#the few people I’ve asked irl seem to not really get a grasp on it either.

[madds-is-ace-trash]

Can someone like explain Demigirls and Demiboys to me? I keep seeing them tagged in like character head canons . I wanna understand and I feel bad for not knowing. I’m not saying there not valid, I’m an ace trans man, queers unite, I just have never had it explained to me in a way that clicked. They just weren’t a thing that gets brought up in my spaces usually and I wanna get educated.

[woooyeahbaby]

post war levi with his doctor or nurse pls 👀

ABSOLUTELY coming right up.

warnings : gender neutral reader, 18+, handjob, very brief blowjob, reader is a swallower🗣️, patient/nurse dynamic obviously, slow-ish? and i feel like there’s not much smut sorry, lmk if any other warnings are needed! (oh also maybe me not being too specific with levi’s injuries cuz i kinda forgot them…)

a/n : i will get to my other levi rqs eventually.. admittedly this is my most recent one 😭 i’m not unmotivated, like i said i am out of writers block, i’ve just been tired and trying to focus on my relationships irl :)

oh also this is my first time writing smut in FOREVER😭

it was about time to check on captain levi again, realizing you’d spent quite a bit of time focusing on other patients. you felt bad, seeing as so much had happened all within that short amount of time.. the explosion, and then immediately after, the rumbling? you had to admit, levi is a strong man. seeing him so beat up hurt a little, despite not knowing him well.

you tap on the curtain surrounding his hospital bed a few times, quietly saying his name to ask for permission to enter the.. room. it’s hard to call it a room when it’s made of thin, floral printed fabric sheets hanging from the ceiling.

“come in.” his rough voice answers, and you hear him shifting to sit up straight in the bed.

“hi, captain levi. how’re you doing on pain at the moment? need anything?” you question, fixing the curtain behind you as you came closer to his bed, gently placing a hand on his ankle.

you definitely see him wince at the touch, but he doesn’t seem pained, perhaps just surprised. well, not many people would be brave enough to lay a hand on captain levi ackerman…

“i’m fine. and you don’t really have to call me captain. only the scouts do.” he waves his hand slightly off his lap, shaking his head.

“i do it out of respect, not because i feel obligated.” you smile softly at him, then shift your gaze to his more severely injured leg. “may i touch your leg?”

“..yeah, go ahead.” hearing that you have that level of respect for him made him feel something. not embarrassment, or pride, but something else he couldn’t quite grasp.

you gently feel his other ankle, pressing on it while your eyes stayed on his face as to check for any signs of pain. you carefully roll his ankle around, earning a grunt from the man.

“sorry. is it any better, or has it hurt the same amount since?” your hands now rest on his calf as you question him.

“it’s getting better. it’s fine, continue.” he clears his throat, his eyes — or, well, eye — never leaving your hands.

you nod, now pressing along his calf, still watching his face for signs of pain. this seemed to hurt more, seeing as he scrunched his nose, his eye narrowing.

“same question.” instead of standing at the end of his bed, you move up to the side, one hand still at his calf and the other at his knee.

“getting better. the doctor said it isn’t broken, just the bone is bruised pretty bad. don’t worry about it.” he seems a bit worried. “you.. don’t need to feel further than that. my upper leg is fine.”

“captain levi, you can’t tell me not to worry about it, i’m a nurse. i have to worry about every detail of these injuries.” you laugh softly. “and hey, didn’t the doctor say you pulled something in your thigh? of course i have to feel it. don’t worry, i won’t do anything other than see how much you’ve healed.”

“well—! i don’t think i pulled anything, i.. he did say that. but it’s better. i can say that right now.” it’s a strange sight to see captain levi flustered… but not an unpleasant one.

all you do is roll your eyes at his efforts to get you to leave it alone. as to not make it more difficult for him, you make it slow, but little do you know, that only makes it harder. in more ways than one.

at a particular spot on his upper thigh, he gasps, his muscles tensing under your touch. you rest your hands there, not pressing any further.

“and you said you’re fine?” you raise an eyebrow, seeing that he just contradicted himself.

“i am, i really am. it’s just.. i’m not used to people touching me. especially not.. in such a.. spot.” he cringes at himself, finally looking away as to hide his embarrassment.

“wh— ohh. in a bad way? is it uncomfortable?” you furrow your eyebrows now, genuinely curious as you didn’t want to offend him.

his lips press into a thin line as he shakes his head, his gaze returning to you, and then your hands.

“quite the opposite.” levi sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“then what’s the issue?” tilting your head at him out of pure confusion, you see him almost smile for a split second.

“it’s.. a little too comfortable.” he chuckles at himself, looking away once again.

it takes a moment for you to put 2 and 2 together, but once you realize what he means you can’t help but gasp. however.. your hands don’t move from his thigh.

“do you.. know what nurses are for, captain levi?” your voice is quieter now, your eyes unable to meet his out of pure shyness. “we’re here to help. so.. would you like for me to help you?”

you hear his breath catch in his throat at your offer, as he certainly expected you to he disgusted, or at least ignore what he said. but no.. you offered to help him. he felt ashamed, but.. how could he refuse?

“yes. yes please.” levi nods eagerly, his hands moving to the button of his pants before you stop him.

“let me.” you undo the button for him, unzipping the fly as well.

you assist him in lifting his hips up so you can pull his pants down just enough so they’re down to his thighs. they’re a little bruised, but you look past that and see the sheer muscle in them. you can’t believe you got to touch them. and you only get to touch more of him with what you’re doing…

making eye contact with him for a moment as to ask for permission to remove his boxers, he nods again, a slightly pink tint to his cheeks now. you look back down, slowly running a hand over his hard-on before hooking a finger in the grey material, pulling them until you could see every inch of his cock.

“i can’t do much other than use my hands, that’s okay, right?” you whisper, fearing being caught by another patient nearby or even another nurse or doctor.

levi simply nods, his breathing getting heavier with each movement you make. you spit onto your hand, then return it to his crotch. you run it up and down, causing him to cover his mouth with his own hand. you still hear his gasps, and a few groans trying to escape.

each time you reach the tip, his hips buck slightly, though not so much as he would feel pain due to his leg injuries. he must’ve really needed this, especially since he asked it of someone he barely knew outside of a few conversations here and there as they were only dropping off pain meds, or changing bandages.. it seemed very out of character, even to you.

he was already leaking pre-cum, quite a lot of it, at that. you had to admit, for a man as attractive as him, it was hard to believe he never got any action. of course, you aren’t his first, but he still probably hadn’t had something like this happen. that much was obvious, with how shy he seemed, and how fast he seems to be getting close.

levi removes his hand from his mouth, now clutching the sheets below him with it. “close, so close,” he whispers, clearly struggling to keep quiet.

you look around for something for him to release onto, but there was nothing quite convenient enough. so.. next best thing?

you bend over, placing only the tip in your mouth, continuing the fast movement of your hand as you slowly swirl your tongue around him. he sighs loudly, his hand quickly returning to his mouth as he coats the inside of your mouth with his cum. there was a lot to swallow, but you weren’t one to complain, really, especially not when it’s captain levi ackerman.

you pull away, licking your lips swiftly and wiping your hand on a paper towel in the corner of the room. wait a second, where were those when— ah, what’s done is done… you think, rolling your eyes at yourself for not realizing those only a few seconds earlier…

when you turn back around, levi’s face is beet red, his pants already up and buttoned. his breathing is still unsteady, as to be expected…

“thank you.” he mumbles, and you swear you see a tear run down his cheek.

“um.. anytime.” you laugh softly. “need anything else?”

“i’m.. i’m alright for now.” he replies quietly, shaking his head and placing his hands in his lap. “i might need help again tomorrow, though.”

“well, i’m here every day. i’ll check on you again soon.” and with that, you leave, unsure of whether to feel shameful and embarrassed, or extremely proud that you just made the captain levi cum.

(if you liked this then my requests are very much open!)

[lividstar]

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ Chapter Eight: A Great Friend

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 11.5k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Your day immediately turns eventful at the very second you open your eyes, receiving a congratulatory message from Hongjoong which was apparently because of your sudden popularity that skyrocketed overnight, following your first photoshoot. As you grapple with this sudden surge of attention, Seonghwa offers a welcome distraction by suggesting you assist Hongjoong with his designs for the upcoming autumn collection, all of which are still in progress.

a/n: apologies in advance, but it should probably be in your best interest to expect slow updates starting from now on 🥲 i’ve been getting busier and busier lately so it might take a little while to upload the following chapters ㅠㅠ lmk what you think about this chapter! reading people’s feedback cheers me up a lot, and i’d really appreciate them especially rn since i’m having a hard time haha

tags: @beabatiny

You awaken to the soft chime of a message notification, the early morning light casting a gentle glow in your room. Blinking away sleep, you reach for your phone on the bedside table, the screen glowing softly in the dim light. The message is from Hongjoong, and your heart skips a beat as you read it.

Seems like you got a good head start in the industry. Congratulations!

Confused, you sit up, rubbing your eyes and trying to make sense of his words. You quickly type back, asking him what was going on, as you had just woken up. Hongjoong’s response comes swiftly.

The pictures from your first photoshoot were uploaded last night and they’re currently going viral.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you hurriedly exit the conversation to check the social media platforms associated with Hongjoong’s brand. The notifications are overwhelming. As you scroll through the posts, your face appears repeatedly—each shot capturing a different angle of the Parisian venue, each pose more captivating than the last. The comments are a flurry of excitement and admiration. Each one is a testament to the impact the photos have had.

“Who is this stunning new face?”

“She looks like she stepped out of a painting!”

“Her expression is so captivating; I can’t stop looking!”

“Such a refreshing presence, she’s going to be huge!”

“She exudes this ethereal vibe—like a modern-day muse!”

If there was one thing you were expecting the moment you stepped into the industry, it was definitely not this. Well, you probably should’ve. Your hands tremble slightly as you continue scrolling, unable to fully grasp the scale of the attention. It’s surreal to see yourself through the eyes of so many strangers, each comment adding another layer to the overwhelming reality.

A hand ghosts over your mouth in shock, trying to stifle the gasp that escapes. “Is this real?” you whisper to yourself, the room around you suddenly feeling too small, too quiet compared to the roaring storm of notifications and messages on your phone.

Rushing to the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face, the chill jolting you awake. You even slap your cheeks lightly a few times, trying to dispel the surreal feeling that’s settled over you. The mirror reflects your wide-eyed expression, confirming that this is, in fact, happening. You stare at your reflection, the reality of your newfound attention slowly sinking in. It feels like stepping into another world, one where your life has suddenly taken a dramatic turn.

Still in a daze, you return to your bed, clutching your phone tightly. You reopen the conversation with Hongjoong, asking him if any of this was real. You could’ve just been having a highly realistic dream, for all you know. On the other side of the screen, Hongjoong can almost sense your disbelief.

As real as it can be.

But even through the text, you sense a smile, a quiet confidence in his words. Just as you’re beginning to process everything, your phone rings again. It's Seonghwa. His voice is warm, laced with a hint of amusement as he says, “You’re quite the hit lately. Have you heard of it?”

You let out a small laugh, still overwhelmed. “Yes, Hongjoong actually beat you to it.”

There’s a brief pause, and Seonghwa’s voice becomes thoughtful. “Hongjoong texted you first? That’s... unusual.”

“Huh?”

Seonghwa’s mind lingers on this revelation. Hongjoong, known for his reserved nature, seldom initiates contact with others. He was the type to keep his thoughts to himself, preferring the solitude of his creative processes. For him to reach out so directly is… well, it’s unexpected. He wonders if there’s more to this than meets the eye, but he quickly shakes off the thought, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

He continues, his tone lightening again, “Nevermind that. But seriously, congratulations! This is huge.”

You sigh, a mixture of happiness and anxiety bubbling up. “I still can’t believe all of this is real. It feels like things are progressing too quickly, and while I’m happy, there’s this overwhelming feeling somewhere deep inside.”

Seonghwa’s voice softens with empathy. “It’s completely normal to feel that way, especially since this all came out of nowhere. It can be a lot to take in at once.”

You nod, though he can’t see you, and explain your usual method of coping with major news—pushing it aside until you’re ready to fully process it. “So… what I’m saying is I kinda need to put that method to use right now. Is there anything I can help with over there? I need something to focus on, just to distract myself.”

Seonghwa thinks for a moment, considering your offer. “Well, you could help bring some of Hongjoong’s designs to life. Unfortunately, he rarely accepts help, preferring to work alone because it helps him focus. But I’ll mention it to him and see what he says.”

Seonghwa hangs up the phone, placing it gently on the table in front of him. The lounge area of the building is quiet, save for the soft hum of distant conversations and the occasional clink of cups. He leans back in his chair, lost in thought about the conversation he just had with you. Just then, as if on cue, Hongjoong strolls into the lounge, his presence commanding a subtle shift in the room's atmosphere. He spots Seonghwa and heads over, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Things are turning out well for her, aren’t they?” Hongjoong remarks, settling into the lounge chair across Seonghwa. His tone carries a hint of pride, and Seonghwa can see a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.

Seonghwa, remembering something from the call, tilts his head slightly. “You know, she mentioned you were the first to tell her about all the attention she’s getting. That’s... not exactly your usual style.”

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “What do you mean? I just wanted to congratulate her, that’s all.”

Seonghwa isn’t convinced and leans forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “You don’t even text first when it comes to both me and Wooyoung. What’s the deal?”

Hongjoong chuckles, shaking his head as if dismissing the notion. “It’s nothing. Just thought she should know.”

But Seonghwa isn’t buying the nonchalant act. His eyes narrow playfully, clearly intrigued by this rare deviation from Hongjoong’s usual behavior. Hongjoong, noticing the look, quickly grabs a crumpled paper from his blazer pocket and tosses it at Seonghwa, laughing. “Stop reading too much into it. There’s nothing there.”

Seonghwa catches the paper, laughing as well despite not being entirely convinced. He decides to change the subject, leaning back in his chair. “So, how are the designs for the autumn collection coming along?”

Hongjoong’s eyes light up at the mention of his work. “I’ve been making good progress with the tailoring and even started on some new designs. Though I left my sketchbook in my office today, I’ve got some photos of the pieces.”

He leans forward, pulling out his phone and handing it to Seonghwa. As Seonghwa scrolls through the images, he’s greeted with a series of designs that reflect the collection’s theme. The first few designs are ethereal yet grounded, capturing the essence of the season. There’s a long, flowing coat made of rich, burnt orange wool, adorned with delicate embroidery of falling leaves. The next outfit is a layered ensemble featuring a deep forest green velvet dress, cinched at the waist with a leather belt, and paired with a capelet that mimics the texture of fallen leaves.

Each piece exudes a sense of elegance and warmth, perfectly encapsulating the quiet beauty of autumn. The use of earthy tones, mixed with subtle metallic accents, creates a harmonious blend of nature-inspired elements and modern fashion. Seonghwa can see the meticulous attention to detail in every stitch and fold, each piece a testament to Hongjoong’s artistic vision. It was admirable, as always.

As he continues scrolling, Seonghwa’s eyes widen slightly when he stumbles upon an unexpected photo—a candid shot of you holding a cat, your face soft with a serene smile. It’s a stark contrast to the fashion designs, capturing a moment of unguarded warmth and simplicity. Seonghwa’s mind raced with questions, his curiosity piqued even further. Why does Hongjoong have this photo, and what does it signify?

Quickly, he scrolls back to the fashion designs, masking his surprise. He hands the phone back to Hongjoong, his expression composed but his thoughts swirling. “These are incredible, Hongjoong. The way you’ve captured the essence of autumn is truly impressive. I especially like the use of textures and the color palette—it feels very grounded yet still has that ethereal quality.”

Hongjoong nods, pleased with the feedback. “Thanks, I’ve been working on capturing that balance. Autumn has this quiet, reflective beauty, and I wanted that to come through in the designs.”

Seonghwa nods thoughtfully, but his mind lingers on the photo he saw. He can’t help but wonder if there’s something more going on between you and Hongjoong, something beneath the surface that he hasn’t yet understood. As he hands the phone back, he decides to keep this little discovery to himself, at least for now, storing it away as something to discuss with Wooyoung later.

Clearing his throat, Seonghwa leans forward, his tone thoughtful. “You know, I was talking to her earlier, and she mentioned feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the sudden exposure. It’s a lot for anyone to handle, especially someone so new to the industry. She was wondering if there might be any way she could help with the tailoring of the designs. Not only to get some practical experience but also to have something to focus on, something to keep her grounded while everything else is so chaotic.”

Hongjoong listens intently, his expression contemplative. Seonghwa continues, “I know you usually prefer to work alone, to have complete control over your creative process. And I get that—it’s part of what makes your designs so unique. But maybe just this once, it could be beneficial to have an extra pair of hands. She’s genuinely interested in learning and contributing, and I think it could be a good experience for both of you.”

As Seonghwa speaks, he watches Hongjoong closely, trying to gauge his reaction. Before he can elaborate further, Hongjoong cuts him off with a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind at all. We can start tomorrow.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. That was a quick agreement, far quicker than he expected. “Good, alright. I’ll inform her,” Seonghwa says, still processing Hongjoong’s easy acquiescence. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, almost tentatively, “Or do you want to do it instead...?”

Hongjoong’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Seonghwa quickly waves him off, standing up from his seat. “Oh, no, no, nothing. I’ll let her know.” He makes a quick exit, leaving a bewildered Hongjoong behind, still puzzled over the odd exchange.

As Seonghwa strides towards the elevator, the gears in his mind are turning. The ease with which Hongjoong agreed to your involvement, coupled with the candid photo and the early morning text, is starting to form a pattern in Seonghwa’s mind—a pattern that suggests something more than just professional interest.

As the elevator doors open, Seonghwa is met by Wooyoung, who looks ready to step out. Without a second thought, Seonghwa gently but firmly shoves Wooyoung back inside, pressing the button for the floor where his office is located.

“What the hell—” Wooyoung begins, startled by the abruptness of Seonghwa's actions.

Seonghwa cuts him off, a serious look on his face. “There’s something important we need to discuss. Just trust me.”

Wooyoung, sensing the gravity in Seonghwa’s tone, complies without further protest. As they reach Seonghwa’s office, Seonghwa gestures for Wooyoung to double-check the lock on the door, ensuring their privacy. “Just in case Hongjoong walks in.”

Wooyoung complies, yet thete was a puzzled look on his face. “Hongjoong? What does he have to do with this?”

They settled into Seonghwa’s office, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. Seonghwa starts, his tone hushed. “Alright, so get this: Hongjoong texted her first thing this morning to congratulate her on the viral photos. Can you believe that?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise. “No way! Hongjoong? Mr. ‘I-Don’t-Do-Small-Talk’? Like, for real?”

Seonghwa nods, his expression mirroring Wooyoung’s shock. “For real. And it gets better. He even had a candid photo of her on his phone. You know, not a posed shot or anything, just her holding a cat. She looked so natural and relaxed. I accidentally saw it while scrolling through his design pictures.”

Wooyoung leans forward, clearly intrigued. “A candid photo? From Hongjoong? That’s... well, I definitely didn’t see that coming. What else did you see?” he asked, pushing for more details.

Seonghwa goes into a contemplative gaze. “That’s the thing, Wooyoung. He never keeps personal photos like that. And then, when I mentioned her feeling overwhelmed by all the attention, he was totally understanding. And, get this, he agreed to let her help with the tailoring for his autumn collection without even hesitating.”

Wooyoung's eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa, hold on. Doesn’t he literally hate people interfering with his work? What do you mean he agreed just like that?”

Seonghwa holds his hands up, still a bit in disbelief himself. “That’s what I don’t get either. No arguments, no reservations. Just ‘sure, she can start tomorrow.’ It’s so out of character for him. Usually, he’s all about keeping things strictly professional and handling everything himself.”

Wooyoung leans back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “So, let me get this straight. Hongjoong, who never texts first, texts her before anyone else. He’s got a candid, personal photo of her on his phone. And now, he’s okay with her helping out with his designs? That’s…”

Seonghwa nods. “Exactly. And when I asked him about texting her, he brushed it off, saying he just wanted to congratulate her. But I know Hongjoong. He doesn’t do things like this for just anyone. Hell, he doesn’t even text us first, and we've known him for years.”

Wooyoung grins, clearly entertained. “So, what do you think? Is he interested in her? It sure sounds like it.” This was definitely worth the gossip drought that lasted for weeks.

Seonghwa shrugs, though his eyes gleam with curiosity. “I don’t know, but it’s definitely out of the ordinary. I mean, Hongjoong’s not one to show personal interest in anyone, let alone a model he just met.”

Wooyoung clasps his hands together, shaking his head. “This is going to be interesting. We should keep an eye on this. Maybe they’re just friends, or maybe there’s something more. Either way, it’s unusual for Hongjoong.”

Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchange a knowing glance, an idea slowly taking root in Wooyoung's mind. He leans forward, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “You know,” Wooyoung begins, “we could give them a little nudge. Like, play matchmaker. It could be fun.”

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, hesitating. “We shouldn’t make things awkward between them. What if they’re just forming a friendship? We don’t want to overstep.”

Wooyoung waves off the concern, his enthusiasm undeterred. “I get that, but think about it. Most great love stories start with friendship, right? They’re already getting along well, and there’s clearly something different about how Hongjoong is acting lately. Maybe it’s worth exploring.”

Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head with a faint smile. “You’re incorrigible, you know that? But I suppose you have a point. It’s just... Hongjoong’s been very private about his personal life. We shouldn’t push him into something he’s not ready for.”

Wooyoung nods thoughtfully. “Well, yeah, but he’s been alone for as long as I’ve known him. He’s always so independent and hardworking, constantly putting the company and his designs first. Wouldn’t it be nice for him to have someone who reminds him to take a breather, to enjoy life a little?”

Seonghwa looks away, pondering Wooyoung’s words. He knows that Hongjoong is fiercely dedicated to his work, often to the point of neglecting his own well-being. It’s a quality they all admire, but it also worries them. Hongjoong’s solitary nature, while admirable in its focus, sometimes seemed to be a shield against something deeper.

At the same time, a part of Seonghwa agrees with Wooyoung. Hongjoong deserves to experience love, to be taught what it means to love and be loved in return. To have someone who sees past the professional facade and connects with him on a deeper level. Hongjoong has always been the rock for everyone else, the leader who guides and supports, but who supports him? Seonghwa knows that beneath Hongjoong’s calm exterior is someone who longs for a connection, even if he doesn’t consciously acknowledge it.

Seonghwa finally exhales, nodding in agreement. “Alright, maybe you’re right. He does deserve that chance. But we need to be subtle, okay? We can’t just throw them into situations and expect magic to happen.”

Wooyoung grins, practically bouncing in his seat. “Of course, of course. We’ll be subtle. Well, as subtle as we can be.” He chuckles, already plotting. “We could start with simple things. Like arranging for them to spend more time together, under the guise of work, of course.”

Seonghwa nods, though he can’t help but smile at Wooyoung’s eagerness. „Fine, but let’s keep this quiet. The last thing we need is Hongjoong finding out and feeling pressured or uncomfortable. We’ll just... create opportunities for them to bond naturally?”

Wooyoung’s eyes light up with excitement. “Yes, exactly! This is going to be great. Just trust me on this one.”

Seonghwa sighs, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “Alright, but no wild schemes, okay? We’re not in a rom-com here.”

Wooyoung laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “No wild schemes.”

—

The sound of fabric being meticulously fed through the sewing machine filled the room, but despite the soft hum, your mind was anything but calm. The task at hand was supposed to be a distraction from the whirlwind of unexpected fame and the gnawing anxiety about potential backlash—something that often follows a sudden rise to internet prominence. However, the complexities of threading needles and manipulating fabrics were proving to be more challenging than anticipated. You couldn’t help but think that perhaps this was a bad idea, a sentiment only reinforced by the knots of frustration building in your stomach.

Hongjoong had stepped out to go to the restroom for a moment, giving you a brief respite. It was just enough time to let out a sigh of frustration, your hands pausing their clumsy movements. You were aware of how out of your depth you were, fumbling with the sewing machine in a way that likely confirmed his suspicions. He had asked several times if you needed help, always with a gentle tone that hinted at his concern. But pride—or perhaps a stubborn streak—had kept you from admitting just how lost you felt.

“Maybe I should’ve just volunteered to be burned at the stake in a Salem witch trial—”

“Are you alright?” Hongjoong’s voice sliced through your musings, making you jump slightly. You straightened up quickly, feigning concentration as you adjusted the fabric under the needle. The effort was futile; the moment Hongjoong leaned over your shoulder, his hand resting gently on yours, your cool façade crumbled.

His close proximity, the soft warmth of his hand, and the subtle, intoxicating scent of his cologne were all too distracting. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I’m gonna need you to answer it in full honesty. Is that okay?”

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting from his hand to his face and then back to the sewing machine. “I... um... sure, go ahead,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice at bay.

“Do you know how to use a sewing machine?” he asked, his tone patient yet direct.

You winced, slumping in your seat as you covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. “I thought it would be easy,” you admitted, your voice muffled by your palms. “But I had no idea it would be so... intricate? I think I’ve used up half my patience already.”

Before you could spiral further into self-recrimination, Hongjoong’s soft laughter broke the tension. It was a soothing sound, yet its proximity sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. He pulled a chair over and sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. You kept your eyes fixed on the sewing machine, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“Don’t worry,” he said gently, taking your hand in his once more. “Everyone starts somewhere. Let me guide you through it.”

“Alright, let’s start with the basics,” he began, his voice warm and steady. “First, we need to thread the machine properly. It can be a bit tricky at first, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes second nature.”

He gently guided your fingers to the spool pin, showing you how to place the thread. “Make sure the thread is placed securely here,” he explained, his hand lingering over yours for a moment. “Then, we’ll pull it through the tension disks. This part is crucial because it controls the tension of your stitches. If it’s too loose or too tight, your fabric might bunch up or the stitches might break.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his instructions rather than the slight warmth of his hand. “Got it,” you murmured, glancing at him again. His eyes were intent on the machine, but there was a softness in his gaze.

“Next, we bring the thread down here,” he continued, guiding your hand to the take-up lever. “This part moves up and down as you sew, pulling the thread through the fabric. It’s important to make sure the thread is seated properly in the eye of the lever.”

You tried to mimic his movements, your fingers fumbling slightly. He caught your hesitation and gently corrected your grip, his touch light but firm. “Like this,” he demonstrated, pulling the thread through the lever with practiced ease. “See? It’s all about smooth, even motions.”

You nodded again, feeling a bit more confident but still acutely aware of the slight tension in the air. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just... different. “And finally, we guide the thread through the needle,” he said, his voice low and patient. “This part can be a bit tricky, especially if the needle’s eye is small. Just take your time and don’t rush.”

As you attempted to thread the needle, your hand shook slightly, and you fumbled with the delicate thread. Hongjoong leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he steadied your hand. “Here, let me help,” he offered, his tone gentle. He carefully guided the thread through the needle’s eye, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

“There we go,” he said with a satisfied smile, leaning back a bit. “Now, let’s get to the sewing part. Start by placing the fabric under the presser foot, like this.” He demonstrated, his hands guiding yours to position the fabric correctly. “Make sure it’s aligned straight with the needle and the edge of the foot.”

You followed his instructions, your eyes focused on the machine but your mind wandering slightly. There was something about this whole situation—the quiet focus, the close proximity, the shared task—that felt nice. You couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of self-consciousness, wondering if he could sense your awkwardness.

“Now, gently press the pedal to start the machine,” Hongjoong instructed, his hand still lightly resting on yours. “Don’t go too fast; just a slow, steady pace. That’ll give you more control.”

You did as he said, the machine whirring to life as you guided the fabric through. Hongjoong watched closely, offering occasional tips and corrections. “Try to keep your hands steady,” he advised. “And remember, it’s okay to stop and readjust if you need to.”

“Okay, got it,” you replied, focusing intently on the fabric and the machine’s needle. But despite your best efforts, you could feel your heart beating a little faster, your palms slightly sweaty. It was all so new, and the added pressure of having Hongjoong right there, guiding you, was both comforting and nerve-wracking.

As you continued to sew, the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm. Hongjoong’s instructions were clear and patient, and his occasional praise—“Good, that’s perfect,” or “You’re getting the hang of it”—helped to ease your nerves. Still, there were moments when you couldn’t help but feel a slight, almost imperceptible tension. It wasn’t unpleasant, just a subtle awareness of his presence, of the closeness between you as he guided your hands and offered gentle encouragement.

After a few more passes, he smiled at you, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “You’re doing really well,” he said, giving your hand a light squeeze before releasing it. “Just keep practicing, and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

You smiled back, feeling a mix of relief and a strange, fluttering excitement. “Thanks, Hongjoong,” you said, your voice a bit softer than you intended. “I really appreciate your help.”

As you continued to practice, the room was filled with a quiet focus, the sound of the sewing machine blending with the soft rustle of fabrics and the occasional tap of Hongjoong’s fingers on the table as he worked on his designs. The space was filled with mannequins adorned with various pieces in different stages of completion, each a testament to his creativity and skill.

Hongjoong stood by one of the mannequins, testing out different fabrics and adjusting the drape of a garment. It was a half-finished piece, a beautiful autumn-inspired dress, rich with deep, warm hues and delicate detailing. The design was stunning even in its incomplete state, with layers of fabric cascading down in elegant folds. The room, spacious and filled with natural light, was a perfect backdrop for his work, highlighting the textures and colors of his creations.

As you worked, you found yourself unconsciously humming. It was a habit you’d developed over the years, a way to keep yourself company during moments of concentration. The tune was “La Vie en Rose,” a classic melody that had always been a favorite of yours. Lost in the rhythm of your work, you didn’t notice Hongjoong glancing over his shoulder, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he recognized the song.

The peaceful atmosphere continued until you completed your practice piece, checking the fabric carefully. To your delight, it was flawless, and you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp of triumph. You looked up, catching Hongjoong’s eye as he turned towards you, clearly curious about your reaction.

“I think I’m ready to help out,” you announced, holding up the fabric proudly.

Hongjoong smiled, a warm and encouraging expression on his face. “Really? Let's get to work, then.”

You quickly tidied up your workspace, eager to join him. As you approached, you got a closer look at the dress he was working on. It was even more beautiful up close, with detailed stitching and a careful blend of textures. The design was both modern and timeless, capturing the essence of autumn with its rich color palette and sophisticated lines.

On the table next to the mannequin, you noticed Hongjoong’s sketchbook. The sketches inside were detailed and precise, showcasing his vision for the final piece. You couldn’t help but compliment him, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “This looks incredible, Hongjoong. The sketches were already amazing, but seeing it come to life... It’s even better.”

He waved off your praise modestly, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s not even halfway done yet,” he said, glancing at the dress. “There’s still a lot of work to do. That’s where your help comes in.”

He gestured towards the dress, explaining his vision for the piece. “I need to work on the intricate details around the neckline and sleeves. There’s a specific embroidery pattern I want to incorporate, but it requires a steady hand and a lot of patience. I thought we could split the tasks—I’ll focus on the main body of the dress, and you can help with the embroidery.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “I’d love to help with the embroidery. It sounds like a challenge, but I’m up for it.”

Hongjoong smiled, clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. “Great. I’ll show you the pattern and we can go over the details together. It’s important to get the proportions and spacing just right, especially since the embroidery will be a key feature of the design.”

“For this part,” he said, pointing to a section on the sketch, “we’ll use a simple running stitch to outline the design. It’s straightforward but effective, especially for creating clean lines. The trick is to keep your stitches consistent in length. If they’re too short or too long, it can throw off the balance of the pattern.”

As he demonstrated, you watched closely, noting the way his fingers moved deftly with the needle and thread. His attention to detail was impressive, and it was clear that every element of the design had been carefully considered.

“Next, we’ll add some texture with a chain stitch,” Hongjoong continued, switching to another part of the design. “It’s great for creating a sense of depth and can really make certain areas pop. You’ll want to keep your tension even, not too tight or too loose, so the stitches sit nicely against the fabric.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but notice the passion in his eyes. It was evident in the way he talked about each technique, his dedication to his craft shining through. There was something incredibly admirable about his focus and commitment, and it made you feel even more determined to do your best.

Once you both began working, the conversation naturally shifted to lighter topics. Hongjoong broke the comfortable silence first, glancing over at you with a curious expression. “By the way, earlier... you were humming a song. Was it ‘La Vie en Rose’?”

You blinked, momentarily confused. You hadn’t even realized you were humming. “Oh, was I…? Yeah, that’s a favorite of mine,” you admitted with a small chuckle, recalling the familiar melody. “My dad used to play it all the time when I was younger. He had this old recorder, and ‘La Vie en Rose’ was always his go-to song. I guess it just stuck with me.”

Hongjoong listened attentively, a soft smile forming on his lips. “It’s a beautiful song. There’s something timeless about it.”

You nodded, feeling a warm nostalgia wash over you. “Yeah, it’s one of those songs that just... helps me focus. I hum it when I’m trying to concentrate, and sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it.”

As you shared your story, Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on you, a subtle fondness in his eyes. He seemed genuinely interested, as if he enjoyed hearing about these little aspects of your life. When you looked up from your work, catching his eye, he quickly averted his gaze, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

You smiled, amused by the small moment of shyness. “Do you have a favorite artist?”

Hongjoong’s eyes lit up at the question. “David Bowie,” he replied without hesitation.

“Really? Great choice,” you said, your admiration clear in your tone. “How did you get into his music?”

Hongjoong leaned back slightly, reminiscing. “Back in my school days, a friend of mine always shared their earphones with me. They had a playlist full of David Bowie songs, and I just... got hooked. His music was so different from anything else I’d heard at the time.”

“Was it Seonghwa?” you asked, curious.

Hongjoong shook his head, a faint, nostalgic smile playing on his lips. “No, it was someone else. We’ve… lost touch over the years.”

Before you could ask more, your phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with a notification from an app you rarely used. Hongjoong glanced at the screen and recognized the image on your lockscreen. “You set that as your wallpaper?” he asked, a note of amusement in his voice as he saw the candid photo he had taken of you and the cat.

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I couldn’t resist. It’s just too cute not to use as my lockscreen.”

Hongjoong chuckled, clearly pleased. “How’s the little guy doing?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” you replied with a grin. “Running away from me and munching on the flowers in our landlord’s garden. He’s a real troublemaker.”

Hongjoong laughed at this, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s hard to imagine him being so mischievous. He looked so sweet and innocent when I saw him.”

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Maybe you should come by again sometime and see for yourself just how mischievous he can be.”

Hongjoong paused, momentarily caught off guard. Was that an invitation? The way you said it, with a casual laugh, made it seem like a harmless joke. But there was a part of him that wondered if there was more to it. He quickly dismissed the thought, reminding himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

As you continued working on the embroidery, a sudden sharp pain shot through your finger. A fairly large needle had slipped through your grasp, piercing your skin and drawing a bead of blood. You hissed in pain, “Ow!”

Hongjoong immediately turned his attention away from the dress, concern etched across his face as he took a few quick steps toward you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft yet filled with urgency. “Let me see your hand.”

You extended your injured hand toward him, wincing as you saw the small but painful wound. Hongjoong frowned, setting your hand gently on the table. “Hold on a moment,” he said, heading over to one of the drawers where he kept a first aid kit. He quickly retrieved the necessary supplies, including antiseptic wipes, a bandage, and some ointment.

Returning to your side, he crouched down to be at eye level with you. When you made a move to stand, thinking you should let him take the seat, he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, guiding you to sit back down. “Stay put,” he instructed softly, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he focused on your injured finger.

Hongjoong took your hand with a surprising tenderness, carefully cleaning the wound. “You’ve got to be more careful next time, alright?” he said, his tone gentle yet firm.

You nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” He looked up at you and smiled, a small, reassuring curve of his lips that made your heart flutter unexpectedly. He then returned his focus to your finger, diligently applying ointment and wrapping it with a bandage.

As he worked, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on his face. The way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the soft lines of his features... It struck you how effortlessly handsome he was, even in such a simple moment. You found yourself thinking that models must be relieved he chose to become a fashion designer instead of competing with them in front of the camera.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly blurted out, “Your lashes look pretty.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, catching both you and Hongjoong by surprise.

He paused, then chuckled, clearly amused. “No, I mean, sorry,” you quickly tried to recover, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I just have this habit of accidentally saying things out loud that are supposed to stay in my head...”

Hongjoong’s laugh, warm and genuine, cuts off your rambling. “It’s alright,” he said, still chuckling softly. “I’m flattered.”

As he continued tending to your wound, you noticed the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when he smiled, and how his presence seemed to have a calming effect on you, even when you felt like you were spiraling. You realized that he had probably picked up on your tendency to speak in a single breath whenever you were nervous or flustered—a trait you found a bit embarrassing, but he seemed to find endearing. It’s a little strange.

“Tell you what,” Hongjoong began, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked up at you. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll share one of my unsaid thoughts too.”

You tilted your head, intrigued and a little wary. “I’d appreciate that,” you said, though you weren’t sure what to expect.

Hongjoong smiled, finishing up the bandage on your finger. “I think you look pretty.”

The words hit you like a gentle wave, unexpected yet disarming. You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. Did he… did he really just call you pretty? Your mind raced, heart pounding as you tried to find a response. Was he just being nice? Or was there something more to it? Maybe he was joking? Or not, given his sincere gaze? You felt your cheeks heating up again, and you could barely string together a coherent thought.

As you stared at him, wide-eyed and flustered, Hongjoong laughed softly at your reaction. “Sorry,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “Didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”

You knew from the look in his eyes and the slight smirk on his lips that he definitely meant to say that.

You both returned to your respective tasks, but focusing proved more difficult than before. Your heart raced, and every so often, your thoughts drifted back to Hongjoong’s unexpected compliment. It lingered in your mind, making it hard to concentrate on the delicate stitches you were working on. The realization of why your heart was fluttering was something you preferred to push aside for now, not wanting to dwell on the implications.

Meanwhile, outside the room, hushed whispers filled the corridor, inaudible to you and Hongjoong inside. Wooyoung, eyes wide and a hand covering his mouth, turned to Seonghwa beside him. “So...” he began, trying to process what they had just overheard.

Seonghwa met Wooyoung’s gaze with a similar look of surprise. “No way. Are they really...”

Wooyoung furrowed his brows in contemplation. “But if they were together, wouldn’t she have responded with something flirty? Like, you know, bantering back?”

Seonghwa shook his head, disagreeing. “She’s not that type of person. Not from what I’ve seen.”

Wooyoung pointed out, “Yeah, but when she told him his lashes looked pretty, she started apologizing like crazy. Would she do that if they were dating?”

Seonghwa considered this, then shook his head again. “Uh… no, definitely not. It’s not every day someone apologizes for complimenting their partner.”

“So... what’s the deal with them?” Wooyoung asked, genuinely puzzled.

Seonghwa shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face. “I think they’re just friends, but there’s definitely something more simmering beneath the surface. You can feel the chemistry, even from out here.”

Wooyoung nodded, his curiosity piqued. “The awkward tension between them definitely supports your theory. That’s how these things usually start, right?”

He paused, then added with a mischievous grin, “Do we even need to play matchmaker? It feels like they’re figuring it out on their own.”

Seonghwa laughed softly, a sound almost lost in the quiet hallway, but Wooyoung quickly hushed him. “Shh, we can’t let them know we’re here!”

Wooyoung then pondered aloud, “Now that I think about it, they would make a cute couple. Imagine being a model and dating the creative director of the brand you’re working for... It’s like something out of a romance movie.”

Seonghwa nodded in agreement, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s only a matter of time before he starts designing pieces specifically for her, just like he used to—”

Their conversation was abruptly cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps from inside the room. Panicking, Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchanged wide-eyed looks before quickly scurrying away, eager to avoid getting caught eavesdropping on their friend’s private moment.

Hongjoong spared a glance at both sides of the hall, a confused expression on his face. “I could’ve sworn I heard something from out here…”

—

A couple of weeks passed, and although the internet buzz surrounding you hadn’t entirely died down, you managed to keep yourself distracted from any concerns about potential media backlash. The credit for this went to Hongjoong, who had embraced your offer to assist with his designs. This partnership provided you both with a creative outlet and a much-needed escape from the spotlight.

You stood before the now-completed outfit you had both worked on, admiring the intricate details and the seamless blend of fabrics. “It’s stunning,” you remarked, your voice filled with awe. “I can’t believe how beautiful it turned out.”

Hongjoong smiled warmly at your words, pride evident in his eyes. “You should take some credit too,” he replied. “I genuinely think it wouldn’t have looked this good if I had done it all alone. Your input was invaluable.”

His compliment made you feel shy, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Well, if you ever need a hand in the future, I’d be more than happy to help,” you offered, your voice slightly timid.

“I’d like that,” Hongjoong murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. An idea seemed to cross his mind, and he looked at you with a glint of excitement. “How about I take you out to dinner tonight? You deserve a proper thank you for all your help. It’s not every day someone offers their time and skill like you did, and I’d like to show my appreciation in a way that’s more than just words.”

You started to shake your head, feeling that such a gesture was too much. “Oh, you really don’t have to. It’s nothing, really...”

But Hongjoong was persistent—as he always seemed to be. He smiled reassuringly, his tone firm yet gentle. “Nonsense. You’ve done more than enough to earn a nice evening out. So, let me treat you. I’ll pick you up from your apartment around eight. Just be ready.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his insistence, knowing you wouldn’t win this argument. “Alright, alright,” you conceded. “But I’m not expecting you to take me anywhere high-end.”

Hongjoong’s smile grew a little mischievous. “Maybe I will be,” he teased, refusing to give a clear answer. “Just be ready, and leave the rest to me.”

A part of you wondered if this dinner had been on his mind for a while, but you pushed that thought aside, nodding in agreement. Your phone buzzed with a message from Madame Dupont, urgently informing you that Pompidou was scratching at your apartment door. Your eyes widened, and you quickly told Hongjoong, “Oh no. I’ve got to go. See you tonight!” before rushing out.

Hongjoong watched you leave, a bemused expression on his face. He shrugged lightly and turned back to the outfit on the mannequin, admiring the final product one last time before heading back to his office. When he arrived, he found Wooyoung lounging comfortably in his chair, looking as if he belonged there.

“Sometimes I wonder if this office belongs to you or me,” Hongjoong mused, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

Wooyoung grinned cheekily. “It’s not my fault your office is so comfy. Anyway, are you free tonight? I need someone to go grocery shopping with me,” he whined dramatically. “My fridge is empty, and I feel like I might starve to death.”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, maybe next time. I’ve got plans tonight.”

Wooyoung’s curiosity piqued, his eyes narrowing with interest and a mischievous glint in them. “Plans? With who?”

Hongjoong hesitated for a moment, knowing where this conversation was headed. “With her,” he finally said, referring to you. “I’m taking her out to dinner to thank her for helping me with the designs.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, a playful glint appearing in them. He leaned forward, his expression full of intrigue and mischief, as if he had just discovered the juiciest piece of gossip. “Oh? Really? Just the two of you?” he teased, his voice dripping with implication.

Hongjoong sighed, deadpanning, “I know that look, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a grin spreading across his face. “So, is this a date?” he asked, stretching the last word with a teasing tone.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. “No, it’s not a date. It’s just a dinner to say thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” Wooyoung drawled, clearly not buying it. “You hesitated. You’ve got to admit there’s something there. The way you two have been spending time together...”

Hongjoong shook his head, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re reading too much into it. It’s just dinner.”

“Just dinner?” Wooyoung echoed, disbelief lacing his tone. “You don’t take just anyone to a fancy restaurant, do you? I mean, I can’t remember the last time you took me to a nice place, and I’m practically your best friend.”

“It’s not about the restaurant,” Hongjoong insisted, though he couldn’t help but chuckle at Wooyoung’s theatrics. “It’s about appreciating her help.”

Wooyoung leaned back, crossing his arms with a knowing grin. “Sure, just dinner. But you don’t have to dress up for ‘just dinner,’ do you? Or pick her up personally? It’s almost like... I don’t know, like a date?”

Hongjoong could feel himself being cornered, yet he maintained his stance. “It’s not a date, Wooyoung. It’s a gesture of appreciation. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Wooyoung leaned in closer, his grin widening. “Oh, I see. So, if she shows up looking stunning and you two have a great time, it still won’t be a date?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re dodging the question,” Wooyoung shot back, laughing. “But seriously, it’s great that you’re taking her out. You two would look good together.”

Hongjoong shook his head again, though his smile remained. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Wooyoung grinned. “But hey, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Well, let everyone think what they want. We’re just friends.”

“For now,” Wooyoung teased, his voice sing-song. “But you know, friends can become more. It’s like a... pre-date.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Pre-date?”

Wooyoung nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Like a test run. You get to see how you feel about it, how she feels about it. It’s perfect! And if it goes well, who knows? Maybe it’ll turn into something more.”

“You’re really reaching here,” Hongjoong said, though he couldn’t help but laugh. “But I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

“Well, someone has to be enthusiastic about your love life,” Wooyoung quipped, grinning. “You’re too busy being all serious and professional.”

Hongjoong shook his head, still smiling. “I think I can manage my own love life, thank you very much.”

“Sure, sure,” Wooyoung replied, waving his hand dismissively. “But just remember, if it turns into a real date, I called it first.”

Hongjoong laughed, finally giving in to the lighthearted teasing. “Fine, you can have the credit if it does. But for now, it’s just dinner.”

“Just dinner,” Wooyoung repeated, still grinning. “We’ll see about that.”

Hours later, Wooyoung was proven right as he and Seonghwa found themselves in Hongjoong’s penthouse, assisting him in choosing the perfect outfit. The room was filled with various clothing options—jackets, shirts, pants—scattered across the furniture. Hongjoong stood before a full-length mirror, trying on a sleek dark blue suit that accentuated his figure.

“He kept insisting it’s not a date, but look at him now,” Wooyoung whispered to Seonghwa, chuckling as they observed Hongjoong’s meticulous attention to detail. He adjusted his tie, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Maybe he just didn’t want to admit it’s a date because then he’d have to acknowledge it’s the first time he’s taken someone to a fancy restaurant,” Seonghwa whispered back, both of them stifling laughter. The idea that Hongjoong was fussing over an outfit over an occasion he swears isn’t a date was both endearing and amusing.

Hongjoong turned to them, an unamused expression on his face. “Are you two going to help me decide which of these looks more presentable, or are you going to keep gossiping about me even when I’m right in front of you?”

“The latter,” both Wooyoung and Seonghwa replied in unison, causing Hongjoong to roll his eyes with a sigh of resignation.

“Alright, alright, let’s get serious,” Wooyoung said, standing up from the bed. He approached Hongjoong, scrutinizing the suit. The tailored fit and elegant fabric gave off a sophisticated vibe, yet it felt a bit too formal for the occasion. “Maybe something a bit less formal?” Wooyoung suggested, tilting his head in contemplation.

As Seonghwa was about to offer his opinion, his phone buzzed with a message notification. Glancing down, he saw it was from you, containing photos of two different outfits with a message.

Which one looks better?

Seonghwa smiled, knowing you hadn’t mentioned the dinner to him but aware of it nonetheless. You probably thought he was unaware of the plan. He quickly assessed the outfits you sent, noticing that the second—a chic, knee-length dress with elegant detailing—would pair perfectly with one of the outfits Hongjoong had yet to try on. Without revealing his thoughts, he texted back, “Go for the second one,” before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Hongjoong, try on the dark black suit with the silk dress shirt of the same color,” Seonghwa suggested, nodding towards the outfit laid out on the couch. The combination was stylish yet not overly formal, balancing sophistication with a touch of modern flair.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow but complied, heading to the bathroom to change. When he returned, the outfit fit him perfectly, the deep blue contrasting nicely with his complexion and highlighting his eyes. Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchanged satisfied looks.

Seonghwa walked towards him, undoing the first two buttons. Once he was done, he stepped back and nodded approvingly. “You should wear that one.”

Hongjoong looked puzzled. “Why this one?”

Seonghwa simply smiled, shaking his head. “Just trust me on this one,” he insisted, not revealing that the choice was to complement your outfit.

Meanwhile, you were at home, finishing up your preparations. After much deliberation, you had chosen the outfit Seonghwa recommended. The dress was elegant yet understated, perfect for an evening out without feeling too over the top. You sat on your bed, waiting for Hongjoong’s message, your heart fluttering with anticipation and nerves. As the clock struck 8 PM, your phone buzzed with a message from him.

I’m outside.

You quickly grabbed your purse, slipped your phone inside, and made sure to lock your apartment door before heading down to the ground floor.

Stepping outside, you were greeted by the sight of Hongjoong leaning casually against his car, his eyes focused on his phone. The soft glow of the streetlights highlighted his sharp features—the strong jawline, the soft curve of his lips, and the way his hair was neatly styled. The suit he wore brought out his eyes, making them seem even more captivating in the dim light.

“Hongjoong?” you called out, your voice slightly hesitant. He looked up immediately, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, his expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face as he took in your appearance.

As you walked over to him, you could see the admiration in his eyes. He seemed momentarily taken aback by how beautiful you looked, the dress flattering your figure in all the right ways. The elegant fabric and subtle detailing accentuated your features without being too flashy. “Hi,” you greeted him, offering a shy smile.

Instead of a typical greeting, Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on you, and he finally spoke, his voice soft but sincere. “You look beautiful.”

You laughed lightly, feeling a flush of warmth at his compliment. “Isn’t that supposed to be an unsaid thought?”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “Not tonight, it isn’t.”

He moved to the passenger side of the car, opening the door with a gentlemanly gesture. “After you,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere. You thanked him, slipping into the car, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He closed the door gently, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in.

As the car pulled away, you found yourself gazing out the window, mesmerized by the city’s beauty. The streets were alive with lights, the architecture blending old-world charm with modern elegance. The cityscape seemed to sparkle, creating a romantic and enchanting atmosphere. “Paris is so beautiful...” you whispered, almost in awe of the city’s charm.

Hongjoong glanced over at you, smiling. “It is, isn’t it?” he agreed, his tone reflecting the warmth of your admiration.

The drive continued in comfortable silence, the city's lights creating a mesmerizing backdrop. Eventually, the car came to a stop in front of a high-end restaurant. The building exudes elegance, with large windows showcasing the warm, inviting interior. You looked over at Hongjoong, a hint of hesitation in your eyes. You weren’t used to such fancy places, and the grandeur of the setting made you feel slightly nervous.

Hongjoong noticed your unease and offered you a reassuring smile, his eyes filled with warmth. “It’s going to be great,” he said softly, his voice calming your nerves. He stepped out of the car and walked around to open your door, offering his hand to help you out.

Inside, the restaurant was elegantly decorated, with soft lighting and tasteful decor creating an intimate atmosphere. A waiter greeted you both with a warm smile. “Good evening, sir, madam. Welcome to Le Ciel de Paris,” he said, his voice professional. “May I say, you look lovely this evening, miss,” he added, glancing at you appreciatively.

Hongjoong nodded in acknowledgment, and the waiter led you to the highest floor—a stunning rooftop with a breathtaking view of the city. The night sky was a canvas of deep blues and purples, dotted with stars. A reserved table awaited you, set with fine china and candles, adding to the comforting ambiance.

As you took your seat, you couldn’t help but express your gratitude and slight apprehension. “This is all so... beautiful,” you whispered, your hands fidgeting slightly. “But honestly, Hongjoong, I really don’t think I deserve—”

Your words were cut off as Hongjoong placed his hand gently over yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “Hey,” he said softly, his gaze steady and sincere. “You deserve this. You’ve been amazing, and I wanted to show my appreciation.”

The sincerity in his voice eased your worries, and you nodded, smiling gratefully. Just then, the waiter approached your table, ready to take your orders. “Good evening. May I start you off with something to drink?” he asked, his pen poised over his notepad.

Hongjoong glanced at you, then back at the waiter. “We’ll have a bottle of your finest white wine, please,” he said, and the waiter nodded, jotting it down.

“And for the main course?” the waiter inquired, looking between the two of you.

Hongjoong smiled at you. “What would you like? Do you have any preferences?”

You looked at the menu, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the options, none of which were familiar to you. “I haven’t tried any of these before... I think I’ll just have whatever you recommend,” you said, smiling sheepishly.

Hongjoong nodded understandingly, then turned to the waiter. “She’ll have the grilled sea bass with lemon herb sauce, and I’ll have the filet mignon with truffle butter,” he ordered confidently, choosing dishes he thought you would enjoy.

The waiter nodded, noting down your orders. “Excellent choice, sir. Your meals will be out shortly,” he said, giving a polite bow before leaving.

As the evening continued, you and Hongjoong indulged in light conversation, gradually easing into more personal topics. You took a sip of your wine and asked, “So, how are you feeling now that Fashion Week is drawing closer? I know there’s still a few months left, but it’s not as far as it used to be.”

Hongjoong leaned back slightly, exhaling softly. “Honestly? I do feel a little pressured and stressed out. The beginning of the process was quite overdue, which has added some tension,” he confessed, his eyes reflecting the weight of his responsibilities.

Hearing this, you immediately felt a pang of guilt. You were acutely aware that the delay was partly due to the time it took for you to return his sketchbook. “I’m so sorry about the sketchbook... I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble or delay,” you began, your voice tinged with regret.

But Hongjoong quickly shook his head, raising a hand to stop you. “No, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault at all. I completely understand why it took a while. You had your own reasons, and I respect that,” he assured you, his tone gentle and understanding. “Besides, I’m grateful it was you who found it. The sketches are as personal as they are professional, and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to return them.”

He then shifted the conversation, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “As for my goals for Fashion Week, I’m really aiming to showcase something unique. I want my collection to tell a story—something that resonates on a deeper level with people. I’ve been working on integrating sustainable practices into the designs, focusing on eco-friendly materials and innovative techniques. It’s a challenge, but it’s important to me. I want to highlight not just fashion but also a message about sustainability and conscious consumerism.”

You listened intently, impressed by his dedication and vision. “That sounds amazing. It’s great that you’re thinking about the bigger picture, not just the fashion itself but the impact it has on the world. It’s a refreshing approach in an industry that can sometimes seem so detached from these issues,” you responded, your admiration evident in your voice. “It’s inspiring to see someone so committed to their values and willing to take on the challenge of integrating them into their work.”

Hongjoong smiled, appreciating your support and understanding. “Thank you. It’s definitely a journey, but it’s one I’m passionate about. There’s a lot of work to be done, but I believe it’s worth it.”

As the conversation naturally flowed, Hongjoong turned the focus back to you, his expression curious and concerned. “How have you been handling the sudden exposure to the media? It must be a big change for you.”

You sighed, glancing around the restaurant. You noticed a fair portion of the other diners occasionally glancing in your direction. It was hard to tell if they were looking at Hongjoong, you, or perhaps both of you. The attention felt overwhelming, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Hongjoong noticed your unease and seemed to read your thoughts. “They’re definitely looking at you,” he said, a wry smile on his lips. “People are still curious about you. The media has been persistent, trying to learn more about your background.”

You sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck, feeling the weight of his words. “It’s quite a lot to take in,” you admitted, your voice carrying a hint of anxiety. “Honestly, it’s a bit scary. What often happens with people who suddenly go viral is that the media and the public can switch up on them. One moment you’re the person everyone wants to know about, and the next, they’re tearing you down for no reason. I can’t help but worry about that, about what people might say or think. There’s probably already hate comments about me out there, and it’s just... unsettling.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, his gaze sincere and reassuring. “I understand your concerns, but you shouldn’t waste your time or energy worrying about those people,” he said firmly. “There will always be people who are negative or try to bring others down, especially online where it’s so easy to hide behind anonymity. But what matters is how you handle it. You’ve been genuine and true to yourself, and that’s all anyone can ask for. The people who care about you and respect you will see that, and they’re the ones whose opinions truly matter. The rest is just noise.”

His words were comforting, a reminder to focus on the positive and not let negativity overshadow your experiences. Just as you were about to respond, the waiter arrived with your meals, expertly setting down the plates before you. The aroma of the food was enticing, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the delicious meal in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said to the waiter, then turned to Hongjoong with a smile. “And thank you, Hongjoong, for this lovely dinner. It’s really thoughtful of you.”

He smiled warmly. “It’s my pleasure. I’m glad we could spend this evening together.”

You took your first bite of the grilled sea bass, savoring the delicate flavors. The lemon herb sauce complemented the fish perfectly, creating a harmonious and delightful taste. You looked up at Hongjoong, your eyes shining with delight. “This is really good! You definitely recommended the right dish.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” Hongjoong said, his smile broadening. “I wanted you to have a good experience here.”

Curious, you asked, “Do you come here often?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I usually only come here when Wooyoung or Seonghwa or both invite me to dinner. I rarely go to extravagant places alone. I prefer staying home or in the office, losing myself in work. It’s just more comfortable for me that way, I guess.”

The evening seemed to slip away like sand through your fingers. Before you knew it, you were seated comfortably in Hongjoong’s car, the soft hum of the engine a soothing backdrop as he began the drive to your apartment. The day’s events, from the delightful meal to the heartfelt conversations, had left you pleasantly exhausted. As you gazed out the window, watching the city lights blur past, you felt your eyelids grow heavy. Hongjoong glanced over, noticing your drowsiness.

“You can sleep if you want to,” he offered kindly, his voice a soft murmur. “I’ll wake you up when we reach your apartment.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it would be alright to take up his offer. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

He smiled gently, reassuring you with a calm, “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s no trouble at all.”

Relieved, you returned his smile and shifted in your seat, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window. As your eyes fluttered closed, the rhythmic motion of the car lulled you into a peaceful slumber. Hongjoong kept his focus on the road, but every now and then, he glanced over at you, noting your serene expression. As the car came to a halt at a red light, he took the opportunity to gently remove his blazer and drape it over you, ensuring you were warm and comfortable. For a brief moment, he found himself mesmerized by your features, a sense of quiet admiration washing over him. A stray strand of your hair fell across your face, and without thinking, he reached out with the intention to brush it away. Just as his fingers were about to touch your skin, the light turned green, pulling him back to reality. He quickly withdrew his hand, clearing his throat and refocusing on the road.

As Hongjoong navigated the familiar streets leading to your apartment, he gently tapped your shoulder three times, rousing you from your nap. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, until your eyes met his. The warmth in his gaze instantly put you at ease. “We’re almost there,” he informed you, a soft smile on his lips.

You nodded, slowly coming back to full awareness. It was then that you noticed his blazer draped over you, the scent of his perfume subtly filling your senses. It carried a complex blend of fruity, floral, and musky notes. Grateful for the warmth, you pulled the fabric closer, a small, appreciative smile gracing your lips.

Upon reaching your apartment building, Hongjoong exited the car first, walking around to your side to open the door. He extended his hand, helping you out of the car. “Thank you,” you murmured, taking his hand and stepping out gracefully. You took a moment to straighten the slight wrinkles in your dress, feeling a bit more composed.

Just as you were about to express your gratitude, a familiar feline figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The cat leaped up, not into your arms as expected, but into Hongjoong’s, causing him to let out a small gasp of surprise. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight of him awkwardly adjusting his grip to properly hold the cat.

“Looks like Pompidou missed you,” you remarked with a fond smile, tilting your head as you watched the scene unfold.

Hongjoong chuckled, a mix of amusement and affection in his eyes as he gently petted the cat. “I can definitely picture you being mischievous now,” he cooed, lightly tapping the tip of Pompidou’s nose with his index finger.

An idea sparked in your mind. You quickly pulled out your phone, taking a few steps back to capture the candid moment. Hongjoong, caught in the act of playing with the cat, looked both charming and endearing. You snapped a photo, giggling softly to yourself before putting your phone away.

“You have a kind soul,” you whispered, almost to yourself, as you observed Hongjoong. “That must be why Pompidou likes you.”

As if on cue, the cat suddenly jumped down from Hongjoong’s arms and trotted towards the entrance of your apartment building. Hongjoong watched the feline’s departure with a soft smile, then turned back to you.

“It looks like it’s time for you to go inside,” he said gently, the warmth in his voice unmistakable.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you prepared to bid him farewell. “Thank you for tonight, Hongjoong. It was really wonderful. And thank you for letting me help out with your designs. It was a great way to distract myself from everything that’s been going on,” you said sincerely, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. “I’ll definitely make sure to return the favor.”

He shook his head, a light chuckle escaping his lips. “You don’t need to. Your presence is enough for me,” he said, then quickly added, waving his hands as if to clarify, “I mean, you’re a really great friend. It’s nice to have you around.”

The term “great friend” resonated with you, touching a part of your heart that hadn’t felt such warmth in a long time. You smiled softly, a heartfelt look in your eyes. “I’m glad you think of me that way,” you replied, your voice soft and sincere.

With that, you exchanged goodbyes, Hongjoong standing by until you safely entered your building. As the door closed behind you, you watched from the lobby as he walked back to his car, giving you one last wave before driving away. You stood there for a moment, reflecting on the evening’s events and the unexpected bond you were forming with Hongjoong. The night had been more than just a distraction; it was a step towards something new and meaningful, leaving you with a warm, lingering feeling as you made your way up to your apartment.

Once you were back home, you quickly settled on the floor with your journal in hand, leaning your back against the bed. The quiet of your apartment contrasted with the eventful day you had, and you felt a comforting sense of calm wash over you. As you opened your journal, the blank pages seemed to invite you to pour out your thoughts and feelings. You began writing, your pen flowing across the paper.

The past few days have been really eventful, thanks to Hongjoong. At first, practicing the ins and outs of sewing was proving itself to be quite the struggle, but I was lucky enough for him to lend me a helping hand with zero judgment. Honestly, I still feel a little embarrassed over offering to help while being well aware I barely knew how a sewing machine operates... But anyway, when I got used to it, I wasted no time in helping him out with one of his designs for his upcoming collection for autumn. We finished it today, and I think it’s safe to say that it turned out great.

He insisted on treating me to a celebratory dinner tonight, and while I had initial hesitance since fancy places weren’t exactly my style, I think his presence helped me get more comfortable with it over the minutes we spent there. He said I was a great friend, too, and I have to say that it was really heartwarming. I can’t even count how many years have passed since the last time someone called me that...

But overall, I had a lot of fun today, and hopefully, I’ll continue to.

🪞 — lividstar.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Raven, helloooo i’m doing a runaround tumblr to showcase my admiration for my favorite writers on tumblr, and you get one~!

Can I just start off by saying you're incredibly insightful and intelligent?? Your ability to grasp onto character qualities and understand each of them is incredible! Your characterization is always on point. I'd think you are a script writer from the original! I love coming across any of your theories on a character, analysis which always seem canon, or your writings! Romantic or just daily shenanigans between characters all of it is so amazing!! I love each of them! Your writing style is so smooth and fun to read! Its both detailed and telling, but also shown and displayed with the characters actions. You give them life and I love that!

You're also so incredibly patient with your audience! Your willingness to learn is also endearing and I think in general you're a really good person I enjoy seeing come up! Your content is very re-readable in my opinion and I think your blog is wonderful aesthetic wise too! It gives a sense of curiosity and liveliness. Also I adore your oc too~ I love seeing the content of her!

To conclude, I really enjoy seeing any and all of your content and keep up the wonderful work <3 be sure to take breaks as well!

For some context, I recieved this ask towards the tail end of TWST’s third anniversary (around March 18th). Back then, I was very stressed between writing Sebek’s birthday one-shot, alt!dorm headcanons, and general irl business… so the timing of this ask was coincidentally perfect 🥺 It was a nice little pick-me-up to help me through that mentally demanding period, so I’m really thankful that it came when it did!! (If I seem a little more emotional than usual, that’s why 😅)

The next thing I want to say is thank you very much for the highly detailed feedback!! 🙏 I appreciate it when my readers let me know what they think of my work—and while I’ll always like seeing a “good job” or a “you write well”, it’s the very explicit feedback that I enjoy the most. “You did a good job with X! You wrote this well!” It lets me know what specifically my strengths are, and gives me ideas on how to improve in the future or where I may be lacking or not as strong.

I’m glad that you like my works (creative writing, theories, analyses) so much!! TWST has become my hyperfixation these last few years, so I’m grateful that I have a space where I can just shout about it and overanalyze it to heck and back. It feels so therapeutic to be able to share this passion with others!

dhscuwxnks It’s an honor to be told that my stuff seems canon or that it makes you think I’m actually a writer on the dev team 😭 I feel like it’s usually hard for fans to see how much time and effort content creators put into their craft; they just see the end product, consume it, and then wait for the next product to come out only to repeat the cycle. It’s really nice to know that people notice all the work I put in to tru and capture the essence of the TWST characters and their canon. I basically try to wiggle into their mind spaces 😳

We hold TWST near and dear to our hearts, and I want to have others experience that same fondness when they read my works. The smiles and the sobs we’ve had with the NRC boys are universal experiences; I’m glad that I’m able to share such a thing with my readers. I think people sometimes underestimate just how much forms of art can touch us at our very cores; they can be so memorable that someone reading your fic or looking at your art can remember exactly where they were when they first consumed your work. Creations can leave an impact on the world and the people who look upon it!

Sometimes I’ve been told I’m too patient 😂 but I’m relieved that it seems like my patience is seen as a virtue?? I’m used to giving advice and being the voice of reason to others, so I guess that extended into my fandom life. If people find that useful, then I’m happy to be of help and that I didn’t step on any toes! I want my words to guide others into making determinations that feel are right to them, not tell them how they “should” feel or think.

I like to learn because I realize there’s a lot I don’t know. Just as I give knowledge and advice, I’d also like to receive it 🎵 If I think about it… the patience makes me one part Trey, and the curiosity and willingness to learn makes me one part Lilia?

Not gonna lie, I’m still struggling to find that “perfect” blog theme for me… but I’m happy that you also like the little technical things like how the blog is laid out and looks. (I’m very invested in my blog’s theming and Alice in Wonderland motifs!! 💪)

I’m also working on getting more comfortable with sharing content of my OC 🥲 I’ve mentioned this before, but I feel guilty when I mention Miss Raven because some part of me realizes that most people are here for general TWST stuff, not her. Even though this is my blog and I can do whatever I want with it, this still makes me feel like I’m somehow being selfish… which I know is a ridiculous way of thinking, so I’m trying to combat it!!

Once again, thank you for this valuable feedback, I hope you didn’t mind me rambling 🥺 I’ll definitely be looking back on this to reflect!! And I’ll try to take breaks, but no promises in case I can’t keep it—

[shoyokuto]

-work for it

pairing: bokuto kotaro x reader 

summary: while stumbling around at a college party you have no desire of being at, all you want is a white claw. in an attempt to find one, you run into a guy who happened to steal the last one. after leaving the kitchen, you had no clue you were going to have a much closer interaction with the same guy later that night.

wc: 4.1k

warnings: some fluff, some smut/implied smut, drinking/mentions of drugs, drunk bokuto and kuroo, high kenma and suna, bokuto being bokuto 

author’s note: what’s a better first fic than a hot bokuto college au one? wellll here’s my first fic!! i had lots of fun writing it. it’s definitely not perfect, so please leave any constructive criticism/advice in my asks!! i would really appreciate it. also, picture campbell however you’d like, she’s my beautiful irl bsf who is obsessed with suna, so i just had to make her his gf in this. i will most likely be making a part 2 to this + other fics very soon! thank you so much, and i hope you enjoy<3

...

Goosebumps by Travis Scott blares through the speakers that line the hallways of the huge house made small by the hundreds of college students that filled it. The red and purple combination of the lights that ran across the corners of the walls of every room washed over you, making it difficult to focus on one thing, let alone find the person you’ve been searching for in the mess for an hour.

You’re only a few shots and one half cup of beer in and you’re already dizzy. The way you stumble through the crowds of people, pushing away the feelings of embarrassment and solemnity, looking lost as a puppy. Trying to find somebody- anybody. Your brain is fixated on finding a person- you don’t know who, or why this sudden jolt of the longing for someone suddenly sparked within you- you hadn’t seen your best friend Campbell since she got trailed off in a game of cup pong earlier with Suna. You hadn’t seen Kuroo or Kenma either. The only three people you knew at this party are somewhere in this damn house, having the time of her lives, while you’re wandering around, being the light weight you are. The sound of the music is muffled and the bass shakes the floor with every step you take, each footstep you take lands to the beat of the song playing. You step on the shoes of couples making out right in the middle of everything and have no feeling of remorse. The splash of someone’s drink hits your shoulder covered by your light sweater, which causes you to whip your head to the side and look the person up and down, vision blurred and streaked.

You stumble into what you think- think- is a kitchen. The purple lights no longer flooded the atmosphere; your weary eyes trying to adjust to the change in lighting and space. Your eyes trace the shiny marble counters that ran along the back of the tiled wall until they met the silver- probably super expensive- fridge. You guide yourself by putting one hand on the island in the middle of the kitchen, the other hand at your side until you meet the fridge door. You sluggishly raise it and grab the handle, slowly pulling it open. The light of the fridge almost blinds your intoxicated eyes, as you squint and blink and blink and blink.

As your eyes fix, they dart in different directions looking for the White Claw you’ve been longing for. All. Night.

Your desires are interrupted by the sound of liquid pouring into a cup behind you. The sound turns your head around slowly, your eyes still squinted and shoulders hunched. Your hand still grasped the handle of the fridge.

“Are you okay?” a voice sounds from the island of the kitchen behind you. It took a second for you to realize you had turned the wrong direction of the pouring noise you heard. You quickly turn the other way, finally meeting the gaze of a taller guy with spiked hair, dipped in grey highlights over black roots, accompanied by a pair of amber, owl-like eyes.

“Uh, yeah, I was um,” you swallow and scratch the back of your neck, “lookin’ for a White Claw.”

The guy raises his grey, thick eyebrows and makes a “tsk” noise with his tongue and taking a sarcastic, deep breath in. “That is really unfortunate because I actually just took the last one.”

He says, leaning against the island with one arm, as the other one is occupied with your White Claw in a red solo cup.

“You’re fuckin…damnit. Damnit Kenma,” You respond, turning back around to face the fridge. “and Kuroo and Cam.” You mumble shortly after.

“You know Kenma?” the guy asks, lifting his arm up from the island and straightening up.

“Yeah. Why do you?” You don’t turn around to answer, instead you grab a water from the freezer. You close the fridge and attempt to open the water bottle, but fail a couple times as your hand slips over the cap and your fingers start to hurt. You hope the guy doesn’t notice.

“Dude. He’s Kenma. Have you seen his fuckin keg stands?” he replies, walking towards you.

You hold the water bottle in both of your hands, staring straight into the doors of the fridge. You aren’t sure what’s happening completely, but you know you feel the footsteps of the guy approaching you. “I’ve seen them more than enough. He’s my friend’s roommate.”

“You mean Kuroo? You are one lucky duck there, aren’t ya? Your friend’s a stud.” The guy says. You think his footsteps have stopped; you can’t tell if you're just feeling your heart beat in your legs from the nerves or if it’s the steps of the guy’s feet towards you. “At least you seem to be enjoying yourself.” He says sarcastically. You shrug, absentmindedly starting to attempt to open the water bottle again.

“Want me to get that for ya?” the guy asks. And he might as well not have even asked, because he immediately takes the water bottle out of your hands and opens it as easily as he started the conversation. “Damn. How much have you drank, scrawny?”

“Did you just…I’m too fucked for this.” You said waving your hand in the air and starting to walk off.

You get to the entrance of the kitchen before the same voice you heard a few seconds ago- that called you scrawny- sounds again. “You forgot your water.”

You look down at your hands, and in embarrassment turn around and fidget with them as you walk back to the guy, who is now leaning back on the marble countertop. He had your last-resort water bottle in one hand, and your wanted White Claw in the other.

You grab the water bottle from the guys hand, not breaking eye contact with him. You did have to admit, the guy’s eyes were pretty mesmerizing. Maybe it’s just the shots talking, though.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around. What’s the name?” he asks, as soon as you had turned around to head for the exit a second time.

You hesitate as you turns back around again. “y/n.”

“Alright, y/n. I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for more White Claw. Except I don’t think you need any.” He says smirking, proceeding to take a sip out of his solo cup just to spite you.

You squint again, trying to process his words. “Yeah…” you respond in a confused tone, dragging out the word. You slowly turn around, still feeling the heat of the guy’s eyes burn through your back.

And now you’re back in the purple, hazy, crowded room you came from a few minutes ago. However, the trip to the kitchen for a delicious White Claw felt like hours, and you came back with an ice water that you couldn’t even open yourself. In fact, a hot stranger opened it. Your mind races as you slowly approach the cluster of people once again- an atmosphere you did not miss when in the kitchen.

If only you had a fucking White Claw.

You stand surrounded by frantic jumpers and dancers, the light of your phone shining onto your face. The line of text messages you sent to Kuroo and Campbell reflect onto your glossy eyes as you scroll up and down on the messages absentmindedly, waiting for a response like: “where are you?” or “let’s head back”. But still nothing. No vibration, no call, no nothing.

Your heart pounds, no longer in sync with the beat of the music, but speeding up as you hear the increasing volume of shouts and screams of encouragement from one of the rooms around you. Except you can’t tell where the noise is coming from, as the screams mold together and create a halo, surrounding your head. You squeeze your eyes shut as you pinch the bridge of your nose, until you realize you’re being run through by a crowd of eager partiers rushing past you. You feel the grazes of people's arms against yours, causing you to turn around, facing the direction of the room the people are so excited to get to. 

Again, like your brain still hasn’t told you to give up, you whip your head around for Kuroo, or somebody, eyes widening despite the bags under them and your throbbing headache.

After a failure of search, you decide to head the way everyone else is, following whoever the random boy was in front of you. He had dark brown hair that was slightly combed down and raised in the back which absorbed the fluorescent lights that shone from the ceilings. He wore grey Nike sweatpants, if you were seeing correctly, some dirty air force ones, and maybe a…brown crewneck? Familiar looking, but you couldn’t tell under the obnoxious lights.

The mass of people in front of you come to a stop slowly, lining up in the shape of a circle on the inside of the group; too far for you to see in the conditions you were in.

You’re too caught up in your racing thoughts that you bump into the guy you were examining in front of you.

“Watch it.” He says as he whips his head around to meet yours. His hair was parted down the middle, definitely brown now that you could kind of see. He had snake-like eyes, the whites of them a little bloodshot, followed by a dark shade under them.

Wait.

It’s Suna. Your best friend’s boyfriend. You’re too drunk to recognize him?

“Hold on…Suna? Where’s…where’s Cam?” you ask, scratching your forehead.

“Oh, y/n. She’s up there.” He says, pointing his finger towards the inside of the large group of people.

“S-sorry,” you mutter, putting your hands behind your back. Your tired eyes look over and behind Suna, as you push yourself up and down on your tippy toes in an attempt to see over him.

“Do you know what’s happening right now?” you asked, finally giving up and resting the heels of your feet down.

Suna looks over to where he was pointing, his lips parted and his posture slouched over. “Keg stand.”

Your eyes widen as you put two and two together.

Kenma. Kuroo. Keg stand.

You take a heavy step towards the unknown mess in front of you, sliding past Suna. You didn’t realize how many layers of people you were going to have to push through in order to reach the inside of the crown, your heart speeding up along with your mind as the anxiety of not knowing what was on the inside of this circle fills your tight chest.  

Is Kenma going to be doing the stand this time, or Kuroo?

You try to remember which one of them was holding the other up last time. Your mind flashes back to last weekend’s party; one that wasn’t near as crowded as this one. You try to retrace the sight of one of them holding the legs of the other, an extra cheering on whoever was downing the alcohol from the straw that extended form the keg as people shout one of their names. Which one was it? Did it sound like: “Ken-ma! Ken-ma! Ken-ma!” followed by a hooray and bursts of shouts, or was it “Kur-oo! Kur-oo! Kur-oo!” followed by the same type of celebration as Kenma’s. And for what? Just doing a handstand on a bucket while drinking? Sounds miserable to me, you thought.

You finally push through to the front and stumble when you accidentally step a little too far, as you end up in front of the people that lined the circle around the lives of the party. Kenma, Kuroo, and-

Wait.

Neither Kenma nor Kuroo are the center of attention this time.

It’s that hot guy from the kitchen.

The cheers start to finally enter your muffled ears which cause you to cover them, still looking in shock at the kitchen guy. His legs are straight up in the air, slightly bent and wobbly, but he somehow managed to keep them there. And even more amazingly, Kuroo, Kenma, and Campbell were just standing there. The kitchen guy didn’t even need to be held up.

What the hell, you thought, rubbing your eyes.

Finally, after hours of being left in the dust by him, Kenma’s eyes finally meet yours.

He’s high again. I wonder how much he smoked tonight.

“y/n!” Kenma yells, pulling on Kuroo’s red, long sleeved shirt while also tapping on Campbell’s shoulder. “Get your ass over here.”

You look around and hesitantly take heavy steps even farther into the center of the circle, the light fading into a reddish-purple as you got closer to them- and the kitchen guy, who was still going on the keg stand.

“Can you believe this guy?” Kenma says, laughing and pointing at the kitchen guy.

“I met him earlier.” You responded hoarsely.

“Yeah, Kuroo’s taken a strong liking to him. They’re like besties already.” he snorts, rolling his eyes sarcastically and shoving his hands into his pockets of his jacket. 

With that, the guy props himself down from the keg stand and stands up straight, wiping his arm against his mouth and raising his fists into the air. Like he was some God, everyone in the crowd cheers and throws their hands up, yelling: “Bo-ku-to! Bo-ku-to! Bo-ku-to!”

Bokuto.

Kenma pats Bokuto on the back and Kuroo gives him a noogie. Bokuto pushes his face away and laughs, as he runs his hand through his spiked up hair. Campbell gives him a high five, and Suna finally makes his way over to her, giving her a kiss on the cheek and wrapping his arm around her waist.

You don’t realize you’ve been staring until Bokuto meets your gaze; his eyes widen.

“y/n!” Bokuto says, throwing his arms up. “Did ya see me? I mean, look how entertained a bunch of drunk college students can get. I’m uh-maze-ing.”

“Y-yeah.” You say, your mouth parted open. “How did you even-“

“I have something for you!” Bokuto interrupts, walking over behind the keg stand and bending over to grab something. He turns back round towards you, hiding something behind his back. He stumbles a bit with an attempted smile on his face.

“Huh?” you let out, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Ta-da!” Bokuto says, revealing a White Claw out from behind his back, water dripping off of it. “Found some upstairs.”

We’re not upstairs already? You ask yourself.

The drink starts to make its way to your empty hand, when suddenly Kuroo interrupts, jumping in between you two.

“What the fuck? You found a Claw?” he asks, slapping Bokuto on the back in a friendly manner.

“Yeah. It was pretty fuckin’ easy, too. Bunch of light weights.” Bokuto responds, proceeding to hand you the drink.

Kuroo interrupts again by resting his hand on the White Claw and pushing it back towards Bokuto’s chest. “Hold on hold on hold on. You’re gonna give it to her that easily?” he says, laughing.

Bokuto looks at Kuroo, to you, then back to Kuroo. “Huh?” he says, his upper lip lifting along with his eyebrow.

“I meeaaannn,” Kuroo rests both of his hands on one of yours and Bokuto’s shoulders, “she has to work for it. White Claws don’t come that easily.”

Kenma, Campbell, and Kuroo are all staring at the three of you, and you soon come to realize the whole fucking party was staring at you guys, too.

You look at Bokuto with a very confused expression spread across your face, however, Bokuto’s seemed interested.

Kuroo gets on top of one of the tables near him, almost falling over as he pushed himself up. He cups his hand in a microphone manner so he could project his voice throughout the house for the crowd. “Who here had to go through war to get a fuckin White Claw tonight?” he yelled.

The crowd of people screams back at him, causing his eyebrows to raise and his head to nod. “Right, right. So,” he looks down at you from the table, and his finger is pointed at you while his other hand remained as a sound booster, “who here thinks y/n needs to work for the last one?” he proceeds to yell, throwing his hands up.

The crowd screams again, and you can feel sweat trickle down the back of your neck.

“Want me to do pushups or something?” Bokuto says, smirking.

“No. I want you guys…” Kuroo looks over at you, a smirk forming at his lips. “come here, Bo.” He says as he motions Bokuto over.

Bokuto walks over to Kuroo hesitantly, still holding the White Claw in his hand. “What the hell are you scheming right now?”

“Dude. Make out with her. You can’t just give her that precious thing.” He said in a loud whisper. “And you probably haven’t had action in weeks.”

“Seriously? Girls fuckin love me.” Bokuto replies, raising his eyebrows.

You can see Bokuto’s eyes widen as you watch them have the conversation, making your mind go in circles trying to find out what he could possibly be so surprised about. As your thoughts are racing, you see them both look at you, Bokuto crossing his arms. He starts to slowly walk over to you, the White Claw still in hand.

 “Oh shit,” Kenma says, eyeing Kuroo who stayed in the place he and Bokuto were talking,his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. Looking at Suna and Campbell, Kenma says, “I know that look.” With that, Campbell and Suna giggle as they watch Bokuto flirtishly walk over to you.

Your heart pounded out of your chest; what was about to happen? Why were your friends laughing? You couldn’t think straight as Bokuto’s eyes fixated on yours as he walked towards you. There seemed to be a certain glare in his eyes, the yellows and ambers burning with lust as he stared straight into yours. You look over to Campbell and see her hands over her mouth as she stands next to Suna whose eyes are wide as well.

Interrupting your thoughts, you realize Bokuto had finally made it across the room to you. He stops only a couple inches in front of you, his hungry eyes looking down at yours. The White Claw in his hand was close to your chest, and you could feel the warmth of Bokuto’s body on yours.

“You want this drink, don’t you?” he asked, staring at your lips.

“Uh…yeah, I do.” You reply, looking back and forth between his lips and his eyes.

“Gotta work for it, pretty girl.”

Suddenly everything around you blurs: the shouts, the people, the purple lights, the music. All you could focus on was Bokuto’s presence and his need to want to be as close as he could to you. You two had just met, and he’s already like a magnet.

 His hand slowly raises to cup your cheek, and his face moves towards yours. His eyes do not leave your lips.

Your heart races as you watch him get closer and closer, his body inching towards yours.

He stops slowly, his lips just inches away from yours, parted. You could feel the heat of his breath, and it made you fill with excitement.

“You alright with this?” he whispers.

“Yeah.” You reply, putting your hands on his shoulders.

He smirks at the reply and finally leans in.

Your eyes close on instinct as you feel Bokuto’s lips meet yours. He starts slow, his thumb rubbing against your cheek. However, he picked the pace up as hid hand moved from your cheek to your neck. Your hands still rested on his shoulders, and the slip of Bokuto’s tongue made you squeeze them. This only provoked him more.

He pulled back for a moment, looking into your eyes. This time, they were even more list filled. “Can I keep going?” he asked softly.

You nodded in response, closing your eyes again as he met your lips again. He looked into your eyes still and smiled, his finger pushing a loose piece of hair back behind your ear. His eyes soon returned to your lips as he leaned in for a second time. He pressed his tongue against your lips and you granted him access to your mouth once again. This time the kiss was slower and deeper. Your heart was spinning along with your mind, with every stroke of his tongue you could feel the pool of heat and the knot in your stomach build up.

His long kiss was rough but passionate, every now and then pulling back and biting your lower lip. You let him take control, and his touch was the best feeling you’ve felt in ages. His hands slowly move down from your neck to your waist, his fingers sliding over every curve of your body. This softness of his fingers as they slid down made you shiver, but you were still distracted by the passionate make out the hot guy you met in the kitchen was granting to you. You could feel him smile through the kiss as he pulled back and went back at you over and over.  

The shouts and music suddenly get louder and less muffled as Bokuto slowly pulls back. Before he goes all the way back, he cups your face again and plants a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Campbell, Suna, and Kenma are all leaning against each other, bouncing up and down and pointing at you and Bokuto. However, your attention remained on him.

The kiss was so amazing you almost forgot a whole room of people were watching, and that you were only doing it for a White Claw.

You smiled softly as you looked into Bokuto’s eyes, then to the White Claw.

Bokuto raises his empty hand once again to hold your chin with his pointer finger and thumb, lifting your chin up. The heated eye contact remained as your head tilted back.

“Open up.” He said, lifting the White Claw up to your mouth.

You followed his command and opened your mouth. You closed your eyes as you felt the cool liquid hit your tongue: the taste you’ve been craving all night.

However, the only thing you are still craving even more is Bokuto’s touch.

He tilted the drink back down and gently pulled your chin down to meet his gaze once again. Following this, he gently presses his lips to yours for a few seconds. “Mmmm,” he said, licking his lips and rubbing his finger in circles around his temple, “mango!” he followed, pointing his finger into the air. You giggled at this and nodded your head.

Campbell runs over to you and puts her hand on your shoulders, jerking you back and forth and screaming in your face. “That did not just happen.”

“I honestly can’t believe it did.” You replied, rubbing your eyes. You looked over at Bokuto who was standing next to Kuroo in the middle of a fist bump. Kuroo catches you staring and walks over to you.

“You’re welcome.” He said smiling.

“Thanks, K.” you replied patting him on the shoulder.

You walked back over to Bokuto who still had the half empty White Claw in his hand.

“I think I deserve the rest.” You said scratching your head.

“Um, I practically just carried that whole kiss. I think I deserve at least half.” He said while raising his eyebrows and placing one hand on his hip.

“Wow.” you replied laughing. “Who said?”

“I said.” His expression turned more serious. “Maybe you can work for the rest later.”

This caused you to clench your fists and tug at the neck of your sweater. You could feel sweat run down your forehead and your cheeks flush red.

“Cute.” He said with a smile and a laugh, proceeding to take a sip of your White Claw.

“Excuse me.” You said, reaching up for the White Claw in his hand as he raised it as high as you could so you couldn’t reach. Your hand grasped the wrist of the Hand the drink was in and you were up against his chest, both of you laughing the little sobriety you had off of you.

The teasing was halted by the sound of sirens from outside of the house.

Shit. Cops.

“Oh shit,” you heard Bokuto say as he brought the White Claw down. With no warning, he took your hand and started off with you, pushing through the crowd of worried, drunk teenagers. You frantically looked around for Campbell, Kenma, or Kuroo, but had no sight of any of them through the rush of people. “Don’t worry y/n, I can take us somewhere.” He said looking back at you.You looked at him and your mind wandered. 

Bokuto seemed like a natural at everything- keg stands, making out, getting away from the cops. 

How are you so into him already?

[zodiyack]

Men-Sitting (700+ Follower Special!)

Pairing: Colson ‘Machine Gun Kelly’ Baker x Female!reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, me not proofreading

Note: This is my final Follower-Special (until I hit another goal) and I just wanna say thank you so fucking much to all of my followers, readers who don’t follow, random people who stumble across my blog, friends irl and online, thank you so so so much. I never thought I’d make it past 100 followers to be honest, so this is really big to me heh, and I don’t even know how to thank you guys- I love you all so so much, please stay safe, take care, and yeah. Again, thank you!

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace​

Masterlist

“Are you sure you have everything?” Y/n asked, for what Colson felt like was the thousandth time.

“Yes, baby, I’m sure. If we forget anything, one of us can stay with Casie while the other goes and gets the thing we’ve forgotten, alright? I promise, we’ll be okay.” His hands ran up and down her arms in a comforting way, the smile on his face having a similar effect as what his hands were attempting to achieve.

“Thank you.” She leaned in to kiss her boyfriend, but was interrupted by a squeal and little arms wrapping around her waist.

“Y/n!” Casie yelled excitedly, causing the couple to separate. The woman opened her arms and bent down, picking Casie up and hugging her tightly, a series of kisses finding their way to the little girl’s face.

“Hey there Cas! Are you gonna enjoy your trip?” The girl nodded, allowing Y/n to pull her up fully, wrapping her legs tightly around her waist. “Take care of your dad for me, okay?”

Casie nodded again, “I promise!” 

Colson sputtered out sounds, pretending to take offence. Unable to find the right wording for his feigned hurt, he gave up and grabbed Casie from Y/n, kissing her on the head before leaning over and kissing Y/n as well.

“We’ll miss you, right Casie?” The eight year old smiled and gave a small, “yea” before leaning over in Colson’s arms to hug Y/n again. He set her down, whispering in her ear to grab her stuff before he stood up again to kiss Y/n goodbye properly.

Their lips touched, then parted enough to speak, “Stay safe, alright?” Her fingers grasped his blond locks, they leaned in until their foreheads touched.

“Alright, I promise, we will.”

“So Casie, what do you wanna do first?” Pete raised his brows as he asked the girl, grabbing things from his suitcase to put in the hotel’s coat hanger part of their room. “Wanna eat ice-cream?”

“No.”

“Watch cartoons?”

“Nope.”

“Play a game?”

“No thanks.”

“Ummm...” He continued popping up questions, most of which he assumed a child around Casie’s age would want, but in truth, he really missed doing all those things. Eventually, he tired out, giving up with a groan as his back hit the bed. “I don’t know anymore kid, I’m all out of ideas.”

“We could listen to my dad’s music?”

Colson had gone to the store to get dinner, not something he’d forgotten, but something he’d promised to do. Buy food for their trip while they were there. The brunette bit his lip while he thought, even if it was different from his expectation, there was nothing wrong with listening to music instead, was there?

“Oh? Uh, yeah sure.” Pete leaned over to grab his phone, pulling up a random song of Colson’s and turning the volume up. He watched with amusement; Casie was dancing around and singling along, enjoying herself.

Maybe he misjudged Casie, or her age-range.

After a few more songs, Colson finally came back, arms full of bags filled with different assortments of food, beverages, and treats. The first thing Casie did was reach over to grab at one of the bags, examining it’s healthy contents with a grin.

“I’ve never seen a child so happy to see the opposite of junk-food in my entire life.” Pete snorted, walking over to help his best friend put everything away properly. “Casie, you want a candy?”

“No thank you. But can I have an apple?”

Even Colson turned his head towards the girl, the confusion laced through his brows as they scrunched, “You alright, Cas?”

“Yep. So is that yes or a no?”

He exchanged a look with Pete before tossing her the red fruit, mumbling something about how weird it was as he shook his head. Colson grabbed himself a small lollipop, popping it into his mouth and sitting next to Casie on the bed.

“So, what do you want to watch?” He grabbed the remote, flicking through the channels aimlessly. He paused on kids shows, only to receive a shake of the head from Casie. “You guys actually watch this shit?” Colson paused on one of the children’s shows, the look on his face displaying his incertitude.

“I don’t. Can we read instead?”

Colson’s head whipped to face his daughter so fast, he thought he broke it. “Who are you and what’ve you done with my baby girl?” Part of him was just trying to be a goof, but the other half was truly puzzled.

His phone began to ring, Y/n’s caller ID popping up. A smile made home on Colson’s, as well as Casie’s, lips when the beautiful bright e/c eyed girl appeared on the screen. “Hey baby!”

“Hey Y/n!”

“I wasn’t talking to you Colson, but hello to you too dork.” Hearing her laugh was worth the playful insult. ��So, Cas, you taking care of the boys for me?” the girl in question nodded, grabbing at the phone, only for her dad to pull it out of her reach.

“Not to be rude, Y/n, but why’d you call?” Pete sat next to the father-daughter duo, looking at the screen. “Also, where are you?” She was in a car, different from where the boys expected her to be at this hour.

“Well, since you guys are out, I decided to go shopping,” Y/n held up a candy bar, “so yeah. Hey, Casie, keep those two idiots safe, okay? I’ve got to go, love you all!”

She hang up, leaving Colson and Pete with a very uninterested looking Casie. The tv was still of no interest, the candy and others likewise. A heavy sigh escaped Colson’s mouth. He’d finally given up and gotten bored himself. Pete, however, came up with a theory.

“Dude, maybe Y/n put her up to this?” both guys sat up quickly as he continued, “I mean, she did seem mostly focused on how we were doing and if Casie was keeping us safe...whatever the fuck that means.”

Casie’s expression switched from neutral to one of horror for a quick second, until she corrected herself with a blank roll of her eyes. Noticing it, Pete smiled victoriously. He’d caught her. “Guess your game wasn’t as sneaky as you wanted it to be. Colson and I caught on in like, less than a day-”

“Actually,” the door creaked open, all three turning to face the door, “I think it was, Davidson.” 

“Y/n!! It worked! I got ‘em good!” Casie jumped off the bed and ran up to her father’s girlfriend, jumping into her arms and hugging her tightly.

“Yes you did! You did amazing, baby!” She reached into one of her back pockets and pulled out the same candy bar she’d shown in their facetime, handing it to Casie with a pat on the head, “Here’s the promised payment, princess.”

The three adults couldn’t contain their laughter with what came next; Casie’s unintentional comedy was too much for them, “Oh thank goodness! I had to eat an apple, Y/n! An apple!! Can you believe that?!”

[meltwonu]

s n a k e     |     e y e s     [chapter 4]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; 🥰💕 HELLO Y’ALL! Strap in for the longest chapter yet fdjhgkkhsf also just,,, i know hybrid aus are different and in the real life only female mammals go into heat but as u kno this is fiction and a hybrid au so for the sake of that, heat cycles r not gonna follow irl rules if u kno what im sayin!!! Also fingering and a little bit of dirty talk, and jihoon being a cheeky lil shit🥴🤤 again thank u all for taking interest in snake eyes!! 💕💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - x - x - x

You try to avoid Jihoon for a couple days, going to the office building where you sometimes worked to try and buy yourself some time away from the snake hybrid. You can’t tell if he notices your eagerness to be away from home but you apologize to him in your head, leaving cash on the table for food when you leave in the morning for the third day in a row.

And although Jihoon may not mind your absence that much, your co-workers take notice of how often you’d been coming to the office lately.

“Is everything okay at home?”

You spin your chair around to face the cubicle next to yours, meeting the curious eyes of Seungkwan, a junior writer that had worked with you a few times. You worked as a journalist at a magazine company; sometimes taking the part of an editor when nobody was available. Thankfully, your job allowed you to work from home a lot of the time which you preferred, up until a few days ago anyway.

“Huh? Oh yeah, things are okay. Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing just… You almost never come in, like, 3 days in a row? Minghao was starting to get worried too, to be honest.” Minghao was the editor in chief at your magazine company and was actually a good friend of yours. You valued his opinion more than anyone as he was insanely level headed and always lead you in the right direction when you needed a helping hand. He also had a hybrid at home, which you had forgotten about until now.  

“Oh… I mean, my mattress has been kinda… y’know, getting old so…”

“What does that have to do with you coming in 3 days in a row? Really, are you okay? You’re not making much sense...”

“I--I think I need to talk to Minghao.”

Knocking on Minghao’s office door, you try to balance the two cups of coffee in your opposite hand, making sure they don’t spill as you grasp the door knob.

“Come in!”

Pushing the door open, you shoot Minghao a lopsided smile as you hold up the coffees, kicking the door shut behind you.

“Wow, can’t say I’m surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… 3 days in a row? Something’s… off.” You sigh, setting the cups of coffee down on Minghao’s desk before sitting down in one of the seats across from him. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Well.. the last time you came in this often was when you broke up with your ex… What was his name? Soonyoung?” The name strikes a chord inside you, almost dropping the cup in your hand when you bring it to your lips to take a sip. It’s not that the relationship with Soonyoung had gone sour necessarily, in all honesty it was better than the two of you had broken up because both of you were too focused on your jobs to be in a relationship at the time. However, it still had been somewhat hard to get over; you were used to having Soonyoung around in your life and apartment and having Jihoon around was surely filling in that space lately.

“Uh, yeah, that’s him. I mean, I just… I have some questions if it’s okay?”

“Yeah, of course. We’re friends before co-workers. What’s up?”

“You… have a hybrid too, right?”

“I do… wait, you said ‘too’. Did you get a hybrid? Is that why you’ve been so out of whack?”

“Well, I did... His name is Jihoon and he’s a snake hybrid.”

Minghao can see you fidgeting from across the table, his eyes focused on the way you can’t even make eye contact with him. “He’s not… hurting you, is he?”

“What! No! Never, he’s really kind and…” You trail off, a blush creeping onto your face the longer you simmer in your own thoughts.

“Let me guess, you like him like him, don’t you.”

“I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

When you get home from the office, the sun’s already been down for a couple hours.

You’d taken the longer way back, thinking about everything you and Minghao had talked about and making some decisions for yourself before making it home. You even stopped at the cafe, grabbing a small dinner and checking to see if the cute barista Jun was around. Sadly, he was not.

“Jihoon, are you here?”

“In the bedroom!” Trudging over, you see Jihoon exiting from the attached bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel. “You got back just in time. I… um, ran you a bath! It’s still warm so…” He trails off, sitting quietly on the bed as he watches your eyes flit from the bathroom to him.

“How’d you know I’d get back around this time? It’s very sweet of you Jihoon but also… why?” The snake hybrid fidgets, hands curling around the hem of his sleeves. “Um… I dunno, you seemed kinda tense lately. And you always do nice stuff for me so I wanted to do something nice for you.  And you always come back around now, kinda. Guess I was just taking a chance?”

Any coherent thoughts leave your brain at how cute Jihoon is, a serene sigh leaving your lips as you step closer to him sitting on the bed. You run your fingers through his hair as he leans into your touch, wrapping his hands around your waist as he pulls you in closer.

“Hmm…”

“Something the matter?”

“You… don’t smell like you lately.” You break into a bit of a cold sweat, fingers pausing against his scalp. “O-oh.. I thought you said your sense of smell was better with your tongue?”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean my nose doesn’t work. And you smell like… other people. It’s weird. I’m not used to that.”

You blush again, pulling away from Jihoon as his hands fall from your waist.

“I should take that bath you ran for me while it’s still warm then, huh?”

“Mmhmm.”

When you exit from the bathroom, Jihoon’s already under the covers waiting for you.

“Already going to bed?” He nods, a yawn on his lips as he tugs the covers higher up onto his body. “Did you eat already?” Jihoon nods again, patting your side of the bed.

You slide into bed next to him, eyes drawing random shapes onto the ceiling as you lay there wide awake.

“Hey Jihoon?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?” The snake hybrid turns to face you, turning onto his side as you do the same. “Sure, shoot.” You feel nervous; thankful that it’s dark so he can’t see the way your skin flushes red. “I… sorry if this is stupid of me to ask but you… don’t go into heat, do you?”

Jihoon’s quiet for a moment, a cold hand wrapping around your wrist as he tugs you closer to him. “I can feel you getting warmer cause you’re probably embarrassed. It’s okay to ask. But can I ask why you’re asking?” Clearing your throat, your eyes adjust to the darkness, staring Jihoon straight in the eyes.

“Oh, I was talking to my f-friend earlier who has a bunny hybrid and… he said that his bunny hybrid goes into heat and I was just wondering? He makes his bunny hybrid take suppressants for his heat and I just… I guess I could’ve looked it up but I figured it’d just be better to ask you since we never really talked about it and it’s been a couple weeks since you’ve started living with me.” Jihoon processes your words, puffing his cheeks up in the darkness as he thinks.

“Technically no. I mean, like I’ve said before I don’t really have many snake-like features anyway so even if we did, I probably wouldn’t. But no… if there’s anything, I’ll probably be, um, a little sensitive to you--your, uh… cycle. Cause… smells and stuff.” This time it’s Jihoon’s turn to blush as he mentally kicks himself for his questionable reply.

“O-oh. I see… I mean, okay. That’s good? I mean, oh my god, about you not having to take suppressants! Not about… the other thing.” You can’t help but think that it’s been weeks since Jihoon started living with you which meant you’d already gone through a cycle and Jihoon hadn’t said a word about it.

“Yeah, I mean, I probably would’ve told you otherwise if it was a problem, I guess. But anyway, do you have any other pillow talk questions?”

“Um…”

“For the record, my dick is normal.”

“Jihoon!!” You can feel yourself start to sweat under the covers, mind conjuring up all sorts of inappropriate scenarios until Jihoon laughs out loud, his cold hand sliding under your neck as he wraps his other hand around your waist, effectively drawing you into him as he holds you tight against his chest.

Eventually all you hear is his steady breath, the quietness letting you know that he’s fallen asleep.

A few days pass since then, and you’re thankful that things go back to what you consider normal as you set up your work space in the living room. You’d texted Minghao a few times earlier, letting him know that things were getting better at home and that maybe he and Chan could come over for lunch sometime the next week. He agrees, telling you he’ll text you his free dates when he has time.

Jihoon was still asleep even though it was already closing in on 1PM in the afternoon. But you had chosen to not wake him up, letting the male sleep in as long as he wanted while you worked on a new draft for an article.

But it’s when you get up to make another cup of coffee after 30 minutes of working that you’re hit with a wave of arousal out of nowhere; body heating up in an instance as you feel wetness pooling between your thighs. Instead of making another cup of coffee, you immediately pick up your phone, swiping until you find your period tracker to check the dates. Fuck, you think, this would fucking happen to me after I fuckin’ asked Jihoon all those stupid questions!

The panic hits you like a ton of bricks when you hear the bedroom door opening. You wonder if there’s time to run out of the door and hide for god knows how long before Jihoon even sees you. But in the time it takes you to figure something out, Jihoon steps into the living room, hair still messy from sleep as he stretches. You watch his movements, hyper aware of the fact he can probably smell you to some degree from where he stands. And it was fine when you didn’t know he was sensitive to your cycle but now you did know which made things a little more complicated.

“Did you already make lunch? I’m starving.” Your throat feels dry, but you try to compose yourself to the best of your ability. You almost wish he hadn’t said anything about being sensitive to your cycle in the first place because the hyperawareness was apparently already eating you alive.

“Oh, um, I can make some now actually! I was just about to! I’ll let you know when it’s ready!”

You all but power walk towards the kitchen, not waiting for his reply as you focus on making something to eat; hoping the smells from the kitchen bury the smell of you ovulating to his sensitive nose.

Jihoon is normal for the rest of the day, albeit you’re on edge. Regretfully, your conversations throughout the day are clipped, mentally apologizing to Jihoon again for your weird behaviour even if he seemed to be taking everything well. Your panties had been annoyingly wet all day, even when you’d gone to change them and it was almost time for bed again which had you panicking yet again.

You take your time to get ready for bed, slightly avoiding Jihoon until you realize there’s no getting out of it. There was a second where you debated asking him to sleep in his old room but it’d been so long since he’d slept there that you felt bad for asking.

When Jihoon calls your name, you exit the bathroom, turning off all the lights before slipping into bed next to him. You feel like a plank of wood next to him, awkwardly stiff as he tries to get you to face him.

“Hey…”

“Yes, Jihoon?”

“I don’t want you to feel awkward even though you’ve kinda been all day… It’s okay, y’know.” You turn away from him, facing the window in your bedroom. You can see the moonlight filtering in through the curtains and it distracts you for a second but you think about how you could cry at how genuinely sweet Jihoon was, even when you were being aloof all day. “Sorry it’s just… You’ve been here for weeks which means you already had… had to deal with me going through it once and you didn’t even say anything? I should’ve asked you sooner cause now I don’t know if you were okay and now that I know you know and you’re sleeping next to me still and I--”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay!”

Jihoon presses into you from behind, the coolness of his body permeating his sleep clothes and cooling down your heated body even just a little bit. “I was okay last time too. Like I said, if there were any problems I would’ve told you right?”

“Yeah, but--”

“No, no buts! It’s fine, really. If I’m being honest… it was kind of nice. You got extra warm during that time. Sorry if that’s kind of weird. Guess you can say I’m an opportunist.” There’s a slight chuckle to his voice as he wraps an arm around your waist. It’s silent for a beat as you slightly relax in his hold.

“Jihoon can I ask you another question?”

“Shoot.”

“Did you… um, were you like this with any of your past owners?” He sighs, nuzzling into your neck as he stares out window with you. “No. Never. Honestly, I’m a little shocked at myself too. But I guess it’s also because I spent most of the time alone when I was being adopted into other homes. You’re the first person who’s adopted me that’s around my age and… genuinely nice. I don’t feel like a show animal here.” The two of you fall into the first comfortable silence all day; Jihoon’s fingertips playing with the material of your sleep shirt.

“Can I try something?” You hum at his question, muttering a small ‘okay’ under your breath.

Jihoon starts slow, cold fingertips lifting your shirt inch by inch underneath the covers until your sleep shorts are exposed to his wandering hand. You can already feel your breath getting caught in your throat as his cold digits skim the waistband of your shorts. “Is this okay?”

“H-huh?”

“I need to know if this is okay, before I continue. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you because of what I said earlier.” You gulp hearing his words; technically, you’d both benefit from this.

“I… yes, I’m okay with this Jihoon. Please… continue.”

The snake hybrid is silent afterwards, his lips pressed against your clothed shoulder as his hand dips into your sleep shorts. His gentle touch has you moaning softly, eyes fluttering shut as you let him explore.

“You’ve been wet all day, haven’t you?”

“Uh… Uh-huh…”

“It’s cute you were trying to hide it like I didn’t already know.” His words are muffled against your shoulder, lips curling up into a cheeky smile that you can’t see. “I gotta be honest, I kind of regretted telling you at first, y’know? You were more open when you didn’t know. I was sad seeing you all clammed up and trying to hide from me earlier.” Jihoon’s fingertips press into the wet spot on your panties, garbled noises muffled by the pillowcase as you press your face into it slightly.

“I--Isn’t this w-weird?”

“Hmm? What’s weird about it?” Your body's on fire under the bed sheets and Jihoon’s touch and he’d barely even done anything to you yet. “I mean, y-you said you’ve never done this but---mmh, you seem so okay with it, J-Jihoon.”

His fingers play with the hem of your panties for a second before they slide against your skin, dipping deeper and deeper until they meet your wet folds. You moan, already rocking against his hand as you search for more contact. “I’m not completely inexperienced. And let’s be honest, hasn’t there been some tension between us anyway?” You almost grimace, knowing damn well you were suffering from your inappropriate dreams and your long ‘baths’ you would take to relieve yourself hoping he didn’t notice. But you also are surprised to hear that he, too, was feeling something towards you.

“Oh, uh… that’s...”

“Mm, I’m really sorry but your long ‘baths’ weren’t really fooling anyone you know.”

The embarrassment from his comment dies immediately when his fingers slide through your folds, spreading your wetness from your hole to your clit before rolling the nub between his fingertips. You moan Jihoon’s name, begging him to touch you more.

He indulges you, coating his middle finger in your wetness before easing it into your pussy. You immediately clench around the digit once he’s knuckle deep, whining when it’s not enough. Jihoon laughs slightly, pumping the digit in and out as he thumbs your clit.

“You’re so eager considering you were hesitant about this. Wanna talk about it?”

“Ngh, can--can we do that later? I’m so s-sensitive right now, Jihoon, I already feel like cumming… Can you… can you talk to me instead?”

“Aren’t I already doing that?” His cheeky reply has you whining again but he eases another finger into your pussy, scissoring the digits inside of you. “F-fuck, you know… what I mean. Please!”

“Is that what you like? Dirty talk?” He nuzzles into your neck, kissing the exposed skin before his lips travel up; kissing the shell of your ear. You hadn’t noticed at first but his body temperature is akin to yours now, the heat making you sweat a little as he fingers you under the sheets. “You know, sometimes when you sleep you make these cute little noises… They sound like pretty moans sometimes and it makes me wonder what you’re dreaming of when you’re wrapped up in my arms.” The wetness between your thighs is obscenely loud when Jihoon thrusts his fingers harder and faster into your pussy, your moans and whimpers mixing in.

“You smelled so good last time too. Maybe it’s just instinct but I really wanted to taste you. Maybe I could taste how sweet you really were if I had said something sooner? I’d get you to cum on my tongue over and over again and then lick up all that sweetness ‘til you’re begging me to stop.” His dirty words are whispered softly into your ear, small kisses in between as he tastes your warm skin.

For once, you really hoped this wasn’t a dream.

“Mmh, Jihoon, I’m--I’m gonna cum…!”

The snake hybrid doesn’t reply, instead rubbing your clit harder as he continues to thrust his fingers into you. And although you weren’t reciprocating anything, Jihoon felt good too, the warmth from your body making him feel comfortable and at ease.

When you finally cum around his fingers, you whimper his name, toes curling as your legs clamp around the hand between them. You can feel your breathing stop for a second as your orgasm crests and Jihoon can feel your walls throbbing around his fingers, a small groan against your ear as he slows his movements until your orgasm starts to ebb away. You don’t really know how much time has passed but the stickiness between your thighs starts to feel uncomfortable as you shift slightly; Jihoon’s fingers still inside of your pussy.

“Ji--Jihoon…”

“Hm? Oh, right.”

He eases his fingers out of you, a whimper escaping your lips at the sensitivity.

Jihoon brings his fingers up to his face over your shoulder, your wetness coated all over the digits as he brings them to his lips. You turn your head slightly, watching him through sleepy eyes as he laps at them, cleaning each finger meticulously as he moans. You almost hate the way you already crave his touch again just from the sight.

When he deems them clean enough, he smiles, satisfied. There’s a yawn on his lips afterward, his arm easing your shirt back down as he wraps an arm around your waist again. You lay there for a few minutes, feeling the urge to sleep pulling you in. But you try to get up to get cleaned off, finding yourself already locked into Jihoon’s hold as the male has seemingly already fallen asleep within the few minutes since.

You sigh, easing into his hold as you toss the idea of even trying to get cleaned up out the window. You lay there thinking about all the things you and Jihoon would need to talk about in the morning; thousands of different scenarios flitting through your mind of how it could go. You momentarily think of all the questions you want to ask Jihoon as well. But sleep eventually finds you, eyes drooping shut as you finally welcome it.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Hello! I just found your yt channel (it's amazing) and watched your video on writing diversely. What an awesome video, I learnt and took away a lot from you and your thoughts, especially as a white writer. I am still however a little conflicted on one thing. Not just writing the characters as another race or gender or identity of any kind from the writer, but the actual main character. Would it automatically be offensive and destined for failure for a white author to write a black main protag?

Hi there! I’m happy you found the video helpful, thank you for watching! This is a link to the video if anyone reading this has not watched it.

To be honest, I think I explained this as concisely and accurately as I could in the video as it’s truly the thesis of the video itself. I don’t want to fully reiterate what I said in the video because I feel like I won’t be as accurate/coherent, so I urge you to rewatch the video and take care to look at the timestamps as that may clarify your particular question, first and foremost! Taking a look at some of the comments too might also be helpful.

Stay in your lane as a detrimental, albeit well-intentioned, mantra

As I say in the video, it’s not as easy as saying “white people can’t write XYZ main character” or “we can write whatever we want”, nor is it as easy as and saying “stay in your line” , which may inadvertently enforce the majority as publishing is majorly white (stats are in the video). I believe I did address main characters too in that video, but whatever I said about characters in general 100% applies to POV/main characters as I was rebutting the well-intentioned, but perhaps detrimental idea that it’s only appropriate for a marginalized POV character to be written by someone marginalized in the same way (IMO, long-term, this will cause an influx of white POV stories which is the opposite of the intention [people say “stay in your lane” will allow marginalized folks to represent themselves rather than have white people represent us] as the publishing industry a) is mostly white and b) only seems to care to actively publish white people. “Stay in your lane” may also inadvertently define the role a marginalized person should play in the writing industry [responsible for writing stories about their marginalization]).

Writing POC main characters = automatically offensive/destined to fail?

If you’re viewing or questioning if writing a POC MC is “automatically offensive” or “destined for failure” I really urge you to rewatch the video because this is covered quite extensively but particularly take a look at the “trade fear for empathy” section as this question in itself is laden in a black and white binary of right versus wrong. If you’re asking this question, it might be that you are lacking the empathy to understand what I’m saying in the video (which is okay! there are many others who I’ve further discussed with in the comments). Writing POC isn’t something that’s destined to fail just because you’re a white author IF you do your research, be respectful, write empathetically and craft well-rounded, complex people. If you’re thinking you might automatically fail in this department because you are a white person, I did mention in the video that you may not be ready to write diverse characters in the respectful, robust ways necessary because you may be viewing POC as a “pass or fail” system which is obviously not what we are. If you want to write a diverse POV character and you do your research, write empathetically, speak to those people from that community (with their consent) and be willing to adjust your representation with that feedback without getting defensive, I don’t see how this would be automatically offensive or destined for failure, just like anything else that requires research.

Disproportionate amounts of white versus POC writers being published

In terms of publication failure, white people are actually the ones being majorly represented to write marginalized stories (when they don’t share that marginalization), so you probably wouldn’t have a problem getting a POC-lead story published (not saying I think this is right) because publishers treat diversity as a quota/marketing tactic and IMO, don’t seem to actually care about representation on a structural level, but rather on a topical, superficial level (which is why my main point in that video is that publishers, not individual writers, need to be held accountable).

White writers accidentally “dehumanize” POC in a misguided attempt at being empathetic

I think some white people, (and I don’t exactly want to use this word because it is quite severe but illustrates what I mean) may accidentally “dehumanize” people of colour in worrying that whatever move they’re going to make is automatically going to offend us, when in reality, if you take the time, and put in the effort to research and get to know people of colour (from my comments, these worries often stem from white people who don’t know many people of colour IRL), you will see that yes, we are different from you and difference is good, but no, this difference does not make us an untouchable, unknowable species. I don’t mean to make this seem like an “I don’t see colour” or “the only race is the human race” argument, which would be harmful, but rather a reminder that people of colour are also human beings and as you would write a white character with empathy, integrity, and vigour, you should also do the same when writing characters of colour (I address this in more detail in the video).

Doing personal research in times of confusion

I understand that as a white person, thinking about and understanding these issues may not be particularly easy, and even after a nearly hour long video of me expressing these thoughts, I genuinely do understand why someone who is not affected by these issues daily may still struggle with grasping these concepts. That’s because anti-racism is not something you can accomplish by watching one video, or reading a few articles--it’s a lifelong commitment, and so that’s when you would take your privilege as a white person to do more digging before you ask questions to those who have to expel emotional labour to answer them for you (not saying I have any problem answering your question at all, but putting this out there because there are many well meaning white people who I’ve encountered in my comments that do ask me or other BIPOC questions before turning to other resources that wouldn’t require free labour). Take some time to ruminate with this info, and then do some digging of your own. If you haven’t checked out these, these are my favourite anti-racism resources, all of which are free to access (noted otherwise):

Jane Coaston - The Intersectionality wars

A pretty comprehensive place to start with Kimberle Crenshaw’s theory of Intersectionality

Peggy McIntosh - White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack

Wonderful place to start in understanding white privilege for those who don’t understand the differences/nuances between race VS class VS gender privilege etc

Article that explores white privilege beyond McIntosh’s ideas

It’s really important that white people also learn the systemic ways in which they benefit from white privilege and not just the “bandaids are made in my skintone” examples (though those examples are often used first because they’re the easiest to understand for a white person who is affected by other intersections, i.e. class, sexuality, gender, who does not feel they are privileged in other ways i.e. race).

Documentary on white privilege (Jane Elliott’s Brown Eyes VS Blue Eyes experiment)

Angela Davis - How Does Change Happen?

bell hooks - Ending Domination: The Struggle Continues

Abena Busia - In Search of Chains Without Iron: On Sisterhood, History, and the Politics of Location

I was able to access this reading through my university but IMO it is a must-read, especially for non-POC who may not fully understand the privilege of whiteness.

Claire Heuchan - Your Silence Will Not Protect You: Racism in the Feminist Movement 

**Absolute must-read: “The theory did not emerge in order to aid white women in their search for cookies – it was developed predominantly by Black feminists with a view to giving women of colour voice (Heuchan).”

Tamela J. Gordon - Why I’m giving up on intersectional feminism 

Powerful perspective on Intersectionality and how it’s been used in white feminism

Jennifer L. Pozner - How to Talk About Racism, Sexism and Bigotry With Your Friends and Family

Really good place to start if you have loved ones in need of education.

Maria Lugones - Playfulness, “World”-Travelling, and Loving Perception

This is the absolute crux of my points in writing empathetically.

"The paper describes the experience of 'outsiders' to the mainstream of, for example, White/Anglo organization of life in the U.S. and stresses a particular feature of the outsider's existence: the outsider has necessarily acquired flexibility in shifting from the mainstream construction of life where she is constructed as an outsider to other constructions of life where she is more or less 'at home.' This flexibility is necessary for the outsider but it can also be willfully exercised by the outsider or by those who are at ease in the mainstream. I recommend this willful exercise which I call "world"-travelling and I also recommend that the willful exercise be animated by an attitude that I describe as playful" (Lugones 3). 

^^^ For writers struggling with the prospect of diversity and trying to find a place to start in what I call in my video "letting go of fear and voraciously welcoming empathy" I highly recommend this article as it is a powerful account of travelling across each other's "worlds". Read it for free with a free JStor account or through your institution, like your public library.

How to BLACK: An Analysis of Black Cartoon Characters

A FANTASTIC video that is an absolute must-watch (covers writing empathetically, writing with care)

If you have not already, read through the sources I used to formulate and argue my thesis in my video (much more detailed than I could do in an hour!):

Corinne Duyvis (ownvoices creator) on # ownvoices

CCBC - "Publishing Statistics on Children's/YA Books about People of Color and First/Native Nations and by People of Color and First/Native Nations Authors and Illustrators"

Hannah Heath - "5 Problems Within the Own Voices Campaign (And How to Fix Them)"

Saadia Faruqi - "The Struggle Between Diversity and Own Voices"

Kat Rosenfield (Refinery29) - "What is # ownvoices doing to our books?"

Lee and Low - "Diversity Baseline Survey 2019 Results"

Vulture - "Who Gave You the Right To Tell That Story"

School Library Journal - "An Updated Look at Diversity in Children's Books"

TL;DR: if you’re more overcome with the fear of offending people (often grounded in white fragility) instead of making the active, albeit sometimes uncomfortable, decision to do the hard work necessary to empathetically represent someone outside of your marginalization in fiction, I don’t think you’re ready to write POC in the nuanced, complex, empathetic ways necessary for good representation, and I would encourage you do more independent anti-racist work. (Note that “you” is not individualistically aimed at the asker!!)

Questions like this don’t necessarily have a clear-cut answer, and that is essentially the point of my video (I know, not super helpful, but I hope that makes sense!).

Hope this helps!

--Rachel

[ethereal-ineffability]

HELL YEAH, DUDE! INFO DUMP ABOUT YOUR OC, OR SO HELP ME!

eyyyyyyyyy. CW for discussion of violent fictional bigots leading to body image issues. Okay so here's the thing. My boy Curio a sweet, kind of shy, well-meaning, socially awkward 28-year-old wizard. Tallish, no muscles whatsoever, big round glasses, kind of stupid facial hair, your standard stereotype.

Except that's not what he looks like, really.

That image is missing a Hat of Disguise (grey irish flat-cap), which he wears constantly, even while sleeping unless he can be sure he's alone. His full first name is Curiosity and what he actually looks like is somewhere around these two pictures, except with broken horns and a helluva lot more faded-over-2-decades facial scarring.

That childhood scarring is the reason why he literally never takes the hat off, no matter what; not because of the scarring itself, but because of what it represents. He grew up with so much baggage attached to his identity as a tiefling because, apart from a very supportive but imperfect and over-her-head single human mother, he had no support network in a small town where he was the only tiefling and almost-if-not-all of the entire town were superstitious humans who were very not interested in examining their biases. The children his age and a few years older were the ones who gave him most of that damage. But there's a reason his mother named him Curiosity; ever since he was old enough to explore, he did so enthusiastically and constantly, and after enough of that (and playing mostly alone) he developed skills that other kids his age didn't have, and he essentially became a gifted child. His mom took advantage of that (and some favors with an old friend) when the bullying got especially bad and got Curio scholarships to send him away to a mage's college in a more open-minded area where he would be protected and taken care of, in exchange for helping with tasks around the college until he was old enough to become an official student. The college became his life. He threw himself into the study of everything having to do with magic - history, mechanics, culture, ethics, etc. - partly as distraction, partly as hyperfixation (I do imagine he's neurodivergent in some way), and partly, subconsciously, as a desperate way to grasp at some sort of explanation for why he exists the way that he does and why the world around him is the way that it is. The enchanted hat was something he got at some point during his time at the college, and it essentially became a comfort item for him, and even though he probably could have gotten by without it with *less* problems than he had in his hometown, he just refused to go without it for years after the fact both out of fear of what could happen again and out of what had become, at that point, a deeply ingrained sense that he was just *wrong* and that he needed to hide himself to avoid burdening others. And all of that is just background for his situation in the current campaign, as a 7th-level wizard who has been traveling with a southern sweetheart druid satyr, a young-looking and mysterious dreamfolk warlock, a puss-in-boots-esque tabaxi fighter, a sweet grandmotherly minotaur barbarian, and a tiefling sorcerer in his late 40's who has a lot of backstory commonalities with Curio, particularly being raised by a single mother, having bad experiences as a kid due to his fiendish heritage, leaving home young, and hiding his appearance when he was younger. (Side note, the sorcerer's player and I *did not plan this*. We both came up with backstories independently, we didn't really have a session 0, and we just now found out how weirdly similar our characters' lives have been, though there's obviously been some differences too.) I started out this campaign by letting all the players know openly that Curio was not human, because I knew I couldn't keep a secret. In the 9 months we've been playing (we had a hiatus for a few, so it's more like 6-7 months of weekly to bi-weekly sessions), the character that's come the closest to figuring it out has been the sorcerer, Turavel, because he has obvious advantages when it comes to picking out which things just don't seem right for a human wizard to do. For example, on top of the weirdness of Curio never taking the hat off, sleeping alone often, bathing alone often, etc., he barely (roll of 15 vs 14) caught Curio tearing up when Turavel was talking about where he came from, and he thought it was weird that Curio could cast things like Hellish Rebuke. (The player, actually, was the only one of us to call this out when it happened, so I made note of it.) At the time (months ago irl, about 2-4 weeks ago in game time), I as the player didn't think Curio's cover had been blown, because I was convinced that Wizards could cast Hellish Rebuke, and I

even informed the player that Curio has fake entries in his spellbook for Hellish Rebuke, Thaumaturgy, and Darkness, just in case anyone ever saw it who also saw him cast those things. But I discovered today while searching for level-up spells for him that I was wrong. As soon as I realized, I sent Turavel's player these messages:

"Looking through wizard-only spells and realized that I as the player made ANOTHER mistake, specifically about which spells would be natural to see a wizard use, which means Curio made another mistake because I'm not retconning anything I said about what he's done. Whoopsie Since you actually called it out at the time (not the latest nat 1, the one time Curio used it before that) I'll be clear with you: Hellish Rebuke is a 2nd level, Warlock-only spell. Curio has the Magic Initiate feat, which might explain why he knows Thaumaturgy which is a cleric-only spell, since his 1st level spell for that feat is Healing Word which is exclusive to clerics, bards, and druids... but if that were the case that wouldn't explain why he can also use Vicious Mockery, which only works with bardic magic. He would have had to have learned Healing Word in a bardic way, leaving Thaumaturgy unaccounted for, unless there's just some explanation other than fiendish heritage or magic initiate that Turavel has literally never heard of before. Maybe there's a bardic college that would allow for the learning of Thaumaturgy? Unlikely. In that case Hellish Rebuke would still be unaccounted for, unless Curio has a secret patron and is a multiclassed warlock/wizard. Occam's razor. And since Turavel's the only one who asked to see his spellbook [in return, after Curio asked to see the spellbooks of all the other spellcasters], help me remember and I'll let you contest me on arcana with advantage to put all this together when we meet next."

And that's where we are. Curio's about to get fully found out because of overthinking and overprotecting himself in ways that weren't necessary, after just casually and confidently trading spellbooks - for strategic study - with the one person in the party who was always leagues more likely than anyone else to figure out what was going on. The same sorcerer who is old enough to be Curio's father and knows almost *exactly* what he's going through, and who Curio would probably be the most ashamed to be found out by, because he would probably be worried that his disguising of his tiefling nature would be interpreted as an insult even though Curio has terrible anxiety about the whole thing and literally can't help it. And I just think it's extra fun that the reason this is happening so soon is because of decisions I made intentionally as a player to make it *harder* to find him out, while truly thinking about what he would actually do. And I swear to god if that roll at advantage doesn't work I'm giving him all the inspiration I've got, because this is too good. I'm excited for the ensuing cathartic drama and for this precious boy to finally start learning how to love himself. p.s. in case any readers haven't picked up by now it's a closeted-trans-youth meets open-trans-elder allegory. This is what happens when you play DnD with other trans people

[alteridolriley]

"In awe, the first time you realised it" with rivya pretty pretty pleaasee

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAXI!!! this ask is old af but I was inspired so I wrote you this rivya drabble fic thinggggg idk i hope you enjoy it!!

(These characters are our own ocs based on the Sanders Sides from this blog. This is an irl AU so enjoy!! Some Sides might show up idk why don't you read and find out hehe)

On mobile so sorry for no read more :(

---

River felt himself waking up; the stream of his consciousness pulling his thoughts to the real world around him. He slowly opened his eyes to see the glow of the early morning sun peeking through the edge of the curtain he swore he had tucked behind the bookshelf so it wouldn't get him right in the face, but alas, it had failed. River sighed, pulling their comforter over their head in denial.

Mondays sucked and River did not want to pull themselves out of bed, but within seconds of stretching their arms above their head, a shrill alarm from their phone began to sound on the side table next to their bed. River slapped around until successfully snoozing the alarm before throwing the blanket off.

There was one reason and one reason only River was getting up for class on this day. He had that one class today - economics. And that one boy was in it. The transfer student.

He had the gall to talk to River the day before, and several days before that. As well as the day the teacher had given him the seat next to River.

"Hello." The boy had said as he sat down. His hood covered most of his face but River could see his right eye and a soft smile on his face. "My name is Arya. It's nice to meet you."

River had glanced his way, their chin balanced on their palm. With the intent to simply brush him off, River had opened his mouth only to feel his words caught in his throat once he had made eye contact with the gentle boy.

"I'm River." River had managed to cough out that day. "Pleasure."

It was a dry introduction, but it didn't seem to offend Arya at all. He had smiled again and turned to his bag in front of him, pulling his notebook and pen out as River heard the teacher begin to speak.

River had been brought back to his dorm room by a jolt of him missing his pant leg while trying to get dressed. Arya had left him feeling weird that first day and every day after that, Arya had continued to say hello and be super kind to him. River didn't really understand why Arya was acting that way-- if Arya knew River at all, he would know that River didn't deserve that kind of kindness.

River zipped his jacket up and heard his cell phone begin to chime again, but this time it was a text tone. He absent-mindedly reached for the phone, unlocking it in one motion.

He bit his lip as he saw a message from his brother- his twin, Meph. Meph had chosen not to go to college but to work at a friend's laboratory. River sometimes regretted going to college but since he was there on a scholarship, it only made sense to stay. Besides, Meph had only chosen not to go to college to help River actually go for his dream: to be a marine biologist.

River loved the ocean. It was his favorite place to be and if he managed to put his past behind him and become a marine biologist, he'd never have to leave the ocean again. Meph had gotten the job with his friend to pay the bills so River could focus on school.

Meph the Grump: Hey so Nic needs me to stay late again this weekend so I won't be able to come up to visit. Maybe we can work something out for next weekend. Just let me know.

River sighed and locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket. That makes the 3rd time Meph canceled on him in the last month. River didn't really know what Nicolaus did for a living but Meph was apparently very important to the lab. It paid for the roof over his head so River ignored the pain of disappointment running through his chest.

He grabbed his bag before stopping by the mirror near the front door. Messing with his hair for only a few moments, he sighed and left the house, locking the front door behind him. His college was a mere three blocks away so walking was the simplest way of getting there.

River began the trek down the semi busy street, staring at the ground as he walked. From the corners of their sight, River watched the world go around him: People walked solo past; some girls in groups crossing the street laughing together; a single mom holding her baby while opening the door to a store.

The world kept going despite of all the troubles people had. River knew this and yet he always wondered what he looked like from that perspective. Was he intimidating? Were they interesting to the world around them or forgettable?

River adjusted his back on his shoulder as he stopped at a crosswalk. Several people lingered around him as they all waited for the traffic light to change. As he considered his plans for the weekend now that Meph wasn't coming into town anymore, he realized he was staring across the road at a familiar face.

It was Arya. However, Arya was standing against a brick building with another few men around him. River scrunched his face in curiosity and confusion. He had never seen Arya outside of class and he walked this street everyday. Wouldn't they have crossed paths before?

River heard the chime of the crosswalk allowing pedestrians to pass as suddenly one of the men grabbed Arya by the shoulder rather roughly. Arya stumbled into one of the other taller men who shoved him back towards the building. River felt his blood boil nearly instantly as he took off across the street. He was still fairly far away but he picked up the pace as the three men pulled Arya down an alleyway behind the brick building.

"I promise I'll have it to you soon. I will. I will." Arya's voice filtered through the air as River got closer. It was staggered and breathless; shaky and soft. He was clearly scared. "I know I said today, but my job hasn't paid me yet so--"

CRACK.

River dashed around the corner, hearing a bone crushing noise as they did so. It took River's eyes a few seconds while blinking to adjust to the darkness of the alley only to see Arya on the ground, unmoving.

"You bastards! What did you do to him?" River shouted as he stomped forward, leaving barely any space between himself and the strangers. His heart was racing-- Arya still hadn't moved. "Arya! Hey!" River shouted as the men laughed.

"Arya has a friend? Haha, that's the funniest thing I've heard all day," said the tallest man, turning to face River. "You should scram, kid, if you know what's good for you."

"Kid? I'm not a child, and I'm not scared of you." River said confidently, even though his hand was trembling. He was convinced it was his anger peaking. "Get away from him." River snarled through bared teeth.

The leader looked at his two friends and all three of them laughed.

"Kid, I don't think you understand the situation you're in." the Leader scoffed before suddenly darting towards River with his fist reared back.

In one step, River bent down, dodging him swiftly and flattening his right hand, shoving it perfectly timed onto the man's elbow forcing it the wrong direction. River heard the satisfying snap of the bone.

"Sonofabitch!" The leader shouted, falling to the ground, grasping towards his left arm. His partners ran to his side as he struggled to stand. "I won't forget this!" He growled as the three of them took off out of the alley.

River relaxed his stance, releasing a deep breath before spinning on his heel and dashing back to where Arya lay still unmoving. River fell to his knees, picking Arya up gently.

"Hey... hey Arya." They whispered, shaking the boy. Within a minute, Arya's eyes opened and he immediately pushed away from River, the innate fear of the other men still fresh. "No, Arya, it's okay-- it's me." River held his hands up.

Arya's breathing slowed as he realized the other three men were gone. His hand snapped to his head, his left eye closing in pain. Silence fell between the two of them. River wasn't sure what to say, and Arya... he looked like he might pass out at any moment.

"What are you doing here?" Arya broke the silence. His voice was scratchy but still the soft, kind tone River was used to hearing in class. "This doesn't concern you."

River scoffed, "The hell it doesn't! Who were those men? What did they want from you?" Arya stayed silent, choosing to look anywhere but River's face. "Fine then, I guess it doesn't matter..." he stood up to leave.

"Wait!" Arya jumped to his feet.

River turned to see Arya reaching out towards him only for the boy to be overcome by his injuries. His eyes rolled back and he fell towards the ground. River was quick enough to catch him before he made contact with the pavement. The momentum of the fall had caused Arya's hood to reveal his full face. River blinked in surprise-- the right side of Arya's face was covered with a severe burn scar. How had they never noticed it before?

Out of respect, River pulled Arya's hood back over his head and held the boy close.

"Excuse me."

A voice from behind them both caused River to whip around, holding on to Arya even tighter.

A man stood there, holding his bowler hat in front of his face. His cape like top blew in the wind of the alley and his yellow gloved hands nearly look illuminescent in the alley.

"Who are you?" River demanded.

"I am that boy's guardian, and I would appreciate you giving him to me." The man said as he put his hat on his head. It revealed his face to be similar to Arya except the left side of his was... a snake, wait what?

River stood, holding Arya in his arms. "Why should I believe you? Maybe I should take him and run away?"

"No, that's not necessary. You see... that boy is not human, my dear." The man began to walk closer. "Well, not anymore." He stopped walking. "Ah, how rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Janus."

"Okay... Janus what do you want with Arya?" River questioned, backing up a step.

"Oh no. You misunderstand. Arya came to me, you see. Alone and with nothing to lose, he made a deal. A deal with a snake." Janus explained, the snake side of his face never losing the grin it held. "Losing your entire family in a fire you caused and leaving yourself scarred for life is a rough thing to go through. He wanted to forget-- however it comes with a price."

"Yeah well... he needs medical treatment from whatever those assholes did to him so I'm taking him to the hospital. He's not going with you." River said firmly. "So I'll be leaving now."

River adjusted Arya in his arms before brushing past Janus toward the main street. River never once looked back and kept walking, avoiding the busier streets with nosey people. A regular hospital would ask too many questions. It was time to pay an old friend a visit.

After a ten minute walk, River arrived at what looked like a simple flower shop. He walked inside. A boy stood behind the main counter and turned to face them.

"Oh River! It's been awhile." He said. "Oh... is your friend hurt?"

"Yeah... can you help him Gabriel?" River asked as Gabriel held a back door open for them to walk through.

"Of course. Let's get him checked out." Gabriel assured.

River placed Arya on a rather large bed and sat down across from him and Gabriel in a plastic chair. River could feel the tension leaving his body finally and the realization of everything that happened was making his mind race as he watched Gabriel check Arya's vitals. Who were those three original men? Who was Janus? Was Janus telling the truth when he said Arya wasn't human anymore? What did that even mean? Nothing about this morning made any sense.

"River?" Gabriel's voice called them out of their stupor and River could see Arya was covered by a blanket now and his hoodie has been removed. "Are you okay? Do you need me to check you too?" Gabriel reached and felt River's head before they could lean away.

"No I'm fine." River assured.

Before Gabriel could ask again, a chime went off above their heads: a customer had walked into the flower shop. Gabriel excused himself and left the room. The room became silent other than the ticking of the clock on the far wall.

River stood up and walked to look at Arya. He looked peacefully asleep and more relaxed than before. Gabriel must've given him some medication. River pushed Arya's bangs out of his face and Arya stirred a bit, as if he was going to wake up.

"River.... wait.. please..." Arya murmured, his eyes still closed but tightened in fear. A dream. "I can explain... don't go... I need you."

River grabbed Arya's hand, intertwining their fingers. Arya seemed to relax and stopped talking. River was an idiot-- why hadn't he noticed it before? All of those feelings towards Arya... it was love. A need to protect.

"Don't worry, Arya..." River sat down on the side of the bed, brushing their fingers down the side of Arya's face. "I'm not going anywhere."

FIN.

[reynesofcastamere]

Surface Breach(2/3)[β]

(A/N: Good grief but it has been a while since my last contribution to the ship. Sad to say I’ve been caught up with several irl things, including moving and settling in to the new place. Rest assured, I do have several drafts in the works for other projects and I am hoping to set up a regular writing/submission schedule. Now that that’s out of the way...Warnings for: possessive behaviour, emotional manipulation, (negotiated) bondage, blindfolding, edging, cockwarming, blood, masochism and mentions of polyamory, coitus interruptus, and non-consensual play.  Unbeta’d and NSFW.)

Ahsoka knows the second she sets foot on her ship that time is up. She could still flee, drag this game out a bit longer and drive up the level of his frustration...But what would be the point, really? It’s been months since they parted ways, and while she hasn’t avoided his calls, she’s also made a point of not meeting with him in person. A reprimand for his behaviour, and a reminder of the challenge she’d issued.  She recalls the first, trembling breath of relief she’d taken after the medical scans were complete. He has no further hold over her than this. Nothing burrowed and secreted away beneath her skin to...Do any number of things, really. Most of which she’d rather not consider right now.

Maul is of course perfectly at ease in the pilot’s seat, already turned to face her. “Lady Tano. I trust that your last assignment was successful.” He’s being neutral, bordering on pleasant, even. But the tension is there, kept in check by the slimmest thread of restraint. “And I trust that you’re not here for small talk.” Ahsoka makes certain to keep a few feet of distance between them, arms crossed. The corner of his mouth twitches, the speed of it leaving her unsure of whether he meant to smirk or grimace. “You have business on Nar Shadaa, and I have certain...interests that need tending there.” “So you decided to catch a ride. Without asking.”  “You would have refused even if I had offered compensation. This is the most expedient method of travel.” Maul’s eyes narrow, attempting to pierce through and determine her intent. “Unless you plan to run in order to spite me.” “I’m not running anywhere.” Ahsoka retorts. “But I’m also not going to spend three whole days in hyperspace...entertaining you.” “Naturally. However, when we are not occupied with tasks and other essentials, you will make good on your promise, my Lady. Now please, sit.”  She takes up residence in the navigator’s seat, given that he’s obviously not willing to move. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What does it matter, if you are not truly mine? Just a monster’s delusion. Unless...”

“Don’t. Start. You can use either of my names. Just not...that.” “As you wish.”

Nothing else is said for some time. Even after the ship takes off, the course is set in, and space has blurred into blue lines, there are other responsibilities that need to be taken care of. Ahsoka has to stop herself from dragging out the time. She’s not looking forward to this. The discussion she needs to have with him, not what might happen afterward.

“Look, if this is going to continue, there need to be some ground rules.”

 “Explain.”

“First off: Unless I’m badly injured or in immediate danger, you’re not allowed to just...carry me back to your lair, no matter what your reasons are.” He’s more than capable of coming up with a multitude of excuses to do so. Which is why she’s cutting him off at the knees, figuratively speaking.  “Second: This arrangement doesn’t interfere with work. Ever. Third: I decide when anything starts. You’re not allowed to grab or molest me in any way before that.” 

Maul appears mildly amused, but the small tics that betray his impatience are growing. “This seems rather excessive for a casual arrangement.”

 Ahsoka pins him in place with a look and a hint of a Force hold. “I’m not finished. Fourth: Any marks left behind have to be concealable.” She’d walk away from this ‘business trip’ with more visible punctures in her than being dropped into a giant cacti forest on Yavin 13 otherwise.  “Fifth: No matter how far along we are, if I say ‘kyber’, we stop what we’re doing. No questions, no persuasion, nothing. If you don’t have a safeword, then pick one and tell me.”

“Is ‘stop’ somehow inadequate?” The question is soft as she releases her unseen grasp on him. Even seated, something in him reminds her of a hunter in the moment before a kill; tense with anticipation and bloodthirst.   “No.” She wets her lower lip. There’s no going back from this confession, hard as it had been for her to admit it to herself. Much less him.  “When I use ‘stop’, it usually means ‘go harder’.”

Maul’s grip is practically throttling the armrest at this point. He is trying, from the shudder in his breath, to follow the rules she’s set out so far. That’s a good sign. His eyes, though? There’s a flicker in them that she used to see from the people she’d helped or rescued during the war. The ones who fully believed that the Jedi were capable of miracles and could do no wrong. A kind of...awe. Achingly soft, and in his case, almost buried beneath avarice and raw desire. She fights the urge to squirm, and it’s not entirely from discomfort. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Good, ‘scimitar’ should suffice. I have some conditions of my own.” Every word is a caress, heavy and deliberate. “You are, of course, free to object.” He produces the blindfold she’d given him from within his shirt. She remembers exactly how he’d taken her apart; bound by choice and utterly enthralled. “So long as you wear this, you will obey.” Maul purrs, heat suffusing her body as he winds and pulls the fabric taut between his fingers. “I’m not going to call you ‘Master’.” Ahsoka is certain he’d like almost nothing more. She gets far too much pleasure out of denying him, however. So he’ll have to earn it first.

“Yet.” Maul responds, overconfident ass that he is. “I have no desire for you to dull your tongue. But you will submit to my commands.” He leans in, nearly closing the gap between them, but not quite. “Such as if I tell you to get down on your knees and show me how you pleasure yourself.” He’s only saying it to provide an example, yet her thighs rub together all the same at the thought. Sightless, her cunt exposed and dripping while he watches, giving obscene praise and instructions on how to bring herself to orgasm.

“Should you want to take control, all you need do is remove it. Or ask that it be taken off.” Of course he’s not done yet. Has to finish having his say first, and bring her arousal to a fever-pitch with the only options currently allowed. “Any amount of marks you receive from other paramours, I will match in number, and I will take first priority.” There is a jealous glint, a madness in his eyes that should terrify her. “Regardless of your position and how close your mutual release is.”  Ahsoka sucks in a sharp breath. “You really expect me to just...make someone leave while they’re-”  “Yes.” Maul snarls, hushed and vicious in a way that brooks no refusal. Much as she might like to, if she does not compromise, give some inch of ground...He will lash out. Ultimately, he’s not asking for much. So far. “And should you draw a weapon on me again-” His left hand circles her jaw without actually making contact, though the intent is clear. “-be prepared to use it.” Her gaze falls to his throat, his markings almost concealing the burn scar she’d given him. But not quite. That he’d chosen to keep it at all is- “Do we have an agreement, Ahsoka Tano?”

 A small eternity seems to pass between her indrawn breath and the resulting answer. “Yes.” Ahsoka looks at him again without fear. Straight into the eyes of the monster, the murderer, the tyrant she has and will be taking into her bed for the forseeable future. “Go ahead.” The first kiss is nothing short of a conquest, taken with broken vocalizations and sharp bites. She lets him pull her in, straddling his lap in the pilot’s seat while they break for air, and offering no resistance when he ties the blindfold securely in place. “Undress. Completely.” Softer now, his lips ghosting along her jawline. It takes a bit of effort, but before long she is bared to him, nipples pebbled from arousal, the air, and the cold presence of the Dark Side. The body beneath her, the bare hands that trace and mould her form are nearly white-hot by comparison. “Perfect...Turn around, and place your hands behind my neck.” Ahsoka obeys, shuddering in pleasure as he purrs. The cuffs he attaches to her wrists are made of some kind of leather, and she instinctively tests the give of the metal chain between them. Sturdy, but nothing she can’t break out of.

The position leaves her undeniably exposed and at his mercy. She expects none, yet he grants it anyway. With each stroke, squeeze, and tug of his fingers down her body, he steadily tunes her nerves to exquisite sensitivity. He never quite touches her core, preferring to caress and grip her inner thighs and the curve of her breasts even as she pants and shifts restlessly. She can feel him against her, hard and unyielding, the cloth barrier separating them gradually being saturated with her essence. And still he makes no effort to hurry things along. “I thought you wanted to -haaaaahhhh- punish me for making you wait this long.”  “You made a game of testing my patience. It is only fitting that I return the favour. I will keep you here, on the precipice between agony and bliss...Until, in your desperation, you beg me to ‘stop’.” Maul pinches her throbbing bud and she whines an incoherent stream of vowels. “Although...Hm. Your impulsive side is endearing.”

“What are you rambling on ab-AnnnnnH!” He bites down on her shoulder while slightly twisting the bundle of nerves held captive between his digits. She’s bleeding and the pain between her legs is pure torture, but she still wants-

‘I will grant your release early. If you ask to be fucked.” “You can’t be serious.” “Three simple words are all that stand in your way.”

“Why not just order me to say it?”

“Why should I, when you so clearly want to? Despite your self-denial.”  There’s no longer anything gentle about his touch, how his nails dig in and rake across her inner thighs while her shoulders and upper back gain a rapidly-growing collection of teeth-marks. His shaft is still there, still covered and rigid, rubbing against her hot and sodden core. Ahsoka is on the verge of sobbing. Or breaking her restraints to just seize what he’s dangling in front of her. But if all it takes is a couple of words...”Please, fuck me.” She whispers, rough from repressing her whimpers.

“Again.” His lips on her throat, feeling the command rumbling against her vocal cords.

She grits her teeth and snarls. “Fuck. Me. Please. You smug, overbearing bastard.” Maul’s fingers curve over and tug her recently-abused pearl, and she is lost, sent tumbling and screaming into the abyss.

Her body is still quivering in the aftermath when he presses in. A slow invasion, one that encounters no resistance until he is fully secured within her walls. At first, she thinks he just wants her to ride him. Yet before she can start... “I will give you a choice.” Maul’s voice is low enough to feel in her bones. “If you can keep relatively still for fifteen minutes, you will be taken against the control panel. And if you are very good, Ahsoka-” Her name on his lips is electric and scandalous, her body arching as if pulled by unseen strings. “-I will get down on my knees and devour you first.” She should never have given him permission to use it in the first place. His other...’endearments’ are easy to brush off. Somehow, hearing those three syllables in this moment is more intimate than having him inside her, feeling the incremental shifts between their bodies with each breath. 

Ahsoka raises herself up, almost to the point of letting his shaft slip out, then drops back down. She can feel him hiss, how his hips jolt up on instinct once before he stops himself. “Mmmm. Think your other option is bad enough to stop me from putting this to better use?” She’s teasing now, circling and rolling her hips in a way that takes him deep, but not all the way in again. Having Maul relatively immobile is a new experience. Even when he’s not being rough, he’s hardly still. It probably won’t last, but so long as his patience holds out...Using him like a sex toy is doing a lot to rev her up right now. He seizes her head-tail and pulls, bending Ahsoka’s neck back at an uncomfortable angle, free hand grasping one of her thighs to force a stop to her movements. “Keep this up and I assure you, ja’ti mirtis{my death}, you will not enjoy sitting when I am done with you.” Maul rasps, his mouth so close to her left montral that she can feel his lips brushing against it with every word. Her core trembles, breath coming in short, sharp pants. “I wonder which would bring you more pleasure? Being bent over the edge of your cot to be mounted and used...Or disciplined until that option becomes a mercy?”  Something like insanity seizes her. It’s the only explanation for what she says next. “Both.” Ahsoka breathes. “I want-Take these off, please.” The light is harsh for the few seconds it takes her eyes to adjust, wrists slightly chafed from the cuffs as she carefully turns to face him. “I need both.” Her hands gently circle his face. “Can you do that? Get me ready with your mouth, and take me nice and slow right here?” He seems transfixed, almost unable to believe the words falling from her lips. “Think of how wet I’ll be, when you’ve finished your ‘discipline’ and I’m just aching to be ruined.” Ahsoka can taste the hunger when he captures her mouth, how similar it is to her own. Her nails claw at his shoulderblades, seeking purchase, to bury herself in him, anything. “Yes, Ahsoka.” Maul whispers, between their lips meeting in repeated, feverish collisions. “You have only to ask.” (A/N: Some of you may have noticed a slight change in the numbers up top. So yes, there will be one more chapter to this particular story. 8D Cheers, everyone!)

[chiapetirl]

Bleach: Revisited Series

Hello, (Bleach) Tumblr! I’m back after... a while!

I used to be chiapet-irl on tumblr, and now I’m back to remake my fanfiction-based tumblr. I am the author of the ongoing Bleach: Revisited Series and just wanted to make a post promoting it real quick!

What is B:R?

Bleach: Revisited is a canon rewrite of the original Bleach Series, starting from the beginning of the Arrancar arc and going towards (and past) the TYBW arc. It is an IchiRuki based series, but IchiHime shippers are welcome and loved. There are a few OC’s, LGBT+ pairings, and quite of bit of world building, so if those are your things, then give it a read! 

We are currently at two novels (over half a million words) so it is a long, long series (just so you’re aware!).

Here’s a quick excerpt from the first book:

"You play guitar?" Tatsuki asked, her eyes wide. "H-how'd you get a guitar in the Soul Society?"

Shuhei finished chewing, fishing another noodle from his bowl. "I picked one up while on a mission here," he said. "It was about a month or two ago, I think. This guy was throwing it away, which I thought was strange, since it was almost in perfect shape." He shook his head, smirking a bit. "I think he just couldn't figure out to use it," he explained, "or he had given up on learning how to."

Laughing, Tatsuki shook her head. "That's a shame," she said. "At least you got a free guitar out of it, though. You'll have to play sometime for us!" She took another bite, excited. Shuhei looked a little embarrassed, placing his utensils on the table.

"W-well, I've never played for an audience, you see," he said. "My division members don't really like hearing me play, so I kind of… have to go off and practice on my own, so I'm not that sure I'm good at it."

Tatsuki looked shocked, finishing her chewing. "If you ever need to practice, you can just chill here," she said. "We've got a music store nearby that has tutorials and stuff, and I don't really mind if you practice in the guest room. I… don't really have many people over, and my parents are usually gone anyways."

"Y-you'd seriously let me practice here?" Shuhei asked, nearly choking on his food. "Even if it sucked?"

Tatsuki shrugged, raising her bowl and drinking the broth at the bottom in one go. With a sigh of satisfaction, she wiped her mouth and smiled. "I don't see why the hell not," she said. "I'm not here all the time anyways, and even if I was, I feel someone should support you in your hobbies. It sucks when your friends and coworkers don't, and I feel if anyone should, it should be me." Setting her bowl down, she stood, leaning over the table, hand extended. "Does that sound like a good deal to you?"

It took Shuhei a few seconds to contemplate what was happening. Here was a human, basically asking him to be her friend, to support him in his own hobbies. This day just kept getting more and more interesting. "I-I-I guess so," he managed, slowly raising his hand. He grasped her hand, feeling her shake their clasped hands up and down three times.

"Then it's settled," she said confidently, placing her empty dishes in the kitchen. "You can come back here and practice as many times as you want. Ya know, after we defeat Aizen and all that." The clink of her dishes on the counter filled the small pause, her back turned to him.

There it was again, that small terror in the back of her mind. The possibility that, after all this, they may not win.

"We will win," Tatsuki said aloud, mostly for herself. "And when we do, I'm going to sleep for at least three days straight."

Shuhei laughed a little, resting his head in his hands. He knew he'd need at least a full week's worth of recovery, especially with how little sleep he'd gotten. "Same here," he said between laughs. "And it'll hopefully be a dreamless sleep." They both laughed until they struggled to breathe, the air silent once more.

"What will you do if you have to fight Tosen?" Tatsuki asked, her eyes serious once more. The question ate away at her mind, unable to stay silent. "Do you think you could fight him?" she continued, looking over at the tired Shinigami. Shuhei lifted his head from his hands, the shadows over his eyes harsh.

"Probably," he replied at last. "I gotta protect my friends, after all."

A knock on the door interrupted them, causing the two of them to tense up. "Hisagi?!" called the muffled, familiar voice of Ikkaku. "Let's go! We've got another long night ahead of us! Yer late!"

Shuhei shook his head, standing now. "Gotta go," he called over his shoulder to Tatsuki, quickly grabbing Kazeshini off the floor, sliding the sword into his belt. His hand rested on the hilt, contemplating for a moment.

"Thank you, Arisawa," Shuhei said, standing at the front door. His head was turned away from her.

Tatsuki tilted her head, asking, "For what?" She seemed confused.

His hand on the door handle, Shuhei simply replied, "For everything. For showing me that I was wrong about humans." His head turned, the 69 tattoo on his face revealed. "For showing me that, even in death, we are still very much the same."

With that, he opened the door, stepping out into the night air.

This account will occasionally post updates on the series. Currently, we are on book two, Bleach: Re(Vers)ed, which looks at both the Fullbringer arc and a dash of Hell Verse (and we are nearing the halfway mark!).

Links:

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15681246/chapters/36433008

FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13014282/1/Bleach-Revisited

[venus-says]

Round of Randoms #1 - Shorties

The one with the skeleton, the cat boys, and the card game.

Look who's back!

After a much-needed break to cool off from the Aikatsu marathon, here I again to delight the world with my unnecessary opinions. XD

You may be asking yourself, what is this? Well, I was thinking of what to do to come back to the blog, but still on my break mindset and I didn't want to get back to my regular stuff. So I thought about it and decided to get back to my roots and one of the reasons why I created this blog in the first place and went down on my anime list and see what was there that I could watch and bring to here. I've made a huge list of things, divided them into categories, and I'm planning to watch them in between the regular shows I comment here. I was lazy and pretty much only picked stuff that came out this year, but is still a somewhat diverse range of the usual things I talk about here.

Since I wanted something quick and easy to do at first I went with my "shorties" category that is composed of shows with a run time of 15 minutes or less per episode, and "one-shot" OVAs, in other words, things that I could watch on a single day with not much trouble. These are "reviews" of the entire season so they won't be as detailed, but that was never the point of these to begin with, If there's a show on my list that I have a lot to talk about I'll probably do it on a separate post.

Anyway, let's begin.

MYSTERIA Friends

Starting off is MYSTERIA Friends (or Manaria Friends in the original). This wasn't a show that was on my list actually, but once I saw that it was only 10 episodes of 15 minutes each and that both Yoko and Nana were voicing characters on this show I was "okay, I need to watch this now". I had no previous knowledge of anything related to this show and I was kinda excited to see what it was about, I don't know what I was expecting from it, but in reality, I got really disappointed.

Like, the show technically is gorgeous, I think that because of the shorter airing time they could pay more attention to the drawing and animation and you get stunned by the visuals. The soundtrack is also pretty decent, there's nothing exceptional aside of maybe the insert song Nana's character sings in one the episodes, but the general background music is pretty effective on putting yourself on that world.

With that being said, this is probably where the positives end. The show has no plot, which in itself it's not a problem, most of this short shows are episodic anyway and that's one of the charms of this type of anime, but in this case it's a problem because it just seems empty, the show seems to be trying to talk about inter-species relationships, but it actually never touches on that what gives this "empty media" vibe. This ties in with another problem that is the fact that this fantastic, magical setting has no purpose of being there other than aesthetics, I feel that the excuse of going "magic medieval" was we gonna show how this human and this half-demon can get along and bring peace and harmony to this world, but they never touch on the topic and it becomes pretty obvious that they only went with that route because the author has a thing for girl dragons.

Which ties in with my biggest problem, the useless ecchi. Honestly, the amount of ecchi they got to put in such a short amount of time is unbelievable, like, right on the second episode Grea is pain because she's molting, but the scene is shot as like she's having sex and the moans are more like pleasure moans rather than moans of someone who's in pain, and is just so uncomfortable, and to add more into this weirdness Anne steals the shed skin of Grea's tail and in the final episode she's smelling that like those pervs smelling on panties and IT'S SO AWKWARD. This threw me off so much, I think I only got through because the show was very short and I know the suffering would be very low, otherwise I would definitely have dropped it right on episode 2.

Skull-face Bookseller Honda-san

Honda-san was that show that I had always seen people commenting on and was very interested in watching since the beginning, but I never did because I'm lazy, so when I decided to do this I knew I had to put the show on the list and finally watch it, and that's a decision I definitely don't regret making.

Honestly, this show is so good. It's not that comedy that will let you laughing your pants off, but it doesn't mean that it ain't funny. It's mentioned in the show that the manga that originated from this anime was written by Honda-san himself about his experiences working on a bookstore, I don't know how truthful the stories are, but is this sense of "damn this really happens irl" that makes everything way much funnier and it is a true joy to watch. The anime isn't ambitious, I don't think it's trying to convey a message or make a commentary or anything, but this doesn't come as a detriment for the show, this anime didn't need any of that and they don't try to make it be about something big. It's just a wholesome show about life that is really comforting, especially if you're an adult that already had some experience with retailing.

What else do I have to say? I love the style, I love the soundtrack, I love the weird situation that happens, and the characters are just amazing, aside of Honda-san I love manager Armor she's lots of fun, and Chief Pestmask (who's VA is, look at that, Hikasa Yoko once again) who doesn't appear a lot, but when she comes she sure leaves an impression on you. This show did crush my fantasies of working on a bookstore someday, but I loved every second of it anyway. XD

Hey, Your Cat Ears Are Showing! Season 2

So when I heard Hora Mimi was getting a second season, I was both excited and apprehensive. This one of the rare short shows that have an episodic narrative but that has an overall plot to the whole thing, and I was quite satisfied with the ending of season 1, it was sweet and heartwarming as the rest of the series was and I really didn't think a second season was needed, thus I really didn't watch it while it was airing. But this was the perfect opportunity for me to finally watch it.

And this season was a very good surprise, it expanded on what the first season had built and it became three times gayer by giving Dong Dong and Jin Zhu partners, Jin Zhu partner being an Ear People but from another species, which made this season even more fun and cute. The final arc of this season where they established that Da Shu and Miao had met each other before the events of season 1 is probably the only thing I don't like about this sequel because on my eyes it looks silly, but I wouldn't call it a negative that renders the show. Hora Mimi remains a very adorable, heartwarming show that everyone definitely should check it out.

The Girl From the Other Side

Totsukuni no Shoujo was never on my radar for mangas so I wasn't aware of its existence. A few months back I saw someone reblogging gifs from this OVA on my dash and I got really intrigued by it, the aesthetic was kinda similar to Ancient Magus Bridge but it was darker and it had this antique style to it that made me fall in love instantly.

Since I don't know the manga, I'm not familiar with the characters and their stories, but even though I was in the dark I could grasp the concept without major difficulties because the characters are very expressive, and the music is very well used on passing to was what is going on with those characters. I thought an anime with no dialogue would be boring, but this OVA was very captivating, not just by its visuals but also by the narrative and the music that got me hooked from beginning to end. I feel like this is a very shallow review of the thing, but I don't think I'm smart enough to elaborate more on what to say about this show.

I'm not familiar with the manga and I don't know how things work there, neither I know if such style could hold up for an entire season, but I definitely wanna see more, and I'll definitely look up the manga if I can make my tablet work again someday.

Zenonzard THE ANIMATION - Episode 0

And to wrap up we have Zenonzard, which was another show that I wasn't aware of until I decided to do this thing and it's only here because the poster looked cool, and it was officially available on youtube with subs and no region locks so I thought, "why not?"

This is probably the weirdest of the bunch since it's a show based on a card game, and I haven't watched one of these in ages, and it's weird, but I was kinda into it? Like, I don't like that most of the girls in this show have ginormous breasts and this thing of a female coming to an apparently normal boy saying "I choose you" seems that it's going to backfire and will create a huge mess in the future, but as the episode was progressing I was getting more and more into it?

The plot doesn't seem as good, if they even have a plot. It does a crap job at explaining what this game is and how it works, and also the CG used for the monsters is horrendous. But it got me interested, it had some great music playing and I think this is what caught me the most, even though there's one song, that I believe is sung by Nanase who did voices for Aikatsu, that I feel like it was very misplaced. I also like the futuristic aesthetic, I'm a sucker for these things and I was pleased for the most part of it.

I don't know if this will become a thing, but if they actually release an anime and if they publish it on youtube like what they've done with this ONA/Special/Prequel? I may keep watching it. Which comes to as a surprise to me.

And this was the first Round of Randoms (provisory name) of this blog. I quite enjoyed doing this thing, I think I'm gonna keep doing it to always have something different and new around here. What did you think of it? Have you watched any of these shows? What are your opinions about it? Is there any show you have to recommend? And what's a good name for this new thing I'm trying to do? Thank you so much for sticking with me until the end, and I'll see you guys at another time.

[hamliet]

Three Queens: Dany, Sansa, & Cersei

The moment three of your top four characters are pitted against each other in a fandom war or a canon war. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sansa’s been my favorite since season 1, and then we have Jon, Dany, and Cersei. Dany’s arc is pretty much exactly hitting the same beats as Jon’s arc, but in a yin/yang type way so that they are likely intended to meet in the middle. But I’ve talked about Jonerys before and now I want to discuss Sansa and Dany’s foiling, as well as Cersei’s and Dany’s, and what it may mean for Dany’s endgame in particular (Sansa will be fine, Cersei will die, that seems pretty narratively certain to me).

Sansa and Dany are both raised with stories and dreams: Sansa for love and being a queen, Dany for being a queen in another sense. She and Viserys were on the run her entire childhood from assassins, facing the scorn from people who would have loved them a few years ago (which is exactly where Sansa’s arc will take her after her father is executed). The same person is involved in both of these: Jaime Lannister, as the show showed us in the confrontation in episode 2.

Sansa always wanted marriage to a handsome man; however, when she’s granted a betrothal and then a marriage, it turns into hell--but through that hell, she learns to be a good ruler. Everyone comments on how well respected Lady Sansa is--wise and brave. She’s foiled with Tyrion in this aspect, in that she’s called the “smartest person I ever met” by Arya, and she tells her former husband in name, Tyrion, in the same episode, “you used to be the cleverest person I ever met.” Tyrion used to be a good hand of the king; now, he’s making pretty poor judgment advising Dany because he’s facing the same issue as Dany: power or love, but more on that another time.

But Sansa has made her choices. She chose her dream (not power, but a romantic fantasy) in the first season and went to Cersei after Ned told her they would be leaving, thereby leading to her father getting caught. Now she’s chosen her family and has come into her own. She has grown up, in other words, and she didn’t grow up when she married Ramsay Bolton or escaped, but when she decided to write that letter to the Knights of the Vale, when she stood up for herself, when she decided to do what she could for the good of her family (Jon & co) instead of just what she wanted (to kick Littlefinger to the curb).

Sansa is an adult right now, having crossed that hurdle of coming of age in the story. Dany (and Jon and Arya) are still trying to find out what growing up means for them, despite Dany (and Jon) being technically older than Sansa.  

For Dany, as she says, Viserys always told her about a throne, and she’s been fixated on that through all she’s been through each and every season. Therefore it’s worth asking whether this was what Dany wanted, or whether it’s a coping mechanism to cope with exactly what she tells Jon she’s been through in season 7: 

I have been sold like a broodmare. I’ve been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile? Faith. Not in any gods, not in myths and legends, in myself. In Daenerys Targaryen.

It’s easier to survive these horrors if you keep a dream waiting for you, irl and in the show. Dany hoping for a future in which she has everything that was stripped from her before her birth is completely understandable and normal. But, it’s not much different than Sansa’s romantic fantasies: it’s a child’s dream.

The story is asking Dany if she wants to grow up, if what she wants is the love that made her happy, or the power fantasies her brother imbued her with when he couldn’t even handle it himself. I’ve talked about the dead literally rising and coming for them all and it’s symbolism before, and it’s asking Dany if she wants to be controlled by the dreams and wheels of the dead, or if she wants to make her own life. Because Dany’s caught between the desire to rule--control--and the desire to set people free (freeing slaves). Does she want to continue the Targaryen dynasty, or does she want to break the wheel, because she can’t do both. Is she making her own fate, or does her blood control her fate? She doesn’t want to be a cruel man like her father, as she tells Yara in season 6, but if she rules, then she has to take responsibility for the good and the bad in the Targaryen dynasty. Which she tried to do in regards to Rhaegar last episode, but... well.

The show is setting up a choice for Dany, as Sam outlined in the first episode to Jon: the throne, or Jon (love). Her dream has just been rocked; her faith in herself, her belief that there was a greater destiny guiding her because of her bloodline. Because it wasn’t even true. She is not the rightful heir to the throne; Jon is. But Jon doesn’t even want the throne, though he would probably support her if she is pregnant and won the throne, so the issue with the reveal, for Dany, is not that Jon is now a rival: it’s that everything she fought for and believed in is not true.

Not only that, but she’s seen that the North desperately wants its freedom after being horribly treated by the Lannisters, the Starks abused and murdered cruelly. Dany, who has always supported freedom for people, is going to have to ask herself what that means for a kingdom.

And it’s telling Dany was there for Sansa and Theon’s reunion. Like with Dany and Jorah, Sansa forgave Theon a terrible crime. Dany listens to Jorah now as her unofficial advisor, but I’ll be shocked if Jorah survives the battle next episode (’I’ll see you later’ is basically fiction’s most obvious death flag) and find it likely she’s going to lose that too. After Jorah, the only one she really has is Jon (she and Tyrion don’t seem close on a personal level), and her dragons (for now...) 

Like with Sansa, Dany’s entire life has been losing people she loves. Is the throne really worth it, if it means giving up the one person who matters most to her, who chose her not because of her crown but knelt to her crown because he loves her? With her faith in herself likely rocked and with the death flags for Jorah, she can either sink into grasping the throne at the cost of Jon, or she can grasp Jon and they can try to figure out how to swim together--without a throne weighing them down.

The reason I don’t see the Mad Queen option as likely is for a few reasons, but let’s discuss one: we already have a mad queen. Two would be... a bit much.

Cersei in the books and in the show perpetually fears being usurped by a younger, more beautiful queen. She at first thinks it’s Sansa, and then Margery, and now I’d say it’s clearly Daenerys. As such, Cersei has always been positioned as a foil not just for Sansa, but for Dany. She’s what Dany could become, if she chooses the throne and power over her loved ones. Because Cersei has always done precisely that. She couldn’t conceive of a life without power, and when Ned literally gave her the chance to escape with her life and her children, she refused, because she wanted power too.

Cersei’s desire for power really comes down to a matter of control; we even see it in how she loves her children. As Tyrion said, that’s her one redeeming quality, and yet, she desperately tries to maintain her power over her children.

Its root is, like Sansa and like Dany, Cersei had no choices growing up. As she tells Sansa during the Battle of Blackwater, she was raised to be sold to the highest bidder for her father’s power, whereas Jaime was given a sword.

When we were young, Jaime and I, we looked so much alike even our father couldn’t tell us apart. l could never understand why they treated us differently. Jaime was taught to fight with sword and lance and mace, and l was taught to smile and sing and please. He was heir to Casterly Rock, and l was sold to some stranger like a horse to be ridden whenever he desired

Because she has no control, now she compensates by being smothering. The conflict with Margery never had to happen but for the fact that Cersei hated that she would not be in control of her son’s choices anymore, and she’d given up on Tommen before he killed himself after she killed the woman he loved.

Cersei lost three children. Dany has three “children” in her dragons; honestly I’d be surprised if she doesn’t lose all of them by the end/if they aren’t the cost for love. Because Dany lost one of her children--Viserion--already not out of trying to keep dragons small and chained up (though she made that mistake at the same time Cersei did, but for far less petty reasons) --but by using them to do what dragons do: fly, and save the man she loves. As Tyrion warned her, going to save Jon north of the wall was a foolish decision especially if she wants the throne; Dany went anyways because when push comes to shove, she chooses love over power. There’s a pattern of just this in Dany’s arc whereas there is not in Cersei’s; I have no reason to think it would change.

For Dany and Jon... Jon clung to his principles and lost Ygritte last time, and Dany recently echoed Ygritte’s line about just staying out there forever, away from everyone. If they want to break the cycles that the wheel of power establishes in Westeros, and the cycles in their own lives, they need to choose to ditch that throne. That’s the ending I’m seeing built up for her now, especially given the foreshadowing about a human child between her and Jon last season, but we shall see.

[inviouswriting]

i think would have asked you to pick all for the writer ask ^^lll but pick the ones you want to answer the most? XD

I think I will do all of them. I was thinking about it myself and feel like it. Thank you for sending this in.

ink: what do you do to “set the mood” when writing?

I start thinking about the setting I want to write before a title or a character pops into mind. It’s why I love one word prompts because they spark off instantly.

pen and paper: do you prefer writing by hand or on a device? why?

Computer. Spell check and punctuation checker. I recently purchased word for my new laptop and it has been so helpful. I rarely write by hand. (I have bad handwriting.)

diary: how many pieces have you written that are just for you or will never see the light of day? 

There are a few stories I have written that are personal and keep to myself. Mostly original stories because not a lot of people read my original works. Maybe some day I’ll post them.

journal: do you ever write just so you can enjoy something to read?

All. The. Time. You think I write for just the fandom? I write for myself because I have stories that no one has read. Others have stories I haven’t read before. I love writing as everything comes out different than it was in my head. Like Fire I just posted. I intended that to be longer, but settled for what I wrote here. Simple. I love re-reading my own stuff because it helps me figure out what and where to take the next drabble or story I write.

novella: do you prefer to write short stories, one-shots, or entire novels?

Short stories and one-shots are easier to manage. I wrote for the fandom of Undertale. I had a really popular story I was writing. I had everything planned out, everything going for it. I had daily reviews and the sort. Then it got too much. It felt like a chore than something I wanted to do. I like shorts, they’re fun to write, and I can complete them within a day or a few minutes of sitting down and starting to write. I have a whole novel in my head I want to write. But I just don’t know how the world will perceive it.

pulitzer: tell about/link a piece where you felt your writing was the best.

This would have to be “Heaven” it is a story I wrote for the Bleach fandom. It was my first major focused graphic smut story... (If anyone has figured I am one of those writers. I can write it without problems) It broke me out of the same ol same ol “Hey I just write pwps.” No I write amazing romantic stories now. 

genre: what genre do you prefer to write in?

smuts... romance. I am pretty good at them. I can also write horror really well if I ever entertain the dark side enough. My reaper~

narrator: what pov do you like writing in best?

Second and third pov. I can’t stand first person. I feel like I am writing a diary. It feels weird.

backstory: how did you come to love writing?

I am a reader. I love books and spent most of my youth in libraries. I have learned to love the fictional works. Fantasy is my favorite genre to read. (I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.) I started writing I think... around 12. Nothing explicit till maybe... 16-18. 

time-lapse: how long have you been writing (as a hobby or for work)? 

Since I can remember doing rp stuff. I think 11-12. It’s been like 20 years... (For those curious I am 31.)

characterization: describe your favorite character(s) you’ve written.

I’ll go by fandom where I’ve improved most

FF14. Aymeric is my favorite. I love writing things for him. Close second and growing is Estinien.

Kamigami no asobi - Hades. I love this guy. I learned I can write softly and beautifully.

Bleach - Ulquiorra. There is something about this particular character. I learned and grew as a writer because of Bleach. Ulquiorra is one of my favorite villains to write. 

Original work - My reaper Kiya. Kiya Shinikami (My black mage) stems into original works I do work on every so often. She is far from my own personality. I broke the mary sue stereotype with her. Whenever I am unsure of how I want to write for a fandom I do toss her in and see if I can make my writing work. How Trust came around. (I do have a story that would feature her in her full tilt self. Just how to write it.)

carnegie: what authors and/or books/stories have inspired you to write or influenced your work?

When I could start taking note of writing. Susan Fletcher. I enjoyed her Dragon’s milk series. (It’s an older children’s novel. but worth reading.) I enjoy authors like Neil Gaiman, Stephen King, and other fictional independent writers I see on sites and here. No one influences my writing because just like drawing. People need to focus on their own natural style of writing. Even if it is messy and uncoordinated.

faulkner: what tropes do you LOVE writing? which ones are your guilty pleasure?

Femme fatals. I have a soft spot for lovers at first sight...

o’connor: what tropes/genres do you dislike writing?

The “Came from a broken life and is obviously god’s gift to the object of desire” There is having a broken life. Then there is building the work and pulling through it. Going to Kiya here. In her story. She is someone who grew up in Elizabeth Bathory’s home. She was killed for her blood. In the after life. She rose to great heights then fell from her position only to ascend to something. She achieved her greatness through countless struggles and didn’t let her murder constrict how she goes through her life now. She was even Bathory’s reaper when it came time to collect.

dickinson: what insecurities do you have about your own writing? what do you think you should improve on?

Whether or not people truly enjoy my work. I have comprehension problems here and there. Punctuation has never been my best, even through school. I just can’t grasp it like others can. And I fear that is a put off for others.

playlist: what kind of music/songs help you write? do you have a writing playlist?

I tend to listen to trance or “mood” songs. Things that set a mood for the area I write in. If it is something longer than drabbles. Trance or instrumental music is best. (Specially for essay writing.)

record: have you written things based off of songs? do you like to?

I’ve written a few things. I do like writing songs with a music theme to them. 

nobel: have you published anything you’ve written? online or irl?

Yes! I am! I am published in an anthology for the pairing Ulquihime. https://www.deviantart.com/157yrs/art/Cross-Your-Heart-398611831 All the proceeds for this anthology are suppose to go to the children’s heart foundation. None of the writers or artists for this anthology make a dime off it. My story is called Ice.

notepad: can you write anywhere or do you have to be in a specific place and mood to write?

Drabbles are spot writing and they’re always on tumblr. I like the blue background as easier to look at than the white of my word.

parchment: how often do you or your personal life influence your writing?

Rarely. I keep my personal life from seeping into my writing. I want to separate myself as much as possible.

dedication: if you were to publish a book or multiple, who would you dedicate the book(s) to?

trope: what’s a pet peeve you have about writing? 

How easy it is. People who draw know how hard it is to perfect their skills. Same with writing. It isn’t “magic in words.” It’s time and dedication to improvement just the same. You don’t just wake up and go “I’m going to write the best thing ever.” without references, a thesaurus and dictionary. 

input: what’s something you hate that people say to you about writing/your writing?

“ It’s like someone else’s.” I kinda find it impersonal that way as I have strived to stand apart from others. I want to be remembered for me. Not remembered as a copy cat of someone else.

critic: what’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received about writing?

Be patient. It seems like it is hard to do, and yes it is. But spending time to write, and focus on it, keeping a steady patient flow of how you write is crucial so you never get burned out.  Also keep prompt blogs and lists saved always. They do help.

mifflin: what do you feel is your strong suit in writing? 

Romance. I’ve been told I have a way with words. I just like to write an emotion I try to convey.

houghton: what’s something you love that people compliment your pieces on?

Enjoying my work. compliments and comments tell me I am doing good. Silence kills writers and artists. 

This was a bit long but I loved taking a moment to write all this as a way to get to know the person behind the blog. I’m pretty easy going and straightforward. 

[theincompetentgenius]

Hello 😄 Life generator is totally awesome idea! I already love it and would like to request one for Arcana world. I hope it won’t be too much of a problem, and thank you in advance ❤️

I’m a big science nerd, especially good in math, hungry for knowledge, with unsatiable curiosity. But at the same time, i radiate dumbass energy. Most of the time i’m silent, because i don’t really know what to say, since my mind is tv static. I enjoy creating, my hobbies are singing, drawing, painting, scupting, embroidery and other forms of crafting. But i really don’t have any creativeness on my own. And i lack in artistic skills, but i substitute it with persistence. I’m really patient and can go over one place hundreds times until i’m satisfied, and i’m never giving up on any wips, they just wait for their turn (..same about people, even if have no contact with them anymore i still consider them as friends, i don’t cut ties). Even if they pile up and there’s probably no way to finish it up in one lifetime. Damn, i wish i was immortal. There’s so many knowledge and skills to learn, and art to consume and create in the world. But i don’t really have any passion or hiperfixation, i’m just all over the place, a jade of all trades and master of none. Most of the time is spend resting, on internet, because i run out of energy far too quick, especially physical and social. The problems of being contained in a body that wants to rest at all costs xd Physically i’m really weak, even though i work out regularly, my super low endurance doesn’t improve. I’m so quickly drained and need to recharge that for long so it looks like i’m lazy. Basically i’m never bored, but i can get frustraded when i’m wasting time.

I’m pretty open and honest person and have no brakes, i overshare whenever i have occasion (as you can see xD). I’m not hiding my emotions, except showing that someone hurt me (because i’m too proud to do that if that was meancingly, or i don’t want them to feel bad if it wasn’t). I’m friendly, very empathetic, eager to help if approached. I can easily put myself into other people’s shoes and always try to understand where others come from, their reasoning. And i care about others’ well being. But i’m quite a hermit, i barely have any social needs, and never approach people first. I’m fine on my own. Since i can remember, i only lived inside my own world in my head. Being around people is nice too though, but i’m pretty socially clueless. I don’t really experience loneliness, unless i miss certain people. And that happens super rarely too, i don’t get that attached to even closest people. But it happens, i can get really attached.

I can get anxious and uncertain around people, because i don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, cross boundaries or face any sort of negative consequences. But i don’t care what people think of me n my actions, especially if i don’t know them. Social norms are only chains. There’s no reason to follow them. I prefer my order of doing things. Order is really important to me, i need it for my things, my actions, my plans. My free time is dictated by algorithms i make, that get more and more complicated with each update. Most of the time i’m in neutral state, pretty apathetic. Emotions can be easily triggered, but die as fast and i go back to the state of nirvana. I rarely get stressed and don’t care too much about issues, life always works out in one way or another. That’s why i’m chill, patient and calm.

I love cute and pretty things, sweets, plushies, hugs, cats. When it comes to nature, sure i like it and it is interesting, but i don’t really like being close to it because of bugs. They’re yucky >.> I’m hesistant about a lot of stuff and super cautious about things that could cause physical harm, which i guess makes me a coward. And i don’t enjoy travelling. I mean it is okay, but doesn’t spark any emotion, besides maybe knowledge seeking. Instead, i’m big fan of magic and powers. Not that boring stuff like astrology, but rather like you k'now, superheroes or wizards things. Wish that kind of stuff existed irl, and wish i had it all, just like with irl skills xd Also i’m really, really picky eater.

Thank you for your interest in the world of The Arcana. You will be reborn into your new life shortly. The simulation will begin in 3…….. 2……. 1……..

B A C K G R O U N D

Your mother had left you in front of the doorsteps of a poor orphanage when you were only months old. She felt that she was unfit to take care of you because she was not financially stable, but she could only hope for the best for you. Fortunately, you were left at the hands of caring and understanding individuals who supported you through your childhood. However, your scattered interests in the arts, sciences, and magic had left many people confused. They couldn’t wrap their heads around the concept that a young girl could explore such complex concepts, but that never mattered to you. Your interests were in your newfound magic. While you wouldn’t practice magic in public, you would use it when necessary or convenient. Yet these few moments caused panic within your town. You were becoming too smart, too powerful, and too curious. The townsmen felt threatened by your mere presence, so they banished you from the city under the pretense that you were a “threat to their well-being.” Yet you never saw the bursting potential buried within you.

F R I E N D S  

Julian

Now that you had been kicked out of your hometown, you had absolutely no idea where to go. There weren’t too many cities near your own and you weren’t sure if you had enough supplies to last you through your entire trip. Although you were sure that you could find a small village nearby, you still felt the need to check over your supplies to prevent excessive spending. The fact that you had to travel through the heat didn’t make things any better.

You aimlessly wandered through the leafy forests, hoping that the direction of winds, clouds, and the sun would give you some indication as to where you were. Unfortunately, you had crossed the same dead lizard five times. You were moving in circles. A sigh escaped your lips as you trudged through the forest. Your mind had gone blank and you couldn’t think of a plan to get yourself out of this mess. Your calm demeanor was wearing thin as all your plans had begun to fall apart.  The thought of blasting yourself into the sky with air magic had crossed your mind, but you knew that you were incapable of landing safely.

In the midst of your thoughts, you bumped into a tall, brooding figure. You instinctively elongated the vines from the plants, preparing to attack whatever was in front of you.

“Don’t hurt me with those vine things! I’m just a traveler!” A man with cooper hair and an eyepatch yelled.

You did a quick lookover and dropped the vines from your grasp. The man let out a sigh of relief and scrambled to his feet. He looked back at you and collected his things. Although you did not want to speak to him, he probably knew the jungle better than you and was your possible ticket to getting out of this mess. You mustered the courage in your chest to call out to him.

“Wait! I’m sorry that I shot those vines at you. I thought you were a monster, but that’s beside the point. Do you know where we are?”

He looked around with a suspicious glance. “I have a general idea. Can’t you use your magic to get yourself out of here?”

“If only I could, then I wouldn’t be wandering around with a loaf of bread and a flask of water.”

The stranger let out a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. How did you get stuck in this place?”

And so you told him your story and your woes as an exile. You looked away, expecting him to make a rude remark but he chuckled and shook his head.

“Maybe we’re not so different, Magician. I happen to be an informally-exiled doctor for murdering a Count.”

You raised your eyebrow. For a murderer, he was rather friendly. Before you could ask any more questions, he told you his story (or whatever he remembered from it). There seemed to be many holes, but you were fairly entertained by them.

“Is Vesuvia close by?” You asked.

“Yeah, just a little down south. I’m going there to get some answers about myself. Are you going to join me?”

Other friends: Nadia, Muriel

R O M A N C E

Asra

Once you arrived at Vesuvia with Julian, the two of you went separate ways.  Not that any altercation had taken place, but Julian was more focused on uncovering his past while you needed a place to stay. So you went about, searching for possible adobes for shelter. They were either too expensive or in terrible quality. But you didn’t give up, there had to be something you could find.

As you passed through the unfamiliar streets, you looked for possible places to sleep for the night. The pillar looked too stiff, the grass was too moist, and sleeping next to a building would hurt your back. Things were looking rough for you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder. You spun around to see a handsome young man with fluffy, white hair and a soft smile. “You look a little lost and I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Are you new here?”

You let out a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I’m just looking for a place to stay. Do you know any place that’s inexpensive but sanitary?”

The man placed his hand on his chin, presumably to think of an answer to your question. After a moment, he responded. “You can stay at my place for the night. It’s not big, but it has a cozy feel to it.”

You shook your head. “You’re too kind, but I can’t infringe on your privacy like that. After all, you must have better things to do than help a random vagabond.”

“Well I used to be a vagabond myself, so I know the pain of wandering around with no place to go.” A snake slithered from his sleeve and cocked its head. “See? Even Faust thinks you should stay over.”

“You’re too kind!” You were about to accept his offer, but a new thought crossed your mind. What if he was trying to lure you to his home for dangerous reasons? There was no way to verify that he wasn’t a kidnapper or someone with ill intentions.

The stranger noticed your sudden discomfort. “If you’re worried about ill intentions, that was probably the furthest thing from my mind. How about you I show you around Vesuvia instead? If you feel more relaxed, you can stay at my place. But I’m not pressuring you if you don’t want to.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“By the way, my name is Asra. Shall we get started on this tour?” The two of you wander through the colorful stalls of the city, examining the golden trinkets and wooden toys. There were racks of fruit neatly organized based on size and color with shelves of pastries next to them. Asra bought you a few desserts despite your protests. Although most products were overpriced, there was a rustic charm to them all.

By the end of the tour, you felt more comfortable around him. The two of you had spent the time exploring and talking about anything and everything. You even told him about your exile from your hometown. As he heard the story, he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“You know, I’m a magician too. If you ever need help with anything, just let me know.” He gave another one of his angelic smiles.

“Thanks. I think I’m mentally okay, but I do need to strengthen my magic.”

“I have an idea to fix that. Would you like to become my apprentice?”

F I N A L    F A T E

Originally posted by autumncozy

You had taken Asra on his offer to become his apprentice and ended up staying at the shop for convenience purposes. It didn’t matter because most of your time was spent with Asra to improve your magic. Although you claimed to not have an affinity towards any type of magic, Asra would say that you were the best at everything you attempted. With each practice session, you grew better and more skilled in your magic. It was only a matter of time before the apprentice had become the master. Asra was amazed at your progress, but you weren’t so confident in your own abilities. There was always room for improvement in your eyes.

Word had spread that another talented magician had entered the Vesuvia, but that never bothered you. If they could accept Asra, there was no reason for them to mistreat you. Not everyone was as biased and prejudiced as the people of your hometown, yet you were cautious when performing your magic in public. When you did, you were surprised when receiving compliments and paid jobs from the public. And to make things better, Asra was always there to help.

Soon, the two of you felt that the shop’s business wasn’t doing too great and decided to close it down. After all, it gave you more living space so it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. Instead, you came up with the idea to teach other aspiring magicians so they would not be stranded like you were. At first, Asra was unsure since he wanted to live alone together in a cottage further north from the city. But when you made the compromise to teach magic only during the summer in a remote location, he couldn’t refuse. He’d still have you all to himself during the spring, fall, and winter. Well, as long as Faust didn’t steal you away from him.

As time went by, you went on to train some of the most powerful magicians in the following generation. Some had gone to save other countries from treacherous monstrous while others had become the monsters themselves. There was regret harbored in your heart for you could not have the one who turned towards the dark path, but some people could not be saved. Nevertheless, you will be remembered as one of the pioneers of magic; it’s influence spread across the globe

T H E   E N D