#stylish lady pink

[prismstonearchives]

スタイリッシュレディピンク - Stylish Lady Pink

[starleska]

alright i know you guys have come to expect nothing but the highest calibre of incomprehensible character crushes from me but am i allowed a little crush on Velvette? bc she's really cute 😳👉👈

[mystic-sole]

The Best Wedge Heels for Different Foot Types

Introduction

Wedge heels are a staple in every woman’s wardrobe, offering the perfect blend of style, comfort, and versatility. Whether you're heading to a casual brunch or a formal event, the right pair of wedges can enhance your outfit while keeping your feet comfortable. However, not all wedge heels are designed the same, and choosing the perfect pair depends on your foot type.

Finding well-fitted wedges ensures both style and support, preventing discomfort and long-term foot issues. In this guide, we’ll explore the best wedge heels for different foot types, helping you make an informed choice for your next purchase.

Why Foot Type Matters in Choosing Wedge Heels

Every woman has a unique foot shape, which affects how a shoe fits and feels. Some common foot types include:

Wide Feet – Require extra room to prevent pinching and discomfort.

Narrow Feet – Need a snug fit to prevent slipping.

Flat Feet – Benefit from arch support to avoid strain.

High Arches – Require cushioning to reduce pressure on the ball of the foot.

Selecting wedge heels that cater to your foot shape can prevent common issues such as blisters, soreness, and instability.

For more insights on selecting the perfect wedge heels, check out The Ultimate Guide to Finding Your Perfect Wedge Heels.

Best Wedge Heels for Wide Feet

Women with wide feet often struggle to find heels that offer enough room without feeling too tight. The best wedge heels for wide feet include:

Open-Toe Wedges – Provide extra space, reducing pressure on the toes.

Adjustable Strap Wedges – Allow a customizable fit, preventing tightness.

Soft Leather or Suede Wedges – Stretch slightly to accommodate wider feet.

If you’re looking for a combination of elegance and comfort, Girls Wedge Heels are a great option. Their design ensures both style and flexibility, making them perfect for wide feet.

Best Wedge Heels for Narrow Feet

Narrow feet can cause heels to slip, making it difficult to walk confidently. The best wedge heels for narrow feet include:

Lace-Up Wedges – Offer a snug fit by allowing you to tighten the straps.

Pointed-Toe Wedges – Create a sleek, structured fit that secures the foot.

Elastic Strap Wedges – Help keep the foot in place without causing discomfort.

Choosing wedges with a structured fit ensures better stability and prevents foot movement within the shoe.

Best Wedge Heels for Flat Feet

Flat feet need extra support to prevent strain on the arch and ankles. The best wedge heels for flat feet include:

Arch-Support Wedges – Offer built-in arch support to reduce discomfort.

Cushioned Insole Wedges – Help absorb shock while walking.

Wedges with a Slight Platform – Provide better weight distribution for comfort.

If you’re looking for fashionable yet supportive options, Ladies High Heel Sandals offer a variety of stylish choices with comfort in mind.

Best Wedge Heels for High Arches

Women with high arches need shoes that offer proper cushioning to prevent excessive pressure on the ball of the foot. The best wedge heels for high arches include:

Memory Foam Wedges – Adapt to your foot shape, ensuring comfort.

Ankle-Strap Wedges – Provide extra stability and support.

Slightly Lower Wedges – Help reduce foot strain and pressure.

For a pop of color and elegance, Pink Wedge Heels are a great option that combines height with comfort.

Best Wedge Heels for All-Day Wear

For those who need a pair of wedge heels that can be worn throughout the day, consider the following options:

Rubber-Soled Wedges – Provide extra grip for better stability.

Breathable Material Wedges – Prevent excessive sweating during summer.

Block-Style Wedges – Offer a broader base, reducing foot fatigue.

If you prefer a classic and sophisticated look, White Wedge Heels are perfect for a variety of occasions, from office wear to summer outings.

Choosing the Right Heel Height for Your Foot Type

Heel height plays a major role in comfort and wearability. Here’s how to choose the best heel height for your needs:

Low Wedge Heels (1-2 inches) – Ideal for daily wear and maximum comfort.

Medium Wedge Heels (2-3 inches) – Offer a balance between height and stability.

High Wedge Heels (4 inches and above) – Best for special occasions and confident walkers.

If you love bold fashion statements, 4 Inch Wedge Heels can elevate your outfit while maintaining the stability that wedges are known for.

How to Find the Perfect Wedge Heel for Your Needs

When shopping for wedge heels, consider the following tips:

✔ Measure Your Feet – Ensure you get the right size for maximum comfort. ✔ Try Different Materials – Leather, suede, and fabric wedges all provide different levels of flexibility and support. ✔ Opt for Adjustable Straps – These help customize the fit for different foot types. ✔ Check the Sole Grip – A textured sole provides better traction, preventing slips.

Final Thoughts: Wedge Heels for Every Foot Type

Wedge heels are not just about fashion—they are about comfort and practicality too. By selecting the right wedge heels for your foot type, you can enjoy both elegance and ease.

Whether you have wide feet, high arches, or need a pair for all-day wear, there’s a perfect wedge heel waiting for you. Investing in high-quality, well-designed wedges ensures long-lasting comfort and style.

Explore a variety of options and find your perfect fit today! Stylish Heel Shoes For Women come in many designs, making it easy to find one that suits your needs.

Why Mystic Sole

Mystic Sole is dedicated to crafting high-quality, stylish footwear for modern women. Our collection includes a wide range of wedge heels designed to offer both fashion and comfort. Whether you need heels for everyday wear or special occasions, Mystic Sole has the perfect pair for you. Browse our latest collection and step into style with Mystic Sole today!

[luckyroll3]

Quid Pro Quo: Chapter 1

Masterlist and Summary

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, some violence, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 9,558

You sit at your usual table in the bustling student center, absentmindedly twirling a pen as you wait for your new tutee to arrive. You glance at your watch for the third time in as many minutes. You look back over to your floormates Jess and Sam sitting across from you. 

"Did you hear about Sarah hooking up with Matt at the party on Friday?" Jess leans in conspiratorially, her voice a dramatic whisper. "Apparently they were all over each other on the dance floor."

Sam rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Knowing Matt, he probably sweet-talked her with some cheesy pickup lines. That boy is shameless."

You chuckle at their antics, enjoying the lighthearted gossip session. Jess launches into another scandalous tale about someone called Josh from the Business School.

"I'm telling you, he's slept with half the cheerleading team already," Jess whispers conspiratorially, her eyes wide with gossip. "Lisa said he's got some special move that drives the girls wild."

You roll your eyes, suppressing a grin. "And I'm sure Lisa has firsthand experience, right?"

"Well, no, but—" 

"Don't encourage her," Sam interjects with a knowing smirk. "You know how Jess loves to embellish."

The three of you dissolve into giggles, the easy banter a welcome distraction from your waiting. The person you were supposed to be tutoring was already 5 minutes late. 

Suddenly, a smooth voice cuts through your laughter. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my tutor. Any chance you lovely ladies can point me in the right direction?”

You look up, the words dying on your lips as you take in the sight before you. Tousled bleached blonde hair frames a face that belongs on a magazine cover, complete with deep dimples, a broad nose, thick pink lips, and warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners. The casual jeans and black hoodie hug his athletic frame in all the right places. You’ve seen him around campus and at parties – he’s kind of hard to miss – but you’ve never actually spoken to him before. He holds his phone out to you, and points at a name. Your name.  

"That’s me," you say, clearing your throat. "I'm your tutor. You must be Chan?"

You notice Jess and Sam exchanging meaningful glances, eyebrows raised. They clearly recognize him too and must have gossip about him like they do about everyone. Interesting.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he takes you in, a slow dimpled grin spreading across his face. He clearly had not envisioned someone who looked like you. "Wow, I wasn't expecting... I mean, you're not exactly what I pictured when they said, 'best math tutor on campus.'" 

Funny how the men always seemed to be caught off guard. And you're never sure whether to be flattered or offended. "And what exactly did you picture?" You propped your fist up under your chin.

Chan's grin widens, revealing perfect white teeth. "Honestly? Some nerdy chick with thick glasses, a pocket protector, and maybe corrective shoes." He shrugs as he pulls the chair out and sits next to you. “And certainly not stylish.” His eyes take in your pink crop top and dark gray wide legged jeans that hugged your hips.

You can't help but laugh. "Sorry to disappoint. My pocket protector’s in the wash. I’ll be sure to have it with me next time if that makes you feel more comfortable." Chan smirks at your joke, his eyes never leaving yours. “This is Jess and Sam,” you say, pointing towards your friends. 

“Hey Jess and Sam,” he says, flashing them his smile before turning back to you.

“Hi Chan. Uh, we should get going,” Sam says hastily. “We were just keeping her company while she waited…” She and Jess hurriedly gather their things. 

“Have fun studying,” Jess calls over her shoulder as they scurry off, leaving you alone with the blonde bombshell.  

You watch your friends as they walk away, whispering between the two of them as they continue to glance back at Chan. Turning back to him, you clear your throat. "So, shall we get started?"

Chan's cocky demeanor falters slightly as he lets out a frustrated sigh. "I have to admit, I’m really struggling in differential equations. I kind of bombed my first exam. Like, spectacularly. I’ve never failed anything before. I’ve never even gotten below an A- in any of my courses! My professor suggested I get some extra help."

You nod understandingly. "That's why I'm here," you reassure him. “Let me give you a quick rundown of how I tutor and my rates, then we can dive in."

For the next hour, you pour over Chan's exam, dissecting each problem he got wrong. Your passion for the subject shines through as you enthusiastically explain the underlying concepts, using real-world examples to make the material come alive.

To your pleasant surprise, Chan listens attentively, absorbing your words. As Chan explains his frustrations with the material, you find yourself impressed by his intelligence despite this particular academic setback. He asks thoughtful questions, determined to grasp the ideas fully. His brow furrows adorably as he works through a particularly tricky concept. He seems to genuinely care about improving his understanding. Plus, the intense focus in his captivating brown eyes is rather attractive.

"Okay, let's break this down step by step," you say, leaning in closer to guide him through one of the problems. The subtle scent of his cologne teases your senses, and you silently chastise yourself for noticing. 

Over the next hour, you lose yourself in the elegant dance of numbers and variables, your voice growing more animated as you explain the intricacies of differential equations. Chan proves to be an attentive student, his initial bravado melting away to reveal genuine curiosity and a quick mind.

But your session is interrupted several times. A perky brunette approaches your table, her eyes fixed on your tutee. "Hey Chan," she coos, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I didn't know you studied here."

Chan's demeanor shifts instantly, his smile widening as he leans back in his chair. "Only when I have a beautiful tutor," he says with a wink in your direction.

You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, especially not in differential equations, sir," you quip as you tap your pencil on his textbook, earning a laugh from Chan.

Twenty minutes later, two more girls stop by, batting their eyelashes at him. You observe with amusement as he effortlessly juggles their attention, his charm cranked up to a thousand.

"Ladies, ladies," he says after a few minutes, "As much as I’d love to continue our chat, I'm in the middle of a very important tutoring session."

You snort. "Oh, now it's important?"

Chan grins at you, his eyes twinkling. "Always has been. How else will I impress you with my mathematical prowess?"

As the girls reluctantly drift away, you can't help but admire Chan's ability to navigate social situations with such ease. It's like watching a performance, and despite yourself, you're entertained.

"Wow," he says as he finishes working through a complex problem at the end of the session. "You really know your stuff. I think I actually understand some of this now."

You flash Chan a warm smile as you gather up your notes. "That's great! I'm glad I could help. If we keep meeting regularly and you keep putting in the same effort you showed today, we'll have you acing these exams in no time."

Chan leans back in his chair, giving you a smoldering look. "With a tutor as brilliant and stunning as you, how could I not be motivated to give it my all?"

He winks flirtatiously and you can't help but chuckle. Throughout the session, you noticed how Chan turned on the charm anytime a cute girl walked by your table, making them blush and giggle. But you see right through his player persona.

"You should save your cheesy pick-up lines for the girls over there eyeing you," you tease, nodding your head towards a group of freshmen near the cafe counter who keep glancing your way and whispering. "I don't mix business with pleasure."

"Pity," Chan sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "And here I thought my devilish good looks and witty remarks were winning you over."

"Keep dreaming, Casanova." 

“Unlike Casanova, I’m 100% clean. I get tested monthly,” he says, cocking his head to the side with a sly smirk. “Hey! Did you call my pick-up lines ‘cheesy’??” he asks, in mock offense, followed by a smile. “That’s certainly a first.”

“Yup!” You roll your eyes playfully as you slide the textbook back into your bag. "I will say, when you weren’t distracted by ass and tits, you were a very attentive student today. Here’s what you owe me.” You hand him the invoice.

Chan's eyebrows raise as he examines the total. “Ouch,” he says, but he pulls out his wallet without complaint. "But I'd say you're worth every penny... and more," he adds suggestively. 

You simply shake your head in amusement as you accept his payment, immune to his flirtations after years of dealing with cocky jocks, handsy frat brothers, and other self-assured fuck boys who became humbled when they needed your help to pass math and physics. Still, you have to admit there's something magnetic about Chan's presence, a spark of intelligence and humor beneath that bad boy exterior that intrigues you. And damn, he is cute. The problem is he knows it.

"Seriously though, thanks for being so patient with me. Same time next week?" he asks, flashing that dimpled smile that you're sure has broken countless hearts.

Shouldering your backpack, you give him one last appraising look. "Yup. Don't forget to do the practice problems I assigned."

"As you wish." He grins roguishly. "I await our next meeting with bated breath."

You laugh again, before turning and walking away, very aware of Chan's eyes following your every step. This is going to be an interesting semester, you think to yourself as you head to your next class. 

Later that evening, you're sprawled on your bed in your dorm room. Jess sits in your desk chair and Sam is on the floor eating chips. The two of them rehash the day’s events. The conversation soon turns to your new tutee. 

“I can’t believe you’re tutoring THE Bang Chan,” Jess says incredulously, pausing in the middle of painting her toenails a vivid red. 

“Do they really call him that? Bang Chan?” you ask curiously. You know his full name is Chan Bahng. 

Sam jumps in. “Yes, Bang Chan. As in the notorious fuck boy who’s probably slept with two-thirds of the girls on campus. 

The room erupts into giggles and excited chatter. "Oh honey," Jess says with a grin. "Everyone knows Bang Chan. He's only the biggest player on campus!"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Really? I mean, I noticed he was flirty, but—"

"Flirty?" Sam snorts as she sets down her bag of Ruffles, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Girl, you have no idea. That boy is trouble, with a capital T. Fuck, all the letters are screaming at you! He’s broken more hearts than I've had hot dinners. They call him the 'One Night Stand King'. He never hooks up with someone more than once."

“You would know this if you didn’t spend all your time in the physics building or with your boyfriend at the Phi Theta Nu house,” Jess says as she points the nail polish brush in your direction. 

“That’s why I hang out with you bitches! So you can catch me up on all the campus drama and gossip I miss.” Jess and Sam laugh at you. 

As your friends launch into increasingly outrageous stories about Chan's exploits, you feel a strange mix of fascination and disbelief. Could the attentive student you tutored really be the same person they're describing?

“I heard he slept with three of the sorors from KEK in one week, and not one of them knew about the others!” Sam continues. “And they all lived on the same floor!"

"Oh, and get this," Jess leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper as if the three of you weren’t alone. "I heard from my friend who fucked him freshman year that he's absolutely mind-blowing in bed. Like, earth-shattering good." She tightens the cap on the nail polish bottle and sets it on the desk. 

Sam nodded her head vigorously as she popped another chip into her mouth. “I’ve heard that too. That he works hard to get each girl off. That’s a miracle in and of itself, given how awful and selfish most of these guys are when it comes to our pleasure.”

"That part! And apparently, he has a magical tongue, if you know what I mean," Jess adds with a salacious wink.

The three of you devolve into loud laughter. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed Chan’s devilish smile and the sinful way he bit his plush lower lip. You're about to ask for more details when a knock at the door interrupts the gossip session. The scent of yummy food wafts in as your boyfriend Changbin enters, bags of takeout in hand. His handsome face breaks into a sweet smile at the sight of you.

"Hey babe," he greets, pecking you on the lips before holding up the food. "I brought dinner.” Changbin's eyes sweep over the room, taking in your friends and the remnants of your gossip session. “I didn’t realize you two would still be here, but there’s enough for everyone," he offers.

“Best boyfriend ever,” you declare as you move to help him with the food. 

"Mind if I join the party?"

Your friends eagerly accept, and soon you're all sprawled across the floor, plates balanced on laps as the conversation flows. The aroma of spicy chicken and savory noodles fills the air, mingling with laughter and playful banter.

After a few minutes of catching up, Changbin raises an eyebrow. "So, what were you all talking about before I got here? I could hear you laughing down the hall!"

Sam giggles, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Oh, we were just filling her in on Bang Chan's reputation."

Changbin's expression shifts, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Chan? I know him. We play soccer together sometimes in the pickup games on Saturdays."

You lean in, curious. "Really? What do you think of him?"

Changbin shrugs, his muscular shoulders rolling beneath his fitted shirt. "He's actually a pretty nice guy. Killer on the field, but always fair. I’ve also heard from a couple of my frat bothers who are also engineering majors that he’s really fucking smart. Why? What have you ladies heard?" Changbin turns his attention to Sam and Jess, fully aware of their gossip queen reputations.

As your friends launch into a recap of Chan's notorious exploits, you find yourself torn between their salacious stories and your own experience. "He was my tutoring student today," you interject. "And yeah, he was flirty, but he was also polite and seemed genuinely interested in learning. I could tell he was also very intelligent."

Changbin nods, a thoughtful look on his face. "That tracks. He's got quite the reputation, but I've never seen him be disrespectful or mean. Just... very popular with the ladies." He ticks his head to the side and smirks before shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth. 

“Does it make him a bad guy that he likes fucking around?” you ask sincerely. “He’s apparently single; from what you all have shared he offers nothing more than sex, then moves on. As long as he’s not tricking or forcing anyone, I don’t get why it’s a big deal.”

“True, true,” Sam agrees. 

Jess doesn’t look too sure. “It’s probably more about the volume and that he also fucks friends,” she adds after thinking about your comment for a few seconds. 

Changbin doesn’t really care and just continues eating, grabbing an eggroll from your plate with a cute smirk. You make a face at him. “What,” he says after taking a bite. “You know you’re not gonna eat it.”

As the conversation shifts to other topics, you can't help but ponder the complexities of Chan's character. Your mind wanders, comparing him to Changbin, wondering about the different types of men and relationships that exist in this world, especially considering the whirlwind of rumors surrounding Chan. You push the thoughts aside, focusing on the moment at hand, but a small part of you remains curious about the enigma that is the ‘Bang Chan’.

Later, after your friends have left and your dorm room is quiet once more, you and Changbin settle onto your bed. His strong arms encircle you, pulling you close as you cuddle together. Having a single this semester means that the two of you get to spend a lot more alone time together. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, comforting and enticing all at once. You rest your head on his sturdy chest as his fingers trail gentle patterns along your back. 

"Can you believe it's almost our one-year anniversary?" Changbin muses, his deep voice vibrating beneath your cheek. "Time flies when you're with someone as amazing as you."

You tilt your head up to meet his warm gaze, your heart fluttering at the open affection shining in his eyes. "I feel the same way. Being with you has been the best part of this whole college experience."

Changbin's hand comes up to tenderly brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I want to make our anniversary special, baby. Is there anything in particular you want to do to celebrate?"

Nibbling your lower lip, you contemplate his question. In truth, all you really want is to spend uninterrupted quality time with the man you’ve been falling for over the past 10 months. No distractions, no studying, no gossip about cocky fuck boys with sinful smirks...

Just you and Changbin, savoring each other's presence, and maybe… something more.

You snuggle closer, relishing the feel of him. "Just spending time with you is enough," you reply softly. “I don’t need anything fancy. I just honestly want to disconnect from everything and everyone but you.” 

Changbin's pink lips curve into a soft smile. "That sounds perfect.”

He leans in, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as you melt into him, relishing the gentle pressure of his lips on yours. It's chaste and sweet, just like most of the kisses you've shared over the past year.

And yet...

A tiny, secret part of you can't help but yearn for more. To feel the heat of desire, the intensity of passion, the urgency of wandering hands and fervent kisses. Your thoughts stray to the erotic stories your friends shared earlier, of Chan's alleged prowess in the bedroom....

Mentally chastising yourself, you force those illicit musings away, focusing instead on the warm solidity of your boyfriend's frame against yours. Changbin is perfect – caring, respectful, patient. He deserves your full attention and devotion.

As his fingers continue to trace lazy patterns along your spine, a shiver runs through you. You can't help but wonder if Changbin wants more from your relationship. Over the past year, your physical intimacy has been limited to these chaste kisses and some gentle petting, and you're acutely aware of how accommodating he's been to your general lack of interest in intimacy, despite having sex with his previous partners. A perfect gentleman.

Gathering your courage, you tilt your head back up to meet his gaze again. "Binnie... do you want more from our relationship?"

His dark eyes soften as he looks at you, a mix of tenderness and desire in their depths. "I only want what you want," he says sincerely. "My priority is making sure you're happy and feel safe. We can take things at whatever pace you're comfortable with. There’s no need to rush anything."

“Okay,” you whisper.

His words fill you with a comforting warmth, like slipping into a hot bath on a cold night. In that moment, you make a decision, one that feels both monumental and inevitable. Silently, you promise yourself that for your anniversary in two months, you'll take things to the next level with Changbin. He deserves it, and if you're honest with yourself, you want it, or rather him, too. You want his touch, his closeness, the deeper connection that comes with truly giving yourselves to one another emotionally and physically.

No more holding back, you tell yourself. You have just over two months to prepare, to get comfortable with the idea. As a sign of this new commitment to yourself and your relationship, you gently slide Changbin’s hands from your lower back to your ass. The movement is slow and deliberate. “That’s better,” you whisper. Your breath catches in your throat as you wait for his reaction.

Changbin lets out a low, appreciative chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your body. He squeezes gently, testing the waters, and you feel a spark of arousal shoot through you. His lips find your neck, and he begins to pepper it with light, teasing kisses, each one sending a tingling wave of sensation down your spine.

You close your eyes, savoring the moment, the feel of his strong hands and warm lips. This is what you want. To be closer to him, to experience the physical side of your feelings for him. As you lay there in his arms, your mind drifts to thoughts of what that next level might entail. You try to imagine what it will be like when you finally cross that line: the heat of his skin against yours, the weight of his body, the mingling of your breaths. It’s a tantalizing thought, and a mix of excitement and nervousness flutters in your stomach.

****

The library hums with quiet activity as you settle into a table towards the back. You’re looking forward to seeing Chan again. Despite his reputation, you enjoyed talking to Chan, and he was a fun and attentive student last time. Maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye. 

Speaking of the “fuck boy” in question, you see Chan approaching, his blonde hair slightly tousled and a grin playing on his lips as he struts towards the table like he owns the place. Which, let’s be honest, he might as well. Every woman in the building, young and old, cast him longing glances as he passes by, but his eyes are only on you. 

“Hey tutor,” he drawls, flashing that alluring grin, “ready to help a desperate man?” As he slides into the seat across from you, you catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's oddly enticing. “Oh, and before you say it, I know I’m irresistible. I just can’t help it.”

"Hello, Chan," you say, feigning exasperation, but you can't help the little upturn of your lips. "I'll help you, but only if you promise to behave yourself."

"Scout's honor," he says, holding three fingers up playfully. 

"Heh, good. Ready to tackle some more concepts?"

Chan's eyes light up with a mix of enthusiasm and mischief. "Absolutely. I've been practicing, you know. Might even impress you today."

You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Oh really? Let's see what you've got, blondie."

As you dive into the session, you're pleasantly surprised by Chan's progress. He's quick to grasp concepts that stumped him before, and you find yourself laughing at his clever quips between problem sets.

The next two hours fly by in a flurry of notes, examples, and Chan's near-constant, yet surprisingly endearing, banter. He's actually put in the effort and it’s clear he’s been studying.

"See? Told you I'd impress you," he says with a wink as you wrap up.

You roll your eyes but can't suppress a grin. "Alright, alright. Don't let it go to your head."

As Chan reaches for his wallet, his expression shifts, turning serious for once. "Hey, um... about the payment," he starts, his usual confidence faltering, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features. He hands over the bills in his hand. "I hate to ask this, but... is there any chance I could get a discount?” An uncharacteristic blush creeps up his cheeks.

"Chan, if you can't pay today, it's fine," you assure him, offering the cash back. "We can work something out; you can get it to me next week. We also don’t have to do two hours every time."

He shakes his head. “No, that’s yours. You earned it.” He meets your gaze. “I… I can’t pay for any more sessions at this rate after our next session.” Chan runs a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed. "Yeah, it's just... I'm here on scholarship, you know? Most of what I make from my campus job goes back home to help my family. I totally get it if you can't give me a discount, though." 

His admission catches you off guard; you’re surprised by this sudden vulnerability. So, the infamous "fuck boy" may have a heart after all.

As he speaks, you notice how he's trying to maintain his cocky demeanor, but there's a genuine worry in his eyes that tugs at your heart. Suddenly, an idea strikes you – one that makes your pulse quicken with both nervousness and excitement.

"Actually," you begin, your voice lowering conspiratorially, "I might have a proposition for you." You pause, thinking about the best way to phrase your question. "But first, I have to ask... what's the deal with your reputation as the campus 'fuck boy'? I heard they call you ‘Bang Chan’?"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting this turn in the conversation. Then he lets out a laugh, his dimples deepening. "Wow, straight to the point, huh? I like that." He leans back in his chair, a glint in his eye. "Well, I won't deny it. The rumors are true. I am, for lack of a better term, a fuck boy.”

"And you're okay with that label?" you press, genuinely curious.

He shrugs, still smiling. "Look, I don't think there's anything wrong with it as long as I'm upfront about my intentions. No false promises, no declarations of relationships or love, no repeat customers, no broken hearts – just fun between consenting adults. I’ve never seen the point in stringing women along or pursuing those who aren’t interested when there are so many who are willing to hook up with no attachments if you just come right out and ask."

As he speaks, you feel a mix of admiration for his honesty and a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. 

“I like how practical you are about it. And you’re right. Despite what society tries to tell us, women’s sexual drives are just as high, if not higher than most men’s.” He nods in agreement, clearly impressed with your non judgemental take. You take a deep breath, preparing to make your unconventional offer. You lean in towards him. “How about we… negotiate?”

His interest piqued, Chan leans in too. "I'm listening."

You lower your voice. "Okay, here's my proposition. I'll waive your tutoring fees for the rest of the semester if..." You pause, your heart racing. "If you agree to teach me about… intimacy."

Chan's eyes widen, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a moment. "Wait, what?" He searches your face, as if trying to determine if you're joking. You’ve shocked him for the second time in less than 5 minutes. 

"Well, here's the thing," you say, biting your lower lip. "I need to... gain some... experience."

Realization dawns on Chan's face, and a sly grin spreads across his lips. “Really?!? Not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that!”

"I'm serious," you say, surprised by how taken aback he seems by your request. "I want to take things to the next level with my boyfriend, but I have zero experience. Who better to learn from than the campus expert?"

Silence settles between the two of you. Chan runs a hand through his tousled blonde hair, his expression a mix of surprise and interest. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is... unexpected," he says finally. "But I’m intrigued. Give me a minute to think about this."

As he considers, you find yourself holding your breath. You anxiously twirl your pencil as your mind races with thoughts of Changbin, of your upcoming anniversary, of the potential benefits and consequences of this deal. You turn your focus back out externally to notice Chan's eyes roaming over your body. He just smirks when you catch him.

After what feels like an eternity, Chan leans forward, his brown eyes locking with yours. "Alright, I'm in. But we need to set some strict terms."

You nod eagerly. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"

"First," he begins, his tone suddenly businesslike, "this is purely transactional. No catching feelings, no strings attached. I’m assuming you’re a virgin?” 

“Yes,” you say, unashamed. “Will that be a problem?” 

He sighs. “I usually don’t fuck virgins because they tend to get…”

“Clingy?” You finish for him. 

“Yes. They tend to get clingy. If either of us starts developing feelings, we end it immediately. Agreed?" And by ‘either of us’, you assume he means you and your clingy virginity. 

"Agreed," you say without hesitation. "I have no interest in complicating things. This is just about learning. No clinginess, no drama. It’s simply not my style. I’m coming at this from a completely practical perspective. Just mutual… assistance."

Chan nods approvingly. "Good. So, in exchange for diff eq tutoring, I'll teach you about sex – from kissing to... well, everything I guess." He smirks, his confidence returning. "That means we’ll spend time alone together, and we’ll have to touch and other things, building our way up to fucking, if that works for you."

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, but you maintain eye contact, determined to convince him that it’s not a big deal. Because it’s not in your mind. Simply a quid pro quo – your services for his. You talk about sex all the time; you’re just not having it and it’s finally time to rectify that. "Understood. You get what you need from me to pass your class and I get what I need from you to confidently seduce my boyfriend. Shake on it?"

Chan extends his hand, and you take it, feeling a small thrill at the contact. "Deal," he says, his signature charming smile returning. "Now, let's figure out our schedules. One diff eq session and one... ‘intimacy’ session per week?" You nod.

As you pull out your phone to compare calendars, you can't help but wonder what you've just gotten yourself into. But the thought of surprising Changbin on your anniversary pushes any doubts aside.

****

The following week, you meet Chan at the house he shares with 3 other guys to continue your tutoring.  

You stand on the porch, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before knocking on the door.

Chan answers almost immediately. The door swings open, revealing him in a fitted black t-shirt and jeans that hug his muscular thighs. His blonde hair is slightly damp, as if he just showered. The scent of his soap, a minty eucalyptus smell, washes over you.

"Hey tutor," he greets with that signature dimpled grin. "Come on in."

You follow him inside, taking in the typical college guy decor – mismatched furniture, video game systems, posters. But you can’t help but notice how tidy the place is; everything is surprisingly clean and organized. It’s the opposite of what you’d expect in a place where 4 college-aged boys live. 

“Who’s your housekeeper,” you ask. 

"Impressed?" Chan asks, noticing your wandering gaze. "It’s me. My roommates are fucking slobs, but I think after a year, I’m finally rubbing off on them," Chan explains as he leads you to the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a Mr. Clean.”

“There were no housekeepers in my neighborhood. We all had to chip in at my house.”

“Same in mine,” you say as you take a seat at the kitchen table. “My friends all had housekeepers, but my parents didn’t believe in that shit. They both grew up poor and didn’t want my brother and me to think that having money meant other people did basic stuff for us. We washed dishes, we did our own laundry, we did lawn maintenance…”

“Damn, even we didn’t have to mow the lawn!” Chan laughed. “But that’s cool of your parents to keep you guys humble.”

The two of you dive into the session, reviewing his notes from this week. You're pleasantly surprised by how quickly Chan grasps the new concepts you introduce. His face scrunches adorably in concentration as he tackles each question, only occasionally glancing up to catch your approving nods. 

After returning from the bathroom, you lean over Chan's shoulder, pointing out an error in his calculations. "See here? You forgot to apply the chain rule."

Chan's brow furrows as he studies the problem. "Ah, I see it now, shit! Thanks.”

As you explain the correct approach, you're acutely aware of his proximity. You retake your seat and continue to watch him erase and scribble as he works out the problem.

"You've really been practicing," you comment, unable to keep the surprise from your voice.

Chan looks up, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Well, I've got a pretty great tutor motivating me," he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes playfully. "I told you, flattery will get you nowhere, mister."

"Oh really?" Chan leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Because it usually gets me everywhere." He smirks. 

"Alright, alright.” You flip a few pages in the textbook. “Try this next one on your own," you say, sliding the textbook towards him and pointing out a particularly tricky problem.

As Chan works through the equation, you can't help but notice the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, or how his tongue darts out to wet his lips when he’s in deep concentration.

"Okay, I think I've got it," Chan says triumphantly after solving it. He looks up at you, his brown eyes sparkling, as he slides his notebook in front of you. You review it, nodding. 

“Nice work.”

“You’re impressed?” He leans back, placing his hands behind his head and quickly arching his eyebrows several times.

You can't help but smile. "I am. You've clearly been putting in the work." You hand him back his notebook and close the textbook. “Let’s call it.”

As you wrap up the math portion of your meeting, a nervous energy settles between you. Chan clears his throat, his cocky demeanor faltering slightly.

"So... I guess it's time for your lesson now?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

You nod, your heart rate picking up. "I guess so."

Chan stands, looking at his watch. "Let's move somewhere more comfortable. Plus, I think a couple of my roommates will be home soon."

He leads you to his bedroom and motions for you to place your things on his desk. 

You stand awkwardly, your heart pounding. Chan leans against the wall, his brown eyes studying you intently.

"Don't look so nervous. I don’t bite... unless you ask me to.” His lips curve into a mischievous smile, causing you to shake your head at his ridiculousness. “We'll start slow." He walks over to stand directly in front of you. "So," he says, breaking the tension. "Show me how you usually kiss. Don't overthink it."

You take a deep breath and step closer, Chan's scent filling your senses. You place your hands on his shoulders and press your lips against his, holding them there for a few seconds before pulling away.

Chan's dimples appear as he smiles warmly. "That was... gentle. Sweet, even. But let's work on technique."

You feel your cheeks burn. "That bad, huh?"

He chuckles. "Not bad, just inexperienced. Here, let me show you."

Chan cups your face with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheek. "First, create anticipation," he murmurs. His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. You find yourself holding your breath. “Start exactly how you did before, soft and gentle, but then let it develop into something deeper by opening your mouth slightly, using your tongue to slightly tease, and when they part their mouth in response, slip your tongue in and massage theirs. Like this.”

As his lips meet yours, they are soft and gentle, yet determined. He moves slowly, deliberately, guiding your mouth to part slightly and tilting your head for a better angle. Your body instinctively leans into him, craving more. You feel the gentle probing of his tongue against your lips, and you respond by eagerly accepting it. His tongue explores every nook and cranny of your mouth, and you press yours back against his.

Changbin has kissed you like this before, but never for long. He never wants to seem like he’s pressuring you to do anything. But the way Chan is kissing you is so sensual, yet intense, you actually feel like your knees might buckle. You can see why all the girls on campus are so taken by him. 

After a moment, he pulls back. "See the difference?" 

You nod with your eyes closed, a bit dazed. "Definitely." He laughs at your response.

"Now you try," Chan instructs. "Remember, it's about connection, not just pressing lips together."

As you lean in again, you think, I can do this. It's just practice, like math. But when your lips meet his this time, it feels anything but clinical. You replicate what he just showed you. At the same time, you feel him clasp your hands, which are hanging lifelessly at your sides, and bring them behind his neck. You interlace your fingers in the new position. After a few moments, you pull your lips away. 

“Good. And remember to touch him. Rub his back, grab his ass, and if your hands are around his neck like they are now, run your fingers through the hair at the nape.”

You slip your fingers up into his hair, toying with the curls forming at the back of his neck. “Like this?”

“Just like that,” he whispers with a smile. “Now the functionality of this shifts with the position.” He retakes your hands in his and leads you to the bed. He sits and motions for you to get on him. His hands settle on your hips. “If you’re straddling your partner, it’s similar to standing. Wrap your arms and legs around me and go again.”

You bring your lips back to his. The kiss quickly deepens, and you sigh lightly when you feel Chan’s hands slide to your lower back, continuing on to your ass. Chan smiles against your lips at your reaction, which causes you to laugh and break the kiss. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle. “You just caught me off guard.”

“That’s okay. Just get comfortable with it.” He squeezes your ass playfully. “Your boyfriend doesn’t grab your ass? It’s a great ass.” 

“He’s pretty respectful. If I told him to grab it, he would.” You lazily twirl your thumbs on the back of his neck. 

“Keep doing that. That feels good.” He leans back in to continue the kiss. After a few minutes he leans back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. “Don’t stop,” he whispers against your lips. And you don’t. He eventually rolls so that you’re both on your sides, facing each other. “You’re a quick learner,” he says when he finally allows you to come up for air. 

"Well, I've got a pretty great tutor motivating me," you smirk with a wink, mimicking his comment from earlier. 

“Ha! Well, you do! I am the best.” He readjusts both of you, pulling your body closer to his, and repositioning your top leg over his hip. “Now when you’re lying down, kissing can get uncomfortable. But if both of you are into it, it shouldn’t matter. And rolling around usually helps. Got it?”

“Got it.” You don’t wait for him to tell you to try again, you just dive in. His positive feedback has helped you grow your confidence in a short period of time, and you’ve surprised yourself by how comfortable you feel making out with him, when you’ve never really done it with anyone before. 

****

That weekend, you and Changbin sit in his car after a tasty dinner at your favorite Italian bistro. The restaurant's neon sign casts a soft glow through the windshield, illuminating Changbin's face as he leans toward you. His eyes, warm and inviting, flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. Your heart races with anticipation.

"I had a great time tonight," Changbin says softly, his hand reaching for yours.

You smile, gathering your courage. "Me too."

As he leans in for what he expects to be his usual gentle peck, you surprise him by cupping his face with both hands. You hold him in place, tilting your head slightly as you deepen the kiss. Your tongue traces his lower lip before easing into his mouth.

Changbin makes a small sound of surprise, then leans into the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck. The console between you digs into your ribs, but you barely notice, lost in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

When you finally pull away, both slightly breathless, Changbin's eyes are wide with pleasant surprise. "Wow," he breathes. "That was... unexpected. But amazing."

You can't help but grin, a mixture of pride and excitement coursing through you. "I've been practicing," you admit, then quickly add, "In my head, I mean. Imagining. And watching porn." You grin.

Changbin chuckles, his thumb caressing your cheek. "Well, your imagination is impressive. What else have you been imagining?" And after a beat he adds, “and what kind of porn???”

“Don’t you worry about that!” you laugh. “I don’t ask you about your porn, you don’t ask me about mine.” 

“Deal!” he says with a chuckle. “Cause some of my porn is pretty cringey!”

As he starts the car, you ask softy, "Hey, Changbin? Can you stay over tonight?"

He glances at you, his expression a mix of excitement and concern. "Are you sure? I thought you had to study."

"I'm sure," you nod, your heart pounding. "I can study tomorrow."

Changbin happily agrees, his face breaking into a wide grin. He’s slept over before, but usually, the two of you only cuddle. You want to do more tonight. 

After washing your face and changing into your PJs, you climb into bed with Changbin. He’s in his undershirt and boxers, his muscular arms and legs on display. He cuddles you like he’s done many times before. "So, what do you want to do?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You take a deep breath. "I want... I want more," you say hesitantly.

Changbin raises an eyebrow in surprise. "What kind of ‘more’?"

You blush, feeling suddenly shy about voicing your desires out loud. "I want... to... make out with you," you say in a small voice. 

"Okay then," Changbin whispers before leaning in to kiss you again.

This kiss is deeper than the one in the car, filled with unspoken promises and longing. His hands roam over your back as yours tangle in his hair, drawing him closer. His hands wander slowly down your back. You gently guide one of his hands to your ass and encourage him to squeeze, like you did the week prior. He’s hesitant at first, but then he grabs two handfuls of flesh, making you yelp.

“Sorry,” he whispers against your lips.

“It’s okay. I liked it,” you whisper back with a smile before you playfully nip at his lip. He laughs and resumes kissing you. One of his hands moves to cup your breast through your shirt, making you moan into his mouth. It feels so good. You pull him on top of you, and the two of you spend a few hours making out heavily.  

As you wake the next morning, your lips throb and tingle delightfully from last night's passionate kissing. You're surprised by how much you enjoy the slight discomfort, not realizing that your lips could get sore. But it makes sense, you rationalize in your head, since there must be muscles there that help them to move and pucker. 

While you eat lunch, you can't stop smiling at the memory of Changbin's happy face as he left your dorm room. His gentle kiss goodbye still lingers on your lips and in your heart. If this is what you’ve been missing out on with him, you can’t wait to explore more.

**** 

You can barely contain your excitement as you settle into your usual table in the student center for your next session with Chan. As soon as he arrives, flashing that signature dimpled smile, you blurt out, "It worked!"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he slides into the seat across from you. "Someone's in a good mood," he teases. "What worked?"

"The kissing techniques," you whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. "Let's just say my boyfriend was very impressed."

Chan's laugh is warm and genuine. "Look at you, becoming a master seductress already." He winks, then adds, "I did pretty well too. Aced my last quiz."

"That's fantastic!" You hold up your hand for a high five, which he enthusiastically returns. 

As Chan starts on his homework, you can't help but notice biting his lower lip again when he's thinking hard. It's... distractingly cute.

The rest of the session flies by, the two of you falling into your easy rhythm of banter and problem-solving.

"So," Chan says, as you're both packing up. "Ready for your next lesson?" His voice drops an octave.

You nod, trying not to appear too excited. "Where to, professor?"

Chan grins at the nickname. "Um… let’s go to the Sandbar. It’s still early, so it will be pretty quiet before happy hour starts. Perfect for... practical demonstrations. Plus, my roommate is the bartender, and he’ll hook us up."

At the bar, Chan introduces you to one of his roommates, Minho, who drops off a pitcher of beer and two chilled pint glasses to your booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner towards the back. 

As Minho walks back to the bar, Chan moves to your side of the booth and leans in close. "Foreplay," he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear, "is all about building anticipation. It starts long before you hit the bedroom. It's in the way you look at your partner, the casual touches."

"Show me," you whisper.

"The key," he whispers in your ear, his voice a sensual purr, "is taking your time.” Chan's fingers trail lightly along your arm, barely touching. "It's also about suggestion," he explains. "Hinting at what's to come." His hand moves to your neck, fingertips grazing your skin. "Teasing them until they're aching for your touch. How does that feel?"

"Tingly," you admit, your voice slightly breathless. "Like little electric shocks."

He nods approvingly. “Explore every inch of your partner's body, paying special attention to their erogenous zones. Graze, nuzzle, kiss."

His skilled fingers move to your lips, brushing lightly against them before trailing down your chin to your sternum. Your breath catches as his hand grazes the exposed skin of your cleavage, followed by his thumb circling your sensitive nipple through the fabric of your tank top, which immediately hardens by arousal.

He smiles approvingly. "Moans are your best friend," he huskily informs you, his lips grazing your earlobe. "They let your partner know what you like."

As if on cue, a low moan escapes your lips when he pinches your nipple, spurring him on. His mouth follows his hand’s path, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, over your sternum, and onto your cleavage, making your knees weak and pulling more sounds from you.

"See?" he murmurs against your skin, satisfaction lacing his voice. "Communication is key."

With that, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. His hands slip beneath your tank top, his fingers teasingly brushing against the heated skin of your belly, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

Over the next hour, Chan walks you through the finer points of foreplay – the art of the tease, the power of anticipation, the importance of paying attention to your partner's responses. He demonstrates each technique with a clinical detachment, but there's no denying the heat that simmers between you, the way your body responds to even his most innocent touches.

"Now, your turn. Show me what you've learned."

Emboldened by the beer coursing through your system and the heady rush of new knowledge, you slide closer to him. Taking a deep breath, you extend your hand towards him, feeling the heat emanating from his skin, letting your fingers dance along his forearm and trace his defined muscles. You lean in, nuzzling slightly against his neck, your lips barely brushing his skin as you whisper, "Like this?"

You feel rather than hear Chan's sharp intake of breath. His voice comes out husky when he responds, "Exactly like that." A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you hear the approval in his tone. 

You pepper a few soft kisses on his neck as your hands tickle the skin around the waistband of his jeans, causing him to sigh. "Fuuuck.” His head falls back against the seat. “You catch on quickly."

“Thanks,” you say giddily. As you pull back, you catch a glimpse of something in Chan's eyes – a flash of heat, quickly masked. It makes your heart race, and you wonder if you're getting in over your head.

The moment passes, and Chan rotates his head lazily to stare at you while he leans back in the seat, his signature dimpled smile returning. "Not bad for a beginner," he teases, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You laugh, feeling the tension dissipate as you clink your glass against his.

As the weekday happy hour crowd starts to arrive, your conversation drifts away from the intimate lesson and into more casual territory. You find yourself genuinely enjoying Chan's company, surprised by how easy it is to talk to him. As you talk and laugh together, you’re also surprised at how much you’re opening up to him.

"So, what made you decide to go into mechanical engineering?" you ask, sipping your drink. "Was it always your dream?"

Chan shrugs, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the tabletop. "Not exactly. My parents always pushed me to excel academically, I've always been good at math and science, and I like to build things. Engineering just seemed like the logical choice."

"But is it what you want?"

He's quiet for a moment, considering. "I don't know," he admits finally. "I mean, I'm good at it and I’m interested in designing roller coasters. But sometimes I wonder if there's more out there for me, you know?"

You nod, understanding completely. "I feel the same way about my major sometimes. Like I'm just going through the motions, doing what's expected of me."

"Exactly." Chan's eyes meet yours, a spark of connection passing between you. "It's like, is this all there is? Studying and working and just... existing?"

"Right. There has to be more to life than that," you agree. "Yeah, I want to work for NASA, but I also want to travel, to experience new things… to fall in love." The words slip out before you can stop them, hanging in the air between you.

Chan's gaze softens a bit. “NASA huh?” He smiles and you’re appreciative of him ignoring your last comment. 

“You want to make roller coasters, I want to study black holes.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool! I’ve also thought about building rockets and spaceships, but it felt too far-fetched.”

“Not at all. Tons of mechanical engineers are hired by NASA. But only if they pass Diff Eq,” you tease with a smirk. 

“Ha, ha,” he says sarcastically as he refills your beer. 

As the night wears on, you find yourself losing track of time, too caught up in the thrill of deep conversation, shared dreams, and this apparent friendship you and Chan are developing. Around you, the bar begins to fill with folks interested in cheap beer and discounted food. Clusters of college students talk and flirt and dance to the music spilling from the jukebox.

You become increasingly aware of the looks you and Chan are getting – curiosity, envy, speculative whispers. A group of girls at the bar, in particular, keep glancing over, giggling behind their hands. Chan seems oblivious, his attention focused solely on you.

"Does it ever bother you?" you ask him, nodding towards the onlookers.

He follows your gaze and chuckles. "The attention? Nah, I'm used to it. It’s a burden looking like this," he adds with a wink, followed by a deep laugh. You roll your eyes but can't help smiling. "Besides, it's not like any of what they’re thinking is true tonight."

After the two of you finish a third pitcher, the pressure in your bladder becomes impossible to ignore. "I’ll be right back," you say, tapping him on the shoulder to let you out. “Bathroom break.” You slide out of the booth. 

He nods, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "You’re breaking the seal, lady! So dangerous,” he says with a laugh. “But, hurry back. I’ll be lonely without you," he coos as he sits back down.

As you wait in line for the ladies' room, you can't help but notice the girls a couple spots ahead of you in line. They're eyeing you with blatant curiosity, whispering.

Finally, one of them turns to you with a bright smile. "Hey, are you here with Chan?" she asks across several people, her eyes wide. 

You blink, caught off guard. "Oh, um. Yeah, kind of.” You stammer. “I'm his tutor, actually."

The girls exchange knowing looks, giggling. "His tutor, huh? Is that what he's calling it these days?"

“No, really,” you say with a smile. “I’m tutoring him for his differential equations class.”

She raises an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "Really? You don’t look like a tutor.” She shifts from one leg to another as she sizes you up.

“And yet, I am. Physics major; top of my class.” You’re always slightly irritated that people assume you can’t be cute AND smart.

“That's amazing!" the other girl gushes. You’re not sure if she’s being facetious or channeling some girl power energy.  

You nod and give them a fake smile. 

They turn back to their conversation and a couple seconds later they walk into the bathroom. After 5 more minutes it’s finally your turn and your bladder is fucking thankful. 

As you head back to the booth, you spot Chan standing next to the bar chatting with one of the girls who had just spoken to you. His charm is on full display, dimpled smile flashing as he leans in close, leaning his ear towards her to hear her over the music. Her hand rests on his arm as she laughs at something he says.

You roll your eyes and snicker. You’ve been gone for less than 10 minutes and he’s already on the hunt. This is your signal that it’s time to go. You’ve already taken up a lot of his time tonight.  

You grab your bag and approach Chan at the bar. "Hey, Chan," you interrupt, "I'm heading out. Early class tomorrow."

Chan looks up at you in surprise, his brow furrowing, his smile faltering slightly. "What? Nooooo! Stay; have a couple more drinks," he pleads, those expressive brown eyes locking onto yours. He flashes you that charming, dimpled grin, the one that would make your knees melt if you were into him like that. 

You hesitate, tempted by his request since you were enjoying chatting with him. But then you catch the other girl's side-eye, clearly indicating that she wants him all to herself, and make up your mind. "No thanks,” you say with a smile. “I really do need to get some studying done. How much do I owe you for the pitchers?”

Chan opens his mouth as if to protest, but instead adds, “Don’t worry about. Min took care of it for us.”

“Cool,” you say nonchalantly. “Tell him I said thanks and I’ll see you at our session next week, okay?"

“Yeah, okay.” He watches you as you leave.

“Have fun,” you call out over your shoulder with a wink. 

“You too! And be careful not to give buddy a heart attack this weekend!” he replies with a chuckle before diving right back into his flirting.

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a little excited. You've learned so much tonight, and you can't wait to try it out with Changbin. The thought of his intense eyes softening as you put your new skills to use sends a shiver down your spine.

[insanityclause]

Much Ado About Nothing: A gloriously giddy staging – with dad dancing from Tom Hiddleston

Hiddleston and Hayley Atwell are a hoot, gamely surrendering to the spirit of Jamie Lloyd’s bonkers production – pink confetti and all

5/5

Dominic Cavendish, Chief Theatre Critic

This is more like it. After the wash-out of Jamie Lloyd’s production of The Tempest, botching the grand return of Shakespeare to the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, comes a bonkers but brilliantly inventive Much Ado that gives us (and Lloyd) something to smile about, providing a much-needed blast of fun and pop-saturated theatrical sun. Where Sigourney Weaver flopped as Prospero, Hayley Atwell and Tom Hiddleston have fans queuing for the stage door, not just because of their A-list allure (they’re Marvel names, both) but because they’re an assured hoot as Beatrice and Benedick.

True to form, Lloyd isn’t giving us a traditional re-tread of the Messina-set rom-com. There’s his standard use of headset mics to amplify the actors, and his customary stripping of the mise-en-scene to the barest essentials; in contrast to the deluxe auditorium, we see the vast, unadorned space.

But far from seeming cheerless, and déjà vu, the approach proves a fresh, unbounded joy. Freeing the action from studious naturalism, and ersatz social context, it’s a teasing provocation, with loud klaxon honks jolting us too. The boldest stroke (design: Soutra Gilmour) is a sustained shower of pink confetti. It’s faintly magical to behold, offsetting plastic chairs below; on another level, it chimes with the play’s tragicomic mix of autumnal wistfulness – these stand-offish rivals in wit are almost at last-chance saloon – and amorous adventure.

That suggests that Lloyd has the thoughtful measure of the work but rather than impose his vision to an inhibiting degree, he trusts his crack cast to deliver the loose-limbed interplay. There are gimmicks galore but there’s a knowingness to them that augments the feel-good energy and ensures that sincerity cuts through the image-conscious facades when it counts.

Atwell is at first sedentary and svelte in a brown jump-suit – a seen-it-all Beatrice, dispensing put-downs at the expense of Hiddleston’s smugly assured charmer, who arrives with fellow booty-shaking entourage to the riotous sound of the Beastie Boys’ Fight for Your Right (To Party!). Though stylish, too, in dark blue trousers and shirt, offset by a garish, glittery belt, he’s pure peacock, prone to thumbs-up gestures and conspiratorial winks (“I am loved of all ladies” is purred to the honey-voiced hilt).

Hiddleston’s game surrender to the carnivalesque spirit of the brisk night contributes to a rising, almost hysterical sense of OTT pleasure – we get cringe disco moves, attempted break-dancing, risible singing, even a flash of his six-pack. Hell, there’s also a modicum ado about a card-board cut-out of Loki (there’s a matching one of Atwell as Agent Carter too).

The gulling sequence is as funny as any I’ve seen, Hiddleston straining to hide himself in confetti, madly rolling upstage then getting submerged beneath a giant inflatable love-heart. That Atwell insinuates deep, dormant wounds at her own duping, and real pain at Hero’s nuptial jilting by the air-headed Claudio, attests to top-tier talent. Lloyd outrageously ditches the tricky Dogberry and co carry-on, truncating the second half, but by this point, and definitely come the moment B&B clinch for some smooching TLC, you’re too smitten to fret.

[mercillery]

Would you be opposed to writing for silly Kirschie? The Vermillion flower boy grew on me 🌸 (relationship overview?)

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: My life changed in 92722928 different ways when I found out he existed. Sorry this took so long, anon. ❤️‍🩹

From the moment he realizes he's in love with you, buckle up—you're about to be placed on a pedestal so high, even a magic knight would struggle to reach it. Kirsch isn’t just falling in love; he’s having a whole opera performed in his head about how you, the most divine being to ever exist, were handcrafted by angels of heaven themselves purely as a reward for him. It’s like he believes the heavens saw how gorgeous he was and decided, "You know what? Let’s give him someone who’s equally perfect." He’ll shower you with compliments so extravagant, even the word “flattery” would feel modest. It’s like living in a Shakespearean play where the soliloquies never stop—and they're all about how radiant you are.

And just when you think it’s impossible for him to love anything more than his own reflection, guess what? He proves you wrong. Sure, he’ll talk about his own beauty—it’s Kirsch, after all—but he’s just as obsessed with promoting your looks. In fact, he might be too busy singing your praises to even get through a sentence about himself. Think of it this way: if Kirsch is the president of his own fan club, you’re the vice president—except he’s trying to hand over the entire operation to you because in his eyes, you’re the real star.

Every little action you take is glorified like you’re performing on a royal stage, and Kirsch is your most dedicated and vocal audience member. You could be doing something as simple as picking a flower, and suddenly it’s as if you’re creating a masterpiece worthy of a gallery exhibit. Kirsch will dramatically place a hand over his heart, swooning, and launch into a full-on poetic monologue about how “only the most delicate hands could possibly pluck nature’s finest creation with such grace!” It’s like living with your own personal hype man who’s constantly stuck in an emotional art film.

You could be doing something very simple as tying your shoe, and he’d still manage to make it sound like you’re unraveling the mysteries of the universe with unparalleled elegance. “The way you loop those laces… such precision! Such finesse! I’ve never witnessed anything so perfectly executed.” It’s hard to ever feel mundane or average when Kirsch is around because, to him, you’re not just special—you’re a walking masterpiece of elegance and grace, even when you’re just, you know, pouring a glass of water.

Kirsch spares no expense when it comes to showering you with luxurious gifts—it’s basically his love language, except it’s less about words and more about drowning you in pink roses and glittering jewels. Expect hand-picked bouquets that look like they were arranged by angels themselves (or, more accurately, arranged to match his aesthetic), ornate jewelry that would make royalty jealous, and customized clothing that screams opulence. He’ll insist that only the finest silks and rarest gems should even dare touch your skin, and honestly, he’s not taking "no" for an answer. If you thought you could casually slip out of the house in a simple outfit to run errands, think again.

This man will have you looking like you’re about to walk the runway—even if you're just going to the corner store for some milk. It’s like living in that one meme: “Bye, I’m going to [insert mundane place here]!” and then the other person says, “Not dressed like that you aren’t young lady!” And then the other person who was leaving changes into way more stylish clothing, to which the other person says “Yesss queen slayyy!!” Like, that meme is your relationship in a nutshell—any time you leave the house, there’s a full-on wardrobe transformation sequence where Kirsch has you dazzling like the spotlight was meant just for you. If you don’t get the reference, I’ll leave the meme at the very bottom of this post lol.

Also, after Kirsch is done, it’s not just you stealing the spotlight—you’re taking the whole stage. You’re over there trying to buy groceries, and suddenly people are stopping mid-aisle, jaws dropping, as if you’re about to give an acceptance speech for “Best Dressed at the Supermarket.”

He’s quite literally the epitome of romanticism, the guy who watched one too many telenovelas and said, “Challenge accepted.” He’s like those super-dramatic, lovestruck characters you see in Spanish soap operas—the ones who stand in the rain delivering heartfelt speeches while violins play in the background—except, well… it’s Kirsch, and he’s probably not going to get his hair wet. But honestly? It’s so Kirsch to be that extra. One speech from him and you’re already a flustered, blushing mess. It’s like he’s got this magical power to turn even the most casual compliments into an event. “Your eyes, my love—they sparkle brighter than the heavens themselves!” Cue the swooning.

But oh, it doesn’t stop there. Kirsch is the guy who writes you long, poetic love letters that read like something from the Romantic Era—and we’re talking full-on sonnets. There’s probably at least one mention of you being the moon to his sun, the stars in his sky, or something equally dramatic. He’ll hand-deliver it to you with a flourish, as if he’s presenting you with the Holy Grail.

And if you think that’s over the top, just wait for the serenades. He’ll burst into a room or most likely a public space and then dramatically place a hand on his chest, and declare his love as if he’s performing for an audience. He’s got metaphors comparing your beauty to the brilliance of nature, the stars, the sun, and whatever else sounds poetic in the moment. Honestly, at this point, you might be wondering if Shakespeare himself reincarnated as Kirsch Vermillion just to write you flowery declarations of love. Actually, scratch that—Shakespeare has NOTHING on Kirsch. 🤞

Kirsch’s vanity is the stuff of legends—everyone knows it, and if you didn’t before, you will once you’re in a relationship with him. His confidence is so big, it practically has its own gravitational pull, and yes, it’s going to extend into your relationship in the most hilariously Kirsch-like ways. He’ll often look at you with that dazzling smile of his and say, “My love, how fortunate you are to be with someone as magnificent as me!” But don’t worry—he’s not just here to inflate his own ego. Oh no, Kirsch is very generous when it comes to dishing out compliments. He’ll stroke both your egos at once, like some kind of mutual admiration society where you’re the president, and he’s the very enthusiastic vice president…

Obviously his ego is absolutely massive, but as his partner, you’ll never feel left out. Kirsch will make sure you know that while he is obviously perfection, you’re right there with him at the top. “Together, we are the Clover Kingdom’s most beautiful couple,” he’ll say, with complete sincerity, as if it’s a universally accepted fact. He genuinely believes that when people see the two of you, they stop in awe, blinded by the sheer radiance of your combined beauty. If there ever was a "Most Beautiful Couple" contest in the Clover Kingdom, you’d better believe Kirsch is signing you both up and personally ensuring that you win first place. Just don’t be surprised if he asks you to practice your “winning couple’s wave” in front of a mirror—you know, for when you accept the award you’ve already won in his mind.

The only real downside I can think of when it comes to dating Kirsch is his self-obsession. I know I just said he’s great at praising both himself and you, but let’s be honest—his self-love can be a bit… much. It’s the kind of thing that could make anyone, even you, feel like you’re dating a walking, talking mirror. His obsession with his own beauty can be borderline unbearable at times, but that’s where you come in! As his partner, you’ve basically become a pro at balancing things out—playfully stroking his ego to keep him smiling, but also grounding him when he starts floating off into the stratosphere of his own vanity.

And surprisingly? Kirsch really values your opinion. Sure, he’s as arrogant as they come, but if you point out something he needs to work on, he’ll listen—though maybe with a reluctant sigh or two, and definitely after a couple of gentle nudges. It’s like he’s internally grappling with the idea that there’s even the slightest thing about him that could improve. But because it’s coming from you, he’ll eventually try to make an effort. Just don’t expect a miracle overnight—Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was Kirsch’s ego.

That being said, he’s always seeking your validation, constantly fishing for compliments like it’s his favorite hobby. You’ll often catch him asking, “Am I not the most handsome nobleman in the land?” And now, you have two options: humor him and bask in his beaming smile as he revels in your agreement, or find a playful way to respond while reminding him not to get too carried away. Maybe something like, “Yes, dear, but let’s not forget that modesty is also a virtue,” or “Of course you are, but you know, some of us are trying to look good too!” Either way, you’ve become the master at handling his vanity without letting it completely take over—keeping him in check while still letting him feel like the nobleman he so deeply believes he is. <3

Kirsch’s affection is like a hurricane of love—you’re constantly in the eye of the storm, surrounded by his attention, compliments, and a never-ending desire to be near you. He’ll find any excuse to touch you, whether it’s holding hands, brushing a strand of hair from your face, or simply sitting as close as humanly possible, just so you’re both basking in his glorious presence—oh, and yours too, of course. He’ll make sure you’re soaking in all the benefits of being with him, but not without returning the favor by idolizing you in the process. However, it can get a little intense, especially when Kirsch starts micromanaging your appearance in the name of "enhancing your perfection" or, even better, "shielding you from corruption," as if you’re about to be swayed by the forces of darkness just because one single piece of hair of yours is out of place. Yeah, he’s weird like that—but you love him anyway.

Sometimes, his overwhelming need to pamper you and monitor every little detail of your look can feel like you’re being smothered in pink velvet and rose petals—luxurious, but a little too much when all you wanted was a cozy shirt and pants kind of day. He’s that guy who will lovingly remind you that “a queen must always look the part,” even when all you’re doing is sitting on the couch for movie night. Sure, it’s Kirsch’s way of showing his love, but you may find yourself playfully wrestling the brush or mirror that he magically just spawned out of his hands every now and then.

If anyone even thinks about insulting or offending you, brace yourself—Kirsch’s attitude will switch faster than you can say “noble fury.” One minute he’s all smiles, the next, he’s making it his personal mission to obliterate whoever dared to sully your perfect image. And let’s be real, he’s not going to handle it quietly. Oh no, Kirsch will make sure everyone in a 10-mile radius knows just how deeply offended he is on your behalf. Expect a grand, dramatic scene that could rival any Clover Kingdom festival—he’ll probably stand up straight, flick his hair back, and give the most dramatic speech known to mankind.

Kirsch has no chill when it comes to defending your honor. It’s as if someone insulting you is the same as insulting him, and honestly, in his mind, it kind of is. You, his flawless partner, are an extension of his beauty, his life’s masterpiece, and if anyone dares to tarnish that image? Oh, they’re going to regret it. And I’m talking big time regret. He might throw in some lines about how they’ve dishonored the very concept of perfection, or that their words have caused irreparable damage to his delicate heart all the while clutching his chest like a damsel in distress. You’d think they insulted his reflection, not yours, with how over-the-top his reaction is.

In Kirsch’s eyes, an insult to you is an attack on everything—his pride, his love, his very existence. He’ll dramatically lament how this heinous act has affected his life in 927292179172 different ways, acting like this insult has personally struck him down. "How dare they! They have brought ruin upon us both!" And while, yes, the offense was aimed at you, it’s clear that the real victim here in Kirsch’s world, is him. Because anything that causes you distress ultimately causes him distress—and that simply cannot stand.

Kirsch has this innate drive to be the best, not just as a Magic Knight but also as your partner. He’s got a little scoreboard in his head, constantly comparing himself to others—even if they don’t know they’re in the competition—and always seeking your reassurance that he’s the best person for you. If he senses anyone might be trying to get your attention, even in the slightest, his competitive streak flares up like a wildfire.

But don’t expect Kirsch to get jealous in that quiet, brooding, “staring out the window dramatically” kind of way. No, Kirsch’s jealousy is far more... theatrical. Instead of sulking, he goes all in on proving that he’s the most elegant, refined, and capable man in your life. Picture him suddenly giving you a demonstration of his magic, casting the most intricate, glittering spell just to remind you how unmatched his beauty and skill are. Even if all you did was casually mention another Magic Knight in passing—“Oh, Finral was really helpful today”—Kirsch will immediately launch into a soliloquy about how they pale in comparison to his grace, his magic, and of course, his irresistible beauty.

He’ll say something like, “Ah, yes, Finral is skilled in his own... humble way. But does he possess the same elegance? The refined flair that only a nobleman such as myself could master? I think not!” And then he’ll probably strike some ridiculous, over-the-top pose as if he's modeling for a portrait. The funny part is that Kirsch is dead serious. He genuinely believes that nobody could possibly compare to him—and that includes everyone from your best friends to the Clover Kingdom’s most powerful Magic Knights. In his mind, he’s already won the “Most Perfect Partner” contest, but just in case you forgot, he’ll spend every waking moment reminding you of it.

As a noble, Kirsch takes his role with the utmost seriousness. He treats nobility like it’s an Olympic sport—and spoiler alert: he’s going for gold. Naturally, he wants you to be right there beside him, shining just as bright. So brace yourself, because he may or may not push you toward his ideal of refinement. You might be thinking, "What does that even mean?" Well, it means Kirsch is going to turn every casual moment into an impromptu finishing school lesson.

If your posture isn’t perfectly regal, don’t worry—Kirsch will swoop in to correct it with the finesse of someone adjusting a priceless vase. He’ll insist on teaching you courtly manners, giving little pointers on the best etiquette for high-society events. “No, no, darling, you must tilt your chin slightly more, like this. It’s all about grace!” It’s exhausting, yes, but Kirsch doesn’t do this to be condescending—he genuinely wants the two of you to be seen as the ultimate power couple, the absolute pinnacle of nobility. It’s like he’s on a personal mission to make sure when people talk about perfect couples, your names are at the top of the list with a spotlight and confetti.

And if you thought date night meant a quiet evening at home, think again. You’ll be expected to attend an endless stream of noble functions and events with him. Kirsch practically lives for these occasions, where he can parade you around in front of high society, beaming with pride. It’s like a red-carpet event every time. He’ll make sure everyone knows just how perfect and enviable your relationship is, always throwing in a few dramatic flourishes. “Isn’t my partner just the embodiment of grace and elegance?” he’ll say, loudly enough for the whole room to hear. Meanwhile, you’re standing there, trying not to not fall under pressure by how many eyes are set on you.

But here’s the thing—Kirsch can sometimes get a little too carried away. In his quest to maintain this flawless image, he might become overly picky or controlling, especially when it comes to appearances. Did you put the wrong fork on the wrong side of the plate at dinner? Oh no, here comes a mini lesson on the "true art" of table setting. It's not that he means to be overbearing, but sometimes his obsession with perfection takes the wheel, and suddenly you’re in a crash course for “How to Be a Noble 101.”

But that’s where you come in. You’re the only one who knows how to rein him in when he gets a bit too intense. With a playful nudge or a well-timed eye roll, you remind him that love is about more than just appearances. It’s about the two of you enjoying each other’s company, not putting on a show for everyone else. And despite his dramatic tendencies, Kirsch listens to you. He values your input, and even though it might take a little while for him to fully realize it, he does eventually see that his obsession with perfection isn’t what keeps your relationship strong—it’s the genuine love you share. And who knows, maybe you’ll get him to relax a little at the next noble event. Well, okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

For all his flair, dramatic speeches, and parade-worthy personality, Kirsch has a softer, more genuine side—one he saves just for you. Behind all the extravagance, there’s a tenderness that only comes out when it’s just the two of you. He loves running his fingers through your hair, each stroke so gentle and caring, it’s almost a surprise that this is the same Kirsch who acts like he’s starring in a romantic drama 24/7. His usual flamboyant energy takes a backseat to real, intimate affection, and you start to see a different side of him. This isn’t the Kirsch who’s commanding attention in a crowded ballroom or waxing poetic about his own reflection. This is the Kirsch who’s just…in love, quietly and sincerely.

And speaking of poetic, he’s surprisingly good at that too. Sure, his public displays of affection are often grandiose and over-the-top, but in these softer moments, he’s unexpectedly deep. He’ll share his thoughts with you about beauty, nature, and the way you make him feel, speaking with a calm, almost philosophical tone. He’s the type to sit beside you, gaze out at the stars, and talk about how the brilliance of the cosmos could never compare to your radiance. Yes, it sounds a little like something you’d find in a romance novel, but trust me—it’s the sincerity in his voice that makes it work. These are the moments where he��s not just admiring your outward beauty, but the deeper connection the two of you share, which is saying a lot for someone as obsessed with appearances as Kirsch.

When the night winds down, you’ll often find Kirsch falling asleep beside you, his arms wrapped around you in a protective yet tender embrace. It’s as if he never wants to let go, like holding you close is the only thing keeping him grounded. It’s here, in these quieter times, that you catch a glimpse of the real Kirsch—the man behind the glamour. The one who just wants to love and be loved, without the pomp, without the flair, without the need to constantly put on a show for the world. In these moments, all the outward bravado melts away, and you’re left with someone who, deep down, just wants to make sure you feel as cherished as he does. And despite all the showmanship, this side of him, this softer side, is just as real and just as beautiful.

Here’s the meme I was talking about. I couldn’t find the original one. Oops.

[quotergirl19]

I like the way the show is repurposing of a few of Penelope’s dresses from previous seasons, I expect the beginning of Penelope’s glow up is going to be that she simply stops wearing things that made her feel unattractive or ridiculous, as a way to boost her confidence.

Madame Delacroix did tell Penelope that a lady would never wear something that made her look ugly and we know Portia has only allowed Penelope a small number of dresses that weren’t yellow or that were more figure flattering.

So far we know that the green dress Penelope wore while visiting Marina and asking how she became with child is being repurposed:

And that loud, tacky floral spencer she wore over a pink dress season 1 is reused over a yellow dress in season 3.

Penelope will also eliminate excessive accessories like her hair bows.

She may continue her gradual glow up by repurposing some of her other more flattering dresses like these:

Which will lead up to her taking full control of her wardrobe and ending up in far more beautiful and stylish ensembles like this:

Do you have a favorite dress you’re hoping Penelope will repurpose?

[zenithangelic]

Hello! I love your overwatch fanfics. Could I request an Overwatch x gn reader fics? Reader takes some OW ladies to the mall. Which shops would they visit? What would they buy for themselves ( and their s/o?) Would they go to a coffee shop, or restaurant there? Characters I would be interested in are Mercy, D.Va, Widowmaker, Kiriko, and Tracer. But if you only write about the first two, that would be good enough for me. Thanks in advance.

Overwatch Mall Dates

-(seperate) mercy, dva, widowmaker, kiriko, tracer x gn!reader

Mercy

The glass doors of the shopping mall slide open as you and Angela step inside, greeted by the cool air conditioning and the hum of chatter from shoppers passing by. A gentle smile plays on her lips as she takes in the lively atmosphere. She’s dressed in casual yet elegant attire, a soft cream-colored blouse tucked into high-waisted jeans, her golden hair tied into a loose ponytail.

“I haven’t been to a mall in ages,” she admits with a chuckle, adjusting the strap of her crossbody bag. “But this will be fun, ja?”

You nod enthusiastically, already envisioning all the stores you’ll visit together. She reaches for your hand, her fingers warm as they intertwine with yours.

Mercy, being the brilliant scientist she is, is naturally drawn to technology stores. As you step inside one filled with the latest gadgets, her eyes light up with curiosity. She walks up to a display of smartwatches and picks one up, studying it with interest.

“These have come a long way,” she murmurs, glancing at you. “Do you have one?”

You shake your head, and she grins. “Perhaps I should get one for you. It would be good for tracking your health!”

You chuckle, knowing she’s always looking out for your well-being. Eventually, she decides to buy a sleek, high-tech fitness band for herself and a matching one for you. She playfully fastens it around your wrist before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Now we can monitor each other,” she teases.

The next stop is a large, cozy bookstore. The scent of freshly printed pages and coffee from the café in the corner fills the air. Mercy instinctively heads toward the medical section, skimming through various books on neuroscience and cutting-edge medical research. You can’t help but admire how dedicated she is to her work.

But she doesn’t just stick to medicine. Her fingers trail over the spines of novels, and she eventually picks up a beautifully bound collection of poetry.

“I love poetry,” she confesses. “There’s something so soothing about the way words can help heal just like medicine.”

She flips through the pages and smiles. “This one is for me.”

Not wanting to leave you empty-handed, she urges you to pick something out as well. Whether it’s a novel, a graphic novel, or even a journal, she insists on buying it for you.

“A good book is an investment,” she says warmly. “And I would love to hear your thoughts when you finish it.”

Mercy isn’t overly concerned with fashion, but she enjoys looking at elegant and practical clothing. She drags you into a boutique filled with stylish yet comfortable outfits.

“Try this,” she says, holding up a soft sweater in a color she thinks would suit you. “I think it would look wonderful on you.”

She watches as you try on a few items, offering small nods of approval. When she picks something for herself—a simple yet sophisticated blouse—you insist on buying it for her as a gift.

She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t protest too much, her cheeks slightly pink. “I suppose it would be rude to refuse a gift from my partner,” she teases, kissing your cheek.

After all the shopping, you both decide to unwind at the arcade. Mercy isn’t one for video games, but she’s intrigued by the claw machines and lighthearted challenges. You guide her to a two-player shooting game, and she smirks.

“This should be easy,” she muses, gripping the plastic gun. “Precision is my specialty.”

And she proves it. With swift reflexes and sharp focus, she beats your score effortlessly. She turns to you with a triumphant smile. “Perhaps I should join Overwatch’s gaming division?” she jokes.

She also takes an interest in the claw machines, her competitive streak showing as she tries multiple times to win you a plushie. When she finally succeeds, she hands you the soft toy with an accomplished grin.

“For you, my dear.”

After hours of walking, Mercy suggests a break at a charming little coffee shop. The two of you settle into a corner booth, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. She orders a classic cappuccino, while you choose your preferred drink.

She sighs contentedly, stirring her coffee. “Days like these are important,” she murmurs. “Life moves so fast—we forget to slow down and simply enjoy it.”

You nod in agreement, reaching for her hand across the table. She smiles, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze.

You both talk about everything and nothing—your favorite parts of the day, funny moments from work, dreams for the future. There’s no rush, no urgency, just the warmth of each other’s company.

As the day winds down, Mercy looks at you fondly. “Thank you for today,” she says softly. “I had a wonderful time.”

She then tilts her head playfully. “Same time next weekend?”

You laugh, nodding. “Absolutely.”

D.Va

You meet Hana outside the mall. She grins when she sees you, adjusting her oversized sweatshirt, a soft pink that matches her signature colors. Her brown hair is tied into twin pigtails, bouncing with each excited step she takes.

"Oh my gosh, we are gonna have so much fun!" she exclaims, practically dragging you forward by the hand. "Where do we start first? Gaming store? Snacks? Ooooh, maybe we should hit up the arcade right away!"

You laugh at her enthusiasm, letting her take the lead. "You pick, Hana. It’s your day too."

She gives you a mischievous wink. "Then buckle up, babe! This is gonna be the best mall date ever."

Hana naturally starts heading toward the gaming section of the electronics store, eyes lighting up at the sight of new releases and high-end peripherals.

"Look at this headset!" she gasps, picking up a sleek model. "This would totally up my game—well, not that I need help, but it would be nice."

You chuckle. "You want it?"

She hesitates for a moment before smirking. "I mean... it’s not like I need it, but… okay, yes, I totally want it. But I’m getting you something too!" She spins around and scans the shelves before grabbing a game she knows you’ve had your eye on.

"Fair trade?" she asks, offering it with a bright smile.

You take the game, nodding. "Deal."

Next, she tugs you into an international snack shop, eyes gleaming at all the colorful packages.

"Oh my god, look! Korean honey butter chips!" she exclaims, grabbing a bag and hugging it dramatically. "These are my childhood in a bag. You HAVE to try them!"

She also stocks up on some Japanese Ramune sodas and a variety of candy, tossing a few surprise treats into your basket as well.

"We’ll need these for later," she says, winking. "Movie marathon later at my place?"

You nod eagerly. "Absolutely."

D.Va isn’t usually one for high fashion, but she loves comfy clothes and statement pieces. She pulls you into a boutique filled with stylish streetwear and casual fits.

"Oooooh, look at this hoodie!" she squeals, holding up a pastel-colored oversized hoodie with a cute bunny design. "Do you think this is too much?"

You shake your head. "It’s perfect for you!"

She tries it on, striking a dramatic pose. "Guess I gotta get it then! But only if you pick out something too."

She helps you browse, insisting on finding something that makes you feel as comfortable as she does in her new hoodie. Eventually, she picks out a piece of the same colour—maybe a jacket, or even socks, anything to subtly twin with you.

"Now we’re an unstoppable duo!" she laughs.

It wouldn’t be a date with D.Va without a trip to the arcade. She beelines straight for the rhythm games, cracking her knuckles with a confident smirk.

"Hope you’re ready to lose," she teases, already stepping onto the dance pad.

Despite your best efforts, she absolutely demolishes you at Dance Dance Revolution. She’s practically a blur, moving flawlessly to the beat.

"Not bad, babe," she teases, ruffling your hair. "But maybe I should coach you?"

You get your revenge at a racing game, where a well-timed drift secures your victory. She gasps in mock betrayal. "HOW?! I am literally a pro at this!"

She pouts but laughs, shaking her head. "Okay, okay, you got me. But next time, I’m totally getting my win back."

Before leaving, she spots a claw machine and gets that determined look in her eye. "Wait. I need to win something for you."

After several failed attempts, she finally snags a plushie—a tiny, chubby bunny that she eagerly hands over to you.

"There! Proof of my love," she declares, eagerly awaiting your reaction.

You smile, holding the plushie close. "I love it."

After hours of fun, the two of you decide to take a break at a bubble tea café. She orders a taro milk tea with extra boba and suggests you try something new.

"You always stick to the same flavors," she teases. "Branch out! Try this one, it’s my favorite."

She steals a sip of yours before you even get a chance to taste it. "Mmmm, not bad," she hums. "But mine’s better."

You both sit by the window, sipping your drinks and watching people pass by.

"This was fun," she says, resting her head against your shoulder. "I needed this. Just a chill day with you, no responsibilities, no stress."

You squeeze her hand, and she grins, nudging you. "We gotta do this again. Maybe next time, we’ll bring some friends and make it a full-on outing. But don’t worry, you’re still my favorite person to goof around with."

As the sun starts to set, she stretches and smirks. "Sooo... still on for movie night at my place? Snacks and cuddles included?"

You nod, grinning. "Lead the way."

Widowmaker

The air in the shopping mall is thick with chatter and the soft hum of background music. The neon lights from various storefronts cast colorful reflections against the polished floors. As you step inside, Amélie follows beside you, her gait elegant and deliberate, her golden eyes scanning the environment with quiet scrutiny. She wears a fitted black turtleneck, dark skinny jeans, and heeled boots—an effortlessly sophisticated look that makes her stand out even in a crowd.

“I do not understand the appeal of malls,” she says, folding her arms as she surveys the bustling scene around her. “Too many people. Too much noise.”

You smirk, nudging her playfully. “That’s why we’re here together. To make it more tolerable.”

She exhales softly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Very well. Lead the way, mon amour.”

Amélie isn’t one for frivolous shopping, but she does have a taste for the finer things in life. You guide her into an upscale fashion boutique, where the air smells of expensive perfumes and the racks are lined with designer pieces.

She trails her fingers over a sleek, navy-blue dress, tilting her head slightly as she examines the fabric. “This is elegant,” she murmurs, seemingly lost in thought.

You watch her with interest. “You should try it on.”

She gives you a look, arching a delicate brow. “Perhaps. But only if you find something as well.”

After some searching, she selects a deep wine-red scarf for you. “This will suit you,” she states simply before making her way to the fitting rooms.

When she steps out, the dress hugs her figure perfectly, and for the briefest moment, a small, almost imperceptible smile crosses her lips as she meets your gaze.

“Stunning,” you say sincerely.

She smirks, running her fingers through your hair. “You are not so bad yourself.”

Next, you find yourself in a specialty perfume boutique. Amélie takes an immediate interest, her sharp senses attuned to even the subtlest of fragrances.

She picks up a deep violet-colored bottle and sprays a tester strip, bringing it close to her nose. “Rich. Sophisticated. Hints of night jasmine,” she notes aloud, offering the strip to you.

You inhale and nod. “It suits you.”

She selects a second bottle, a lighter scent with citrus undertones, and holds it up to you. “And this one… it reminds me of you.”

The intimate moment is not lost on you. She purchases the jasmine fragrance for herself and, to your surprise, buys the citrus one as well.

“A reminder of today,” she murmurs, tucking it away in her bag.

At your suggestion, you step into a small, modern art gallery nestled within the mall. Amélie's sharp gaze flickers over the paintings and sculptures with something akin to appreciation.

She pauses before an abstract painting of a midnight cityscape. “There is something… haunting about it,” she observes. “A quiet loneliness.”

You nod, standing beside her. “Do you like it?”

She takes a lingering glance before turning to you. “Perhaps.”

Moving on from the painting, she notices a small, delicate figurine—a silver ballerina frozen mid-pirouette.

“You danced once, didn’t you?” you ask gently.

She nods, tracing the figurine’s pose with her fingertip. “A long time ago.”

She quickly averts her eyes and moves on without another word.

When you suggest a stop at the arcade, she gives you an incredulous look. “You think I would enjoy such a place?”

“Trust me,” you say with a grin.

The moment she sees the virtual shooting range, however, a smirk tugs at her lips. “Ah. Now I see.”

She steps up to the machine, selecting the hardest difficulty without hesitation. With effortless precision, she takes shot after shot, her reflexes impossibly fast. The attendant stares, slack-jawed, as she clears the entire challenge with a perfect score.

“You're enjoying this!” you note with a chuckle.

She lowers the plastic gun, her expression unreadable. “Perhaps.”

As the day winds down, the two of you retreat to a quiet café away from the crowds. She orders an espresso, the deep aroma of coffee curling through the air.

She watches you over the rim of her cup, studying you in that meticulous way she always does. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You smile. “I did. And you?”

She tilts her head slightly, considering. “It was… not unpleasant.”

You chuckle. “I’ll take that as a win.”

She sets her cup down, eyes softening just slightly, and a hint of a smile on her lips. “Perhaps we should do this again sometime.”

You take her hand in yours, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “I’d like that.”

Kiriko

The moment you step into the shopping mall, Kiriko spins around on her heel and grins at you, her energy infectious. She's wearing a casual hoodie, paired with leggings and sneakers that let her move freely.

“I hope you’re ready for an adventure!” she exclaims, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the first set of stores. “Malls are full of surprises, you just have to know where to look.”

You chuckle, letting her lead. “I trust your judgment. Where to first?”

She taps her chin in exaggerated thought before smirking. “Somewhere fun, obviously.”

Before you can blink, Kiriko has already pulled you into a bustling arcade, her eyes immediately locking onto the rhythm game section. She bounces on the balls of her feet, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oh! Dance Battle?” she asks, nudging you toward the flashing game. “Think you can keep up?”

You laugh, stepping onto the pad beside her. “We’ll see.”

The moment the game starts, Kiriko moves like a blur, effortlessly stepping to the beat with perfect timing. She giggles, throwing in a playful spin before landing back on her mark. “C’mon, you gotta move faster than that!”

Despite your best efforts, she completely outmatches you, and when the round ends, she throws her arms up in victory. “That’s one win for me! What’s next?”

She challenges you to a shooting game next, surprising you with her dead-on accuracy. “Ninja reflexes,” she teases. “It’s kind of my thing.”

You shake your head, grinning. “I should’ve known.”

Before leaving, she insists on playing a claw machine. “I’m totally winning you something,” she declares confidently, cracking her knuckles.

Several failed attempts later, she groans in frustration before finally managing to grab a small fox plushie. She holds it up triumphantly. “Aha! Behold! Your very own lucky fox guardian!” She presses it into your hands with a proud grin. “Take good care of them.”

After working up an appetite at the arcade, Kiriko drags you toward a Japanese food stall. Her eyes sparkle as she surveys the selection, her fingers twitching as if unsure what to grab first.

“Oh man, they have taiyaki!” she exclaims, pointing at the golden, fish-shaped pastries filled with custard. She orders one and immediately takes a bite, sighing in satisfaction.

“You have to try this,” she insists, breaking off a piece and holding it up for you. When you take a bite, she watches you expectantly. “Good, right?”

You nod. “Delicious.”

She then buys a few packs of mochi and matcha-flavored candies, tossing an extra bag into your hands. “For later,” she says with a wink. “Snacking is an important part of any adventure.”

Kiriko’s excitement reaches new heights when she spots an anime and collectibles store. “Okay, we have to go in here.”

The moment you step inside, she’s already darting between aisles, gasping at figurines, plushies, and posters of her favorite series. She picks up a fox mask and holds it up to her face. “Think this would make me look even cooler?”

You chuckle. “You don’t need any help in that department.”

She grins, setting the mask down before grabbing a keychain featuring a tiny kitsune charm. “This one’s for you,” she says, handing it to you. “To remind you of me.”

You take it, touched by the gesture. “Thanks, Kiriko.”

You both move onto clothes shopping. Kiriko is less interested in high fashion and more in finding comfortable, stylish streetwear. She picks out a hoodie with fox ears and immediately pulls it on over her current one.

“What do you think?” she asks, spinning around. “Too much?”

You smirk. “It’s very you.”

Satisfied, she picks out a matching one for you. “Now we can be a team,” she jokes, nudging your side.

She also snags a few socks with tiny fox patterns, holding them up proudly. “These are essential,” she declares.

“Essential for what?”

She grins. “For being awesome.”

As the day winds down, Kiriko drags you to a bubble tea café, claiming it as the perfect way to end the adventure. She orders a matcha milk tea with extra pearls and excitedly watches as you try a new flavour she recommends.

She takes a long sip and leans back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “This was a good day.”

You nod, mirroring her relaxed posture. “It was.”

She twirls her straw between her fingers before looking at you with a teasing smile. “See? Told you malls could be fun.”

You chuckle. “You're right, I had a great time.”

Kiriko stretches her arms above her head and then rests her chin on her hands. “Next time, we’ll have to plan something even bigger.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Even bigger?”

She grins. “Obviously. This is only the beginning.”

With a final sip of her drink, she hops up, reaching for your hand. “C’mon, let’s go. We still have a whole evening ahead of us.”

Tracer

The doors of the shopping mall slide open, and in a blink, Lena is already a few steps ahead of you, spinning on her heel with a bright grin. She wears a casual bomber jacket over a simple tee, ripped jeans, and her signature orange-tinted goggles perched on her forehead. Her short brown hair bounces as she shifts her weight from foot to foot, practically buzzing with excitement.

“C’mon, love! No time to waste!” she chirps, grabbing your wrist and gently tugging you forward. “We’ve got a whole mall to conquer!”

You chuckle, matching her pace. “You act like we’re on a mission.”

“Every day’s a mission if you do it right!” she winks. “First stop—hmm—oh! Let’s find somethin’ fun!”

Lena zips toward a sneaker shop, pressing her hands against the glass before turning back to you with a determined look. “Alright, hear me out. I should get some new shoes, yeah?”

She’s already inside before you can reply, weaving through the aisles, eyes darting from one display to the next. She holds up a pair of high-tops, then a flashy set of running shoes, glancing at you for approval.

“These? Or these?” she asks, holding them side by side. “Speed or style?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re already fast. Do you really need running shoes?”

She gasps dramatically. “Oi! Every second counts!”

Eventually, she settles on a sleek, lightweight pair—perfect for quick movement. But before leaving, she insists on picking a matching pair for you. “Gotta keep up with me somehow,” she teases, nudging you playfully.

The next stop is a videogame store, Lena darts straight to the new releases, eyes widening as she skims the shelves.

“Oh! Look at this one!” she exclaims, pointing at a fast-paced racing game. “Bet I could beat ya at it!”

You smirk. “Confident, are we?”

She grins mischievously. “More like realistic.”

After a quick back-and-forth, you both decide to pick up a multiplayer game to play together later. She slings an arm around your shoulder as you both head towards the checkout.

Lena has a very distinct style—effortlessly cool with a touch of rebellious charm. So when you both pass a trendy streetwear store, she practically bounces inside, scanning the racks with keen interest.

“Oh, now this is proper wicked,” she says, pulling out a cropped bomber jacket. She holds it up against herself, then eyes you. “You’d look great in one too!”

She insists on matching jackets, and after some playful coaxing, you agree. She also picks up a new beanie and a set of fingerless gloves, which she immediately puts on.

“Nice, right?” she asks, wiggling her fingers. “Looks like I’m ready for a heist.”

“You’re plenty mischievous without the gloves.”

She throws her head back in laughter. “Guilty as charged!”

After all the shopping, Lena’s stomach lets out an audible growl. She dramatically clutches her stomach. “I'm starving!”

You lead her toward the food court, where she scans the stalls, eyes gleaming. “Oh! Burgers? Sushi? Chicken?"

She eventually settles on a little bit of everything. As she digs in, she chats between bites, telling animated stories from past Overwatch missions.

“So there I was, blinkin’ in and out, dodging lasers, and then—bam! Right hook to the baddie, and he’s down for the count!”

You shake your head, amused. “You’re impossible.”

She smirks. “That’s why you love me.”

On your way out, Lena spots an old-school photo booth. Her eyes light up. “Oh, we have to do this!”

She pulls you inside before you can protest, stuffing a few coins into the slot. “Alright, make funny faces!”

The machine clicks away as she leans into you, pulling faces—one with her tongue sticking out, another where she pretends to be mid-blink. In the last frame, she turns suddenly and kisses your cheek just as the camera flashes.

When the photos print, she snatches them up, beaming. “Look at us, a right pair of troublemakers.”

You shake your head, taking one of the strips. “We make a good team.”

She grins, stuffing her set into her jacket pocket. “The best.”

As the two of you walk out of the mall, she loops an arm around your waist. “Same time next weekend?”

You smirk. “Only if you don’t leave me in the dust.”

She laughs, leaning into you. “No promises, love.”

♡If you liked this fic, please consider buying me a coffee! Ko-fi ♡

[silverynight]

Hmm, something mundane and wholesome for Tanjiro in the Modern AUs?

Our burgundy long haired protagonist volunteers to have his hair styled and even fit with accessories from some lady friends like Mitsuri, Shinobu and Kanao?

After a couple of snapshots and stuff, they squeal at how wonderful he looks in the butterfly clips.

The guys walk into the room hearing the noise and weren’t expecting a stylish looking Tanjiro wearing those. Their hearts freeze up or beat faster, seeing that he looks more girly and pretty.

Tanjiro asks if they are sick or smth because each of their faces are pink to red.

The ladies facepalm or laugh lightheartedly.

They laugh because they already spent time making him pretty and they're amused by the male Pillars' reactions, but they understand them completely.

Tanjirou is too beautiful for his own good and if it was them seeing him for the first time without having an idea of how devastatingly gorgeous he'd end up looking, they would have acted just the same as the others.

[jaysficarchive]

The Girl With the Pink Bow

Synopsis: She catches a glimpse of their black uniforms embroidered with gold out of the restaurant's window. Motorcycles with loud engines passed by, most of the riders not paying attention to her. Except for one.

Relationship(s): Takashi Mitsuya/Momoka Oshiro (OC)

Misc: First time writing TR stuff in a long time. Wanted to write about the first time Momoka and Mitsuya met.

@peachyblkdemonslayer

Since coming to Tokyo, Momoka went through several experiences at once. She went to a new school, made new friends, and now lived with her grandmother. As much as she missed Kyoto, she found herself endeared to her new city.

Now sitting in a booth of the Paradise Grill restaurant, she scribbled away at a coloring book while humming. Satsumi, a friend from school, invited her and a few others over for lunch. Momoka really liked Satsumi. She was tough, caring, and an excellent cook.

"Hey, girl!"

Momoka looked up at Miyoko, Pearly, Rumiko, and the Sameyama sisters walking in. Their clothes varied; from Miyoko's more stylish, model off duty look to Rumiko's kenjutsu robes. She excitedly waved and invited them over to the booth.

"Hey! You guys made it!"

"I wouldn't miss lunch on Sumi for the world," Miyoko said, sliding next to the girl. "You should see her bentos. They're gifts from God."

As if on cue, Satsumi came strolling out, pushing a cart with plates of food in front of her. One of the perks of being a cook for your family's restaurant. "Lunch is served, ladies."

Momoka clapped her hands with joy. As she reached for her plate, a light flashed in the corner of her eye. Setting down the plate, she dug into a bit of the meal. While eating, she turned her head and saw the light coming closer, sounds of engines following behind. At that moment, she sees them. Satsumi's words from a fateful walk home echoed in the back of her subconscious.

"If you hear a bunch of motorcycles, look the other way. If you see a gold manji symbol, run. Run as fast and far as you can. Don't look back until you're safe."

She catches a glimpse of their black uniforms embroidered with gold out of the restaurant's window. Motorcycles with loud engines passed by, most of the riders not paying attention to her. Except for one. His hair was a silvery lilac and lavender eyes. A white sash tied behind his back. Both of them held each other's gazes for a minute. Then, he smiled at her before driving off.

Momoka blinked slowly, trying to process if what happened was real. Who was that? Why did he smile at her? She swore she'd seen his face before but couldn't remember where.

"Hello? You there?" Pearly waved her hand in the girl's face. "Sumi made all this delicious food and you've barely eaten it."

"Huh? Oh, sorry..." Momoka went back to her food, still thinking about the boy who smiled at her.

The face of the girl with the pink bow wouldn't leave Mitsuya's mind's eye. That bow, her curly hair, and her pink outfit made her look like the dolls his sisters played with. It was hard to believe she was real. She seemed so familiar.

"Who the hell were you smiling at, Mitsuya?" Draken, a tall young boy with a blonde ponytail, asked.

"No one," he replied. He hoped to see the beauty again. Maybe then he'd remember where he seen her.

[whumplump]

Content: vampire whump, religion, blindness, blood

The Angel King, chapter 2

Zaphir repeated the process for a few days. Visit the capital like someone who doesn't want anything; take the blood of a poor, inattentive person; and run away. And it worked.

He stopped at a leaflet stand and sat down next to a young woman in an ornate dress. She caught his attention. Her light hair and eyes; her sweet perfume, cinnamon scent. Their eyes met. The girl smiled at him. Maybe it was the new, fancier clothes he'd stolen from a victim the night before. Now, he looked a little less like a peasant.

"What's a young tourist doing here at this hour?" She asked in her calm, sweet voice.

"I must ask you the same question. A woman as beautiful as you..." he held the girl's hand and gave it a soft kiss. "Shouldn't be out here alone. Your beauty attracts men's attention. It's dangerous.”

The girl blushed and looked away, flattered.

“What is your name, my lady?” Zaphir asked.

“Calliope.”

He gave her a small nod. “Zaphir.”

He smiled and stood up, pulling the woman with him.

“Come on, my sweet Calliope. I'll take you to the flower shop. I will buy you a huge bouquet of the most expensive and beautiful roses, my cinnamon-scented lady.”

The two left hand in hand, like a couple in love. Zaphir walked to the woman's right, protecting her from the street where the carts were passing.

After his first trail, Siege had locked himself in his room. He buried his head in the pillow and cried for hours, repudiating the taste of blood in his mouth. He didn't want to participate in the killing. Let Zaphir go around making hell alone.

After a while, he couldn't cry anymore. Bursting into tears wouldn't solve anything. He had to accept it, as he would never become human again, but he would not be a bloodthirsty demon. He would live alone, even starve to death, if necessary.

He sat on the bed with his head down. A dull thud from the bedroom door startled him, almost making him fall out of bed. Coupled, a voice.

"Peasant."

Siege turned his head. Standing in front of the closed door was a short man with salmon-colored hair. The heavy bangs completely covered one eye and almost completely the other. A small white flower adorned his soft, silky hair. He was wearing a white shirt with a pink collar, covered by a loose red overcoat. Two long sashes fell to the height of the stomach, each with details sewn in gold. Around his neck, there was a chain with a silver crucifix. On the belt, several small chains and other silver crucifixes, giving the monochromatic black jeans a more stylish look. The man was not wearing shoes, and his feet were covered in some kind of black slime that burned the wooden floor underneath him.

Siege lost his breath. Something in his vampire instinct warned him that there was a threat right in front of him.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Metatron.” The man brought his hand to his chest. “I am the Angel King.”

Siege couldn't believe his eyes. He blinked several times. He stammered, trying to think of what to say. He said the first thing that came to mind.

“The— what… Angel? Angel King? Like— king of angels? An angel? You're an angel? What…”

The man laughed softly and rested his back against the door, with his hands in his pockets. "It's a little bit more complicated than that, peasant.”

The stranger spoke, but Siege noticed that Metatron wasn't looking at him. The man's head didn't even point in his direction. He was unfocused, in a relaxed and calm position.

Metatron was blind. The thick, heavy bangs left a patch of pale, dull iris, strangely golden, visible to Siege. The peasant deduced Metatron’s condition and wanted to take advantage of it.

"What do you want here?" he asked, getting up from the bed slowly, trying hard so that it didn't make any noise; and was successful.

"I saw what you and your brother went through on the first day of your ordeal. And I saw how you hesitated. I know your heart and your mind. I am powerful, I will guide you."

Siege wasn't paying attention. He bent down to try and get something from the lowest drawer of the dresser next to the bed. It seemed to work, when Metatron's voice became deeper and more serious.

“I may not see, peasant, but I know exactly what you're thinking of doing.”

Siege stopped. He got a better look at Metatron. The stranger had the appearance of an ordinary man, except for his colorful hair and extravagant clothes. But other than that, he didn't seem dangerous.

"Are you really blind?"

Metatron nodded with a smile. "I have been deprived of the gift of sight since my birth. It is not a major inconvenience, however. I have other abilities—”

"But your eyes look normal!"

"Don't judge a book by its cover, peasant. You can't assume something from a person just by their looks. An inconvenient comment from you, I would say.”

Siege mumbled an apology, but in truth, he couldn't care less about what that stuck-up angel weirdo thought. If you don't want people to judge your book by its cover, don't make an ugly cover, he thought.

“Your brother is arriving with a woman. He will take her to his room, they will love each other all night long, then he will feed her his blood and transform her into a vampire. She will be the first calf. And he will love her as a wife. He will be chained to her. Whoever hurts her will be hurting him too.”

“A pact”, Siege murmured.

“Almost that. An alliance. A contract from the heart. Your brother may be a murderer, but he's not completely heartless. He is in love. He would do anything to make that woman happy.”

In the next second, the two could hear the sound of the house's front door opening and closing within a short interval of time. They also heard footsteps in the distance, rhythmic, certainly those of two people. They heard more door creaks before the sound of a lock.

"How do you know all this?"

Metatron smiled. "I said I have other abilities."

Siege sat on the bed and sighed. "What do you want from me? What are you going to do to me?"

“To you, peasant? Nothing. I need to do some things around you."

"What kind of—"

Siege was interrupted by a loud sigh coming from the other room. He fell back onto the bed and let out an uncomfortable groan.

"Now I'm going to have to put up with this bullshit all night", he complained.

Metatron chuckled softly.

"But then, what do you want?"

"I will take shelter on Earth. I want to see humans and the new vampire race that has just been born. You will be my living example."

“Wow, really cool," Siege commented sarcasticly, despondently.

“Don't be sad, peasant. It gets better from now on.”

"Y’know what?" Siege said, standing up. "I don't want to hear any more of this." He snuck under the bed and lay on his back, hands over his chest, like a corpse in a coffin.

"It's going to take you a long time to get to sleep," Metatron said.

“It doesn't matter."

Siege didn't want to sleep, he just thought that by pretending that he would make Metatron leave.

Metatron walked slowly until he found the bed. He sat, roaming his sightless eyes around the shabby room.

Siege and Metatron remained silent and motionless for an immensity of hours. In the other room, Zaphir and Calliope loved each other until dawn, when the man cut himself in the wrist and forced the woman to drink his blood. They both fell asleep. Siege also slept throughout the day. Metatron stayed there the whole time, waiting. Patient. He had plenty of time.

The following night, Siege awoke in his makeshift tomb. He was shocked when he got up and saw that Metatron was still in the room.

“Lord have mercy! Won't you leave me alone?!"

He didn't wait for the man to respond. He left the bedroom irritated. In the living room, he came across Zaphir washing the wound on his wrist in a basin of water.

Neither of them were willing to say good morning. Or good night, in this case.

"What was that scream?" began Zaphir.

Siege ignored the question. "Did you have fun last night?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb", Siege said breathlessly. "I had to listen to you and your little wife's sin show all night."

Zaphir shrugged. "I don't know why you're so upset. Besides, it wasn't just a night of love. I made a calf. A servant. A beautiful and fragile female. I can share her with you if you want."

"No, thank you very much, you slimeball. Go put on a shirt, for God's sake!”

Zaphir laughed. Metatron left Siege's room calmly. He watched the two brothers from a distance. Only Siege was able to see him. Zaphir was completely unaware of his presence.

"And one more thing,” Siege reinforced, "I don't want to know about your adventure of going around making vampires. Leave me out of it."

Zaphir gave him a smile and a mocking nod.

“He's going to upset you", Metatron whispered.

"Oh, shut up!" Siege shouted.

"Are you crazy? I didn't say anything!" protested Zaphir.

"I'm not talking with you!"

Siege stomped away, leaving Zaphir with a confused expression on his face. Metatron followed.

What madness was that? Oh, it didn't matter. Zaphir didn't need his brother's scandals now. He needed his wife. His cinnamon lady. When Calliope woke up, he would have a lot to say to her.

[prismstonearchives]

スタイリッシュレディ- Stylish Lady

[pregnant-sissy-abdl]

INVITATION TO PREGNANCY

Chapter 1: Mystery shopping

As the first trimester of my wife's pregnancy unfolded, subtle yet significant changes began to grace her body. The beginnings of a baby bump emerged, a gentle reminder of the life growing within her. While the anticipation and excitement of welcoming a child filled our hearts, my wife couldn't help but feel a twinge of dissatisfaction with the changes she experienced.  For example, her once-favourite clothes, which now clung too snugly, served as a poignant reminder that her body was transforming. Also she was feeling that her everyday life is now fully changing, while I just go on living with my usual daily stuff.

One evening, as we sat together on the couch, my wife turned to me with a sparkle in her eyes. She had a mischievous grin on her face, and I knew something was brewing in her mind.

“You know how I have been a little unhappy lately? Now I have an idea how to fix it," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "I want to find a way for you to participate more in this pregnancy." My curiosity piqued, I leaned closer to her, eager to hear her plan. She reached for my hand, intertwining her fingers with mine. "I thought we could start by having you join me for doctor's appointments," she suggested. "It would mean the world to me to have your support during those important moments."

Of course I wanted her to know that she is not alone, so I nodded somewhat eagerly. "Of course, honey," I replied, "I want to be there with you every step of the way, from the doctor's office to the delivery room.”

She beamed at my response, her eyes shimmering with appreciation. Her next idea came immediately after: “And what about attending birthing classes together?" she proposed. "We can learn about the process together, ask questions, and prepare ourselves as a team." I nodded a bit less eagerly, but still promising to participate. Anything to make her happy.

After a few weeks, I had come a long way in my involvement during the pregnancy. However, it seemed that my wife was still not perfectly happy and was probably expecting even more from me. In the following days, she gently approached the subject, and suggested we visit a maternity clothing shop together.

Confusion momentarily clouded my mind. What could my presence in a ladies’ clothing shop possibly contribute to her well-being during the pregnancy? But I quickly dismissed my skepticism, realising that I just need to play along to keep her satisfied. Maybe this all was just due to the pregnancy hormones, and everything would be back to normal in less than nine months. “Anything to make her happy”, I thought once again.

Next morning, stepping into the maternity clothes shop, I was immediately taken aback by the vibrant colors and stylish displays that greeted me. Gone were my preconceived notions of dull and shapeless garments. Instead, I discovered a treasure trove of beautiful and fashionable attire specially designed for pregnant women. As I perused the racks, my eyes widened with surprise and delight. Not only were there elegant dresses and chic tops, but I also stumbled upon a section dedicated to maternity lingerie. I couldn't help but be amazed at how they managed to create such alluring and sexy undergarments that accentuated the natural beauty of pregnant women.

My wife urged me to choose outfits that I thought she would look stunning in. Puzzled but willing to embrace this opportunity, I started selecting a few outfits that caught my eye. I considered her style, comfort, and the delicate balance between fashion and functionality.  Imagining her radiant in the chosen pieces, I collected a variety of dresses, tops, several pairs of maternity jeans and shiny leggings, and even some pink lingerie.

As she tried on the clothes, I observed the way her eyes lit up when she found an outfit she loved.  Quite soon she gently suggested that I might need to leave for other matters, assuring me that she wanted to stay a bit longer to explore some additional shopping on her own. Although a bit surprised, I nodded, understanding her desire to find something sexy, such as a see-through night gown, to surprise me with. Yes, there would definitely be a surprise, but little did I know...

(Click here to read the next chapter.)

[grayintogreen]

ye olde good roseverse ask: can you talk some more about the heavenly siblings? pretty please? like, sure, I know that the color of gabriel's wings doesn't indicate anything of importance at the moment, but I still need to know it. and the capital D-dead ones, what did they look like, what actors were the inspirations for them looks-wise or voice-wise (I'm still not over raphael as josh groban, that's absolutely genius)?

Gabriel's wings are dark gray!

So the order of the siblings is Michael, Gabriel, Barachiel, Uriel, Raphael, Selaphiel, Jophiel, and Lucifer. Their virtues are Strength (which is not a heavenly virtue- that's why there's eight, because Michael needs to be Strength), Diligence, Charity, Temperance, Patience, Chastity, Kindness, and Humility, respectively.

Barachiel is a little bit of a hippie flower crown type, very friendly and easy-going with blessings as the angel of charity. Long curly blonde hair. Fun fact! His symbol is roses, so do that with what you will when you consider that Eve and the Root are symbolized by roses and he fell to them. His voice claim is Caleb Hyles.

Selaphiel has kinda got this... serious lanky anime lady vibe (think Yuko Ichihara from xxxholic or Senjumaru from Bleach), but black. Long dark hair, heavy robes over a rail thin form with black raven wings. She wears a thurible on her hip. She's very serious. She's very much the equivalent of Belphegor in her workaholic state. Despite being on the young end, she tends to be the very serious, overworked mom friend who doesn't abide distractions and is very serious. She was the last one to fall when the archangels sealed the Root and made the other four depart so they would be spared. Her voice claim is Heather Headley.

Jophiel is teeny tiny and has this kind of bright eclectic flair to her, very stylish, very cute, very sweet. She looks a lot like Lucifer to the point where people would probably think they were twins if she didn't have the head-wings. Her wings are white, but she wears a lot of silver and pink. She's kind of the Bee of the group. She guarded Eden and was really protective of it. She was the first to die in the fight, and you can probably guess that it was personal on Eve's part since she was still pretty peeved.... Which is sad because she was always so nice to Eve. Her voice claim is Jessie Mueller.

Hopefully that's enough of a tease! I don't wanna give too much away about the main four since we'll see more of them, but these three will barely appear and their appearances aren't really a spoiler.

[archiverstappen]

Ok so this is gonna sound kinda random but I really love how you used photos of girls with long nails for your cat sitter series.

Now I don’t know much about the wags so I could be speaking out of my ass but I can’t picture Max with someone that has long nails like that. There’s no reason for me to think that but I do and seeing the nails weirdly made me feel so nice.

Cause I’m someone that does all that stuff like the nails, I have fun with my make up and taking time doing my hair in cute hairstyles and in a lot of fics that’s the opposite of how they usually describe y/n unless they use a model face claim or something.

And absolutely NOT trying to shit on any of those writers or fics at all, there was just something nice of the non famous crazy cat lady neighbor holding a paddle or the cats leg with her grey and pink nails.

omg i didn’t even expect anybody to notice that! tbh i always imagine that crazy cat lady has always been more of a stylish girl that loves to dress up (because this is the opposite of real life me). i guess that’s one of the perks of writing a fictional character, you can imagine them however you want to be!! i’m so glad that you kinda connect to her in some way🥹🫶🏼

thank you for sharing your thoughts <3

[vivian-at-home]

OOTD

tldr: pushing boundaries, did some shopping for cheap chic, and thanking friends

I am really pushing boundaries lately with some androgynous bits here and some outright girly bits there. I am also growing my hair out, and I'm going to get one of those laser things because research tells me that's the way to go. I am trying to get a referral to the clinic from my doctor because the last time it got derailed by COVID.

I am daring to do things I never would before; like shopping openly in the ladies department, keeping my nails painted, wearing pinks and pastels and neutrals, more form fitting clothing. Nothing exotic at all, just exactly what other ladies my age wear (assuming they still have a body as hot as mine lol). Nice tight butt lifting jeans, Doc Marten boots and other androgynous shoes like grey slip on runners, henley shirts, anything girly I can get away with. I have a couple of new skirts coming and I can't wait to try them out, I also got a couple of new pushup bras that nothing is gonna hide that I might have to wait to try out lol, unless it's under a winter coat or baggy hoodie 😳 Trying to conciously wear a bra every day, even to work. Gradually replacing all my boxer briefs with those ridiculously comfy and flattering boy shorts, wearing the standard black and white check coat with poofy hoodies, my pink camo beanie for the coming cold, etc. I am just wearing what I want to wear, and if that's a pearl necklace and LBD with leggings, that's what I am wearing. 🌈

Please consider I'm not 'out' to any extant at all (just to my siblings and mother and a couple friends), but I have found that pretty much no matter where I go, no one really bats an eye, so I just keep pushing those edges. Even in my former male life I was a bit of a fashion whore, always trying new styles but trying to be classy and elegant, so now as a woman, with the massive range of stylish colourful comfortable flattering and yes sexy clothing to choose from, I am an artist with a whole new pallette. Or maybe a kid in a candy store lol.

I am also well aware that I might be a lot more out than I think at work, and no one said anything, I mean girls notice things just as much as guys do, but it doesn't exactly frighten me to push edges when no one says anything amiright. Some girls look at me funny now though, not a bad thing, they smile differently, something I have noticed that is really distinctive . . . 🤭 girls that never talked to me, especially younger ones, now do . . . it's still fearful baby steps though, but HRT is the moving walkway, and I am very close

I really need to learn how to do makeup better, and maybe not walk like a guy with places to go, rather more like a window shopping lady; and a few other things, but I guess what I am trying to say is that I am doing what my mother always taught me, to have the courage of my convictions. Some might say I am far too old, or worse yet a pretender, and it shames me to say I sometimes feel that way because I didn't pursue this long ago when I realized who I am, but I am proud of who I am today, and excited about where I am going, and dressing the part in public is now becoming an important part of that. I am nowhere near as far along as many people here, not even on HRT and not even close to living life as a woman, but one day soon . . . . I'm just so tired of living like people expect me to rather than how I want to portray myself. 💪 So damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead . . .

I want to thank all the friends here who have encouraged and inspired me to be my true self, your support and bravery means more than you know ❤ @crossdresserica @beingjamielynn @gymbunnycandiehart @livemyalter @becoming-who-ive-always-been @gladtobeagirl @jonextsteps @cd-christamae @cd-sherri