#like sometimes he likes an artist and other times he's making fun of people who like that artist. no consistency between writers at all.

[takusan-no-ai]

Rappa-Jitsu!

PAIRING: Sara/Yoimiya/Miko/Shinobu x Male Reader (Romantic) (Separate)

SUMMARY: Their boyfriend thinks he’s a ninja.

Sara is often too busy for your shenanigans. She loves you and definitely wants you to be her husband someday in the future, but she can and will leave you to think about the consequences of your actions in jail. It’s quite rare that she bails you out of jail, and many times Sara is the one who arrested you to begin with.

She appreciates your help with upholding the law, but she wishes you would rein it in on the vigilante justice a bit. Your righteousness and sense of justice is beautiful to her, almost as beautiful as the Raiden Shogun herself, but Sara still sees you as a civilian; no matter how good of a ninja you are Sara’s first priority is to protect you (sometimes from yourself).

Putting criminal activities aside, Sara loves your more artistic abilities. She makes sure you get proper permissions first, but afterwards she enjoys her breaks from work by just watching you make art. Whether it’s graffiti tagging a wall with something glamorous, or attending to one of your shows and listening to you rap your heart out; as much as Sara obeys the Shogun, it’s your kind of freedom that she lives to see grow.

She doesn’t always openly show or admit it, but Sara has a loving heart. So much so that it hurts her to see you sad. She doesn’t know everything about your past, but she does offer a listening ear and her heartfelt support. For all the things that Sara is, she isn’t a selfish lover, and she wants her boyfriend to be happy and know he is loved.

Yoimiya loved you at first sight! You both meshed perfectly together like two puzzle pieces. You both loved being loud, making others happy, protecting people, and having fun. Yoimiya never had so much fun before she met you; don’t get her wrong, she loved hanging with Thoma, Ayaka, ect. But this was her first time having a boyfriend, let alone one she clicked with instantly.

She always looks forward to dates with you. There’s never a dull moment when you’re both together. She even came up with a secret language for the both of you, in regard to her struggling to understand your whole “Way of the ninja” thing at first. And she loves seeing how well you get along with children. Yoimiya hopes that your good vibes and influence can encourage them to spread that joy too.

Speaking of good vibes, Yoimiya started to promote the family business in a new way: the ninja way. Bright colorful graffiti inspired fireworks have her overflowing with ideas for hundreds of combinations. She’s even looking into making silent ones for ninjas who want to work with a little more flare. (You both don’t get how counterintuitive that is to ninjas).

There are times when you’ll stop behaving like usual, when your memories of the past come back to haunt you. How they’ve deeply affected you as a person. Yoimiya can’t stand to see her boyfriend, shoulder, rock, and best friend, suffering. So, to make you feel better, she’ll take you to a remote island, light some fireworks, and nestle into you.

After seeing her boyfriend’s ninjutsu skills, Miko immediately puts you to work. Sure, she may be a shrine maiden, the Guuji Yae, but even the Grand Narukami Shrine has a few…less than ideal issues it needs help cleaning up behind the scenes. Miko always makes an effort to praise you for your hard labor and righteousness towards protecting Inazuma.

She is aware of your circumstances involving a virus, which is why Miko was never bothered by your strange behavior and way of speaking. She is also aware that sometimes you’re able to skirt past those restrictions and speak your mind clearly. It’s during those periods that Miko is especially attentive of your feelings.

But Miko has never been one to mellow in the sadness. So one of her favorite pass times is teasing you about your ninja life. “Technically a ninja and a shrine maiden are forbidden to love one another.” She’ll pull that rule out of nowhere and watch as you try to find any and all loopholes from your light novels. She’ll tell you she’s joking…eventually.

There are few times she’s actually angry. Even Ei would avoid pushing Miko to her limits. But you? Her sweet, delulu boyfriend? No. You volunteered to help her shrine when they were short staffed, and it led to you rapping to clients about their problems. Graffiti spraying fortunes on scrolls, and completely breaking the dress code in unspeakable ways. Some say they can still hear the screams of an enraged kitsune chasing a screaming ninja across the vast ocean.

Shinobu loves you very much. She also loves when you’re not acting like a fool. Between Itto and those goofballs causing trouble, you werent any better. In fact, you being able to sneak around like a ninja made it more of a challenge for Shinobu to track you down. But she does always find you. And you’re lucky to be her boyfriend or else she’d discipline you harder.

She’s always having to bail you out of jail for many things: graffiti, vigilante justice, and loud rapping. She doesn’t mind babysitting you in comparison to her colleagues; it’s mostly thanks to your similarities with each other. Rebellious, independent, and intelligent in your own ways.

You’re both quiet about your pasts and don’t pry each other for details. But sometimes those memories come back to you, and you’ll bypass your restrictions to talk to her about it. Shinobu hangs onto each and every word, promising to protect your memories in her heart. She knows what’s it like to have secrets, as well as those days where you let them spill for just a moment.

Dating can be silly for a lack of better words. Dinner dates aren’t safe from your ramblings on the world of ninjutsu. And it gets even more chaotic when you both run into The Arataki Gang; Itto and you will get into a fisticuffs about whose style is stronger, meanwhile Shinobu is left wondering if she has a type for goofball men or if she just likes testing herself.

- Fin

[sciderman]

Do we know what music 616 Wade listens to? And how different is it from your Wade? I know that 616 Peter listens to classic 50s-70s music and dislikes/hates metal music, but i don't remember seeing anything mentioning Wades music taste.

I have a playlist devoted to songs that 616 wade's referenced canonically! i'm sure i've missed some, but these are just what i can remember off the top of my head

it's a bit of a patchwork - i don't think there's any common thread between any of them, i feel like wade's the kind of guy who just literally knows the lyrics to every song that floats across the airwaves. his brain is constantly on shuffle. i don't think there's one genre that he favours. it depends on his mood, how annoying he wants to be in that moment and – most importantly, the writer who's writing him's music taste, probably.

inexplicably though, if you were to ask me to attach some kind of genre of music to 616 wade specifically, it would probably sound something like my shiklahpool playlist - inexplicably. inexplicably.

[faramirsonofgondor]

Watching Over the Waynes

AU where somehow it comes out that Jason is alive and while Wayne Industries is trying to do damage control for the public, some intern has the great idea of doing a reality TV documentary series thing (sort of like a mix between Keeping Up With Kardashians and The Office) to address the controversy and also show what the Waynes are like as a family. Bruce agrees because he thinks he’s agreeing to a family interview. None of them are prepared for the whole documentary crew to arrive, and Bruce spends three hours on the phone with his publicist trying to get out of it while crew awkwardly eats the food Alfred had hurriedly whipped up for them. Eventually, Bruce gives up and thus starts the family torture bonding session.

The first few episodes are supposed to center around Jason, who is determined to share nothing because this entire ordeal is embarrassing stupid and he hates the press. He does a good job of scowling at the camera and maintaining his stoicism up until someone (cough cough Dick) says he looks like Bruce when he does that (off camera of course, since no one sees Brucie Wayne as the brooding father figure they all know him to be) and then Jason does a complete 180 and pulls out all the dramatics. He even sheds a few tears as he recounts his amnesia and how horribly traumatic it was, and about how it’s hard to remember life before his “accident” but he still does have a few memories he could share with them (and if those memories are conveniently all times where Dick did something incredibly embarrassing - well that’s not Jason’s fault, is it?) From there they move onto the other members of the family and their perspective of Jason’s situation, what it was like when he came back, etc.

Eventually, once they’ve covered everything about Jason, they start asking about their day-to-day lives, what they like to do for fun, and all that other jazz. They were expecting to hear about the business, their jobs, maybe some philanthropy, and to the family’s credit - they do discuss it. But what’s more than is the small but significant moments they catch on camera, like how someone starts to bring up a topic and then seemingly remembers that they’re being recorded, and shuts down the conversation entirely. Or times when they asked about the scuff marks on the ceiling, and all they got in response was a tired sigh from Alfred and the words “that would be Master Dick’s doing, I’m afraid” they crew did not ask for a follow up (they were afraid, too). Or the time they swore they saw Damian chase someone with a sword through the house, but when they checked the footage it was blank.

There are also the odd, quirky personality traits that the family seems to exhibit - but only within the privacy of their own home. Dick walks around doing acrobatics - up until he remembers that other people are there, to which he awkwardly stops, waves, and then retreats. Tim walks around the manor at all hours of the night and day, sometimes talking to thin air (?) and when they ask the other members of the family they just go “it’s the sleep deprivation” without any other context, Damian keeps a whole menagerie of pets in the manor, and somehow keeps getting more as time passes (the crew is too scared to ask where he gets them from - they still remember the sword incident even if there’s no evidence of it), and it seems like sometimes members of the family will just… disappear (???) at night in teams or groups. Like, the crew will search the whole manor (in a non-creepy, authorized way) and they’re just not there (???)

As each episode airs the public starts making up more and more conspiracies about what the Waynes get up to at night (they run an underground criminal empire, they’re all secretly a bunch of dwarves stacked together pretending to be people and need to recharge their energy at night, they’re vigilantes, they’re all secret graffiti artists trying to one-up each other, etc. etc.) Eventually one of the crew members is bold enough to ask them directly, (un)fortunately for the family, the person they asked was Dick, who panicked slightly and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “we’re drag queens!”

The crew is, of course, skeptical of this answer. So Dick tries to save face by launching into a whole tangent about his drag persona. Dick’s persona is named Donna (he was panicking, okay!!). He has Tim photoshop his face onto photos of Donna to make it seem more believable (it does not work). The crew begins to question the other members of the family on their persona, and the only one who seems even slightly prepared to answer is Tim somehow (Tim did not explain to his family why he had women’s clothes and wigs - not that they asked, they were too busy panicking over trying to figure out their own personas). Steph decided that her drag king persona would be named Dick, much to everyone else’s amusement. She insisted it had nothing to do with Dick and that she just thought it was funny (despite opting to borrow Dick’s clothes for her performance). Cass was confused on the whole drag king/queen concept and followed Steph’s lead and dressed as Bruce. Jason, like Dick, panicked and said his persona was named Diana. Bruce, normally calm, was even more panicked because he was planning on claiming the name Diana and now he has to come up with something else (he decides on the name Lois).

Eventually the crew insists on accompanying them to whatever drag bar they go to in order to see them perform. Bruce and Jason start to sweat because while Dick and Tim might be able to do a passable performance, Jason and Bruce were tanks of men (did they even make dresses in their size ?). Somehow, they all manage to calm their nerves on the big night and get ready to perform, it’s all going well - Tim does a beautiful cover of “Lola” by The Kinks, Dicks flexibility and walk is fantastic, Steph does a hysterical Dick impersonation, Cass is… Cass, Jason’s acting skills are off the charts. Then comes Bruce’s turn, and just as he starts to get on stage, guess who shows up? The fucking Joker. Everyone starts panicking, and Bruce, who is not as coordinated as usual in his stripper platform heels, trips and sends one of his shoes flying. Straight into The Joker. The heel goes through his eye, killing him instantly. There’s a long silence, where nobody knows what to do, until someone in the crowd (Jason - though he’ll always deny it) starts chanting “Lois! Lois! Lois!” and eventually everyone joins in.

The episode airs and breaks streaming records. People beg the Waynes to visit Metropolis and do a reenactment of the whole ordeal - this time with Lex Luthor instead of the Joker. Lois Lane is one of those people. Clark pouts and says that he could do it, but Lois insists on her namesake doing it. Bruce just sighs and waits for the publicity to die down. It does not happen. The next JL meeting he attends he finds everyone dressed as his Lois persona, except for Diana who is very pointedly dressed as Jason.

Eventually he tries to do some more damage control by having an actual family interview about everything that happened. When the day comes, Bruce answers questions carefully insisting it was an accident. He dutifully ignores Lois Lane’s raised hand for the duration of the time (he can see the glee on her face and does not want to touch that with a ten foot pole). The other family members answer questions too, claiming that none of them would ever kill anyone on purpose. This statement holds less weight when, at the end of the interview conference, fucking Scarecrow shows up and Dick, in a panic, throws his microphone at him. The microphone goes through his eye, killing him instantly. The crowd goes wild. Everyone loves the Waynes.

[snowballseal]

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?” 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that. 

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look. 

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.” 

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit. 

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question. 

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly. 

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework. 

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers. 

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

[likesomeoneinlovee]

An Artist’s Way

pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Word Count: 10k

Summary: You run into Arthur while on an errand in Saint Denis while he invites you to come with him to Charles Châtenay's gallery. Afterwards you two go out for a drink, then eventually to a local hotel where you find out Arthur had been drawing you in Charles' "style"

Warnings: smut with plot HEAVILY based off the game's mission - Reader briefly mentioned to be a virgin, fingering, unprotected PIV sex, riding, creampie, oral sex M!receiving + F!receiving. Younger woman reader, Arthur's a big boy, canon that he grabs the headboard sorry not sorry.

Author’s Note: Based on the stranger mission: '”an artist's way” in CH4!

More and more you’ve found yourself becoming the gang’s “errand boy”.

This was often Arthur’s job, though he’s been gone more often now, either on bounty’s or doing the dirty work in the gang. So Dutch had you do the clean work. You’d say you didn’t mind it, the running around at least, after all it was one of your only excuses to get away from camp. You’d jump when Pearson needed more herbs or vegetables from the store or if Dutch needed some cigars. You usually went to Saint Denis most of the time, it was the closest to camp after all -and something about running these errands in the city made you feel right at home. The gang was a downgrade from growing up in the city of course, still not completely used to it: the running, it was as if every time you were comfortable everyone had to pack up and move to a whole new location. Hell, sometimes it means crossing states.

You had just walked back to your horse after buying some goods from the general store across the street, packing your purchases into the saddle bags of your hitched horse -some canned fruits and vegetables, cigarettes as per request from most of the people in camp, and some ammo Dutch asked for, just to stock up I suppose. As you worked on buttoning the flap to the saddle bag back down, making sure none of your goods would be seen by people walking by, after all you spent your hard earned -ahem, stolen money- on those things, you could’ve sworn you heard a man ask for directions, a man with a voice as familiar to you as you own.

You looked over your shoulder to see the man, the sandy brown locks under the gambling hat told you enough, why was Arthur in the city? You didn’t think Dutch had any chores for him today, thus why he asked you to go to the store. He held a small card in his hand, looking from the back of it before his gaze fell back on the woman passing, the one he had asked for directions. Once he got them he’d nod to the woman, eyes falling back onto the card as she walked off. 

You’d pat your horse on the neck before walking onto the sidewalk where Arthur stood, he didn’t notice you til’ you tapped on his shoulder. “Arthur?” You were sure he nearly jumped out of his skin. If your voice wasn’t so familiar he probably would’ve elbowed you out of pure defense. 

“Christ–! you tryin’ to kill me sneakin’ up on me like that?” He’d pause for a moment as if his brain finally processed that it was you. “The hell are you doing here anyway?”

“Good news, you’ve been replaced.” 

“Wha–” His brows would furrow together as his mind cranked to figure out your meaning, that was until you pulled your little shopping list out from the satchel swung over your shoulder. “Oh, that.” 

Of course he couldn’t care less about being ‘replaced’ in that department. It was usually a pain in his ass –And honestly you were a pain in his ass too. It’s not that he didn’t like you, you were just ultimately too spunky for his nature. He’d gladly admit you were a good shot, a good killer. So with that you made a good member for this gang. Personality wise he couldn’t help but wince at your jokes while others would laugh, the tiniest amount of attitude that laced each of your sentences. He wasn’t one to like immaturity, especially from someone who was an adult. Though, you were barely even that.

“Have fun runnin’ around with that list of yours then. Seems you’re really movin’ on up.” He’d scorn.

He’d look down at the card in his hands, then back up to look around his surroundings.

“Do you know where this is?”

He handed you the card, the finished paper now warm from him holding it for so long now against your fingertips. It was an address to one of the buildings on this street, you were surprised he hadn’t realized by now.

“That woman didn’t tell you? It’s right on this street.” 

“No.” He’d roll his eyes. “She looked at me like I lost my mind.” 

You’d snicker at that, now walking down the sidewalk with him, both of your boots clicking against the stone sidewalk. Then you stopped in front of the brick building. ”Here, I think.” You’d give that card one last look, noticing the name on the back of the card, you’d squint to see if you were reading it right -Charles Châtenay? you could’ve sworn I heard that name–

My eyes flicked up to the poster on the side of the brick, looks like it was what I thought after all. I usually pick up the paper when I go this route. The route of aimlessly following Dutch’s list as I walk or ride around the city, gives me something to read when I get back to Shady Belle. Seems the artist had an open gallery today. you couldn’t help but snort, the thought of you, Arthur Morgan going to an art gallery full of practically- well, pornography, now that just might be the funniest damn thing you’ve heard all week. -Your immaturity was truly striking.

“Mr. Morgan, Mr. Morgan.” You’d snark. Of course when Arthur wasn’t acting like the man he was -the same man with five-thousand dollars on his head alone, the same who’s murdered more than a person could fathom he was just your regular ol’ suck up.

“Don’t start with that now, I’m already annoyed I gotta go to this thing.” He tapped his boot onto the sidewalk, taking that card back from you and putting it back into his satchel. “Well, ‘less you wanna come in with me. You’d have a field day with this kinda thing. Châtenay seems like a man who’d entertain you anyway.”

You’d think it over for a moment, you could hear chatter already coming from the windows of the building that were open just a crack. Surely you’d find entertainment in it but you were also fond of the arts as well. Though paintings of women laid out nude wouldn’t strike something in you as it would in a man, you’d be surprised if you were the only woman in that building other than the ones on canvas. –At least this would bring some entertainment to your day. 

“I’ll keep you company. Lead the way– or, shall I? Seeing you’re horrible with directions.”

“Up the stairs and to the right.” He’d recite the directions written on the back of that card. “I think I can remember that.”

You two walked into the building together, up the stairs and to the right and you were there. The first hall was filled with sculptures, beautiful paintings hung against the blue walls, the next room you two stepped in was Châtenay’s, you and Arthur’s gaze met with women’s breasts and men’s cocks painted with oils on the canvases. It surely was– something. Arthur tugged his collar to clear his throat. 

The room had more of a variety of guests than you thought, actually more women than men which came as a shock up until you realized these women were actually the models conversing with the other models. They seemed quite proud of their work, respectably so. Arthur had spotted the french artist across the room chatting one of the models up, he wouldn’t want you to get mixed up in his own charades so Arthur would squeeze your shoulder for your attention just for a moment.

“Why don’t you stay here, pretend to be a model or sumthin’, princess. Wouldn’t want you to get your ear talked off by Charles.” 

Your eyes fell on the french artist as he stood distracted across the room, you could barely hear nor understand the words that he was blabbering out through his thick french accent. Something told you maybe it was a good idea for Morgan to handle what he’s gotten himself into with this man before you were stuck talking to someone you could hardly understand, stuck replying with ‘mhm’s’ and ‘uh-huh’s’ as if you knew what he was saying. Although you’d feel a bit awkward standing there and staring at the intimate paintings of both men and women while standing in the same room as the people being portrayed in oil, it’d probably be best for you at least, you were only here to keep Arthur company and today you felt you’d be less of a nuisance to him by obeying his wishes.

“Sure thing.”

You watched as Arthur walked away from you all the way to the other side of the gallery leaving you alone with the model’s dressed in their elegant, expensive attire that you could only dream of owning. And unfortunately due to the paintings you now know what’s under the rich clothing.

– That evening only got more interesting from there on. It was quite ridiculous, you and Arthur couldn’t have been there for more than fifteen minutes before all hell started to break loose. The husbands and wives of the models had practically raided the building before shouting at their spouses, you couldn’t really tell what was happening between Châtenay being attacked by the men and the women, being hit with a variety of chairs, purses, and of course, fists. Before things could get out of hand with you in the mix Arthur came over to you. He had a wide smile on his face, could’ve sworn this was the first time you’ve seen him laugh so hard he had developed tears in the corners of his eyes. 

“You should probably get outta here before you get in the mix of fists, sweetheart–” His voice quickly cut off by a crash as he escorted you out of the gallery. “Wait outside.” He’d pat your shoulder, leaving you standing at the top of the stairs as he left to go help the artist.

“Sure– thing.”  It was like that turned into your only response.

You didn’t really have time to leave with a jest, or something more than two words, not to be a pussy but you really didn’t feel like being hit by a stray flying chair, so you just walked down the stairs and back outside. You’d laugh to yourself as you walked down the street and away from that brick building, of course the highlight of the day only lasted a short moment, it was quick and rushed, but really you didn’t need to stare at those paintings any longer than you already have. -You felt as if Charles or the gallery wouldn’t be mentioned or thought of again, at least in this moment. But you’d be wrong about that. -The sun was setting now, it looked beautiful against all the buildings that made up the city, you found a bench to sit on, figured you’d read that paper you got earlier while you waited for Arthur. Your eyes would skim the words but nothing would really register.

A little while had gone by and after the sun finally set, the stars scattered against the dark sky as you stayed patiently waiting on that wooden –and quite uncomfortable bench, constantly finding yourself adjusting and shifting to get more comfortable, ‘course it didn’t work . You heard footsteps, looking up from the newspaper you felt you read about a hundred times by now out of pure boredom you were relieved to see that it was Arthur.

“Jesus, I thought you’d never come back. Why’d you take so long?” 

“Had to escort the dumbass home so he didn’t get killed. Seems he had a whore waiting for him an’ everythin’.” 

You’d let out a short breath at that, not quite a laugh, you felt your body getting a bit tired but you quickly shook off the feeling, rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm before standing from the bench, leaving the paper behind you, you had a bit of a ride back to Shady Belle, wouldn’t want to fall asleep on the back of your horse. You also had to get all that food and goods you bought back to the camp –though you weren’t quite sure how urgent we needed the provision.

You and Arthur started walking down the sidewalk, side-by-side, the night air now nipping at your skin through the thin fabric of your blouse. It had been too long without a good tease from you to purposely annoy him, clearing your throat to prepare to speak.

“How do you know that artist anyway?”

He’d look down at you as he walked, that was a fair question to ask.

“I met him in the saloon –not the big one down the street here, the smaller one. Don’t know if you’ve ever been there.”

You’d shrug. “I’ve passed by it.”

Arthur would nod. “Met him in there and somehow he convinced me to go to that little show. Gave one of his–”  He'd stop his words looking down at you before shaking his head. 

“Nevermind” 

Charles gave him one of his many artworks, a nude woman, an illustration that he embarrassingly kept safely in his satchel since. And now he’d especially not want to tell you, you were already amused that he even went to the damn show which he himself had more fun that he should’ve. Though, to mention, he didn’t start having fun til’ Châtenay was getting his ass handed to him.

You on the other hand were now dying to know what he gave Arthur, –can’t just start a sentence without finishing it. You had a feeling begging him for the answer wouldn’t work of course, you’d try anyway.

“Oh come onnnnnn.” You sneered. “M’sick of you doing that, you’ve been on this earth long enough to realize you can’t just start a sentence without finishing.”

‘N’ I’ve known you long enough to know I shouldn’t be givin’ you any more reasons to laugh at me.”

“I don’t– laugh,” You’d scoff. “Five months isn’t long either, you barely know me.”

Morgan let out a sigh, tying to think of a good excuse to kinda brush away what he said. Something to finish the sentence he started. “He gave me some money, paid me to go to that exhibit. Don’t want you goin’ around thinkin’ I’m a pervert who went for a good time.”

You’d look up to him after he said that. If that’s all it was –money. “I wasn’t thinkin’ that.”

Well, maybe it crossed your mind once or twice. But then again why would he stop himself from saying that? Right now you couldn’t bother to make sense of it, you just shrugged it off. –Now the walk was silent for the most part, there wasn’t really anything to say. Once you got to your horse you’d pat the saddle bag, feeling that your goods hadn’t been stolen, letting out a sigh before turning back to Arthur.

“We should both get back to camp before someone gets worried.”

Really, you didn’t know who would get worried, you’ve stayed the night at a hotel in the city more times than you could count just so you could sleep in a comfortable bed ‘stead of your worn, hard cot. 

“No one will be worried. Come on I’m the one who made you stay out here longer than you intended, I’ll buy you a whiskey or sumthin’.” 

You’d look at him, almost surprised to hear the offer. It was rare for him to be sweet, if that was the right word for offering you a drink. It sounded good, the thought alone of the cool alcohol burning down your throat already waking you up a bit more than you were.

“That’d– that’d be nice.”

Not too long after those words were shared you and Morgan had made it into the saloon, the faint playing of the piano heard from across the street now loud along with the chatter between people sitting and eating at their tables to the men around their table playing poker. Since it was a bit later in the day –the night now fully taking its course, it was like a signal for men and women alike to flood the saloon. You and Arthur had found a booth to be separated from the crowd at least a little bit. You both set your satchels down on the corners of your seats, Arthur’s finger tapping against the finished wood that made up the table before he took out a cigarette from his satchel along with his lighter, flicking the flame before holding it against his cigarette to light it, Adjusting to stuff the lighter conveniently into the pocket of his pants, inhaling the tobacco into his lungs before blowing the smoke away from the booth.

“I’ll get up, get us some drinks.” 

“Mhm.” You’d hum as you watched him shift out of the booth, walking away to go to the bar. You’d notice something in his empty space, a piece of paper had fallen out of his satchel. You didn’t think anything of it of course, didn’t bother reaching over to put it back in for him. Curiosity killed the cat.

A few minutes later Arthur came back with a couple bottles, sitting back down into the leather seats of the booth with a sigh, the bottles clinking against the table as he placed them down.

“Thanks.” You'd nod, popping the cork out the bottle with your thumb.

“Just two beers, don’t wanna get too drunk, not here.”

Boy, was he wrong. 

After those two beers Arthur had gotten up again to get another. Once beers were out he went to whiskey. One whiskey was out he grabbed any alcohol they had at that bar. Two turned into four. Four turned into six, –eight… Ten.. Fuck.

To be fair you didn’t have as many drinks as Arthur deciding to play responsible tonight, but it was still enough.

The once clean table turned into a mess of empty bottles, glasses, Arthur’s cigarettes and the ashes from made a mess of the ashtray pushed to the side of the table. Random splashes of golden liquid dripped on the table. Now piss drunk in a booth with an also piss drunk Morgan was… Actually a real fuckin’ good time. A peep could escape your lips and Arthur could double over the table with laughter, same with you. 

One idiotic conversation after another you finally thought of it again even through your drunken haze –whatever that artist ‘gave him’ to persuade him into going to the gallery. Why was it clawing at you so much? You usually weren’t so interested in him or his life. Maybe it was because you knew he was blatantly lying to you. 

 “Now– you tell me the hell that– that artist gave you– remember?” 

Finishing the sentence with a hiccup you’d look back at Arthur. Now since you both were a couple more shots away from passing out onto the sea of glasses that made up the table, both of your tongues were loose, of course.

He let out a laugh, shaking his head as he reached into his satchel. “Goddamn, guess you know how to loosen a man up–”  He pulled out that piece of paper that was earlier peeking out from the top of the leather. “--Gave me this pretty little drawin’. Ain’t she a fuckin’ ‘beaut, eh?”

The picture he slid over to you from the other side of the table was a photograph of a nude woman of course, her bare breasts on a perfect display as she perched on a chair. You couldn’t help but laugh, was he really carrying this around all this time? Sure– that creep of a man could truly draw, but Arthur wasn’t one to keep aimless gifts close to him, definitely not directly in his satchel for safe keepings –though you couldn’t imagine what he was actually doing with this picture. If it’s what you thought that would be pretty damn pathetic. 

“He surely can draw– that man–” You’d slur, sliding the illustration back to Arthur, wasn’t something you really needed to study.  “--Now, you don’t–” You’d clear your throat “Surely you don’t–”

“Now princess, I’d need a lot more than a sketch for that.”

You’d laugh, his words melted right off his tongue from the alcohol. Right now you couldn’t even force yourself to think anything of the words he was saying, and anyway, the thought of a man –even Arthur jerking off to a measly sketch of a woman sounded more unappealing than something that’d get you going. Why would it anyway? Arthur was– well, he was Arthur. You’d often be cautious to even call him a friend of yours. Though right about now in the haze of booze that clouded your brain and same his, he’d most definitely call you his friend as an introduction at least.

The music, the chatter, the yelling and hollering in the saloon was echoing through your head. You were sure the pianist practically banging on the keys of the piano would split your ears open if you stayed in that place any longer –you’d ignore it for now, hell maybe even another drink would solve that problem.

“...I didn’t need to know that information.” You’d finally get past your lips with another giggle, slouching over the table with that damned empty bottle still in your grasp, being swung around to enunciate all your sentences. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, he couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips –blame the brandy for that. He leaned back into the leather seats of the booth, his arm lazily draped onto the table, tapping his finger against the glass bottle he held –completely empty. 

“You asked.” 

He shrugged, taking a long sip from the glass bottle, savoring the feeling of the cool liquid slipping down his throat, feeling unnecessarily in love with the burning. You’d pout, tap your finger against the bottle you held, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, a smirk quickly replaced how your bottom lip would stick out from your top.

 “Didn't expect an answer– not like that–” You’d hic, “–not from you.”

“What are you– drawin’ these types of things too? Psh– maybe you needed the reference.” You’d mock him, that brought a scoff from his lips as if you just said something so fucking absurd, he shook his head, slamming his bottle back down onto the wooden table as you swirled your empty bottle around the table. His gaze was seemingly stuck on the table as if he was examining the grooves and knots in the wood, running his finger along the imperfections.

“No, I–” His voice was conveniently cut off by a bang coming from one of the tables, more loud hollering, yelling –looks like someone won a poker game at least, the table surrounded by wasted men, all a bit too excited to be here tonight. Arthur was clearly getting antsy and the alcohol was even clouding your vision. 

Imagine a radio overlapping ten different songs over each other and now replace the songs with the not-so pleasant sounds of men who’d been guzzling booze all night screaming over losing their money by their own stupid and idiotic decisions, women cackling over the city’s pointless gossip– that damn piano! You were ready to smash your beer bottle over the pianist’s head–

 You tried to take a swig from your empty bottle before tossing it onto the table with the others. With a groan Arthur buried his face into his worked palms, he seemed just as sick of it as well.

“Goddamn–” He’d groan. His hands pressing harder into his face as if he was desperately trying to wipe away the noise. “Fuck. Fuck…” 

You two just couldn’t stand it anymore. 

So, why stand it?

You and Morgan made it out of the bar successfully without beating someone with one of the bottles from the mess you had carelessly left on the table –you two getting out of there in time for the bartender to say anything. Swinging your satchels over your shoulders you two left the godforsaken noisebox that saloon had turned on, now all the ‘’hootin’ ‘N’ hollerin’,, was a faint sound heard from the distance as you walked down the sidewalk.

You rubbed your temple with the pad of your thumb, feeling a little better now without all the over fucking excitement.

“Gah– fuck.” Arthur would lean up against the brick building beside him, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand before looking forward, noticing the lit sign for the hotel in the distance. It was quite obvious you two wouldn’t want to be riding your horse back to camp right now. Morgan checked his pocket watch, the arms of the clock pointing to 11:35. ‘Kay, not too late.

“You don’t wanna ride all the way to camp right now, do ya?” His voice deeper than normal from all the drinking, the slurring.

“Not particularly,” 

With a pause your head turned to the sign of the hotel, it’d be better just to go right straight there, once again you might’ve gone it anyway tonight just for that comfortable bed that comes with the deal  –Hell, two dollars could get you a bed with two rooms if you’re lucky enough. 

A hum escaped your throat as you nodded. “I–”

“Dont– don’t worry I’ll be payin’” 

As if you didn’t have two dollars to spare you perked up a bit at that. Guess it was all you needed to hear.

No more excuses, you’d be spending the night with this drunken fool. 

You two both were wobbly on your feet, of course with the amount of shots and bottles practically swallowed whole you could go figure that. You walked into the front doors as you tried to adjust your clothes, Arthur pushed his hat up so it wouldn’t be slouched over his eyes.

“Ah, may I help you two?” The clerk at the front desk had one of those fake overexaggerated smiles on his face.

“Just lookin’ for a room to stay the night. Nothin’ special.” He’d clear his throat, trying to shake off the drunken slur that was making his voice. “Two beds.”

Of course he had to clarify that– er, it only made sense anyway. It’d be really awkward if you and Arthur had to share a–

“Sorry, we don’t have rooms with two beds here.”

Shit.

Well it was logical at least, why would they? Let’s think. Who actually gets hotel rooms – commonly it’s men who’ve bought themselves a whore for the night or someone looking for a place to rest on their ventures. Not often you have two drunken outlaws stumbling in asking for two beds.

“Fine. M’That’s just– fine.” 

Arthur would pass some money over the desk to the man behind, in exchange he received a key to the room.  

“Upstairs, first room to your left, enjoy the stay folks.”

Jesus, you could’ve sworn that smile was melting off that clerk’s face as he spoke. You’d rub your temple again as you and Arthur just said a quick ‘’thank you,, in unison. 

Both of your boots would stomp heavily up the stairs. – upstairs first room to your left. Once there you turned to it, Arthur put the key in, turned it, opened the door. The rusted hinges creaked as it opened, though despite that sound the door opened to reveal a very nice looking hotel room. The bed was made, a thick quilt and were those– satin pillows? 

Surely this was paradise.

Arthur’s eyes looked around the room, other than the bed, a dresser in front, couple nightstands and an oil lamp to give the room a nice warm light –there was an arm chair pushed to the side of the room. 

“I’ll take the chair.”

He groaned as he shimmied his coat off of his shoulders, lazily throwing it onto the arm of the chair. Now with this action he also removed his satchel, it hit the nightstand by the bed, narrowly missing the lamp and hitting the edge before his palms met with his forehead again.

“M’gonna try to find a bathroom in this place–”

You’d let a scowl cross your mouth as he said that, watching as he stumbled out the door, closing it behind him.

Well, at least you could get some peace and quiet– is what you would say if there wasn’t the sound of the bed creaking clearly from rocking back and forth and a quick pace wasn’t coming from behind the drywall of your own room. Whatever, somehow that could be easily ignored by you.

You did notice something more interesting than that though –something you couldn’t seemed to ignore: Arthur’s satchel had fallen from where he had thrown it, landing onto the floor as all his things fell all of it –a mess of papers and money, a couple packs of cigarettes too. You’d click your tongue as you went to pick it up, noticing his journal had fallen out too.

You crouched down to start putting his things back into the leather bag, the money, the cigarettes, though your hands lingered on the worn leather back of his journal for a bit longer than they should’ve.

No, you shouldn’t.

But what if you just– one peak wouldn’t hurt. 

Arthur would probably take a while anyway figuring he went to presumably empty his body of all the alcohol he had drank in just one evening.

 Though as you looked more at the mess on the ground below your knees you’d notice the papers more, one was right side up but underneath the journal, so you’d lift it. Doing so revealed the full drawing done in pencil–

A sketch of a nude woman much like one Châtenay had drawn. But this one– it seemed different. There was more detail, more fluidity to the art, it looked all the more real. Down to the freckles drawn down the valley of her breasts.

You flipped over another stray paper, this one of the same. A naked woman, her breasts on full display, detailed. You’d flip another

And then another.

You’d open his journal.

Flipping through the pages where he’s drawn various things, trees, animals, beautiful scenery of places he’s traveled with the locations written in the corners, some pages filled with chicken scratch of his thoughts– you’d pay no mind to those. You started to notice the pages that were ripped out from his journal yet kept in, more drawings. 

Were you going crazy or did these drawings turn from your average woman with long wavy locks and bright eyes to– you…?

You felt a coil in your gut as you looked down at the images, not the bad kind of coil that you’d get while you’re being chased by an armed man or the kinda coil you’d get as a kid when your parents caught you stealing from the cookie jar– no, you could tell it wasn’t that kind from the additional heat that pooled in your tummy.

Your breathing would pick up, your eyebrows knitted closely as you looked down at these drawings. Your eyes. Your lips. Your nose. Quite obviously your hair too–

Fuck. You were beginning to hear footsteps stumbling down the hallway. You’d quickly shove the contents of his satchel back in, you surely didn't have time to worry about where everything went– if it’d just fall out again, if he’d notice it had been ran and rummaged through. Once it was all in there you quickly latched the button and placed it back on the nightstand, quickly standing from your knees as soon as he opened the door.

“Hi–” 

How could a two letter greeting sound guilty as ever?

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as a grunt escaped the back of his throat, though now looking at him maybe you didn’t wish you were as drunk as him right now –even if it probably meant you’d be forgetting about those drawings by now, maybe you’d just brush it off. 

He closed the door behind him as he coughed into his fist, gently guiding you out of the way so he could get to the satchel on the nightstand– 

Fuck.

As he undid the button he reached in to grab a packet of cigarettes when he noticed one of them was missing. 

“You take one of these?”

He’d say, popping the last one of the packet actually still in his satchel between his lips before lighting it.

“What– no! No– I don’t smoke…”

He’d look at you with his half-lidded gaze he’s had since the saloon, furrowing his brows at your reaction, frazzled for no good reason.

“Christ, girl. You don’t take your liquor well.”

That was funny, you’d think it was the other way around.

“I think it’s quite the opposite, Arthur.”

You’d see his gaze shift to the floor as he looked around, where could’ve that pack gone? He was sure he had a second one– no, he knew he had a second one since he just went out and bought it earlier in the day and– Ah, there it was. Halfway to being pushed completely under the bed Arthur bent to pick it back up. He was too delirious to think of why it even got there.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at him, his body– those fingers that you now knew were once holding a pencil to paper, sketching you, what he imagined to be underneath those pretty blouses you wore, those skirts that stopped at your ankles. 

This was killing you. Even though you hadn’t said a word to him you still felt like you were lying to him, deceiving him. You never had a problem with that before anyway, why start now? 

You knew what else you always were –that damn loud, snarky girl he always hated to be around. The one who’d let any words leave her mouth without a thought and now you’re here, standing in silence, you’d think your mouth was sewn shut. 

Under the shadow of the bed Arthur saw something else– a paper.

Shit. 

He tapped his boot on top of it and dragged it out, the sound of the paper sliding across the wooden floor heightened your senses again. Course it was one of those drawings, those drawings. It was his turn for his heart to rapidly thump against his ribs.

“Fuck.” You’d hear him groan as he bent down to pick up that paper now, looking it over, it wasn’t one of the drawings of you, one of the quick sketches of a woman he hadn’t named.

“You didn’t–”

…

“I did.”

The room fell silently quickly after that, how could it not? There was no point of you mustering up a flustered, messy defense in a long drawn out blabber that’d escape your lips so you’d just admit it. It wasn’t nothing you did wrong anyway. Arthur sighed, rubbing his hand over his face once more as he shoved the drawing back into his satchel, easily frustrated now he’d just crump it up into a ball before getting it into the leather bag. He braced his hands on the edge of the night stand, taking in a deep long breath before letting out an even deeper and even longer breath out. 

You should say something– say something so he could look you in the eye.

“I– didn’t ask for those.”

“I know.” He’d breathe.

“I didn’t even realize you considered us friendly– I had no clue you–”

“I know.”

Your fingers would twitch at your sides, swallowing hard.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me…”

At first in his head those words sounded– like they could be angry, it might’ve been his brain telling him that. Then he heard that tone– that almost breathless tone in your voice. He finally got the courage back to look you in the eyes, his fingers peeling away from the edge of that nightstand, if his nails dug into the finished wood any harder he would’ve left indents.

“You should be angry with me.”

“I’m not. I mean– I couldn’t be farther from that.” 

You’d stop a moment, his breathing was heavy and so was yours. Arthur would push and twist his cigarette into the ashtray to put it out, blowing out the rest of the smoke through his nostrils with a suppressed, small cough.

“What are you then, princess?’

The name he had been calling you all day now sounding completely different in this heavy tone. You knew exactly what you were. Voicing that would be a little difficult. You felt if you did end up blurting something out it’d either kill the moment or kill him. His voice still had a slur to it from the alcohol, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Your own throat ran dry as you flicked your eyes to his plump, pink lips.

A man like Morgan knew what that look you gave meant, he’s had his own fair share of whores over the years, working girls were his usual go-to after Mary at least, before too. I mean, Christ, the man had himself a son once he knew what your eyes alone were saying.

“Why don’t you find out…” You’d finally blurt.

His boots clicked against the ground as he walked close to you, his hand reaching out to cup the nape of your neck.

The way his face slowly, so carefully slowly moved towards yours you’d think he was going in for a slow, gentle capture of your lips– not quite.

His face twitched– leaving you with a brief flash of micro emotion before he would collide his lips against your own, his fingers curling and tangling in your locks of hair.

His tongue delved into your mouth before your own body got the chance to respond, your arms quickly wrapping around his neck as you moaned into the kiss. His hands slid down your shoulders, arms, the curve of your waist, hips, all the way down to your thighs, hands moving to the back of them to hoist you up against his body, his palms laid flat against your ass.

Your legs locked around his hips, finding difficulty to find a place to settle your hands as his tongue fucked your mouth, his shoulders? His arms? You’d eventually give them a home on his vest-covered chest, your fingernails digging into the black leather. 

He could feel the denim of his pants stretch around his growing cock, he hoisted you higher, your clothed breasts practically at his lips now, those lips quickly parted from your lips to move down your neck, sucking at your pulse point.

You would never consider yourself noisy, not ever. Your life so far had never called for sex, sure men had given you their eyes, licking their lips seemingly to grab your attention but they never did, failing miserably instead of getting what they wanted from you. Playing with yourself was a lost cause but you’d count it as experience, the frustrated pumps of your own fingers into your pussy weren’t enough to draw pleasure, relieve the ache in your stomach, it only made it tighter.

Arthur had sucked a hickey into your skin, he made sure it’d be hidden by your hair since it was so far up on your neck. His roughened hands still would squeeze your ass cheeks, fingers working you like dough before giving it a quick, hard spank. Almost just muscle memory for him.

With a grunt he’d lower you two down onto the bed, his mouth quickly returned to yours with the same –nearly violent pace. The bulk of his muscles pressing into your more so petite form. His hand roamed your body – your legs, thighs, stomach, moving up to cup then squeeze your soft breast, the pad of his thumb teasing your budded nipple through the thin fabric of your blouse rewarding him with a moan from your sweet lips.

Just the feeling of his clothing rubbing against his body was driving him mad, ‘’uncomfortable,, couldn’t even express it anymore, it was hell. His hands reluctantly pulled away from you, at a quick pace his thick fingers undid the buttons of his heavy vest, when that was gone, quickly discarded to the floor he finally felt like he was gaining - at least some - of his breath back, now it was a matter of his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons of that next. Fuck, he needed you.

He needed you right fucking now. 

He shimmied the shirt off of his shoulders, down the muscles of his arms before it dropped to the floor behind him –he was on top of you again. His hips bucked into yours quick and hard. Grinding. Rubbing.

Your hair would splay behind you on the bed, always thought in moments like this your eyes should be closed, that seemed like common knowledge, your half-lidded eyes still refused to fully close, especially now that his shirt was off. You’ve of course seen Morgan with his shirt off before, tending to his wounds, his cuts, bathing in the lake out by camp– close up like this it was different. His biceps pulsing as his hands braced on either side of your head, fingers curling into the blanket. Puffs of hard breaths would escape him, it was almost like a pattern before he’d grab you by the sides of your thighs tight.

Arthur would let himself fall back against the pillows that piled against the bed frame, dragging your body right onto his lap –now it was obvious how hard he was, that mass between his legs pulsating against your ass, your back pressed against his chest as he snaked an arm around you, quickly so fucking fast. He’d begin unbuttoning your blouse, tugging it right off of you, you were surprised he didn’t tear the fabric off of your pretty little body. His hands moved up, groping and squeezing your tits from behind, one of his hands moved down your body, down your sternum, stomach, and past the hem of your skirt, dripping your hand under it before his thick fingers found your panties.

Fucking hell you were soaked.

“Jesus christ… Fuckin’ hell you’re soaked…”

He’d grunt, he hadn’t spoken in a while, so focused on his movements, breathing. This was something he couldn’t ignore. He placed a kiss on your nape before his fingers would slide past your wet underwear, his hips involuntarily thrusting into your ass, squeezing your tit harder as he pushed two of his big fingers into your hot cunt. Your head lolled back against his shoulder as you practically squealed. 

“Arthur–!”

Your mouth was wide open, sharp, sinful moans escaping from you as his fingers curled inside you, fuck. If you couldn’t even handle his fingers how would you handle his cock. You can only imagine how fucking big it was. Big hands, muscles, body, it’d be one of god’s greatest jokes if it didn’t live up to the rest of his body.

Your cunt would clench around his fingers- it had been this whole time. His fingernail scraped across the tip of your erect nipple again, you’d squirm in his arms, your own fingers digging into his massive biceps, the tip of your finger tracing the vein that ran down it, his muscle would twitch.

With a wet squelch from your tight pussy Arthur would withdraw his fingers from your walls, you weren’t finished. Wasn’t his concern. The coil in your gut felt like it’d burst any second, your cunt left throbbing, empty without the fill of his fingers.

He was gonna give you something better than his fingers.

“Lift up…”

His mouth was pressed against your ear feeling the hot breath fan onto your lobe. His hands gripped onto your hips, pulling that pretty dark skirt right down the length of your legs, you could hear the clinking of his belt behind you, making your ears perk. 

“Up.”

Another command escaped his lips, you’d nod as you shakily got off of him, kneeled onto the bed. Arthur blew out the oil lamp on the bedside table, the room now lit by the paleness of the moonlight that shone through the windows, the curtains spread. It wasn’t like people would see anyway, though it’d be a good show.

Once he had unbuckled his belt he threw it to the ground– Arthur didn’t wear briefs, why would he? They caused him more discomfort, an extra layer of tightness to his balls and shaft. One tug of his work-pants and his hard, thick cock sprung from the confines of the black denim, the light from the window reflecting on the bead of precum that beaded off his cockhole. His size was impressive, sending a signal through your body– you couldn’t control yourself anymore. You ripped your underwear right off of that poor bundle of nerves that it protected, tossing the wet lace down onto the floor.

You practically crawled to him, his hands reached for your hips before pulling you on top of him, walking on your knees over him, his cock shooting straight up as it twitched with your pussy like it was fucking magnetic. You’d sink your body down onto the thickness, moaning his name as you sheathed him into your pulsating cunt. His hand wrapped around the headboard, gripping it for dear life as he pumped his way into you–

“Fuck!” Your hands braced on either one of his hips before one trailed up to his chest.

“That’s it– that’s fuckin’ it, princess.”

His thrusts quickened, his back arching up with each fast pound of his pelvis. His cock slipping deeper into your gummy walls with each snap. His dick curved inside of you, the head of his shaft kissing your g-spot, he felt so painfully good, your teeth bit into your thumb to try to muffle the sounds escaping your mouth, your body shaking. 

You didn’t want to let yourself be this –a mess on top of him. Riding him. You had to gain some control even with his cock slapping inside of your sore hole. His eyes opening up, releasing the headboard to trail back to your breasts, those scarred, calloused hands - once again - giving the tender mounds another generous groping. Your hands would run to rest on top of his own big ones, the size of him consuming every sense –not only his dick, his hands, his body. Looking down and seeing the muscles in his stomach tense and twitch, his head arching backwards into the comfortable pillows behind. He was close. Surely you were too.

His hand ran to the small of your back as he helped you a bit, pushing himself up against the headboard so his body was lazily sat up now, your hips rolling back and forth into his as you ground down, making a loud, throaty moan release from the back of his throat, his balls slapped against your ass, now you’ve got it. Bouncing up and down on his cock leaving him with no mercy.

“You’re gonna make me cum, princess– you’re’mmmm–”

His eyes locked onto the sight of your perfect tits bouncing up and down as you took his cock, he felt his sack tighten up, that unbearable sensation deep in his gut, he was gonna cum. He needed to cum. Though you were still chasing that high as his fingers dug into your waist, your skin there raw and pink from the tight hold. The base of his cock rubbed against your clit, the coarse hair crowning it scratched against the sensitive, swollen bud, the sensation making you lose every bit of yourself to him.

With one more curved thrust from him you’d climax, your body collapsing over top of his as you did. Making sure to cry right into his ear. Your trembling fingers clawing and digging into the broad, tense muscles of his shoulders. His eyes rolling back into his skull as his orgasm followed yours, strings of hot semen coating your inner walls as he fucked it into you, making your pussy milk out every hot, thick rope of cum, his head falling foreward between the valley of those pretty tits he’d been admiring all night. 

“Oh fuck, princess.” 

His voice wavered as he tried desperately to catch his breath back though it seemed it’d all been stolen from his lungs.

“Oh, Arthur…”

That desperate whine squeaked from your lips. A kiss was planted on your clavicle before he’d guide you so you were underneath him again, careful not to jar you too much after all he was well aware of how hard he had just fucked that tight little hole of yours. He’d pull his shaft out from those walls that were spasmed around him just a second ago, watching all that access, hot seed spill out from your pink petals. 

Did you think that was it? Surely you had to return the favor.

Arthur had a cigarette lit and hanging from his lips that were wet with his own salvia, your head between his legs bobbing up and down on that thick cock that was still coated with your own juice. His fingers tangled up in your hair, fucking your mouth with the same force as he had with your cunt just moments ago. The cigarette in his hot mouth was the only thing suppressing his noises, taking it between his fingertips just to let out a loud long moan. 

You’d gag when his swollen tip hit the back of your throat unexpectedly, your hands digging into his thighs as your eyes held close so fucking tight tears welled up in them, making your vision blurry as you looked up at Arthur, eyes closed, puffing on that cigarette. Your left hand went to wrap around your base as you pulled him nearly completely out of your mouth, your lips still wrapped around his cockhead, your tongue tracing his hole.

“Goooooood fuckin’ girl… Keep going–” 

Your hand jerked him off now as your abused throat got to catch a break, though it’d still need to be put up to work, hm? You hopped onto his thigh as your hand now caressed his chest, trickling your fingers down his thick chest hair that covered the tan skin. Your thumb teased his red hot tip, before you kept rolling your hand up and down –he was close, you now leaned to tell when that vein that ran down his low stomach all the way down to the middle of his shaft began to twitch and pump you’d get to milk the man dry a second time. A mix of your drool and his precum dripping down his length.

Your fist tightened around him as your mouth locked with his as he held the smoking cigarette between his forefinger and his middle, his hand wrapping in your hand to the nape of your neck, hips bucking into your palm, he cums again. Hard. Right into your fist. 

Arthur was panting like a damn dog, you had jerked him off just right to get his legs to tremble as they spread for you. He broke away from your mouth to catch his breath that you stole from him. You trailed a kiss to his neck, he had been marking you all night you thought it was only fair to give him some too, sucking a purple mark into his skin before trailing your mouth down.

“Good girl— good fuckin’ girl…” He was a mess.

His praise was always a godsend to you, ringing through your ears, you craved it. Your tongue ran down his collar, his shoulder, then down his arm, those pulsing muscles that were smooth to the touch, glistening with his sweat. The way his chest began heaving heavily as you traced the thick vein that ran down his bicep with your tongue.

Receiving was something that his body needed. But giving was something that he craved. Just hearing the sweet moans and cries from a woman’s mouth as it hung agape was something that could get him off more times at just the thought of than a blowy. 

–Though now your legs were on his shoulders as he pumped his tongue into your walls, running it up and down your slit as he - messily - ate your pussy, he was starving for it after all. Your back was arching upwards but his hands were too occupied holding your ankles to the dips of his shoulders to touch you anywhere else, his nose pressed against your clit –even his nose could find work. Your pants were hot and labored, all you can let out those sharp, gorgeous whines of his name, the one you’ve grown so accustomed to.

“Arthur!”

Again.

“Fuck- fuck, Arthur–!”

His name learned to roll off your tongue like honey, it seemed to be becoming the thing that came natural to you in life. He loved it, his mouth sucking feverishly at your clit, he knew all  those sweet-spots, you weren’t a religious girl, - if you were you wouldn’t be in your right mind to let Arthur do these truly sinful things to you - but you’d thank god to every whore, every woman that taught him these tricks. 

Your thighs would squeeze his head til’ it was about ready to pop, though that’s just what Arthur wanted, mumbling praise into your sweet, slick folds as his fingers moved into the mix too, forcing your body to that high you’d been desperately chasing, the pad of his finger pressing against one of your soft spots.

You’d cum hard on his face, your glistening climax now coated his beard as he removed his face from your thighs, looking at your heaving, shaking body now beneath him. Resting your legs down he’d slowly lower himself back onto you, his lips kissing from your navel to your lips, his body - and yours, of course - finally feeling a bit heavy.

“You’re too good f’me, girl…”

At the moment there was not enough oxygen in your lungs to give him a vocal response, you’d just nod, your cheeks flushed a pale pink. His hand moved to brush some hair away from your face, strands stuck to your cheeks, forehead, it was a sight for him. He’d pick you up, pulling you to sit in his lap as he held you to a tight embrace, nipping and kissing at your neck. He was so needy for you. 

The night had settled, only a bit. You found yourself tucked in Arthur’s arm with the warm quilt thrown on the hotel bed covering your bodies, both sore and spent.

Arthur had been flipping through the pages of his journal now, it only felt right to shamelessly show you the works he’s done of you now, of course those were only a couple.

“I stopped doin’ them for a while now… Most of them was from when I was drunk. Foolish.”

He’d explain, though it didn’t seem like it needed an explanation anymore, you didn’t care after all though you appreciated it. Your hand would reach out to touch the page, feeling the rough paper beneath your fingertips.

“I don’t mind…”

“Yeah well, maybe now you can model f’me, hm?… I’m always better working with a reference.”

You couldn’t help but giggle.

“It's a date then.”

You two had both fallen asleep shortly after, his sweet praises in your ear til your body was limp against his own, his fingers combing through your hair —a moment of intimacy and peace like this after he had fucked you so thorough. Not a thought of worry in your pretty little head.

 'Cept maybe how the ride back was gonna feel on that soreness between your legs– 

[lunee43]

What are some things that you dislike or hate abt EPIC?

Oomph— okay people, these are my personal takes! And just know things are gonna get a bit heated. (Also!, I’d like to hear what you all dislike or hate about epic/the fandom aswell!)

Warning ⚠️: Hot takes.

Okay I’ll talk about Epic the musical as the musical itself, and then the fandom because they also help make up Epic.

Epic the musical

I honestly love this musical so much do it’s gonna be hard to find personal dislikes.

-Plotwise, I kinda dislike a the plot a bit, I don’t know why but I do dislike some of the changes made in the musical compared to the odyssey, they’re cool but sometimes I feel like it’s a bit too much. Such as the whole Poseidon stabbing thingy. (I’ve talked about this b4)

-Polites, I don’t dislike him, but I dislike how fast his character came and went, I didn’t feel sad for Polites when he died because we only had a small amount of time to know him., and Compared to Eurylochus I was devastated when he was cooked like bacon. I felt his character was just there… then continued to just be there.

-The demonstration and characterization of Telemachus, I think many can agree when I say I do not like how infantized he is portrayed, or kidlike, this has made people confused about his age, he’s 20/21 people.

-The musical sometimes Justifying Odysseus’s actions here and there and making him look real good. Of course the musical is from Odysseus’s pov so it makes sense.

Anddd that’s it!

Now…the fandom…..😀

-the mischaracterization of characters. Such as Eurylochus, Odysseus, Penelope, etc. they believe characters have a one track persona, and that’s it. But in reality they are all very diverse

-lying/spreading false information. I see it all the time specifically twitter and TikTok. Polites having a daughter, Penelope in wanting to get shot by the arrows, or she’s standing behind them???, Telemachus and Circe that’s not in the Odysseus it’s a different story and a modern spin of the story of Circe. And whatever made up shit some create to win arguments.

-tearing down different art styles. This really irritates me, though it’s a small majority, it’s agitating how they easily tear down lots of very talented epic animators and artists, because that artwork is their babies. It’s so disappointing to see.

-odysseus being infantised. I hate this. Some people in the fandom make him an uwu baby boy who can do no wrong and well “everyone else is at fault but Odysseus” it irritates me.

-Media illiteracy, sometimes I believe some people don’t understand the story sometimes, and how it’s supposed to be a tragedy. (This can also be in the mischaracterization idea)

-The inability to understand other perspectives. I’ve seen plenty of debates but I’ve also seen people bring down others for having differing perspectives, I’ve experienced it myself. In fact I at one point was receiving some incredibly rude stuff in my inbox for creating fun drawings of Eurylochus, and enjoying his character.

I’ve deleted both twitter snd TikTok for most of these major points. Both sites are addicting, and so very toxic based on the people on it.

-

Of course these certain people make the fandom look real bad, but it’s so common and popularized within the fandom.

And yes I’m tagging cause I want people to see this lol.

[peppertaemint]

JM & The Peacock

Quite a few people have been waiting for this post so I hope I can do it justice. Here we go…

There are different ways for people to peacock, and different reasons why they might do it. Think about it like this: when you go to a job interview, you want to have a bit of pizzazz, right? You want the interview panel to walk away thinking, they’re a perfect fit, and forget about all the other interviewees. Peacocking is what people (and animals) do to show they are a good fit for something, and something is usual mating/partnering. *chokes*

Is it always romance and relationships? No. When we’re trying to make new friends, some level of peacocking can occur, too, depending on personality type. When we make new social connections, invariably people want to demonstrate their value as a connection. To a potential friend, you are saying “I’m fun” or “I’m worth knowing,” and you might do that by showcasing all your dirty Hannibal fanfics or your collection of priceless Fabrege eggs. 

What does this have to do with our favourites, KM? Well, I hope I’m not bursting any bubbles here, but JK seems to have gone through a peacocking phase with Jimin lasting from sometime in 2014 and calming by 2018. And, just so we’re clear, I’m not talking about peacocking in the pick-up artist sense, where someone wears something outlandish to attract interest in hopes of a hookup. As I said, I’m specifically talking about the acts some people do to differentiate themselves as worthy mates. And these behaviours tend to have attention-seeking qualities, hence the connection to the word.  So, yes–you got me–I am saying that JK has done things to show himself as a good potential mate for JM. As much as I try to rationalize this list of actions, I can’t possibly understand them in any other context. If they just have a bromance, it’s the wildest bromance on record. o.O

Let’s get to it. JK loves demanding and holding Minnie’s attention. But, peacocking is more about sending a specific message through your actions to your desired. These are my favourite “peacocking” moments. Maybe you can even add to the list![[MORE]]

JK using a soccer ball to lure Tae away from JM and then take his place

This is a really early example and you could almost write it off as just a flirt tactic, if it wasn’t clear JK was scheming, knowing the camera was capturing everything he did. That means he knew that at some point JM would see what he did (message = received). Tae is sitting beside JM, so JK kicks the ball toward him, and as soon as Tae goes after the ball, he swiftly takes his place next to JM. This is a clever and cute way to demonstrate the lengths you’d go to be beside someone, and I would have loved to see JM watching this video at the time.

Consistently ranking Jimin lowest in looks

For the first year or so, JK was constantly put on the spot to rank the members according to their looks. Invariably, he always ranked JM the lowest. Why is this peacocking? It fits the pigtail-pulling school of flirting, of course, but it’s also a very loud way of differentiating yourself. He’s drawing attention to JM by placing him last over and over. I bet you never remembered how he ranked Suga, for example. He’s also showing daring because he’s not catering to the feelings of JM. In a lot of ways, he’s saying to JM, I know you can take it, so come play with me at this level. He’s not being mushy or soft. 

Backhug slow dance

Hmm, doesn’t this look like something you’d expect KM to do now? But this is from 2015. They are at an event, dressed to the nines, and JK pulls JM into a romantic slow dance. He’s skirting his hands over his hip bones and pelvis, leaning and caressing. This is very “I’ve got you, babe, and I don’t care who knows.” Given the time frame of this, it feels very peacock-y and a little shocking.

The on-stage stare (0:10)

Again, this is c. 2015ish. And this moment was one of their first, big public stares (lol, what a sentence). Prolongued, unbroken eye contact is not a platonic action, and JK’s body language here is very assertive. Since our society is super heteronormative (yuck), if you were to replace Jimin with a lady, what would your conclusion be? Probably that JK is “staking a claim” or “making his interest known.” Given the context of this moment (surrounded by an audience during a concert), it seems more like JK is making a statement to show his boldness and lack of fear when it comes to JM. He’s saying, Yep I’m looking at you and everyone can see. Got a problem with that? He’s setting a bar and asking JM to join him.

The Run BTS police episode with the spanking

This clip has been discussed a million times, but let’s think about the context. They’re shooting a variety show. There’s probably 10+ people watching them behind the camera, plus the other group members. So what does JK do? He shows off his strength and his dominance, lol. He’s saying, I can take care of you but I can do with you what I please. And I don’t care who sees. If that sounds a bit too overbeaing, think of it like this: he’s saying, We can play like this, and I’ll start. And, if you watched the whole episode, you’ll know that JM does return the play. He smacks him a little too hard with a book. Oopsie! (caveat: we don’t know what was filmed first, but I would still hazard that the smack came after this).

Stealing candy from JHope to give to Jimin (6:55ish)

I love this one because it’s as basic as it comes. Minnie seems to want a candy, so JK just grabs it from JHope and gives it straight to Minnie. Well, he actually feeds it to him directly. Oh boy. And I love Hobi’s face because he’s smiling as he looks at JK, but once he looks away, he’s got unmistakable distaste on his face LOL. But, this one is really transparent, and JK’s self-satisfaction is apparent in his swagger as he does it. JK is like, You need something? I will get it for you, no matter what it takes (even if I’m annoying my Hyung). Showing preference and a willingness to put someone before others is a definite sign of interest and worthiness. I will put you first.

Walking through a sprinkler unbothered (BV2)

Okay, this is classic peacocking for a few reasons. Before JK walks through this sprinkler at the urging of Tae & JM, he was standing on the rocks looking at the ocean with the two. Then, a wave came in and splashed him, and only him. JM died of laughter, and JK was a little embarassed. It was genuinely funny. But, if you’re trying to impress your desired, you don’t want to let on that you’re annoyed/mortified that the perfect moment was wrecked? That would show too much ego and pridefulness. So, when there’s a suggestion to walk through a sprinkler, he accepts without hesitation: water is no foe of mine! It’s all about showing you don’t care in front of your desired, but also taking another opportunity to make that person laugh.  

Re-enacting Jimin’s songs & dances for comedic effect

There are many examples of this, especially of the song Lie in particular. JK loves to mimic his singing and dancing, but what’s really going on here? He’s showing he knows all of JM’s lyrics, how to sing the song and how to do all the dance steps. He’s also paying homage in a way that makes JM laugh. And, it also ensures all eyes are on him for something that relates to JM. Isn’t that interesting? o.O

GDA 2017 dance

Ah, this is one of my all-time favourite examples. Peacocking is all about drawing the attention of your desired, and what does JK do? He decides to sexy dance for JM on TV and in front of a live audience, and yes, that dance is for JM, not for us nor for the audience present… You might be thinking, oh, he’s just being goofy. Did you see JM’s reaction? That isn’t the reaction of “my friend is a goofball” – that’s rare shyness on JM’s behalf. This one, like others, is about fearlessness and not caring who’s watching. And that fearlessness is about daring to be a bit sexy for JM on purpose in front of others, as well as saying, I’ll embarass myself just to put a smile on your face.

As you can probably see from the list of examples, a lot of these actions are designed to invite JM to either play with him in a certain way, or show JK’s daring. Flirting (and mating) rituals are as much about play as they are the biological stuff going on in the background. We look for people who play how we play, enjoy what we enjoy and respond to our behaviours in a desireable way. Consider this: if baby JK did the slow dance with JM, and JM just turned around, slapped him and walked away, that would be a clear message, wouldn’t it? Or, if in the Run episode, instead of returning the play, JM was angry or annoyed, wouldn’t that show incompatibility and a misstep on JK’s part? Hmm!

As a relationship evolves, actions that would be seen as peacocking during a courthship period become affirmations. Examples of this could be grabbing the giant chunk of snow in the hills in New Zealand, the GCF video(s) and Rosebowl. And beyond these meaningful actions, JK’s peacocking has really translated into over-the-top, cornball flirting. Some examples:

Do you smell something burning? … My heart is burning.

What do you get when you mix blue and red? … That’s right, I purple you.

Singing “Jimin nothing stronger” to the tune of BwL.

Reading a fortune cookie to Jimin during an official interview (+room full of people) and saying his name informally. “May I say this to you? Jimin-ah, if you’re not #1, it’s okay. (Where are you going??) You’re always #1 to me.”

His mock use of the impersonal “Jimin-ssi” in so many different flirty tones.

Does JM peacock? He does, but not in the same way. JM is about affection and possession. JK has always been the apple of his eye, but over time, he became JM’s prize, or his prince to put it in a less weird way. And, JM has always been content to show his clear desire for JK without any subtlety. Perhaps we could think of it like JM tells and JK shows. JM does show too, but let’s consider these paraphrased lines: 

I like you so much I don’t know what to do 

I can’t live because of you 

We are in a love relationship 

On my day off, I will go on a date with Jungkook

I want to go on a trip with Jungkook

Jungkook I promised to go to the moon with me Jungkook

The person who makes me happiest is Jungkook

The thing that makes me happiest is when I wake up and see Jungkook

[hd-erised]

Thank you so very much to all our amazing writers, artists, pinch-hitters, readers, commenters, and reccers who once again made this fest such an amazing success!

If you haven't had time to make it through all the fantastic works here yet, we hope that you'll still read and leave some love for our writers and artists! Comments are appreciated all year round! ;) As are commenters—like you amazing readers and participants, including the phenomenal 440 people who have left an incredible total of 1898 comments on H/D Erised works this year—thank you for all you do to make this community what it is!! And a special shout-out, again, to our ever-expanding list of all-star commenters, who have commented on more than half (and sometimes way more!!) of this year’s works: blueheart_V, @sorrybutblog, khalulu, @nv-md, @hoko-onchi-writes, and veradubhghoill!! Thank you!!!

We'll be going through the works today, revealing the authors on AO3, removing the mod account as a co-author, and adding the creator names to the tumblr headers. We'll be sending the participants a wrap-up email when we've finished with all the final admin things on our end.  

Thanks again for making this another brilliant round of Erised! We hope to see you all again next year! <3 @epitomereally @honeybeet @nv-md

Art:

@elizah321 drew Brewed Awakenings for @jessixaluci [T]

@bicholsdrarrysideblog drew The Case of the Mysterious Baker for @sorrybutblog [G]

@discessio drew Ceilings. for @karamelised [M]

@threading-fate drew Us, again? for @nv-md [M]

@frm9pm drew Unemployed and On Guard for @makeitp1nk [T]

@legendrarry drew No One but Me for justlikewriting [M]

@faiell drew Stolen Glances for @dodgerkedavra [T]

@sharperthan drew Hauntingly Familiar for @moonflower-rose [T]

Fic + Art:

@fantalfart wrote & drew A Dragon to Call Mine for @annanother-thing [E, ~24,000]

Fic:

@agentmoppet wrote Where Starlight Falls for @citrusses [E, ~33,700]

The magic concealing Sirius’s Last Will and Testament doesn’t reveal the full extent of Harry’s inheritance until two years after the war. When it does, it turns out that Harry has inherited more than just the Black Family vault—he’s inherited the family’s magic, too. He just has to find it first. And he needs Draco Malfoy’s help to do it.

@sorrybutblog wrote Runaway Train for @lqtraintracks [E, ~18,100]

Harry was already keen to figure out what’s been causing a series of disturbances in the London Underground before Draco Malfoy showed up acting suspicious. Two explosions, several very confused Muggles, and a cloud of mysterious sticky powder later, Harry and Malfoy can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Can Harry shag his way to the answer to all of his questions? Seems unlikely, but what can a man do but try?

veradubhghoill wrote At Night All Birds Are Black for IzRoan [E, ~51,800]

Harry loves being an Auror—the long hours, adrenaline-fuelled chases, and even the paperwork. But when a haunting leads to his suspension, he’s forced to continue his investigation in secret. As he unravels the murder of a young girl, he turns to the one person he never expected he’d need: Draco Malfoy.

@oknowkiss wrote The Melting Point of Wax for @vukovich [M, ~10,500]

Harry Potter is many things: captain of the Chudley Cannons, the fun uncle, a good enough friend, comfortable in the life he’s built for himself. Comfortable, that is, until a risque broom advertisement and a rumor about a fellow athlete come together to send him spiralling into the world of high-stakes broom racing, high-flying turtles, and the chaos of falling in love.

justlikewriting wrote Body and Soul for @a-sentimental-man [M, ~22,200]

When the headaches became worse and it got more and more difficult for Draco to work, he was left with no other choice but to recognise his stupid problem exactly for what it was. Even if that meant realising that the best, or perhaps even only, solution could solely come from one person: the one person he hadn’t seen for months, the one person he was still in love with. The one person who should never know. Because, clearly, Harry would never be able to give Draco what he needed anyway.

@citrusses wrote The Pain From an Old Wound for @sharperthan [T, ~31,100]

Getting hit with a mysterious blood curse is all in a day’s work for Harry Potter. Having to work with his former colleague, rival, bully, and boyfriend, is not. Harry’s not sure which is going to do him in first: the curse sucking his magic dry, or Draco Malfoy, as frustrating, condescending, and painfully attractive as he’s always been.

@lqtraintracks wrote The Most Splendid Thing for @sleepstxtic [E, ~61,200]

Star Quidditch rivals Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter become accidentally bonded. They still hate each other, but now it’s untenable to leave each other’s sides—and my, but it feels oh so good to touch. They’re either going to murder one another, or fall in love. OR: A story in which Draco finally allows himself happiness, and Harry finally learns that he deserves to be whole.

xErised wrote Borealis Green for @faiell [E, ~47,200]

Draco left Harry on the night of their first kiss, when they were eighteen. Ten years later, Harry, now Deputy Lead of the Norwegian Aurors, barges back into Draco’s life at the Ministry, seeking his help—both personal and professional—for a case, to re-capture Rodolphus Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood. Turns out that Draco couldn’t really get over Harry, either.

IzRoan wrote Don’t Fear the Reaper for @thehoneybeet [E, ~36,900]

Harry anticipates it’s Luna or maybe Hermione at Grimmauld Place, here to rouse him out of purgatorial listlessness once again. Instead, Harry finds an opinionated crow, a scroll with his name on it, and one exhaustingly persistent Draco Malfoy, who insists that Harry is his latest soul to Reap. The only problem is…Harry’s still alive. Or so he thought.  Quote: Learning how to live takes a whole life, and, which may surprise you more, it takes a whole life to learn how to die. - Seneca

@tessacrowley wrote Sub rosa for @hoko-onchi-writes [E, ~37,100]

After the tragic and unexpected death of his mother, Draco Malfoy’s quiet life as Potions Master, Head of Slytherin, and Hogwarts professor gets upended—first by the manifestation of mysterious and inexplicable magic, and then by the revelation of an inheritance deliberately hidden from him his entire life.

@thecouchsofa wrote Bare Moon Rising for xErised [E, ~15,500]

Potter moved towards him, sticking his hand out. “If that’s the case, we’re both doing it. You do the nude Tornados calendar, and I’ll do the Auror one. Most sales wins.”  Oh no.  “Are you backing out already?” Potter leaned in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Finally admitting that mine’s bigger than yours, then? Or do you want to cop a feel first?”  Charities could bugger off. Nothing good ever came of them, really.

@jessixaluci wrote Fighting the Chill for @bicholsdrarrysideblog [M, ~25,400]

What should have been an average and dull day for Draco Malfoy, turned rather south when he’s attacked in the middle of Diagon Alley.

@garagepaperback wrote palindrome for @threading-fate [E, ~25,800]

“Why did you let me kiss you?” Potter smirks.  “That’s not how I remember it. Why did you let me kiss you?”  “I’m stuck in a time loop. You’re not going to remember, so,” Draco’s tongue drags, calcified around the words. “Why not.”  Potter’s brows furrow but the smile stays intact. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

@amomorii wrote A Soft Place to Fall for @epitomereally [E, ~142,500]

When Harry arrives for his first year teaching at Hogwarts and is struck with a bizarre malignance, how on earth is he supposed to react when Draco Malfoy suddenly cares?

@starquestingfordrarry wrote All These Winding Threads for @amomorii [E, ~35,400]

The tides of Draco’s accidental magic pull him under and leave him gasping. There’s a hungry ache that sits deep in his bones, growing worse every day. Soon it’s all he’ll be, a starving skeleton clawing at its throat.  He needs a solution. Unfortunately, that solution looks an awful lot like Harry Potter. 

@annanother-thing wrote Second Chance Resort for @elizah321[E, ~42,800]

A holiday forced on him by his friends after the latest in a long string of failed relationships might be a chance for Harry to relax, but all that is thrown up in the air by the appearance of one newly divorced Draco Malfoy. Mainly because they had been together almost fifteen years ago before Draco broke it off to marry the woman his mother chose for him… Feat. a matchmaking hotel, a spa day, an all-knowing Weasley, and friends who do try their best, but can get a little distracted.

@jtimu wrote Seven-and-sixpence for @oknowkiss [E, ~35,700]

The entire plan of Harry’s life had been defeat evil, become an Auror, marry Ginny. Not necessarily in that order, but it seemed to be going that way, the first two managed and the third in easy limbo. He can be better, though. He can be more. Draco will see to it.

khalulu wrote Slip Slidin’ Your Way (In a Land of Fire and Ice) for @frm9pm [T, ~9,800]

How does a war-scarred young wizard recuperate and create a new identity? Harry opens himself to the magic of the land. Draco learns to wonder at the humblest of creatures. Years later, Magigeologist Evan Jameson and Malacologist Derek Black begin an enthusiastic correspondence. They’re in for a shock when they finally meet. Or: Science nerds go to Iceland and fall in love. Or: Why should kelp have all the fun?

@epitomereally wrote Pillar of Salt for @agentmoppet [E, ~62,200]

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

@a-sentimental-man wrote Prescription for @fantalfart [G, ~2,600]

Draco couldn’t say he hated his job, not really. In fact, he loved it⁠—and wasn’t that something surprising, a Malfoy being a Healer, when most of them hadn’t worked a day in their lives?—and most of all, he loved knowing that he was helping people heal, above anything else. (And if there was a part of him that craved the normalcy of something that helped instead of what he had been taught to do his entire life? Well. That was between himself and his journal when he remembered to write in it.) (And maybe there was another reason too.)

@traylalascrisis wrote Old love don’t rust for @drarrydoodles [E, ~20,600]

“Why do you keep coming?” Malfoy asked at last. Harry mulled over the question. For a moment he debated trying to turn the tables and asking Malfoy the very same thing. But this time he didn’t want to hold back. “Because I can’t stop,” Harry said.

@karamelised wrote Equipoise for khalulu [T, ~88,200]

Ten years of peace have settled over the wizarding world, leaving Harry Potter feeling strangely adrift. Teaching Defense at Hogwarts is fine and all, but when mysterious magical blackouts start sweeping across the country, he can’t help but jump at the chance to investigate. It would be the perfect outlet for his restless energy - if he didn’t suddenly find himself tangled up in an elaborate charade, pretending to date the Prophet’s most illustrious journalist, Draco Malfoy. Between hunting down the cause of the blackouts and maintaining their ruse, Harry’s beginning to think that peacetime might actually be trickier - and far more surprising - than he’d bargained for.

@vukovich wrote Victory Lap for @traylalascrisis [E, ~4,700]

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat first.” For emphasis, he pinches the skin at my waist. I want to cover myself in him. I want to roll in him like a dog. I want to devolve on top of him. And he wants me to sit nicely and use a knife and fork first?

@maraudersaffair wrote My Mate for veradubhghoill [E, ~26,300]

Harry is a new Alpha and Draco is his Omega Healer. Draco wants to help Harry but Draco struggles to control himself whenever he is around. And Harry wants to breed Draco. Desperately so. Things come to a head when Draco and Harry become trapped with one another. Draco doesn’t have his suppressant and it sends them both into heat. While they wait for help, will Draco be able to avoid being claimed by Harry? Does he even want to avoid it? Harry is gorgeous and strong, and Draco would love to have him as a mate. He just can’t fathom a world where Harry Potter willingly chooses him.

@smehur wrote Just a little liquid luck for @shiftylinguini [E, ~5,400]

Tracking the movement of Potter’s eyes, Draco runs a greasy finger over the thickest of his scars. “You like them, don’t you? Pervert.” Potter tosses his head back, jostling the mass of his curly fringe from his forehead. “I bet you were into scars long before you had any of your own, Malfoy.” Yes, Draco wants to say. I want to lick yours. What he says instead is, “Fuck you.” “Fuck you,” Potter echoes, putting the same pregnant emphasis on the F. Draco bites his lower lip, wrestling down the rise of euphoria. “Your turn,” he says. “Take that off.”

@sleepstxtic wrote As Luck Would Have It for @smehur [E, ~12,800]

In Sixth-Year, Harry and Draco both win a vial of Felix Felicis from Slughorn and, under its influence, have sex in the Room of Requirement. In the aftermath, can Draco and Harry navigate their respective roles in the war, while grappling with their burgeoning feelings for each other?

@hoko-onchi-writes wrote In a Year’s Turning for @maraudersaffair [E, ~89,400]

It’s been nine years. Surely, Harry can handle Draco being back—for Teddy’s sake.

@shiftylinguini wrote Storm’s Eye for @jtimu [M, ~12,400]

Harry’s surprised that Draco didn’t have wards up preventing mortally wounded former school mates-turned-ghosted work fellows from bursting into his house. In Harry’s addled mind, this seems like a great opening line to say to Draco’s gobsmacked face. He doesn’t get that far, though.

Or: Harry gets hurt, Draco is a vanishing alchemist who may or may not be able to save the day, but under no circumstances are either of them willing to talk about Their Feelings. Well. Maybe "mortal peril" circumstances will do it, actually.

@thehoneybeet wrote housewarming for @garagepaperback [E, ~6,000]

First, they had to decide where to live. It worked, until it didn’t.

@dodgerkedavra wrote Go Up to Gilead for @tessacrowley [E, ~106,700]

Harry Potter’s sense of purpose drops dead with Voldemort. So does Draco Malfoy’s freedom. Nine years later, Harry’s still a soldier. Draco’s still a sacrifice. Harry’s going to die in his Auror uniform, and Draco doesn’t deserve to live. But when the clock runs out on Draco’s sentence, a new one starts ticking. As it was, so it will be: they’ll survive together, or not at all.

@makeitp1nk wrote do you (one) better for @legendrarry [M, ~4,200]

Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor Harry Potter abruptly loses his Favourite Hogwarts Professor title to none other than Potions Professor Draco Malfoy. He swears it’s fine, really, but the feelings boiling within him say otherwise. Until Poppy Longbottom, Pansy and Neville’s hellion daughter, forces Hogwarts faculty and staff to engage in a very controversial Pureblood family tradition.

@doingthechachaslide wrote Of Stolen Glass and Burning Clover for @saintgarbanzo [E, ~27,800]

A week long international conference. A political scandal? A Malfoy beside the fruit tarts.

@saintgarbanzo wrote Baker’s Modern Wands for @starquestingfordrarry [E, ~43,600]

At Baker’s Modern Wands Lavender Brown is starting a revolution, Draco Malfoy is trying his best, and Harry Potter is really annoyed about it all.

@nv-md wrote Kiss Me, Fuck Me, Love Me for @doingthechachaslide [E, ~5,100]

Harry and Draco are running very late—they’ve got shirts to find, puppies to save, and champagne to buy. They’re also terribly, ridiculously, extraordinarily in love.

@moonflower-rose wrote Equally Cursed and Blessed for @thecouchsofa [E, ~18,200]

Harry’s back at Hogwarts to attempt his final year, again. This time he’s sure there’ll be no shenanigans. Well. Maybe there’ll be a few.

[boy222god]

2hollis as your boyfriend

Note: This is simply an assumption based off of my own understanding of his zodiac sign. DO NOT take this literally. Anyways enjoy <2

1. Getting into the relationship

Slow and steady burn:

Don’t expect him to be overly head over heels in love and crazed. he isn’t the type to rush into anything without taking his time and time is so important to him

For Hollis, it’s knowing the connection is there generally and no mask is covering up who YOU really are

Friends to lovers pathway here but strangers to friends to lovers is there too

To further deepen his curiosity about if he’s into you fully or not, there has to be consistency along with knowing you too have an interest in him since he probably won’t go for someone who only shows surface-level interest or flirts for fun

Earning his trust:

Hollis doesn’t trust easily. he has to know he won’t be posing any risks to himself since being exposed sucks

Would test the waters here and there to secretly watch how you handle things it’s the small stuff that matters and determines how much trust he gives

impressing him:

Feel like he’s into those who are driven by passion so if you have projects, goals, or anything in a creative sense that you put your all into, he’s interested in you

If you’re an artist in the sense of making music like him, there’s an appreciation for how you work and perceive your work to reach perfection. something you two could bond about

Bonus points: sharing a similar career brings you two closer since you’re well aware of how he grinds and the overall functions of music/the music career

Catching his full attention:

Just be yourself, show that you’re full of confidence and have lots of patience towards him since during this stage, he might seem reserved but again he’s trying to get a feel if things are right

Dropping hints?

Flirt but subtle flirting

Teasing, giving compliments, wanting to spend time with you

Again with the slow build but do believe the tension is there and grows more the more he falls for you

If you happen to notice, it’s best to remain from being too pushy so show the same energy back— maintain a balance that’s still at his pace because it’s his way or the highway

Getting together:

After running all his little tests to determine you’re what he wants, this is the time frame where he starts to find any tiny excuse to get you two alone

Texts and/or calls more

Wanting to meet up trying/never missing events that involve you because he wants to make it clear that he cares about you

Letting up more or being clear that he’s fully into you and that he’s serious about wanting to see where things go between you both

Most likely would ask you out during an outing together and he’s sweet about it. def all in for you

2. Already in the relationship

Supportive:

Ensures that any shared goals or personal goals are aligned in a way quite

Literally the kind of boyfriend that helps you with emotional support to help with mapping out things you value the most. he’s just a 100% fanboy/supporter of you

His way of showing love is through actions so trust that you’ll actually see he supports and loves you often in those manners rather than verbal but verbal isn’t entirely cut out

Ambitious but romantic:

Will always focus on his music/career but that doesn’t mean he’ll miss out on time with you so easily date nights are a thing and he makes sure that nothing interrupts you two from enjoying each other’s company

Majority of the dates are something fun, something you both can enjoy and sometimes those dates aren’t always outside. some are at his or your house (shared when the time is right)

During the relationship, understand that he isn’t showcasing it every single moment. Hollis is the kind of person that will post you to let people know you’re still together but he has no desire to let the media/public see everything about you both

Knowing you respect that and even the same gives him ease of mind and makes him warm knowing that such intimate moments are strictly shared between you two and anyone close to you both (close friends and family) who happen to witness it

Challenges?

No couple can avoid it so don’t expect rainbow and sunshine

There will be times when he gets caught up in his work and you might feel you’re competing for his attention during those times, but once you have a sit down about it and explain how you’ve been feeling, he’ll take a step away to re-focus and enjoy the moments in life where work isn’t consuming him

Stubborn as fuck… do not assume this man will change his ways so easily

Your reasonings and perspective have to be logical enough to prove right and maybe then he’ll compromise to agree with you but again, it’s not easy

Isn't into drama/gossip if it doesn't concern him

Occasional struggle with speaking on emotions but gets there eventually

Sweet stuff:

The kind of boyfriend to celebrate your wins. big, small, medium— he’s celebrating it

Pushes you to be your best self and loves when you push him to do the same (although he does that perfectly fine)

Witnessing his goofy side (obviously) that the public doesn’t get to see. This could be a range of cracking jokes, sharing whatever appears on his fyp/timeline, dancing around to songs, even creating silly little songs for you.

An overall ball of sunshine

LOVES gift giving but not so often that you know you’re getting it subtle about it and the gifts are always something you’ve been eyeing because let’s be real— he’s the kind of boyfriend that peeps what you like and makes a mental note about it to get it for you

Entirely loyal to you and protective

Note pt2: First official post. Part 2 of him being your boyfriend coming soon but intimate ver.

© boy222god 2025 all rights reserved - please do not repost my work on other platforms or translate.

[bvidzsoo]

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! ^^

[amphitriteswife]

Hi! If you are accepting requests right now can you please write dating headcanons for Peter, Nathaniel, Thaddeus and Alipede from killer peter? Thank you ❤️

Killer Peter Dating Headcanons

Sorry anon, i don’t write for peter or Nathaniel just yet!

🐉 congratulations! You now obtained a silly boyfriend who’s also a skilled martial artists and kills ppl. But he’s not evil and just wants to protect what is dear to him!

🐉 He would convince you not to visit him in his hometown. Not because he doesn’t want you there but because he is certain the rest of the people who do not approve of hom being the head there would try to target you instead of him. He can’t put you at risk for anger that is targeted at him, so he would meet you in other towns/ places. Just not his home town.

🐉 Thaddeus is overall very affectionate. Lots and i mean LOTS of hugging. He sees you as more than just his partner okay? You’re going to be his bff! His family! He loves you more than he can describe! A feeling he hasn’t felt before! So please bare with him while he figures it out. He’ll also hold your hand a lot and talk to you like 24/7. He’s a yapper okay😼

🐉 sometimes Thaddeus can come over as childish. But that’s because he trust you. He’s playful and yes he’s like that with everyone, but just because he’s playful doesn’t mean he can’t be serious. He just prefers to live his life happier and sillier. To him he doesn’t mind if you are/aren’t silly or childish. He’ll like you either way! You’re set with him now since he’s ur boyfriend so he can handle it!

🐉 lots of cuddles. I feel like he would be very clingy as a boyfriend imo. Even cuddling you in his sleepZ he would either have your head on his chest, his head on your chest, spooning you, or he’s laying on you with his full weight. He’s always touching you even if it’s just with his pinky

🐉 i feel like Thaddeus would like out going dates a lot! He’s very extroverted and easy to get along with so he’ll be fine either way even if you don’t want to go outside. But a date of his pick is deff outside. Fair dates, shopping dates, beach dates. You get the idea. He would win you prizes, feed you candy and tanghulu. He’ll buy you ice cream at the beach! Oh you want to stay inside? Even more ice cream!

🐉 actually wears matching clothes with you. You know those Chinese street wear videos? Yeah he LOVES those. It truly depends on his mood to he honest, sometimes he’s SUPER overdressed. But most of the time he’s pretty casual. He’ll give you his clothes of you ask. He doesn’t mind if you wear them too. You can take the earrings and chains too if you want. Sharing is caring after all!

🐉 He’ll be a little secretive about his occupation but that’s because he wants to keep you save. He doesn’t enjoy it…but it brings in money so…..yeah. There is a high chance he might quit if you two are getting pretty serious and he’ll do something else! He doesn’t want you around thay stuff

🐇 I think we all saw that Alipede was insecure during the fight with Peter. Hell Peter himself even said it out loud. So what does this mean? Alipede is INSECURE as hell in your relationship. 200%

🐇 i feel like you’d need to get along with his bunnies. Or at least tolerate them. Alipede has a strong emotional bonds with them since he sees himself im the bunnies. The red eyes and white hair ofcourse. So he wants you to also acknowledge that he has an emotional connection to the bunnies. That’s why he wants you to get along with them. If you’re scared, he’ll have no problem by teaching you how to not be scared or helping you overcome your fears.

🐇 Soft Tsundere boyfriend. Quite jealous too. It’s not the possessive jealous though. It’s the insecure jealous. So he needs you to convince him that you do want him and not anyone else okay? He’ll also feel embarrassed for actually feeling that way and sulk a bit about it.

🐇 don’t make fun of his blindness. He doesn’t take kindly to that. Not at all. He’ll be very hurt because of it too. It’s a NO. For him. You are allowed to compare them for something. He doesn’t mind you commenting on him being Albino. But he doesn’t take kindly to insults. So watch out.

🐇 when it comes to Alipede trying to court you: he WILL try to use his huzz. Yes he tries to be charming. Remember when he was disguised as someone else and flirted with Ahn Jiwon (the blind lady)? Yes he will try to do it with you too. And no he doesn’t feel any shame about it too. The moment he has his eyes on you, he’s not letting go easily.

🐇 actually prefers low-key dates. So at home, chilling. Maybe even a bit romantic. But still just you and him. He prefers for the focus to be on the two of you and getting to know one another very well. Perhaps even deep conversations or certain stances on different subjects.

🐇 doesn’t mind you knowing about his occupation, if it’s a No for you he’ll understand and move along. Just don’t tell anyone about it. You might not actually survive that. If you have the same occupation as him he’s actually going for a rival like relationship! He thinks it’ll add more spice to the relationship too!

[shuenkio]

Midas touch | 선우 (͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°) 엔.하.이.픈 ᝰ.ᐟ

Paring: Sunoo X Male!reader ᝰ.ᐟ Genre: Suggestive, Fluff.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Synopsis: Big boy is upset and sulking knowing that you'll be working as a makeup artist on the other members

Cw: slight Curse, jealous, a lil possessive.

Non proof read / Eng is not my 1st.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

AᝰN: Sorry to my anon that I didn't do justice for this to be smau :( after thinking and write through for a while I'm okay with the suggestive instead. I hope you don't mind and give it a go >< thanks for the idea .

➽──────────────❥

Every fans dream was to be close to their own idols, such as work as stylists, make up artists, managers and so on. But little did they do, there was no love involved. Work means work, you can't go to work just to love your idol, you go to work for passion and living, isn't that right? Common sense.

However it was one in a million that you get chosen as a male make up artist for one of a popular boy group, ENHYPEN. Yet that was in the past, actually you've worked for them for God knows how long, ever since their Debut era, Given-Taken. If somebody asks how many things you've witnessed watching them grow, Proud is the only answer.

Being this young, and getting to walk in the same journey with the 7 boys, it's truly life changing, not only watching them grown, your mindset, maturity, emotional have grown too. You get to pinpoint what's right or wrong.

Present time, the one and only member that you've been working for the ultimate is Sunoo. To say how experienced you were with him, is quite easy. Sunoo is a guy who's easily outgoing, fun to talk to, making you feel exist, being by his side is never bored just sometimes when he's bored, he's scrolling his media.

➽──────────────❥

Making your way to the music show make up room, because ENHYPEN just came back with a new repackage album. There'll be tons of work for shooting promotions music shows, make up is very... Important.

Today is different, the boy's manager approaches you with some other new staff as well. He announced that you will be moved to work with another member, that turns out to be Jungwon for the next few months since the former staff took their break, while Sunoo got a new female staff member. Somehow it makes no sense why you have to move, when the new staff could go right to Jungwon but soon, was explained by the manager himself, that Jungwon suggested he wanted to work with you, also Sunoo is getting along pretty well with girls so why not. It clicked after the manager in the state, nothing more to be curious about.

Get to work right after, as you are doing make up for Jungwon, the leader seems happy that you agree to work with him while he chit chat with you how he had seen your work, your calm presence, and your aura around Sunoo and other people as well which response by your chuckle. Is that all he wanted? Silly boy. Beside that, Jungwon would find many dad crack jokes on you, practice his flirty skills out of the blue that affect you a lot, finding yourself tummy freeze from laughing.

Unbeknownst to you, Sunoo is upset and sulking on the other side. He was pouting all the time as the new female staff did her job quietly, and didn't dare to ask why. He was seen taking a deep sigh, chin resting, and introvert the whole time. Not when he heard Jungwon is flirting with you, all the goofy and cheese stuffs hearing from the other side that would make him hot. Yet he bottled it up, waiting for the right moment to have a talk with you?

Nearly time up for the attendance for the promotion shooting, the manager would ask all the members to get prepared, pee or drinks and essential things to do, that could delay the time. Coincidentally, as you are making your way to the bathroom, you see Sunoo was there too, but it seems like, when he looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed together just like you did something to make him mad.

Just like usual, best friend for many years, you go up and ask what's wrong with him, politely when he responds back making you surprised.

"M/n you never know who I am but... Seeing you with Jungwon makes my heart hurt!! Come back to me" instead of throwing a tantrum, Sunoo jotting his bottom lip out, pouting on the edge of crying as he speaks.

What is going on really, this is not sad but funny.

"oh gosh Sunoo snort i never knew you'd cry for this, but it's just a few months. It's not like

I only did it on him bias, sometimes I'd work on other members too including you, stop sulking it's not Sunoo anymore" You claim, explain how it works, as results that does light him up a lil bit, before flashing you a bright smile like he used too.

"Hug? Please~"

" sigh Okay, Hug" intended your arm open, as his talk frame wrapped around your small body. His hand smoothed over your back in slow, soothing circles, and you could feel the unspoken comfort in the way his chin rested on the crooked of your neck. All at once, the naughty hands of Sunoo grope both of the cheeks behind your back, His hand found your cheek with a touch that was both rough and unintentional, the calluses of his fingers brushing against your skin like an afterthought.

"Sunoo!? What's this behavior" You whine, as his hand feels your butt cheeks, carelessly on it as if he worships them, giving them some attention in case they need it but that's just him.

"but I miss this saur much, well I think it's bigger than mine now the last I've touched it, haha" Sunoo wheeze under his throat, as he pulled back his hands away and handed up like a police officer arrested him.

"You naughty boy, you're only sunshine in front of the fan but not for me" Blushing, tinted on your face. Crossing your hands over your chest, turn away from his playfulness. At some points his touch does make you feel the unspoken strange too, it kinda... Hot?

"okay okay, I won't do it again M/n don't be mad at me. Oh they're calling! See you later, I'll treat you to a cup of coffee after this, mwah" Blowing the sweetest kiss, before disappearing out of your sight.

Exhaled softly alone in the rest room, you find yourself thinking about his sudden touch earlier that does magic on you that can't be forgotten easily. It's just a few weeks apart from him before the comeback, but he grows more bold? Sigh deeply.

"Shit, why am I rock hard over this. Pull yourself together M/N!"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

[ballsandbabes]

What would it be like to date Blue Lock

Authors Note: y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3

Genre: Headcanons I guess, pure Chaos and my opinion. Dating in general is chaotic, passionate, and oddly heartwarming rollercoaster—each of the boys brings their own flavor of intensity and issues I guess. + Boyfriend Types

⚽ Yoichi Isagi – The Thoughtful Overthinker

Dating Isagi is like dating a deeply analytical, loyal golden retriever.

He’s incredibly respectful, always checking in with your feelings, and he overthinks everything—especially when it comes to being good enough for you.

Expect long conversations under the stars about dreams, purpose, and love… followed by him rewatching your text messages three times to make sure he replied right.

Sooo Soft for you.

Basically a golden retriever.

Calls you every other day when you're on vacation.

He really appreciates that you always watch football games with him.

Is so close to marrying you, when you lose it at one of his games because you're so involved. Cheering and all.

Bonus: He’ll dedicate every goal to you without realizing he’s doing it out loud in post-match interviews.

⚽ Rin Itoshi: The Cold-Turned-Soft Tsundere

Dating Rin is like gently petting a porcupine until it melts into a kitten.

Will respect you.

Lets you steal his hoodies, even though he scolds you for it sometimes

He’ll act cold, detached, and vaguely annoyed even while carrying your bag or remembering your favorite snack.

But he listens. He really listens. The quiet moments when he opens up—even a little—feel like rare treasures.

Love Language: Quality Time 100%

Not a fan of PDA.

Gets so red when you take his hand in public. Will complain about it in private or at home -> leads to kissing or making out.

Victory kisses.

Rare and totally random deep conversations at three in the morning.

You may meet sae, but you have to be on Rin's side. You are his ally

He won't say “I love you” often, but when he does, it’ll feel like the world stopped.

⚽ Meguru Bachira: The Artistic Chaos Gremlin

Dating Bachira is like dating your childhood imagination come to life.

He’ll draw you in his sketchbook mid-conversation, paint little hearts on your cheeks, and call you his “monster buddy.”

Spontaneous dates? Constant. Midnight swings, paint fights, ramen adventures—he’s a whirlwind of creativity and affection.

Sometimes it's hard to follow his thoughts.

Vacation on the beach, you bring him shovels and cups to build a castle.

For your anniversary you will receive something like a sketchbook with drawings of you and him. With small notes or the cinema ticket from that evening. Super cute <3

He thrives on connection and needs reassurance sometimes, but when he smiles at you like you’re his entire world? Your heart’s done for.

⚽ Rensuke Kunigami: The Hero-Boyfriend

Dating Kunigami feels like dating a golden-age anime protagonist—protective, proud, and completely earnest.

He’s the kind of guy who will walk you home even if it’s out of his way, lend you his hoodie even if he’s freezing, and absolutely puff up when people flirt with you.

He’s not flashy, but he’s solid, dependable, and secretly a romantic at heart.

Always have hair gel with you so he doesn't look like Hagrid (that's what he looks like when he wakes up).

Loves you for that.

Once a week, you have a gym date just so he has an excuse to openly check you out.

Helps you with the weights, basically gym princess treatment

Found out that if he sends you unsolicited gym photos, you'll die from blushing. Finds it super endearing.

I rarely wear “real” clothes. Sportswear only.

Muscles…just for you.

Secretly loves it, when you feel/trace the muscles on his six-pack ,when you make out.

Bonus: He’ll take you to the gym and hold your hand between reps like it’s no big deal.

⚽ Hyōma Chigiri – The Graceful Heartbreaker

Dating Chigiri is like dating a supermodel who’s secretly soft for you.

He’s elegant, composed, and a little guarded at first—but your encouragement makes him bloom.

Expect dreamy dates with slow walks, wind in his hair, and shy glances that feel like poetry.

He’s fiercely loyal, and once you’ve earned his trust, he’ll run to the ends of the earth for you. Literally.

Basically a doubled wardrobe, with the most beautiful clothes

He likes to compliment you because, in contrast to his beauty, you have a few self esteem issues, he wants you to know he thinks your pretty

Love Language: Gift giving and words of affirmation

⚽ Shōei Barō: The Royal Pain (Who’d Die for You)

Dating Barō is like dating a lion that might eat everyone else but will carry you across the savanna like royalty.

He’s blunt, demanding, and incredibly proud—but acts of service are his love language.

He won’t say "I love you," but he’ll meal prep for you, fight anyone who disrespects you, and absolutely flex when you show up to watch him play.

Lots of sticky notes.

A bit possessive. Okay who am I kidding…..he is very possessive.

He lets you braid his hair.

Sometimes wears the hairstyle for training. Even if the young people make fun of it (Bachira thinks it's cute)

God forbid someone flirts with you—he’ll glare them into the void.

⚽ Sae Itoshi: The Cool Genius (With a Soft Spot)

Dating Sae is like dating someone too cool for his own good, but he softens just for you.

He’s sharp, charismatic, and used to being admired, so your lack of fangirling actually intrigues him.

He shows affection subtly—pulling you into his scarf on cold mornings or flying you out to surprise matches like it’s nothing.

And when he’s tired of the world, he always comes to you—because with you, he doesn’t have to perform.

NO PDA, only if he wants to show of.

You have to deal with a lot of fangirls. Like a lot of them.

quality time and gift giving are his love language.

Has a photo book with important moments, now there are photos of you in it too.

Don't want you to get to know Rin.

When you're traveling or flying on vacation, he'll lend you his chain.

Whenever possible, long mornings with cuddles.

Will NOT ever talk about it.

[plutoenjoyer]

soft junhan thoughts 💭

· this guy loves loves loves getting his hair played with

· it's like, the perfect amount of physical touch for him

· because he doesn't normally like it, you find ways to be affectionate with him in ways he's okay and comfortable with, and just twirling your fingers in his hair, or braiding it, or gently scratching the nape of his neck with a massage is sooo calming and not too much

· and you get to watch him just melt in your hands out of relaxation 🥹😵‍💫

· ART PROJECTS

· there's always doodling around you two

· he's leaving a note for you on your night stand? there's a cute little happy face drawn next to it. you're killing time waiting for your coffee at a café? he's doodling a little flower for you on a napkin.

· and you leave him doodles back of course. sometimes you'll draw something that accompanies his original drawing, and these are his favorite because you made it together, even if it's just a silly looking cat playing in a field of silly looking, badly scribbled flowers.

· it's one of his favorite ways to communicate with you because it's like your own little language. none of the other members, not even your family, can hear the love in these doodles between you two (and you two only)

· he likes having special secrets and inside jokes with you for sure

· and sometimes when you're both hanging out, you'll draw together. one of the funnier moments is when you decide to draw portraits of one another, and the results... varied, but it was still fun

· nail polish. oh you know exactly what I'm gonna say

· you guys paint each other's nails, usually you're touching up his usual black polish but sometimes he lets you get creative :)

· on the other hand, you love watching his artist brain work and how he uses colors on your nails to create the perfect vibe. sometimes you end up with vibrant polish on every nail, and sometimes you get a very simple and muted color palette. either way you're happy with them because he did it for you :]

· i think junhan values not only creativity in a person, but also values the willingness to discuss things. he likes that you genuinely try to take interest and understand what he's explaining to you, because he's someone who thinks deeply on things and shares that curiosity with the people he loves because he wants to engage with them.

· you really enjoy when he gets passionate and explains things to you because 1) it's cute and 2) he genuinely has lots of interesting takes on things (looks at his bubble messages)

· he appreciates that you even challenge his thinking sometimes because his introvert mind is always in his own head, and having someone to yank him out of his own bias is super refreshing!!!

· he shows affection with acts of service so much (since physical touch and words of affirmation are not usually his thing). he cooks for you and will do the dishes AND take out the trash so you don't have to do a thing

· i also think that he's suchhh a secret admirer, like compared to ode who likes to make his love known, junhan is stealing glances at your cute face when you're focused and when you confront him about it he's like

· "yes i was🙂"

· "ooookay...and can i ask why?"

· "oh, i just thought you looked pretty?"

· and you snicker because that's usually something you would just tell your gf, but you don't care. you tell him "you're handsome!" and you can't stop yourself from giving him a little peck on the cheek, to which he starts cutely giggling back

· you and junhan are so very tender and patient with one another, listening and valuing one another's time, truly the perfect pair!!!

· he has a 4 cut photo of you two tacked above his desk, sometimes when he's writing lyrics he looks up for inspiration :)

· just admires and respects you so much🥺💖

[heroicn0nsense]

I guess I'm about to get real vulnerable on main here, but I saw some kinda "BookTok" disk horse cross my BlueSky feed, and it's got me thinking in a way I really can only discuss without a character limit. But it feels kind of relative to an over all trans creative experience. Maybe more specifically for us masc people, but. You know. Maybe the threads are different but the weave a similar picture. Anyway, this is kinda what my tumblr blog has become, and so here goes. Please note I also use 'queer' as an all encompassing term, as to me it is the most inclusive word I can use despite its dubious origins and history. Sorry if that upsets anyone.

The funniest thing about this whole conversation popping up was the fact that I had just been lamenting about finding the concept of 'romantasy' fun but what I'd give to find or read something with a transmasc protagonist paired with an opposite partner of any gender. Something my masc bisexual ass would love to see. Mostly because I see and support so many ones that are sapphic in nature, but hardly see any masculine. Maybe I'm not looking in the right places but Anyway. Just so happened that in the next hour I saw what I was looking for cross my Bsky feed, but with the author show casing the really nasty and negative comments he received on his concept. things like but not limited to:

"of course the transmasc character is a twink bottom" "just a girl who got a mastectomy" And other just Internalized Misogyny and Heteronormative things that affect a good portion of us transmasculine guys.

And idk, man it really struck a nerve with me.

If only because first and foremost, the author is writing something he wanted to see. Filling a niche and void he wanted to see realized, and like so many other authors' works, in a way that feels personal to him. And to attack it in such a way was pretty vile.

Queer stories and creations in of themselves are personal stories, because we write from our own experiences, and put them in our original works whether subtly or not so subtly. It's there, and you can't separate the queer experience from a queer work because by its very nature its queer. But also like, that experience isn't the same for everyone. And we shouldn't expect it to be. So, no, not every work is going to be what you want or associate with. But we should be uplifting all of it so that someone with an idea or concept that does speak to you will have the confidence to bring it to the table. And yeah. Unfortunately, that sometimes means that cliches are gonna happen. That twink ass transmasc might end up being a bottom 75% of the time.

But it also like, led me to associate my own struggle of accepting my own body and transness and some of my own preferences in the bedroom.

I'm not saying that all writers, artists, or creators are using their method of making art to explore their own hang ups with their gender and bodies, navigating this absolutely messy and strange world of norms and expectations while simultaneously seeming to want to turn them on their head. Gender is complex. Being trans is complex. And it gets weird, and sometimes we need outlets to work our way through it.

But also, most of us transmasc people have vaginas. It's just a fact of life. We've got a big ol' gaping axe wound of an organ sitting between our legs and for a lot of us, it still feels good to stick something in it, and we shouldn't be ashamed of that at all. And hell, a lot of us are short, considering our genetics are wired that way and no amount of HRT is going to change the fact some of us aren't going to get past 5'5". But sometimes, especially with what is expected to be masculine by gender norms, and the physical form of a cis male body, it can sometimes be really hard to reconcile that.

I know it was for me. To the point where I often struggled with my sexuality and my relationship with intimacy about it for a long time.

I made my character Akihiro while I was, and still am parsing through a lot of my own dysphoric issues, and paving my own way to acceptance. And that's made him a deeply personal character to me. And he has grown and changed as I project a lot of those issues on to him and his development. Akihiro has been an exploration of myself as much as he is an an original character that I role play. But not so much in the ways of personality, but more in the ways of the challenges with which he is presented and has to navigate himself.

Akihiro is a trans man in a world that is accepting of it. Society has progressed past these petty and arbitrary standards. But he becomes a cyborg at a time where the question is instead what it means to be human, and so...The aspect of depersonalization, dysphoria, and depersonalization he experiences at the hands of transhumanism is not so different than what I have and do experience in my own transition.

Akihiro wasn't always trans. That was honestly a pretty recent development and one that I did struggle with making. And I realized I was struggling with it because of those same dysphoric issues. And I just needed to let them go.

It was reflected in another recent development; the way that I had Akihiro handle his genitals when he was presented with the option to upgrade from none to a functioning set. And he chose to go with what he had been born with, the genitals he had when his body was mangled. He went with a vagina. Because he wanted to embrace the body he had taken for granted before he lost it, and not some idealized version of himself he could have obtained at any point prior.

And yeah. He 'bottoms' the majority of the time for his boyfriend because he enjoys it. But it doesn't stop him from topping him either, nor enjoying that. Nor had it stopped him previously from being intimate with other men and women. And that's his preference as a character.

And who are we to say it wasn't the same for this author? Where he is putting his feelings and acceptance of his own body and desires onto paper? And that is being met with such vitriol because it's not someone else's idea of what is masculine, or whatever. I don't know. Maybe they weren't. Maybe they did just wanna write some twink ass boy getting dicked down and like, that's fine too. Why do we have to be so mad about that?

And maybe this was just a lot of words to say that I think we get so wrapped up in words and labels for things that it completely erases the nuances of our own experiences and it turns right back around to being so queerphobic and limiting. And we don't give ourselves, much less other people, the grace to create the things they want to, and from a place of their own experience and desire. It's harmful.

[worldume]

TWO DEMONS AND AN ANGEL….

˖┊ spotlight: yamato endo & chika takiishi.

˖┊ synopsis: (name) is endo and chika's favorite coloring book! they love to bully their sweet little lamb into doing things she’s not comfortable with. why? because they can & its fun!

˖┊ content: dark content, power imbalance relationship, bullying, themes of humiliation, implied polygamy, toxic relationship, coerced piercing, christina piercing, needles, alcohol transfer from mouth to mouth, afab reader, she/her pronouns, canonverse but endo and chika own a sleazy tattoo shop, tattoo artist endo, piercer chika for lore purposes, all characters are adults/aged up, endo and chika are awful!

˖┊ word count: 2k.

“you scared?”

“n—no but—” (name) stammered under his gaze, her voice cracking as she struggled to find her words. she averted her gaze from him, finding a sudden interest at chika moving about through the room as he gathered a few things around their shop. it was tucked away in a narrow sketchy alley in japan that looked like the kind of place only those in the know would visit— covered in graffiti and old posters with a flickering neon sign. the place had the vibe of a dive bar.

there was a small furrow in her brows and her lips tugged slightly in a glossy pout. no fair.. no fair!

looking at endo was so.. difficult for a couple reasons. number one: he was so fucking attractive. the kind of attractive that made her shy away from his gaze because she started to feel self conscious about everything little thing. did he like her hair? her makeup? the outfit she wore today? but more importantly, he could be just so mean if someone caught him on a bad day— he was finicky with his moods. and sometimes he didn’t want anyone looking him directly in the eye.

she’s witnessed first hand how brutally yamato beats people into a shell of themselves— weak people who he believes test who’s a poser and who’s not. endo is a pretty laid back guys for the most part, but, he has very little respect and tolerance for those who are weak. he thinks they’re boring, a drag and a complete waste of his fucking time. weak people get under his skin. weak people disgust him. weak people don’t deserve to call themselves human. and he couldn’t stand when weak people paraded around as though they weren’t.

but (name) was weak. so it makes her wonder why he keeps her around— why the both of them keep her around.. they’re not laughing at her behind her back right? she helps around.. sure she wasn’t the strongest person physically but she has uses.. or at least that’s what she tells herself.

you see, (name) is a pushover. a people pleaser. and a pathetic excuse for a spine. which is precisely why endo initially took such an interest to the girl— the irony, right? endo was just.. so tickled by it he giggled like a little kid who was told their first joke. he’s never seen anyone quite as pitiful as her. but he supposes women were an exception, right? endo almost found it.. cute? (name)’s looks were really the cherry on top of it all— a pretty little bow to wrap his present. just how could someone as pretty as her be such a.. disappointment. endo almost found it to be a waste of a perfectly good vessel, but.. he found that he gained some sort of sick gratification from bullying (name).

it was fun for him. and something to help pass the time when there’s nothing interesting going on. it was sad really— some of the things they made her do were nothing more than mere humiliation tactics that served no real purpose other than to see her actually do everything she’s told. no questions asked. like controlling when she use the bathroom, a “dress code” that usually consisted of micro mini skirts and the requirement of no panties, making her call herself awful things when she fails (bitch, slut and whore are some of noroshi’s favorites), her mouth being used as an ashtray— the list can go on.

‘how did such a sweet girl like (name) get caught up in this crowd?’ is what all the sweet townspeople of makochi ask amongst themselves when they see her on an off chance visiting her mom. but no one would be able to guess that she devoted herself to these men by choice. (name) felt as though she were indebted to endo and chika. that she owed the both of them all of herself because they saved her.

there had been a night where she had found herself walking alone after a night out with her friends, she was a little bit more than tipsy and stumbled across an alley she shouldn’t have. (name) remembers it well— stopping to pull out her phone for her gps. (name) hadn’t have been familiar with the area so she hadn’t been quite sure where she was. there was a voice behind her and all she knows is that she was being grabbed— she remembers screaming for help and thinking that it was her end. but that’s when they came to help her.

she remembers endo’s eyes that night when he got on one knee to match her level— her eyes drifting to chika who stood behind him. (name) couldn’t have been more thankful, they were her saviors..

that was then but now (name) felt as though she were walking on a pit of eggshells and thin ice— something seemingly so simple as holding the eye contact he was so insistent on made her feel uneasy sometimes which was so unfortunate because he has such pretty eyes. as much as she admired him, endo often used eye contact as a tool for intimidation— borderline a threat specifically for her alone. probably because he knew the only real thing he had to do was give her a look and she would submit— cowering like a scared little lamb so scared of getting gobbled right up by the big, bad wolf.

endo followed her gaze, tilting his head as his eyes bored into her own. he could admit that she was more than a looker— that sad, kicked puppy look really does something for him.

“but? but but but? but what.” it was a nasty sneer that left from endo’s lips as he mocked her. his lip curling in a way that screamed he was becoming more and more agitated by her hesitation— her lack of immediate compliance. this wasn’t their obedient little love— she was starting to piss him off.

“nothing— i just..” she trailed off. “will it hurt..? what if i cry?” she asked, looking up at him with the sweetest look. (name) were so naive it hurt. god— he could skull fuck her right now and he knew she’d absolutely love every single moment of it.

“sweetpea, you said you’d do anything for us. you didn’t lie to me did you?” he asked, brows furrowed as though he were actually hurt at the implication he just pulled from his book of manipulation.

“no..! of course not..!” she shook her head quickly.

“then a little pain shouldn’t be an issue, right? all the fights and trouble we get in for you isn’t even comparable.” there is was— he always did this. make her feel like she didn’t appreciate all that they’ve done for her which was her biggest fear.

“yeah, you’re right.. o–okay.. okay.” she let out a shaky breath as she nodded, a small smile growing on her lips as she felt endo’s hand pat her head.

“takiishi~ our little love’s all done bein’ a crybaby. c’mon.” he said.

chika sits down onto the roller stool, scooting over smoothly while the wheels squeaked over the cracked floor tiles so that he’s nestled in between her legs now. he spreads her lips apart, his eyes low as he watches how she clenches around nothing. hm. was she scared or was this arousal? it wouldn’t be the first time chika’s suspected she gets off on that kind of thing..

“wait— please!” panic rose in her chest, her cheeks heating up as she captured chika’s eyes. her pussy was completely bare before him, her thighs raided with tattoos that were more like brands as they stated slogans like ‘property of noroshi,’ ‘endo was here :),’ chika’s initials, and other dehumanizing phrases tattooed on her. to anyone else these could be perceived as insulting and degrading but for (name), she wore each proudly. of course the first time endo talked her into she had her reservations but she really just couldn’t say no, could she?

“will it hurt?” chika hadn’t responded, only opting in for a stare before endo spoke up once again.

“how about this? we’ll give you somethin’ that’ll take the edge off, alright?” he clasped his hands together before spinning on his heel to walk over to a counter where he snagged a bottle of vodka. “some old fashioned anesthesia.” endo smiled as he turned back around, walking back over to her where she laid.

she eyed the bottle with a look of hesitation on her face— it’s contents half full as the clear liquid sloshed around in the thick glass container. “yamato.. i don’t like to drink..”

“what?” he raised his brow as he twisted off the cap. “you know, you really shouldn’t mumble, sweetheart. i can’t hear a damn word you say.” but endo knew good and well that heard her as clear as day.

“n—nothing.. ‘m sorry. let’s do it..”

“no shot glasses or anything fancy like that but— i like doing it like this.” his hand finds its way to the crown of her head to tilt her head at an angle. he takes a swig of the vodka, holding it in his mouth for a moment before leaning in close to her and pressing his lips to her own. endo transfers the liquid in a slow controlled flow, the alcohol passing from one mouth to the other.

“mmf..!” the taste is awful and (name) told herself she’d never be able to get used to it but the warmth she was starting to feel a few seconds later seemed to help with her anxiety just a bit.

endo crouched down a bit to her level on piercing bed, an obnoxious smile on his lips as he watches on.

chika’s gloved hands aligned the needle, hovering just above the skin as the sharp tip gleamed under the light. his moment is skillfully controlled, fingers firm but gentle— the cold metal of the needle presses lightly against the flesh, the sensation a mix of cool steel and the warmth of skin contact. just before the needle penetrates, there’s a brief pause..

(name) let out a shriek as she felt the needle pierce through her flesh— the initial sensation was sharp, a pain unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. her toes curled and her hand flew to endo’s dark locks, involuntarily pulling his head back as her body started to writhe and lift at the pain. but it had been over as soon as it happened— chika’s fingers were nimble and worked quickly as he threaded the dainty jewelry through. the pain shifted into a dull ache and a sense of relief washed over her when chika spoke: “it’s finished.”

“fuck yeah— let’s see it.” endo said as he reached for the hand mirror sitting on the tray stand beside chika. (name) couldn’t help the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, a sniffle or two escaping from her lips.

there was slight throb where the jewelry laid as she sat up to look down at the mirror. the gem was her favorite color— she had to admit that it looked pretty good.

“she’s gonna be outta commission for a while, baby.” endo cooed at her. “you like?”

“yeah.. it’s cute.” she giggled breathlessly. “i did.. i did good, right?” (name) asked, her eyes screaming for approval.

“so good— let’s take a picture and show the guys, yeah?”

© all content belongs to worldume 2024. do not, translate, modify or repost to any other platforms.