#this is so niche please don’t flop

[qprpbj]

little bit of cream, lotta bit of sugar :)

[starkingdraws]

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 10

Chapter 10: adamant Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: depictions of a panic attack. PLEASE AVOID if that would end up harming you i beg !!! dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. I am being serious when I say that arthur is bad at handling this situation. he does not think he has done anything wrong. if youve been reading so far you know that that is BAD. please do not read if you can't handle it, im putting a giant RED FLAG on this WC: 4753 SNOW ANGEL DROP TN??? everybody say thank you to @emerald-ranch CHAPTER 10 !!! we did it !! it took me a while to churn this out and get it to a place that i liked. im still not even sure i like it LMAO thank you for all of the lovely little niche questions i get about my strange snow angel arthur, he is everything to me and i love to speak him into existence. first time writing angst soooo Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol You and Arthur clear the air.

“Caught me a little bunny, pretty one too,” you can feel his excitement behind the fabric of his pants, his belt digging into you uncomfortably. Arthur’s features, although covered in shadows from the dusk drawing in, still reflect his anticipation. He takes his hat off, his hand drags his hair back, damp with sweat, darker than the usual lighter brown. Some of it still flops over into his face anyway. 

Your hands push at his shoulders weakly, whining as he dips down to kiss you, the warmth of his breath fanning over the roundness of your cheek, you can feel the scrape of his stubbly hair on your face, the dimple at the tip of his nose brush over you. 

“Arthur, please, I just- I wanna go home, you won, you got me,” he hums, running his tongue over your neck, his arms prop his body up over yours, keeping you warm in the cold chill. He covers you well enough, shields you from the winter with his frame, wide and heavyset. You can feel the rumble in him when he says ‘you’re damn right, I did,’.

The sky is a pretty shade of purple, a little like lavender. You look up, feeling his body tilt to one side, held up on his elbow, his other takes the opportunity to roam over your body. “We can go to our home, Arthur,” you try to pull at his desires, but he won’t have any of it. 

“Wanna see my prize first,” he says between puffs of air, his tongue pacing over the delicate skin of your neck. His hands tug your skirt upwards while you try and keep your legs closed. His hands grip the fat of your thigh, dipping under the dainty fabric of your stocking. Between his legs is the rather stiff press of him and his arousal. You don’t like how easy it is for your body to respond to just the notion of him taking you like this, like an animal.

His rough fingertips skim over the mark he left on you, the one your mother saw. 

“All you had to do was say you liked it. I know you did. You like everything I do,”

“I-No, I…I couldn’t-” You couldn't make it stop. Couldn't make your body stop reacting to him is what you want to say. But to say so would admit that some part of you liked what he did. You snap your mouth shut like a coin purse. You can’t bring yourself to say such a thing. Not that his ideas deserve to be validated. He gives you a knowing look which sends a tremor down your spine, your legs shifting nervously. 

“Quit your lying’, girl, you ain’t fooled me yet. Shouldn’t be ashamed, sugar; I might be a bastard but I ain’t the worst thing coulda happened to ya,”

“I’m not trying to…I told her not to say anything,” you whine and push again at his shoulders but he doesn’t budge. 

“Mhm, how come I don’t believe that for a second,”

Either way, he drops his mouth to your neck, sucks another painful mark just under your ear, the sensitive skin tingles with sensation, pulling pain from your nerves. You tilt your face away, you can’t get him to stop. You can hear the wetness of his tongue moistening your skin before he's sucking a deep red mark, which will be another bruise on your skin. You pull at his hair, but you’re held down just as easily while he nips away.

Your back arches, your skin tingles. A lewd whimper is all you have to offer, keening for him. The quiver inside you isn’t mindful at all. Pure reaction, pleasure rising to the surface. 

 He gives you more than one this time, leaving them at his leisure. He's ripping your blouse open next, so he can leave more on your breasts. The soft flesh is alight with nerves, rippling desire through you. 

“Think you’re starting to like it, angel,” you still your body, disconnected from its actions, which until then was moaning, clutching his shoulder for dear life. The tide of your emotions rises higher though, ice cold water crashing down on the pleasant warmth gathering on your lower belly.

Like you’ve stepped in front of a wagon train, the panic sets in, more than any other time before now. A shameful part of you; an awful desire that burns for Arthur somewhere inside of you, wants him to keep going. To make good on all of his promises. But it’s too difficult to indulge that part of you. The shock of what happened in your family’s home is too much. It drops on your head like an anvil or a blacksmith's hammer. You’re entirely too aware of how your father’s blood dripped over his own fingers. Your mother crumpled to the ground as she watched Arthur take you away. 

“I don’t-don’t want to do this right now, please,” It’s maybe the first time you cry at his insistence. And the first time you’ve been utterly clear about what you do and don’t want. In the most explicit terms possible. You feel the tears well up in your eyes. You cried like this when he first told you what he wanted. They drip down the sides of your face. You hadn’t been able to stop him on the first night. And after he made you all too aware of how things work between a man and a woman, you hadn’t tried to, overwhelmed with how good he was at dragging pleasure out of you. But now, it’s like the world has come closing in and there’s nothing that can stop it from swallowing you whole. Not after what he did, simply because your father thought to stop him from taking his only daughter away. 

Your breathing comes far too quick. Your head feels like it's full of air and it begins to hurt. The cold stings your finger tips. You have no regard as to what your face looks like, letting it bunch up in what is probably an unsightly expression of your reactive sobbing.

“Hey, hey, I-” He’s no longer using that husky tone with which he usually addresses you when he gets like this. It’s trying to be soothing but a certain panic underlines his words. You can see him take his hands off of you, as if he’s burning you with every touch. But he still keeps you underneath some of his weight, his mouth opens as if to say something else, furrowed brows 

“Get off…Get off me,” you push at his shoulders and at first he doesn't move an inch. When you don’t immediately feel his weight move from pinning you down, your sobbing becomes volatile. Struggling to breath through your tears and your desperate wails, you inhale faster but it still feels like it's not enough. Thrashing mindlessly at him, uncaring of his anger or his punishments, is what makes him ease off of you a little. 

“Woah, easy,” he tugs your skirt down, shielding you from the cold as much as he can without touching you but you can’t stop yourself from being consumed by the physical reaction your shock evokes from you, wrenched from you. Like a child and their toys infected with scarlet fever. 

His soothing does work a little, now that you know he’s stopping, that he’s covered your legs. You sniff and writhe, your fingers grip at his upper arms. You can finally blink through your tears to see his expression, worry clouded with something you’ve never quite seen. The pull of his mouth tugs towards a guilt he’s never shown you before. 

You’re starting to breathe way too much, all of the air makes you dizzy and the cold still burns your lungs but you don’t care, letting the pain ground you. Your arms wrap around yourself to cover your breasts, trying to fix your ruined shirt to no avail. The frustrated fumbling of your fingers has Arthur softening more, but his voice still intonates with his natural authority.

“Sweetheart, you need to slow down. Jus’ breathe, you’ll be alright,” his commanding voice controls you more than you thought it would. He sits back on his haunches, hoping the distance might do you some good, crowding you isn’t in his best interest. You gasp for air, sitting up a little with the space he’s afforded you.

Arthur comes closer to calm you when he notices you can’t seem to do it all on your own. He’s slow, shushing you, his hand pets your hair, down behind your ear, to the side of your neck. He keeps his eyes low, the warmth of his hand helps you a little, so does his own rhythmic breathing, slow and steady.

He doesn’t say much for a minute or two, a ‘that’s my girl,’ tingles your ear, warms you up. You sigh, trying to regulate your breathing, appreciating his help but still feeling frightened and confused. Especially when you consider that he is the source of all your troubles. Arthur is close enough so you feel body heat, his fingers brush your tears away. Sweet in this gentle moment. How could you stand to take comfort from a man who shot your father? Who could have missed, who could have killed him? As always, you doubt that you’re right in the head. Something must be broken within you.

It’s hardwired though. Arthur is all you have left now. The only one here with you.

He doesn’t seem excited in the same way he was before. The adrenaline from his chase dies in your blood, leaving behind the residue of stress, a headache forming. The pace of your heart does slow down now, the puff of the air in your lungs. He watches you with an odd expression. Glad that you’ve calmed down but still disappointed. Perhaps with you, having ruined his plan of taking you, of spreading your legs in the snow, burying himself inside of you. If things hadn’t gone so wrong today, you might have let him.

The thought makes more shameful tears drip down your face. Despite any calm summoned from you, you still feel the curl of disgrace, laying in your tattered shirt underneath this man, shrinking away from his stare.

“What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” You can at least appreciate that he is worried about you, even if he has no clue why. You can see a fear in his eyes that he tries to hide from you, a fear that he’s caused you real pain. At least you know now that if you had done more screaming and crying, he might have stopped that day. You didn't think him to be so thick as to not understand why you are as emotional in this moment as you are. 

“Arthur, no, no, I just- I don’t want- I want to go home…now,” You had wanted to come away from this moment, maybe just a bit touched at how he had helped you through your foolish hysterics. But as always, some part of Arthur balances it out. 

“Just tell me why you was cryin’. I know that ain’t all of it,” He narrows his eyes. Your jaw drops, unable to hide your outrage. Your anger, which you keep in check most of the time, pushes at the lid of the pot you stuff it in. Every single grain of it threatens to spill out. Your fingers scrunch, your face does too. 

“Shooting my father and then hunting me like an animal; pushing me in the dirt for- for your desires- that’s not enough?” You realize now that dusk is here and it’s colder in this dark valley than it was before. You move to stand, he’s upright before you and he does try to help but you refuse him. Unfortunately, your anger hasn’t been honed into a point sharp enough to cut. It’s only wet and girlish, it makes you cry and tremble, your throat thickens unpleasantly.

“You did what you wanted with me, like you always do. But my family… I never wanted-” You wobble onto your feet, closing his coat in front of your chest. You should never have indulged him. You should have bitten and chewed and snarled and spat until he left you alone. 

You aren't sure why you didn't. You suppose it felt nice to have a man notice you, to call you pretty. To want you in some way other than to just ignore or to leer at disgustingly like the lonely trappers at the trading post, even when they were friends of your father. How pathetic of you. 

Yet, nothing about what he did felt disgusting. It was the expectation on you as a woman to reserve these affections for marriage that lashed against the inside of your ribcage. That whispered that it was wrong; it was anything but the pure and gentle lessons you received as a girl. Opening your legs so willingly for a man because he called you pretty, called you all sorts of saccharine praises, was tearing away at you. You hadn't fought him harder and at first you thought it was because there was no point, that he was too strong anyway so why waste the energy? But now, you aren't so sure of that resolve. 

He was handsome in his own way and he didn’t seem like all the boys your mother told you to keep an eye on in case you should marry one day. Lanky and thin, sparse hairs on their chins which they stroked like great beards. He wasn’t a drunken fool or witless boy.

Arthur was a man. He acted like one, he smelled like one, looked like one. He wasn’t afraid to muck stalls, to cook. And he acted like you were married already, like you loved him and he loved you. Perhaps you liked the idea of having a man such as him, a man who didn’t need you to replace his mother’s duties, a man who wanted you to simply be with him. And those glittering moments where you played house with him, sat on his lap and let him kiss you. You could have stayed with him there forever, buried in the snow. You would have been happy if spring’s thaw never came. But now, he stands, with an almost resentful look at your accusatory tone.

Everything has dissolved into a coagulated mess, like spoiled milk. 

“I do what I want with you? The hell does that mean?” He’s more upset now, at the insinuating circumstances. 

“Arthur,” you recoil at the anger in his voice. You don’t even know what you meant particularly but Arthur fishes a meaning out from your words, even if you hadn’t put too much stock into your own words. 

“You’re sayin’ that I violated you, is that it?” his hands rest on his hips as he moves to keep staring you in the eye, you’ve never seen him like this before. Really angry. 

“I didn’t ask to do that with you, I told you to…” It’s like he can sense how noncommittal you are with your own sentiments. Your own certainty doesn't linger with you. As much as you would like it too. He sniffs it out like a bloodhound, throwing the truth in your face. 

“You know what I think? I think- fact, I know. You’re one of those gently reared girls, think they’re better than this, above any of this low down ruttin’ us sinners do. You can’t even say it, can you? All that we got up to. That’s called fuckin’ , sweetheart,” The word curls into his vicious smile. You’re scandalized, can feel how your hands pull his coat even tighter. You don’t think you’ve heard anyone talk like that to you. It’s a dirty word but you suppose that is what it felt like to be with him. Dirty. But that rush, you can’t deny that. The one that shoots up your spine when you remember how it made you feel. 

��“Can’t say you ain’t like it, can’t say you did; and I get it. Ain’t the first time I met a girl like you. But you can’t lie to me,” 

You ignore the hind-brain jealousy that pokes your mind. His words are truer than you want them to be. You said stop once or twice, although you can’t recall too well about things you said. Instead, you told him you belonged to him. You had meant to endear yourself to him. It worked far more than you wanted it to. 

Pretending like you didn’t want him to do what he did protected your own self important image as your father and mother preferred you, not how things really were. And now that you don’t have them anymore, what use was that image? You try to cling to the truth of your old life, crumbling to pieces around you. 

“It’s not just about that. I…I didn’t say yes…I thought you would hurt me, you told me you didn’t want me to fuss. When you told me I had to stay…” you stun him, he seems like he hardly remembers doing that. In that low voice, his startling command. It scared you to the bone then, but it did shake something awake. You had never felt so wanted in your life as that day. Both of you are some type of wrong, you think. Maybe he recognized the same kind of wrong in you.

Carefully, he mulls over what you said. It affects him, you can see how that same guilt settles in the creases of his face. It roots around his eyes, the harsh lines soften. How his boots scuff against the ground. One of his hands scratches at his beard. But all too soon, it’s gone and a resolve hardens on his face, like he’s dashed the guilt away. Made room for something else. 

“Am I just supposed to believe you was lyin’ when you said you liked it? I don’t make you talk, darlin’. You might be pretty as a doll,” He looks over your features, over your hair and your pouting lip. “But you ain’t no string puppet. Wouldn’t hurt you, honey, not like that, not how you’re meanin’. It’d do you some good to remember that ain’t true ‘bout most anybody else,” He lets his body naturally intimidate yours, looking down his nose at you.

You don’t know how he can have such a prideful stare. Like he knows he’s right. He pushes the memory of your father, kneeling and gripping his wound to the front of your mind. 

“You didn’t have to shoot him. Heaven forbid my father from trying to protect me from you. Wouldn’t be the first time a father tried to keep his daughter from marrying you. Arthur, why exactly is it your first instinct to go waving a gun around when something goes wrong? I don’t understand what drives someone to do the things you do,” He chuckles darkly, as if you told a morose joke at a funeral. He does let a quiet frustration come over him, a glare gets leveled at you. But he holds himself tightly in his own restraint. Your retaliation against him; he treats it as a minor slight. You cross your arms while he brushes it off. All too good at letting insults slide off his back.

“That makes the two of us. I ain’t been a good man most my life and I ain’t sure I’ll ever be any good at it. I try to be good to you, I do, but maybe it ain’t enough. That’s just fine with me,” He steps closer to you, sensing your shock at his words. He’s back to that prowling wolf from before. His demeanor changes on a dime. He bends at the waist to grab his gloves and hat, dusting the bottom of the brim casually against his coat before placing it back on his head. His gloves are shoved haphazardly in his pocket. “I don’t know if I need that from you, some fairytale love story, where your Pa hands you over to me and I bring you up to the altar dressed like a government boy,” You’re almost afraid of him, how he carries himself. There's a dread hanging in the air around him, a foreboding poke in the back of your head. 

“Used to be an outlaw, around New Austin, Heartlands, all over…” you look at the cold look in his eyes. Colder than the snow that dusts the ground. Frozen stiff like a corpse, but you tremble anyway. He shifts his legs, widening his stance and placing one hand on his belt, next to the shiny revolver. “I’ve killed people, robbed them, or both…done things I wasn’t always proud of. I ain’t too proud of what I done with you neither. Tellin’ you that is…just about as good as bein’ married. Can’t let ya go wanderin’ off knowin’ the truth, now,” Arthur raises his arms in something like a shrug. The nonchalant air about him has that wet anger rising in your throat again.

“You ain’t goin’ back home. Least the home you had. Me puttin’ a bullet in your Pa don’t change that. I’d advise you to make your peace with the fact. I keep havin’ to tell you. I hate repeatin’ myself,” You continue to stare, eyes wide with the realization of his truth. An outlaw. You must be the most unfortunate girl in the state. To walk into the home of a killer. Your thoughts trail back to how he disposed of the body of the man who had tried to rob you. The cold and careless manner of dealing with death was telling then. It screams at you now.

“I-I’m not some belonging for you to collect, for you to hang on your wall. To put up on top of your fireplace, Arthur,”

“No, you’re much more than that,” You aren’t completely sure of his meaning. But it’s something that entails you being with him how he wills it. No better than being chained to his bed, really. He nears you and you do take a wary step backward, a little afraid of the neutrality on his features. He schools his reactions, tells you of his past with no remorse. 

“If you care for me, care for me at all, wouldn’t you- wouldn't you let me go?” you ask but you know his answer, when he finally closes in on you, drags one finger down the curve, the roundness of your cheek. His thumb rests on your lips, his other fingers curl around to almost the nape of your neck. His hand makes you feel entirely too small in his hold. Guides you to look up at him, as your fingers clutch the fur of his coat tightly around you. 

“See, that’s the problem right there,” he has a strange twist to his voice, a light lilt while he smirks down at you, the darkness dipping the shadows across his face into an even darker tone. “I care about you too much. Maybe it ain’t right, can’t say I give a damn either way,” the fragility of this moment isn’t broken until he puts a kiss on your lips that’s a thousand times lighter than the precarious air of this conversation. But you should have known being so restrained isn’t permanent with Arthur. 

A strong hand closes on your hip, drags you into the front of him. His breath quickens, it flatters you how much he likes you so near to him. Your hip aches pleasantly as he squeezes it. Your heart swells, you wish you could will yourself into rejecting him.

“Tell me you don’t want me, honey. Tell me to leave you alone…” You’re stiff as an iron rod when he pulls you to him. You brace yourself on him, hands compelled naturally to lay flat on his chest. Something about the full form of his body is so pleasing to you, the breadth of him against you. The warmth you feel and the strength lying in wait. The smell of him, leather and hide, tobacco and mint. It closes you in. You open your mouth to say something. Anything. 

“Arthur, that’s not fair,” you whine. Your anger might have caused you to lash out at him for once. But you’re back to the docile thing he liked to chase around, too occupied with his body so close to yours to realize that you’ve dropped all pretense of that strong front, that you haven’t answered his question. You wish you could continue being the kind of person who could tell someone like Arthur what he's asking. Strong willed, not so swayed. But you’re moved in the opposite direction by whatever is inside of you, some deep buried want of yours. And the constant tone of knowing that he’s bigger and stronger than you. It’s always there, rain pattering on the roof in autumn. He had no trouble chasing after you like this, in the encroaching dusk. It was more a game than any real challenge.

“Just say it, you keep tryin’ to, don’t ya?” you look away. Why can’t you say it? When he’s inviting you to rebuff him. You look up at him. A knot gets tangled in your insides. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. What is wrong with you?

“You can’t cause you don’t mean it, not when this little pussy gets wet when I touch you, when you kiss me back. You don’t remember when you was touchin’ all over me? Those kisses you put on me?” he teases you, a more smug exhale is what you get. The night weighs on your shoulders like a heavy blanket and so does his reality check. He has a sigh and a faint groan, as if thinking of all that you’ve done with him in the privacy of his home. 

You think to defy him, to spite his words but you can’t when he gives you another kiss. The dryness he licks away. This one is a wet sloppy mess, it doesn’t last long but he’s as right as he knew he was, you melt into it, grab onto him, tilt so he can kiss you deeper. His teeth nip at your soft lips, his tongue rubs over yours. A warm shame fills your belly and crawls up your face. You can’t bring yourself to hate his stupid smug lovesick look, the way he rubs the scar on his chin as he pulls away.

“You like me, don’t you, sweetheart?” He’s mocking you now, he knows the answer just as well as you do but he likes to feel like he’s wrenching it out of you. He’s caught you and he’s holding you up by the ears while you dangle uselessly; a rabbit caught in the hunt. You stare up at him, caught in his pretty blue eyes, the little nicked scar on his nose bridge. You have a very reluctant almost imperceptible nod. Despite the raging heat in you at such an admittance. You like the man who locked you in his home, who wants you to marry him while hardly knowing him, who used to be an outlaw. 

“Even after I shot your daddy? You’re somethin’ else, girl,” he revels in your reaction but with his own version of pity, an endeared expression at your warbling chin and heavy sniff.

A bad feeling curdles in your belly, you bite your lip. You shouldn’t do this. How could you ever do this to your family? Turn your back on them like this? But you didn’t see another choice. Tears bead on your lash line. He has to rub his inevitable victory in your face. You don’t know how you’re going to continue. How you can even stand the sight of Arthur: of yourself. Now that he’s twisted everything out of shape to suit his needs. You should spit on him. Curse him until he gets struck down by the powers that be. 

But you don’t. You aren't sure there’s any end to that. You hope to never repeat this cycle again. Where you try to pull against his control and he overpowers, strong-arming you into doing as he pleases. He gathers your tears, brushes them away. Rough calluses over the little sensory hairs on your skin. 

“C’mon, sweet thing, it’s time you get what ya want, huh? Time to go home.” 

UGH this arthur gets on my fucking nerves but i am so weak for him i hate his corny ass. god dark arthur is just too much for me lmaooo feedback is more than appreciated, please let me know your thoughts im begging wahhhhh

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! About a certain fox’s career and about bottoms potentially spoiling their tops…

Anonymous asked:

So I’ve seen around Leona x Idia and politely ask you for some (and please don’t make the wholesome) headcannons if your able to

Anon! Unfortunately, I’ll have to politely refuse because we don’t really ship Leona and Idia :(

Anonymous asked:

Honest John should make an Onlyfans. How do you think he would do with that?

Anon’s out there using his legal name 😭 Jk this one also isn’t his legal name…

I think he has a lot of potential! There would be a learning curve because he properly doesn’t know how to use technology super well, but he knows how porn and pinups work, so… Even though his taste is a bit old-fashioned… I think that would make him fit into a very specific niche 🤔

And if it works, that would make him euphoric – imagine earning money like that without really risking it?? People who have money to spend really are naïve saps! He would laugh at them as if he is not genuinely enjoying himself for the first time in forever lol

Realistically, his biggest issue is that he absolutely doesn’t have a credit card to receive payments, and he doesn’t have a proper ID, but with the right kinds of friends that’s probably easy to fix!

Anonymous asked:

bless you for the rookvil love the art its so wonderful!! <3 and the rookvil girlies on your priv X aaa <3333 Rook in lingerie is such a treat!! i remember you said she doesn't like to be touched and i was wondering if there's a specific reason you say why? is it just rook girlie or all the top girlies? omg do any of the bottoms return the pleasure for their tops or spoil them back? ok ill stop buT I DO LOVE THE ART MUAH love it. ty for the food! <3

Anonymous asked:

wait do the boys also spoil their tops... oKA y im done im donne lmao im sorry ! stay hydrated have a wonderful day/night

Thank you, Anon! <3 I’m happy you love them, both the ones we posted a couple of days ago and the girlies! Rook in lingerie is indeed a treat and a special rare occasion for Vil only…

As for Rook not liking to be touched, (ignoring my bias that I’m going to address in a minute) it’s more of a Rook thing: she prefers to do “the hunting” and pinning someone down completely is like her instinct. If asked though, she would just say that it would get her too aroused and her heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe there is some truth to that statement, but… Vil is absolutely allowed to touch her much more than anyone else would, and she mostly does it when she wants to see Rook worked up and agitated. Vil says that it’s like teasing a feral dog that likes the pets but also doesn’t.

As for the rest of the ladies, I kind of talked about this here in the last reply. We are biased towards bottom!girlies receiving all the attention, and this for sure affects how we see top!girlies’ preferences lol But I think not all of them are as much of touch-me-nots as Rook: Rook isn’t even the worst one out of them. Azul is one of the biggest ones; she hates being touched unless she is the one demanding that, and sometimes it gets ridiculous with her. But Ace, Jack or Kalim are not as bad, and Floyd flip-flops as usual. But none of them would let the bottom!girls take the lead completely.

So yeah, while technically all the bottom!girlies could still pleasure their tops, this just isn’t the dynamic we usually gravitate towards, like I explained in the linked post. It all depends on context, I guess. I think they would do a different kind of spoiling, like teasing, dressing up a certain way, allowing something that wasn’t previously allowed, all that stuff.

With the boys it’s easier though! I can see pretty much all of the bottoms being willing to give their tops a blowjob or a handjob depending on a situation, some are more willing than others though~

The ones that are the most likely to do it are Vil (big fan of rewarding with a bj), Silver (he is such a good boy), Epel (he is eager to please and to prove himself!!) and Deuce (he acts first and thinks after, and sometimes it puts him on his knees because he feels too much love towards his top and wants to express it).

[asocialangel]

sitting on itzy's lap out of habit.

Chaeryeong - fluff - 609 words

Other verions: Yeji - Lia - Ryujin - Chaer - Yuna

Chaeryeong: would instinctively push you off, then regret and talk you into coming back, swearing she won't let herself be surprised again. She would be super nervous the whole time tho, so it's not that comfortable.

why is it my itzy content is flopping ? where are MIDZY ? hahaha, i find this writing very cute, had the idea while i was reminiscing a mini apple flavored kit-kat i bought in Japan... (btw i try not to care when sumtin flops. It's hard bcos social media made me used to look forward to big numbers but hey, i write for myself and the niche fandoms that could enjoy it-)

Through the screeching sound of chairs being dragged on the floor, people starting to chat again and the door getting opened by the teacher, you search for your phone in your school bag. On the tip of your fingers, you feel it and grab it as you’re lifting your head up. There you saw her, sitting on her chair, hair all over her notebooks. ChaerYeong was still writing something and didn’t even bother to look at you. You got up and started pushing your chair back under your desk, when you remembered you had something for her. Well the both of you. You reach again to your bag, taking out two mini kit-kats, one strawberry flavored, the other peach. You got up again and started walking to your friend. She still hadn;t turned her head, but she knew you were coming anyway.

“Sup Y\N ?” She greeted, without even looking at you, still finishing up prettifying her notes. “3rd period is still as boring as ever, but great. Chaer, we have a 10 minute break, better make the most out of it, stop thinking about class for 10 lovely minutes”, you answered. “Hm right’. She suddenly started tidying up her desk and putting her books away. When she was done, she pushed her chair back, to be further away from her desk. She finally turned diagonally to see you better. “I don’t wanna get up tho. It’s not like there’s anything interesting to do anyways”. “True”, you agreed, looking at your kit-kats. You handed the strawberry one to her, which she accepted, thanking you softly. You knew she’d prefer it anyway.

As you started opening its wrapper, you mindlessly started sitting on her lap. I mean, it’s not like there was another free seat. But you could only start bending your knees that Chaeryeong had already pushed you off. “W-what are you doing ?!” Embarrassed that she reacted too loudly, she looked around her to see if anyone was staring at her, but thankfully no one cared. The classroom was so busy, everyone was focused on their own thing. Unimpressed, you looked at her face. She seemed flustered more than mad, so it was okay, it’s not like you broke any boundaries, just caught her by surprise. 

“Uhm well nothing, just sitting sorry”. No hard feelings nor embarrassment in your tone, you just dead-pan started eating your kit-kat. Realizing she might have overrated, Chaer started talking you out into coming back: “Sorry, I, uh was startled. But come, it’d be unfair for you to stay standing while I'm comfy here.” After a few back and forths, you finally accepted and placed yourself on her lap.

You were both facing the table, but you turned your head back to her when you were talking. “You have a peach one right ? I wanna try it please, can I ?” You nodded as you stretched your arm behind you. She stuck her head up and took a bite out of the chocolate. As she expressed her delightment (“Mhmm that’s what im talking about !”), you whispered under your breath that she was so cute. She heard it, of course, and you felt her whole body tense up. I mean tense up even more than it already was. 

To be completely honest, sitting with her was not the most comfortable thing ever, because she was so nervous. But spending time close to her like this, made you overlook that.

A\N: did you like it ? My fav itzy song recently is snowy. Comeback was announced this mornin !

[nevereatpearss]

For the ask game, 15, 22, 28, 37? :D

15. Favourite song? Hmmmm I really don’t think that I have a favourite song, some years ago when I was in my mainstream pop era it was Cheerleader by OML (I think that’s who it was by, you know the song I’m sure).

Another song I recently found that I enjoy is On and On by Lars Eriksson which is pretty chill, I enjoy the sort of old sound to it. But yeah don’t really have a favourite song.

22. Have you ever gotten in trouble with the law? Nope. I’m a good law abiding citizen.

28. What type of music do you like? All of it. All of it Soam. I love music. Lately (like the last week) we’ve been into rap, and 2000s music. Rock and roll is a favourite of mine definitely, but I do listen to just about all the music. With a preference for actual instruments as opposed to synth.

37. Favourite swear word? You know I don’t think I’ve ever actually sworn on tumblr, fuck and damn are probably my most used. Bollocks is fun to say, bloody hell is another common one for myself, bastard. As for favourite.. I feel like I’d want to do research to find a really niche old fashioned swear word. But I can’t be bothered right now so just have the ones I use.

Is damn even a swear word..?

Asks from this post https://www.tumblr.com/nevereatpearss/755495278382022656/get-to-know-me-uncomfortably-well

[byoldervine]

How The Byoldervine Characters Would React To Meeting Their Clone

Enigma: A mix of creeped out, fascinated and cautious. She’s genre-savvy enough to be worried about the whole evil clone thing. She’s kinda flip-flopping between reactions and not really settling on anything. Would probably try to get to know the clone to try and figure out its intentions, but she wouldn’t fall down the rabbit hole of actually starting to befriend herself

Angelus: “Dear gods is this how I come off?” is definitely gonna be the main question he has, but it’s gonna be varying wildly between utterly disgusted with himself and being so damn pleased and validated

Lazulai: Will be asking her clone so many questions. She’s also genre-savvy like Enigma but she’s gonna be open to befriending them. They don’t have enough chances to annoy each other because they mostly just gush about books and stuff so it’s like a fandom echo chamber. They both feel so heard and glad that they have someone to listen to them and care about their incredibly niche interests without only listening because they care about Lazulai rather than the material in question

Kennedy: They’d give each other a once over, nod in acknowledgement and then just never interact again. She’s not messing with this bullshit

Connor: He’d be firing non-stop jokes with his clone the whole time, but the moment they’re separated he’d turn to Kennedy and go “I see why I’m annoying”. Still would genuinely enjoy his time with his clone. Would unknowingly recreate the Spider-Man meme with his clone and Persephone would be so pissed that she didn’t think to do it

[ceebit]

Hello…..if i may so humbly request changmin bf headcanons……..i simply love (evil) squirrel cuteness……. (i say with my brain melting out my ears)

boyfriend!changmin headcanons

⟡ note : hiiii ^_^ don’t worry i got u (brain also melting out of my ears in tandem)

when i say there are literally hearts in his eyes when he talks about you…. he will find a way to bring you up in conversations that don’t even start that way. someone could be talking about literally anything and he’s like ‘oh yn was talking about that earlier! and speaking of yn—’ (chanhee is gagging in the corner again) (pls save him)

you know, as extroverted as he comes off, i kind of see him becoming a lot more quiet? when in a relationship? not in the sense where his personality is subdued, but. he’s more prone to observing you in your element. more likely to let you lead with things because your flow is his flow.

super sentimental like this boy is a sap <//3 shares all his deep thoughts with you. long conversations about emotions and feelings and all that because he trusts you enough to share the weight of his thoughts with you. has cried on your shoulders and you on his. wants you to know that your worries and fears are safe with him. (crying crying crying cr)

you know how cats bring like. random things they deem presents to their owners lmao? you have a lil album titled ‘gifts <3’ and it’s pictures of random things he sees that remind him of you. from pretty autumn leaves to raccoon memes

his favorite pastime is flopping on to you and falling asleep to you running your hands in his hair. please. nobody look at me i’m fragile i have a weak heart

(this is specifically for u bc we talked abt this for like two seconds but. sending pics when he’s at this gym like ‘hi ^_^ the song playing rn made me think of you <3’ and the picture he sends is like. faceless and him in a black t-shirt with messy hair and most likely a gym buddy goofing off in the background. but back to black t-shirts— [the ambient sounds of me getting run over by a lawn mower])

and who is ji changmin without his love for the unnatural… you have privileges the others don’t, though. if horror isn’t your niche, then he’s willing to subdue that around you. if it is, then congrats! you’ve found your match. (you still hear the screams of his poor victims regardless)

back home ⟡ the archive ⟡ join my taglist ⟡ last post

[staysuki]

S01 E01 • PILOT

warnings: none.

word count: 3k (probably the most fun i've had in writing something, esp. a prologue, in a while).

“jypublishing, this is shuhua. how can i help you?” the greeting tone of the receptionist’s voice dripped with chirpiness. one that makes you think she’s actually being friendly—but that wasn't the case.

because she’s standing in front of you with a dead look on her face while holding a finger up, telling you to wait for a second as she answers the call. “yes, ma’am, mr. lee minho is back from the road.”

you see her lips twitch in annoyance, so you just decided to wander your eyes around the lobby while waiting.

“ma’am, i’m just a receptionist, if you have any other concerns, please follow proper procedure. i can schedule you an appointment with—”

you try to tune her growing irate voice out, gazing at the beautiful building with extreme awe. because jyp is a new company, their interior design greatly reflects the current standards of modern architecture.

“no, ma’am, you can’t specifically request—ma’am no, that’s not how this works. this is the jyp publishing company not jyp choose-your-own–agent company.”

the white walls are accented with light oak, and glass panels decor the walls alongside framed art pieces that probably cost more than your yearly rent.

greenery is littered around the place, giving the building a much needed spark of color and life with the soft lighting.

“ok whatever you say ma’am,” you hear shuhua last say before she clicks her tongue and drops the call.

you see her roll her eyes as she mutters, “crazy bitch,” not even trying to make her disdain subtle. she looks down on her receptionist desk for a second before grabbing something.

soon enough, she turns back to you and hands you your ID card. “welcome to jyp something something, enjoy the glamour while it lasts and try not to strangle yourself after a week. enjoy.” shuhua says monotonically and waves you off.

but you don’t let her pessimism get to you. muttering a quick thank you, you bow your head before going further into the building. although you’d want to look around more, you have a scheduled meeting with your department head and can’t afford to get late.

despite being in a publishing house, you weren’t here because you’re a writer—no, no, you’re a part of the human resources department. but you sure as hell loved to read.

this isn’t your dream job per se, but out of all the jobs you could’ve gotten, this was definitely the best. jypublishers has some of the bestselling authors under their name, all to the point that if you get published under them, you’re bound to stardom (whether good or bad), and it definitely wouldn’t hurt to see some of your favorite authors in person.

despite being new to the biz, they somehow managed to rise up to fame in a respectable way, thanks to the way they quality check the works under their name.

in the span of seven years, the small company has managed to expand—but not on a full-on scale, as you certainly still feel the humble beginnings of the publishing house.

but of course, they’re not some huge identity like the new york times already—they’re just known for their own niche. even with their successes, the company isn’t invulnerable from failures, or as the general public calls it: flops. but they’ve proven themselves enough to be worthy of proper acknowledgement.

when you get to the elevator, you see the janitor who gives you a polite nod which you return. in the other corner there’s two men in proper office attire busy in their own conversation—not even giving you a second glance. still, you can’t help but feel small beside them (even metaphorically) as they carry themselves with a sense of belonging.

although you don’t mean to, you can’t help but overhear their conversation. “you better watch out for hwang today, jeongin, that man came here looking like he wants to raise hell.” a long-haired guy says with a joking tone.

the other man, jeongin, just snorts out a dry laugh, “gee, good thing i’m in a different department. besides, if he pisses me off again, i’d hold his payroll for another week like last time.”

the other guy almost chokes on his coffee at jeongin’s snarky comment, still, their conversation continues. “lmao please, not you taking advantage of your position again. besides, i heard he’s extra angry because his girlfriend broke up with him or something.”

the comment made jeongin smirk, “big oof, but can’t say i’m surprised. he’s shit at relationships.”

“with a face like his, you’d think he’d be unfazed.”

jeongin laughs out loud again, “HAH no, beomgyu, hwang is the biggest drama queen there is. i bet he’s just mad that the girl broke up with him and not the other way around.”

beomgyu laughs at jeongin’s comment before the janitor signals his floor and he taps jeongin’s shoulder in goodbye, “catch you later, idiot.”

so, now, you’re left in awkward silence with jeongin who still doesn’t give you a single glance and opts to just start tapping away on his phone.

after jeongin gets off the elevator, the janitor follows—it was then that you realize that you’re 3 floors above your department and you forgot to press your own button. just as you were about to, you hear someone shout, “please hold the door!!”

aggressive clacking of heels draws near before a lady hops inside with you, catching her breath after running across the hallway. “whew! almost didn’t make it, that would’ve been bad luck.”

she smiles at you, a friendly one that reaches her kitty-like eyes. you can’t help but return the kind gesture. like every other person you’ve encountered so far, she’s also dressed neatly—but her personality shines in the colorful, child-like clips that adorn her long hair, contrasting the drab office attire.

“bad luck?” you ask as you press the button to your floor, and she nods.

“yeah, you know, when you chase after something and don’t catch up to it then you’re bound for misery!” she explains with a cheery tone despite the weirdly depressing superstition (that you’ve never heard of before).

“i’m yeji, by the way!” she outstretches her hand, so you attempt to shake it—but she just slaps it for a sideways high-five.

“uhh, i’m y/n, i’m new—i’m going to be working for HR.” you say, wondering if she’s in the same department as you.

“oh!! welcome y/n! i hope you enjoy it here, it’s really fun. HR sucks but not everyone here is like the HR department,” she says with much enthusiastic genuinity that you wonder what it meant.

with no response, you just nod with a smile, “well, this is my floor. you?”

she smacks herself in the forehead, “i can’t believe i forgot to press the button again! it’s just so fun riding the elevator.”

you wave goodbye to her, which she reciprocates, before heading to your designated workspace. what a weird girl, you thought to yourself.

at least she was nice and full of life though, unlike the receptionist. still, you can’t help but heed yeji’s warnings about HR.

as you assemble your files on your desk, a small knock on your cubicle startles you, “y/ln, y/n?” a gruffy dead voice asks behind you.

immediately, you turn around to face him—immediately recognizing him as your department’s head, “mr. kang.. taehyun?”

he nods before lazily grabbing a chair to sit beside you. “great, let’s get this whole orientation thing over with, shall we?”

“sure, sir,” you nod and listen intently. the first few parts were just normal protocol stuff—something you’ve heard before, so it didn’t take you long to get the gist of it.

however, weird details are definitely added into the mix, “so, the company’s secretary is a really weird guy so don’t take his words to heart. preferably, just tune him out—or maybe don’t even entertain whatever he says.”

you nod reluctantly, trying to keep a mental note of the sudden shift in content.

“the editor-in-chief is a literal child but the higher-ups treat him like some genius so it’s a pain to deal with him. probably above your pay grade so if a conflict arises with him, just pass it on to a superior that is preferably not me.”

a literal child? like.. a child? or someone who acts childish? you couldn’t bring yourself to ask so you just take his words for it.

“lastly, there’s a shit ton of conflict between departments which is a pain to deal with, so as long as it’s nothing too damaging, i just tend to ignore it.” with that, taehyun arranges his papers before dragging himself back to his office with a sigh. it felt awfully informal but you didn’t bother speaking up—you knew that office politics were different for each company and it would take a while to get used to.

for now, you were at least semi-grateful that you’re given a sort of warning. before you could start going through your new files, your desk landline rings.

“ms. y/ln y/n? this is kim seungmin from the president’s office. mr. president would like to see you in his office pronto.” you hear over the phone.

before you could ask where the president’s office was, he immediately cuts you off with an awkward laugh, “was that cool? did i sound cool? this is normally shuhua’s job but i get to do it for the president’s matters.”

“you sound.. normal?” you answer.

“goddammit. should i try again?” he asks.

“no, i think i got it. may i know where his office is?” you ask before he could say anything more bizarre.

“on the peak of the summit, the man awaits behind double doors.” seungmin answers, and you had to stifle a sigh.

once more, he asks right away, “what about that, does that sound cool?”

you take a deep breath, willing yourself to be polite, “yes, but also i’m not sure what you mean.”

“tsk, newbies,” he grumbles, “it’s on the topmost floor, just go straight and it’s the first set of double doors.”

“noted, thank you!” you try to answer with a forced chirpy tone but he just says “kk” before dropping the call.

right away, you tell taehyun that you’re being called upstairs, but he just waves you off. once again, you find yourself entering the elevator, coming across a bulky man struggling to hold 5 coffee cups at once. although there's someone else in the elevator with him, he can't seem to be bothered to help the poor guy—nor does he even seem to be awake as he leans on the corner of the elevator with closed eyes. so, you take matters into your own hands.

“do you need help?” you ask nicely, taking two from his arms that’re threatening to spill all over the floor.

“oh thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he thanks you with a heavy accent before bowing politely.

“do you want those? i’m only supposed to get two but i kept messing up the orders so now i have three extras that i don’t need,” he hisses at the stupidity so you just give him a small smile.

“sure,” you forcibly accept despite wanting to reject the offer because you’ve already had a cup and you didn’t really want to over consume caffeine with an extra two cups.

“i’m chan, by the way. assistant editor-in-chief.”

you bow politely, realizing that he has a high position, which wasn’t really obvious given his modest and skittish demeanor, “ah, i’m y/n from HR, nice to meet you.”

suddenly, you hear the other guy cough, and mutters "assistant TO THE editor-in-chief," under his breath. but chan didn't seem to notice the comment—or at least, blissfully ignores it. though the action gets your attention, so when the guy closes his eyes again, you spare a glance at his nametag and read "choi soobin," though you couldn't see his position.

when chan gets to his floor, you exchange polite goodbyes before you arrive on your own, not minding soobin who seems to be back to napping while standing up. following seungmin’s directions, you come upon a set of double doors, but you see the man himself sitting comfortably on a nearby desk.

you see him leaning back on a plush chair with his legs propped on top of the desk, but you read the nameplate that says “lee taemin, secretary” which tells you that this definitely isn’t seungmin’s space.

“just go in, no need to knock since he’s expecting you anyways, and i think it’d be funny if you catch him off-guard, probably jack—jacketing. wearing a jacket, or something,” seungmin jokes, showing you a toothy grin as he prevents himself from saying something inappropriate.

“can i leave this here?” you ask, putting down the two cups of coffee on his desk. he shrugs before sitting upright in surprise in a split-second.

eyes trained on the coffee, “is this perhaps for me??” he asks with wide eyes and an agape expression that slowly turns into a smug one.

“the new girl is already making moves on the big guys huh? i see you,” he crosses his arms with a smirk (which he can’t really do properly so it just looks like a full-on smile), and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“yes, you can have it, sir, but i’m not trying to make a move. i just got them from someone else,” you explain before knocking on the door, not wanting to indulge seungmin and his weird conversations any longer, you even hear him mutter a small “ouch” at your coldness.

when you get inside, you immediately greet the president politely, who urges you to have a seat in front of him. “i’m sure you already know me, i’m suh young-ho but that’s a bit too formal for my taste so just call me johnny,” he leans back on his chair, pointing towards a stephen king poster that says “here’s johnny”

you just nod politely, not knowing whether he’s joking with his dry tone or not. nonetheless, you just let him speak.

“so, i’m not sure if you’ve heard but there’s been quite a lot of changes in the company recently. i’ve only been the head for like—almost a year, barely, so you could say that i’m trying to get my leadership footing.”

you nod along but not really sure how you—a mere human resources employee—would be relevant to someone like him.

“so, anyways. i called you up here because i needed someone new and fresh and unbiased. most of the people here have already been working for quite a long time and they’ve survived the leadership shift—that being said…”

johnny leans on his elbows on the desk, suddenly turning serious. this makes you subconsciously sit upright, listening intently.

“i want you to be my spy and tell me whenever someone makes a comment about me,” he says with a dead serious face.

“excuse me?” you ask, dumbfounded, so johnny reiterates himself.

“look, i need to know, okay? how would i know if there are any holes in my leadership? i can’t improve if i don’t hear feedback and those QA surveys don’t do shit because nobody actually bothers to fill them out,” he starts ranting.

apparently, this opened a can of worms for johnny because he suddenly won’t stop.

“i can’t even trust my own P.A. because kim seungmin also worked for the previous boss and quite frankly, he’s an airhead. my secretary is always M.I.A., our literary agents act like they’re higher than me, our receptionist doesn’t even greet me anymore, then to top it all off, my editors-in-chief don’t even value my input! infuriating, seriously!”

you honestly don’t know what to say. is this some kind of test?

“anyways, with that out of the way, i want you to report back to me with any sort of findings. here, we’ll even have burner phones.” he hands you an old nokia, which you reluctantly accept.

“i don’t think this is part of the job description..” you comment but johnny just shrugs.

“well now it is, or else you’re fired. nice meeting you, y/n, i hope you get settled nicely in the company and get those juicy gossip for me.” he dismisses you so you just stand and awkwardly bow before leaving.

outside, you don’t see seungmin anymore (thankfully so) nor the cups of coffee. but you still dread riding the elevator, realizing that it’s such a drag to encounter other employees with such…. vivid personalities.

thankfully, the universe heard your prayers and you see nobody inside the elevator—but it makes sense, given the fact that you’re coming from the top floor and not a lot of people have business with the president.

when you get back to your desk, you see a new folder placed on your desk, one marked with “complaint” in big, bold, red letters. you look over at taehyun but he’s busy, so you just open the file, noticing that it’s coming from the marketing and advertising department.

there, you read:

“han jisung is being a big poopy bastard and is looking down on my job. not my fault that he’s jealous that i get to make tiktoks for a living. anyways, taehyun told me this isn’t grounds for complaint unless he actually does something mean, and today i finally caught him deleting one of my drafts.

that is destruction of private company property (i think) and sabotage of work. MY GENIUS WORK. please apprehend this barbaric man immediately and send him to the po-po. thanks, felix from social media marketing <3.”

you sigh, realizing that this job is going to be a tough one.

directory | ->

taglist: open.

mastertag: @geniejunn @leagreenly @90s-belladonna @fuzzylard @loveliebri @chimmybaek7 @todorokiskitten @lilacdreams-00 @ethereallino @ninjaleeknow @trials--error @hey-i-really-miss-you @multifandomizer @aerastus @caratinylyfe @kdhvier @hibuki-chan

thoughts and feedback pls 🤲

[swoftbambi]

fluff alphabet 🌂🔮

◇°・pairing: jean x gn!reader

◇°・authors note: some of these are canonverse but most are modern au. i was trying to get this done for the most part cause my draft are getting high sorry T^T

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬- what activities do they enjoy doing with you?

peeing

he likes to take you to fancy niche sorta restaurants. he loves to see you dress up and look so cute across the table.

another activity you both enjoy doing is watching open house shows together, he likes to think of you and him living in one of those homes, also gives very good criticism on the houses design and interior.

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲- what do they admire about you?

jean physical admirations for you or beauty marks and birthmarks. if you had a beauty spot on you idk why but he would think it just enhances your looks, just like beauty marks.

non-physical your intelligence. he loves smart people imo, also the way you can hold for your own.

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭- how do you comfort each other?

jean hugs you and let’s you cry on his shoulder. you don’t even have to talk or explain what happened he’ll let you get it all out before trying to help you through whatever has you down.

if he’s having a particularly bad day he kinda just flops on you, so you can just massage the kinks and stress out of his day.

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬- how do you picture your life together?

yes all the time, like i said he’s a romantic.

𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬- are they dominate or passive in a relationship?

i would like to say dominate, but he’s more so neutral. i don’t think he really cares about roles but he does want to appear manly sometimes (ie: when someone’s flirting with you etc) but i feel like he just goes with the flow.

𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭- would it be easy to forgive their s/o?

nothing really gets him overly upset. he really doesn’t mind anything you do unless it’s tiny things like not cutting the crust off his sandwich, stealing the last one of his nutella stick snacks, turning the channel when he’s watching the game, stealing one of his college alumni shirts.

if you do something that does make him angry. he kinda just argues a bit with you before leaving the room so he can be left with his thoughts. just to kinda go over the whole situation.

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞- how grateful are they in general?

very grateful. in a canon au he’s just grateful that your alive. he thinks of you as his peace, so when he comes home he literally just goes next to you.

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲- do they have secrets to hide?

i don’t really think he has secrets to hide. most things he would just say upfront what he did or something that happened.

he would lie about petty things like, using your shampoo or using jewelry

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲- do they get jealous easily?

yk hes not really the jealous type but if he sees a guy being overly friendly he kinda just does the cough thing, or just shows up behind you when you don’t notice that just scares the guys away.

at home he’ll get pouty about it so please kiss him

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬- are they a good kisser?

yes lordddd. he gives the best soft kisses in the world. when your on your computer all day and he’s luring you to the bed to sleep his kisses will be airy and light, instantly filling your stomach with butterflies.

jean also kinda lightly holds your jaw up because just so he can go in deeper.

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧- how did they confess their love?

jean confessed his love either through a text message or one of his friends telling you (most likely connie).

the text would say “hey i think our dates went pretty well...” yad yada something like that.

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞- do they want to get married?

yes ofc. jean i feel takes marriage seriously and if he feels like you’re the right person he will be on his knee with a ring.

he wants to start a family and have a mini jean (daughter tho, i think he’s a daughter dad) to take care of.

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬- what nicknames do they call you?

he uses “baby, babe, sometimes love”.

he doesn’t go overboard with them like honey bunches of oats sour cream milkshake with two shots of vanilla sweetener frothed and whipped at 90° baby bubs. no ❤️. but he kinda just uses simple ones

he loves when you call him “pretty boy, or jeanie”. for some reason it just makes his heart go baboom

𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝟗- what are they like when in love?

he kinda looks like he’s in a daze. if your talking about something passionate he has that really dopey look on his face. (i hope you guys know what i’m talking about).

𝐏𝐃𝐀- are they upfront about their relationship?

he is for the most part. holding hands he would do. he loves when you like link arms together while getting groceries or just on a walk in the park.

the only time i think he wouldn’t care of PDA is like overly affectionate stuff like kissing in public, yk the home things.

he brags about you a lot. even for the littlest things. he talks about your job and accomplishments to sasha and connie the most and they just listen.

𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐤- beneficial random ability

very good at peeling fruit/veggies without hurting himself. like no skin nothing.

he’s also think he is a history nerd don’t @ me. will help with world history homework every time you ask him.

𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞- how romantic are they?

jean is very romantic, like romeo juliet type. he will kiss your hand randomly sometimes when you walk together.

he will be the type to send you a random message once every two weeks like

“hi y/n ilysm i hope you have a great day i’m just thinking about you and how much i love you”

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭- are they helping you each your dreams?

ofc he is da fuck. he will do anything just to help you out. need help with homework he’s got you. need advice with something, got you.

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥- do they try new things in the relationship?

he would be a little cautious with trying new things like a new relationship dynamic, food, or some new activity, but in the end jean will bite and do it just for you.

if you wanted him to do a stupid tiktok he would do it and surprisingly enjoy it. if you asked him to go on a hike with you he’ll complain for a little bit but he will go on the 20 mile hike even though he will not last for 5 minutes. (just cause he has long legs doesn’t mean he wants to walk for that long)

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠- how well do they know their s/o?

he knows you more than you know yourself, and he rubs it in your face 24/7. he literally knows the exact time you blink. he’s very observant so that’s probably why.

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞- how important is their relationship to them?

it’s very important to him. even though jean is a hopeless romantic he still had that weird feeling in his heart where he felt he didn’t deserve love

he felt that all the people he’s cared about have left somehow, either death, betraying his trust, or just simply leaving. so when you showed up in his life you would leave him or not be able to stick around like all the other people he cared about.

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝- random hc :3

after a long day jean wants to be laying on top of you, head in your lap, legs dangling off you tiny couch, while you guys watch the food network, more likely the great baking championship

he mumbles into your stomach about how the contestants could do better and about how that one contestant is going to win just because he has ✨the it factor✨he eventually does fall asleep cause of the long day he’s had but doesn’t really mind it.

𝐱𝐨𝐱𝐨- are they affectionate? hugs and kisses?

very affectionate, very domestic imo.

if your cooking in the kitchen or just standing doing something, he will drape his arms over your body and start to feel you up.

when he’s driving he will keep one hand on your leg and tap his fingers on your knee.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠- how well do they cope when their s/o is away?

not very well. he will call you everyday and night and text you throughout the day. even if it’s something stupid like “i saw a dog walking and he had his tongue out”. like why tf is that important.

but he just misses you being there and you talking to him that’s all. give the horse giraffe man some attention when you come home or call.

𝐳𝐞𝐚𝐥- will they go to great lengths for their s/o?

yes idrk what he would do in modern au but he would do it.

canonverse 100%. he would do anything to make sure you’re safe out there in the walls. he would send you supplies and love letters of he was out with corps so you knew he still cared

[seijorhi]

💕.

i know i’ve been kind of absent for a while on here the past few weeks and i am sorry for that, but i’ve been thinking that it’s just time for me to start over, like totally start over.

new blog, new pseud, new everything.

i don’t really know how to explain it but lately writing and i guess running this blog has felt more like an obligation than something i actually enjoy and i don’t like that. writing’s always been something i love but now there’s always this pressure to please people (which i’ll admit is mostly just my self-consciousness going into overdrive) and be funny and relatable and always be churning out content and keeping up interactions. most of the asks i have these days are just people demanding follow ups for fics that i have no intention of ever writing. 

the reason i’ve been sort of staying away in between fics is because i felt guilty over posting when i wasn’t actually giving content out. and idk i feel like my stories are flopping lately (again, probably just a me thing), interactions are down and posting’s become something that ends up stressing me out more than it should.

plus there’s some different content i wanna explore that’s outside of this little niche and i think a fresh start and a new blog is the way to do that.

i’m gonna leave seijorhi up, i won’t delete any of my fics or anything like that but i think it’s time to move on. 

i do wanna thank you guys who’ve stuck around for so long, and my lovely anons - you guys always make me smile and you’re absolutely wonderful! at this stage i’m not gonna share the new blog, but who knows, maybe you’ll recognise the writing.

anyway, sorry for rambling (promise it’s the last time) i love you guys and thanks for all the support <33

[theasstour]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟕.𝟓𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐧

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reblogged and sent me an ask after last chapter ❣️ I might not have gotten through all the asks yet, but know that I see all of you and I appreciate you more than I will ever find the right words to articulate 🌟 Thank you for the kind words and for reminding me of how fun it is to post my stories on here! Love you sm sm sm 🥰

Tuesday, 4 November 2017

One of the worst things Y/N knew of was seeing someone she cared about go through something troubling. If she knew them well enough, it would be written out on their face and in their gestures, making it so that she could not ever look past it and pretend everything was alright. Her ability to read people, to understand their wants and to see when something was off, was something she had crafted over many years of being a people pleaser. Now, it came naturally to her to study a person’s way of acting, talking, being, and then make them happy accordingly.

She realised when she grew older that the reason she did this was so people would look past her body and like her for who she actually was. She hated herself sometimes for still giving in to this need to please people all the time. She hated the things it had made her do in the past, how she had bent herself over backwards for people who did not, and would never, give a single shit about her. Though she felt at home in her body, she felt content in it, these tendencies to constantly make up for how she looked, to make light of it or make people feel comfortable around her, still hung around. With absolutely everything she was, Y/N hated that part of herself. She did not have to make up for anything. What did she have to apologise for? For existing? It did not make sense to her, but it had made sense to those that bullied her in school and those skinny people whose worst fear was becoming fat. Y/N’s worst fear, because of this, was not being liked. She realised how it all connected now.

Y/N realised how this need to please people came into play as she was sitting in a seminar room with Hayden, Chloe, Thian, Annalise, and three others from the International Society that Annalise often went to. Annalise was whispering in Dutch to the other Dutch girl she had met, while the rest of the room was relatively silent. Hayden had put on some music to lighten the mood, but it was evident that they were unsatisfied and sad. They were eight people; a single game of Uno was being played in a room that had been made so that at least 20 people would show up. Hayden had bought five decks of Uno, only for the one they brought with them to London to be the one the group ended up using. Their eyes drifted to the door every so often, silently begging for anyone else to show up to what looked to be a disastrous start to their Uno Society.

After two hours, they had to get out of the seminar room and go back home. As they were cleaning up, Y/N walked over to Hayden and helped them put their Uno decks and everything else they brought, back in their bag.

“More people will show up next time,” Y/N assured them.

“You’re just saying that.”

��No, I genuinely think more people will show up at one point.”

Hayden smiled at Y/N, though it did not reach their eyes. “If we don’t have at least 15 people by the third meeting, this won’t be considered a society by Helmond standards and we won’t be allowed to meet on campus grounds.”

Y/N felt a small tinge of panic at that. This was not usually the society people would jump to be part of, it would take a little while for people to want to show up to an Uno Society on a Tuesday every fortnight.

“We can hope more people will come, but I doubt they will,” Hayden said.

“There aren’t a lot of people our age who play Uno, though,” Chloe said as Hayden and Y/N made their way to the door.

Y/N furrowed her brows at Chloe’s comment, but did not say a word.

“No, but I love Uno, and it’s a very social game. It’ll be fun if a lot of people show up, you know?” Hayden said, closing the door behind them before they walked down the corridor for the exit.

“Obviously, people just don’t know what they’re missing,” Thian chimed in, showing off his usually wide, happy beam. “It’s a great idea, Hay.”

“Really? It’s not bound to flop?” Hayden asked, scrunching up their nose as if they could not quite believe what Thian was saying.

“Of course not,” Annalise said.

“It’s a nice break from all the assignments,” Y/N said.

“By the way, speaking of assignments,” Chloe groaned. “Y/N, have you started on the Othello presentation yet?”

“You haven’t had the presentation yet?” Thian asked.

“No, different Introduction to English Studies seminar groups have presentations at different dates,” Chloe said. “Since Y/N and I are seminar group E, we have it last. Monday, 4th of December.”

“That’s still a while away, though,” Hayden pointed out. “You still got a month.”

“Yeah, but the presentation’s 40% of the final grade. I know I’ll ace the essay, but we only get to have a five-minute presentation on Othello.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to talk about how Othello’s a sexist play in just five minutes?”

“Easy,” Thian said. “You talk about how it’s a sexist play for just five minutes. You love to talk, it’ll be easy peasy.”

“I love to gossip, this is entirely different,” Chloe complained.

“Not really,” Y/N said, cocking her head a little to the side as the group rounded a corner. “You’re essentially just gonna gossip about Othello and what’s wrong with him and the way Shakespeare wrote the play.”

Chloe stared at Y/N for a few seconds, pursing her lips as she thought. A grin spread out across her lips and she nudged Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re right.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Annalise smiled.

“And by the time that happens, the Uno society will be history,” Hayden mumbled, making Thian pout his bottom lip and wrap an arm around Hayden’s shoulders. They all made their way back to Dinwiddy, Lancaster Complex, and Fleming Hall, three of the seven different campus accommodations. Dinwiddy was definitely of a bit better standard than Lancaster and Fleming, but Y/N was sure that, had she decided to live on campus, she would have gone for either Lancaster or Fleming like Annalise, Thian, and Hayden. She said goodbye to all of them and went on her way, walking back to Haggerston while talking to her parents on the phone. They always insisted she call them if she walked out alone at night, no matter how many people were around.

The shops she strolled by were starting to put up Christmas decorations and sales, making Y/N long for holiday. She just wanted a few days off uni. Though it was only the first year, the amount of work they were getting was ridiculous, and Y/N felt like she either spent most of her time in the library with her Literature gang, or at a café with Nathan, doing uni work. The fact that Christmas lights and decorations were already making an appearance, gave her some hope.

Getting to Orsman Road was no problem, and Y/N hung up with her parents when she reached the flat building. The mere thought of her bed made her knees buckle, she could not wait to be snuggled up in a blanket and watching the newest true crime series on Netflix. Once inside, she got her shoes and outwear off, then walked straight for the kitchen. She halted.

In a pair of worn-out black rugby shorts and a black hoodie, Harry stood pouring water into the kettle. The muscles in his legs flexed and unflexed as he moved, making it impossible to look away from his thighs. Y/N could not find the right words to express just how much she hated those tiny shorts. It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Except he didn’t. He was very much just trying to wear something comfortable at home and Y/N was ogling him. He looked up as she entered.

“Hi,” Y/N said, walking over to the fridge where she kept her oat and banana milk.

“Hi,” Harry answered, watching her as she walked before putting the kettle on. “Been out shagging old men?”

Y/N blinked a few times before looking over at Harry as he put a teabag into his mug. “You’re very obsessed with my sex life.”

“I’m just nosy.”

Y/N sighed, knowing this was true from experience, and went back to getting her milk out of the fridge. “No, I was at a society meeting. The first one, actually.”

“Oh?” She could see in her peripheral vision that he turned around to watch her. “What kind of society?”

“Uno.”

Silence settled in the kitchen, and Y/N could hear Nathan and Mason in the living room next door playing something on the PlayStation. Y/N could feel Harry continue to just look at her as she poured herself a glass of the oat and banana milk. It was not until the milk was back in the fridge and Y/N met his eyes, that Harry spoke again.

“Uno?”

“Like the card game.”

“That’s… a niche interest.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And you’re being judgemental.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide. “No, no, no! I-“ He stopped himself, taking a grip of the kettle and quickly pouring himself a cuppa before meeting Y/N’s eyes again, something frantic shining within his own. “It’s just a very specific interest and society.”

She raised one of her shoulders. “Which is what makes it so amazing.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Harry said quickly, gesturing at her with his hand as if he completely agreed. Y/N wanted to laugh at how fast he was talking, as if he was desperate for her to understand that he was not being judgemental. “How was it?”

“Barely anyone showed up,” Y/N explained, sipping her milk.

Harry frowned. “Really?”

“Yeah, and at least 15 people total have to show up for it to be considered a society, or else Hayden, my course mate, can’t continue hosting on campus grounds.” Y/N sighed, looking at the ground. “Basically, if Hayden doesn’t find, like, twelve more people to join within the next two times, we won’t have a society any longer.”

Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but just then, the sound of quick footsteps could be heard, and then Nathan’s face appeared in the doorway. A grin spread out on his face as he met Y/N’s eyes.

“Thought I heard you come in!” he exclaimed. “We’re playing GTA, wanna come drive some people over?”

Y/N smiled at that, scrunching up her nose. “As appealing as that sounds, I’m gonna have to decline.”

Nathan pouted his lips and Harry stood watching quietly. “Why?” Nathan asked.

“Have an essay that I need to finish.”

Nathan sighed heavily. “Fine. Guess I’ll let you write that bloody essay.”

“Excuse you? ‘Let me’?” Y/N rolled her eyes and Nathan laughed. She gave him and then Harry a smile, making her way out of the kitchen.

“Have a good night,” she heard Harry say as she walked through the doorway. She gave him another smile before walking up the stairs and to her room. She quickly got out of her clothes and into loungewear, taking all her make-up off and finding a fluffy blanket she could sit under in bed as she started writing her Introduction to English Studies essay. She could hear the boys shouting and playing downstairs and drowned it out by putting her earbuds in and shutting them out.

She ended up reading academic articles and writing down an essay plan until she felt her eyelids get heavy a few hours later. Putting her laptop away and finishing her oat and banana milk, Y/N took her contacts off and started getting ready for bed. The door to the room beside hers opened and closed, she could hear Harry rummaging in his room, though the sound was not disturbing in any way. The only disturbing thing about it was the fact that it was Harry, but Y/N was learning to accept that. It had only taken her two months, but she was coming to terms with the fact that Harry Styles, an ex-good friend of hers and person she had sex with once, was living and sleeping in the room right next to hers.

Friday, 17 November 2017

The pizza at Domino’s was absolutely amazing, but working for them was anything but. This was only Y/N’s first shift, and she was already dreading her next. Not only would she be bringing home with her the memories of a horrible first day on her new job, but she would also be bringing the smell of greasy pizza. She would have to do a deep clean in the shower before going to bed, she was not rubbing that smell onto her bedsheets.

With some experience working for Pizza Express before, Y/N was already well-versed working for a pizza chain. Pizza Express had been her job from 15 until she moved off to uni at 19, which she knew was what must have given her this new job at Domino’s rather quickly. As much experience as she had working at Pizza Express serving people, she had never been the one to drive around delivering pizzas. After all, she had not gotten her license until sometime last year, so it had never been a possibility. However, in the job description for this position at Domino’s, it had clearly stated that Y/N would be working mostly as a delivery driver, something that sounded chill at first, until she realised she would have to go deliver pizza to people that would be anything but friendly. Or maybe a little too friendly. Because of her inexperience in this particular field of the job, she had another employer join her for her first shift.

Isla was very quiet, maybe even a little too quiet for Y/N’s taste. She would mostly just stare out the window, sometimes chime in to help Y/N pick a quicker route, or help her make out how much she owed the customer if they paid a few quid too many. Other than that, Isla did not really offer much conversation wise. Even when the two of them picked up the pizzas for their first drive, the first time they spent together, Isla did not say much.

“Have you worked here long?” Y/N asked, giving Isla a smile so she would know that she was actually asking out of curiosity and not because she felt obliged to.

“A year.”

Y/N nodded as she sat down behind the wheel, Isla sitting down in the passenger seat. “I worked in Pizza Express at home in Nottingham before I moved here. Dunno why, I’ve always preferred Domino’s to Pizza Express. Though, Zizzi is top tier.”

Isla only nodded slightly.

Y/N had waited for a response, but realising she would not be getting one, she started the Domino’s car and started driving in the direction out of the parking spot on the street beside the tiny restaurant on Homefield Street. Y/N almost drove right into the Domino’s mopeds that all stood on the spot in front of the car. She just knew that at one point, she would be driving one of those. She followed the instructions on the GPS, up Hoxton Street, in the direction of Lavender Grove. Without any radio on, the car was very quiet. Too quiet. It made Y/N break out in sweat.

“Do you drive around with deliveries often?” Y/N asked.

Isla shook her head. “No.”

Y/N whipped her head back in the direction of the street in front of her, trying to produce spit so she could nervously swallow. Her mouth was too dry. “You work by the till then?”

“Mostly.”

Y/N smiled. “That’s the best place to work, isn’t it? Don’t have to drive around, don’t have to actually make the food.”

Isla gave a feeble smile. “I suppose.”

God, all Y/N wanted as an okay day. All she wanted was for one single day to be alright.

Isla would twine a single piece of her brown, bushy hair around her finger sometimes, then put it behind her ear, only to go back to fidgeting with it. Y/N was unsure if she was nervous to be in a car with someone she did not know, or if she was just deep in thought. Y/N wanted to get to know Isla, to make a friend at her new workplace, but she did not want to harass Isla if it meant it would make her uncomfortable. It was clear that she did not like being this close to Y/N considering the two had never met before and would now be spending a good six hours together. Therefore, to not push away what she hoped to be a future mate, she only made occasional conversation and then left Isla mostly to herself. She could sense that was what her companion wanted most of all.

In a particularly dodgy part of Lea Bridge, Y/N was delivering three pizzas to what she knew even before knocking on the door, would be to a rather creepy encounter. The man that opened the door was bald with glassy eyes and a blue tee shirt tucked into his grey joggers. At the sight of Y/N, he grinned.

“Three pepperonis?” she asked, wondering if this man just really loved pepperoni pizzas or if he was hosting a party.

“That’s me, yeah.”

“Alright.” Y/N handed him the three pizzas just as another man emerged from behind him, and it was then that Y/N noticed the incredible stench of alcohol and cigarettes. Some 80s rock was playing from a stereo and there did not seem to be much light on inside the flat. Y/N suddenly felt very sick.

“You pre-paid,” she stated, more to reassure herself that she could just leave than to make them aware that she knew they did not have to go get any money to pay her. “Have a nice night.”

“Wouldn’t be nice if you didn’t stick around,” the bald one holding the pizzas said.

“Yeah, why don’t you come inside? Have a bite with us?” the other one offered. “You look like a hard-working girl, why don’t you take a few minutes off with us?”

Y/N could feel her heart begin to beat faster, her hands begin to sweat. “No, I have to get back to work,” she said, giving them a smile before walking off.

“Wait, we didn’t give you a tip!”

“Come back, love!”

Y/N tuned them out as she walked down the stairs, keeping an eye over her shoulder and her ears on alert as she made her way back to the car. Isla was sat on her phone when Y/N sat back down in the driver’s seat, putting her seatbelt on a little too fast and gripping the steering wheel harder than she had previously. She just wanted to get away from those men, she just wanted that shift to be over.

“You okay?” Isla asked. The first question she ever asked Y/N. First time she ever took initiative to start a conversation. Y/N really appreciated it in that moment.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, sighing heavily. “Just hate men.”

Isla must have understood what Y/N was talking about because she nodded, looking straight ahead at the road in front of them. “I’m sorry you met the worst type of customers on your first night.”

“Had to meet them at one point, though,” Y/N said.

“You shouldn’t have to meet them at all.”

Y/N felt that statement reverberate through the car, lay in the air between them for quite some time after it was said. She could not stop thinking about it as she drove to the next destination, feeling disgusted and angry. Had she stayed there a second longer, she would have had to resist the urge to knee them both in the space between their legs. This was just one of the stupid encounters that night, though the rest were more so on the scale of weird than disgusting. Like a man that was clearly high thanking Y/N for his frozen milk when he had ordered three Ben and Jerry’s, or a woman with her hair a mess, make-up completely destroyed, and just her dress robes on, snatching the pizza out of Y/N’s hand before hurrying back inside. It was a strange few hours, and as she drove the car back to Domino’s Homefield Street, Y/N felt absolutely drained of energy.

Walking home after her shift at 3:30am was next to torture, she just wanted to be in bed, cosy underneath the covers, and forget about the fact that she was working tomorrow night as well. Though the Hoxton Street was washed in the yellow lights from the streetlamps and the occasional car driving by, it was anything but empty. Drunk people were walking home from pubs, while others, like her, walked home from another nightshift, and some were just out for a night stroll. She walked without listening to music, not feeling comfortable with not being completely aware of her surroundings when it was dark out. Besides, she was so tired as well, listening to music would probably put her to sleep.

Orsman Road was completely deserted, only a few people walking home from The Stag’s Head passed her smelling of beer and cigarettes. This street was darker, smaller, and less busy than Hoxton Street, so Y/N opted to walk in the middle of the road instead of in the shadows. She felt less vulnerable that way. As she reached the flat building, she got her keys out of her purse and went to unlock the door.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

She jumped, keys falling onto the asphalt. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Harry standing there with the smuggest, most infuriating look on his face. God, how she wanted to slap him until his teeth fell out. While she contemplated how to physically hurt him, Harry bent down, picked up Y/N’s keys, and put them back in her hand.

“Don’t lose those,” he said. “50 quid to get a new pair.”

Y/N only narrowed her eyes, unlocking the door for them both and striding on to the next floor. After opening the door to the flat, she got her shoes off, and walked straight for the kitchen. She needed strawberries, especially after the shift she just had. The door closed behind Harry and she heard him lock it before taking his shoes and jacket off, too. As she turned around after closing the fridge door, Harry stood by the kettle, filling it up with water.

“Didn’t know you worked at Domino’s,” he said, looking over at her briefly, nodding at her black Domino’s fleece jacket before turning his attention back to the kettle.

“Just started.”

“How’re you finding it?” he asked.

Y/N sighed, leaning her hip against the counter. “Considering this was my first shift and I have to show up again to work another nightshift tomorrow…” She pursed her lips as if deep in thought. “I’d say shite.”

Harry laughed, stopping the tap. “Tea?”

“No, I bought myself some banana and oat milk from M&S earlier, I’ll just have that. Thank you, though.” She gestured at what she had placed on the counter while he was busy with the kettle.

Harry watched her as she got herself a glass for the milk. “Can’t for the life of me remember you being a Tory.”

Y/N laughed. “Oh, you don’t remember me hating the poor?” she said, putting on a posh accent, Harry could not hold back his own laughter. “Quite a big part of my personality, don’t know how you missed it. Now-“ She put the milk back in the fridge. “-If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go spend five weeks at my £1.000.000 18 century holiday house in Surrey.”

Harry’s laughter echoed through the kitchen as he put the kettle on, shaking his head at her. “No, but how’d you like your first shift? Anything like Pizza Express?”

Why the fuck did he remember that? Why did he have to remember everything? Bloody hell…

“Not for me. There were just a lot of creepy men, and some very dodgy neighbourhoods. I’m sure that’s not all there is to the job as a delivery driver, I’m sure I was just unlucky my first time, but I can’t really afford to quit unless I have a backup.”

Harry frowned at that. “If you don’t like it and you feel unsafe, you don’t have to continue doing it.”

She nodded her head. “No, I know, but it’s still the only job I could find and that I could get at the moment. I’ll apply to others later.”

Harry’s frown deepened, crossing his arms over his black, tee-shirt covered chest. No tattoos on display. She wondered why he only had tattoos on his chest and torso.

“Yeah, alright…” he said, voice a little darker than before. “But if you feel unsafe-“

“-Harry, I practiced capoeira when I was younger, remember?”

At that, as if he was slowly unveiling a memory he had not thought about in a little too long, Harry smiled. A small, fond smile that Y/N remembered from a previous life; a life with far less troubles, far less complications than this one.

“Of course I do.”

Not “yes”. Not just “I do”. “Of course”. He had said “of course”, as if remembering was a privilege. As if not remembering would be the strangest thing in the world. Y/N hated that this man did not forget a single thing. Never had, never would.

“Well,” she said, trying to act normal after that. “Well, I can hold my own.”

“Good to know,” Harry smiled, getting a teabag from his cupboard. As he turned his body and face away from her, she saw something glisten in the lights of the kitchen. Two earrings. Two gold earrings right next to one another. In his ear. Y/N would never admit to it out loud, the sight made her mouth salivate. “But I still think you should quit if you don’t like your work.”

Y/N opened the strawberry container and took one out, taking a bite. She needed to look away from Harry, away from his two earrings, and away from him because he was making some points. She knew where Harry was coming from, she really did, but she could not go on living in London, using money every single day, and not have an income. Until something better came along, this would be her job. “How’s the pub?”

“Alright,” Harry said, pouring hot water into his mug. “I’m having my last shift there December 15th.”

Y/N blinked. “You’re quitting?”

“Yeah, I’m starting a new job in January.”

She raised her eyebrows, meeting his gaze again. “Okay, good for you. What one?”

“Tattoo artist.”

He had to be fucking kidding at this point. Y/N had to do everything to keep her eye from twitching.

“Just got my tattoo license, so I’m ready to go come January.”

Y/N did not want to admit it. She could not admit it. She physically could not. But… everything about Harry… everything he did, everything he said… It all hit different. And it did not help that Y/N, who loved tattoos, getting them, having them on her body, and seeing them on someone else’s, was now made aware that Harry could legally give people tattoos. He was going to become a tattoo artist in January. Y/N wanted to eat chalk.

Harry just looked at her, studying her face. “You okay?”

She swallowed the strawberry bite she had just taken. “Fantastic.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Did you draw your own tattoos then?”

For the second time that night, Y/N was witness to Harry’s smug smile. He raised his cuppa, cocking his head a little to the side as he said, “You’ve seen my tattoos?”

Y/N wanted to die.

“You’ve been sneaking into my room to watch me sleep, that it?” Harry asked. “You’ve probably seen the tattoo I have by my crotch then, too-“

“-Oi!” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Piss off. I saw them when you were wearing that low-neck top at Footprint.”

Harry took a sip of his tea. “If you say so.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and Harry laughed.

“It’s jokes, Y/N.”

“Good. I’m genuinely scared you think I fancy you.”

Harry smiled. “You mean you don’t? Really?”

She took a hold of her strawberries and milk. “Goodnight, wanker.”

“I’m a dreamboat, what about this-“ Harry gestured at himself, flexing his arm muscles that weren’t really there. “-Doesn’t give you the fanny flutters?”

“You’re disgusting.”

Harry laughed.

“I was just interested to know about your job as a tattoo artist ‘cause I love tattoos,” Y/N explained.

Harry’s eyes travelled down to Y/N’s hand where the ‘M’ was tattooed, it lingered there for a moment too long. For some unknown reason, a tingle started up in Y/N’s thumb, making its way up her arm and to her breasts, then her stomach. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to her ribs where he must have seen her ‘saudade’ tattoo. Though it was not visible right then, it seemed as if Harry was seeing it all the same, sensing it somehow. At last, his eyes met hers, and Y/N felt something in her throat stop working. The tingle that had laid in her stomach just seconds earlier exploded, slithering all throughout her body and making her hyper aware of how knowledgeable Harry was of the tattoos on her body; of her. He must have paid more attention to her than she thought he had. Something about that made it hard to breathe. Bloody hell, she hated how fucking fit he was. She hated how she reacted to his glance, to his attention.

“I can tell,” he said, voice a tinge darker than before.

She was surely about to explode. Blinking a few times, she held her strawberries up, nodding her head to Harry in a silent goodbye, then made her way towards the door.

“Oh, Y/N,” Harry said, making her look over her shoulder at him. “Do you want some Ginger Nuts? I’m having some with my tea-“

“-No thanks. Goodnight.” Y/N walked straight out of the door and to her room, needing to stick her head out her window to cool down in the Regent’s Canal breeze before sitting down in her bed again. How could he be considerate, respectful, smart, pretty, and sexy at the same time? Some otherworldly powers had truly been at work these last few years to make Harry Styles into everything Y/N was attracted to.

She did not even want him as a boyfriend, she never had, there had never been any romantic feelings between them before and there never would be, but he was just so… so… frustrating. In every single sense of the word. He was just… very attractive. Very pleasing to look at. Everything that got to Y/N. And Y/N wanted to scream at Harry for making it so hard to ignore him, and at herself for falling for it.

Wednesday, 29 November 2017

Y/N was originally going to travel home to Nottingham that Friday so she could stay home that weekend. She had not been home since September, and though they only had two weeks of uni left before Christmas break, she wanted to go home this weekend. She missed her parents terribly and wanted to see them so badly, she could simply not wait until Christmas. So, because it was the last Wednesday of the month, Y/N travelled back up to Nottingham.

Every last Wednesday of every month, Davi would invite all of his Brazilian family who had settled in Nottingham after he had, as well as Lottie’s parents, over for feijoada. Brazil has many region-specific dishes, yet the one that best translates into a nationwide dish is the beloved feijoada. The name stems from the word feijão, which is Portuguese for bean, and also the key ingredient of feijoada, which is essentially a bean stew mixed with beef and pork. Though, depending on what region of Brazil you are in, you will find different ingredients added to the feijoada.

In Rio de Janeiro and Minas Gerais, feijoada is almost always cooked with black beans, while in Bahia, red or brown beans are preferred. In Bahia and Sergipe, they also usually add extra vegetables to the feijoada such as plantain, kale, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and pumpkin. However, in the rest of Brazil, feijoada is simply beans and meat with no additional vegetables. It is served with white rice, shredded kale with bits of fried bacon, crispy pork crackling, and slices of oranges that are meant to aid the digestion of the heavy meal. Which is what Y/N had grown up eating.

Typically, it is served at noon on Wednesdays and Saturdays, as this hearty meal is a thick mixture that will have you full in no time. The only activity Y/N would recommend after it, is bed and a good book. Maybe even a little nap. Their big family often used to eat it during the weekend as it meant more time spent with the family, more time spent chatting and being social, but Davi who worked in a bakery, had often worked Saturday and Sunday afternoons, meaning that it would fit best for the family to keep the tradition of hosting the meal on Wednesdays at Davi and Lottie’s house. Which was why Y/N was on her way home that Wednesday at the end of November.

Closing Vidas Secas by Graciliano Ramos that she had just been reading, Y/N got up from her seat to get off the train. Graciliano Ramos was Y/N’s favourite writer of all time. Though she loved English Literature and especially loved studying it, she always found his works to be better than most. He was the only modernist writer she could stand. São Bernardo was her favourite of his novels. A story about a man who, having been born poor, gets rich using any ruthless means he can and ends up utterly alone. It had stuck with Y/N her entire life. The main character’s ability to love others, his selfishness, and arrogance, make up one of the most complex characters of world literature, in Y/N’s opinion.

In the last chapter of São Bernardo when Paulo Honório reflects on his life alone at night, Y/N found some of the best few pages she had ever read. The closing words ‘I ruined my life stupidly’ express the agony of a man whom Y/N learned to despise throughout the book, but who, thanks to the mastery of the author, leads us with him through his tragic life choices towards self-destruction. Y/N got goosebumps just thinking about it.

Stepping off the train with her small bag and book under her arm, Y/N walked straight for the train station exit. She recognised her mother’s brown hair in a bun at the top of her head, a pair of colourful flare trousers on along with a white buffer jacket. Lottie jumped up and down at the sight of Y/N and ran for her daughter, throwing her arms around her in a tight embrace.

“My baby,” she said, kissing Y/N’s cheeks and forehead. “Oh, my Y/N.”

Y/N hugged her mother back, burying her face in her mother’s neck. She did not care that she could hear Vidas Secas fall into the tiled floor or that her bag would get dirty where it lay, all she cared about was her mother’s embrace and the smell of home around her. She was fluent in two languages, yet Y/N could not find a word that could quite capture how happy she was to be home just now.

“Okay, my dove,” Lotte said, taking Y/N’s bag off the floor. Y/N bent down and picked up her book, bringing it to her chest. “Let’s go home.”

The two of them walked out to the car park, and Lottie quickly started driving them in the direction of Y/N’s childhood home. The familiar ride and the familiar city outside the car windows made her relax, sinking far into the seat until she felt enveloped in safeness and contentment. It didn’t take them long to reach the semi-detached brick house, all their family members’ cars parked out front and visible in the windows overlooking the street. Y/N took her own bag this time, and her mother led the way up the stairs to the house so she could open the door for her.

There was no time for Y/N to go upstairs with her bag and book, because she was bombarded with hugs and kisses the second she stepped inside. Her grandfather, avô, her grandmother, avó, her papai’s two sisters and her aunties, tia Gilma and tia Lara, their husbands and her uncles, tio Jaren and uncle Finnley – who was British and had met Lara after she moved here -, and her seven cousins, or primos. They all came rushing to her, with her British grandmother and grandfather grinning and waiting for her to be done hugging and kissing everyone. Being with them and smelling feijoada everywhere, made Y/N almost tear up. Blimey, ever since moving away to University, she had become so incredibly sappy.

“Amorinzho!” came like a scream from the kitchen. Davi came out into the foyer with his apron still on and the biggest grin on his face. He threw his arms around Y/N. “Eu tenho saudade de você.”

She had missed him, too. So much. She felt safer, more at ease, almost more herself now that she was reunited with her parents close.

So, she told him that as she whispered, “Eu também senti sua falta,” back. Her papai hugged her a little tighter at that, grinning at her with tears in his eyes as he squeezed her shoulders.

“Y/N!” avó shouted from where she now sat in the living room, her grey hair in a long braid down her back and a big knitted cardigan wrapped tightly around her small frame. “Venha comer!”

“I’ll come eat in a second,” Y/N said. “I just need to put my bag in my room.”

“I’ll do that for you, my sausage,” Y/N’s grandfather said, stroking her cheek before he bent down and brought the bag with him up the stairs to her room. Since her mother had been an only child, her parents, Y/N’s grandparents, had always been very caring and constantly present as Y/N and Marcela had been their only grandchildren. Not that her avós had not been present, because they really had, her entire family had, but her grandparents’ life had no meaning if it were not for Lottie, Y/N and Marcela.

Y/N walked past all her family and to the kitchen where her papai stood making her a plate of feijoada. He handed it to her and she smiled at him before helping herself to some rice. Just then, Lottie walked into the kitchen as well, hugging Y/N from behind before she walked over to make her daughter something to drink. Silence stretched out in the kitchen as conversation started back up again in the living room, everyone talking about everything and nothing, in English and Portuguese. But, something that was unusual for her parents, they did not say a single thing. Though this might not be unusual for some, it was extremely unusual for someone who came from a generally very talkative family.

“Charlotte,” Davi said, looking over at Lottie. “We should…”

“Not yet.”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at her parents. “What?”

“We should tell her.”

“She just got home, Davi,” Lottie reasoned. “We can tell her later. Let her enjoy her feijoada.”

“No, what’s going on?” Y/N asked again, turning her body to face them now.

“No, amorinzha,” Davi said, squeezing Y/N’s shoulder. “Your mother is right; we can talk about it later. It’s not appropriate to do it now.”

“What’s going on? What’re you talking about?” Y/N looked at her papai, then at her mum, both of them sharing a look with one another that Y/N did not understand. Over the years, she had become a master at deciphering what her parents were discussing when they shared looks, though she never managed to quite understand the proper subject of discussion, she could detect the mood. She understood this was more of a serious matter.

“Tell me,” Y/N said, feeling her heart begin to beat a little harder, a little faster, the more time went by without any of them saying anything.

“Fine,” Lottie sighed. “Put your plate down first.”

Y/N did so reluctantly, not taking her eyes off of her parents. If it was serious enough for her mother to want her to put her food down so she would not drop her plate, then Y/N was on the fence if she even wanted to know what was going on or if she wanted to live in blissful ignorance of it.

“Your pai and I have decided to sell the cabin.”

Y/N’s heart stopped beating. Her body felt numb, the chatter in the living room deceased to exist as she just looked at her mother, and then at her papai. Her mum, and then pai. Suddenly, as if slapped with a brick, Y/N’s brain roared to life and her body came as hot as coal. She looked at her mother who had been the one to speak, her mouth falling open and shutting again as she continued to process what she had just been told.

“You’re… you’re going to sell the cabin?” Y/N asked them, just to be completely sure that what she heard was correct.

“Yes,” Davi answered.

“You’re selling the cabin?” She could not believe it.

“Y/N-“

“-You’re selling our Newport cabin? The one in Wales?” she asked again, her voice rising now. They did not have any other cabins, but Y/N just had to know she was not mistaken. They couldn’t… They couldn’t just…

“Y/N, we never go there anymore,” Lottie reasoned. “We want to spend the money we use on the cabin on something else, we don’t know what yet.”

“So, you’re just going to sell the cabin where your daughter was murdered?” Y/N asked, voice filled with so much rage she barely recognised herself when she spoke. “Where Marcela was most likely stabbed? You’re selling that cabin?”

“We’re never there because she was… she was killed…” Davi cleared his throat. “Spending time inside that cabin when we know what happened inside it, does not feel right.”

“No, selling it isn’t right,” Y/N said. “What if there’s more evidence inside? What if there’s somewhere they haven’t looked?”

“Baby, they have cleaned out the cabin and there’s nowhere they haven’t looked. There’s nothing more they can investigate,” Lottie explained. “We don’t want to own that cabin anymore.”

“Kit murdered Marcela in there,” Y/N said. “Her murderous ex-boyfriend is running around somewhere because no one investigated that cabin thoroughly enough.”

“Selling it doesn’t mean they are going to stop investigating Marcela’s case, amorzinho,” Davi pointed out.

“We don’t… We still don’t know if Kit did it,” Lottie mumbled. “It was most likely him, but there could have been someone else who killed Marcela, Y/N.”

“Marcela’s body hasn’t been found, there’s no trace of Kit’s blood or remains on that property. That murderer is on the loose, something inside that cabin can tell us he killed her, I am sure of it.”

“Y/N, Kit hasn’t been seen since the murder either. Maybe he was killed, too,” Lottie said.

“Mum, Kit was a rubbish person, why are you sticking up for him?” Y/N groaned, running her hands over her face.

“We decided, Y/N,” Davi mumbled, rubbing his daughter’s back. “It’s happening.”

That was all Y/N needed to hear. She took her plate in one hand and the glass with water her mother had made her in another, and she walked straight past everyone in the living room and up to her room. She felt like a child stomping past everyone like that, but she just needed to be with her thoughts. There was absolutely no way they were selling that cabin. Not that cabin. Y/N was sure there was evidence in there somewhere, the police and the investigators had just not looked thoroughly enough. That was all. And if they had done a shite job, well… that just meant Y/N had to do it for them. She had to go to that cabin and look for herself once and for all. After all, who else would? It did not seem like anyone cared anymore.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 21th March, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​ 🏛️ @sunflowerstache​ 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh​​ 🏛️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!

[horanghoe]

warm milk & honey - SKZ fic

A/N: I just realised I forgot Han ^ I am screaming

Pairing: OT7/reader

Rating: PG friendly (with a friendly warning of poly / multiple person relationship).

Genre: POLY!SKZ / Fluff / Very slight angst & mentions of bad sleep patterns.

Word Count: 3.6k exactly, my doods

Summary: A restless night, ultimately remedied by your sweet baby man angel boys. Or alternatively: Istg if Jisung makes one more weird noise imma end this man’s whole life no cap, Binnie hold me back -

Back to ~ SKZ Masterlist

Back to ~ Main Masterlist

Special Mentions <3

 @domjaehyun​ for being a yoghurt eating legend that takes a year to respond ASKDJF ILY BICH//

@seowoos​ for inspiring this whole damn thing & helping me feel more comfortable w publishing more niche content models. Even if it’s just cheesy enough for the two of us <3 //

@chocolvte​ for being another OG on this list, n just generally being a sweet bean <3 baby girl ur reactions were the second inspiration to get me INTO SKZ in the first place. ily uwu // 

and lastly, surprise @mikoto-ica-fics​ !! You were the last part of the equation that got me to write smin for these boys. I binged practically all your fics in two nights bby, keep making michellin star fics <3

Tonight wasn’t working out quite as you had expected.

To be honest, it was fucking shit.

Well, the night itself was okay. In terms of activities. An evening in with your boyfriend, Chan.

Just you two versus the world. The poor boy was so tired that honestly, it had only consisted of a walk through the park to grab snacks, and returning to the empty dorm to laze around the whole evening. A Netflix date with some *ahem* late night fun to settle you both into a deep, restful state.

It was brilliant, fantastic. Until it wasn’t.

Until you lay painfully awake in his bed and suffocated in the dark silence and space between you. It wasn’t Chan’s fault; the obnoxious whirring of electronics made your head spin, tiny flashing lights and minute feelings of unease at the cupboard door leaning open; all made it virtually impossible to sleep.

It was too cold. Too hot. You were so comfortable, melted into the mattress. But it was swallowing you and your claustrophobia was starting to make you twitch. Moving off of your angelic boy’s limbs, you shimmied to the cooler side of the bed.

He stirred a little, before settling on turning away, onto his side. Phew. At least you hadn’t woken him. It wasn’t like you were trying to be selfish, but fuck. This was insufferable.

Every time you looked at the clock you were sure it slowed down - balls, at this point it could’ve skipped back an hour and you wouldn’t have batted an eye. Mostly because if they weren’t checking the clock, they were staring dead straight up at the ceiling.

Eh. Ugh. Fuck. I can’t sleep.

That’s all your brain could think. Stuck - monotone and on a never-ending loop.

It seemed like everything you had ever thought was swimming around in your brain like some kind of primordial juice. Feelings and emotions swelling and bloating in your belly until they settled.

And then a car passed outside, and everything started to swell up again.

Chan was on his side, turned away and peacefully gaining some shut-eye. He was only lightly sleeping though, that much you could tell. His body gently lifting, then falling with breath. Like you; he often struggled to sleep deeply, usually not lasting very long when he did manage to.

You were so pissed.

How dare he sleep. And look so good doing it. Even just his bareback looked hot as shit - here you were, a messy, greasy big toe wrestling with your stupid ape brain to shut off the useless brain thoughts, next to this slice of heaven - just, ugh existing so perfectly.

“Oh my god, this is torture.” You cursed quietly into the dead space.

Maybe the frustration was all from hormones?

Nah, fuck that. Feminism and all that jazz. That’s just part of the human condition, babycakes. Happens to the best of us, unfortunately.

No, what it was, was the constant whirring coming from the TV screen and Felix’s PlayStation tower and large monitor. The tiny little flashes, whirrs, huffs from the fan and rotating lights. It was driving you abhorrently insane. FUCK.

“Chan? Channie, baby, are you awake?.” You whispered into the air. His breath faltered a little, stirred mostly by your movement to groan, gruff and flip the duvet off your hot, sticky body. Gentle though you tried to be, it was still enough to wake his fuzzy brain.

“Chan, please. I’m sorry babe but that TV is driving me fucking insane.” Your voice was too alert and frustrated for him not to stir. His heart panged a little at the distress laced in your tone.

“Please, Channie. I’m so sorry…”

He rolled on his back to look at you. Slowly, and with much effort. He groaned softly before wiping his eyes and leaving his arms above his head.

“Hey.” He whispered, warmly smiling.

“Don’t be sorry – can you not sleep again, baby girl?” Chan asked softly, watching you sit stiffly upright. His deep voice made your heart flutter, nodding as he groaned. He smiled despite any resentment you may have allowed him to feel. Resting his warm palm against your rib as he muttered a response - you excused his fumbled words for definition - so tired he was barely able to keep his eyes open.

“You can turn it off, yeah?” Chan sighed.

What he meant was ‘You know how and where to turn it off, without messing up the whole system like last time, right?’. You nodded quickly, squeezing his bicep lightly before slipping from the exposed mattress.

Dashing up to scramble behind the low TV unit and find the one wire to end it all. Your infernal pain that was.

He watched you, letting his eyes rest occasionally. Truth was, you looked so beautiful to him when you were concentrating on something. For example, pulling out the HDMI cord triumphantly. And holding in a small squeal (scream), of relief when the high pitched buzzing cut out with a slight electronic fuzz. He chuckled, not missing your little feet pattering in step with a tiny little victory pump.

“Yes. Fuck. The noise, it’s gone!” Chan chuckled softly, keeping his arm outstretched until you landed beside him. Pulling you toward him, under the covers.

“Yeah, you really got that wire Y/N. Showed it who’s the boss, huh?” His tired enthusiasm outweighed his sarcasm, owning a soft kiss to the cheek as you clambered over the bed, only to flop with a weighted sigh straight down onto his shoulder.

He giggled, smiling with a yawn as he tucked his arm against your ribs, tucking you up against his chest in a bearhug.

You fell asleep quickly; soft breaths and just the presence of Chan's being, enough to satiate the gnawing ache in the back of your brain.

And it was peaceful. Restful. Warm, and so pleasant.

Until it wasn’t.

Turns out tonight wasn’t your night. The clock read 1:28 am – and the boys were due to come home from practice any moment now. To be honest they were pretty late.

Chan had originally had the day off, hence the chance for you to be led here in his arms. But you were starting to think it really hadn’t made that much of a difference.

It wasn’t just the high pitched whirring that had aggravated you, but now the uncomfortable heat radiating from Chan's body. The small whoosh of cool air against your neck at any vehicle that passed by. Or just the evening breeze. You groaned softly, dropping your head back to Chan’s chest with a soft thud, lulling back into a light and unrestful sleep.

Ten minutes or so passed. Waking from a fuzzy dream, you were disorientated. The worst dreams always happened in short little bursts. Like little hellish fever dreams.

The clock now read 1:39 am and the time between minutes was becoming unbearable. Too long to bear . You had to move. Speak. Scream. Cry. Kick. Do something.

Peeling off Chan’s arm, and replacing yourself with a large fluffy pillow, you left your lover to rest. You dread to think that it would be able to replace you, but hey, at least it wouldn’t move like one big fat sweaty ferret, right?

Sigh. Sad times.

You abandoned Chan for the disgustingly bright hallway. Seeking new comforts, from whoever would take you. The boys were home; noises of beings floating down the hall, past Chan’s room.

By the time you had gathered the strength to rise off the bed though – blinking away the stars and excited little lines in your vision and raising enough chi to move your soul, and body upwards off of the bed – an inkling of tiredness was starting to itch into your consciousness.

You ached to be held. Loved.

You weren’t sleepy enough to get back into his bed though. Though; you missed Chan’s body as soon as you had tumbled yourself away from it.

---------

Fetching your favourite fluffy square pillow and putting on one of Chan’s big shirts, you padded out and into the hallway. The door closed behind you with a soft putt, pillow tight against your belly.

The tired but comfortingly loud voices of your other lovers were coming from the kitchen.

You wobbled forward, groaning to yourself as your thighs began to ache. Just from being alive, you guessed. Your thighs tingled your skin into little chilly goosebumps, a shiver sparking down your spine.

Maybe the heat of Chan’s bed wasn’t so bad, you began to consider. Before a voice echoed down to where you were slowly walking from.

“Ya – hold up, I’ll grab my jumper then we can watch that stupid shit-film you were on about earlier?” You heard Jisung shout over the kitchen to the boys gathered on the sofa.

The boys muttered some form of agreement and before you could process it, the firm but soft body of Han Jisung had swung right around the corner and straight into your zombie path.

Being conscious, and not half-dead like you, he was able to stop abruptly in front of you and step back a little. The shock of a body blocking his path was quickly masked with warm love as he cooed at the sight of you.

“Y/n-ieeeeee look at youuuu~” He whispered loudly, wrapping his arms around you to squeeze you firm against his body.

His presence eased you, despite the chaotic energy he may have appeared to have. He was just one big squirrel with muscles. The perfectly-right size to pull you against him, your neck flopping so skin met skin, cheek to shoulder in that white sleeveless shirt of his.

You melted into his caring touch, groaning when he gave a squeeze and actually, not hating how firmly he held you. For a moment, he seemed to be just quietly accepting your unspoken words. Night-long grief expressed in the way you clung to him.

Eventually, he asked the inevitable questions, though.

“Baby, why aren’t you asleep? Hmm, pretty? It’s like, 2 am already!” He exclaimed softly, somewhat conscious of Chan’s sleeping presence down the hall. And your zombie-eardrums.

You couldn’t answer, instead, you let him pull you away so he could peer down at your head against his shoulder. The pillow was a soft barrier between you, though he removed it to place it softly on the floor.

“As cute as you look in Chan’s top right now, baby, this hallway is pretty cold. Gosh damn, your legs are shaking so much. How long have you been standing out here princess? Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?” He squeezed you against him once more - rubbing his warm palms against your trembling, shivering thighs.

As he stood back up you groaned again, reluctant to articulate how badly you just wanted to be softly touched. Not aggressively rubbed. Even if you appreciated the notion, it was cutely awkward. Your expression made him laugh softly, tucking hair behind your ear and placing a kiss on your cheek, head, forehead.

“You okay though? Wanna come sit with us?” You nodded quickly, body flopping into his hold as soon as his arms went to lift you. Your head rested on his shoulder, Jisung’s body dipping to lift you and wrap your knees around his hips. He was such a careful, sweet baby boy.

“Ya – come on you big baby, you. Who do you want to be delivered too for the meantime, huh? I gotta go change out of my gym stuff.”

“Hyunjin-ah... please...” You mumbled airily. Despite how unused your voice was, it was sweet as honey. He smiled, responding with a soft “Sure" before turning back to where he had come from. Heart warmed by the opportunity to care for you, even if for just a moment.

And even though he was a bit sticky – and the thought ‘yuck' registered quickly in your half-conscious brain – you didn’t mind the smell. Or the languid way he carried you.

You nuzzled against his neck, groaning once more as his entrance was announced to the room. A loud “Han Jisung's Special Delivery Service!” was projected, I.N. slipping by with a quick ruffle of your hair before moving to turn down the hall, into his room. The boys looked up at the noise and your entrance into the room, immediately softened by the sight.

You, entirely snuggled against a buoyant Jisung, that held you so carefully against his chest. Messy hair tucked under his chin; your eyes were puffy, sore, and barely open as he came into the centre of the soft-lit room.

“Nawww – cuuuutieeee~” Changbin cooed, Lee Know giggling as Seungmin stepped forward to kiss your cheek, sweetly brushing hairs away from your face. The proximity to Jisung didn’t seem to spook his intimacy.

Your eyes fluttered close from the embrace, Seungmin smiling to himself at his ability to soothe you. Even just a little.

“That’s a funny looking jumper, Ji.” Seungmin quipped, before adding a quick “Hi Y/N.” With a small squeeze of your cheek, before heading toward the kitchen.

“Hyunjin-ah you have a special request delivery here, where shall I put her?” Jisung questioned, approaching the sofa nimbly.

Hyunjin smiled, shuffling a little before holding out his arms, patting his lap.

“Right here~” you heard, before feeling gravity weigh at your back. You got off early, aided by Jisung and Hyunjin’s hands on your hips. Quietly you yawned, turning to a barefaced beautiful boy, smiling at you cutely.

Jisung pecked a kiss on your shoulder before passing, leaving to go sort himself out.

Hyunjin smiled up at you with a coo, pulling you down towards him with his long limbs. With you laying, legs tangled above him he wiggled back so you could lay comfortably on his chest.

He kissed your cheek before tucking your forehead against his chin, your eyes slowly bobbing open and shut as his calm vibe washed over you. Changbin shared some of your weight on the somewhat roomy sofa; kissing your hair softly and curling against you to keep you warm.

The television was on a late-night MC show playing. Though it registered to you as white noise. The boy’s voices over you were soothing, even if they edged a little loud occasionally.

At some point, you had started to drift off again. For the most part, Hyunjin was a gentle giant anyways. So despite his resistance to skinship, your body (and some of the boys), was never left out in terms of body-pillow-comforts.

Meaning, he treated your limbs like a very bony pillow he could encapsulate entirely.

You weren’t sure where the others were. Or what part of the sofa you were even on. You figured the end since the guys had their feet up. But you didn’t mind. It was safe. Here, in their arms. Against their bodies.

Even the bright overhead lights of the kitchen and hallway weren’t enough to stop you lulling into sleep.

At a later point, you awoke again with a startle – Jisung shushing your tired whines with a kiss as he jumped onto the sofa to your left, a little too enthusiastically. Hyunjin moaned like a brat, ultimately having a play fight underneath you until you mustered up a death stare to end all squabbles, ever. Period. Jisung settled, intertwining your fingers on Hyunjin’s belly until your breath softened. Falling into a weak slumber once more.

Once again; your sleep was great. Perfect. Until it wasn’t.

An abrupt jostle of Hyunjin jolting to stop spilling the food he held above your head, was met with an unattractive grunt of pure disgust on your part. Eyes squinted, head wrinkled and body tense, you were once again awake.

“Sorry baby! I didn’t mean to wake you!” Hyunjin whined, too loudly next to your throbbing head. Changbin noticed your tense limbs and pulled you backwards against his chest. This merely caused another squabble to ensue between them - who held the right to hold you, like a fluffy comfort blank.

Suddenly everything was bothering you again.

Their constant jostling and boyish movements were just too much. You pulled up from Changbin. Avoiding the tugging, whining, needy arms and hands from Hyunjin to stand weakly once more.

Frustrated. Tired. And all coupled with a reasonably ugly scowl weeping over your face.

They were so engrossed in their silly little arguments, little kicks, punches and teasing laughter, that they barely even noticed your sluggish movements to get up.

Until you were on your feet. Your body heat sapped from them in a bitter attempt at being sour. Hyunjins hands immediately flew out to steady you. Changbin pouting but ultimately letting you retreat once more.

“Y/Nieeee~ Come baaack, I didn’t mean it. Come lay back down, baby~” Hyunjin whined warily, the other two boys still giggling amongst themselves. You swatted against the tiredness on your face, grumbling before stumbling backwards.

You made it a few steps before you folded over on impact at hitting the kitchen table. The table thudded on impact and the boys winced, watching your face scrunch up in pain immediately.

A new pair of hands caught you this time, stuttering before lean arms caught you.

“Woah! Careful there pretty girl, nearly took the whole bloody table out. You okay?”

Felix's. Soft, caring and most importantly soft voice and calm motions of support waved over you in a way that gave you immediate comfort. You rested your head against his chest as he tugged you up, body slumping into him with an inaudible impact. He giggled, despite your weighted movements, speaking lowly with that deep, tired voice of his.

“Y/N, you silly sausage, are you alright?” He prompted quietly, leaning his head down to capture your whines and huffs of pain.

“Owww, my butt… That hurt~” You groaned, not minding his giggles but sending a puffy glare to the others snickering away on the sofa.

The table (or your idiot bulldozer body), had set a deep ache right into the cheek of your butt. Your hand kneaded it gently before Felix’s hand quickly replaced yours, rubbing and squeezing softly until your face scrunched, the pain subsiding.

“Ouch.” You whispered, peering up at him with a pout. He kissed your nose cutely with a little eruption of giggles, helping you crack a pouty smile.

“Come on, cutie.” He mumbled before grabbing your hand to guide you slowly into the kitchen. “I could kiss it better?” He prompted, ultimately softening at your lack of response. You were so morgue-ish you hadn’t even registered his words. Letting him tug you blindly as your eyes struggled to stay open.

You could barely register his hands, pressing at your waist. Weakly managing to hold on as he lifted you on top of the counter. Squinting, you could see the clock read 2:23 (am) on the cooker. Ugh. What a night.

You’d feel shit in the morning. But that was nearly impossible to think about with the way Felix was holding you right now. Like a baby. Or a puppy. A little ball of fluff.

He kept some form of contact as he moved around you – a hand to the knee or his hip between your legs. Or even lips against your hairline, using the counter space around you to do something. What he was doing, you were tired to even care.

“You know what used to help me Y/N? When I couldn’t sleep at night?” He prompted gently. You shook your head, pulling back with a weak sway

“Warm milk and honey!” He exclaimed quietly. Too cute for his own good. You smiled, and he pulled you against his chest to kiss your cheek and giggle delicately.

“You want some? Then we could try to sleep? You look like you need some shut-eye, baby. Don’t wanna miss out on that beauty sleep! If you want - we can always sleep in – just call in sick? Your boss is honestly so nice, I'm sure she won’t mind. You say you’re always working through lunch breaks anyway?”

Despite his rambling, you just nodded. Tired eyes once again resting as the hum of the radiator, the vibration of his chest eased your brain. Your head tucked so right underneath his chin. His palms folded behind your lower back.

At some point, Changbin had appeared. Sweeping a thumb over your forehead before kissing you sweetly, cheek resting on Felix’s shoulder.

“I love you, princess. Sorry for waking you.” He had whispered against your lips. “Mmm-I-love-you-too-Binnie~” You managed in one tumbling sentence. In fairness, the touch would've probably led you both somewhere (the bedroom), if you weren’t in such a zombie-like state.

“Sure thing, pretty.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your puffy cheeks before retreating. He let you both be, cold marble beneath your thighs now warmed by your constant body heat. You passed out pretty quickly against Felix’s chest. Cocooned, safe.

What you did miss in your deep, deep sleep was the way they carried you.

Felix physically, to their shared room. Changbin carrying your drinks and fetching your favourite pillow from the hall.

And what you heavenly missed in the night; they made up to you in the morning.

And the next night. And the night after that.

Because even though you occasionally suffered restless nights, you knew one of them would always be there to catch you.

And you’d do the same for them.

P.S. Fuck Chan’s wiring system. Extension cables were the bane of your nightly living. *holds up fingers in a cross and hisses*

well would you look at that: updated 03/OCTOBER/2021

[pillage-and-lute]

Hey I have a holiday prompt for you! What if it’s the pairing’s first holiday together and they stress about figuring out what to get each other? Any pairing you feel like! PS Reading your stuff never fails to put a smile on face!💜💜💜

Hi Blondey!

cute shit ahead. Modern AU

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“Yen,” I swear,” Geralt panted into the phone. “It’s an emergency. Please, I need your help.”

“No.”

“Yen please I’m actually begging.”

“You should have thought to beg before Christmas Eve.”

“I’m meeting him tonight, Yennefer, I’m on Wilson Street, with all the shops and I’m so lost, please.”

“No.”

“I’ll set you up with Jaskier’s hot friend. The one from the coffee shop. She’s single.”

“...I’m on my way.”

-- -- -- Across Town, Triss and Jaskier’s Apartment -- -- -- 

“I just thought I’d have more time to get him a gift,” Jaskier wailed, draped dramatically over Triss’ beat up armchair. “And then it was thanksgiving, then finals and it’s Christmas eve and I don’t have a gift.”

“Well,” Triss said, sipping her cocoa and barely looking up from her book. “It’s not noon yet, shops aren’t all closed. What kind of gift does your relationship need?”

“What?” Jaskier looked up from his flop of despair, confused. 

“I mean, if you’d been dating for a month it would be slippers or some scotch or something.”

“We’ve been dating eight months though!” Jaskier wailed. “I love him, Trissy, desperately. I see his face and everything goes all pink and mushy.”

“You should get that checked out.”

“No, I mean,” Jaskier sat up and looked at her. “I think he could be the one. He might be it for me.”

Triss looked up from her book. She’d known Jaskier since university, and his heart had always been so mobile, but there was something shining in his eyes. She shrugged mentally. Put it down to a Christmas miracle, but Jaskier was really in love.

“What does he like?”

Jaskier huffed. “He likes being grumpy.”

“And?”

“Me.” He paused for thought. “His horse, Roach, he loves riding. He loves his goddaughter, and mythology.”

“Lord of the Rings nerd?”

“Oh you have no idea, he’s basically Aragorn if Aragorn had albinism.”

“I know a place,” Triss said, getting up. “Put on your coat.”

“Will it be open?” Jaskier asked anxiously, pulling his boots on.

“They live above the shop,” Triss said, throwing his scarf at him. “I know the owners, I’ll just shoot them a text.”

-- -- -- Back on the other side of town -- -- --

“Okay,” Yennefer said. “And you’re sure the hot barista is single?”

“Triss,” Geralt said. “And yes, apparently she’s been crying about it to Jaskier for ages.”

“Right, let’s go looking,” Yennefer said, looking remarkably cheerful.

The rows of shops were mostly open for last minute shoppers and Geralt and Yennefer fought through them. 

Well, Geralt fought. Yennefer just glared and people moved out of her way. 

“Does he cook?” Yennefer asked, pointing at a cookware store.

“Ramen and box mac n cheese,” Geralt said.

“You said he likes clothes?” A very full store with what could only be called hipster clothing.

“He has lots of clothes I want something...special,” Geralt said. He was trying not to lose hope.

“You really like this one.”

“I do, you met him he’s just...bright,” Geralt said, mumbling a little into his scarf as the wind blew a flurry at him.

“Hey, look at the music shop on the corner,” Yenn said. “I’m down here all the time, I’ve never noticed it before.”

Neither had Geralt. “Is it new?” It didn’t look new. It looked nearly condemned.

“You said he loves music,” Yennefer said, stomping in the direction of the store.

“I dunno, that store looks...”

“He loves music,” she said. “And you love him.”

They entered the store.

-- -- -- Triss and Jaskier -- -- --

“How the hell did you find this place?”

“I told you,” Triss said, matter of factly. “I know the owners. They’ll be down any minute to open it up.”

“They’re opening it up just for us?” Jaskier asked guiltily. It was Christmas eve after all.

“They owe me,” Triss said. “I introduced them. Well...reintroduced.”

“Welcome to The Sword in the Stone, Gifts and Novelties,” grinned a young man with very blue eyes and slightly large ears, opening the door. Behind him a blonde young man grinned cheerfully too, he was wearing a santa hat.

“Hi,” Jaskier said, stepping gratefully inside. “It’s a pleasure, I’m Jaskier.”

“Merlin,” said the young man who’d opened the door. 

“Arthur,” the blonde waved.

“Seriously?”

The pair just shrugged. Well, Jaskier, called Buttercup/Dandelion/Julian/a lot of other things, wasn’t about to tell people what to call themselves.

“I hear you need a gift for that special someone,” the blonde -Arthur- said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, he loves fantasy stuff and I just... I don’t know what to get him.”

“Gotcha,” Arthur began to lead him back into the shop. Merlin and Triss were chatting by the door. 

“Were you thinking bigger, got a lovely cardboard cutout of Viggo Mortensen?”

Jaskier pictured Aragorn watching them have sex from the corner of Geralt’s little studio apartment. “Maybe smaller but kind of...niche?”

“Lucky you, this place if full of niche,” Arthur said cheerfully. 

Jaskier looked at the wall full of swords and was that a battle axe? “Yeah...”

“Does he wear jewelry?” asked Arthur, jingling a box full of metal in Jaskier’s direction.

“Not really,” Jaskier said. Then something caught his eye. “Wait...” he pulled something out of the box and held it up to the light.

Somehow...it was perfect.

“How much.”

-- -- -- Yen and Geralt -- -- --

“This place looks closed,” Geralt whispered to Yennefer, looking around at the racks of instruments.

“Not closed dearie, just dusty,” came a cheerful voice from right behind Geralt. He and Yennefer jumped.

“Sorry honeys,” said a little old lady with coke bottle glasses. “Got my slippers on, makes me quiet. She shuffled one foot, clad in pink fluff, off the floor as exhibit A. “Gift from my great grandson, aren’t they darling? Now,” she looked at Geralt with laser intensity. “You’d be needing a gift.”

“Um, yes ma’am,” Geralt said. How had she known?

“Ooohoo you need a gift,” said the tiny old woman, “Cause you’s a boy in love.” She nearly cackled. “Follow me honeys!”

Geralt and Yennefer looked at each other, shrugged, and followed. What choice did they have?

“Got a harp,” the shopkeeper called cheerfully. It was indeed a full, standing, concert harp. It had a figurehead on it but the face looked absolutely agonized.

“Maybe not,” Geralt said.

“Hmmm no,” said the lady, shuffling her fluffy slippers. “Bagpipes?”

“He lives in an apartment.”

“That’ll be a no, then,” said the woman, peering at a rack of instruments in the corner. “Aha!” she shrieked, startling Geralt and Yennefer both. 

“This!”

It was perfect.

“I can’t afford it,” Geralt said, feeling hopeless.

“Oh yes you can,” said the little old lady gleefully, if she could Geralt got the sense she would be jumping and clicking her heels. “Nobody wants ‘em these days, this one’s seventy-five percent off!”

Geralt left with a weird shaped package.

-- -- -- Geralt’s studio apartment, evening -- -- --

“Hey,” Jaskier, said, stomping his boots on the mat.

“Hi,” Geralt replied, stealing a kiss. “What’d you tell Triss?”

“Told her I was sending a gift, what’s you tell Yennefer?”

“She’s heading over there now,” Geralt said. “With that movie they both like.”

“Ocean’s 8?”

“That’s the one, and a plate of homemade Christmas cookies.”

Jaskier smiled at Geralt and stole another kiss. “We’re never going to have a moment of peace, now we set them up,” he said. Geralt grinned at him. “Never, but I think we did the right thing.”

They settled in on Geralt’s little loveseat. Jaskier set a wrapped present on the side table. Beside it, on the floor, was a very poorly wrapped mess. Lots of scotch tape was visible. It was quite large.

Jaskier felt panicky.

“Should we,” Geralt said awkwardly. “Do you want to exchange presents now?”

“Sure.” Oh god, Geralt’s gift was so small, and what if he hated it?

“You first?” Geralt said, handing over the odd package.

Jaskier had always been a rip-it-open present person, but he took his time, although there was no salvaging the taped up paper.

“A lute?” he turned to Geralt in delight, face lighting up.

“A lute,” Geralt said. “Is-is that a good thing?”

“Oh my god, Geralt, yes! Oh I love it! I can’t wait to learn it!” Jaskier dropped kisses all over Geralt’s face, careful of his new baby.

He handed Geralt the little package. “It’s not as great but...”

Geralt was a folding kind of person and folded up the wrapping paper carefully, then he opened the box and took out the amulet with the silver wolf’s head.

“Oh,” Geralt said.

Oh. Was that a good oh or a bad oh? Jaskier tried to breathe slowly.

“Jaskier I...” 

Oh no. He hated it.

“It’s perfect.”

What?

“When I was little I thought I’d be a knight,” Geralt said, pale eyes shining. “And I drew wolf’s heads on everything, my crest, I said.”

Geralt was holding up the amulet as if transfixed. 

“Vesemir can show you, he kept the drawings,” Geralt said. Then he slipped the medallion over his head.

“My knight,” Jaskier said. “My wolf.”

Geralt gave a playful growl. Jaskier’s heart thumped a little harder. Geralt must have picked up on something in his eyes because he cocked his head.

“Oh?” he rumbled, low in his chest. “You want a wolf, do you?” He growled again.

Jaskier leapt up, shrieking with laughter and ran to hide in the bathroom. Geralt caught up before he could close the door.

“I’ll huff and I’ll puff,” he said, dragging Jaskier closer and giving him a bear hug. He growled in Jaskier’s ear.

“And I’ll blow your...how does it go?”

“I’m not sure, wolfie,” Jaskier said, pulling Geralt closer by the amulet. “But I think it ends with you eating me all up.”

It was a very merry Christmas indeed.

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Ope! Idiots! With a random appearance from BBC’s Merlin (In 2020? I guess.) and a little old lady. + the magic of christmas.

[vonaerys-blog]

NCT, a Step Towards the Future

[Or NCT is Taking Over Me and I'm Powerless]

Now this has become a tradition. Me, going back to this abandoned website just to write about men who caught my attention, turning me into a big fan, yada-yada. Well, NCT is different, I felt the elation, euphoria, and excitement. And I believe this time I think it’s real.

Me discovering them wasn’t unplanned but it was unexpected. Around July, a few months ago, I was slowly venturing towards other interests, read: men, as I find it suffocating in the other fandom I was in. Repeated fan wars left and right made me disinterested further.

I followed a bunch of topics of different K-pop idols on Twitter during that time. There was Mingyu, Jooheon, even NCT/WayV’s Lucas, the local male idol group called BGYO, and lastly the Gilas Pilipinas Basketball player Dwight Ramos. But what surprised me was Jaehyun who slithered his way into me without knowing who he was.

It was Mixx’s fault, a Thai actor, on why Jaehyun’s face and whole being invades me right now. He liked a bunch of the guy’s pics on Twitter which in turn ended up flooding my timeline. Now, I didn’t complain at all, it got me even more curious to the point where I followed accounts that’s dedicated to him. I avoided fan accounts as much as possible, I don’t want history repeating itself. (Bad fandom experience involving brainless vermins.) It’s my “live, laugh, love” era and I don’t want some kids to ruin my rebirth, having close friends who turned into NCTzen at the same time as me is enough.

For the first weeks of me being a fan, I didn’t listen to their music at all. I was busy gushing about Jaehyun and his peers. They have multiple channels on YouTube where they put up random videos of them doing different activities. I must say those really pulled me in. Their dynamics with one another amazes me. 

The content was never ending. It’s like they covered almost every niche of activity one can have. From planting fruits to rock climbing, doing ASMR videos or doing some stretching, playing football, assembling an aquarium, or if you like anything mint chocolate? They made a video about that, no caps. I fell in love deeply with how entertaining they are, and how caring they are towards one another. It’s like watching 23 siblings having fun!

Now I know it’s a bit unorthodox, liking a K-pop group without listening to their songs? Hey, here’s the thing, them being an SM artist is a dead giveaway about their talent, musicality, vocals, and their GOD tier visuals. 23 godly men. Conversation done!

And when I finally ventured to their music, it was an instant hit to my ears. The cacophony of layerings, beats, drops (and anti drops, I’m looking at you Sticker!) truly amazed me. I love how different they sound among their contemporaries, always not afraid to be experimental with sounds. The juxtaposition of different styles incorporated into one song? I was clearly awed, it’s like for every mood they have a song for it! People call it noise music and yet their faves are now finally doing the same. Talk about NCT being the blueprint. Ahead of their time, I must say! Then the music videos, it blew me away! When I say SM has the budget for them, they have the budget for them! The editing is so visually pleasing. From NCT U’s Make A Wish to NCT Dream’s Hello Future, WayV’s Regular to NCT 127’s Superhuman, they are all great. Their choreography is always on point, the dancers in the group always give their 100% paired with top tier vocals and you have a power group.

A friend said I came into fandom just at the right time. These men are now all polished and perfect according to them and that gave me, weirdly enough, an assurance that they would never bend down according to what’s trending, to what’s in. They drew flak from people, calling them flops early on, but they persisted and remained original and now it's paying off. It’s never a secret that I knew a few of them since their SM Rookies days. And to watch and see the crowd appreciate them, join the fandom, other groups copying their styles, and now they spearheaded another “risk” during NCT 127’s most recent comeback with STICKER (now, watch its style become the standard in the future), it gave me a sense of pride.

All these achievements have made me proud. I might’ve been a fan for only a few months but reading about and watching their journey has made my heart full with emotions. They inspire me, they make me feel appreciated, they show me the love that has been neglected to me. It’s like I finally found someone that truly deserves the love that I can offer. Being an NCTzen feels surreal because I’ve never been this happier in a fandom. NCT never made us feel alone, they wanted us to see them, to listen to them. They talk to us, they sing to us, they play with us, it is like we are breathing in the same city, breathing the same air. It’s like I can touch them within arm’s reach ready to grab my hand and pull me in their embrace.

And these men are all so grounded. They do not put themselves on pedestals instead they’re all relatable, one way or another. Like how Taeyong was a lost cause during his trainee days. That boy came in with nothing, his mentor almost gave up on him because he can’t dance at all but he persevered. He practiced every night coming back to their dorm late to perfect his skills, and now we’re here, him being the leader of the whole NCT, producing his own songs, and becoming one of the top idols of Korea. Or Renjun who originally auditioned as a dancer but ends up as the lead vocalist because of how beautiful his voice was. And then there’s Jungwoo, sweet Jungwoo who suffered from anxiety to the point where he had to take a break, a hiatus, from NCT. But now he’s back and has done promotions with them, making everybody smile with his antics, and even being an MC to a music show! Imagine how our hearts swelled seeing how far he has come, how brave he was, and how inspiring he is to all NCTzens.

A few days ago, NCT 127 had their comeback. It is my first as an NCTzen and it had me on edge during the releases of the teaser every night until D-day. My friends and I talked on Twitter Space daily, having conversations about the surprises they had for us. This comeback was a culture shock for me. They probably had done every content possible for hyping it up. From photo teasers to track videos, the different concepts they created to even having a whole 30 minutes of sitcom-ish video (which had me laughing like there’s no tomorrow, they’re that good.) Guestings, reality shows, etc. They did it. And it worked! Everyone was excited, they became double million sellers, even breaking some of their own records! Their lead track, STICKER, became the talk of the town. It was so different but it was so Neo. Some didn’t immediately grasp it but once they did it’s game over, it sticks to you. The song was very experimental, probably their most unique title track ever. It’s not NCT if it’s not top tier and CAMP!

My experience with NCT has been euphoric, it brought out joy that has become a stranger to me. It was like I’m constantly unlearning trauma, removing all these baggages that has pulled me down and just being elated at what they have to offer. And in that I become happier, not caring at what others have to say to these men because I know that it won’t hold them back, they would come out hard and strong. I’m also excited for their future comebacks. I heard 127 will have a repackage, there’s WayV’s another album, and possibly NCT 2021! I cannot wait for the future because I am so sure that it’ll be brighter and filled with reciprocated love.

Here I am loved, and I love in return.

♡♡♡

Sincerely,

Vonaerys.

[shmaptainwrites]

omg omg what about peter accidentally admitting to you that he loves you and like he’s a stuttering mess after his confession, until you tell him the feeling’s reciprocated? 🥺

Summary: Peter is an over dramatic gen-z kid who literally can’t handle embarrassment.

WARNINGS: none

A/N: omg yessss and i did a stony kid just for you 🥰

“Pete I’m tired can’t we just go to sleep?” you asked rubbing your eyes with much exhaustion. “My dads are gonna kill me if I sleep past my alarm for the fifth time this week,”

“Come on (Y/N) it’s not like you’ve got anything important to do right?” he teased and you frowned.

“For your information,” you said with emphasis, “yeah you’re right I don’t, screw it.”

“And I mean it’s not like we’re being totally irresponsible, right? We could be out partying, but we’re just maybe starting a Mighty Ducks marathon at 11 p.m.?” he offered and you chuckled.

“How the hell did you even pick those movies to start with? That’s so niche,”

“I may or may not have a profound love for movies with a diverse cast that portray the value of friendship ans teamwork who are also led by Emilio Estevez,” Peter countered and you face palmed.

“Pete you’re such a dork,” you rolled your eyes and flopped onto the couch next to him.

“I’m the dork? You’re the one who got father daughter dance lessons so you could learn the choreography to one of the songs from Grease.” he countered and you gasped.

“That was uncalled for! And for your information my dads wanted those lessons just as much as I did,”

“God I love you,” Peter grinned and you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Love me? Is that a thing we say to each other now?”

Peter had a perfect escape, and yet he decided to blow it.

“I-I mean it can-I guess if you real-I can’t say-we’re close enough for-“

“Peter I literally cannot understand a word you’re saying.” you chuckled nervously.

“L is for let me die please,” Peter mumbled in embarrassment and you rolled your eyes at his over dramatic typical gen-z nature.

“Do you...do you actually love me?” you smiled.

Peter chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded his head slowly.

“Oh Pete, don’t look at me like that,” you chastised, hitting him lightly. “Why do you think I put up with you? And by that I mean stay up past my point of no return at the risk of getting in trouble from my dads?”

“Okay I’m gonna take a shot here, is it because you love me too?” he asked and you nodded with a grin.

He took that response very well and seemed like he might even kiss you before asking,

“Hey, um... can I kiss you?”

You nodded your head vigorously and Peter leaned in pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“What are you waiting for Pete, let’s start the marathon,” you poked him and he smiled, feeling confident enough to hold you close.

“Um excuse me young lady,”

“Shit,” you mumbled and turned around facing both of your fathers. “H-Hi?”

Tony looked at Steve and they both let out a sigh, knowing at this point it was out of their hands.

“What are we watching?” Steve asked and your heart finally started beating again after you thought they might have seen you kiss Peter.

“Mighty Ducks,” Peter squeaked and Tony seemed to light up.

“Oh I love that movie! Steve honey, you’re gonna enjoy this,”

At least you could worry about your dads another time.

Feedback is always appreciated and send me an ask if you want to be added to my tag list - Miss Marvel