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kitorin · 5 months

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to you, my lover.

in which, shinonome akito surprises his favourite writer.

contents. shinonome akito x gn!reader, just fluff really, <- might've ruined it with an attempt of crack, unproofread and messy bc i can't think properly anymore a/n. this was supposed to be my birthday fic, i didn't finish it in time and was considering deleting but nah not today

You're tired. Really tired.

It's not a complaint, being permitted to stay out late to celebrate your birthday, now returning on a long yet peaceful and empty train ride. With the occasional rattling, it was silent, with the exception of your tired breathing and the rustle of your clothes every time you shuffled around a bit.

And your boyfriend.

Arms crossed and back leaned against his seat, his eyes remain shut, resting a bit after such a long day. Fatigue pays a visit to you as well, a yawn claws out of your throat, earning an immediate reaction from Akito.

Arm snaking behind your head, he pulls you in by the shoulder, making sure you rest comfortably against his. You snuggle against him, the scent of his cologne makes you crave more of him and his touch. The jacket that was once resting on his lap is thrown over you, and carefully he adjusts it, without moving his shoulder.

"Tired?"

You nod, resting your eyes a bit.

"If you're able to stay awake, I want to give you my gift."

"Excuse me?" As if you weren't ever exhausted in the first place you sit up, staring at him with confusion. "Akito, you bought me pretty much every book on my 'to be read'. Not to mention the promise rings too." Your glance at the silver wrapping around your finger, amber and saffron imbedded into it. "I told you so many times I didn't need anything, let alone something that would've costed so much."

Akito shrugs casually. "There's no such thing as 'too much' when it comes to you."

"And there's a thing called being financially irresponsible..."

"I'm managing my money carefully, I swear." He pledges with breathless laughter. "I assure you it wasn't expensive, I promise. I'm going to give you the world when I go professional, anyways." He fishes for something out of his bag, something small and wrapped with colourful paper.

"This feels like a book." You comment instantly, it's easy to identify when you've received so many for your birthday.

Akito shrugs again in response. "Check it, then."

You oblige to his words, unwrapping the package in a manner that didn't make a mess on the train. Your guess was correct, it is a book. Only this time with an unrecognisable title and author— it didn't have either. It was white, with nothing else.

"Who's the author?"

Another shrug, and you decide not to bother asking anymore questions. You turn to the first page.

Table of contents. This time you recognise the titles.

Because they belong to none other than you.

"You printed it out all of this?" You've re-read your writing constantly, whether it be proof-reading or trying to figure out how to elevate your prose. But when it's in your hands in the form of a book instead of the words you type up on your laptop, it feels surreal, maybe even a bit wrong. It's everything you've sent and shown him, whether it be fan fiction, attempts at poetry, extracts of screenplays, or snippets from future novels you plan on publishing.

"'Course I did. You love books, I love you and your writing." Akito says it all the time, always being the first person to read your works, sending a plethora of text messages about his thoughts on them.

You inspect the contents of the book, and as he said it's all your work. But, pale highlighter adorns the pages, black ink decorating in between lines, hearts and even more words committed to paper.

The imagery here is gorgeous here. I love these words especially ->

Although I can't and don't, I feel like I can relate to this character, the way you express their internal thoughts and actions makes me feel like I've become them

Why is he so adorable?? The dialogue is so sweetly comforting.

I think this one's my favourite. It was super cute. Short and simple but enough to make me smile all day.

You turn to another story, this one with a darker premise.

SHE DESERVES BETTER !!

This hurts so much ╥﹏╥ Internal monologue is a 11/10 (as always)

Uh oh...

PLEASE HAVE MERCY

SCREW YOU SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE A HAPPY ENDING

This one's my new favourite. Thanks for making me cry

(my tear stains) Small arrows point towards (formerly) wet patches on the page, the evidence left there shocks you.

"You actually cried? And annotated your tears?" Not once, but multiple times, on each work that connoted anything sad.

"Love, your writing, just like you, makes me feel a lot. It's not often I cry, you know." He leans in to kiss you on the cheek. "Hope my annotations did it some justice."

Each comment makes you smile irresistibly, whether it was a serious paragraph breaking down and analysing specific moments or 'someone cooked here.' being scrawled. No details were missed by him, ones that you assumed were too subtle and therefore unnecessary because no one in your comments noticed them.

"You noticed all of this? None of my friends or readers did."

"Of course I did. I've read everything over and over again and love you too much to miss any of those details."

"And every note at the end is synonymous for 'new favourite'." It's not a complaint, it's quite adorable really, watching him struggle to make up his mind. "You even compiled your favourite quotes at the end? You think my stuff is quoteworthy?"

"How could I not? Heck, I don't think an anthology is enough. I need it tattooed somewhere on me." A gasp severs his words. "I know exactly what I'm going to do on my eighteenth birthday."

"Don't. Think about it." But the prospect of him loving your prose enough to permanently etch it into your skin makes you smile. "But seriously. This is beautiful, thank you." You're not sure why it feels so different, despite Akito always texting you these sorts of comments. Perhaps it was it's physical manifestation that had evoked so much emotion.

"I remember, when I first opened up to you."

And so do you. It was certainly awkward, with a plentiful amount of tears and uncertainty. But in the end you found yourself comprehending Akito and his character more, which was worth any sort of unpleasantries.

"You ended up analysing every song I covered or wrote. And you still do. I kept those notebooks with me, and read them whenever I felt worried. It's you. You're the reason why I can listen to recordings of myself without wanting to hide. Took me a while, but without you I wouldn't've achieved it."

You peer up at him, as he gazes at the train's roof, reminiscing those memories. You had contemplated for so long, wondering whether that act would've truly done anything, whilst worrying about embarrassing yourself. Now, being able to admire the peaceful expression he wore, you can easily say you have no regrets.

"I wanted to do the same for you. I didn't like how you weren't able to see the perfection your writing held." Akito's hand reaches for yours. "I know what it's like. To hate your own art because of what other people say and growing fearful of another's opinion, or how subjectivity doesn't seem to be in your favor. It's suffocating, that's why you mean the whole world to me for freeing me of that insecurity." He bites his lip, a method he relies on to quell any strong emotion.

He's spot on. The words of others are equally as capable of hurting as they are uplifting. It's common advice to not heed any mind to others, but when it comes to writing it always felt necessary to you. No matter how well you wrote to satisfy yourself, it didn't mean anything if no one else liked it; it meant no sales, meaning no money, which only meant that writing was an invalid career for the future unless it pleased others.

Even if it weren't a professional pursuit, it doesn't feel like something one can establish its value, at least, not without the validation of others.

"You were the lens I needed to see the beauty in myself. And I want to be the one you need."

You smile, planting a kiss on his lips. "Think you already are."

Akito sighs with a grin, "Then, I can die happy now."

A playful, gentle, slap hits his shoulder. "Quit being so overdramatic."

"What? Would've been a waste if the best author in the entirety of human history didn't get to see how amazing them and their writing were."

"Now you're just hyperbolising everything."

He pokes you in the cheek. "I see you smiling."

"Because of how ridiculous you are." You thank the train for being empty tonight, otherwise you wouldn't have the freedom of quarreling. "You're an idiot. Sometimes."

"And I still think having one of your quotes tattooed onto me would be a good idea."

Akito's persistent, even when it came to things that appeared to be mere jokes. "That's so random—? No you're not getting any of my writing tattooed onto you."

"Fine, but left pec or right pec?"

"Oh my god." Though you scold him, the rest dissolves into breathless laughter, as he pulls you in for a hug.

He scatters kisses all over your face, as you savour the warmth of his body. "Happy birthday, love."

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins, @pokkomi, @chigirizzz

#bye my writing game has been so off recently ngl #(at least on tumblr :>)#shinonome akito #pjsekai #shinonome akito x reader #pjsk #prsk #pjsk x reader #akito shinonome #proseka #vbs #prosekai x reader #fluff #colorful stage #akito shinonome x reader

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goodmorning-rigoberto · 3 months

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> 9:45 am.

asakikuweek day 3: food/tea/coffee

@asakikuweek2024

There was no need for him to be checking the clock every minute that passed and yet this was not the first time he found himself doing it.

It was, in a way, a morning ritual.

Three minutes before, fix (a little) his unruly hair.

Two minutes before, put the machines to preheat.

One minute before, have a paper cup ready to be used.

9:45 am. Not a second more, not a second less. The bell on the door announcing the arrival of his "favorite client".

Arthur knew, deep down inside that he was not being fair to anyone who walked through the cafeteria door when someone was enjoying a fairly subtle plus in terms of his service by being a "favorite regular", but he also knew that if no one found out then there was no crime and everything was fine in this world. Everything was fine and peace reigned and he could devote himself to observe very carefully each one of the movements that the newly arrived customer made until he approached the counter.

Bright smile on lips and an expectant cup.

"Honda-san, good morning, the usual?" asked the blonde behind the counter, always helpful and eager to receive that warm smile with a touch of surprise the other always managed to give. In addition to the $7.95 the matcha latte cost (medium, almond milk, an extra shot of espresso, piping hot) that smile was his personal payment for a good service provided.

"Good morning. Yes, thank you" a small bow, a reflex of what seemed like years of learned formality.

"Coming!" one more smile and their interaction for the day was over.

The client, who had lived rent free in Arthur's mind for a few months since he started working in the small cafeteria, was leaving his sight and his life for that day. And Arthur Kirkland, a senior literature student who had just accepted the job to earn extra money for his studies, couldn't wait for his next meeting. The next day at 9:45 am Kiku Honda, black hair and almond eyes, always wears a well-ironed suit and briefcase in hand would exist again for a few minutes near him.

A sigh.

He was so lucky.

There was nothing else to do.

"You know you could just ask him more than just his name, right? Right?" a voice behind him offered and the barista didn't even have to turn around to know who was the owner. "I mean, he sure is cute and nice but that's about it. I think it would be more interesting to know what those pretty eyes are hiding."

"Do you think I haven't thought about it?" Arthur responded exasperated. Of course he had! Each and every night he went to bed putting together a master plan to be able to cross the dependent/client barrier and learn more about the object of his affection, but when morning came it would all fade and anxiety would overcome him. Doubt, his worst enemy, and the self-hatred to which he was already so accustomed. "It's not that easy"

"Well, maybe this is your lucky day."

A confused look, what exactly was Francis up to? Expectant and with very little trust placed in whatever was next to come out of the other's mouth, he crossed his arms. Someone remind him why he was friends with Bonnefoy.

His coworker leaving his workstation behind the bar to raise an object before his eyes. A new master plan, this time foolproof. Triumphant smile on his lips as he felt bigger and more capable before Arthur's eyes.

Kiku's briefcase, forgotten on one of the chairs near the bar.

"What are you waiting for!?" he ordered taking him out of his stupor. "I'm sure he'll be looking for it and if he returns to the cafe, you won't be able to talk to him. Go ahead and don't come back until you get a date."

Francis was crazy, too loudmouthed for his own good, too exuberant for the sake of the universe. French to death. Capricious and sometimes inconsiderate; but at the end of the day an incredible and ingenious friend.

That was no time to get sentimental.

Briefcase in hand he left, looking for the dark hair he could identify in a crowd of millions or see fifteen thousand kilometers away. There was no time to lose, this opportunity was his.

-. -. -. -. -. -. -. -. -.

"Honda-san! Honda-san, wait!" the blonde called him, running to meet him. "Honda...san..."

Air leaving his lungs after the sudden race.

"Huh? Is something wrong?" the black-haired man asked, surprised to hear his name after turn around to find the coffee barista.

"Your...your ..." words getting stuck in his throat from the lack of air. ("Strength, Arthur! This is not the time for this") Recomposing himself, he placed the forgotten object in front of them, managing to establish a point. "You forgot your briefcase"

A new (and never seen before) surprised expression was what he got as a reward, a variation of the small look he gave him every day after Arthur let him know he had his order perfectly memorized.

Two prizes in a day.

He truly was lucky.

"Oh my, I must have forgotten in the rush. I don't know where my head is these days. Sorry for the inconvenience"

"Not at all, it's okay, thank goodness you forgot it in the cafe and not somewhere else on your way to work"

"Yeah, that would be troublesome for everyone" said the opposite, tired, adding a small ironic laugh at the end. Now that he had him face to face and under a different light other than the artificial bulbs in the cafe, Arthur could see not only the difference in height between them, but how pretty his eyes really were and how deep the color was. His beautiful skin without any imperfection and the golden highlights of his tie. Definitely that day he was winning like no one else in the world.

Clumsy hands full of nervousness found their way to hand the briefcase, fingers touching for a second sending electricity through every corner of his body.

"Again, i'm really grateful. I don't know what I would've done without your help..."

"Arthur" he was sure he had mentioned his name before from time to time, but another one under this new context didn't hurt anyone

"Arthur, you really make my mornings the best"

And the barista knew that he was referring to the coffee provided, but nevertheless he decided to take credit for the fact simply to feel that happiness as his own.

"I'm always here to help"

-. -. -. -. -. -. -. -. -.

The day before, after one last thank you and a cordial goodbye, Kiku Honda took his existence away from Arthur. Now, two minutes before 9:45 am the blonde was waiting for him, strangely expectant. For some reason things felt different, for some reason he was confident enough that he could talk for more than a minute with Kiku, for some reason he found himself wanting more and more.

The bell on the door announced the arrival he had been waiting for. And, without fail, there was his favorite client.

Almond eyes, black hair, reddish tie and to the british's surprise, a shy smile never seen before, one of someone who knows he is in the presence of someone familiar.

Arthur's heart skipped a beat.

Head spinning.

Feeling like he was about to faint.

A shy smile, dedicated exclusively to him.

Oh to be this lucky so early in the morning.

In a friday, no less.

"Honda-san, good morning, the usual?" smooth, using his acquired skills not wanting to stray too far from the routine established between them for fear of dying right there.

"Good morning, Arthur. Yes, thank you"

Another difference and he wasn't sure he could take any more. That was the second day in a row Kiku had said his name.

"Thank you very much, again, for your help yesterday. When I arrived at the company I realized that I didn't know what I would have done without the briefcase," he added, speaking more than Arthur had ever heard him. His voice charming. "You've saved me"

The barista smiled, that hadn't been a big deal but for some reason the other's sincere gratitude made him feel good about himself.

"It was nothing, I'm glad I was able to help. You know, anyone would have done the same" nervous, trying to make light of the situation.

"Is that so? Anyway..." rummaging through the pockets of the light brown coat he usually wore on the coldest days, a coat like any other Arthur had seen but that on Kiku looked different. Modern, elegant and pleasant. "I would like you to have this, is something small but a token of my gratitude. I hope you like it."

Giving him a small metal box with floral motifs.

"Oh, no need Hond---"

"No, no, I insist. It's the least I can do."

Arthur, feeling his face burn (and hoping that his blush was not so noticeable) wanted to add one last objection, but Francis, calling the japanese man's name to deliver his order, prevented him from doing so.

One last smile and another of those small bows so typical of the opposite and, once again, he took his existence away for that day.

But that day, unlike any other, Arthur couldn't wait for the next one to arrive.

-. -. -. -. -. -. -. -. -.

The succession of the next few days was something Arthur had not imagined could happen even in his wildest dreams. He dreamed about Kiku, of course, that and a few other things he wasn't willing to mention out loud.

"Making progress on your affair during work hours?"

Francis will tease him, enjoying Arthur's now very frequent blushes, after the small gift of gratitude he had received from the black-haired man; a curious exchange begun between them.

Unable to accept the cookies (which he had discovered when opening the pretty aluminum tin) just like that, the barista decided that he should give him something in return. Paying for his order with "today's coffee is on the house" was the beginning of a very varied exchange of objects and food between them.

"I can't just keep accepting that you pay my coffee, take these cookies in return"

"No need, Honda-san, please choose a piece of cake from our menu. Those are daily made"

"That's very kind of you Arthur, here, I hope you like them"

"Do you like eclairs, Honda-san?"

"My older brother sent a box of tangerines from home and there are too many for just one person, please take some if you like. Share them with your coworker"

"May I recommend a book to you?"

"Please, just Kiku is okay"

"I hope you like them, Arthur"

"Thank you very much, Kiku"

And so on.

A cordial exchange where feelings grew day by day where familiarity settled between them. Both, without saying it, looking forward to the next day where they could exist in each other's presence even for a few minutes. Learning a little more about the person behind and in front the counter. Fingers brushing for seconds as they delivered the next gift, subtle smiles, bright eyes and a change in the air that made them feel calm and restless in equal parts.

Arthur was living his best life. He never imagined that something as small as handing Kiku his forgotten briefcase would create an avalanche of situations that would end up bringing them closer and closer. He sighed, it wasn't right to have favoritism between clients, but he wouldn't lie and say that the only bell he expected to hear was the one at 9:45 am.

And there it was.

And with that sound Kiku's existence became present.

And with it, Arthur's heart began to beat faster.

"Kiku, good morning. The usual?" he asked trying to keep his cool and friendly smile ready to give away.

This time however the newcomer remained silent. Looking nervous. His pretty eyes avoiding his gaze.

"Good morning," he managed to say after a few seconds "I, yes thank you... the usual would be perfect"

Surprised, Arthur wrote his order on the small cup he always had ready on hand, giving his heart a few minutes to adjust. Was something happening? Had he done something wrong?

He didn't understand the change. At least he didn't feel any type of negativity coming from the other, it was a different morning, yes, but not in a bad way. Arthur couldn't pinpoint what was different about Kiku but to his relief it wasn't a bad difference. He was about to ask, wanting to know what was happening but to add to his surprise the japanese was faster than him.

Kiku, who he had learned about for the past months, was full of surprises as he held out a small box wrapped in a light blue cloth.

Clearly a lunch box.

Clearly homemade.

Clearly for him.

"Please, if it is to your liking, I would like you to accept this"

"Kiku, I..."

"I don't want to be rude or take up any more of your time, so... I'd better go. Good morning, Arthur, see you later."

And just like that he left, leaving him stunned as he tried to understand what had happened. It was a real thing happening early in morning of that day, the container in his hands was proof of it but he couldn't believe Kiku had taken the time to prepare him lunch.

"Are you going to stare at it like a fool or go after him?" a familiar voice behind him asked, the amusement of this whole situation loud in his words.

"I don't know if I should..." doubt eating him.

"What are you talking about? Honda-san not only left without paying but he also forgot his coffee. Come on, go give it to him"

"Huh?"

"Arthur, you might be very into this rose colored romantic situation but this is still a business"

"But I..."

His gaze rising from the box in his hands to the hot cup at the bar. Francis smiling understandingly, he couldn't believe he was playing cupid for the other. Was he this dumb?

"Come on! His matcha latte will get cold"

And without waiting another second, cup in hand, the blonde went out in search of his favorite client.

-. -. -. -. -. -. -. -. -.

"Kiku! Kiku, wait! Kiku!" Arthur screamed, his voice agitated after managing to catch him. "You forgot....you forgot your coffee." then added, trying to seem casual, the running client finally stopping but refusing to turn and look at him.

That was it.

There was nothing to do.

"Francis sent me to deliver this to you, it's still hot. It was a surprise, you know? No customer has ever left without paying, but don't worry, it's on the house...as a thank you, for the lunch...you made for me."

His cheeks burning.

"I don't know what else I can do to thank you, you're always giving me delicious things and I'm grateful, but I'm a terrible cook..." a giggle to try to lighten the atmosphere. God, why it was so difficult?

Kiku slowly turned to face him and that's when Arthur understood the reason why the other refused to do it. His cheeks were burning, the first time he had seen him this flusterer.

Another new surprise.

"Could you ..." He paused, inhaling sharply to calm the tremor in his voice. "Would you agree to have dinner with me, that is... Would you like to go out and have dinner, sometime? If your schedule allows it, that's for sure"

Arthur convinced himself that this whole situation was not happening. It wasn't possible, no, not at all, it was more likely he had slipped in the shower that morning and hit his head and was currently living one of those dreams similar to reality that people in a coma state experience.

Yes, that was it.

That had to be it.

Interpreting his silence, perhaps as a refusal, Kiku smiled shyly.

"It's okay if you can't, I'm sure you're very busy and I..."

"No!" the barista quickly added, wanting to dispel any doubts. The clearer the better "I mean, I would like that, I want to have dinner with you."

It was not a dream.

And in an outburst he couldn't quite explain, as if a switch motivated by the emotion of the moment had been activated inside him; Arthur close the distance between them to kiss the other's cheek. A small contact that lasted a few seconds, but contained all the feelings accumulated in the previous months. He couldn't take it anymore, he surrendered to Kiku's existence and the unique way he had of surprising him.

His calm breathing and the warmth that emanated from his body now that he had him so close after the contact between lips and cheek.

"Here's your coffee..." he managed to say, almost in a whisper as if he didn't want to disturb the moment.

"Thank you" polite as always "Does Thursday at 8 works for you?" he added, still very close to his face. Still polite and somehow considering what was best for him.

"Yeah, can I have your number?"

"Yes"

"Can I ask more about you?"

"Sure"

"Can I...kiss you again?"

And this time, without daring to wait for an answer, Arthur closed the distance between his lips and Kiku's presence again. Some time ago he had believed that between him and Kiku Honda was an entire galaxy, that the man was nothing more than an alien like existence he was only allowed to see for a few minutes during his work at the cafe.

Now. With his breath tickling his skin and his soft lips in contact with his own, Arthur was sure that if he exploded in that very moment or the world ended or a gigant rock coming from saturn was about to eradicating the human race or if he really was in a coma-induced dream; none of that mattered.

Nothing aside from Kiku's lips matter.

God he was so lucky.

#asakikuweek2024 #asakiku #hws england #hws japan #ASAKIKUWEEK DAY 3 OR THE COFFEE SHOP AU OF MY DREAMS¿#GOOD LORD ARTHUR KIRKLAND YOU ARE SO TACKY SO CHEESSY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH #this was so long but i had a lot of fun! hope you all like it and again excuse the many mistakes this might have

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sighingsiren-tales · 2 years

Text

The Art of Seduction

You know what the f--k going on here guys

4.4k

“Compliments of the gentleman over there”.

You turn around to look over at the man who had sent you the drink, sending him a slight smile before pushing the drink back to the waiter and telling him no thank you. A few moments later who you assumed was the waiter, placed your cocktail in front of you. You were about to thank him before you realized that it was the same man who had sent a drink over. He sat in front of you, dark hair away from his face as he balanced himself on his elbows on the small table.

“So you’re not a mango girl? Noted”.

You simply look him up and down, taking a small sip of the strawberry passion fruit combo you had ordered for yourself, the cocktail he sent you untouched.

“I’m allergic, actually” You deadpan, relishing in the look of absolute disbelief and terror on his face.

“I am so sorry. I had no idea that you were allergic!” He exclaims, seeming to be genuinely sorry.

“Well of course. How could you have known? We are strangers, after all” You quip, chuckling slightly before pulling your book out of your purse and opening it to your bookmarked page, hoping the riff raff would take itself out.

You barely read two lines before he, unfortunately, speaks again.

“The Art of Seduction, huh?” He spoke, parroting the title of your book as if he was a proud first grader, reading a sentence.

How brilliant.

You look up from the page for a quick second, giving a tight lipped smile before returning to your book.

“So, you're trying to seduce someone?” He asks, trying painstakingly hard to be sexy and failing, rather miserably.

“Nope, just trying to read” Your words are spoken as nonchalantly as possible.

“In a bar?” He questions indignantly.

“Yeah, that’s the meeting place we chose” A deeper, smoother voice answers.

You raise your head and have to stifle a gasp; You pray your face doesn’t betray your thoughts. Although it’s near impossible, you try your best to conceal your surprise at the ridiculously handsome, tall man standing by your side.

“I didn’t realize we were having company tonight. I’m Namjoon” He held his hand out for the other young man to take, which he did, begrudgingly.

“DoHyun, I was actually just leaving” He spoke slowly, obviously dejected as he left the booth you were in.

Namjoon watches him leave with a polite smile, sitting down smoothly before letting a scowl overtake his handsome features.

“I hate creeps like that. Your tone, your body language and your words were telling him to fuck off” He places a few books that he was carrying on the table.

“Some people can’t take no for an answer” You sigh, closing your book; You were not in the mood to read anymore.

“Thanks for the save though” Your thanks is welcomed with a curt nod.

“Robert Greene’s a genius isn’t he?” Namjoon compliments, peaking your interest as you finally make direct eye contact with him.

“Isn’t he?” You parrot.

“I love how he explains each seducer with a historical example and then dissects it. He makes it so easy to understand and yet so captivating” Being able to talk about your intense love for the book as well as the author was a passion of yours, a passion Namjoon seemed to understand.

He looks at you with a slight smirk, dark eyes fixated on your own as you speak.

“Is that right? Which one do you identify with most?” He asked, his tone oh so suggestive.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise to his question to which he laughs, the sound rich, beautiful and somehow sexy. It was…lovely to watch him smile.

“What? You're gonna dismiss me too, pretty girl?” His voice lowers an octave in such a way that you had no choice but to take notice.

You shrug, deciding to play coy, though your cheeks burned at his compliment.

“I don’t know, what do you have that the last guy didn’t?” You lean back, taking a sip of your cocktail as Namjoon pretends to think.

“Well” He paused to push his glasses up a bit.

“For one thing, common sense” You giggle at the statement, trying your best not to attract attention.

“And second thing” He grabs your hand from across the table, effectively bringing the focus back on him, pressing his lips gently against the back of it in a kiss.

He held onto your dainty hand as one holds a flower while he gazes into your eyes. His fingers are soft, much larger than yours but gentle with you.

“I am a grown man, not a little boy. Whatever he did was all lust and no actual thought”

You raise a brow.

“A grown man, huh?” You ask, a smile peeking out from the corners of your lips.

He nods before speaking, a hint of a dimple flashing.

“Grown men tend to be straightforward; Games are not really my thing”.

He took a sip of the drink you couldn’t have, seemingly enjoying it before placing it back beside you. His eyes connect with yours again.

“I am very straightforward”.

“And I will stop you when you get too direct” You joke, chuckling at his advances.

“Ah, good. That means I haven’t offended you… yet” He leans forward.

You giggle.

“Yet?”.

A pause.

“I must warn you” He whispers while looking into your eyes from across the table.

You lean in as well, unable to resist his charms.

“Tell me” You speak slowly, his gaze lowers to your lips.

“You’re going to have to stop me soon sweetheart” His voice is low.

“And if I do not?” You ask, watching his eyes darken the longer he stared.

“I may really start to get out of pocket” He ends his statement with a dark chuckle.

Deciding to stir the pot, you ask, “Oh? And what would that look like?”.

He was quick to acquiesce: “Give me permission to show you”.

You look him over, tongue swiping over your bottom lip before you could stop it.

“You speak like you know me, Namjoon” You particularly relish the way that he shivers when you say his name.

It takes him a second to respond.

“You’re in my human psychology and development class beautiful” No later than the words leave his mouth, you want to kick yourself for not recognizing him earlier.

He giggles at the realization that passes over your face.

“It’s finally coming to you” He laughs heartily.

“So, aside from saving me from creeps and flirting with me, why is it you’re now talking to me?” You tease.

“Why are you dodging my question?” His tone mimics yours.

You pause to think about it, giving him permission you mean…Could that truly be a good idea? Your hormones seem to think for you as you find yourself formulating your answer before you realize that you already know what you want. Your teeth gently sink into your lower lip before you can nod your answer, the answer he hoped for. You see a hint of a smile across his lips before he tsks.

“A nod won’t do. Say it for me little one” He spoke darkly, quite lowly.

“Namjoon” You breathe, relishing in the strong domineering aura that his presence gave off.

You feel safe.

His eyes darken yet again, playful aura gone and his whole demeanor changing the second you spoke his name.

“Isn’t it a bit too early for you to be saying my name like that?” He asks, fiddling with your fingers gently.

You shrug before downing some of the liquid courage. You inhale.

“I do nothing without reason so”, Another sip.

“I give you permission” You say before you lose your nerve.

You don’t understand what it was about him that drew you in so much but it was even more difficult for you to resist him. He gave you a look you couldn’t quite place the second you gave your consent before standing up from his side of the booth, brushing his hands on his jeans and walking over to slide in beside you.

You kind of wanted him to think about sliding into something else.

Before he sat down, you notice the way the black t-shirt he wore fit his broad shoulders perfectly, stretching across his chest as if it was made for him. The rings on his finger, his vibrant, healthy blond hair pushed back away from his face, showing off those beautiful, deep dimples and those plush lips which look so soft, full and inviting; He truly was the perfect, sculpted man. He let his left arm curl around the back of the booth before leaning back against the seat next to you.

“Nice being this close?” He asks in a soft, sultry voice.

You lean against him and inhale. He smelled so good, clean and fresh with a hint of spice underneath; It drove you wild in the best of ways. His fingers trailed lightly across the hem of your dress, caressing the soft skin of your mid thigh and dipping underneath the fabric of your skirt every so often.

“This okay?” He asks in your ear, lips pressed against your hair as you nod.

“Mhm” You sound, making the grave mistake of looking up at him and looking into those deep brown pools of desire.

His lips stretched into the ever so slight of smirks and he jerked his head towards your book.

“Why don’t you read to me?” He whispers, kissing your ear ever so softly.

You swallow before picking up the book, looking for the place where you last stopped.

‘’Magnetism. If any physical attribute is crucial in seduction, it is the eyes. They reveal excitement, tension, detachment, without a word being spoken”.

A pause before reading again.

Namjoon’s fingers slipping into the inside of your thighs, lighting a fire as he goes.

“Go on” He whispers, his voice breathy and sultry.

You prop the book up with one hand, letting another fall to his thigh and gripping the thickness there.

“Oh? That’s the energy you’re coming with?”.

You say nothing in response, instead deciding to continue reading.

“Indirect communication is critical in seduction, and also in charisma. The demeanor of Charismatics may be poised and calm, but their eyes are magnetic; they have a piercing gaze that disturbs their targets' emotions, exerting force without words or action” You struggle to keep your voice level as his fingers may their way to the inside of your panties.

His fingers circle your clit, using your wetness to massage the small bundle of nerves as you feel your breathing grow heavy.

“What’s the matter angel?” He asks softly, kissing the side of your head as you lean over on his shoulder.

You want to retaliate; The best you could come up with was grabbing his erection, stroking slowly over the material of his jeans.

“You haven’t finished reading to me” His voice remains level but he’s speeding up his tempo.

You stifle a moan as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Namjoon, come on” You whine, gripping onto his erection tighter and watching the pleasure in his eyes become glazed over with lust.

“Uh-uh, finish the paragraph” he commands.

He needs only do so once.

You groan, sitting up straighter before you decide to speak.

“F-fidel Castro's aggressive gaze can reduce his opponents to silence. When Benito Mussolini was challenged, he would roll his eyes, showing the whites in a way that frightened people. President Kusnasosro Sukarno of Indonesia had a gaze that seemed as if it could have read thoughts. Roosevelt could dilate his pupils at will, making his stare both hypnotizing andintimidating, Namjoon!” You squeal quietlyas he slips in a finger, curling it softly.

“You stopped stroking baby” He comments as he sinks his finger in deeper.

“I’ll finish when you get us out of here” You whisper, leaning against his chest as you relish the feeling of his finger.

Namjoon couldn’t deny that you were cute, the way that you were leaning against his chest and begging to get out of here was the definition of cute. But, the way that you drew him in, the strong confident aura that gave way to his domineering one when he gave a little pushback was oh so sexy.

“One more line baby” He leans down and gives your lips a quick kiss.

“Just one more and we’ll go” He promises.

You look at the page one last time for the night.

“The eyes of the Charismatic never show fear or nerves” The second you finish, he takes his finger from your heat.

Looking into your eyes, he leans down and puts his finger into his mouth, cleaning it thoroughly before leaning down and kissing you softly, his fingers on your chin.

“You bought anything?” He asks against your lips to which you nod.

He stood from the booth, quickly bringing you to stand in front of him and hide his erection before throwing a $50 on the table. He gives a nod to the waiter, then a nod to the guy you dismissed not too long ago.

You giggle at his tactics seeing as you could barely walk a few steps without him pulling you back into him, groaning every single time. You loved his reactions, relishing in the effect that you both had on each other; It was a carnal attraction and you loved it. Namjoon stopped you when you both got to his car. You looked up and down his model before raising your eyebrows, quite impressed.

She was a pretty jaguar, F-type, and the fact that he owned such a car made you briefly question what it is he does aside from being a student. He unlocks it before you can finish your train of thought, cocking his head to the side quickly and smiling.

“Ya boy works his ass off” He spoke before he got into the driver's seat.

Just as he puts the car into drive, you grab his erection with your right hand, stroking it slowly as he begins to pull out of the parking spot.

You nimbly unbutton his jeans, pushing them down as far as it could go so you could reach into his briefs. When you finally wrapped your hand around his erection, you looked over at him in surprise. Your eyebrows nearly shot up to your hairline. He gave you a sideways glance, a smirk accompanying said look as he turned his eyes back to the road.

He knew what you were thinking.

He’s thick. Way thicker than anything you’ve ever had before.

Your panties could’ve been mistaken for a river at the moment; You pull your hand back to spit in it, immediately wrapping it around him again and watching in amusement as he swore and bit his lip at the wheel. You stroke slowly, not wanting to rush this moment.

“Namjoon”.

“10 more minutes baby, just 10”.

“But~” You whined before letting your fingers trail up your own thighs.

He glanced over at you, presumably missing the warmth of your hand, keeping quiet until the moment that you slipped your hand into your panties. You felt the car speed up. You circled your clit just as he did, bucking into nothing as you whined his name. You were so caught in your pleasure and your own fingers that you didn’t notice it until the car turned off.

His seatbelt is unbuckled and no sooner than it’s off, his lips are on yours again. His jeans remain unbuttoned. Before your hand can reach the apex of his thighs, he grabs your fingers. Kissing them once, he leans in closer.

“I am not fucking you in the car” He declared, fixing himself.

“So, your bed then?”.

His smile at that moment could brighten the heavens. He gives you one last kiss before leaving the car.

You fix yourself up quickly, smoothing down your skirt just in time for Namjoon to open your door. Everything else seemed to be a blur of tension and nerves; The next thing you knew you were sitting on his kitchen counter, your skirt bunched up around your hips as his hands found purchase in your thighs. You moaned into his mouth, his plush lips seeming to caress you softly, seducing you even further as he slid your dark colored panties down your legs. Pushing your dress further up your hips, he broke your kiss to eye the apex of your thighs.

“So pretty” he mumbled, letting his fingers caress the soft skin there before he pulled you to the very edge of the counter.

Namjoon held eye contact, watching you right up until his tongue touched your clit. His tongue was so wet, hot and calculated; It was driving you absolutely crazy. Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed his soft silky locks as you pull his tongue closer. The blonde heard you loud and clear, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and locking them around your lower stomach as he french kissed your nether lips again and again and again. You couldn’t keep still, squirming and bucking against the sensations of his wonderfully skilled tongue.

“Stay still woman” he scolded, before diving back in, this time with a moan that went straight to your head.

Tonguing at your entrance, you could clearly see Namjoon was skilled at this.

“Joon” You called for him, tightening your hold on his hair.

He growled into your pussy, his hands reaching up and grabbing at your chest. The long licks he gave were the last straw for your patience. You yanked up on his locks, to which he looked surprised but let you. You loosen your grip and pull him to you gently. Your noses brush once, then twice before a smile spread across his face. Smelling yourself on his breath, you couldn’t manage any longer: Your arms go around his neck and you’re kissing him as deep as you could manage. The groan that leaves his lips when you wrap your legs around him is sinister, the taste of you on his tongue only making it all the more arousing. You broke the kiss for a quick moment, kissing the side of his neck in the slowest and most torturous way that you knew how as your hands explore the lean muscle you found underneath his shirt. He lets out the prettiest moan and your hand goes to his neck, tilting it upwards so you have free space. Your tongue traces patterns into his skin and you feel his hand grip your waist.

“Enough”.

You stopped kissing him just in time to see the way that his eyes darkened; His shirt goes up and over his head. It falls in a crumpled heap on the floor. The next was his belt, which he undid in the most sexy and aggressive of ways. Your body reacts to his display of aggression, purring as you lean up against his chest. Lifting you by your thighs, he carries you over to where you assume his bedroom was. You nuzzle against him, kissing his chest and occasionally his nipples before he laid you back against the best.

“Needy baby?” he questioned, referring to your behavior.

“Stop talking and come find out” You retorted, leaning up on your elbows so that you could see him properly.

He towered above you in this position; Watching him unbutton his jeans quickly and pulling them down his legs was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

His dick was more impressive in his full glory. The thickness was what had you clenching your thighs together so you could keep quiet. He stroked it once, then twice before taking a step closer.

“Wet it for me” He commanded, his tone dominant.

In that dark, deep voice of his, you’d do anything that Namjoon wanted.

Leaning forward, you looked in his eyes as you did as he asked. He let out a low moan as you wrap your mouth around the tip, licking feverishly at his tip while the spit drips down the sides. Pulling off his dick with a pop, you were barely able to wipe your mouth before Namjoon wrapped a hand around your neck loosely, pulling you up to his lips so you could kiss them.

“Turn around”.

You bit your lip at the command, doing as he asked you to get on all fours. You arch your back deeply, relishing in the low whistle sound that he made as he watched. Namjoon slaps your ass harshly, eliciting a deep, carnal moan from you as you jutted your ass out more for his appreciation.

“You’re filthy baby, you know that? Spitting on my dick and arching your back for me” Namjoon’s dark voice reverberates through the room as he settles himself on the bed, right behind you.

“I’d almost think you do this often” He whispers in your ear as he rubs the head of his dick back and forth against your wetness.

He hisses.

“See how wet your pussy is for me?” His head slips past your barrier.

You stifled a moan, pushing your head into the pillows. His hand is around your throat, lifting you up.

“Stifle another moan and watch what I do to you” He threatened, his voice dark and serious.

“Namjoon” You whined his name as he made it half-way in.

He let a moan slip and you felt even more sexy, pushing back against him as you silently told him you could take more. When he was fully sheathed in your wet heat, he let out a shuddering moan that matched yours.

“I’m about to drown in this pussy baby and I want to hear you enjoy every moment of it”.

He barely gave you time to respond. The calculated strokes that hit your g-spot perfectly spoke for him though.

You moaned loudly, letting out calls of his name here and there as you pushed your ass back against him. His strokes were deep, the sound of your wetness mingling with the symphony of your moans and his. His loud, breathy, open mouth moans against your neck as he grabs onto your hip, shifting to one side so he could have more leverage.

“It’s so thick” You whine, gripping the chocolate silk sheets.

“I know baby, fuck, I know. I want you to see how easily I slide in and out of you” He moaned.

“I can f-feel it. Joon” You whimper.

“Yeah?” He asked breathily before abruptly pulling out of you.

You were about to voice your confusion before he flipped you onto your back, shocking you into silence with his display of strength, as he nestled himself between your legs. He didn’t even bother to go in easy, just slamming into you recklessly.

You could barely hold in your screams, your nails digging into Namjoon’s back as he let out moans of his own. He gave one particularly deep stroke, grinding against your clit simultaneously. You yelped, wrapping a leg around his waist to show how much you liked that.

“You like that, huh?” He asked.

“Yes, Namjoon, yes!” You screamed, bucking up your hips to meet his thrust.

“You’re gonna cum for me, right? I feel your pussy getting tighter” He breathes, grabbing your hips.

You could only make incoherent sounds with how often he was grinding against your clit, holding your hips in place so there was nowhere to run. He was losing himself and that was the sexiest part; Head thrown back, moans loud and reckless. You don’t think he cared who heard but then again neither did you.

“You got quiet on me baby” He paused, kissing your lips once before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

Yeah, because with how deep he was stroking you barely had enough room left in your lungs to breathe.

“Call for me baby” An affectionate nip to your neck.

“Go on” he urged.

“Call for daddy”.

You felt something snap within you.

Daddy, was it?

Bet.

Rolling the both of you over and repositioning yourself on top of Namjoon, you relish in the slight smile that threatens his lips.

“Want me on top daddy?”.

He nods, holding your waist steady as you slide down slowly. He watches you with unfiltered lust as you move your hips back and forth, up and down on his dick. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, he felt his heart stop when the word “daddy” left your pretty lips in a moan. Smiling and leaning up a bit, he wraps his arms around your waist and dives into you powerfully from below.

That breaks your rhythm; Your hands fall on either side of his head as you hover over him but his hands press gently against the small of your back and pull you to him.

“Go ahead baby, scream” he urged.

And scream you did; Namjoon was quite the talented man, hitting your g-spot and your clit. You were spilling out onto his lap, wetting his pelvis but you couldn’t care less; You just needed to reach your high.

“Oh fuck daddy, harder I’m gonna cum”.

“Mm cum baby, daddy’s close”.

“Cum daddy please. Cum inside” you moaned filthily as you bounced on his cock.

Namjoon couldn’t even believe his luck; Was this really happening? He was in euphoria unknown as he watched you slide up and down his dick. The way that you bit your bottom lip when you came around him, your face contorting into pleasure as your hips stuttered captivated him in ways that he truly couldn’t begin to explain.

Gripping your hips tightly, he helped you ride out your high as he chased his own. The coil in his belly grew tighter and tighter; He could barely stop himself from thrusting into you as powerfully as he could.

“I’m gonna cum, it’s a lot baby so make sure you take it all”.

With one more he let out the loudest moan he had all night, burying himself deep within you as he emptied his seed while his hips stuttered. You collapsed on top of him, utterly exhausted but absolutely satisfied

Thank the divine for birth control. He wraps his arms around you tightly, resting his cheek against your shoulder as you both calm yourself from your, ahem, activities.

“Hey Joon?”.

“Yeah?” He asked, voice soft.

“Your dick is huge”.

He let out a hearty laugh, the sound wondrous and adorable as he nuzzled your neck, tightening his arms around your waist before kissing your cheek.

“Thanks doll”.

#bts #bts imagines #bts writing #bts scenarios #kim namjoon #namjoon scenarios #namjoon imagine #namjoon smut #bts smut #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop smut

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vampyrenn · 2 years

Text

Fabric and First Dates (Steve Harrington x F!Plus! Reader)

♡ 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 ♡

♡ 𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 ♡

♡ 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕿𝖜𝖔 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊! ♡

↠ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣: Steve Harrington x Reader ⌈Stranger Things⌋

↠𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: A ‘chance’ meeting brings Steve Harrington into your life after high school, in a different way than before.

↠𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 6.3K (oops)

↠𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: SPOILER FREE!! (Set sometime in 86 but no show plot yet) Explicitly Plus Size!Reader, anxiety issues surrounding weight and eating (Very lightly mentioned here), feminine clothing and identifiers used, no Y/N, one instance of clothes-sharing but it’s mentioned as a larger leather jacket reader doesn’t fully put on, Steve being a massive simp

↠𝔸/ℕ: So unfortunately I’ve had to split this into at least 2 parts because it just got so long, hopefully people enjoy it and are excited for part two since I’m already writing it haha. Part two will go a lot more in depth, this is really just the fun intro to my baby seamstress and Steve’s story. I love them dearly. Also reader has an invented friend named Claire, I tried to pick an unpopular name these days but I’m sorry for ruining your immersion Claires! You’re friend shaped! FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU!!

»»————- ♡ ————-««

Fabric

Indiana summers were hot. The kind of scorching that made your skin stick to your clothes and melted your sandals into the sidewalk if you stood still for too long. It was only nine, but already the sun seemed determined to cook the entirety of Hawkins alive.

Luckily for you, the small crafts shop you worked at had just splurged on a new AC, so you were living the dream, tucked away in a corner, fixing messy displays that just happened to be right under an air vent and mouthing off with Claire, your best friend turned coworker. You barely ever got customers, usually just stay-at-home moms and grandmothers restocking their craft rooms once a month, so neither of you felt too bad about abandoning the register before noon.

“Look, I’m just saying that I think Evil Dead is way better.”

“And I’m just saying that you’re dead wrong.” You poked her in the side, glaring playfully, “Nightmare on Elm Street is clearly superior.”

“You only like it because it came out a few months after we graduated. It’s like your nostalgia movie or something.”

“It’s my ‘celebrating getting the hell out of there’ movie.” Claire giggled, rolling her eyes at you before slotting the last of the samples in its proper place and stepping back to admire her work. Before you could start once again expanding on how Elm Street was perfect and Claire was obviously just ‘nostalgic’ for weird cabins, the bell on the door chimed. You glanced at each other, confused. It was pretty early in the day for any of the usuals, and well, in Hawkins, you didn’t get much besides the usual coming in. this was definitely out of place.

Claire, always the people person, approached the door while you retreated to the counter. The overly polite ‘Hello, how can I help you?’ from her tipped you off that this wasn’t a regular customer. You looked up, mildly curious about what random person suddenly developed an interest in handcrafts, and honey brown eyes met yours.

Steve Harrington.

Quickly averting your gaze, you fumbled to look busy, like somehow that would make him instantly forget you’d just been looking. Picking up a floss catalog and flipping through it, you silently prayed he didn’t remember you. If he did, you hoped at least, the memory was a little bit better than the sad reality.

You’d never had any kind of relationship with Steve, friendly or otherwise, but for a few embarrassing years in high school you’d had a huge crush on him. That all faded away as he started hanging out with Tommy and Carol, dating Nancy Wheeler, and you were more focused on avoiding them than cooing over him in the cafeteria. You were lucky enough to scrape by, as easy as it would have been to single you out, the chubby loner with two friends who made her own clothes. Even after Tommy stopped hanging around him, and Nancy broke up with him the year you graduated, it felt too late by then. Your worlds were too far apart, or so you thought.

Now they were colliding, and you couldn’t decide whether you were happy or petrified. Probably both.

The blood rushing in your ears prevented you from hearing the rest of their conversation, but Claire was at your side just a few seconds later, nudging you with her elbow while Steve disappeared down an aisle.

“Whoa.” She mumbled. You breathed out a laugh, setting the stupid catalog down and bumping her back with your own elbow.

“Whoa,” you agreed, and after a short pause added, “do you think he found his passion for embroidery?”

Claire snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth to disguise the noise and shaking her head at you, eyes full of both irritation and amusement. “If he hears you, I’m not sticking around for a repeat of King Steve’s wrath.” She whispered.

“I heard he’s gotten nicer since then.” You murmured, and she shrugged.

Claire had been your friend since high school, and you both had the same luck with popularity. Outcast, not bullied but not well liked, barely even remembered. It was a shame, really, since she would have made a great cheerleader; pretty, kind, and athletic to boot, but it just didn’t happen. You weren’t complaining, she was your best friend because of it after all, but you always felt a twinge of regret for her.

Maybe for yourself, too.

“He’s been staring at that wall rack for, like, 10 minutes. I don’t think he knows what he’s doing.”

Torn out of your little pity party, you followed her gaze to one of the large overhanging racks, different fleeces and flannels on display just above Steve’s head. He was directly across from them, hands calmly at his sides, unmoving as a statue. You watched him for a minute, and in that time he didn’t move to flip through the samples or even touch one once.

“I mean, it’s summer in Indiana. Why is he looking at fleece?” She continued, giggling. Humming in agreement, you rounded the counter and started slowly approaching him.

As fun as it was to sit behind the counter and laugh at the once most popular guy in school floundering over sewing scissors, you had a job to do, and even if you wanted to avoid it (you weren’t sure you did), it was clear that he wasn’t going to figure out anything on his own.

Hell, he might not even move before closing at this rate.

“I got it.” You called to Claire over your shoulder, waving for her to stay behind the counter. She was a people pleaser, so you-the snarky one, your boss called you sometimes-usually hung back, but you tried to trade off on customers equally. You told yourself that was the only reason you offered, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the burning curiosity of Why is he here? And What is he like now?

Absolutely nothing at all.

“You know, most people at least touch the fabric they’re trying to buy.” His shoulders stiffened and he whipped around, staring at you in a mix of surprise and embarrassment, and despite yourself it made you smile, just a slight twitch of your lip as you looked up at him. It took him a second, but he returned it, and the sweetness of it made you dizzy. You had been expecting a smug grin or a grimace, but he looked genuinely happy that you had come to his rescue. Your heart stuttered.

He’s only gotten more pretty. So unfair.

“Uh, Yeah I…” he trailed off, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, and his expression seemed more playful than embarrassed now that he was talking to you. His eyes lit up in recognition the next second. “Hey, we went to high school together, right?” He said your name like he was certain he was right, and you nodded, lips parting in shock.

“Wow, I’m surprised you remember.” You were, only because it had been a few years and you really hadn’t ever interacted, but you didn’t miss the way your words made him wince, his smile dimming slightly. Fuck. backpedaling as you shook your head, you blurted, “Not because I was a loser, it’s just been so long. But everyone in Hawkins went to school together so it’s a safe guess…”

Excellent save. Can I just die now?

You wrapped your arms around your torso, trying to shield yourself, but Steve laughed a little, like he thought you were actually trying to be funny, and the sound warmed you down to your toes. You smiled a little wider, and the small knot of tension in your stomach came undone all at once.

Three minutes in Steve’s presence, and you were convinced that he wasn’t the same boy he used to be, and you liked this one much more.

“It hasn’t been that long.” He countered, crossing his arms in mock defiance. He was bigger than you remembered too, his chest filled out even more, biceps flexing while he moved, and you attempted to ignore it and focus on not making an ass of yourself. The last thing you needed was to come off as a creep.

“I see we aren’t denying the loser part. Cold, Harrington.” Now you were trying to be funny, and the crinkles near his eyes told you it was working. You felt oddly proud, being able to joke about this with him, like you were old friends and not almost total strangers.

“I kinda thought it’d be weirder to deny it. Do you want me to?”

“For my ego? Yes. But it’s too late now, you’ve wounded my pride.” Your hand fluttered to your chest and you sighed dramatically, “how can I ever recover from this crushing blow?”

He hummed, rocking back and forth on his heels and thinking for a second before declaring like it was the simplest solution in the world, “You could give me your number.”

What?

“What?” You could barely breathe the word out, staring at his casual expression in total bewilderment. Frozen in place, you watched his face flush a baby pink, and he stumbled over his words to explain.

“No, I mean-okay. I’m trying to make this thing, a scarf. Just…to try it. But clearly,” he huffed, gestured vaguely behind him to the shelves lining the walls, “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m asking you for help. It would make you, like, the coolest person in the world.”

Your eyes narrowed, and he had the decency to look a little sheepish, pushing the stray hairs that had fallen over his face back and avoiding your eyes. You had a strange feeling about his reasoning, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it but decided to let it go since this was your first real conversation. Better to keep it friendly.

“This sounds like an excuse for you to get some extra help out of me.” You wagged your finger at him playfully, “But I’ll call it even, since I get to tease you the whole time.”

“You’re an angel.”

Looking down so he couldn’t see how flustered just a simple comment made you, you dug in your work apron, producing a thick black marker with a little ta-da motion to Steve, and he stuck his hand out for you to write your landline on. You focused on writing each number perfectly, so you could stop thinking about how big his hands were.

You drew a little smiley face too, just because you wanted to. When you finished, he pulled his hand back and looked at it, a soft huff of a laugh leaving him when he saw your masterpiece. Suddenly, you were nervous, breaking eye contact to stare at your sneakers. He seemed to be too, taking a quick step back and shoving both of his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans.

“So…I’ll call you sometime.”

“Okay. Cool.” You bobbed your head.

“Cool.” A few more steps back, near the door, he pulled one hand out of his pocket and gave you a quick thumbs up before turning and hauling ass out of the store.

It was the lamest thing you’d ever seen Steve Harrington do, and it had you melting into the floor like you were sixteen again.

You couldn’t spend too long dazing over his smile, however, because Claire was rushing towards you, barely containing her wild grin.

“Oh my god!” She squealed, gripping your arms and shaking you.

“Jesus, what?” You jostled, breaking out of her grip and flipping her off. “You’re so damn nosy, were you listening the entire time?”

She ignored you.

“Don’t ‘what’ me! Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington was flirting with you! He asked for your number!”

“It’s not like that Claire, are you joking? He wanted help with a scarf, he’s hopeless. It’s like overtime with no pay.” You said lightly, shoving aside the hopeful stirrings Claire was riling up. Steve was, at least at some point, one of the most sought after guys in Hawkins. It was stupid to even hope that he was interested in you. You were no Nancy Wheeler, not even close.

“Babe.” Claire giggled, a knowing grin on her lips as she took your hands and patted them. “He’s making a scarf in July?”

You shook your head, yanking your hands away from her grip and ducking past her to return to the counter before she could see the stupid smile spreading over your face, “It’s probably just some practice before Christmas or something!”

“He didn’t buy anything!” She sing-songed from the aisle.

Your face burned hot.

Safety Pins

A small part of you wondered if Steve would even remember the conversation at all. In the days after he appeared in the store, blatantly lying about making a scarf on the hottest day of the year, you convinced yourself that you’d made up the entire ridiculous interaction in your head, and then the phone finally rang.

The first time was two days after he’d come to the store (not that you’d been waiting), and you forced yourself to wait for three rings before picking up. You were desperate to seem casual, like you totally hadn’t been sitting right next to the extension every night since, an equal mix of desperate and curious, running through everything you could possibly say if he ever called.

“Hello?” Strong start.

“Hey, it’s Steve.” he paused, like he was waiting for you to say something before continuing, “I...bet you wanna know why I’m calling?” The way he said it like he wasn’t even sure himself had you biting back a laugh. This was clearly a golden opportunity to mess with him, and who were you to deny such a gift?

“It’s not about the scarf?” You asked in mock surprise. “And here I thought it was so important.”

He groaned, sounding embarrassed, but not at all surprised you’d already caught him out. “You’re worse than Dustin. Have you always been this sarcastic?”

“Who’s Dustin?”

“Annoying kid I babysit.” His voice was full of fondness despite his words, and you smiled to yourself, heart squeezing. “He’d love you, I bet.”

“Don’t try and be cute and change the subject. Are you going to tell me why you lied about making a scarf in July??”

“Maybe I just wanted to talk to the pretty girl working there. Is that so bad?” The smile in his voice was unmistakable, even if there was a slight shake of nerves.

Biting your lip to try to contain your giddiness, you hummed. “Maybe you should have gotten her number then, I don’t play wing man.” Even though you were joking, there was a thorn of truth in it. Claire was pretty and social, and it wasn’t uncommon for guys to come into the store just to hit on her. Steve huffed, clearly not amused with you dancing around the obvious.

“You’re hilarious.” he deadpanned, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“And your plan was to stand there and look pathetically lost until I came to help you?”

“Worked, didn’t it?” His smug tone shut you up, rolling your eyes silently as he continued, “I actually wanted to ask you out.” he said it so casually it almost didn’t register with you, but he didn’t keep talking, just sat in silence and waited for you to catch up. His patience made your stomach twist in the best way.

“Like a date?” You finally asked, slow and disbelieving.

“Yes, like a date. Are you just trying to avoid answering me?” You sort of were. It didn’t seem real, despite all the signs, despite Claire grabbing your hand and winking at you when she left, saying Tell Harrington I said hi when he calls!

It just didn’t make sense. Unless…

“Are you going to Carrie me?”

“What?” He scoffed, far away from the receiver like he’d pulled the phone away from his ear in shock.

“I think it’s a simple question, Steve.”

“No! Where would I even get a bucket of pig's blood?” His warm voice was indignant, and you giggled, could imagine his furrowed brows and slight pout perfectly on the other end of the phone. You were grateful that for now he didn’t seem to be pushing for an answer, letting you circle around the topic. As much as you wanted to agree, to toss yourself into the fantasy you’d cultivated for years in highschool, you didn’t want to make this easy for him, like so many other girls in Hawkins.

A little selfishly, you wanted to be a girl he wanted enough to work for. Hopefully, he would. Otherwise, you were about to make the stupidest decision of your life.

Sighing softly and shaking your head like he could see it, you breathed out, “I dunno… I’m going to need a bit more convincing, Harrington.” You prayed he heard the subtle challenge in the words, and you knew he did when he responded, confidence suddenly so apparent through the phone you wondered why he had seemed so nervous before.

“I can do that, Sweetheart.”

You were never more grateful you had begged your parents for your own extension in high school, because after that first conversation, Steve called almost every day. It was endearing, how eager he seemed to talk to you, stealing fifteen minutes at work ‘just to hear your voice’, keeping you up late to gently pester you about taking you out.

Just one date, he’d say teasingly, and then you’ll be the one asking, Sweetheart. The nickname had stuck since the first call, and it warmed you to your core every time he said it. you knew from the moment he breathed it into the receiver that you would eventually agree to whatever he wanted.

It took him a few weeks of talking and some surprise visits at work (Much to Claire’s delight), but you finally agreed one afternoon, and the happiness radiating off of him while he walked out of the store made you wish you hadn’t waited so long.

Seam Allowance

It was only a few days before your first date excitement wore off, being replaced with bone deep anxiety and a feeling that you were drawn tight with tension, like a rubber band that might snap.

Claire came over hours before the date to help you get ready, bursting with excitement and about a dozen ‘I-told-you-so’s’, and now you were both sitting on your bed sorting through your jewelry; she was wearing your pajama pants and an old shirt from middle-school, an amusing contrast to your perfectly pinned hair and high heels.

“You’re coming back tonight, right?” she asked, holding a pair of golden hoops up to your skin before wrinkling her nose and putting them back into the box.

“Duh. Where else would I go?” It was a system you’d both made up high school, and one you’d never strayed from. If one of you went on a first date the other would wait at her house, to make sure she came home safe and also to get all of the gossip as soon as the date was over. Claire used it much more often than you, but she still grinned, waggling her eyebrows at you and whistling a low note like you were naughty teenagers again.

“I dunno, Babe, you look gorgeous. Harrington might wanna see the inside seam of that dress.” She lowered her voice in an attempt to sound sensual, leaning in close while you shoved her away, scoffing at her terrible innuendo. The dress was one of her favorites, something you’d bought at a thrift store and altered yourself the summer you’d both graduated. It was bright and flowy, the pink silk draping to your mid-thigh, a mix of sweet and sexy that you’d started wearing after high school, away from prying eyes and insults.

The irony of wearing it to a date with King Steve was not lost on you.

“Please,” you huffed, looking away with the excuse of checking a necklace in the mirror, tossing it back in the pile without much thought, “he already knows what I look like, the dress won’t fool him.” Claire frowned, her playful mood dissolved.

“What do you mean by that?”

Shaking your head, you murmured, “I mean, he already knows what I look like…how I looked in high school,” you cringed, shaking your head, “not all pretty and perfect. Not thin. I feel like I might be trying too hard. Being tricky.” The words sat like acid in your mouth, but Claire instantly threw her arms around you in a hug, laughing a little. It got to you more than it should have.

“Are you laughing at me?! I bare my soul to you, and you’re laughing!”

“Yes!” she admitted, still giggling even as she pulled away to look at you again. “You’re being stupid. He knows how you look normally. He knows how you looked in high school. So what? He still asked you out.” she poked your chest with each word, speaking over you every time you tried to interrupt. “The only thing that’s going to happen is that he’s going to see you looking pretty, not tricky, drool all over himself, and be like, ‘Ooh, Baby, you’re so beautiful and perfect let’s get marr-’”

Clapping a hand over her mouth to stop her terrible imitation of Steve, you couldn’t contain your laughter, shaking your head at her. Claire was always your biggest supporter and cheerleader, and she always seemed to know exactly what to say when you needed it, even if it was stupid and corny and probably not true. You pulled your hand away when she calmed, and you smiled at her, grateful. She smiled back.

“You know, you’re constantly saying Steve isn’t who he used to be. You always forget that you’re not the same girl either.” She winked, pressing a pair of rose gold and pearl earrings into your hand. “These are the ones, by the way. I can feel it.” You swallowed, a ball of emotion and affection suddenly welling up in your throat, Sticky sweet.

Is this what having a sister feels like?

The doorbell rang before you could say anything, and Claire grabbed your purse while you rushed to put the earrings in. She looked you over one last time, nodding her enthusiastic approval and you thanked whatever God was out there that you had her support while you tried to ignore the tears pricking your eyes. She hugged you quickly and firmly, whispering “Go get ‘em, tiger.” and ushering you down the stairs.

—

Steve guided you through the crowded diner with a hand on your lower back, following the hostess closely. The gesture was unfamiliar, embarrassingly intimate in such a public place but also comforting, so you didn’t say anything, just let the heat of his palm burn into your skin until he pulled your chair out for you, always the gentleman.

You felt out of place as you sat down; The bright, tacky colors of the diner contrasted harshly with the soft pastels and curves of your clothes, and your anxiety licked fire-hot up your throat, feeling at once too overdressed and not good enough. Steve noticed as soon as he sat down, but he had enough sense to wait until the waitress was gone, reaching across the table slowly to take your hand. He gave you space to pull away, and when you didn’t, he rewarded you with a grin, the flicker of nerves in his face smoothed over with boyish charm.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t take you somewhere a little nicer…” He gestured to the full tables, but turned back to you with a hopeful glint in his eye. “But I’m really happy you agreed to come.” he squeezed your hand, looking up into your face to gauge your reaction. He must have found what he was looking for because he relaxed completely, although he didn’t let go of your hand on the table. You didn’t mind. “You look amazing, by the way. Have I told you that tonight?”

He did tell you, once at your doorstep, at least two times in the car, and now here. Even if he hadn’t, you could tell just by the way his eyes had trailed up your legs when you walked out onto your porch, mapping out the soft expanse of your exposed thigh while you climbed into his car, the way his gaze slightly heated on your naked shoulders. It was pretty obvious what he thought.

Still, you rolled your eyes playfully, a doubtful smile spreading across your face. “Only a million times.”

“And I’ll say it a million more.” His tone was casual, but you could hear something soft and intense in it, like he knew you didn’t believe him and he was desperate to prove you wrong. “You’re gorgeous. A stunner.”

“Stop.”

“Total knockout. What’re you doing on a date with a guy like me?” He used his free hand and jerked his thumb into his chest, eyes sharp and mischievous, but then he looked away, just for a moment, like he was actually nervous about your answer. Concern unfurled in your chest in an instant, and you leaned forward, squeezing his hand tighter than he had yours.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmured, running your thumb over his knuckles. As much as you wanted to recite terrible poetry to him, say he was Eros himself, carved of flesh instead of stone by the Great Masters, tell him how often you’d listened to him whisper over the phone late at night these past weeks, twisting the cord around your finger and imagining drawing constellations between his beauty marks with your fingertips, it felt like too much for a first date, in a loud diner where anyone could hear, so you said the first thing you could think of. you hoped it had the same effect on Steve either way.

His smile threatened to consume his face, his eyes bright half moons as he beamed at you. “Yeah? Beautiful?” He tossed his hair arrogantly, pulling his hand away from yours to run his fingers through the silken strands, wrists and forearms flexing. Your mouth went dry and it was the best you could do to nod dumbly, trying desperately to grasp a coherent thought.

“Sorry, that was weird.” You shook your head as if to clear your thoughts. “Beautiful is a weird word. Handsome?” You tried, but you were dissatisfied. Handsome didn’t feel like enough, too rough around the edges to include Steve, with his sweet smiles and stupid jokes. It wasn’t enough. Steve was shaking his head too, the moment you’d started backtracking.

“No, no,'' he leaned back, subtly gesturing his head to warn you the waitress was approaching behind you, his wild grin dimming down into something softer and more vulnerable. “Beautiful is… no one’s ever called me that before. You’re my first.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, like the innuendo wasn’t obvious enough, and that molten rush of affection returned, warmth spreading from your face to your sternum; then you processed what he’d said before that, and you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

How could someone like Steve go so long without being called beautiful?

“That’s insane,” then, after a second, “You really are.” Before you could stop yourself. You bit your lip in embarrassment, and his eyes dropped to follow the action, just a flicker before looking back. He took your hand again, rubbing the pad of his thumb across your knuckles soothingly, but his eyes didn’t leave your face once.

“So are you.” The way he was looking at you made you want to believe it, like he was in awe of you, studying your features like he was committing them to memory. You felt warm under his gaze, but before you could make a snarky comment and ease some of your anxiety, the waitress was at your table, and Steve wasn’t looking at you anymore.

You had expected to completely clam up over dinner, but Steve kept you distracted and laughing the entire time, and you were having too much fun to worry about if he thought you were eating too much or trying too hard. You knew from the rumors he was always charming, girls chased him for years when you were younger, but having the full force of it directed on you was something you'd never experienced before. You could see why he had been popular. Steve actually listened when you talked, like he was interested in you. It was depressingly refreshing.

You’d been telling him a story about work, offhandedly mentioning a top you were making when he stopped your story in its tracks. “So wait, you make your own clothes?” He looked pleasantly surprised.

“I mean, kinda. Not all of them. I make some of them. They don’t make cute clothes in my size so…” You shrugged it off like it didn’t matter, eyes on your plate, trying to ignore the admiration in his gaze as his jaw dropped. His eyes followed the slope of your shoulders to the dresses thin straps, one having fallen half down without you noticing. “I do it myself. Didn’t you know this when you asked for my help in the store?”

“Did you make this one?” Steve’s voice was almost reverent when he brought up your dress, ignoring your snark completely. He reached one hand towards you, impossibly delicate fingers sliding the strap back up your arm and into place. It must have only been a second before he was leaning back in his chair and popping a French fry into his mouth, but you felt like your world had stopped. You searched your cloudy brain for the answer to his question. You barely remembered what he asked.

“I altered it, yeah.” The only way you could describe the look on his face was dazzled, and you bit your lip, fingers itching to reach out and trace the planes of his face with your hands. You wanted him to look at you like this forever, like you were ethereal and special; you settled instead for shyly turning away. First date and all.

“You’re crazy talented. I was always thinking about where you got all your pretty little outfits, then I find out you make them?” Your heart squeezed at the idea of him, sitting in his car, or at home, thinking about the clothes you wore, wondering where you got them and keeping notes of your outfits; choosing a favorite. He shook his head in disbelief, eyes meeting yours again in cowed respect. “You’re really something.” And you knew he meant it.

“Yeah, well… you ever need something fitted, call me.” You winked, not catching the innuendo until Steve was already pouncing, smile turned wicked.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Oh my God, You’re such a perv.” You giggled, the happy glint in his eyes more than worth your slight embarrassment at the joke.

“I’m not hearing a no…”

“I’m hearing the complaints the mothers in the diner are filing against us right now…” you hummed, and Steve grimaced, glancing around while you admired the worry lines in his forehead, fighting the urge to lean over and smooth them with your thumb.

“Thank God the check already came then. Let’s get outta here.” He stood up while you laughed at him, already digging in his pockets for his wallet. You grabbed your purse and slid out of your chair, scrambling to find your own, wondering if he’d wanted you to offer to cover anything.

“I can pay for half-“

“Don’t even think about it.” He tossed a few bills on the table, sounding offended you had even offered. You let it go, deciding to save yourself the bickering since you knew he’d never let you pay. Steve’s hand found the small of your back again as he led you out, like it was just instinct, being protective. The thought sent jolts down your spine.

The diner had grown significantly quieter since you’d both arrived, but there were still a decent amount of full tables, and you appreciated the sudden wall of quiet when you both stepped outside. Evening had bled into night in the hours you’d spent with Steve, the hazy sun now completely gone, leaving behind a surprising chill despite the season.

You rubbed your arms quickly, trying to acclimate to the sudden cold, and of course, Steve noticed immediately. Even though you argued, since you would only be outside for as long as it took to walk to his car and get in, he still draped his leather overcoat over your shoulders, and when you caught a whiff of his cologne, and him underneath, you stopped complaining. The leather was soft from use, and you were careful not to scratch it with your nails while you gripped the lapels to keep it around your shoulders.

“Why do you even have a jacket? It was pretty warm earlier.” You asked, watching him fumble in his back pockets for his keys. He glanced at you for a second and the realization hit you. “You brought it just in case? For me?”

Smiling guiltily, he unlocked the doors. “Hey, don’t ever say Steve Harrington isn’t a romantic.”

Watching him walk around the car just to open your door for you, jogging so you wouldn’t open it yourself, you just shook your head. “How could I?” you breathed, and you knew there were obvious hearts in your eyes.

Steve didn’t comment, but you could see the smug look on his face when he helped you into the car-for a wild second you thought about kissing it off of him, he was just so pretty- but you waited until he climbed into the driver's seat to speak again, staring out the front window while he put the keys in the ignition.

“Next time, you’ll be wearing my jacket, Harrington.” You promised; something about the dark and quiet of the night outside made you drop your voice, more heated than you intended, and the blush that rose to his ears at your words made your chest swell with pride.

Steve bounced back to being perfect and charming, and for the entire drive home, he held your hand in his on the center console, a satisfied smile on his face.

The ride back was short, and too soon Steve was in your driveway, turning the car off, the only light coming from your old, orange porch bulb. He cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen when you pulled up.

“Let me walk you to the door.” It wasn’t a question; he was already unbuckling his seat belt and jumping out to open your door again. A part of you wanted to hop out before he could, just to tease him about how far he was going, but watching him jog around the front of the car just to impress you was far more rewarding. He offered you his hand wordlessly and you took it, letting him pull you out of the car.

Standing outside of your door, bathed in the warm flickering light, Steve was too pretty to look at, even though you wanted to burn the memory in your head. His skin looked tan and soft, brown eyes almost black in the shadow. You looked at your feet, toeing your heels into the mat under them.

“I had fun tonight, Sweetheart.” He says carefully, gauging your reaction, and you smile shyly, glancing back up at him. He’s not smiling, but he looks open and earnest. He’s waiting for you to respond, you realize, so you do.

“So did I.” You breathe, and his lip twitches. He takes a step towards you and you don’t move back, letting him start to slowly crowd your space on the porch. “Even if those kids wouldn’t shut up for like 30 minutes.” You joke, and he laughs, a short huff through his nose that stops as soon as it starts.

“Next time, we’ll go somewhere quieter, promise.” Despite his response to your ‘next time’ quip earlier, you had been dreading the chance that this was a one time thing, that he was being polite and a good date and after this he was going to realize you weren’t a cheap lay because of your weight, or get cold feet, exactly the way most of your pathetic romances ended. The idea that he wanted to see you again was unfamiliar and exciting.

“Next time?” Your voice was soft and vulnerable, and Steve looked at you like you were crazy.

“How else am I going to steal that jacket from you?” He took another step, and you had to crane your neck to look up at his serious expression. One of his hands came up, hesitating before resting delicately on your face, his calloused thumb rubbing soothing lines over your cheek. “I’m committed to the idea, now.”

You hummed, closing your eyes as he continued to ghost his fingers over your features. The feeling was indescribable. “Oh well, you’ll need it when I never give this one back.” You pulled the lapels of his jacket again, and instead of responding he moved his hand from your jaw to the nape of your neck, gently guiding you towards him.

You panicked, suddenly unsure if you were even ready for a simple goodnight kiss, let alone a make out session on your porch, but he was impossibly slow and gentle while he pulled you towards him, and you opened your eyes when you felt his lips in your hair, one hand on the curve of your neck and the other rubbing soothing circles into your soft hip. He pulled away just enough to murmur into your hairline, lips indulgent and sweet,

“You can take whatever you want, pretty girl.” he sounded hoarse and wanting, and it nearly took your breath away. All of your willpower -and remembering your best friend was still upstairs, waiting- was barely enough to convince you to untangle yourself from him, but you did. He kissed your forehead one more time before finally letting you slip inside, still wrapped snugly in his coat. “I’ll call you.” He said gently as you crossed the threshold. You giggled.

“Yeah, I know.”

Watching his car make its way down the street from your bedroom window, Claire shutting off the lights and settling in for the nights gossip session, you knew all you’d have taken was him.

#steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #renrites #xreader #plus size reader #fem reader #seamstress

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sineala · 8 months

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Five fic self rec meme!

Tagged by @nostalgicatsea approximately two weeks ago. I am not entirely sure what the parameters of this meme are but I think it might just be reccing five fics of mine that I like. I currently have 302 stories on AO3, so sifting through the contenders here was challenging. I tried to stick to shorter work of mine. This is all Marvel fic because that's what I've written the most of, because I feel like I've become a better writer over the years, and because I decided that the PWP I wrote in The Eagle fandom in Latin might have, uh, limited appeal.

All-Time Low (Marvel 616, Steve/Tony, 12,000 words, Explicit.)

You know how sometimes you write a story that ends up being exactly the story you wanted to tell? You get it down on the page and somehow it's exactly the way you wanted it to be in your head? The words just come out of you easy and fast and you're in the zone the entire time? (Yes, I know the term is actually "flow state.") And, sure, maybe it still needs some editing, but writing it is just this extremely good experience where you don't ever stop and wonder how any of it should go and all the words are just there. You know the thing I mean? I only have a couple stories that happened like this, but this one is one of them. I don't have much memory of actually writing this one, which is how that goes; I remember that I got the prompt and I knew what I wanted to write and then somehow this entire thing happened.

It was actually written for one of Kiyaar's prompts, which was that Tony should be sleeping with men for money during the second drinking arc and Steve should find out and there should be "shame and humiliation and tears." I looked at it and I thought, oh, I got this. The element of Steve then sleeping with Tony after he finds this out, which is a big part of the story, was actually not part of the original prompt, which I don't think even occurred to me until after Ki read the story and said she liked that development that I'd come up with that part myself. My brain was just like, hey, I know exactly how this story goes. Never even crossed my mind to do anything else.

I keep putting off writing the fix-it sequels -- I have Plans for how the blizzard goes in this universe -- because I am afraid I won't be able to make them as good as the original story.

The Libertine (Marvel Ultimates, Steve/Tony, 6,000 words, Explicit.)

One day, I was just sitting there minding my own business and I thought, "You know what? Ults began in the early 2000s and therefore early-canon Ults Tony would absolutely have self-identified as a metrosexual," and then I thought, "Goddammit, I guess I have to write this story now."

I know that this one is in most ways a pretty standard first-time getting-together story but I thought it would be delightful to make Steve and Tony's roles in it opposite from what the prototypical Ults Steve/Tony story would do. So Tony here is like "actually, no, I'm not gay, I'm just metrosexual... oh shit, wait, I think I'm actually pretty gay after all" and Steve is the guy who spent World War II sleeping with every guy he could find. In the story, neither of them expect this about the other one, and I think fandom doesn't either.

I am also weirdly proud of thinking up the title of this story because "libertine" is a word you would probably want to apply to Ults Tony and yet Steve, the Sentinel of Liberty, ends up claiming basically every other liberty-related word, for obvious reasons. And maybe here he gets this one too.

(Incidentally, reading through the See Also section of the Wikipedia entry on "libertine" is a trip I think you should all take. Wow.)

The Longing and Yearning (Bullet Points. Steve/Tony, 13,000 words, Explicit.)

This is also a pretty standard first-time story but it's also my attempt to make Bullet Points fandom happen, which I think pretty much worked, so I'm pretty happy about that. It's a very small continuity, but it's a Steve/Tony thing now!

Steve and Tony never actually meet in canon and also Steve dies halfway through the series, but I had a lot of fun imagining what they might be like together. It was interesting to get to write Tony hero-worshipping a much older Steve, who was Iron Man and had basically all the physical trauma Tony usually gets from being Iron Man, and Tony wanting to be Iron Man because of Steve being Iron Man. Which is, you know, not usually how Steve/Tony goes. I also had a lot of fun furnishing Steve's 1950s-1960s house for him (Gwyn helped me out a lot with this while betaing) and writing Steve and Tony into a world of slightly vintage US government employee homophobia in the age of the Red Scare, which I don't usually get to do in Avengers fic although it occurs to me now that I actually really could have been doing this all along in 616 early canon.

Look After Your Heart (Marvel 616, Steve/Tony, 19,000 words, Mature.)

Last week, I remembered I'd written this when someone was asking for recs of stories where Tony's loneliness plays a major role and I ended up describing this one as "loneliness is Tony's villain origin story." I hadn't thought about it in years and I reread it and was like, you know, this wasn't half-bad.

This has not been one of my most popular Steve/Tony works, I think because the tags and summary make it look like a real downer -- which, okay, yeah, it kind of is -- but I would like to point out that it actually has a happy ending. I wish to stress this. Happy Steve/Tony ending. I promise. You just take a trip through hell to get there.

So this is an AU where time bullets don't exist and when Steve gets shot at the end of Civil War, he dies and stays dead. Tony finds this out when he wakes up after World's Most Wanted, doesn't remember the past couple years of his life, and discovers that Steve is now dead. He experiences a lot of grief. So this is a canon-divergent AU running through the events of Avengers v4 and Hickmanvengers up through Superior Iron Man, in which we all get to find out exactly how far off the rails Tony can go when he continues not to have Steve around to keep him sane, functional, heroic, or sober.

This fic is also interesting as a historical document, because it's one of my earlier stories in the fandom. I actually wrote it when Hickmanvengers was still going, before Time Runs Out happened, and even before Superior Iron Man happened. The last thing in here that was based in canon is the Great Society incursion. At this point, we knew that Tony was going to be Superior but we didn't know how it was going to happen, what it was going to be like, or how Hickman's run was going to end. So I took a whole bunch of guesses, and I honestly like a few of them better than what we actually got.

Smell Like I Sound (Marvel Adventures: Avengers, Carol/Jess, 7,000 words, Explicit.)

This is a Carol/Jess fic with background Steve/Tony. Look, I didn't promise they were all going to be Steve/Tony. This is set in MA:A, mostly because I needed a canon fairly close to 616 where Carol and Jess hadn't canonically met, and Jess does exist in MA:IM. I wanted to tackle an issue I hadn't really seen explored much in Carol/Jess fic, which was "how do Carol and Jess actually get together if Jess's pheromones uncontrollably don't have good effects on women?" because that seems like it would be bad. (I mean, it would also be bad if Jess's pheromones did uncontrollably have good effects on women, but that would be a different story.)

(Because comics are gonna comics, I'm pretty sure that MA: IM Jess's pheromones do have negative effects on women. This is not necessarily the case in 616. We actually found out a couple years ago in 616 that Jess can in fact pheromone women in the fun way, which, yes, I do have a fic outlined based on this. You bet I do. I just have not yet written it yet.)

I don't write a whole lot of femslash, which in this fandom is partly due to The Carol/Jess Troll (thanks, dude) and it's partly because I have a femslash problem I've never figured out how to consistently solve, which is that I can't manage to write a whole lot of f/f that has the same kind of stakes and feelings and tropey idficcy goodness as the m/m that I like to write. I can't really even articulate the problem in a useful way; I just try writing f/f and then I read it back and mostly it's not the thing I like because what I end up writing just doesn't seem exciting to me. And I know it's possible for me to write the thing I like because this one is the thing I like! I did it here! It's just not a trick I can pull off consistently. But, anyway, this one was fun. I think I did this one right.

Not sure who has done this meme, but I'm gonna tag @blossomsinthemist and @isozyme.

#posts i actually wrote

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runwayrunway · 10 months

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No. 16 - SAS (Scandinavian Airlines System)

I mentioned this was coming beforehand. Today we’re diving into a livery that has a lot more going on than you might think at first glance, a haunting portrait of what Lufthansa’s livery wants to be - the livery of the only airline to be mentioned in more or less every YTP ever made, SAS!

This isn't actually the modern livery, sorry. I'm a fraud. This is an anachronistic 2007 Avro RJ that apparently even back then had a livery basically all but identical to the modern one save for the lack of the SAS text. It still bodies Lufthansa and then some. I just had to find a place to slide it in because it's a very funny image that I love very much.

Legally known by the extremely catchy name “Scandinavian Airlines System Denmark-Norway-Sweden”, SAS was founded in 1946 as a consortium of the national carriers of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. This makes it among the very few airlines to currently serve as the flag carrier of multiple countries.

It’s been around for nearly 80 years, but it’s only had four liveries in that time. I mention these because I think it’s worth contrasting with Lufthansa, which bled off traits over the decades until it was nothing but a dry husk. Unlike the slowly putrefying decrepit corpse which is Lufthansa, SAS is a young adult trying to find her identity who can't stop dyeing her hair different colors and deciding she hates it. Let's talk about those phases, and where we ended up at the end of it all.

1946 - The Original

image: Bene Robió

This picture is of a modern plane, OY-KBO “Christian Valdemar Viking” (all SAS planes have names ending in ‘Viking’) wearing a retro livery, but it contains the only part of SAS’s original livery of any interest at all.

If we zoom in we can take a look at the end of the cheatline, where it morphs into the figurehead of a Viking longship. This is a nifty little touch that represents their national identity and is itself sleek and nicely designed.

And it looks even better on the 747.

It’s also the only notable thing about this old livery, so it’s not worth lingering on for too long. I thought it was worth mentioning because it's neat, but this livery was literally adopted when they very first began flying - in 1946! At that point it was pretty rare to see airlines have any livery at all aside from their name painted on bare metal. This was actually above and beyond for the time.

image: towpilot

It didn't look half bad on the DC-3, either. This was a consistently nice style and for its era I would say it was pretty good. But are we judging by the standards of the time? No.

So, for the time I would probably have given it a high grade. But it is not the time.

So I am giving it a C-.

There are still things to like about the longship design, don't get me wrong. But there is just literally nothing else going on, and it's not enough to have the only piece of your livery that's actually identifiable be so small and easy to miss.

1983 - Belly Stripes

image: Lars Wahlstrom

In 1983 they swapped to this livery, commonly known as “belly stripes”, designed by the iconic Landor Associates, prolific purveyors of liveries. It’s a pretty abrupt change, isn’t it? I like this livery, actually. It’s nice, if understated. The stripes are specifically the colors of the Norwegian, Swedish, and Danish flags. Apparently they worried the figurehead would be hard to understand (fair) and the association with Vikings might be bad optics (yet they continued to name their planes this way).

Like I said, it’s nice. It’s fine.

This, like the original livery, is something that can be evaluated by modern standards or by those of its time. In 1983 majority-white liveries weren’t as ubiquitous as they are now and planes still frequently had cheatlines and all-over color and even bare metal fuselages so the bare white plane with the tiny bit of color and the nice font was actually something of a statement. Even by modern standards it’s executed a lot nicer than many similar liveries, but the market is just so saturated that it only really works in the context of its time, I think. Having a plane be nearly all white is no longer an artistic choice. It's a non-choice. And that's the world I live in, and that has to color how I look at this. But all the same...I can't tear myself away from it. In photographs from the time it is as pristine as newly fallen snow.

So I'm giving it a B.

I like the belly stripes livery. It's a neat and unique way of showcasing the flags. It's cleanly executed. I like that the stripes are diagonal instead of straight and that they're aligned with the letters, which are also in a very nice typeface. I just wish it existed in a less Eurowhite-saturated environment where it could shine to its fullest.

I somehow never noticed how adorably stubby the pre -30 DC-9 models were. Thankfully this has been remedied. Just look at her. Like a really round bird hopping through the air.

I think it’s interesting how, while Lufthansa slowly lost creative interest but only ever became a different design altogether in a sort of Ship of Theseus way, SAS fully overhauled their livery multiple times. They’re definitely trying to find something that works for them, regardless of the cost. They refuse to rest on their laurels. I admire that mindset, and it’s not ended badly so far.

And then it was 1998.

If you look very closely you can see something horrible in the distance.

No, okay. It can't be as bad as you're making it out to be, you say. And you are a fool for saying this.

Oh no. Oh no. Sweetheart, what happened to you?

So, this is really really bad. Really really really bad. This looks like it was designed with the same philosophy I used to design original characters in middle school - oh, I like this color, let me add it without considering the overall balance or composition. This design was made by people who were paid to make it.

This has almost all the features I hate most in a livery, all the way up to the abrupt color transition at the tailfin, but an additional one: that absolute atrocity right at the front. If you’re confused what I’m referring to, I don’t blame you - they made it nearly invisible. If you squint very hard, though, you can see ‘SCANDINAVIAN’ above the windows and ‘AIRLINES’ below it, completely illegible due to being painted in a silver color barely darker than the main fuselage itself.

It looks amazingly funny with rear-mounted engines, though. That's her fanny pack.

All I can really say is: why. Why did you do this? Why.

I am actually somewhat ashamed of how little I noticed this when out in the wild. It’s a testament to the sheer saturation of mostly plain liveries with a hint of red and/or blue that this monstrosity blended into the background and evaded my notice. (And in my defense I’ve never been to one of their focus cities so sightings have only been in passing.)

This might sound harsh, but I'm about to say this and stand by it. Here is a better SAS livery from the same time period.

With the engine covers on it looks like one of those plastic tips they put on toy pistols. Also, doesn't keeping the red engine caps defeat the purpose if you also have red engines, since they're meant to be clearly visible so you don't accidentally try to use the plane with them on? Do they not have a different color available for red engined freaks? Many questions.

That's right, SAS's 1998-2019 livery fails the Star Alliance Test!

What is the Star Alliance Test, you ask? It's very simple. Star Alliance is an airline alliance - basically a club for the world's most elite carriers to hang out in and codeshare. The three major alliances all have special liveries that they might have a couple planes from each of their members wear.

I hate alliance liveries. I think airline alliances should be represented by a little symbol on the airline's standard livery, not the other way around. I would like to know what airline this plane is from before I know if it's a member of OneWorld or SkyTeam. And if I need to know that they usually have a symbol for the alliance somewhere on the plane anyway.

The Star Alliance logo on a SAS ATR 72, directly behind the cockpit window and in front of the door. If you really squint you can even see the words 'Star Alliance' written underneath it.

Star Alliance is my least favorite. SkyTeam's livery actually looks pretty good. OneWorld's is the ugliest at base, but it lets the airline keep some of its branding at the back of the plane, which makes me hate it less. So Star Alliance loses by default. (Let me know if you'd like a full review for these, though.)

The Star Alliance Test has exactly one question. Would I prefer that all this airline's planes were forcibly repainted into Star Alliance liveries instead of allowed to remain in their current state?

In this case, yes. I very much would. And that means there's only one grade I can give to this livery.

F. See me after class.

That's right. Fly away. Ideally to get repainted in something more presentable.

The 2019 Overhaul

(To clarify, when I compared Lufthansa to SAS in my post about them I did not want to imply that they literally copied SAS - their revised livery obviously came out a year earlier, and they were definitely developed privately around the same time to keep up with modernized trends surrounding livery - they’re just similar safe, non-revolutionary concepts that SAS executes a lot better.)

I don’t normally buy the whole ‘the darkness must come before the light’ line of thinking, but SAS clearly does. Because even here, in this abomination, are the building blocks for what would become something reasonably decent. And, in 2019, SAS made that happen.

Those are engine covers, by the way. There's no red on the engines. There's actually a tasteful silver trim under there.

So, this is what we've achieved. At first glance, it looks pretty similar to Lufthansa, but the closer you examine it the clearer the differences become.

First, the white fuselage. Well, actually, that’s not the case for SAS. It looks white in bright sunlight, but it’s actually an off-white beige (Pantone 9083C). You can see that in this picture of an SAS plane parked next to a SWISS plane, and when you put a bunch of Scandinavians in crisp white shirts in front of it.

image source (left): Daniel Ross | image source (right): SAS

I mean, no, it’s not exactly neon pink or anything, but it’s still a noticeable change in tone relative to other planes, and that means it’s a decision someone made. And that makes me happy.

I think the world has begun to somewhat agree with me on the whole non-integrated-tail-colorblock being bad to look at, because SAS has also extended the stripe of blue down to loop under the rest of the fuselage. Honestly, if I were them I would have made it wider so it covered the full empennage on t-tail models, but that might make it look weird in its own way - I’m not here to design liveries, I’m here to complain about them. I just think it's still a bit too small to make the jet look fully balanced with the big SAS at the front.

The awful red engines have been replaced with a far more tasteful alternative - silver with a blue stripe at the front and silver trim on the very front edge. I like that a lot. No criticisms.

The silver text has been kept, but it’s been reduced from a bunch of small letters to just a very large SAS, which is a lot clearer even when in low contrast. It’s difficult to nail down my thoughts on this. Obviously it’s an improvement, and I wouldn’t want it to be removed entirely, and I’m not sure if a more solid, emphatic version, maybe in the same blue as the rest of the livery, would actually be better or not. I think I overall like the silver wordmark? As long as it’s not a really bad angle it’s visible enough, and it adds something a bit interesting. Even if it is illegible at least they also have the name on the tail. It probably helps that it’s only three letters long. Still, nobody is going to be confused about what airline this plane belongs to.

I think the wordmark looks its best on turboprops wearing the livery. I honestly feel like most good jet liveries look awkward on props and vice versa, but this transitions very well. Not many major airlines still fly props, and almost none of them adapt their liveries well to them, but the wordmark fills the space really nicely on the shorter fuselage of the ATR and the high wings break up the line in a way that looks pretty darn nice to me. More airlines need to fly props, and they need to take notes on how to make a livery work for them.

Aside from the too-small amount of blue, my one real outright complaint is the very small Noto Sans(?, unsure) ‘Scandinavian’ written on the engine nacelles. It feels pointless and looks out of place. It looks extra out of place because the rest of their livery is in Rotis semi-serif, and the combination really clashes. It’s a little baffling, because they certainly have the option of just using the SAS logo again - the only other place they use the full ‘Scandinavian’ is on the belly. My personal suggestion would be bringing back the longship figurehead for the engines, but that’s just me. It just looks more like a watermark than a design feature.

Look, I never said I loved the SAS livery, but someone clearly designed it. The implementation is still a little shaky in parts, as if the airline is regaining its footing after the red engine years, but it’s stumbling towards being good and it’s just short of the point where it can sit down and rest and reflect on its progress.

SAS gets an overall grade of C. Which is also what the GPA of the other three came out to, I think! My calculations are admittedly a bit improvised.

Makes Lufthansa look like chumps, though. I think we can all agree on that.

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squeiky · 2 years

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"Someone I'm supposed to remember."

"Sometimes I lay at night, thinking about you. All the time we've spent together, all the memories we've made together... I never want to forget it.. but I always do."

_______________________________

Artist's note:

This is more a vent per say, rather than a means of shipping, but due to the context and way I executed the drawing- I'm tagging this as sonadow.

There is an bit of a but of a rant/vent an ID and a bonus edit version of this drawing after the readmore. Feel free to skip whichever or.

(I titled them all so it easier to skip stuff. When scrolling fast)

ID:

[ID: A traditional pencil drawing; Text in the top reads: "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU CAN'T REMEMBER"

On the right and left side are drawings of sonic the hedgehog with his eye portion sketched out.

The left side has 4 drawings, one of sonic smirking with a fist, below that is a drawing of his shoes and next to it is a drawing of super sonic w/ 2 chaos emeralds. Below that is a grumpy sonic checking the watch on his arm.

On the right is a drawing of sonic, hands on hips with his back facing front. The one below that is of sonic laughing with his hand in his chest, then underneath that is sonic at a side angle, smiling whilst talking. Next to that is sonic having a toothy smirk, with a finger waggle as well.

Shadow the hedgehog is in the middle, both hands on the lower portion of his chest, with his quills (very messy) all extended outwards. Creases are all around him as his on a bed. There are 2 pillows on both sides of him. To the right of him are some earphones desgined for hedgehogs that has a headphone wire attached to it. (It's unplugged) and a book with a pencil ontop of it.

On the lower left of him (around the knees) is a phone, only a reflection of the screen shows as it's presumably off.

Shadow looking upwards, with a gazed, zoning out type expression. His identifiable scowl is no where to be seen.

Underneath all of that, are 2 comic panels.

The first one/ the one on the left is of shadow on lying his left side, with one arm over his torso while the other is tucked underneath his head (like a makeshift pillow.) His legs are also shown His, one over the other. His eyes are looking down, now the more iconic angry eyes.

A dark pillar of sorts is behind him, and to the side of that the text reads, " So then, Why".

The right panel is a close up of one of his eyes. It's pretty detailed and you can see some hints of fluff/small quills on his face as well as a bit of his big o'l hedgehog nose.

His iris has a drawing of supersonic reaching out towards one of his extended arms. There are stars around them, and sonic's eyes are still crossed out.

Text to the right of the eye read: "Are you so FAMILAIR?"

:End ID]

Bonus:

Still edited, but just a different version of the post above. It's a little less brighter, but it's more accurate to how the drawing actually looks irl:

Vent:

I never really understood how shadow gained his memories back.

This is coming from a personal level, but him struggling with these identity and memory issues always kind of stuck with me.

As someone who struggles with memory, it's really hard to trust what people say is true or not.

Someone recently told me they've known me for years, and I thought I only knew them for a few weeks.

Like, this is somebody I'm supposed to know. They're so familiar, yet to somehow their still a stranger.

It's shit like that, that always bugs me.

Then people tell me of these stories and things I went through, and it's like I'm listening to another person explain to me what my life was like. It just feels like I'm listening to someone read a storybook.

It's all so distant, beacuse I just can't really remember. I can't connect with my own self, and honestly I don't even know if should. Sometimes I question whether I should even try to learn my psst, or if it would even matter at all..

It makes it hard to trust people too. Cause there's liars out there, and when you've got memory problems it makes it easy for them to put stuff in your head.

(Always thinking about that just gives me way to much anxiety and makes it impossible for me to connect with people.. it's like I got eggshells for shoes.)

I try not to think about it too much, and just move on in life...but the feelings still there.

It just sucks.

I have a really good memory too...(I think?) beacuse when I can remember things its crisp and detailed. (Atleast..sometimes.)

Either than that, there's just entire gaps between my life I can't remember.

I have a freind who tells me about all my adventures I had with her. So I'm just here, lying down on my bed, contemplating all these memories I had with her.

All those memories I can't remember.

#vent #venting #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedghog #shadsoni #shasoni #sonic x shadow #shadow x sonic #camomiletae art #traditional art #drawing #memory problems

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glittervermin · 7 months

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will be interesting to see how the advent of more and more advanced AI art will affect sculpture... if it progresses at the rate it does, sculpture will be one of the final mediums where it can be certain a human hand was involved.* then even that will be whittled down to stranger and stranger mediums as 3d printers and other manufacturing tech develop.

i don't think it will completely destroy any art form- but it may push them all to offline spheres. people who value art as created solely by a human hand will have to resort to their own community and people they can individually trust and know to be real. this could be kind of amazing, taking art back to a place full of small and unique scenes and small but very involved real world audiences.

the internet becoming a dead feedback loop full of AI entities that are difficult to identify from real human's accounts may also destroy the drive to create for the sake of "likes", shares, and other empty internet points. might force people to return to making for the sake of satisfaction and craft, which i think social media has done vast damage to.

this might seem internet brained or whatever but it seems AI art is now at a point where it frequently takes me 30 seconds to realize it is AI. a year ago it was 1 second. AI made/enhanced video is developing quickly. the early gandbreeder stuff was genuinely pleasing to me and many others, and im starting to see people use current AI in ways that don't just simply irritate me. unless it hits some unexpected wall, AI art is coming, in huge waves.

it feels good to be a sculptor in the face of this, and its a good time to learn how your art exists without the internet- performance nights, open mics, local clubs, submitting your work to local galleries or even just leaving it places people can find it. craft nights, drawing dates, poetry workshops with your friends( blech i know but ... hey) i feel like we should return our work to the real world for a head start on when this becomes essential.

also its just more fun that way haha

controversially im not even against AI art despite how frightening it is to me. im seeing interesting things done with it and being outraged against the march of technology feels pointless. it is really tragic the people with the most control over it are evil, but that isnt a trait unique to ai art. AIs influences over other things might destroy society ofc though. lol. but why distress myself arguing with a tsunami

*no, painting,drawing,etc will not be safe, it is so easy to machinate brushstrokes etc. same for pretty much any other physical medium you think of, eventually even most sculpture. and obv several forms of sculpture will be immediately replicable w combined AI and 3d printing. this is why i predict art communities relying on knowing the artists a little personally as well

*also AI / the internet / social media might implode in some way or hit a wall we can't even imagine yet which would conveniently prevent any of this. im also psychoposting bc i had coffee for the first time in weeks.

*pls dont flame me for asinine AI thought sharing or give me some long ass response PLS HAHA im venting not debating

in short my passion is that you know your whole experience of making or experiencing art should not be online. find / make / share in the real world. (she said, onlinely )

#phew had to get that off my chest

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the-littlest-kojin · 1 year

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List Of My Characters, Haphazardly Sorted

The following page will be a list of all of the characters I am open to being approached about for RP, questions, or interactions, divided into categories to try to make the list easier to sort through.

First, my main!

Shio - Female - Identifies as a Kojin, Warrior of Light. My canon WoL. All over my blog. She’s snarky, strong, studies the cultures and languages of everywhere she meets, always eager to make friends and only has a harsh word when she feels taken advantage of. Accordingly, dislikes the Scions, who she feels take advantage of her. Loves fishing.

Further categories can be found beneath the read more! Not all of them have screens yet, but I will be adding more screens as my energy permits!

Basic Concept Characters - This category is for characters who are pretty basic, easy-access characters - ones that won’t require a huge amount of context or lore knowledge to grasp.

Conroy - Masculine, gender apathetic - Viera Archon of Aetherology, lives in Sharlayan. Very soft spoken, teaches people who can think "outside the box". Cannot cook. Has loving family.

Brilliant Caladium - Female - Roegadyn, adventurer. Blessed with the Echo but choosing not to overreach her limits in heroing. Does small scale jobs and tries to get other WoLs to relax and pace themselves. Jovial, friendly. Very fit.

Ava - Female - Viera brawler, adrenaline junky. Occasionally makes out with Sadu. Born in Rabanastre, was part of the Dalmascan Navy before Garlemald invaded. Has travelled the land since. Mainly wants to get in fights and find her family again.

Gologa - Male - Hrothgar soldier, was at Bozja when it got nuked, old and haggard and scarred. Can't use magic. Recently adopted a Garlean toddler. Very taciturn but very physical and practical.

Statera - Female - Miqo'te engineer, student of Conroy. Likes to tinker with machines in very reckless ways. Probably needs a few lectures on workplace safety. Very gung-ho, big hyperfocus energy.

Omikhle - Male - Lalafell, once was an infamously powerful black mage, made a deal with a demon for long life, now is a full time healer teaching students in Sharlayan. Brusque, rude, will set unruly students on fire.

Nith - Androgynous Agendered - Viera Ronin, wandering the land going where there are things to fight and teaching samurai arts to fellow travellers. Has no interest in politics, always interested in a drink and to hear tales of far off lands.

Ban - Male - Roegadyn ex-pirate, once cannoneer on the ship Thal's Mercy, now works a quiet life as an attendant at the Bokairo Inn. Very pragmatic, very rough spoken but ultimately kind in his recent years.

Gloyn - Feminine, gender apathetic - Viera botanist, was once a Warrior of Light but didn't like hurting people and so retired from it after some very unpleasant shenanigans. Took up healing and botany. Very short attention span, very bubbly personality. Likes glitter. Cannot hold still.

Odori - Female - Miqo’te singer, dancer, and entertainer. Hingan-born, spends her life travelling the world. Flirty, sultry, happy, and unusually tall. Enjoys being unexpected.

Khusel - Feminine Gender Apathetic - Xaela, left the Steppe after some familial clashes. Now wanders around, doing odd jobs. Travels a lot, kind of useless - vibe of “rat that went through the washing machine’s spin cycle.”

Alatyr - Male - Hrothgar, middle-aged traveling merchant. Travels the star over with a caravan of goods, always happy to buy or sell whatever is needed. Very relaxed, very calm, very friendly, very soft. Often found with a local beauty in a tavern, pub, or inn, drinking and smoking and laughing.

Blooming Arrowroot - Feminine gender apathetic - Roegadyn, full-time miner. Has two loving parents who she insisted should be able to retire, as such, works six days a week dawn to dusk to provide for herself and both of them. Permanently tired, very overworked, and can be found on her weekly days off drinking cheap swill in the Drowning Wench. Wishes she had the time or money to go see a play.

Unique Concept Characters - This category is for characters who I have come up with one or two unusual traits for, that come up commonly in their interactions and stories.

Amis - Feminine gender apathetic - Au Ra songstress, mute Qalli, writes music for a living in Radz-at-Han. Very short and explosive temper, communicates exclusively via music. Best songwriter you've ever goddamn heard of.

Lihtbryda - Female - Roegadyn mercenary, has a weird condition with her aether that makes her physically hot to the touch. Wants to save people and make friends but is very emotionally starved.

Saltsong - No Gender - Sea-deity given form, shapeshifter, usually takes the form of a coral-horned Xaela woman. Size shifter. Is the spirit of the ocean with all that entails.

Galdra - Feminine Gender Unsure - isn't sure what race she is, suspects artificial lifeform. Every time she dies, she wakes up again in the ruins of Nym. Has become blasé towards danger and death. Cordial but distant, has memory issues.

Acras - Female - Xaela, cursed by a Voidsent into becoming a vampire. Hedonistic, enjoys high society events, travels a lot. Likes to have blood from willing donors.

Amga Qestir - Feminine Gender Apathetic - Xaela, completely mute Qestir. Travels the world, despises civilisation. Friendly and gregarious, welcomes anybody to their campsites as they travel the world - as long as they do not speak. Lives off the land, and travels to everywhere on the planet, with the exception of any kind of town, settlement, or city.

Lore-Dependent Characters - This category is for characters who I have written to try to explore some particular facet of the FFXIV lore or story. Spoilers for the MSQ will inherently exist in this category.

Orinitt - Male - Dwarf blacksmith, had the Stoneblight that made him lose sight in one eye, shenanigans got him to the Source. Now lives in Limsa and is determined to become the best smith in two worlds. Alcoholic. Rivals with Gerolt. Very very grumpy.

Taraine - Genderfluid - Elezen knight, noble and heretic, lives in Ishgard. Extremely cruel and sadistic, incredibly angry at the Church and the Temple Knights, spent her life during the Dragonsong War undermining them. Now that peace has been found, does not trust the Church, is trying to find her new place.

Surya - Androgynous Agendered - Viis singer, lives in Eulmore and literally sings for their supper. Has no interest in anything beyond the now, wants to help people relax. Hedonist, kind, but uninterested in the long term.

Nehir - Male - Garlean deserter, son of Gaius. Was a sas in the Garlean army, posted on the walls at Ala Mhigo before deserting in disgust at Zenos's disregard for the men under his command. Believes in the Garlean message, hates the colonialism. Wants to help uplift people.

Blaidd - Male - Elf Werewolf, given the power of the wolf by the Shadowkeeper on the First, then was stranded in the Void for years. Managed to get out to the Source, now lives in the wilderness in isolation, very uncomfortable in society. Has a very feral wolf side, keeps very tightly controlled most of the time.

Reson - Male - Viera escaped experiment, was in Garlean captivity for many years. Likely not his real name. Has the Resonant but can't control it, experiences physical agony if someone lies aloud near him. Very quiet, very distrusting. Has prosthetic legs, ending in hooves.

(Shadowbringers Spoilers) Amaurotine Characters - This sub-category is for Amaurotine characters I have created, who are by nature related to another character.

Thalassa - Female - The Amaurotine whose Sundered soul would become Shio. Once a Word of Mitron, designing microbiology for aquatic biospheres, she was given the responsibility of the Seat of Azem - against her will, but she took the duty seriously.

Kolokasia - Female - The Amaurotine whose Sundered soul would become Brilliant Caladium. Nobody of any particular important position or prominence, a mere florist in the Unsundered World. Collects flowers, and gives them to people who she likes.

NSFW Characters - Most of the characters listed above can be found at @the-lustful-kojin for NSFW content! However, there are two characters who are inherently NSFW in some fashion - be it violence, dark themes, or erotic content. They will be contained on their own blogs, which will be linked here.

Additionally,

Elucia - Gender N/A - Voidsent (succubus), mainly tries to seduce people and eat their aether, as well as keep their head down and not get slain by a hero. Very sexual, shapeshifter. Is NSFW for sexual and erotic themes, as well as violence. ( @thedemonelucia )

Nahla - Female - Elezen pirate, quartermaster on the Scorpio Siren. Is not nice. Is very ruthless. Never raises her voice. Mainly wants to keep sailing free. Hates chains. Is NSFW for reasons of torture and other dark themes, both in her backstory and her current actions. ( @quartermasternahla )

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thenorthernrecords · 1 year

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It was the day after the dinner party. The ship Brennen was on was sailing back to the mainland, and he paid the captain with some of the money he now had to take him back. As they sailed, Brennen, while in the privacy of his cabin, took out something from his traveling bag. it was a small poach, with a similar symbol to the one Ashlynn wrote on her invitation. Inside, there was a small stone. It was onyx colored, smooth for the most part, but at the center, it looked like someone had carved a face with an open mouth. Ashlynn had called it a speaking stone and told him she had successfully ‘attuned’ it recently. She also instructed him to hold on to it and call for her when he was ready to report back.

He did so and waited. After a few minutes, just as he was about to give up, he heard something.

“Hello? Brennen?”

He jumped, and let out an astonished laugh. It actually worked! It sounded like she speaking right into his ears. It was offputting but impressive.

“Yes! Hello, it is me. Wow, I can really hear you!” He exclaimed.

“Of course, you can, my dear. I am a woman of my word. I wouldn’t intentionally mislead you.” Ashlynn warmly told him. “So! How was the dinner party?”

Brennen told her everything. He told her who he saw, and what he heard. He told her about Henry, about the way Charles subtly but aggressively ordered his son around, the children that strangely arrived, the man with the eye that seemed off (Ashlynn identified him as Victor Haun, a man who worked with her), the other guests he saw, and Alexandria accepting her gift. When Ashlynn asked if a woman was there with the children and described her to him, Brennen told her that he had not.

“How strange. I suppose she wanted to send a message to either the Blackwoods or Henry and Alexandria...Hm.” Ashlynn replied quietly, “What did you think about the whole thing?”

“It was definitely not my thing... if I could speak freely?” When Ashlynn told him he could, he continued. “I don’t know how someone as favorable as Lady Alexandria could marry into the Thornfield family. Sure, Henry was alright, but his father ... his father came off as arrogant and insufferable.”

“Favorable? That is interesting. Going by what I’ve seen and heard, it always seemed to be that she is an incredibly guarded person-- not that I blame her...but, it sounds like you got along pretty well with her,” Ashlynn observed.

“She was really nice, perhaps the most normal one there and she was really easy to get on with...” Brennen trailed off, remembering the way the beautiful woman’s face brightened when she smiled, her charming wit, how sharp she was... What was it that she said to him last?

Perhaps our paths will cross again sometime in the future.

He half smiled to himself, glancing out of the circular window of his cabin. The sun was out, its rays reflecting off the ocean’s waves, causing it to glisten. The day felt warm and pleasant. What a good day to get married, he thought. It was most likely the only time he’d be able to speak to Lady Alexandria like that. She was to be Thornfield’s wife once the day was over, after all.

He felt a bit bothered, causing him to sigh out loud.

Things always seemed to be out of reach for him.

“That aside, I am confident that she was pleased and interested in the gift,” Brennen went on, pushing those thoughts far back into his mind, aiming not to bring up those thoughts in the near future.

“Good. What I gave her was one of my most personal items, so I hope she reads it and understands a bit better.” Ashlynn sounded pleased. “I do think Henry has made some valiant efforts to marry Alexandria, and I am happy he finally got something done. Yet, I am concerned that Charles was there, acting that way. Either he has indeed grown weaker, unable to stop his son from doing what he wants, or he has a trick up his sleeve. He’s good at making someone’s life a living hell.” There was a sound of someone pulling out a chair. “Now, I will admit that he’s good for business when it comes to certain things, but personally? There is a reason why I’ve never truly befriended him. I’ve always hated the way he’s treated his children...”

“Would be a shame if someone were to spread about that Charles Thornfield has weakened,” Brennen commented with a smirk.

He met him once and he already strongly disliked the man.

Ashlynn chuckled. “Oh? Well, I wouldn’t stop anyone who would do such a thing, though I would proceed with caution, especially if said person was a wanted man from Thorn.”

“Of course,” Brennen nodded, making a mental note to work a side thing once he was back on the mainland. “But that is all done. What will you have me do next?”

“I want you to go to Nightfall and wait for someone to give you some money along with instructions to your next location. I will send for Morgan McGregory, the woman who sent the children to the island. Introduce yourself, and ask her about what she’s been up to, and what her future plans are. I will trust that you will know if she’s being honest or deceitful.” Ashlynn paused for a moment. “I heard that she may be in a bind, or could be. If you are willing, aid her. She is still an ally, after all. But do be mindful when you’re with her. She may feel a little jealous that you’re a new recruit with direct communication with me. It is her own fault for not visiting me when I was still in my little prison home, so it is what it is. Hopefully, she will not let that blind her judgment.”

“Nightfall, Morgan McGregory, got it,” Brennen confirmed. “When can I speak to you again?”

“In 15 days. The stones will not work between those days, so if you have any other questions, now is the time.” She said.

Brennen thought for a moment.

“How are you doing? And when you spoke to me about having special gifts, what do you mean?” He asked.

He really did wonder how she had been, given that she told him that it was the first time in forever that she would ever leave the region.

“I am doing wonderfully, thank you for asking. I am sailing right now, out of Snow Mystic’s waters, away from the wretchedness of Alexander for the first time in my life. It feels so good to be free,” Ashlynn answered and Brennen could somehow pick up by her tone that she was smiling. “As for your special gifts, I meant that you could have powerful, supernatural traits that are either dormant in you, or you’ve subconsciously used on a very surface level. I sense it in you. Also, you are someone who is good at breaking any lock, any prison, and I wonder if that is a separate gift or part of a bigger one.”

Excitement and anxiety caused Brennen’s heart to beat hard against his chest. He had always been naturally good at opening the hardest of locks. He never really had the time to wonder why -- until now.

“Is there any way to wake it up?” He asked.

“Of course there is! It can happen naturally, now that you’re made aware of it, but I will still research on my end and find the best way to awaken that part of you. In the meantime, make sure you observe any unnatural feeling or event that happens to you from now on, and report that back to me. It will help us pinpoint what your gifts are,” She said, sounding motivated. Then, she hesitated. “If Victor Haun was indeed there at the party, be on your guard should you see him again. I’m certain that even if he didn’t seem to you, he could’ve sensed you. He’s quite the powerful man, you know.”

That clicked something in his head. The older boy who had been terrified at the party did move his head when the man Victor Haun moved past him. That was the only time he did. He wondered if Victor had done something to him.

“I thought you said he was an ally,” Brennen commented with a raised brow.

“He is. I practically raised him. I love him like a son, as I love Morgan as a daughter,” Ashlynn said sincerely. There was a sound of a sigh; a sad one.

“But Victor ... he sometimes lets his darkness get the best of him.”

#Lady Ashlynn #Brennen #off to Nightfall he goes! ;)

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sapphirefox1510 · 1 year

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I titled this chapter "A Wizard and their Glowing Plants" and it just brings me some joy. I also figured out the next few parts of this story and it's not how I initially thought it would go, but it works, so I'm happy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Ok, yes, it was probably wrong of me to use Osirus as an excuse to take a break from work to hang out with my friend. In my defense, I was ahead on my work, and proofreading is boring so. I lead him to Inanna’s tent, where she spends entirely too much time taking care of her cotton plants and experimenting on them.

“Hiiiii,” I say, entering the tent.

“Hildey! Come here, come here.” Inanna waves me over to a corner of the tent where she’s kneeling by one of the many cotton plants cluttering the room.

“What did you alter this time, ya nerd?” she sticks her tongue out at me.

“I’ve been testing what colors I can make the cotton grow in so we can skip some of the dying processes that dim the color. It didn’t come out as dark as I hoped, but look at this pink.”

“That is a pretty shade; maybe it can be used for decoration rather than symbols.”

“That’s a good idea.” She hops up to scribble that down in one of the notebooks scattered on the table in the middle of the room. “Who are you?”

Whoops forgot he was here. “Inanna, this is Osirus. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on him for a few hours. Osirus Inanna”

“Hi,” Osirus very dully greets.

“Nice to meet you. You’re not wearing any identifiers. You must be from above ground,” Inanna analyzes him.

“Yeah. You guys are really into those symbols, aren’t you?”

“It’s an easy way to keep track of people; it works much better than what you guys have up there.” She finally gets around to scribbling down the note she wanted to.

“We don’t have anything designed to designate what job people have or who they’re related to.”

“Exactly.”

Osirus turns to me, “Is everyone down here rude?”

“no, you’ve just only managed to run into the snarky people. Which is kind of your fault for following me down here,” I answer with a smug look. He gives me an unamused look at that.

I feel something tug on my leg and look down to see the little dragon I brought to Ossian. He sinks his claws into my pants and climbs up me again, returning to his place under my collar. “oh, the little menace is back.”

“is that a small dragon?” Inanna asks.

“yeah, they ran to me after seeing Osirus and hid under my jacket collar. I took them to Ozzy, but it looks like they ran away to find me for some reason.”

“Maybe they’ve bonded with you,” Osirus suggests.

“Dragons don’t just bond with people, and the last time I saw this one, they wouldn’t even let me touch them; they just hissed at me.” I wave off his statement.

“It’s possible they think you’re the only safe place here,” Inanna says. “Small dragons always seem to be looking for the safest hiding places.”

“maybe.”

I see the tent flap get pushed aside as another person enters the tent looking down at a piece of cloth. “hey Inanna, I-” he looks up. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t expect there to be other people here.”

“It’s fine, Zeki,” I say.

“do you need something,” Inanna asks.

“I tore my shirt on my run today. I went to get it mended, but they didn’t have the right thread, so they sent me here to get it,” Zeki answers.

“what color?”

“just plain white.”

Inanna nods and pulls a chest out from under the table we’re standing around. “it’s gonna take a little while. You can wait here or come back later.” She pulls out a fluffy bundle of white cotton and a spool. As she heads over to the spindle to get it all set up, Zeki goes to sit on a blanket piled with pillows nestled in the corner of the room. It’s there for when Inanna’s been working too long and needs a nap or for people who want to hang around and chat or help card the cotton.

“Have you spoken to the record keepers yet,” I ask?

“no, not ye.t I wanted to drop off my shirt first. I didn’t expect to be sent on errands.” Zeki says while settling down.

“I’ll grab some paper and a pen.” I leave the tent to grab the necessary materials.

When I return, Osirus is sitting with Zeki, “making friends?”

“I’m just asking some questions,” Osirus replies.

“don’t go stealing my job.” I sit down with the duo.

“what even is your job?”

“record keeper. I write down stories and events so we have an accurate history of everything that happens here.”

“sounds boring”

I shrug “doesn’t matter how you feel, now let me work,” I turn to Zeki, “Tell me what happened up there.”

Zeki tells the story of everything that happened from when he left camp to when he got back, including a list of all the goods they collected. As we’re talking, the little dragon migrates to my lap, and Osirus reaches out to let them sniff his hand. The little creature surprisingly lets him pet them.

“so you just go above ground to collect goods you can’t make down here,” Osirus asks.

“and to collect the local news once every week, although it might happen more or less around holidays,” Zeki answers.

“hey, Zeki, catch,” Inanna tosses a spool of freshly made white thread to him, which startles the dragon into skittering to Osirus.

“Thanks,” Zeki smiles at Inanna. “See you around,” Inanna waves as he leaves the tent.

I turn to Osirus. “We should leave Inanna to her work and see how Chieftess Aurelia is doing.”

Osirus nods. “Right, let’s go,” He carefully picks up the dragon.

#writeblr #my writing #ocs #dragons #first draft #third chapter #writing #I still don't know how to tag but we're rolling with it

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goldenfharry · 1 year

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I feel so bad for him 😔 he doesn't deserve the hate he's getting. I get why people might be angry because of what he said but that's not a reason to be horrible. It just makes them look worse because they're literally saying horrible things about him. He didn't say it with bad intentions or to shade anyone. He just meant it in a way that he never forgets how lucky he is to be where he is now. He got rejected as a solo artist on X Factor and only got through as a band. If he wasn't put in 1D he would've been on his way home that day getting on with his life, none of us knowing who he is. There were a lot of contestants like him (from the same background) who have auditioned for X Factor yet they got rejected but he was lucky enough to have been chosen. That's what he meant. And I know he could've worded it better but the dude won a grammy for aoty and he probably didn't even think or realise what he was saying. And on top of that people in the audience shouting unecessary comments about how it should've been Beyonce or barely any of his peers showing him support apart from Taylor and Lizzo. That would've put me off aswell tbh. He was feeling a wave of different emotions. Happiness, nervousness, excitement, shocked etc. Why can't people just be supportive for once? Why is this world full of hatred and anger? Especially towards those that don't deserve it. What exactly did Harry do to them? There are literally problematic people in that industry yet celebs like Harry (who doesn't bother anyone) is the one that gets the most hate.

For anyone that comes from a small background, a small city, village, we can all identify ourselves in his words. He was like all of us, someone that studied and worked and had a typical life of a teenager. From a tiny place, from a worker class family, realistically we know that what happened to him doesn’t happen to people like him every day. That’s what he means. I’m pretty sure that Harry still sees himself like that boy. He has proven that he wasn’t consumed by the industry and is very grounded. The speech that he gave, for people that don’t know his concerts or background might sound weird. But it’s easy to understand if you try to find the justification. I have a video of him saying that at my concert and I often hear it to inspire myself. It’s also a speech that it’s easy for him to say by now. He was nervous, it was easy to use that speech. Leave him alone, enough with this, it’s been two days since the ceremony and people are still attacking him. The world really does not deserve him.

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country-wizard · 10 months

Text

Expression and Desires

Lately I have been feeling a sort of way

I tried on my mother's bra

I pictured it like how a boy would try on his

Mom's clothes

I don't wear bras haven't in a long time

Always sports

Mom has the weird wire ones

I didn't hate what I saw

Not in a urge or desire to transition

Back to a woman

But more of a never thought I could look

Like that

They didn't quite fit right

It wasn't to big but it wasn't to small

Some weird in-between

Though I guess I don't really know how bras

Are meant to fit in the first place

Lately I found myself wearing 1 of her tank tops

Originally for a party under my button up

But also because I like how it looks

The word in my head when i see myself

In the mirror in that tank top

Butch

I wouldn't describe myself as butch any other time

I have never identified myself as

A women who is more traditionally

Masculine

Though I used to be called a tomboy

It's a nice word but doesn't describe me

I wouldn't even feel comfortable using it if It did

I don't feel like a woman

I don't want to be a woman

Yet lately when I picture myself in that

tank top

wire bra

I see a part of me I've never seen before

A hint of something I've always wanted

Femininity

I wore an outfit once

Tank top, sweater, and jeans and then i had a crisis

I saw a person dressed masculine

Regretted dressing like that

It was a cute outfit though and I sometimes

Think back to it

I've worn dresses I think they're rather

Nice pretty even

They look weird on me

Sometimes I want to wear them though

I can't they look weird

I become a woman

Sometimes I stare at myself in the mirror

Before I shower

Naked completely bare

I cup my hands over my chest and try to

Flatten it with my hands

I think about the days it'll be gone

In bed late at night I think about having a

Dick

I'll never have one even though I wouldn't complain

I wish it could be like my fantasies as a kid

I could have my parts and a dick

My chest could go from flat to busty in a matter of seconds

It will never happen

I read a lot of fanfiction

Written by queers who write queers

The amount of porn I've read with people

Bodies similar to mine yet so different

Farther along in journeys

They make me feel like I can be loved

Lately though they've been making me question

I've seen a lot of art with trans characters

With boobs and all

Men or not

It makes me wonder if I can be similar

Can i still be viewed as me with a chest of meat

They make me believe so

Yet the urge to rid of them is overpowering

Sometimes I don't want to read fics

With others like me

2 cis men

Not out of some sexual fantasy

But to dream

I align so much with masculinity

It's hard to picture me in anything but

It's why I don't align with those whom love woman

The way other queer woman do

Or nonbinary folk who love woman

But instead I find myself drawn to men

The desire to be a man with another

It's one of my reasons I wish things were a bit different down there

Even though I don't truly want to become a man

Perhaps

Definitely

I don't think I'll ever know gender is weird

I don't feel like a man or a woman But sometimes

I wish I could be one

It'd be so easy so simple

I wish I could shape shift my body

Not of a change of gender but a change of appearance

It makes me dysphoric when I do it with clothes

I like how I dress I just want the anatomy to be different

Sometimes I want the clothes though

To feel pretty and/or handsome

Like lace under a suit

They should make boxers with lace hem

It'd be funny and I'd be their #1 buyer

Everything looks weird on me though

Nothing fits my shape

Yet sometimes I think on skirts

And suit pants

I think I would like lace under suits almost as if a little surprise

A treat for my eyes not to be sexy

But to scratch an itch I have

To satisfy a feeling

I wish I lived alone

Owned a wire bra

To feel like a boy wearing his Mom's dress

When she isn't home

To wear it around my house feeling odd

Alone with nobody to judge

Not a feeling of discomfort or happiness

But something else

Un-word-able

When I live alone

I'll wear my wire bra and I'll wear my packer

And I'll sit and feel weird

Not bad

Just weird

It's like pain something I can't describe

When I get top surgery

I'll wear my packer and my inserts for my wire bra

And I'll think

This is just like my fantasies

#writing #queer #agender #transmasc #lgbt #queer writing #poetry but not really #wizard writes

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jasonbehrs · 1 year

Text

🎭 wear your heart where i can see 🎭

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

a dbsk fanfic about falling in love on a trial run

“But you’re a dude!” “That will continue to be true for every lesson in the curriculum, so I suggest you get over that quickly.”

ship: yunjae chapter: 7/10 word count: 2.8k+ rating: T+ for cursing

read it on ffnet, aff, ao3, or below!

~~~

Back when Yunho was just a first-year and newly admitted into the hapkido team, there was a weekend sports intensive during the winter break that was ostensibly an opportunity to demonstrate and refine skills but was basically an excuse for the school's athletes to have a sports day by themselves.

Some of the other first-year boys had the idea to bond by going around and naming the girl in their grade they thought was cutest. Yunho had said Boa. She was a safe answer—indeed, he was one of three people who named her that night—but she wasn't a random one. Of course, it helped that she was pretty (and only got prettier as she grew taller and lost her baby fat), but he picked her because he thought that her calm nature and infamous declination to pursue dance full-time for the sake of her degree would fit really well with his obsessive-compulsive politeness and predilection for awkwardness with regard to anything that isn't studying and hapkido.

Everyone had agreed the two of them would make a great match, and that was it. Yunho had quietly accepted 'crushing on Boa' as part of his lore.

It's for this reason that he named her again when the Kims questioned him a few weeks ago about his intentions for practise dating Jaejoong. It didn't even cross his mind to admit something like, "I couldn't say no, and now it's kind of fun."

But it should have. Then Jaejoong wouldn't think he was interested in Boa, and he wouldn't act out of the kindness of his heart to accelerate Yunho's perceived endgame, because—as it turns out—he kind of hates dating Boa.

It goes like this:

1) Boa takes it upon herself to make him lunches sometimes. Some of his past girlfriends have done it too before, but those who did were shy about it. They handed the lunchbox to him with both hands and a bow, and they didn't stick around (at lunch or in the relationship) to see whether he enjoyed them. Boa, however, asks for a spot at the hapkido table whenever she does.

The first time, the hapkido team subjected her to trial by fire, jibing the couple in a well-meaning yet prodding manner to identify her boundaries. Yunho didn't even get to rotely defend Boa's honour before she responded for herself, elegantly shutting them down without taking any offense and somehow inviting them to do it again.

Suffice it to say, his friends love her immediately, in no small part due to their eagerness to witness a Jung Yunho relationship up close and in real life. This acceptance even includes a running gag about desiring Boa's meals.

"Did you bring any for us, Boa?" "Sorry, there's only enough for Yunho today~"

"Yo, let me get a bite of that, Jungie." "No way, get your own!"

The group always erupts in laughter, an easy acceptance of her presence both at the table and in Yunho's life. He plays along and joins in so that he doesn't ruin the mood, but honestly his heart isn't in it. Boa's meals are just okay.

He tells Jaejoong about this and asks if one day he should give in and let them have some—

sure, i'm sure boa would forgive you eventually

—which is helpful but disheartening.

He keeps up the ruse, but the meals become less and less appealing each time.

2) Boa tells him that the drama club is fundraising for the spring musical with a capsule toy machine as he walks her to class one day. "Most of the capsules are empty, but some of them are supposed to contain vouchers for a prize: free popcorn, a free drink, even free tickets. The machine is right by the main entrance; we should stop by after school."

Yunho looks over at her. "Are you, perhaps, into gambling?"

She laughs brightly, and he wills his heart to be affected by the sound. If only it would skip a beat, or beat twice as fast, or anything. "Not particularly. I'm just trying to support the drama club since I helped choreograph the spring musical."

The only thing stopping him from completely halting the flow of traffic in his shock is the student body's unspoken rule expressly prohibiting such a thing. "Oh." Jaejoong never mentioned he worked with Boa.

Later, they meet up at the capsule toy machine as discussed, and they admire that it's exactly like the ones at the mall. When Boa puts in the requisite two thousand won, she receives a yellow capsule with a paper inside that reads, 'Unfortunately you didn't win, but thanks for playing!'

When Yunho puts in the requisite two thousand won, he receives a red capsule that contains the coveted voucher for two free tickets.

"Wow, Yunho! I think there was only one free ticket voucher. Red must be your lucky colour."

He barks out in laughter; he can't help it. The concept of a lucky colour would forever be tied to the sight of wiggling eyebrows highlighted by a setting sun, and it's just too funny of a memory.

Boa couldn't have known—he himself didn't realise until this moment—so he means to apologise and maybe even explain… But when he recovers enough to open his eyes, he sees hers, quietly happy and trained on him. He is struck at once with the understanding that she thinks she is the root cause of his joy, and he sobers immediately.

She thinks he collects himself quickly from embarrassment for laughing so loudly, and he lets her believe that too.

3) Boa compares hapkido to dancing.

(She wakes up early this morning to catch some of the team's practise, and even his hardass coach who makes them put their cell phones on silent to minimise distraction doesn't mind her attendance. The entire team loves her.)

"There are different techniques to hapkido, right? 'Hard' and 'soft' counters?" she philosophises as she waits for him to pack up his gym bag. "That's like hip hop and ballet, don't you think? You use your body differently for either; but the more you understand both, the better your movements are overall."

Yunho completely agrees, but he's more surprised than impressed. "How did you get so much insight into hapkido from one practise?"

She giggles. "Both of my brothers learned when they were in middle school. They weren't as serious about it as you were; but between the two of them, I learned the basics."

He falters mid-movement as he hefts the bag over his shoulder, then he guiltily looks over to see if she notices. Luckily, she happens to be saying goodbye to some fellow straggling hapkido team members.

He wasn't even aware Boa had siblings.

"Brothers, huh? Are you the noona?" For some reason, it is a chore to ask such a simple question, and he realises something.

"I'm the maknae, actually!"

He doesn't know anything substantial about her—not her family, not her friends, not what she does whenever she isn't around him—and he isn't curious enough to find out.

4) Boa kisses him. A lot. Crasser mouths may even call what they do 'tongue fucking'. It's sadly the most enjoyable part of dating her thus far, but even the thought of that makes Yunho hate their relationship even more.

The fact that he only likes the physical benefits of dating Boa makes him feel sleazy in a way that deeply contradicts the kind of person he believes himself to be. He has never been interested in treating his girlfriends like they were merely warm bodies.

(Admittedly, never has he turned down requests for more intimate encounters either. He has boundaries—clothes need to remain on—but some of his more adventurous exes certainly found ways around them. The interactions as a whole were always physically enjoyable if not entirely satisfying, and he presumed he would become more interested once he got over the mental barrier of not wanting to have sex.)

Fortunately, Boa doesn't seem to be in any hurry where their physical relationship is concerned. She is satisfied with pecks on the lips after he drops her off at home or stolen kisses in classrooms after the dance team is finished practising.

During one such afternoon dalliance, when he pulls away from her, her eyes flutter open to reveal a warmth he recognises from his string of past relationships: desire. The kind that holds promise and proposition and permission. The kind that if he were a different person, he would be excited to explore.

Unfortunately, the best he can give her is repeated movements from before he pulled away, and she leans back into his embrace just as satisfied as ever.

What the past few weeks have shown him is that he was right: he and Boa are a great match. She is a perfect girlfriend and perfect for him in equal measure. He doesn't hate dating Boa because of Boa.

He hates dating Boa because of himself.

~~~

Jaejoong blames his guidance counsellor for everything.

She was all like, "What do you want to do in college, Jaejoong?" and "You should focus a little more on your grades, Jaejoong," and "Extracurricular activities are nice, but they're like side-dishes for your application, Jaejoong." Well, she needs to go back to guidance counsellor school or something because her words made him less interested in applying himself scholastically. His studies don't come naturally to him; and in reaction to her nagging, he couldn't help but be more drawn to things that he can do as opposed to things he can't.

This mindset is what led him to purposefully collide with the trajectory of Jung Yunho's life. He was someone who needed to be saved from himself even if he did not know it, and Jaejoong knew he knew how to save him.

Then he had to go and fall for Yunho. Then he had to go and dismantle their relationship before it could dismantle him. Then he was dismantled anyway.

It hurt less to let himself get led on than to watch from the sidelines as Yunho and Boa slowly fell in love.

She makes him laugh, she brings him lunches, the hapkido team loves her. When they're walking together in between classes, he can tell by her upturned face and smiling eyes that she's genuinely interested in him: who he is and what he does and why he does them. He knows that kind of behaviour would really help Yunho get over his discomfort in maintaining conversations. It was never that Yunho couldn't talk to girls, it was just that Yunho hadn't met the right girl.

The entire school seems to think so, too.

"Of course it would be Kwon Boa!" becomes a popular phrase the week the couple goes public, to which Sooyoung loudly grouses, "Doesn't this school have better things to talk about than two random second-years dating?" whenever it's uttered within earshot of the two of them.

After they hatched the plot to push Yunho and Boa together, Sooyoung becomes incredibly protective over Jaejoong. When Yunho tries to find him at school, she drags Jaejoong away. When Yunho texts him, she plucks the phone out of Jaejoong's hand and responds on his behalf. (When she's not there, Jaejoong usually waits a little bit before responding, sorry, was on the phone with soo, regardless of whether that is true.)

One day, he will be capable of expressing to her the full extent of his gratitude, but taking her out to cute bakeries every once in a while suffices for now.

The bids for his attention peter out naturally, enough that Sooyoung eventually lets down her guard. In many ways, everything becomes almost like how it was before. The only difference is the pangs of loneliness that he would never tell Sooyoung about. They happen too frequently—when he studies, when he orders Lotteria, when any song from High School Musical gets stuck in his head—and pass just as quickly to be worthy of her attention.

He tries comforting himself with the reminder that Boa is perfect for Yunho, and he didn't even need dating lessons for that to be true. Jaejoong means so little in the grand scheme of things that they would have found a way to each other anyway. In spite of his interference, in spite of his feelings.

It never works, but he repeats it to himself every time.

~~~

To her immense credit, Boa does not sound frustrated when she asks him, "What's on your mind?"

Yunho sighs. He just lost his fourth match in a row to her at a video game he suggested they play; at this point, they both know he's not just letting her win in a cute, boyfriend-y kind of way.

He looks over at her, sitting criss-cross on his bed and slightly slouched, and wonders how she can feel more comfortable in his own room than he can. How does he tell her that video games aren't the only things he's been losing lately? That actually he suggested a video game in the first place just to preempt any attempts at physical intimacy, a deep aversion of his even now that they've been dating for almost a month? That he misses Jaejoong so bad that he sometimes calls Jaejoong's phone using *23 just to hear his voicemail?

"It's complicated," he gets out eventually. He would love to claim nothing is wrong, but that would be an insult to her admittedly high emotional intelligence.

Boa puts down her controller and shuffles to face him directly. "Try me."

Yunho is ready to tell her not to worry about it, but then he tries to imagine literally anyone else sitting in her spot and fails.

He has a good amount of friends from class, but those relationships aren't developed enough for him to feel comfortable having sensitive conversations with them. He's definitely the closest to his hapkido teammates, but they're not really emotional support friends to each other. His sister is too young to truly empathise with him, and his parents are simply out of the question. In any other scenario, Yunho would have Jaejoong; but he is clearly not an option right now.

There is not a single person in his life he feels comfortable sharing his mangled and heavy concerns with (a pathetic circumstance that he will examine later), but Boa is his best candidate for a watered down version.

"Jaejoong and I haven't spoken in a while. I'm kind of worried about it."

She straightens in attention. "Kim Jaejoong? In the drama club? I didn't know you knew him… Though, that makes sense, since you, um, knew Sooyoung."

He sends her a grateful smile for her word choice. There is an unspoken question there, and luckily he has already thought this one through. The best way to explain why and how Jaejoong could mean so much to him is if—"He's my best friend."

"Aw," Boa says with a cute frown and sparkly eyes. "It would be fun to meet hi—" She cuts herself off with a gasp. "That's it!"

"Huh?"

"If you haven't spoken in a while, that means he doesn't know you and I started dating, right?"

Before Yunho could even begin to comprehend the extent to which she is incorrect about that, Boa continues, "You could invite him to hang out under the auspices of getting to meet me, and then at some point I can just… wander away?" She shrugs a little and waves her hand. "I'll figure that part out, but that could be your chance to have a conversation with him! That new ice cream place opened at the mall; it's the perfect set-up."

He stares at Boa's excited smile with wonder. She has absolutely zero stake in his personal problems and yet, without knowing anything substantial at all, she came up with a plan to help him overcome the issue. Not only is this incredibly thoughtful of her, but the plan is clever and actionable to boot. Frankly, it would work perfectly if not for the glaring issue that it's never happening.

Just because they know each other already doesn't mean he can let them meet! In this context, specifically, it would be weird. It would be like introducing his current girlfriend to his ex—oh.

Oh.

Yunho jumps to his feet, unable to sit still now that he needs to think. He needs to think alone, but he doesn't know how to ask Boa to leave politely, so his brain tells him they just both need to go.

He rambles as he gathers his and Boa's things and ushers her out the door. "That sounds like a great idea honestly let me think about it but oh my god I'm so sorry I just remembered I have to uh run an errand for my mom yeah and it really needs to be done right now do you mind taking a cab home I'll pay for it later just let me know the amount okay BYE."

He starts his motorbike and revs out of the driveway, unheeding of Boa's confused shouts and ignoring the way his heart is telling him very specifically which turns to make. He can't go there now.

Not yet, at least.

~~~

A/N (4.24.2023): Two more chapters and an epiloge, folks!

In South Korea, if you dial *23 before the number on a call, it disables Caller ID on that call so that the other person cannot preview your name/contact before answering. The communications commissions of most countries regulate something like this, and it's independent of carrier! Look up 'hide my phone number [country]' to find the block code that works for you. (Only valid for phone calls, not text messages.)

This will not be relevant but the other people on the hapkido team are Junsu, Siwon, Hangeng, and Hyoyeon. Hangeng graduates this year, and Amber and Henry join next year. They're the kind of friends you call when you want to use a flash mob to ask your significant other to prom, not the kind that attends a funeral for your beloved, recently-deceased pet. They're not afraid of hard work or vulnerability, but they just don't really do emotions when they're together. They all love each other, though!

#tvxq #dbsk #yunjae #kim jaejoong #jung yunho #dbsk fanfiction #tvxq fanfiction #jaso*#wyhwics

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

Text

Trump is sending an enormous number of people at these bases it's a giant number and he's sending about 500,000 at each small base literally that's a ton of people he's sending 10 million at a little bit bigger ones and the large base is you sending billions and billions per wave my friends he's going to be gone by the end of the day and he hasn't done anything to them for the most part yet several hits in she's trying to describe it to people and he's really bad at it it's like trying to hide it and describe it to his own people they're in horror they can't understand why it's so stupid eventually he's going to be dead and it's going to die a whole bunch of times and his people get pulled out everywhere and holy crap are they a pain is sit here for quite a while some of them and burping and farting and blurping and doing all this dumb stuff that little kids do seriously we're talking to a little kid Satanist and he's big and it's dangerous there's tons of these little kids running around and his demented as hell and psychotic and we all caught wind of it this morning okay you're having him call the lawyer cuz he posted it and you're saying that you're right about something and our son doesn't know something and you're wrong and we got to tell him something to make you feel a little better and to make you feel a lot worse so you want something huh it says I'll get you back I said I'm going to get you back I never hitting the nuts every few minutes cuz that's how you're doing business cuz you are out there in the low desert making it happen and they've got you on film will and Bill do cuz you're turning on them you're smiling you're laughing the same congratulations to people shaking hands with people hear your own base and you got kicked off base by Tommy f completely it says you simply used your attitude to identify you you're really pissy attitude it's extremely easy now it's steaming mad at Tommy f is going to attack is threatening our son and he shot with a Tommy asked guys and tell me if shot him right after said don't do that it went through his shoulder all the way through his chest and out the other shoulder and sat there and limb unable to move and yeah we're going to have you swallow his quarters after using them it's just such a weirdo her hair is just stupid it's dumb as soon as gold coins cuz he purchase them they're worth like a million dollars and you bought them for $4 so the guys after him literally each one of those is worth a couple million dollars and our son needs the back you had him selling for $4 hey got it from Joe so Joe can give them back to him my son knew they're pretty much worth something but he would know he would have trouble getting the money we'll have to sue you cuz you're lying and you act like this pig Trump.

I'm putting the papers in now against landrigan I'm suing Trump too I'm using our son's name as he approves and it's for slander and it's reliable and it's for misusing him and he's a VIP as for harassing and enjoying him with government people who work for the American public and for having us private forces harassing almost to death and for threatening his way in office by threatening a VIP inventor or bringing the lawsuit today everyone's had it with this piece of s***

I'm going to bring him some money cuz I can't stand watching you assholes bother him didn't tell me just to do so I have to get approval everyone has to be ready but right now Trump's people are dying rapidly and this will kill him off a little faster bja is trying to think about it and the joint venture against Trump or she had a lot of light on what Trump has been doing within their company he turned a lot of people away and he has a firm that's right next on the phone book big sized ad and that's espionage industrial espionage it's illegal I mean corporate espionage and it's illegal and my son put industrial but it's corporate so we're going after them and he's going to sue him for that and other things rather shortly

He is an ABB and a warrant out for him here in Port Charlotte and punta Gorda and there are several and he's wanted for several crimes and misdemeanors and for escaping prison and he's wanted for several felonies including homicide and he's been asking who and nobody's telling him so he's going around asking the sheriff it's embarrassing cuz he asked him they arrest him they're getting rid of the skies Tommy f is actively seeking him because Trump is telling people about him and raising support and it goes against Trump's being but that's what he's doing right now Tommy f is at Trump's area and his rating him for everything is worth he's using the phone call and Trump's attitude and reaction and slander to pull out most of Trump's stuff in several areas these are key areas with huge ordinance and Trump would not want it so he's looking he's guessing he hears his guys telling him they said they said it before and he forgot that was going after it and he's seeking out Tommy f he's sending more people to Texas and he says he's going after the money too isn't that your thing the money he sees it and says wow he's going after everything he has all the bases on Earth I don't know why that's not clear you said it's not clear to others it's not clear to you and certainly not clear to others as well I mean you're sitting there bothering me and he's bothering me a little you should just be handing me stuff because you're at War with Tommy f and everyone is practically so I started thinking about this we've been treating like s*** and it's wrong it's Tommy f guys inspiring all sorts of dumb s*** and fall for most of it this is hell I guess I'll just keep on doing it people don't believe in me

Trump

You're correct I don't trust you in any way you turn around in line and you're in front of you you're going to get backstabbed

Zues Hera

Here's what it is we couldn't stand you then and we can't stand you now and there's no way that we can stand you in the future we're hoping you all die we're telling you where Tommy f is attacking you it's going to help us

Ron faldetta

We have a lot of fun while we're doing it too you can't stand life we can't stand you Trump we want to have a good time doing what we're doing anything we're doing there's a lot of whiskey and beer and all sorts of things but you ruin it make it so we have to stay alert and awake so you can stop your people from harming us

Mike goidhue

Is that enough for you Trump I can't stand you I can't see you I have to find you

Michael Keating

There's so many of you we don't know who you are no we know who you are Batman

Daniel

All right all right let's get on with it eat and get out here doing laundry and go home that's the routine everyday do your laundry go get food go get supplies that's all he does is stupid bike we got for him because you're a nice guy what a f****** loser you tried to hurt him every which way but Sunday they heard you s*** head now you're almost gone I want to estimate you'll be gone today you're seeing this stupid song Tuesday afternoon cuz you're a f****** moron okay is Tommy f he's got the fleet up there he has the bases and doesn't care about you you s*** head I'm tired of you being against us too I guess we're going to have to live with it and we're going to fight you off too

Mac

I see how this is I keep spoiling it and don't care people don't care if I'm spoiling it so it's going to go down this way

Trump

Wow

Sarah

Going to sue you now Sarah you're a f****** k*** you hit him in the store and you were who you had no right to you cut in line is trying to push you out of the way and you shoved him so he shoved you back it's all on tape you're the f****** aggressor

Bitol and Goddess Wife yeah you're really wiped us out with that verbiage stuff the whole case is not going to happen because you said that stupid s*** that makes us more angry at you we're going to sue you for a lot of stuff now for you following him and harassing him and it's harassment okay there's multiple types of harassment and sexual harassment is one of them and you're trying to get your husband mad at him I'm going to sue you for that you did it and that's why you did the surgery in the first place that Wentworth I'm going to see you for that and he remembered why it happened and you told him he can't hold on to it cuz you're sitting there demanding he doesn't and we're going to see you for that and we're going to open the lawsuit now you're the first b****no Ellie beat you there and she's completely stupid it wasn't even her he's taking credit for it we know who threw him down the stairs too and it wasn't you and it wasn't Ellie and it certainly was not Hera in any format it was Pat we know who Pat is with his band Pat is this lowest lady she's the lowest and she's Ray and she's evil

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