#This is Not properly edited and it's the first time I've written in ages

[sideblogforcrimpy-plus]

Rinse; Repeat

Words: 4,478, chapter one of probably two.

Rated: Handle with care, cw suicidal thoughts/discussion, canon typical violence, hints at abuse/bullying

Summary: Spencer and Derek meet before either of them are in the BAU. Spencer is hesitant as a deer to be close and all Derek wants is to be close (so does Spencer). Spencer is clearly Troubled and Derek just wants to love him softly, honestly. Like filtered afternoon sunlight and sepia filters.

but for real I just, I saw a post that made me laugh and go 'ahaha, unless?' and then sat down uncomfortably on the floor for three hours and wrote this.

For my own comfort/entertainment, Derek and Spencer are closer in age than my recent google search would lead me to believe. Thank (●'◡'●)

---- 2003

Derek was having a truly sucky day. The academy was rough, and as good as he was at all the physical stuff, there were some real smart people and he was so scared that he was all brawn and no brain. Not that he’d readily use the word ‘scared’ to describe himself if he could help it, but he was.

But realistically, he did get this far. So he did have some of the brain, but was it enough? Had he set his sights too high on the BAU?

Still, the doubt and insecurity wasn’t going to have him quit early. Partly because he really, really wanted this, but also partly because what would he tell his family if he’d put so much time into this and failed?

They’d comfort him and say they’re proud; he knows it. But would he be proud?

He doesn’t want to find out.

Dead tired despite the lack of physical training that day, he walked through the house and out to the balcony, only part stopping to shed his jacket and backpack.

The sun was long gone by now, and the stars were too hidden in such a built up area, but he braced himself with his arms on the railing and stretched his neck, trying to relax.

God, how many people even got through the academy each year?

“Chances are, if you’re already in the academy, you’ll come out the other side.”

God?

Had he asked that aloud?

Derek just about jumped out of his skin, training be damned. He was on the top floor and roof access was blocked. He must have made some sort of noise, because the sad, quiet voice came again.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m not- I wasn’t… Startled.” Derek rubbed his forehead, hoping his voice didn’t sound it; startled. He wasn’t sure he’d heard that organically in conversation, more something you come across in text, in books and things.

“Oh. Sorry for assuming?” The speaker was hesitant, like they’d started apologising before they really knew why. Curious, and not thrilled someone had roof access and it wasn’t the guy (and his sister) who had the top floor apartment, Derek leaned out over the railing and twisted his neck, trying to see who answered him.

Before he could get a glimpse, he heard them step back.

How close to the edge was he? He watched as a bit of rubble fell past him and to the concrete below.

“I don’t think that’s something you need to apologise for, man. How’d you get up there, anyway? I was told we weren’t allowed because they don’t have railings. Or insurance, I think.”

“Well, that makes sense. Although a fall from a five story building isn’t guaranteed to be fatal; you’re better off on the eighth floor for that. But then again, there have been people that survived from even that height so, you can’t really win, can you? If you’re scared of heights or something.”

Derek’s curiosity took a quick dive into concern that sped right down to worry.

“Now I think you got that the wrong way around, better off on the lower floors if there’s no railing, right?”

There was a long pause, and Derek wondered if he’d be able to get up onto the roof in a reasonable amount of time if he had a sense of urgency pushing him.

“Perhaps. Can you imagine the injuries you’d be left with after surviving the fall?” He heard a foot scuff the ground above him and thought he’d started sweating despite the cool breeze. “It’d really suck to not have insurance then, huh? As the building owner, I mean.”

“Okay man, well, that’s a dark topic. And since there’s no railing, or maybe no seats up there either, why don’t you join me on my balcony instead? I might even be able to find a beer or something for you.”

“It’s not safe to go into a stranger’s house.”

“It’s not safe to think about people surviving and not surviving falls while you’re alone on a rooftop, close to the edge, and there’s no railing.”

“Well… Perhaps that’s a reasonable counterpoint.”

And that’s how Derek started becoming friends with a bundle of limbs and greasy hair that hid an incredible but haunted mind.

–

Spencer didn’t have a phone, so he’d just show up at Derek’s apartment intermittently. Well, his and Sarah’s. His mother had put money towards them renting it for the duration of Derek’s time at the academy and Sarah’s short term study since they lined up almost the same, with him likely finding some place more permanent for himself after.

He didn’t do well in the claustrophobic, shared dorms of the academy so would escape to the apartment when he could, and Sarah was completing her course close enough to make the apartment almost worth it. 

It had two shoebox rooms, and they had to share a bathroom, but it still had two rooms so it was a step up from the low bar the academy set. But she was out often with friends, study, and a part time job while he was still largely sleeping at the dorm, so they hardly saw each other.

He’d come back to Spencer hanging out near the block only a couple times; he didn’t seem to like loitering, like he was concerned Derek’s neighbours would get suspicious.

More often, though, Derek would go out onto the balcony and make some sort of noise, and Spencer would respond from above. Over time, Derek was relieved to note that Spencer was usually not so close to the edge as he was the first night.

But most of the time, unfortunately, was not all of the time.

Spencer wasn’t all that interested in drinking, but he was interested in sharing whatever he’d learned about recently. He absolutely did not share much about himself at all.

Despite how private Derek felt as a person though, he found he was sharing quite a lot about himself with Spencer. It was hard not to, inviting Spencer into a place he and his sister were living in though. She’d met him in passing once or twice, and had commented after he left, thankfully, about how shy he seemed to be.

Spencer was a bit like butter from the fridge; he needed time to soften up every single time he came over to Derek’s.

His most recent obsession, to Derek's suffering, had been body farms. After finding out that Derek was studying at the academy (which he was loath to share on account of those ever-present insecurities), Spencer had told him that he was interested in criminal behaviour, among other related things.

Not in a ‘watch true crime documentaries just for the nightmares, apparently’ kind of way, but more to work out the why, and sometimes guess at the how, of everything. He’d dropped stupid time into geographical profiling, in Derek’s opinion, for someone who wasn’t pursuing a career in a related field.

“And they have one, a body farm that is, in East Tennessee. Did you know that they run ten week courses there? Something they’ve done recently is watching for changes in hair for a body left in a car for two months. That’s so specific, isn’t it? Hair changes in a car? Although it’s safe to assume they’re obviously looking for more at the same time.”

“Obviously,” Derek agreed.

Spencer was way too excited for the topic at hand.

Derek continued before Spencer went back to talking about something like maggot life cycles. “Okay, so if I get through to being an FBI agent and I see a body in a car, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“You mean when. I don’t have a phone.” Spencer’s lips had a little curve, like he was self-conscious of smiling still but couldn’t help it fully.

“Right, right. Can you tell me how to summon you then, or will I just have to come here and call out at the roof until you appear?”

Now that was definitely a smile. Why did that feel just as good as high test scores?

The next time Derek was at the apartment, Spencer didn’t show. But there was a phone number written on a paper plane that had been thrown onto his balcony. Three, actually, and one he picked up on the way to the apartment that was stuck in a sad, over-pruned and under-watered hedge out front. How many had Spencer made that Derek didn’t find?

Eleven, it turns out. Spencer was a horrible shot, but Derek liked watching his long fingers folding the paper in what was ‘the most aerodynamic plane folding method’ the next time he was over. It felt a little silly to challenge him on it, especially since Derek knew fuck all about the aerodynamics of paper planes. And Spencer called him out on it.

“Superior hand-eye coordination doesn’t mean your plane folding method is superior, it just means you’re good with your hands.”

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, but continued speaking after he let the flush of Spencer’s cheeks sit for a moment.

“So you want me to throw one of yours, to see if I can do it better with your method?”

“It’s a reasonable request. You can’t test two theories for quality results if the testing methods are different.”

“You’re a sore loser, you know that?”

“You’re an unfair winner, did you know that?”

“So you admit I’m a winner?”

Spencer felt terrible that his next plane hit Derek in the eye, so Derek only milked it for half the time he would have liked to.

Spencer shoved his shoulder when Derek finally caved and laughed, indignant.

“You were playing it up!”

“It’s paper! It can’t hurt me that bad.”

“It did hit your eye. They might be the fastest healing body part, but they’re not impervious.”

“Pretty boy, if you want to kiss it better, I won’t stop you. But you don’t need to worry that much about it.”

Derek saw that sweet rush of colour on Spencer’s neck and cheeks, and the smile he was trying to hide before now took a shy edge as he tried to look casual.

“Well, if I injured you, I should do what I can to help.”

His voice was so quiet that Derek almost missed what he said. He tilted his head in question, raising a brow while trying to figure out if this was more word-based flirting or if one of them would actually take it further for once.

Spencer’s eyes were focused on his fingers, picking at lint that certainly wasn’t on the leg of his pants but held his gaze anyway. His eyes flickered up to Derek’s face though, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips just after.

“Well, you’re the doctor out of the two of us, what do you think I need?”

“I’m not a medical doctor.” Spencer’s voice seemed to be getting quieter, but Derek liked that his gaze was flicking more to Derek’s lips now.

“Maybe so, but I bet you know more about first aid than I do, especially with that fear of germs you got.”

“Me not shaking your hand is normal. The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.”

Derek almost laughed at how embarrassed Spencer looked at that line, but knew if he did Spencer would think he was laughing at him and might take offense.

“So I should kiss you goodbye when you leave? Doctor Reid, who knew you could be so forward?”

“That’s not what I was saying! I just-”

Derek held up his hands, placating, while Spencer seemed to flap his. “Now now handsome, I didn’t say I was opposed.”

Derek thought he was floating when Spencer, so quickly it was barely a kiss, pressed his lips to Derek’s cheek when he left that night.

–

The next time Derek heard Spencer’s voice from above his balcony, he was almost back to his subdued, distanced self from when they first started speaking. It was over an hour before Spencer let Derek coax him inside. He was shocked when Spencer came to his front door, hair lank and pulled forward to try and cover his eye and cheek that were dark with bruising.

“Spencer, what happened?” He ushered the younger man in, directing him to the couch.

“Nothing. An accident. What were you saying about the fitness test?”

“You’re not interested in fitness tests, what happened?” He tried to bring his hand up to Spencer’s cheek, tilt his head up into the light and assess the damage, but Spencer shied away from him, getting up and heading to the kitchen instead.

“I’m interested in the fitness test.”

“I’m not. Since when are you interested in that?”

“Since you’re the one talking about them.” Derek tried not to feel warm and fuzzy with that comment. Spencer was being genuine, the man was a terrible liar, but he gives away shy truths when he wants to distract.

Derek leaned against the tiny kitchen counter while Spencer turned the kettle on.

“I thought you didn’t have tea at night because of the caffeine.”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight anyway, so I may as well enjoy a tea.”

Derek scrutinised him, wordlessly getting a still sealed pack of decaf tea from the cupboard and putting it down beside Spencer’s hand on the counter.

“You know this isn’t truly decaffeinated? It’s just lower in comparison to other teas.”

Derek stayed quiet and watched as Spencer started to squirm under his gaze. He turned then to face Derek, a frown on his face that softened when he saw whatever emotion Derek’s expression wasn’t hiding. Concern, probably.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t use your behavioural training on me.”

“I thought I wouldn’t feel the need to with you.”

Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line before he turned back to the kettle, mumbling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

When Derek put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, Spencer jumped, then looked guilty.

“Sorry. I don’t-” He looked at Derek’s hand, which he’d pulled back like he'd been burnt when Spencer flinched at his touch. “I don’t mind.” He wrung his hands, nervous or something like it and unable to look at Derek with that soft red on his cheeks again, marred by bruises. “I don’t mind. The contact, if it’s you. But I’d rather not be surprised by it just now.”

“I get it, pretty boy, and I’m sorry.” He held out his hands, palms up, for Spencer to take. Spencer’s hands shook a little, and he’d forgotten to pour water into his mug now.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, I won’t ask how you got- that.” He jutted his chin to try and gesture at Spencer’s purpled skin while his hands were occupied. “But is what I see all you have, or is there more?”

Spencer bit his lip, watching his own thumb as he rubbed it against Derek’s fingers.

“Spencer, please.”

Spencer shrugged, still unwilling to meet Derek’s eyes.

“It’s not just that. My face. It’s-...” He lifted their joined hands, but didn’t let go of Derek’s to gesture any better. Instead, he pressed their hands to Derek’s chest, just beneath the collar of his shirt, then slowly moved them down and around a little to Derek’s sides. The movement was awkward, but Derek appreciated the tight grip on his hands, and the touch Spencer was initiating, and the information being shared all in the way Spencer was capable of.

“It’s all over, isn’t it pretty boy?”

Spencer hesitated, almost nodding before deciding to try and move on. “I don’t know if I qualify for that. Not normally, or especially now.”

The shy smile was back, and too self-deprecating for Derek. But fighting Spencer on that too strong right now would push him away, so he let some of that anger slide away before he spoke.

“You callin’ me a liar, handsome?”

“No, I think I’m calling you a sweet-talker.”

“But a lying sweet talker, hot stuff?” Spencer pursed his lips as he looked up at Derek, finally, to suppress a smile.

“I’m starting to think you have a biased opinion.”

“I’m starting to think you do too, although on the other side of the spectrum. Why are you so hard on yourself?” 

Spencer squeezed Derek’s hands before letting them go, turning back to pour hot water in his mug. Derek bit back a sigh when Spencer changed the subject again.

“So only two weeks before you’re done at the academy, huh?”

Throughout the night, as Spencer started melting into his more comfortable self the longer he was there, he was less aware of the bruising on his face. It wasn’t until he caught his reflection, or Derek staring, or felt it twinge when he smiled too wide, that he remembered it and grew self-conscious again. That he pushed his hair back in the way of it like if Derek couldn’t see it then Spencer could forget he was injured.

He’d foregone contact lenses and worn his glasses that night, like he did most nights, and Derek thought it might be so it felt like there was another barrier between his bruises and the rest of the world.

Derek wanted to kiss them better, and then all the other hurts Spencer seemed to have. And Spencer sure seemed to have a lot of hurts.

Hurts like how his expression tightened when Derek asked about his childhood, his parents, his friends, or his time at school. How Derek, in the earlier days, made a comment about Spencer missing social cues, and heard a bitter ‘well I can’t pick up on cues if I don’t have anyone to teach them to me’ in reply before Spencer tried to cover it up.

How if he had a particularly bad day, he was so jumpy near Derek that Derek almost wanted to sit on his hands to show he wasn’t going to use them for anything.

How on days when Spencer’s eyes were sunken with a lack of sleep, and the clothes he wore showed how thin he was, and he was so so close to the edge of the ledge on the roof above Derek’s apartment that he thought Spencer just might not care if he fell over the edge.

Like he’d had a lifetime of hurts and still had to face more each day, and Derek only saw little slivers of him and couldn’t learn enough to help him as much as Spencer needed; as much as Derek wanted.

God, he was going to make a terrible profiler.

“Derek?” Spencer looked hesitant, and Derek realised he’d spaced out; probably while staring at Spencer’s bruise again going by how he’d tried to angle his face away awkwardly, unable to fully turn and hide it while looking at Derek at the same time.

Derek couldn’t help it, he just kept on staring. Spencer’s tongue darted out to wet his lips again, and Derek’s eyes tracked the movement. He knew Spencer noticed that, too, by the way his breath seemed to stutter.

Slowly, he shuffled forward on the couch, eyes holding Spencer’s gaze as he did so.

This time, Derek’s name from Spencer’s lips was much quieter, like he was asking for something instead of questioning him.

“Spencer,” The younger man’s eyes dropped down, watching as Derek’s hand came up to his arm; his shoulder. Watched it still as it moved higher, cupping his unbruised cheek. Spencer turned his head, almost pressing a kiss to Derek’s palm as his eyes closed and his bruised cheek was fully on display.

“Spencer, I’ll be gentle. May I?”

Spencer didn’t open his eyes, just hummed in agreement, nosing at Derek’s palm. 

Goosebumps broke over Spencer’s neck when Derek’s breath hit his cheek, and Derek felt him shiver. Careful to avoid the worst of it, Derek skated his lips over Spencer’s cheekbone, pressed them just in front of where his earlobe met the back of his jaw, then trailed them down his jawline.

Spencer tipped his head, allowing easier access as Derek watched Spencer’s fingers grip the couch cushion beneath him. Unsure if it was entirely due to sensation or something going on in his mind, Derek didn’t push further. Using his hand on Spencer’s cheek, he turned the man’s head to nudge his nose to Spencer’s.

“This is alright?”

In lieu of an answer, slowly, Spencer lifted his chin and kissed Derek on the lips. Derek’s chest swelled and he smiled into it, his other hand coming up to Spencer’s side.

They shuffled closer to each other, to be able to press themselves into each other more comfortably. Spencer’s mouth opened beneath Derek’s lips, and he could taste that terrible decaf tea and honey, and the cashews Spencer liked to snack on while reading.

He wondered what Spencer would think he tasted like, the cheap vending machine snacks and the god awful protein water he’d bought without realising it was terrible.

Suddenly, he had the urge to brush his teeth. He made to pull away, but Spencer’s fingers curled in his shirt and his resolve weakened.

Their hands were slowly moving over each other, everything was moving so slowly. Sweetly, like they were learning each other and had all the time in the world. Derek’s fingers found the hem of Spencer’s shirt, and he tugged the man’s lower lip between his teeth as his fingers slipped under the fabric and brushed against Spencer’s skin.

God it was soft, but it felt thin, too. He became scared of hurting Spencer, especially when remembering he had some other injuries too. So he kept his touch light, fingers probably tickling as they travelled further up Spencer’s side as Spencer laughed into the kiss.

Spencer tugged at Derek’s collar, then his fingers slipped around to cup the back of Derek’s neck. Caught up in being able to touch, they quickly moved back down, trailing over his shoulder and down his chest, then Spencer’s hands lingered there. They would have moved further down, Derek thinks, with his hands now pushing Spencer’s shirt up, if it weren’t for his sister coming home.

They didn’t realise until they heard her laugh, surprised.

“Oh, Sorry! I didn’t text ahead, my phone died. Go about your business!” She laughed again, more of a giggle, then her bedroom door clicked shut. Spencer was rigid beneath him - when had he pressed Spencer into the couch beneath him?

‘Sorry, Spence, I didn’t-”

Spencer pushed him up and off, the heat flushing his face more than the usual shyness or what Derek might expect from making out on a couch could bring about. More than embarrassment of being caught, even. He scrambled to get up and right his clothes, walking to the door and scooping up his bag on the way.

“Spencer, wait! Where are you going?” He didn’t want to pull Spencer back by catching his arm, knowing the man wouldn’t react well. His eyes seemed watery and Derek was lost.

And he stayed lost, when, after three weeks, Spencer hadn’t come back. His texts went unanswered and when he called the number was disconnected.

And he kept right on being lost when Spencer didn’t come back to visit him before he had to move out.

–--- 2005

Derek scowled at the scene before them. 

“You’re saying someone was turning people into books?”

The local officer walking them through the scene nodded, nose wrinkled but face otherwise resigned.

“Yup. See, we had a couple people go missing here and there. Transients, runaways, you know the type. And we’d thought they went missing by choice. Sure, we looked,” not enough, Derek thought. “But we never thought they’d end up. Well. As books.”

“As books.” Derek’s skin crawled.

Aside from a specific wrinkle in his brow, Hotch didn’t even look perturbed. “These materials, would they be specialised? Potentially unique or traceable?”

“The tanning stuff? Not as far as we can tell. Out here, we got people doing this the normal way, tanning hides and such.  A lot of leather workers out here. As far as we can tell, it’s basically all the same stuff.”

Hotch looked back at Gideon who shrugged and looked at Derek. “He’ll take a breather now that we found his workshop; he’ll need time to set himself up again. Derek, you’re going to a library to speak to someone about human skin book binding.”

Derek and Elle looked at each other before Derek held his hands out, gesturing broadly.

“We just have someone who knows about human skin being made into books?”

Elle smirked at him. “And you get to visit them. How nice.”

Derek wasn’t thrilled about it, and the feeling that his skin was crawling and unclean hadn’t left since they found the workshop their unsub was using. It reeked in both usual and unexpected ways, and the forensic investigator on scene and all too happily told him that urine could be used in the tanning process.

Perhaps a clean, quiet, library would help in easing his mind, but the subject matter wouldn’t. Derek flashed his badge at the desk, and the librarian assistant he’d found nodded without him needing to explain.

“Agent Gideon called ahead, I’ll lead you through to the doctor now. The books were already here, we’ve held them for ages, but the doctor only arrived recently. Good timing, too, what with this horribleness happening.” She chattered as she led him through shelves, picking up carelessly placed books as she went and piling them up on her other arm.

“Wait, the doctor showed up for the books after the murders?” Derek frowned; Gideon hadn’t called that far ahead, had he?

“Yes, though it’s not his first time here. He’s such a joy to have.” She looked at Derek, then laughed. “You don’t think he did it, do you?”

Derek shrugged, and she shook her head. Then, they stopped outside a room labelled ‘staff only’, and she knocked before pushing the door open.

Derek patted down his pockets for his notepad and pen, then stopped short when he looked up.

The assistant kept talking.

“So this is the doctor Spencer Reid, the veritable specialist on these books. Our Margaret, who usually cares for these books and who we’d recommend you to normally for this, she’s been unwell. But we’re lucky to have Dr. Reid here,” After that, she looked between the two, and her smile slipped into confusion.

“Do you two know each other?”

Derek swallowed, and Spencer barely moved.

“Well, I’ll just leave you two to it, then.” She cast a hesitant glance at Spencer, who nodded to her, and she seemed to take that as a sign it was safe for her to leave them alone.

“Spencer?”

[songoftrillium]

Project Update 09/01/24

Hello, Kinfolks. We're a little under 60 days from releasing Book 1: Cliath, and I wanted to give you all a quick update, provide a few book facts, and hope this lets you share the excitement the rest of us have been feeling!

Book Layout

As you might've seen from our previews, writing is transitioning from writing to copy editing and book layout! If you haven't yet, check it out! The first two chapters are done, and chapter 3 is well underway. Outside of my work on Hearthbound, this is my first major book project, the largest book I've written, and the insights I've gained are ones I think might help future community content partners publishing work on Storyteller's Vault.

On Bluesky, a few months ago, I commented that you should "plan to take as much time doing layout as you do for writing." Even if one writes the book inline right in the desktop publishing program, annotation will still add time. With a WtE book we want to not just provide an adventure and a crash course on the Tellurian, but to also be a roadmap for Storytellers, new and old alike. This has happened on three fronts. The first and most important is we're taking the time to properly index everything in a way that'll let you look up specific book information quickly. The second is how we streamline information through the liberal use of cross-referencing in footnotes. In early chapters, you read truncated summarization, and in the footnotes, you can find book sections that expand on the information you're looking for and let you tune out the things that may not be so important for you to know at the moment. The third and most important feature, however, is where able, we cite our sources for our information. Should a Storyteller wish to learn expanded information on topics, they have a direct book and page citation where they can find deep lore to help construct their chronicles.

Cracking the Bone: now in coloring flats stage

For those that haven't been following, we are returning to old form. The moment you open Book 1, you'll be greeted with a fully illustrated and colored 22-page comic book showcasing life in the Age of Heroes. This story is centered around Dante (he/they,) our protagonist, and his first steps towards his First Change as a Bitten Homid Philodox. Throughout the book, we'll follow his journey towards becoming a Cliath, forming his pack under Earwig and his first mission as a Zedakh in a pack of other Queer Garou. In successive books, you'll see him transition from a scared baby gay Cub to a respected Elder in the Eastern Concordat! We're all absolutely thrilled to follow them on their journey. Illustrating this comic is the highly talented @mekanikaltrifle, who has partnered with us to bring Dante's story to life. I have a single pane I'd like to show you, bearing in mind these are just a first pass!

Book Pricing Information

We've also finalized some of our possible pricing on this book. On Storyteller's Vault, Community Content is priced on a per-page basis. The average is considered to be 12 cents per page. I did some early market work by releasing Hearthbound on a pay-what-you-want model with a recommended pricing of $2.99, totaling roughly 8 cents per page. I advertised exclusively here and on other social media platforms to queer audiences to help gauge a fair price for materials explicitly marketed to that audience. Of those that decided to pay for copies of the book, readers paid an average of 5$ per copy for an average of 14 cents per page. Given the voluntary nature of the release, we on the team have agreed that we'll be charging a rate of 14 cents per page for this release, which puts us on par with pricing for similar releases with a matching pagecount. With layout underway, we're currently looking at a book length of around 200-250 pages. 50% of proceeds go to the publisher, and the remainder will be split equally among all contributors, myself included. I and another artist have pledged to donate the entirety of our shares toward preserving the Kalapuyan language.

Book 1: Cliath releases on Halloween day!

I'd like to give a shout out to @a-boros-named-seamus, @madamebadger, The Bohemian, @peltofash, @ar2456, and Durodragon for supporting me on ko-fi, through yours and the donations of other ko-fi sponsors, we've managed to hire cultural consultants to review about half of what's been written. Because we weren't able to review all of our written words, we've narrowed our focus onto some of our most sensitive subject-matter, and believe that what we have coming out will be the inclusive Werewolf: the Apocalypse Quickstart you've all been waiting for. Thank you! It means so much to us that we have our own sept of Kinfolk out there who believe in this project!

If you'd like to help sponsor this project, subscribe on ko-fi to help us pay Cultural Consultants to work with us! We have some cool perks for subscribing, including access to book and setting previews, the ability to give feedback on game content we're producing, personalized advice for your own tables, and can even get a shoutout right in the book.

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[writingquestionsanswered]

How many words is too many? I have written over 80,000 words already and don't have a computer to edit properly. I've already decided to split the story among multiple books. But how many should each be? I am aiming for a basic novel to a little bit longer, but as a first-time author, I don't want to write something too long and not get anyone to read it.

Finding Your Story's Target Word Count

"How many words is too many" depends on what you're writing. Every type of story and every genre has a different word count range, and the specific ranges vary depending on who you ask. Here are some general ranges you can target...

Story Type:

Short Stories - 1,000 - 5,000 words Novellas - 20,000 to 50,000 words Novels - 50,000 - 110,000 words Epic Novel - 110,000 words and up (though these are rare)

Age Category:

Middle Grade novels - 25,000 - 40,000 words Young Adult novels - 45,000 - 80,000 words New Adult novels - 60,000 - 85,000 words Adult novels - 65,000 - 110,000

Genre:

Literary novels - 80,000 to 110,000 words Romance novels - 50,000 to 80,000 words Fantasy novels - 90,000 to 110,000 words Mystery novels - 70,000 to 90,000 words

It's important to remember that a book series isn't one long novel chopped up into smaller books. Each book in a series needs to have its own story arc. In other words, a beginning/inciting incident, middle/rising action, and end/climax and denouement. That said, you will need to look at the completed story and identify the natural story arcs that exist within it to figure out where each book should end and the next book should begin.

Something else to consider is your publishing goal. If you plan on pursuing traditional publishing, you might look into writing an in-depth summary of the entire story and working with a developmental editor or book coach to figure out how to best divvy up the story between books. That way, you'll ensure that book one is as strong as it can be, which will increase the likelihood of getting a book deal. After that, if your book sells well enough to warrant the publishing of the next book, you will have some guidance on where to go from there.

If you're planning to self-publish, you can still look into working with an editor or book coach, or even a critique partner, or you can just make the best decision you're able to about how to divide each book. Again, what matters is that each part of the story centers on its own individual story arc.

Something else to consider: if you have a really long story that you want to chop up into pieces rather than individual books, you might look into posting it as a serial on a site like Wattpad, Kindle Vella, Ream, or similar services. Serialization allows you to take a long story and chop it up into sizeable pieces, such as "episodes," and then you don't have to worry so much about dividing it up into books with their own individual story arcs.

One final consideration: Not having the ability to edit properly is not an excuse to publish an unedited work of fiction. No one wants to read an unedited story, even if it's chopped up into pieces. If you want to publish this story, whether online, traditionally, or self-published, you need to find a way to edit it properly and make sure you're putting a tight and polished version of the story out into the world.

Here are some additional links:

Self-Editing Tips Editing Tips Ten Ways to Cut Your Word Count

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[iznsfw]

Eunbi and Taeyeon threesome where Taeyeon unnie teaches Eunbi how to properly please her man 👀

In Absentia Lucis, Tenebrae Vincunt

Part two of Dulce Periculum | Previous Part | Next Chapter

Girls Generation's Kim Taeyeon x IZ*ONE's Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

10,144 words

Categories | sex-ed_professor!Taeyeon x valedictorian!Eunbi x student!Reader, mommy kink, lesbian sex, squirting, breeding

Content warning | teacher/student relationship, age gap (all legal, needless to say), slapping, degradation

mobile masterlist | masterlist

This piece is edited by and dedicated to @midnightdancingsol and @capslocked, two of my favorite writers. Thank you so much, I appreciate it! Originally had a different plot, but ideas hit, and I've been working on this ever since. There wasn't supposed to be mommy kink here, but then I realized that no one has written Eunbi calling someone mommy here before, so I wanted to try that but with my top two, Taengoo ;) IZ's best girls coming your way... now!

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

The clock says 10 AM sharp, and the skies are a warm sight of lively blue. Morning has long been here, yet for Kwon Eunbi, it’s an hour she can view as nighttime. With the school uniform keeping her warm from the wind of the powerful air-conditioner, she feels right at home. For once, she cares not for paying attention to lectures or reprimanding her classmates’ buzzing conversations. For once, she puts herself first—not her schoolwork, not her classmates, but her.

It’s not like she can continue her usual routine of studying  even if she wanted to. Her body’s worn from endless days of studying and playing. Her forearms, formerly milky white, are now peppered with purple bruises. With the number of textbooks she’s flipped through under a flickering lamplight, it’s likely that she'll need to replace the lens of her round prescription glasses. 

Still, she’s Sleeping Beauty herself. Chocolate hair falls messily but prettily over the pillow she rests on (AKA your arm) as she finds solace in slumber. The softest of snores barely make it past her full lips pressed together. 

You gently rock her side to side, admiring how pretty she is even when she’s resting. 

Too bad she's sleeping due to stress.

During class. 

For a girl like her, classes are a lifeline. School in general is. She would never dare fall asleep in class. However, here’s the deal: she’s been put through stress harsher than the healthy amount (stress can be healthy, you’d argue, because if someone has nothing to stress about, then surely they aren’t alive?), and she’s starting to give out. Her grades start to stagger as time goes by. She almost passed out during volleyball training and could barely button her uniform right for school because of how tired she is. Eunbi’s leading the volleyball team for your senior year after all; it should be expected, but it just isn’t fair for her, and especially not for you, the one you’d argue cares for her the most. 

Seeing her tired and battered makes you refuse to rouse her. She deserves the rest, more than anyone. 

Jo Yuri, the annoying kid in class sitting at the desk beside you, thinks otherwise. She raises her hand high in the air mid-discussion of the importance of condoms, attracting the attention of your teacher. 

“Professor Kim!” says Yuri; she stands up proudly. Roll your eyes at her, warning her to stay in her lane, but when has Jo Yuri ever done that? She quirks her brows back at you mockingly.

Kim Taeyeon glances at the girl's direction. Shit. Wait, she might have missed her—she’s looking back at Yuri with an inquisitive look. “Yes, miss Jo?” she asks. 

“Eunbi is sleeping.”

“I see that,” says Taeyeon simply. She looks at Yuri from behind her gray-framed glasses with a slightly squinted look. “Anything else less of the obvious I should be informed of?”

A few small chuckles pass around the room. Although people won’t say it directly to Yuri, they all revel in her humiliation. Yuri’s the definition of a brat, and not the good kind. Her parents have funded the school's activities for decades, and because of that, she thinks she’s got a one-way ticket out of anything.

Unfortunately, you aren’t the train conductor. You can’t usher her away for every passenger’s convenience.

“W-well,” Yuri answers, a little unsurely now, “isn’t it basic class etiquette to be alert for discussions? You can’t make an exception for her.”

Taeyeon’s lips create a small, sarcastic smile. 

“Kwon Eunbi works hard, Miss Jo,” Taeyeon says. “If anyone deserves a cut of slack, I’d say that it's her, someone who’s been truly conscientious, and not one who doesn’t put in effort even from a place where most of it has been done for her.”

Yuri’s cheeks transform into two red roses. “B-but, but you scolded me when I fell asleep during class.”

“That’s because you’re not an honor student, Miss Jo.”

The quietness is almost death-like. If it went on any longer, the classroom could become a graveyard. Everyone’s thinking the same thing. You can see it from the looks in their undead eyes. 

“Now, Yuri,” continues Taeyeon, smiling, “would you like to say anything else?”

“No, Professor.” 

“I thought so. Please take your seat.” 

Taeyeon lifts her gaze from Yuri. She then addresses all of you, the calm yet piercing look in her eyes never fading. 

“It would do us well if the only interruptions my class will have from now on are insightful questions and answers. 

“Shall we continue?” 

The class murmurs in response, their words echoing in the room. Yuri glowers in her seat, suddenly taking particular interest in her manicured nails. Even from afar, you can see her red ears.

The combined choir of young voices responding to Taeyeon rouses Eunbi from her sleep. Her eyelids flutter, and she gazes at you with sleepy eyes. She still hasn’t registered everything. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” you say with a grin. 

Eunbi looks at her surroundings, then at Taeyeon, who’s continuing to teach. 

“Oh God, oh fucking fuck.” 

Suddenly, her notebook and pen are all on her table, clicked and open. She glances at you with panic in her beautiful face. “What did I miss?” she asks frantically. 

You don’t know how to tell her that you’ve witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime sighting: the annoying kid getting a taste of their own medicine. 

But you smile instead. 

“Nothing, babe.” You kiss her forehead. “A whole lot of nothing.” 

- 

“Class dismissed,” Taeyeon announces. “Have fun at the intramurals, everyone!” 

The class files out rather slowly. Some are caught up in conversation about her earlier scolding of Yuri, and others are still arranging their books into their backpacks. Whoever’s already taking their exits are yelling their goodbyes, waving at her cheerfully; she waves at them, too, with a kind smile of her own. Despite her strict upholding of rules in class and her no-bullshit approach to discipline, she wants to show her students that she’s still a good teacher. She remains the same: someone who wishes to make a healthy connection with her students. 

The last to leave are the boy and his little valedictorian of a girlfriend. It’s been a year since they two had gotten closer. Although they never officially announced it, Taeyeon can see the status of their relationship in the little things: their joined hands that draw envious looks, Eunbi's head on his arm, and the playful touches. It’s sweet seeing connections grow between her pupils, but she can’t help feeling a little... 

Jealous? 

Is that what it is? Taeyeon contemplates as she sits back down. 

Yes, she is jealous, but not because she misses the proud, youthful feeling of being an adult nearly out of high school. She misses those days, that’s for sure, but it isn’t the root of her feelings. (She’s certain—not entirely yet—that it’s because of their relationship. 

She’s only been teaching for a year, so she makes it a habit to catch a pretty face among the masses. For example, Kim Minju is pretty, but the honor student has a different kind of prettiness in her possession. It... attracts her. 

And so does the boy.)

Said boy looks at Eunbi expectantly whilst he waits at the doorway. He’s the delinquent, isn’t he? His wrinkled uniform is enough indication—the punks always dress like that no matter the dress code or situation. They could be at their grandfather’s funeral and they’d still dress like a missing kid who’s learned to adapt to the streets. 

“You coming, Eunbi-ya?” he asks her.

Does he ask her that privately? When he’s fucking her? When he’s pinning her down to the bed while her parents are out of town, as he gives her a hard and well-deserved pounding? He’d look so good doing that; he's far more attractive than he likes to make it to be. He’s nineteen, after all—boys are still like that at that age, even though they’re barely teenagers anymore. 

Taeyeon can’t take her eyes off him. She doesn’t know how to; it’s like they're permanently glued to his movements, like she's only capable of looking at him and nothing and no one else.

What do her moans sound like when he’s fucking her? 

Turns out she can, but only for the girl. She’s saying something to her boyfriend, but with how much she’s absorbing her—her body, her face, her cute little smile—she doesn’t quite hear everything.

Her moans would sound so pretty; she speaks so prettily that she’d sound good even when she’s below him. She’s a screamer, I bet, she looks like the type of girl who’d cry when— 

“Professor? Excuse me, professor?”

Speak of the fucking devil (... angel?). 

It was unusual of her to be caught by her students without her guard up. She has to remain focused. When those large, bouncy things are directly under her nose only restrained by a school blouse a tad too small, it’s difficult to. 

“Yes, Miss Kwon?” asks Taeyeon, brought back to Earth. 

“Um.” 

Eunbi has her hands behind her back. Her eyelashes flutter beautifully as she guiltily fails to meet her eyes, leaving much to Taeyeon’s imagination about a fictive good little Eunbi, who’d sit on her teacher’s plaid-skirted lap and say soft, innocent things like that and—and—

“I’m sorry for falling asleep in class,” Eunbi says in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to. I was just so tired, I… I couldn’t help it. And I know that’s not a good excuse—”

I swear, if you put your tits in my face one more fucking time, rambles the voice in Taeyeon’s head—(it’s been there for a while now, and comes to life whenever she sees the wind blow Eunbi’s skirt up just right, or when the school collar fails to hide the forbidden view when she bends down to pick up a fallen pencil); it’s not my fault anymore if I do anything.

It’s such a raw, wrong thought, because it isn’t Eunbi’s fault either that she’s so tempting. It’s not her fault that those lips of hers curl downwards in the cutest, most pitiable angle or that her body is naturally carved to fit more than a handful. However, when one knows what they feel is morally repulsive, they tend to put the blame on anyone else but themselves.

 “Water under the bridge, miss Kwon. We all have our moments.”

Eunbi looks surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” Taeyeon repeats. 

Eunbi smiles widely. Even the way she grins is pretty. “Thank you, professor,” she says gratefully, bowing ninety degrees. 

Taeyeon chuckles amusedly. “No need to bow like I’m an emperor, of course. Just do your best in the intramurals. I believe in you.”

“Yes—” 

- 

“(,) but I don’t think I can do this. Please, oppa.”

“Eunbi, that’s nonsense. You’re a great player, you’re gonna be fine.” 

Star player and top student Kwon Eunbi squirms fearfully. That many achievements to her name and she still has doubts about her own abilities. 

“I'm... I'm really not,” she says in a small voice. 

She looks around the covered court with fear dancing in her large brown eyes. All these students—her classmates, anyway—are rooting for her. Thirty-six and more have all laid their eyes and expectations on her. She figures that’s probably what scares her more rather than the game itself. 

“I don't want to do this,” she whines.

“But you can’t do anything about it now, can you, baby?” you ask her. Your hands frame her nervous face, rubbing your thumbs over her cheeks. 

“I can, actually,” she says. “I can just go up there, say ‘oh, fuck this, fuck you all; I’m not doing it,’ watch them go bananas over it.”

Her lips have a sarcastic side to the smile it holds, but you know her. You know that she’s actually considering it. For the first time in her school life, she’s contemplating ditching it all for something, anything that isn’t this game.

She’s looking down at her rubber shoes again, but you raise her face to look you in the eyes. “You signed up to play. You’re a varsity player now. So you have to go do it whether you like it or not.”

Eunbi presses her forehead to yours and closes her eyes with a sigh. “I know,” she whispers. “I know.”

Considering your first intimate encounter was rough lustful sex, the two of you actually really care about each other. It made you realize that your crush on her isn’t purely from lust. You care about her, and you’re not happy about the amount of stress she's been under. To be fair, the whole school is suffering, including you, but you’re a known failure. You couldn’t give less of a fuck if your future transformed into a person, went on its knees, and begged you to take it seriously. Exam season is another Tuesday to you: nothing to care about, nothing new.

But for Eunbi? Exams and games mean everything. She has her reputation of being an honor student and overachiever to maintain. She has her parents, who are constantly pressuring her to join every extracurricular activity under the sun, to please. Additionally, due to a particular school board teacher’s brilliant idea to schedule the intramurals a week before the exam season, she has to juggle hours of eternal volleyball practice and studying and tutoring students to make it through the year. She barely has time in her packed schedule to breathe. 

While the students on the bleachers are roaring and cheering excitedly in their color-coded shirts, she's in a tight sleeveless white shirt stressed to death. 

There’s only a few minutes until the most important volleyball match of her life. What could go wrong? 

(Everything.)

“Baby,” you say softly. “Baby, listen to me.”

Near tears, Eunbi looks up at you. “Yeah?” she asks. 

You kiss her sore fingers, the insides of her thin wrists, and the bruises from the volleyball that mark her forearms. Kiss her where it validates her pain. Kiss her where it hurts. Kiss her where it means something.

“Whatever happens in the game,” you tell her truthfully, “I’ll still love you. I’ll still be proud of you. So just do your best for me, okay? I’ll be there all the way.” 

“You promise?” Eunbi raises two fingers wrapped in medical tape.

“I promise.” Make your promise by gently grasping the digits she holds up. “Hell, I bet Professor Kim would be holding up a ‘Kwon Eunbi 4 The National Team’ tarpaulin.”

Eunbi giggles. You both know who you’re referring to: your sex ed professor, Kim Taeyeon. She started teaching at your high school just this senior year, and looks young for her age. Many students adore her, but she only really has one favorite, Eunbi. Always particularly sweet with her, just like earlier, and always attentive to her intelligent questions. If it weren’t for Eunbi being eighteen going on nineteen and in high school and Taeyeon a teacher, anyone would have thought the latter had a crush on her. 

Her defense of Eunbi earlier just adds to your suspicions. 

If Eunbi reciprocates those alleged feelings, you’d see why. Taeyeon is a charmer. She’s watching the basketball game with crossed arms and a stern look behind her round spectacles. Without saying anything, she attracts people. Anyone can see how beautiful Taeyeon is. She gave a short welcoming speech earlier and you could hear the oohs and ahhs of both parents and students alike. 

“Oh, hush,” Eunbi says, waving it off, but she’s visibly more cheered up. “She likes me, but not that much.”

“If she liked you less, she wouldn’t have let you off the hook for napping.”

“It’s called empathy, dear oppa,” says Eunbi, flicking your forehead. “Don’t s’pose you know what that means.”

“Someone’s got a crush on their sex ed teacher.”

“And if I do, so what? She’s really beautiful.”

Take your biased eyes off Eunbi and you’d see that she’s beyond the statement of just “really beautiful.” Taeyeon has the look and aura of an older friend who’s blunt but loving, and would help you out of sticky situations, but not without tough-love advice. Her hair and minimal makeup always look perfect and natural, besides the fact that she looks quite young for her age. 

But you won’t see that until later. 

“See? If you need anyone to do your best besides me, do it for professor,” you add to make her laugh. “Okay?”

Eunbi wipes the last of her tears. She’s chuckling as she shakes her head at her current emotions. She’s Kwon Eunbi, for fuck’s sake, why is she like this? “Okay,” she says. She sounds a little more assured now. “I will. Thank you, oppa. I love you.”

“Same here.” You kiss her cheek. Comb your fingers through tangled strands of her side fringes left unrestrained by her high ponytail and pat her shoulder. “Ready?”

“Yep. Never been more ready.”

- 

Eunbi’s team lost the game.

It wasn’t her fault. A lot of her volleyball teammates kept missing whenever the white ball was plunged back over the net. And by “a lot,” you mean fucking every one of them. She basically hardcarried the team. More bruises started to appear on her beautiful arms, and she looked more and more discouraged as the game time quickly passed. 

The first thing she did was rush in your arms after the game.

“Oppa,” she muttered softly. She’s all sweaty and wet, but you didn’t mind. She needed you, and even if she needed you while covered head to toe with acid, you’d still hug her.

“I’m here.” 

The second thing she did was weep.

“I fucked up,” Eunbi moaned, burying her head further in your shoulder. Now tears replaced the sweat that coated your skin. “I… I couldn’t catch the ball, and—”

“That’s not your fault, Eunbi. Your teammates were shit.” 

Even as she continued to cry, she went to their defense. “Don’t talk about them like that. They did their best.”

If the situation wasn’t pulling her self-esteem down this much, you’d laugh in her face. “You call that best?” you asked.

Her incompetent teammates made you infuriated. They caused your girlfriend’s wane of confidence and more tears right after. It only made your anger grow from a flame to a fucking house fire. 

“I… I just need a break,” she murmured. “But I never get it. It’s all just stupid fucking games, stupid fucking quiz bees. I’m just some toy to be passed around whenever there’s a competition that needs winning.” She chuckled sarcastically. “Nothing more.”

“Eunbi—”

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said firmly, putting a full stop to the conversation. She was done here. She didn’t want to go back.

Eunbi took to the school showers after that like she said, and dressed back into her little school uniform for the resumption of classes later. What you didn’t know is, after everything that happened, she still intended to get dirty. 

The program is still going on. Lee Chaeyeon and the rest of the dance club are performing a dance number as an intermission. As the trendy pop beat resounded through the school grounds,  Eunbi dragged you back to an empty classroom and sat you down. 

“Eunbi!” 

Her knees land on the tiled, classroom floor. “Mmm, just... oppa, let me do this.” Eunbi frustratedly pulls down your jeans. She wipes the back of her hand on her lips. “I saw oppa staring at my chest earlier. He was more focused on them than the game.” 

She’s wrong for that. Well, partly wrong but— 

“Eunbi, aren’t there—” Tap her gently on the cheek when she keeps pulling your pants down. “Eunbi, oppa’s talking.” 

Eunbi looks up. “Yes, oppa?” she asks. 

“Aren’t there other ways to de-stress? I—I can buy you some ice cream. Baskin Robbins, just how you like it. We can even cuddle later if you want to. It doesn’t have to always be like this.” 

She’s licking your cock sloppily now, as if she needed to do it or she’d have to repeat a whole game again. Your cock is her source of serotonin and dopamine—even chemistry can’t teach her that. (Sorry, professor Myoui, you’d say; but it’s the truth.) 

Eunbi, with her pouty lips and ponytail coincidentally perfect for what’s about to happen, shakes her head. “No,” she says firmly. “I want oppa’s cock right now. I don’t want anything else.” 

She sucks on your cockhead severely, treating it like her own candy. The pleasure hits, even though it only affects the tip of your length. You moan softly. She moans, too, and it goes on even without touching herself. She loves being a good girl for your cock. That alone gets her off. 

If the school knew of the little tutoring incident that sparked your relationship, they’d be scandalized. That part is something you know secretly makes her wetter than you can imagine. The cliché, teen love story-ness of it all—you, a guy who wouldn't give two fucks about school even if you were paid to do it, and her, someone who’d die rather than put off a day of studying but would get on her plaid skirt coated knees for you—is something she’d like to roll her eyes at, but it's kind of destiny, isn’t it? Just like the stories. 

What if they know? The teachers could suspend you. Better yet, expel you and put it on your permanent record. 

Oh, but they don’t need to know about how fucking pretty Eunbi can look like when she’s being good for you. You can submit the squirms of her thick yet toned thighs, the passiveness evident in her eyes, and the eagerness her voluptuous body holds to pleasure you and herself as evidence. Nothing more is needed to prove it. 

They don’t need to know. 

Eunbi pauses her effortless bobs of her head to moan. “I love your cock, oppa,” she confesses, though it isn't really a confession when one thinks about how evident it is. Her tender licks already hold adoration in them.

Chuckle. You can get used to this. “More than me?” you ask. 

“Nooo... oppa, I love you, too. You know that. But, hmm,” she licks your cock worshipfully, “this is number two. Mwah.”

“Good girl. You can touch yourself, you know.”

Eunbi gives you a clever grin. “I don’t have to. I have you.” 

Touché. 

She resumes sucking you off, letting out soft “Mmph”s of pleasure and satisfaction as she goes. Over time, she’s gotten better at giving you head. Her sloppiness begins to feel fulfilling, and she learns to make good use of her sweet, full lips as she wraps them on the sides of your cock and around it. Occasionally, she pushes up her glasses so that they don't slide off her nose while she goes about her pleasurable blowjob, which adds a more wholesome and cuter side to the daring fiasco the two of you are engaging in. 

“Mmm, love this cock.” Eunbi gives loving kisses to your length. Her tongue erotically stimulates it with languid licks and sets fire to your emotions. “I can’t live without it. Hmph. All I'm ever good for.”

“Eunbi,” you say, concerned, “don't—” 

“Please, oppa,” she says. Her eyes make contact with your own, and she pouts prettily. “Let me do this. I need you.”

Your cock rubs the inside of her cheek. It makes a visible imprint, making her look like she’s munching on ice. She ensures to devote soft laps of her tongue on the sides of your length. When she takes it all in, you gasp. You’re too wrapped up at her tongue also licking your heavy balls to be distracted by her whimpering. The deeper your cock goes inside her pretty mouth, the tighter her throat becomes. Her hands squeeze your thighs powerfully. 

“Fuck.” 

“There’s more where that came from,” she says cheekily. 

“Oh yeah?”

She nods. 

“Show me, then.”

Her lips part, as if going for an open-mouthed kiss, but it simply takes a couple inches of your length, caressing them with the softness of her balmed tiers and wetness of her mouth. She withdraws, then repeats, but now with more of your cock in her mouth. She looks up at you expectantly for approving reactions, but you give them, and would have given them without her expecting you to. 

“Yes, fuck, yes, Eunbi.” Her hair tangles in your hand. She whines a little when your tip reaches further places down her throat. The jeers and yells of school spirit outside you’d love to join in, but you'd choose Eunbi's cute moans any day of the week, weekdays through weekends. “Take my cock. That’s a good girl. My good girl.”

Although she finds it difficult to deepthroat you, you can see her shiver at being called that. She likes it, oh, yes she does: being told she’s under your ownership, and being treated as such. With your cock fucking her tight throat and your hand pulling on her hair like you hate her rather than love her, it's all true. True and clear. 

“Love you, oppa,” she says in between suckles of worship on your dick. Her eyes are watery, but now from the pleasure of having her mouth used. Oh well, it’s better than negative. 

“Love you, too, sweet girl.” That’s another thing you like to call her: good girl, good sweet little thing, which sounds so corny but fits so well with her. And she likes it—and you can’t deny a good girl of being exactly that. Besides, she looks so sweet with her lips parted to fit your cock like that, and her eyes full of tears. She’d— 

The door creaks open. Oh, curse interruption. Goddamned interruption. 

Wait— 

You look up. Oh, fuck— 

“Professor!” you and Eunbi yell out in surprise. 

A stuttering Eunbi withdraws her mouth from your cock, looking at her teacher with bewildered, brown eyes. You aren’t sure what exactly she’s thinking, but you can place fear in that face of hers. You’re pretty sure you look red as hell, too. 

Kim Taeyeon is standing at the door. She’s watching the two of you closely. How long has she been watching? Or... or perhaps she just caught the two of you in the act? Her face holds an expression of nonchalance, like she’s been expecting this to happen.

All the earlier thoughts come back. You were so turned on by the thought of getting caught, but now that it’s happened, you realize you just put Eunbi’s future at stake. You might not care about your own, but you care about Eunbi. She has a whole, long and successful life in front of her, and you might have just ruined it. 

“P-professor,” Eunbi stutters. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes grow wider as Taeyeon approaches her. With each step Taeyeon takes, she grows more scared. “It’s, it’s not what it looks like! I was just—” 

“Shhh.”

Taeyeon pushes the side of her finger to Eunbi’s lips. There’s little distance between them. Eunbi’s knees would have knocked severely into Taeyeon's if not for the shushing index. 

Eunbi’s flustered by their closeness. Her voice, normally so confident when stating answers in class, is broken in pathetic stutters. “P-professor,” she tries to say, weakly, her hands waving about, “it’s really not what it looks like. I was just—we were j-just…” 

“Resting!” you pipe up, getting to your feet. It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing you can think of as an excuse. 

Eunbi nods. “Yes! Resting! I was lying on his lap!” she adds helpfully. 

Taeyeon stares at you two coldly for a few, long seconds, then chuckles softly. “Resting?” she repeats, and tilts her head to the side. 

“Y-yes. And, and I was drooling, and it was—”

“Miss Kwon.”

“—really hot so I kind of, kind of fell to the—” 

“Miss Kwon.” Taeyeon's eyes flare dangerously. “I told you to keep that mouth shut, didn’t I? Or do you just not listen to your teachers anymore?”

Eunbi’s eyes water. That’s the biggest insult anyone could ever tell her. School life means everything. If she couldn’t listen to her teachers, what good can she be? 

You place a reassuring hand on her shoulder and step forward. “It was my fault, professor,” you say. How to get balls big enough to admit to that? Just ask Kwon Eunbi for a fucking blowjob, that's how. “I wanted a quick, uh, blow,” you wince, “so I asked her to do it for me. It wasn't her fault.”

“I knew what the two of you were doing, sweetheart. I wasn’t born yesterday. My only problem is that Eunbi doesn’t know what she’s doing, nor is she doing it properly.”

“Professor—” Eunbi tries to defend herself. 

“Sit down, boy,” says Taeyeon to you. You do, hesitantly. You have no idea what’s about to happen. She gestures to Eunbi. “Miss Kwon, come here.” 

Eunbi follows blindly, getting on her knees again. She’s still looking at her teacher with disoriented eyes. 

“Look here, sweetheart,” Taeyeon says. She grabs Eunbi’s chin to direct her gaze to your cock. Then, she wraps her hand around your member and jerks upward. ‘Have you blown your boyfriend much?” 

“S-sometimes,” says Eunbi, looking up at you unsurely. But you’re too busy gasping at your teacher's strong, firm hand to return her gaze. 

“Don’t you know that the first thing you have to do is to give him a few pumps? It’s not necessary, but it’s good to get him going. Just like this.” Taeyeon slowly jerks your cock up and down, keeping a grip that’s tight but not too much that it’s uncomfortable. Her thumb rests on your cockhead to rub its sensitive surface, making you tense up. 

Eunbi watches with hesitant yet curious eyes. 

“Don’t go too fast now,” advises Taeyeon. “The whole point is your mouth. That’s where you want to hold nothing back. Do you understand me?” 

Even as she teaches Eunbi how to pleasure you, something that's a little dangerous even for a sex ed subject, her voice remains the same as her teaching one: calm, no-nonsense, and nurturing. You’re a little turned on by it, you’re not gonna lie. Additionally, there’s Eunbi sitting there with her hands on her lap, looking like an obedient puppy as she listens to Taeyeon, ever the valedictorian. 

“Yes, professor,” says Eunbi. She looks at you closely. “Oppa, are you okay?” 

“Never been better,” you rasp out. 

Taeyeon sifts through Eunbi's hair with her gentle fingers. “See?” she assures her. “He’s alright. He’ll feel even better when you learn how to put that pretty mouth to good use.” 

Scarlet creeps onto Eunbi’s ears and face. Her thighs squirm again. “But it’s wrong,” she whispers. Uncertainty is written all over her face. “We could get in trouble for this, professor. I’m, oh, I’m so wet, b-but my grades—”

Taeyeon has had enough of her talking. She leans forward and shuts her up with a firm kiss. 

Your mouth falls open. 

Eunbi's pupils grow large like a cat’s in the dark. Her hands are suspended mid-air, seemingly unaware of what they should do. Meanwhile, Taeyeon has already grabbed Eunbi's tiny waist, insistent on keeping her close to her. 

But then, like ice, Eunbi melts. She melts into the sin, she melts into Taeyeon. Her lips find themselves locked tighter with the older woman’s. She becomes the one who pushes forward, looking for more of that sweet taste. 

Should you feel hurt? Scandalized, perhaps? Angry? You attempt to find the morally correct emotion to have in this situation, and you come to realize that you feel none of them. Instead, as you watch your teacher dominate your girlfriend in a French kiss, you’re painfully turned on.

Taeyeon lets her go after a few seconds. She cups a hand around Eunbi's full breast. Gently, she parts the buttoned lapels of the uniform and helps the girl undo her bra. Eunbi's expression remains one of disbelief and arousal. It switches to pure horniness when Taeyeon starts to suck and bite at her big, beautiful breasts. She begins to squirm, but Taeyeon holds her in place. 

“Professor…” Eunbi whimpers. “Please, they’re so sensitive.” 

“Shhh, let mommy do the work.” The professor squeezes the two round breasts at the same time, licking one’s nipple lovingly. “You like your teacher sucking your tits like these, Eunbi-ya?” 

“Hnnn, yes,” squeaks out Eunbi, closing her eyes. “Professor, I—”

“It’s mommy,” corrects Taeyeon, kissing her student on the lips. “I thought you’d pick up on that, darling. You’re my top student, right?”

“I’m sorry, mommy. P-please suck my tits again. I’ll be a good girl.” 

Never did you think that hearing your girlfriend call an older woman mommy would make you so hard. “Fuck,” you curse. You rise from the chair to join them. You’ve never heard of morality; its meaning evaporated the moment their lips joined.

“No, boy, stay there,” Taeyeon orders. “I’m going to show your girlfriend how to really ride dick.”

All of a sudden, not one article of clothing lies on Taeyeon’s body. The sweatshirt and jeans no longer hide her beautiful figure. Now, you can behold the glory of her body completely. Her form is toned and small. Her pilates, which she talks about when asked during classes, really helped carve her perfect belly. Her pink nipples, hard from the air-conditioner wind, sit on top of her handful-sized breasts, begging to be touched. 

Eunbi looks like she’s just seen a goddess. Her worshipful gaze runs up and down the professor’s buttocks and breasts. Most importantly, there’s Taeyeon’s small, shaved pussy to marvel at. “Mommy,” your girlfriend says, “mommy, you’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you, baby,” says Taeyeon, bearing a confident smile. “Watch and learn, okay? And you,” she looks over at you, and leans down so only you can hear as she whispers: “Try not to cum so fast.”

You’d defend yourself if she didn’t slam her beautiful ass so quickly on your lap. That’s when your cock slips inside her, causing the both of you to moan and, additionally, for you to figure out exactly why she told you that. Your teacher is so fucking tight. Your cock immediately is covered by her juices, from base to tip.

“Oh, fuck!” Taeyeon cries out. Both her eyes and mouth become round at the pleasure she takes in. She looks at Eunbi in disbelief. “You really take this dick everyday?”

Eunbi doesn’t know how to respond. All that comes out of her mouth are moans. You suppose she’s a bit lost about what to feel right now as well. Perhaps she’s rejecting what she feels, which is turned on. But that can’t be it: her fingers are already under her skirt, trying to replicate the pleasure Taeyeon must feel about your dick. 

“D-does it feel good, mommy?” she can’t help but ask. A small part of her young heart is mortified at the scene of her boyfriend fucking another woman, but another part is curious. She’s never seen her teacher in this state, and probably never will again. Eunbi’s mind is voracious on any hints of pleasure Taeyeon feels.

“Y-yes, oh my god,” says Taeyeon. She tries to maintain a neutral expression, but fails. “See what I’m doing? Circle, fuck, your hips a bit, just like this, s-so it feels good for you, too.”

Taeyeon lifts her hips a little, letting the rest of your length breathe for a little while. “Then take a few of it inside to get ready. You just have to get used to the size. After you’re used to it, you can start riding him.”

You’re left breathless in the wooden school chair as your sex ed teacher does exactly that. After riding only the first couple inches of your dick, she starts violently slamming herself up and down. You have to hold on to her muscular thighs to subconsciously direct her to slow down. And she does, but still not at a pace you can take. Her breasts keep bouncing in front of your face, as if they were asking you to devour them or choose death. And, with Taeyeon’s slick, tight cunt around you, you really don’t want to die yet. 

Capture her breast in your mouth. Her sharp fingernails press down on your scalp. Her pitched moans beat on your eardrums. You can barely even hear Eunbi’s soft cries of pleasure anymore, nor can you place the sound of skin slapping and touching. Even the outside sounds of students cheering and referees narrating sound inaudible when Taeyeon’s obscene moans fill too much of the atmosphere.

“Good boy, bounce me on that big fucking cock,” growls Taeyeon. Her pussy grows impossibly tight, and you’re forced to perform your own upward thrusts to continue penetrating your painfully hot teacher. “Give our girl a show, you know you want to.”

You’re not a submissive guy, but you can live with Taeyeon praising you and calling you a good boy. You can live with her sweet, delectable vagina fucking itself on your cock. Fine, you admit you can live with Taeyeon basically confirming her ownership over your girlfriend Eunbi. But more than anything, you want to please her, to please your mommy. So it’s inevitable that you fuck her faster and rougher, summoning all the might you have in your body to make her scream.

Eunbi’s definitely been given a show, one that’s good enough for her to get off to. “Fuck, oppa,” whines Eunbi, ecstatic. The gleam in her eyes exhibits slight jealousy and more bliss. “It looks like it feels so good. I…” Her eyes shut, and her lips purse. “I’m so close.” Her fingers pump faster. Her hole struggles to catch up with the almost brutal pace of her digits. 

“I’m close, too, fuck!” Taeyeon says. It’s almost like she’s angry when she throws her hips up and down, back and forth. She has more strength than your phys-ed teacher, that’s for sure. It’s like the gyrating of her body holds no self-control, and her mind is just on you and your cock, and nothing else. “Yes, yes, make me cum! Make mommy a slut for your cock!”

And you’d say you succeeded—Taeyeon’s voice reaches volumes a human being should be incapable of making. Her legs curl around your waist and behind the school chair to keep you as deep as possible as she cums on you. By then, you’ve sucked her breasts to redness and soreness.  By then, Eunbi had reached her climax. You’ve managed to stave off your own. Some other time, you’d look back and wonder how you did it.

“Good boy,” Taeyeon gasps. She lifts your face up and kisses you on the mouth. “Such a good boy.”

“I want a turn, too, mommy,” says Eunbi. She’s pouting; there’s a whine tied around her tone. “Please? Please?”

Your professor removes herself from your lap. Her body has lost some of its former strength, but her actions still possess womanly confidence. She takes a slow walk over to Eunbi, kneels to her level, and lifts her chin upwards. 

“Only if you promise to show what mommy taught you and clean off your oppa’s cock.”

“I will.” Eunbi nods furiously and repeatedly. She’s more than happy to do that just to have a turn of your cock. “I will, please, please let me!”

She crawls over between your legs. She forgoes the jerking part of Taeyeon’s hands-on lesson and goes for your cock with her lips immediately. Eunbi’s pink tongue glides on the coat of slick Taeyeon left on your length, delicately cleaning it up. The juices are replaced with her saliva. Carefully, inch by inch, she bobs her head on your dick, collecting the delicious taste of her teacher and the musky scent of your cock.

Her throat still isn’t used to your size. So, when she tries to take you in like she did earlier, she gags. You’re careful not to thrust in her mouth too much. You don’t want to hurt her, or block her from creating those adorable sounds of determination and arousal.

“Good girl,” coos Taeyeon, softly encouraging the girl to go on. “Just breathe through your nose, sweetheart. Take deep breaths. That’s my girl.”

When Eunbi comes back up for air, she’s breathless. Her shoulders ascend and fall with difficult pants. “Did I do good?” she asks expectantly. 

“You did better than earlier,” Taeyeon says. “Did he taste good?”

“Yes, he did. But you were delicious, too, mommy.”

“You’ve always been a sweet girl, Eunbi,” Taeyeon remarks. She plants a kiss on Eunbi’s neck. “Just for that, you can have your oppa’s dick and taste mommy at the same time.”

Eunbi draws in a little excited breath. She practically drags you to the teacher’s desk that Taeyeon directs the two of you at, and lies down almost immediately when asked. Taeyeon pulls down your girlfriend’s schoolgirl skirt and volleyball shorts, which boasts a prominent cameltoe. But you and Taeyeon are able to see the real thing after just a few tugs of her clothes downwards.

There’s a genuine smile on Taeyeon’s face. “What a pretty little pussy.” She turns to you. “Tell me, is she tight?”

“See for yourself, professor,” you say without realizing it.

Even Eunbi is surprised. She lifts her back off the table. “Oppa— ah!” 

Taeyeon’s finger finds shelter in Eunbi’s grippy pussy. Eunbi struggles and moans. You can see her little hole clasp onto the singular finger that intrudes its space, and how her enclosed walls part. 

“Oh, ,” says Taeyeon with an evil grin on her goddess-like face. “She is.”

She moves her finger in and out, watching Eunbi’s blissful reactions to it. 

“How can she take your cock if she’s this tight?”

“I’ll—ah!” Eunbi winces. Her legs close together, but that doesn’t stop the greedy Taeyeon. “I’ll do my best, mommy, I promise! I just want oppa’s cock!”

“Very well. Open your mouth and legs, Miss Kwon. Take those glasses off, too, and get ready. We’re not going to be gentle with you.”

Eunbi does as told. The honor student in her is still there behind the sex toy she’s become for you and Taeyeon. Her immediate obedience says it all. While Taeyeon throws one leg over the side of the table and her face, you part her legs. Eunbi’s legs never failed to amaze you. Her thighs, though muscular from running around the covered court all day, are full and jiggly enough to hold and use. Maybe one day you’ll give in and fuck her thighs. Cream them with semen milkier than her skin itself.

But her pussy will do just fine today, you think, if not better.

You and Taeyeon go to town in your respective parts at the same time. You fill Eunbi up with one, hard thrust, causing her to moan into Taeyeon’s pussy. Taeyeon sighs happily, too; Eunbi’s warm, wet tongue feels insanely good inside her pussy. Although inexpert and untried, just the steady thrusts of her tongue inside her can do. 

“G-good girl, Eunbi,” she sighs. “Good girl.”

Eunbi’s whine of happiness turns into a groan after you form a steady rhythm. The teacher’s desk creaks back and forth along with your hips. You and Taeyeon squeeze and play with Eunbi’s huge tits, sometimes slapping them to draw a muffled, helpless reaction from her. But one look into each other’s eyes confirms this: you need to have each other, too.

Blinded by pleasure to be afraid, you lean forward and kiss Taeyeon. She’s hardly surprised, as if she expected that to happen. She earnestly kisses back. She’s sighing against your mouth. She tastes sweet; you understand now why Eunbi kissed her back like a greedy animal earlier. Your tongue navigates every sweet spot in her mouth, curling ‘round Taeyeon’s own tongue, as she fucks Eunbi’s mouth and you fuck her cunt.

Taeyeon bites your lower lip, licks it, then smirks. “Good boy,” she whispers sultrily. She kisses you again, ignoring the look of utter passiveness in your face caused by her tone and words. Gripping onto Eunbi’s bouncing boob in one hand and the other grasping the back of your head, she pulls you in for a deeper kiss. It’s something you’re glad to reciprocate; you don’t want to hear how pathetic you sound moaning because of Eunbi’s little pussy.

Eunbi has never eaten pussy before, but she knows what feels good. She tests it out by keeping a firm, hard pressure on Taeyeon’s clit. It elicits a positive response: a slightly louder moan from the other woman, and the rougher gyrate of her hips. She can’t see anything besides Taeyeon’s back and round ass. Her legs are numb from the consistent pounding, and she truly can’t feel anything besides breathlessness and pleasure. Her mind goes back to what Taeyeon taught, and finds that what makes her hornier is that Taeyeon is forgoing all that she taught—going against her own teachings, being a hypocrite—and fucking her mouth like she’s just a toy. It makes her so incredibly turned on.

“Fuck! Keep fucking me like that, Eunbi! Fuck yes, fill her up, fill our good girl up like that!”

Your thrusts get rougher, and Taeyeon feels Eunbi’s mouth give their all in eating her. The short, blunt flicks to her clitoris become full-on sucklings alternated with tongue-fucking. Unable to handle it, she lets out a guttural cry, slapping one of Eunbi’s breasts roughly, then wrapping her hands around her pretty neck. 

“Come on, toy.” She slams her ass down on Eunbi’s face angrily. Her hands squeeze tighter around the girl’s throat. “Do what you’re good at. Eat my fucking cunt, make me cum.”

Eunbi begins to cry. Her squeal vibrates on Taeyeon’s pussy as her tongue plays with and fucks Taeyeon’s pussy. It’s so messed up, but Eunbi being used impulsively makes you fuck her harder. Her pussy traps your coming-and-leaving shaft as a steady spray of clear squirt goes your way. Eunbi’s screaming, trying to vent her pleasure by eating Taeyeon out more, which causes another orgasm from the teacher. The two pairs of bouncing mounds tempt you, and you have to pull out to blow a heavy load on Eunbi’s breasts. 

All three of you are moaning and sighing together, creating an unholy choir of sin that the school choir would find repugnant. Eunbi shivers as Taeyeon lifts herself off her used mouth. Your legs feel like sticks against a heavy wind. You have to grab on the desk for support.

“Did she just squirt?”

Look down at your wet polo shirt and shrug, finding humor at the obvious question and its obvious answer. “I guess so,” you reply.

Taeyeon’s eyes glint with menace. “Make her do it again,” she says.

“What?” you ask, just to make sure you’re hearing her correctly. Now all the humor is gone. She can’t be serious. You don’t know how you’ll make it work. You’re barely coming down from your high, and Eunbi is at the brink of passing out. You can’t give her another orgasm; the two of you are way too spent.

Taeyeon, however, can go for days.

“I said,” Taeyeon grabs Eunbi by the hair and pulls her up, “make her squirt again.”

Eunbi’s tired frame relies on Taeyeon’s to maintain her position of sitting, but she doesn’t need a hand in her hair again to shake her head. She whines in protest when Taeyeon’s fingers play with her pussy again. 

“Mommy, no! I’m too sensitive! You can’t!”

“Fuck her pretty cunt, toy,” Taeyeon whispers in your ear. Her finger, which slides back and forth on Eunbi’s clit, grows stronger and faster. “Teach her to take a good cock. Don’t mind her whimpering. She wants it.”

You’re automatically inclined to follow your teacher’s instructions. So, when you slide into Eunbi’s snug pussy again, she screams in pleasure. She grabs for anything—your hand, a chair—but Taeyeon pins her hands behind her back. They’re messily making out again. Eunbi lets out her moans in the form of greedy, wanton liplocks. Meanwhile, you cry out feral groans watching the two beautiful women kissing. 

Eunbi’s wrists have fought themselves out from Taeyeon’s hand and have led themselves towards the valleys of her teacher’s tits. You're pretty sure she’s done so to finger her, which is proven when Taeyeon gasps and pins her down even more roughly to the table. They touch each other just the way they like it: roughly and unforgivingly. 

Whenever Taeyeon twists Eunbi's nipples, your girlfriend’s cunt clamps protectively around your cock. It’s delicious—it’s difficult to drag it out when all the pleasure from your hands and Taeyeon’s makes her so tight and wet. Taeyeon’s harsh flicks send wet sloppy fluid leaking on the desk. Eunbi’s inexperienced yet somehow skilled fingers drive Taeyeon to hiss and bite down on Eunbi's full lower lip. 

“Oppa, mommy’s too good,” Eunbi mumbles weakly. Her legs shake. “And mommy, oppa’s cock is so big. It fills me so well.” 

“I know, baby. You’re taking him like a good girl.” 

Giving Eunbi one last kiss, Taeyeon scoots over to you. She’s unimpressed; her arms cross, one over the other, below her killer breasts. “How are you going to make her squirt if you can’t fuck her fast?” she asks.

“I’m sorry, professor.”

“And from the boyfriend of a top student, too. You’d think she at least taught you something. Pull out. Now. Somebody needs to teach your girl a lesson.”

You’re actually glad to be able to stop. Eunbi moans at your hard cock leaving her hole, but she screams again—this time because of Taeyeon spanking her cunt.

“Mommy! Mommy, no—mommy!”

“Dumb little girl,” snarls Taeyeon. Her hand makes several rough landings on Eunbi's cunt over and over with little time to recover. You're horrified. “Aren’t you a valedictorian, Kwon Eunbi? You should know better and teach this no-good delinquent to fuck you properly. Do you even remember your classes?”

“Mommy!” Eunbi sobs. Her hips flinch and retract from Taeyeon's hand. “Hurts!”

The girl yelps and whines, but you can see her biting her lip as she watches the teacher punish her. It took your teacher risking her job and literally slapping your girlfriend's vagina for you to realize this: your girlfriend is a freak. 

“You like how it makes you cry, don’t you?” asks Taeyeon. She slaps the wet folds until the skin around it is red. “Fucking pain slut.”

“Hurts, hurts, hurts! G-gonna cum again, mommy, please stop, you’re going to make me cum, haaah!”

Eunbi squirms and wails, jutting her legs out while she cums again. In the end, Taeyeon gets what she wanted: a spray of fluids from Eunbi’s pussy. She rubs her nub to prompt more of her squirting. The younger girl’s lower body jerks and moves away, but Taeyeon’s hand always finds her clit again.

“It took spanking to get you to squirt?” the teacher asks, slightly amused.

Eunbi can do nothing but sob and nod. What else is she supposed to do? She looks more tired now than she was post-game. Her naked, beautiful body’s wet and used beyond limit. “Mommy… I’m tired,” she says. “Please.”

“Take your time, angel.” Taeyeon slides Eunbi’s glasses back on her face. Behind the lens, her eyelids barely make it past her brown irises. “You were such a good girl for mommy today.” 

Eunbi nods appreciatively. She nuzzles into Taeyeon’s hand. Her whole body feels like it’s going to break anytime soon. 

Taeyeon turns to you with a dangerous look in her eyes. That’s how you know she’s not done, at least with you. She still hasn’t had her load, and she’s not leaving without it.

“Now let’s see,” she says, slowly, walking over to you with her shapely hips swaying, “if your little boyfriend can be a good boy.”

You gulp. You’re in for a long ride.

-

“You sure you can handle me, professor?” you ask. You’re being a hotshot again, you know that, but it’s the only way you know how to deal with nervousness. 

You’re gliding her hand across her thighs, taking pleasure in this stalling that benefits you in more ways than one. In doing this, you get to touch Taeyeon’s slim, sensitive thighs, and toy with her prepared pussy.

Taeyeon’s shivering breath is the only indication of her pleasure. Her face remains stoic, almost offending, as she sits on the desk. Her clothes are anywhere but on her body. It’s not like you mind.

“I’d ask you that same question,” she says. She knows how to keep her guard up enough to make you red with humiliation. “But it seems like I know the answer already.”

Pinch her pink nipples. You’re copying Taeyeon’s way of letting her feelings manifest in her little actions and ways, hence the harsh squeeze of your fingers on the nubs. Eunbi watches on with anticipation, searching for the right scene to repeat in her mind to reach her climax. She’s whimpering quietly.

Taeyeon’s slandering you, you know it. It just so happens she does so incredibly sexily. Finding her deserving of a good fucking, line up your cock with her entrance and rub yourself on her lips. Your tip rubs her clit repeatedly. 

“Which is?” you ask innocently.

Taeyeon’s breaths are short. “You’re too scared to fuck me,” she says, with no less confidence. In a way, she’s correct, but not for long. “Mmm, you’re scared of what would happen if you get to it and breed me. Your life would be over, you know that, and you’d ruin your girlfriend’s potential to excel.”

Sarcastically: “Am I?” 

“Ohh, oh, yes, you are.” It’s a nice save from her. “And that’s not all there is to it, isn’t it? You’re scared of me. What’s promising I won’t tell anyone of what we did? That’s right: nothing, and that’s what scares you. It scares your delinquent ass more than you’d like.”

The table creaks backwards. Taeyeon moans.

You steadily thrust in her, reminding yourself not to be gentle as you would to Eunbi in lighter situations. No, your slut of a teacher deserves to be pounded. If she had to resort to her students to get a good fuck, she might as well get it.

“Am I still scared, professor?” you ask.

Taeyeon’s pussy is as good as the first time you entered her. But now it’s obvious she’s so much more turned on; her pussy grips your cock in any way but gently. Her tits start to bounce again. 

“M-maybe,” she weakly gasps out. “With how small your dick is, I’d see why you are.”

Although her lie is clear, it sends a blow to your ego. You force her folds to welcome and swallow more frequent thrusts. Taeyeon is whining; or is that Eunbi you’re hearing?

Take a look at Eunbi and see that her legs, just like her teacher’s, are wide open. She’s rubbing herself while squeezing one boob in her hand. Her moans mix in with Taeyeon’s as she watches the two of you go at it. Needless to day, she’s enjoying the view.

Minutes later, you’ve got Taeyeon sprawled out even more on the table (if that were possible), with a tired Eunbi still kneeling at her side, as you fuck your teacher’s cunt to the point of oblivion. Your cock still drips with semen and precum from the previous sessions, but your desire to keep fucking Taeyeon’s tight, perfect pussy keeps you going. It’s the defiance, the sheer fucking will to go on that prevents you from passing out.

“I think it’s your thing, professor," you whisper in her ear, shedding the honorifics for just this time. “Fucking a pretty little high school student because you know she's curious, and being railed to shit by some delinquent. This cock—”

—Taeyeon gasps when you sharply thrust inside her— 

“—and this pretty face—” 

—Grasp Eunbi’s face in between careless, rough fingers; she whines pitifully— 

“That’s what gets you off, right?” you ask. “Because you know it’s messed up: how good it feels being ruined by some boy who should be a nightmare but is instead the guy who can give you a good dicking-down. It just isn’t right, is it, Kim Taeyeon?” 

“Oh, oh my god,” Taeyeon rasps. Her eyes are wide. You've just stripped her feelings out for her, one by one, while you rail away at her mercilessly. Her face is red; she's humiliated, nonetheless, but she's turned on. So fucking turned on. 

“So cum for me, mommy.” Speed up your thrusts, grab her bouncing tits before dragging your hand up to her throat. There, you squeeze. “Cum like you want me.” 

And cum she does. Taeyeon lets out a feral scream, squirming and struggling on the table. Eunbi, who was touching herself to you and Taeyeon fucking, crawls over and seals her lips around Taeyeon's clit, catching the squirt she expels. Taeyeon propels herself forward, causing your cock to bury itself deeper inside her and Eunbi's mouth to take more and more of her pussy. 

“Yes, yes, yes, good boy! Fuck me, fuck me like I’m a whore!” Taeyeon cries. Her beautiful face is stretched and scrunched into an expression of pleasure. Her hips never stop going crazy at the doubled pleasure. “Keep sucking my clit like that, Eunbi-ya; yes, that’s a good girl, yes yes yes please—!”

Eunbi squeezes Taeyeon’s breasts and thighs while you release inside her. It goes against what she taught in multiple classes: safe sex, use of condoms, all that, but you want to continue feeling the beautiful wet walls close in on your cock, like it doesn’t want you to leave her hole. 

And if you could, you won’t. But the human body has limits, and it can’t take non-stop sex unless your stamina’s like one of the school athletes. So, you can do nothing but welcome the  darkness that covers your line of vision.

In the absence of light, darkness prevails.

-

The classroom is a mess. White fluid that’s definitely not Elmer’s glue coats the wooden teacher’s desk. You think you’ve broken one of the table’s legs. The floor needs to be mopped with how much of Eunbi’s squirt has sprayed on its tiles.

But you don’t worry about that. Not now, when Taeyeon lovingly takes care of your tired post-sex bodies. She’s dressed now, and although her messy hair and pants indicate a recent frisky session, you don’t suppose anyone would think that. 

 Through it all, you’re still students Taeyeon cares for.

“My good girl, and my good boy,” she says softly. She might be harsh, but her love is real. She buttons Eunbi’s uniform, kisses her, then kisses your forehead. She’s still trying to find her lost breath, but she’s smiling. She’s smiling despite the messed up morality of the situation as a whole, despite your body looking ragged after multiple climaxes and Eunbi’s body and breasts being marked with her own slaps. If she were asked, she’d do it all again. 

“You’ll still be around to please mommy later, won’t you?” 

Just like that, she’s put a mark on the two of you. You’re hers and no one else’s from this day forward, and you can’t decide what to feel about it. You had no idea how to react during this whole sex frenzy, but you think that vulnerable, helpless feeling is exactly what makes you smile. The feeling of having someone dominate you, claim you, own you, especially from someone who shouldn’t be. 

God, you’re a mess. You’re fucked up. Taeyeon is fucked up. And, in her own little way, Eunbi herself is fucked up, too, but that’s exactly why you have each other.

-

Someday you’ll look back at all this. You’ll go over everything—meeting Eunbi, being her boyfriend, the whole fiasco with Taeyeon, all of it—and perhaps you'll laugh a little too. All of it is absurd, and is that of a plot straight out of a pornography video. To think it might happen to you, a guy who’s barely above average, would be the main cause of your reminiscent laughter.

They say high school days are wild. You find that to be true; you just bred your sex ed professor, called her mommy and made out with her while she rode your girlfriend’s face. To add to that, your first intimate encounter with Eunbi was raunchy, wild sex. And you sit in the classroom, with her leaning against your shoulder, attending another class as if nothing happened. Halfway through a biology quiz, Taeyeon enters. You don’t know if your eyes were just teasing you, but she winks at you as she leaves. It’s a wink that says don’t get too carried away, toy; we’re not done yet.

[svmjaeyvn]

sincerely yours, s.jy.

chapter 00. origami hearts. pairing: idol!jake x afab!reader

add yourself to the taglist here

synopsis: where they meet once on the subway but he never forgets her or the encounter no matter how much time has passed

"YOU KEPT MY NOTE IN YOUR WALLET THIS ENTIRE TIME?"

"WELL, YEAH? I WASN'T JUST GOING TO THROW IT AWAY,"

00. ORIGAMI HEARTS

masterlist next

word count: 3.2k

my tags: @slutforsjy @jaklvbub @whowantshota @coolwitu @addictedtohobi (open)

a/n: cute pre debut jake and a little backstory :) (also this was originally written with an oc in mind of 3rd person pov so if i forgot to make some edits here and there i apologize)

— SUMMER ‘19

YOU SQUEEZED YOUR eyes shut. Reluctantly pulling your phone down, you pinched the bridge of your nose in attempt to alleviate the blurriness that came from staring at your screen for an unprecedented amount of time.

The distant sound of the tracks were drown out by your headphones that played music consistently the second you stepped into the subway. With it being the middle of the day, there were less people commuting providing enough comfortable space to find a spot to stand at without being compressed or hovered beside others. A majority of the open seats provided for everyone to use had been taken, leaving you to decide against squeezing between two random strangers although your feet continued to ache as time passed.

Letting out a near silent groan, you rolled your neck in the smallest of ways. Ensuring you weren’t disturbing other passengers, you shifted your weight on your feet. Although no one had turned to provide any attention to you, you continued to attempt to get comfortable until losing your footing upon the subway swaying.

The off-balancedness caused you to stumble back while your feet tripped over the person's behind you. Nearly falling back, a pair of hands were quick to catch, one behind your back while the other grabbed your arm.

Scrambling to stand up properly, you spun around to face the stranger who saved you from the fall. Not leaving yourself enough time to catch a proper glimpse, you bowed down to a near 90 degree angle. "I'm sorry, thank you for catching me,"

Your stiff pronunciation caused you to grimace in your head. It had been hard for you to adjust in using Korean, although with the few friends you’ve made, you still had trouble speaking to strangers as it made you nervous.

Not getting an immediate response, you cautiously looked up. To your surprise, your gaze landed upon a boy, one that seemed to be your age who was gaping like a fish. Looking rather flustered himself, he began to scratch the back of his neck.

"Uh, it's okay. You're welcome," With his words flowing between English and Korean, your eyes lit up. His pronunciation sounded like yours when you first started learning.

Glancing around, you took note of how no one else within had bothered to spare the two of you a look of interest. "You speak English?" You asked softly, your voice low and his expression visibly relaxed.

"Yeah, I'm from Australia but moved back to Korea a few days ago," He replied, matching your level of tone. You nodded, the clear accent shadowed his words that contrasted against your American one. "My name is Jake,"

"I'm ___," Returning the boxy smile sent your way from Jake, you felt a sense of comfort in the Australian boy considering you weren’t forced to rack your brain continuously to attempt at a conversation like you usually did. "I'm from the U.S,"

Jake nodded along."What part?" He asked politely, choosing to further the conversation between the two of you.

"California," You answer, a small smile appearing at your lips as his eyes widened with surprise.

"Oh that's cool! I've always wanted to visit there," He beams, his giddy expression one that reminded you of an excited puppy. With a quiet laugh leaving your lips, you shifted your weight on your feet and fumbled with the rings along your fingers. Although you excelled at masking your discomfort, Jake was able to pick up on it. Standing up from the spot he was previously sat in, he pulled his backpack over one shoulder and made a small gesture to the now open space. "Um, here, here please sit,"

You blinked. Involuntarily, you felt your face tingle with heat slowly creeping across your features. "Oh, oh no, no please. You were sitting first and my stops almost here-"

"You've been shifting in your spot since you got on," Jake spoke softly, this time out of embarrassment as his expression flushed a deeper red compared to yours. "I-I mean, I just noticed. I was going to tell you to switch with me earlier but I didn't know if that was weird and plus, my Korean isn't very good so I didn't know if that's all you spoke either,"

"Oh, um," You felt a smile perk at your lips. The kindhearted gesture only furthered your amusement seeing as how Jake looked awfully bashful staring at you with nervous eyes and slightly flushed red cheeks. "Thank you, Jake," With a slight bow, you allowed yourself to slip into the unoccupied seat.

A shiver shot down his spine, Jake having to resist the urge to react. He couldn't tell if he was more happy that you didn't turn down his offer or because of the way his name rolled off your tongue and echoed like a soft melody.

"You're welcome, ___," He replies, attempting to keep his giddiness at bay but as soon as your eyes met, they quickly looked away in sync. A laughter filtered between you, voices mixing together to fill the air out of the awkwardness that swirled between you two teens.

You noticed how Jake was quite shy, although he did hold a sort of openness and warmth to him, he was shy nonetheless beneath the surface.

As the giggles begin to die out, your gazes connected once more. Gleaming eyes and ghost smiles shared, your bodies subconsciously moved in the slightest of ways to face one another. Jake was the first to look away, overwhelmed by the deep contact and praying he had no sense of blush rushing over his features from it.

You smiled, you found it endearing. Clearing your throat, you shook head slightly before straightening up. "Why'd you come back to Korea?"

"Hm?" Jake hums, tilting his head curiously not fully comprehending the sentence as he was far too engrossed by the pearly smile you continued to flash at him.

"You just came back to Korea, yeah?" You reiterate. "So, what brought you back?"

Jake pauses, pondering over the question. "I, uh," He begins, a small hum leaving his lips. He had a small debate within himself, wondering if he should tell you the truth but as he looked back to you who sat with a doe eyed expression patiently staring up at him, he knew the answer. Looking around momentarily, Jake leaned in slightly, one hand holding the safety pole he stood next to as he dipped down. "I have an audition at HYBE with Bang Si-hyuk,"

You took a moment, blinking slowly as you processed what he said. "Hold on," You spoke, a small laugh filtering through. "HYBE, like as in the company that BTS is under? And Bang Si-hyuk who is the one who founded them? You're auditioning for that HYBE?"

Living in Korea, you understood and clearly saw just how much of an impact BTS and K-pop itself had on the world. Its popularity continuing to grow internationally and you yourself had run in to a few wannabe trainees when you were with friends on a night out. But you could tell Jake wasn't telling you just to boast and make himself seem cool and admirable.

"That's amazing Jake," You encouraged, warmth evident in your voice as he smiled at your positive reaction. "I'm sure you'll make it and do great,"

"Eh, I don't know," Jake spoke, a hand going up to run through his hair. "It's an international audition, there's going to be guys from everywhere and I'm not even a trainee. I probably won't get it,"

Clicking your tongue, you shook your head. "You've got to have faith in yourself," You encourage but Jake merely shrugged his shoulders. It was evident that the boy was nervous, his confidence level low for someone who was aiming to be a soon to be star. "I know you'll make it,"

An airy laugh left his lips. "What?" He snickers, perplexed by your bold words that seemed like a promise. You stared back at him, nodding once with a look that displayed you didn't hold an ounce of doubt. "You.. you don't even know me. I could be a terrible singer and dancer, how could you be so sure without even knowing if I had talent?"

"Well, you and your family flying out from Australia just for an audition that you knew you wouldn't make doesn't seem very likely," You start, holding up a finger as you stated the reason. "Which means you have some form of talent in singing and dancing department," A second finger went up. "Having potential and working harder for the things you want tend to work out for people," A third. "And you're cute. Along with that boyish charming thing you got going on. That covers an all around good idol on the surface level, right?" A final finger went up as you beamed a smile, your reasons being enough justification in your eyes.

"That.." Jake began, fumbling for a proper retort but he figured anything he would say wouldn't be enough to convince you. Instead, his eyes flickered to the ground, a small form of embarrassment from the unexpected praise and blind faith held for a boy you just met. He didn't even have time to properly comprehend the latter sentence of flattery and compliment that came from you as he was already flushed from your words prior.

Amused, you began to dig through your bag, eyes flickering up to Jake who stood in a trace looking back at you with a dazed expression. Repressing a laugh at the doe-y look, you find the packet of gum you were searching for, pulling out a stick for yourself before pausing. Holding out the packet, Jake blinked out of his frozen state, glancing at the half empty pack, he hesitantly takes hold of a stick for himself.

"Thank you," He speaks up, voice softer than before due to his previous flustered state still lingering within.

Humming in response, you began to unfold your wrapper and stuck the gum in your mouth, beginning to chew. Fumbling with the foil and paper, Jake watches as you carefully folds the small sheet into shape. Expertly maneuvering the gum wrapper as if it were nothing, he watched as the folded paper turned into a small heart within a few seconds.

Noticing his curious gaze, you held it up with a smile to display your heart. "A girl I met in second grade taught me how to do this. I thought it was the coolest thing and I've just, sorta done it ever since then,"

"It is cool," Jake agrees, amazed at how quickly you were able to create it.

You held out your hand, gesturing to Jake's that held his empty wrapper. "Here, I'll do it to yours and show you," You offer and immediately afterward he hands it over.

Folding the paper slowly this time, you hold it carefully for him to see in full display.

"So why did you come to Korea?" Jake asks after a few seconds. Glancing up, you intended to meet his gaze but his eyes were focused on following along to the origami folding you were in the process off. A small smile peaked at your lips, the way his head was tilted slightly to the side and the soft way his brows pinched together in concentration were endearing.

"I'm an exchange student," You answered, going back to focusing on the heart. "I just finished my second year of University,"

Jake's head quickly picked up at this. With wide eyes, he stared at you in shock. "How old are you?" He blurts, the words leaving his lips without second thought. The entire conversation between you two, Jake had assumed you were the same age, maybe he was even a little older considering the baby-face look that you had.

"Here in Korea, I'm 18," You answer with a small laugh out of amusement from the reaction. "I was born in '02,"

"I was too," Jake frowns his brows, his confusion furthering. "So, internationally you're only 16?"

"17 actually, my birthday just passed in April," You correct with a small shrug. "I skipped a grade and throughout high school I took college classes so I'm a little ahead of everyone our age,"

"Wow," He breathes out in awe of the information. "So for the past year you've been living here?"

"Yeah, roughly," You nod along. "Growing up, I was essentially raised by my mom and her best friend. Her best friend is Korean and her family still lives here so when I said I wanted to take an exchange year, they set it up and I've been living with her sister and her family,"

"That's really cool," Jake meets your eyes, you sending him a mere smile, waving it off. "Seriously, you're really cool," He reiterates, practically oozing with admiration for your accomplishments. The praise followed with boyish charm as he returned your meek smile with a boxy grin.

"Yeah?" You laugh, finding his spark of amazement rather amusing. "You're cool too Jake," You add, holding up the now finished folded up heart. Although he lost his concentration on figuring out how to make one of his own, Jake still took the origami wrapper happily, carefully holding it as if he were afraid he'd mess it up so quickly.

Slipping your phone out from your pocket, you take note the time. Pursing your lips, you begin to fumble with your bag again. Jake watched expectantly, confused as you pulled out a pen and began to unfold your own paper heart that you made first.

"When's your audition?" You asked, the words momentarily distracting Jake from whatever you began to scribble along the inside of the wrapper.

"Three days," He replied, clicking his tongue at the thought. The nerves that he had since the moment he landed in Korea had begun to flood back, the momentary relief from speaking to you only lasted so long before he was reminded of reality and his circumstances.

You nodded, a small hum leaving your lips. "That's when I fly back to America,"

Jake tensed up. He understood that you were essentially a stranger, the short conversation one that would probably be irrelevant to you later on but to him, you were the first almost-friend he's made since landing. Being alone without his family made it that much harder to fight his internal battle of worries. He had a false hope that maybe your subway talk would lead to a proper friendship but once again, reality brought him to a rude awakening.

The metro began to come to a gradual stop. The cart swaying slightly as the subway pulled into the station and in return, a few passengers began to stand, one including you.

With the pen now tucked away and your origami heart folded once more, you sent the boy a bright smile that brought warmth to their bittersweet goodbye. "This is my stop," You announced, adjusting the bag that was slung over your shoulder. "I liked talking to you Jake,"

"Yeah, me too," He replied softly, his smile evidently smaller than before causing you to feel a tug at your heart, noting how adorable it was from your perspective. His pout indicated that he enjoyed your company just as much as you did. "We're probably never going to see each other again, are we?" Jake snickers, clicking his tongue with distaste at the thought.

"Who knows?" You began, gesturing for him to hold out his hand. Raising a brow, Jake followed to your signal, his hand being held between the two as he allowed you to grab hold of it. Flipping his wrist so his palm was facing upward, your hand cupped his own while your other gently placed the origami heart in the center. Your soft fingertips grazed his skin, the contact sending a wild flame throughout his body and Jake had to resist the urge to shiver at the contrast of how cold your fingers actually were. "If we're meant to then we will, I'll even buy you a drink for our reunion,"

"I feel like I should do that instead of you," He teases as you hum. Your hands moved away from his own, the loss of contact left a lingering air between you as the subway doors opened allowing for passengers to flood both in and out.

"You can pay for the one after that," You smile, taking a step back indicating the end of the temporary rendezvous from the outside world. "Hey, when you're a big worldwide idol, remember that I was your first and biggest fan, got that?"

Jake let out a small laugh, nodding along fully compliant. "Of course, I'll remember," He agrees causing you to nod.

"Good," You hum. Making your way to exit the doors, you stops to turn to the boy watching after you still. The familiar cheeky smile appeared at your lips, one that seemed bigger and brighter than the others and sent Jake's heart to rapidly thump like a drum through his ears. "Bye Jake,"

"Bye ___," He echos, voice softer than before but a fond smile captured his expression. Sparing him a look, you spun on the heels of your feet and began to walk away from the opening.

Jake's eyes followed you through the windows within, focusing on your figure walk away but just before you disappeared from his line of vision, you turned back. Seemingly feeling his gaze, you looked up with a smile, waving a final goodbye.

One that he mirrored. As the metro closed its doors and began to embark to its next destination, the two of you waved at one another until finally out of sight.

Jake let out a sigh. Glancing around, he noticed that the subway was more crowded than before but the seat he and you shared was open right beside him. Placing himself down in the spot, the boy situated himself before carefully beginning to unfold the heart you left him.

With his own safely tucked away in his jacket pocket, Jake's eyes narrowed in on the writing that filled the inside of the gum wrapper. The short message that was written scribbled in a hurry but still neat nonetheless.

The note itself was short and sweet, adhering to the small amount of space and minimal amount of time given to write it. You wrote it out of a final boost of confidence for the boy, intended to hopefully give him some form of temporary encouragement. You figured he'd smile at the message but it would nonetheless be thrown away later on in the day, soon forgotten along with the majority of their conversation with time passing.

But that wasn't the case for the words written held a far greater weight than you knew. Rather than having you forgotten, Jake would hold onto the origami hearts, it and it's message being close to his heart along with the idea of a girl he wasn't sure he'd ever meet again.

©svmjaeyvn

[just-a-random-dead-thing]

~Lost and Found~ (Larissa Weems x Student!reader)

The reader is 19 in this fic!!! The show makes it clear they have students well above the age of consent.

...

Please don't murder me for this being so late!!! I wasn't doing great mentally after mocks so took a break from writing so this was written in small chunks over the course of nearly two weeks so I'm very sorry if it's super disjointed!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (1.7k words)

There isn't a lot of larissa in this chapter because I wanted to focus on some world building and finally properly introduce you guys to the readers friends/my OCs.

Thank you as always to @thefangedman for editing this and with such a quick turn around so you guys didn't have to wait any longer for an update!

The room was large but not overwhelming. It had an almost comfortable aura despite this being my first time inside, as well as despite my reason for being trapped inside.

I slowly made my way to my feet, drifting throughout the room; searching. For what? I don't know. It is drawing me closer. An overwhelming feeling hits me in progressively stronger waves as I make my way towards what I can only assume is the en suite. I slowly push the door open, uneasiness slipping into the atmosphere.

Something isn't right.

I can't tell what is wrong. My eyes quickly dart to all corners of the room, seeing nothing out of place. That's when I see it. A small cigarette case, tucked beside the rather nice clawed bathtub. So that's where the funding goes, Weems is living in luxury while I can barely get a hot shower most days, for fuck’s sake. I'll be bringing this up with her later.

I approach slowly, bending down to collect the case and look inside, to figure out what the source of this strange aura is. I turn as I hear sharp knocking, followed by a very angry - yet almost concerned voice?

"Y/N M/N L/N! Come out right this instance! I will break this door down if I have to, don't snoop through my drawers. I know you've been thinking about it. I just wanted to talk."

I turn back around, moving towards the sink to lift a metal nail file, before making my way to the window, attempting to unlock it. I try to as quickly as possible make my way through it. Weems’ bangs get louder, until I hear one exceptionally loud one and the clicking of heels.

I am just about free when my sleeve snags on a rogue nail, pinning me like a frog in a biology lesson, ready for my dissection at the hands of Weems. As I am struggling with my sleeve she bursts into the bathroom.

I manage to get free just before she can snatch me, darting away; lungs burning as I do more exercise than I've done all week.

I look around: I was at the back of the school in a place I’d never been before, however, my worry of being followed meant that I didn't want to stop and get my bearing - at least until I wasn't so out in the open.

Eventually, after much running and much pain, I find my way into - an abandoned section of the school? I've never seen this place before, which is strange, considering I've searched high and low for the best hide outs on campus to go while... not fully present, let's put it like that.

The corridor I have taken refuge in is dilapidated, walls crumblings with a thick layer of dust clinging to everything. I wonder what happened that they left this place in such disrepair, especially since Weems is always complaining how we don't have enough space, and the board wants to let in more students so they can make more money.

Fine, sometimes I do eavesdrop on Weems... I get bored sitting in her office most days, and she doesn't let me read or draw because it's a punishment so I'm apparently "not meant to be enjoying it".

I crouch down in an alcove close by, reaching into my jacket pocket. Silently I curse myself, realising I've left my book in Weems’ office. Knowing I'll have to go and ask for it back if I ever want to finish it makes me cringe. I can already hear the lecture I'll get from Weems.

Eh, it'll be fine, I'll just sneak in after curfew so I can avoid seeing her again. Resting my head against the wall behind me, I take out my box of cigarettes and my lighter. Weems thankfully didn't find it in my pockets and take it for the 10th time this week. I'm old enough to smoke, I don't get why she's so annoying about it.

It's not even like I'm smoking anything serious in front of her - it's just nicotine, so I don't get what the issue is, especially since I've seen the ash tray hidden the the bottom drawer of her desk. She's definitely a stress smoker.

I shake off the thoughts of her, quickly lighting my cigarette and taking a drag, wondering why I still feel so on edge even though I have reached safety away from her gaze. As I take another drag, I remember the cigarette case. No wonder I'm so on edge, that thing has some of the worst energy I've felt in weeks.

I take it out, slowly examining the gold casing. It wasn't fancy but it was well made and loved. The roses engraved on the front and a small inscription on the back were worn down and the casing itself had seen better days, small scratches and dents littering it. I did my best to make out what the message said.

"My dear___ ______a, I will never forget the ____ we shared together. I will re____ to you soo_, _ith love M_______."

It was pretty easy to fill in the gaps, but the names left me at a loss. I careful open the case and inside there is a single half smoked cigarette with a distinctive dark berry lipstick stain. I pick it up and my veins go black, the loss flooding my body as a specture of the past appears before me.

They are clearly crying, sitting on a set of steps holding the cigarette between their fingers, rain beating down from the sky soaking them - but they don't seem to care. It takes me a few minutes before I recognise the person as my very own principal, but before I can question her I am dragged back to the land of the living. My own cigarette is long abandoned on the floor as my hands shake, my body trembling at the sudden rush of emotions.

Once I return to normal - veins blue and not black - I take a deep breath and return the cigarette to its case, pocketing as I get to my feet. I slowly make my way back to the in-use section of the school building.

I make it back to my dorm, Wilde Hall, without any staff spotting me. Thankfully, they don't typically patrol the older students' dorms, as they are more concerned with the younger students drinking underage and such. Also, unless repeating, we attend by choice, so typically the students behave better than the younger ones, who's parents force them to be here.

I push the door open, only to be met with my two best friends destroying my room.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" They both turn to me with guilty smiles. Noah is the first to speak.

"Hey N/N, we didn't think you'd be back so soon... we were just... um, looking for that book you borrowed from me?"

I roll my eyes at his ill attempt at lying. "The book that is clearly sitting on my desk, and for no reason would be in my wardrobe?" I stand with my arms folded glaring at them both, waiting for one of them to reveal the truth behind their chaos.

Kat is the first to break. "Noah was looking for your leather jacket because he wants Ajax to think he's cool so that he'll ask him on a date!"

They are so fucking annoying I swear, but deep down I love them for it. "You could have just asked, you know I would have lent it to you, so I don't get why you needed to destroy my room looking for it. Also, you should ask him out yourself, instead of waiting for him to make the first move - I've been telling you for months he's into you."

Noah rolled his eyes before arguing back, "Firstly, you nearly murdered me when I took your tweed trousers, and secondly, you say that about everyone! You think that everyone is into everyone, just cause you can't keep in your pants."

Kat chimed in, doubling down on the attack. "You're a total slut! I swear you've been with half the school at this point!"

I grab Noah's book from my desk and fling it at them, causing the pair to throw curses at me. "Both of you are just jealous because I can actually pull unlike you both. Plus I only got mad because I had planned the outfit I was wearing that night around those tweed trousers - I had to completely redo the outfit at the last minute, you're lucky I had a back up outfit!"

Before they can reply, the door swings open and a disheveled Miss Thornhill enters. She is out of breath and has bags under her eyes, likely researching new plants late again, remembering that time I found her passed out in the greenhouse at 4 in the morning, her coffee and notes both left half finished.

"Y/N... I hear you've been getting on Principal Weems’ bad side again. Can you not even go one week without annoying her? She's already stressed as it is with the new student who is due to arrive today, which is likely why she's requested you to be assisting her the rest of the week instead of attending your regular classes. She would like you to start immediately after the disappearing act you pulled this morning."

I groan audibly, before trying to bargain with Miss Thornhill.

"Please, Miss, can I not work in the greenhouse with you, I'm so much better with plants than paperwork."

She gives me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry Y/N, I tried to get you out of it, but you've really managed to annoy her this time. What did you even say to her? You know what. I don't think I even want to know.”

She turns her eyes away from me, addressing Kat and Noah. “And as for my two favourite students, class starts in 5 minutes - hurry up and grab your books or I'll feed you to my carnivorous plants!"

A mock offended expression makes its way onto my features as I dramatically slam my hand over my heart. "Am I no longer your number one student? After all I've done for those plants, I'm now I'm being replaced? I see how it is, Thornhill. You're no longer my favourite teacher anymore - and to think I didn't skip a single botany class because of how much I cared for you!"

She shakes her head at me, exasperated by my antics, and I slowly trudge my way down to Weems' office, dreading the coming week. I knock on the large wooden door to her office, a chill running down my spin as I hear her almost cruel tone.

"Enter!"

-Tag list-

@the-bagel24 @suckerforcate @zerolovestpn513 @multifandomlesbianic @littledollll @freshmoneyalmondathlete @jinxscatbomb @khajiit-trading-caravan

[stars-tonight]

Hi! Me again! Could I please get a romantic matchup this time? I don't mind whether they're long or short (whatever's easiest for you).

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Straight

Age: 21

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

MBTI: INFJ-A

Ennegram: 5w6

There aren't any characters I particularly don't want to be matched with.

Personality: I'm pretty quiet in social settings but if someone talks to me first, I can keep a conversation going. I will occasionally go up to someone to initial a conversation but not very often. With people that I'm close with, I'm very open and sarcastic. I have a high sense of self worth but as part of that, I set very high standards for myself. I also usually meet those standards though. People say I have a good poker face/a scary glare but I've never seen it. People also say I look like someone who "knows what they're doing".

Love Languages: Words of affirmation (written, not spoken) and quality time (giving) and quality time and acts of service (receiving)

Likes/Hobbies: Reading, writing, anime, video games, and listening to music (musicals, pop, and rock typically but I have a pretty broad style). I want to be a fantasy writer and I am currently studying an English major at university.

Dislikes: Spiders (deathly afraid of those), being forgotten when I'm gone, and disappointing those who I care about. I'm also not too fond of really deep water.

What I look for in a partner: Someone honest and caring. Someone who treats me the way I deserve to be treated. I don't really have a preference on appearance; personality is far more important to me. Hopefully I've put a good amount of useful information! I hope you have a lovely day and that life is treating you kindly!

Ideal Date: My ideal date would probably be a going to a cafe and getting afternoon tea before walking around and talking for a bit. Something where we can get to know each other better.

Hopefully I've put a good amount of useful information! I hope you have a lovely day and that life is treating you kindly!

~Eren

headcanons

🥛 i feel like your personality is very similar to that of akaashi's: you're both introverts but aren't opposed to having a conversation; you can be sarcastic with your friends; and you have high expectations for yourself

🥛 akaashi is very good at words of affirmation and acts of service

🥛 definition of a gentleman and princess treatment lol

🥛 akaashi is honest and caring and wouldn't hesitate to always take care of you or protect you

🥛 like he'd definitely be in charge of getting rid of the spiders in the house since you're scared of them lol

🥛 you would definitely leave each other cute notes or messages around the house when one of you needs a pick-me-up

🥛 since akaashi is a big overthinker sometimes he needs a bit of comfort and encouragement

🥛 and ofc he'll always be there to provide that for you too

🥛 post-timeskip, he works as an editor, so i'm assuming he studied literature in college and had a great time doing it

🥛 so you'd definitely be able to connect over your love of books and literature

🥛 akaashi would be your biggest supporter and always offer to edit or help you write essays or other assignments

🥛 he'd also always read any drafts of things you've written on your own time

🥛 akaashi on a cafe date 🤌

🥛 the coffee shop au suits him so well

🥛 but i definitely think he prefers tea over coffee which is nice

🥛 and he'd also want some time to walk around and get to know you properly on a first date

runner up for you was iwaizumi hajime!

A/N: hi eren! second part of our matchup exchange 🫶 i hope you liked it and thank you for doing the exchange with me!

[browneyeddevil]

Twenty Questions: Fanfic author edition

thank you to both @goldenslumberowo and @thesweetnessofspring for tagging me! sorry it's taken me so long to get to this

How many works do you have on ao3?

I have 10 works

2) What's your ao3 wordcount?

85,510 - which is an absurd amount given how irregularly I post

3) What fandoms do you write for?

The Hunger Games. I have thought about branching out but nothing has really inspired me quite like The Hunger Games has :)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Brightest Timeline - Canon divergent Silence me, Trust me, Love me - Post canon The Elephant in the Room - Post canon The unlikely Coming-of-Age of Katniss Everdeen - Canon divergent Isn't it Strange - Post canon

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try my very best to respond to all the lovely comments readers leave. I appreciate them a whole lot and find them very encouraging, I also just like to hear what readers are thinking, especially for multi-chapter works. Although, I admit, sometimes it takes me a while to respond, and there are occasions where I just straight up forget for a couple years.

6) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It'd probably have to be Underground; I kind of killed off Peeta 👀. It's a brief canon-divergent one-shot during Mockingjay that more or less focuses on Katniss and her grief and anger. In retrospect, it's kind of like the evil twin of "The Brightest Timeline" in which Peeta is rescued from the Capitol unhijacked.

7) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ohhh, Full Circle no debate. It's the happiest fic I've written, full stop. It's post-canon. Prim is alive, and Peeta and Katniss find each other again. All quite sweet and fluffy.

8) Do you get hate on fics?

Not to my knowledge. People have been critical of some of my earlier works, sort of disagreeing with my interpretations of a character, but I wouldn't call that hate. I hope I don't ever have to encounter the more vitriolic side of fandom.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Noooo. I get nervous when describing a kiss that isn't chaste lol. I just don't think I'm very good at it, to be honest. I have considered writing more steamy scenes, especially for my WIP's, but I just don't think I'm there yet as a writer.

10) Do you write crossovers?

No. But never say never.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge. I don't think my work is really popular enough to have to worry about that lolll.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I'd be fine with it if I was asked first :) I think it would be super cool.

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, but I wouldn't be against the idea, per se. I'd just feel super guilty, my schedule is very unpredictable and I wouldn't want someone else having to deal with my erratic writing habits, it's bad enough that I do lol.

14) What's your all-time favourite ship?

Gotta be Everlark for sure.

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oof. I mean... if I'm honest Stop the Clocks, I think for me to be able to finish that I'd have to sit down and plan it out properly. It's also just always been a fic that I've struggled to sit dow and actually write for. In short, it needs a LOT of work and care. It's not badly written, buttt it's also not the best.

16) What are your writing strengths?

I'm pretty good at descriptions and being able to bring a setting alive. I've been told that I write very in-character and that my characters are consistent, which is nice because writing a character's inner monologue comes quite naturally to me.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggled for a long time with writing natural and organic dialogue; it has definitely become easier with time and practice, but it's still something that I obsess over a little. Also, transition paragraphs are the bane of my existence and I tend to avoid them where possible.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'd definitely be comfortable with writing in German as it's my second language. I'm currently learning Spanish, so maybe? I think it would depend on the complexity of what the character is trying to say. I think anything else, no. Not without consulting someone who speaks the language first anyway. I've seen first-hand how google translate can butcher simple phrases lol.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

The Hunger Games! My one and only 😍

20) Favourite fic you've ever written?

Isn't it Strange 100%. I put a lot of care and thought into it and it will always have a place in my heart. Rereading it there are some things that I would phrase differently now; and a part of me itches to change it, but another part would rather leave it as a time capsule to display my younger self's writing and how much I've improved since then. Weirdly enough though, it's just one of those fics that never got much attention lol *wink wink nudge nudge*.

This was super fun, so thanks again for tagging me!

I don't know who has or hasn't participated already so if anyone wants to hop on feel free to :)

[lovesastateofmind1]

20 Questions Game

tagged by @sssammich and I'm gonna do this instead of editing so yall know where to point the blame for the delay

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

9

2. What’s your total AO3 words count?

372,061

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Supercorp currently

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

You, Me and The In Betweens

Tempo

Heaven is a Place on Earth

Can I Have Your Attention Please

Hey There... Lena

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do respond to majority of them. I miss a few here and there and I don't respond to the rude ones. I also take ages to actually reply, which is because I'm super flattered and don't know how to properly convey that in words so I procrastinate. A lot.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

If we're solely talking endings, Sweet Dreams probably

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them end on a positive note. But in my personal opinion, Heaven is a Place on Earth

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Every now and then, but usually it comes from Amy - yall know Amy - and even when it doesn't, its typically in relation to my plot choices and not a critique of my skill

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Bro. Yes lmao. Not super kinky. Not entirely vanilla either. Idk that I could really give you a 'kind.' It's solely based on how thirsty I'm feeling on any particular day and then when I have to actually edit it, I want to punch my past self in the face.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Never written one, probably would though.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes and it was so cool to see. Still endlessly grateful.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

*sigh* I call myself cowriting a fic with @fyonahmacnally and @chaotic-super. I also call myself cowriting a different fic with @sssammich. And then of course that series that we absolutely aren't writing. But thus far, most of the 'writing' has taken place inside our own imaginations. Maybe we'll make progress. Someday.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Do you really have to ask me that?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I think I'll finish all of them honestly. May take 3-5 years. But I think I'll finish.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Injecting the most misery possible into a single fic. Smut. I think I have a nice prose too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing lmao.

I think most things are a weakness for me. I'm told my descriptive writing is great, but I always think it needs so much improvement because of my inability to visualize anything ever. But if yall can see it, then that's fantastic. Otherwise, long scenes with dialogue. I struggle so bad with extended dialogue.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Would stress me tf out lol. I think it's great. I've almost done it. But I don't trust google translate near enough and I don't personally know anyone who speaks fluent French. So we all just gonna have to use our imaginations when Lena walks through that parking garage.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Technically, Law and Order SVU, though it was never finished or posted anywhere. I needed Katie McGrath to come grab my inspiration by the throat, evidently.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Lie to Me. Without question. I put the most into it and I'm incredibly proud of it, even if I wanted to set it on fire most days. It's simultaneously the easiest and most difficult thing I've ever written and I hope I always love it this much.

Tagging @mssirey, @sneezewizard, @someoneyouloved93 and anyone else who wants to give it a go, zero pressure of course!

[wordsandrobots]

There are many things I admire in Iron-Blooded Orphans (obviously), but its commitment to depicting relationships that are, at once, the best and absolute worst thing in the characters' lives is near the top.

Anyway, @trafalgarlog's fansubs for the latest side-story off the app are up, Almiria in Love, so it's time to once more talk about how the Gjallarhorn aristocratic system screws up everything it touches.

(Oh, a note: I've always written the pet-name Almiria gives McGillis as 'Mackie' because my instinct is to pronounce 'Macky' as 'MacKAY', not MacKEY'. This is a me-thing and liable to remain for the duration. I apologise for any inconvenience.)

We open some while before Almiria's debut in Season One, at the bottom of the Bauduin's garden where they apparently grow a variety of tea . . . varieties. Almiria is fretting over McGillis' impending return as she wants to make him the 'best tea ever'. Luckily, her maid is on hand to talk her through the properties of different kinds of teas.

I would remind you that at this point, Almiria is nine, which to my mind places the tea-making way beyond her age, on top of everything else. But here we are.

And there Almiria is, mentally wishing for Mackie to hurry up and come home! This transitions into the story of how they met.

It was when she was five years old, at a New Year's party on the Bauduin estate, the first time she 'debuted' in Gjallarhorn's high society. Her maid arranged her in a fancy dress, which Almiria thought made her look like a 'mature lady'. She was so happy that she could have run around, but this was clearly not the behaviour matched to her status.

In the main hall, guests remarked on her appearance, smiling and calling her 'cute', but quickly returned to their drinks and chatting, leaving Almiria quickly bored with the whole affair (kid, having suffered many a family wedding, I relate).

But then Gaelio called her over, telling her that it was time to meet her destiny. He led her to another young man, McGillis Fareed, who turned around to reveal a pretty face 'like a statue in a museum' (my gods, there's layers to that one).

We are then presented a screen of what I can only describe as 'McGillis and Gaelio: Twink Edition', resplendent in standard pale blue Gjallarhorn officer uniforms. Rank-wise, this would probably make them lieutenants at this point.

Gaelio introduced his best friend to his beloved little sister. This, he informed Almiria, was her fiance. Being, again, FIVE, she had no idea what that meant and Gaelio explained their father and the head of the Fareed family had made a promise that one day she and McGillis would be married.

This, as Almiria understood it, was when a man and woman lived together in the same house, ate together and went out together, and argued with each other once a month. A summary that has some *fascinating* implications for Lord Gallus and the so-far entirely unseen Lady Bauduin. But the main point was, she didn't know this man at all, and Gaelio assuring her it would secure the positions of both House Bauduin and House Fareed did not especially help. Probably because the nitwit chose to phrase it as a sturdy house requiring a human pillar, an ancient and terrible fate.

McGillis reprimanded him for being overly sarcastic and went down on one knee to introduce himself properly to Almiria, who once again noted his prettiness.

Continuing to be flippant, Gaelio pointed out this was his chance to run away and avoid being his sister's babysitter alongside all the normal hard work. Almiria did not take kindly to this and promptly ran for the garden.

She assumed, in that moment, McGillis must be the same as all the other adults, looking down on her for being a child. Fleeing to the south flower beds (where the tea was) in spite of a path made muddy by rain, she was surprised to find McGillis following her.

He remarked on the flowers and she stammered over how to properly address him. He told her to call him whatever she liked and said he wanted a chat, knowing she must have been confused to be told out of the blue that they were to be engaged.

Then he told her that it must be her decision. Yes, the marriage was for their families, but her feelings mattered most. He invited her to look at him with her own eyes, and call off the marriage if she found her disagreeable. Look and decide. Does she understand?

Having received a tentative, confused yes in response, he said they should return to the party. Everyone was lonely without Almiria there. He offered her his hand but she insisted on going alone, still caught up in feelings of inadequacy. And off the path she tumbled.

McGillis scooped her up, finding her muddy and scraped. She had better get cleaned up quickly. Luckily her maid arrived, taking over the task of carrying her inside. But McGillis held them back a moment, pointing them behind the hedge. After all, if they went straight inside through the garden, people would see the state Almiria was in. Is the maid trying to bring shame on a lady?

As the maid apologised, Almiria was caught up in McGillis calling her 'a lady'.

Later, at the front door of the mansion, Gaelio saw McGillis out. He paused a moment to ask if McGillis was really OK with the engagement. Almiria was too young to understand and the marriage was being forced on them by their parents. What did McGillis really think of it? (Gaelio, using flippancy to hide or deflect from his true feelings on something while actually having grave misgivings that point towards a fundamentally decent character beneath his foppish exterior? I'm shocked, shocked I say!)

McGillis, eyes shut, asked why he would underestimate his sister. Then, with eyes open, stated that she would make a perfect partner. He was happy to have met her (audible five-year-old step in the background). He would, in fact, be thanking god for it.

Gaelio turned to see Almiria hurrying towards them. Her scrape was all better and she wanted to know if 'Mackie' would be coming to play with her again some time? As her brother spluttered over the pet name, McGillis promised to come see Almiria again and the two shared in the sunset light.

Back in the present, Almirira reflects that it doesn't matter what others say. In front of Mackie, she becomes a lady. And the door buzzes, McGillis and Gaelio returning from their trip to Mars. She rushes to greet them, leaving behind a tray of tea things that she has meticulously arranging in anticipation of their arrival.

(Long, long sigh, and not because Tumblr nearly gave me a heart attack just now when I thought this hadn't saved)

So yes. This is how Almiria first found out she would be engaged to McGillis. And first of all, I need to go adjust my fanfic because I had revised Gallus and Iznario planning this up to when Almiria was seven, but turns out my initial dating of it to when she was four was actually bang on the money. Fire. Riots. Defenestration. Etc.

I appreciate the confirmation of what is 'merely' heavily implied in the series proper, which is that one of the reasons Almiria is so damn attached to McGillis is that he treats her as the lady society tells her she needs to be one day. Her rejection of her own childhood speaks volumes about what it is like to be raised in such an environment and to see that as the crux of their relationship from the start makes so many things click.

It is also grooming. As in actual, not-messing-around, trust-building-for-the-sake-of-certain-ends grooming. McGillis is cultivating Almiria's affection in ways she cannot and will not receive from those responsible for her safety. He has homed in on an aspect of her personality that can be used to make her loyal to him.

But at the same time, we know he knows what it is like to be pushed around by forces beyond your control or understanding. We *know* that when Gaelio asks him what he really thinks of the situation, Mackie is not going to be truthful. Because he isn't, ever. He can't be. What he's saying in that moment is clearly as much for Almiria's ears as her brother's. And yet, is his kindness really an act? Is he making a genuine connection here, to someone in a situation that is akin to his own, if dissimilar in class?

We'll never know. And Almiria, at nine, is just happy to have somebody in her life who treats her the way she wishes to be seen. True or false, it means the world to her and I can't help but think about how lonely she must be otherwise, being groomed for a role in Gjallarhorn's upper-crust and shunted around like a bargaining chip.

None of the questions here have easy answers, and I commend the writers for constructing this in such a ways to avoid giving any.

[ktsphere]

🐞, 🐜, 🪰, 🐝, and 🦗

Okay, I'm going slightly wild with this! Definitely can't just choose one per category so have a whoooole list. Idk what sort of fics you're looking to read, so I've mixed it up a bit, and tried to put in popular recommended reading, and more obscure (but still very good) fics that deserve more attention 😁

Some of these are explicit, & read the tags!

I'd also recommend clicking through to the authors of the recommended fics and reading all of their work - I obviously can't include everything on this list!

🐞 Recommend a favorite fic or several from one of your friends, or a fic author you really look up to!

Everything by hounds_of_love. In particular Adored and The Quick and The Dead. But seriously, go through everything they've written, it's fantastic.

Someoneplsloverobbierotten, in particular The Prince and Princess always kiss and Heading Towards Something New

Everything by Sheepyblue and masterofgallifrey

And, if you're into explicit fics:

Superfast_Jellybitch, Redangel228, TooManyFandomsNeverEnoughTime, HyperfixationALaMode and loveyoutoo

🐜 Recommend a fic that makes you laugh! A crack fic, or something that's just really funny!

Purr-gatory -- the ghosts are cats

Humphrey Dumpty and Ghostober: Humphrey Dumpty Neck Slice edition -- I know you just recced me this but I read them ages ago and cannot get over them, so for anyone else reading this, read them!

Purrfectly Familiar -- a really fun read. Takes a couple of chapters to properly warm up but absolutely worth it!

And A First From Cakebridge! -- Julian bakes a cake

🪰 Recommend a fic that makes you sad (in the best way!!)! Some great angst and/or hurt/comfort!

there til it's gone -- I've cried every time I've read this

Out of Touch -- this made me sob - warning for Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings

🐝 Recommend a fic with great symbolism, or themes, something really clever, or like. just something you could write a whole literary essay about!

Land to Light on

Ghost Stories

A Kiss, Then

Performative (and everything else by inkyfishes)

I've Got Termites in the Framework (So Do You) -- this is incomplete but my god is it good (and so is everything else by gayvillains)

🦗 Recommend any fic, wild card!

two's company -- Mike gets possessed

We Two Alone -- In true wildcard fashion, this one is not Ghosts. This is a Star Trek fic, but I don't think you need to know much about Star Trek to read it. I've lost count of the number of times I've read it and even though I know what is going to happen it makes my heart race, and it makes me cry. Every time.

The next few are very explicit & I recommend checking the tags if that's not your thing

Observations -- Explicit, Alison/Mike/Ghosts

the state of dreaming -- Explicit, Julian&Thomas

The Re-Education of Alan Bigsby -- SO Explicit. This isn't ghosts, but it is about Ben's character in Sequins.

Putting the Ho in Hotel -- Explicit. Also not Ghosts, but Ben's character from The Thick of It. Adam/Fergus

I'm going to stop there because this is getting quite long, but I hope something on this list is either new to you, or makes you read it again ^_^

[literalnobody]

Have you thought about monetizing your stories (on some platform like Kindle)? What are your thoughts on it? Candidly, I'm considering it with my stories, but also i hate all the language around "second stream of passive income" that pops up around it and I'm worried it'll suck the joy out? Idk, just interested in your thoughts on it if you have any

I have some pretty strong feelings about it, but i think it's really important to keep in mind that I'm an unpublished writer with no industry experience, either in self-monetization or in working with an agent or publisher. My thoughts are solely founded on what I've seen other people say about their experiences and my own ambitions to become a professional writer, so it's really likely I have an incomplete perception of these realities.

I want to be properly published some day. My goal is to finish The Water Dog this year, written and edited, and try to either get it in the hands of a publisher or self publish it online. I do want to make money off it because unlike my other stories on here I'm investing a lot into making it professional quality, something that's actually worth people shooting a few euros at.

I think passive income does and can exist, but it's a really aspirational and hard-to-attain level of success which I'm realistically probably not going to reach with my first real novel. I don't think there's anything passive about writing or creating art, it takes a huge investment of hours of unpaid labour in the hopes you'll break even later, and people who try to sell you on "passive income" opportunities with writing either got incredibly lucky or are massively understating the level of time you have to put into creating, marketing and selling your work. I'm in an incredibly fortunate position where I'm receiving a grant to help me create art, without which I would not be able to continue with Rose Tide Rising or write The Water Dog on such a short timeline.

All of this is to say, I think you are absolutely entitled to want to monetize your stories! Just because something is a piece of your soul/a joy to create doesn't mean you cant invite others to buy a copy, and I fundamentally believe that artists deserve to be paid for their work if they are creating a product. I think an artist can create work for free and work for profit and neither is more or less worthy of artistic merit, that creator may just have different aspirations for different pieces. I don't think monetization sucks the joy out of writing either, in fact money can help cultivate joy by way of safety, security, and time to write more. It's ultimately a very personal endeavour I think, a negotiation with yourself about what you are willing to charge people for, what people are willing to pay for, and what you are willing to share for free. I don't think any of those things are mutually exclusive with the joy of creating as long as you are mindful of your own goals and don't let yourself feel like a content factory who owes other people more of your work.

So them's my thoughts! A little scatterbrained but I think you'll get what I mean. Any time I see a writer selling their stories I blow them a kiss and hope they do very well with them. I think in this age of wretched capitalism people can instinctively view "Creator-consumer" relationships as inherently bad, but they are in fact just a reality of making a living. You're allowed to want money for your efforts and you're allowed to GET money if people want to read your efforts enough to pay for them.

[jolapeno]

my writing process

@wildemaven asked a little about how i was writing nowhere to run, so thought it was time to properly break down the process i have [i know people have asked and I've given a short breakdown but here's a more in-depth one]

-> i always begin (for longer pieces) a 'skeleton outline' of what i want to achieve. so, sometimes it's snippets of dialogue that have come to me, and i basically flesh out the whole 'skeleton body' of the story. i don't know the number of chapters as i break them into scenes, and then stitch what i think i can achieve within a roundabout wordcount. for example, for NTR, i try to land around 5k a chapter, for previous, it's been larger.

-> the next thing i do is write the ending. i write this before the beginning to set the 'tone' of what i want to write. it gives me an aim, a direction to head in. it also means i can weave in on the skeleton any main callbacks which would lead us there. it's also a fixed product then, so even if i get a grand idea, i have to come back to the 'why' it matters. often there are drabbles in the folder for the fic that has no impact on the story, but i had to write them to get them out of my head.

-> i then write the beginning scenes, usually. at least the first chapter, i call this the 'muscle and blood' part. so it will usually be 75% there by the end. these are usually the bits i bother friends with and feel i can begin screaming about.

-> once i'm happy with the first chapter, i usually keep writing and fleshing beginning scenes until i'm happy I've got a grasp on both/all characters. sometimes I'll be fleshing/re-hashing these for days and moving/adding things that make the most sense to me as the writer, but also me as the reader. [i'm a strong believer in writing for yourself, so i write what i want to read, and if i'm happy, then that's what matters]

-> i'll normally have an idea of when i can begin posting, i prefer to post as i go because writing the full thing can take time, and it also holds me accountable because what i also do is:

-> i do not write chronologically. writing the first two-three chapters is the hardest freaking thing for me. i write backwards, i write a scene in the middle and then don't approach it again for ages. i am a swine. when i was writing long fiction (not on tumblr), being part of a writing group helped as i had to deliver a chapter each meeting, and that kept me accountable, so it's kind of like this for me

-> before posting, i'll then do a 'jo' edit which is where i sew my scenes together better, I'll likely add more 'jo-prose' and stuff cause i'm prettying the scene rather than telling you what happens. sometimes, i have to make tough calls over whether i want to make it pretty or just tell you, and ugh, i hate it.

-> then i'll do an edit-to-post, (be aware, i'm a little dyslexic so there will likely always be errors, but y'girl tries) and this is normally the day of or the night before i post. this is normally small and minor changes, and then I'll use spell check, Grammarly, etc.

-> for longer series, i try to have at least a few chapters banked to give myself breathing room when i post. currently, i'm one chapter ahead of myself, i'd like to be more, but i had a depressive episode, so i'm now behind.

-> i'm constantly checking in with my ending throughout. just because i have it written first, doesn't mean it remains concrete, things do shift and change but the core 'skeleton' of the ending remains the same because that's what i always set out to do. sometimes more nuance, callbacks or a shift in how they act changes as i develop their relationship so the ending is sometimes a little different in terms of style, approach and dialogue, but the 'action' of what is meant to happen, is always the same.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Interview with Jessica Mahler Part 2

Today's interview is with Jessica Mahler, writer of serialized queer SFF fiction! You can find their work at the following:

Substack: https://jessmahler.substack.com/

Webserial catalog: https://jessmahler.com/webserial-catalog/

Author page: https://books2read.com/ap/nAEEOn/Jess-Mahler

A pre-sale for upcoming release: https://www.smashwords.com/books/presale/1154035/DJNG3G

Part 2 can be found below the cut!

 If someone wanted to get into serial fiction, what advice would you give them? 

Well, definitely stay off of Vella. Amazon is evil, but beyond that – if you go through Vella you give Amazon control of your writing and audience. Don't give evil people control of you or your career.

You need to know yourself as a writer – how fast do you write, how often, and how quickly do you edit? It does no good to commit to writing three episodes a week if you can't reliably write more than one.

Think about what audience you are writing for. I know, I know, trite advice. But here, we're coming from a different direction. Remember what I said before about how I know folks who don't have time to read, so I stuck with short episodes? I went with a newsletter format for the same reason. Quick and easy reads in your inbox. I went with multiple stories running concurrently so new readers would always have a story they could jump into without a huge backlog.

What are the reading habits of your audience? Do they want to curl up with a long chapter each week? Do you think they care how consistently you update? (Long-term fanfic readers won't care about consistency, mainstream readers probably will.) Will they prefer to read on a website? Email? App? "Fast, Good, and Cheap, pick two" is the business maxim. I think the serial equivalent is "Frequent, Good, and Word Count."

You can post good stories frequently. You can post high word counts frequently. You can write good stories with a high word count per episode. But posting good, high-word-count episodes frequently? Not so much. Put your writing habits and audience together, and pick two.

I picked frequent (twice a week) and good. I know of folks doing serials that only post once a month, but when they post, it's a lot at once. You can do whatever works for you – but unless you are a full-time writer, you can't do all three. 

Can you tell us more about some of your favorite stories you've written, and why you decided to write them? 

Oh geez, I have to pick? Tell you what, let's talk about the 2023 schedule instead of making me pick between my babies. I've got 4 stories I'll be posting in 2023. The Bargain and Planting Life in a Dying City are two of my older stories. I started them both as novels and actually published the Bargain. (Please don't buy the ebook, it wasn't properly edited, and I'm embarrassed. The publisher is supposed to pull it soon.)

The Bargain – so, I'm aro-ace, though I didn't even know the words when I started writing this one. I'm also kinky. The Bargain began as me writing the kind of kink story I wanted to read. It's got heavy queer platonic/chosen family vibes and focuses on the bond between people in a power exchange relationship. With fae, magic, a bit of court intrigue, self-discovery, and a few other things.

Planting Life is a world-building project that spawned a story. Hopefully several stories. The original idea was 'how would tech and society have developed if magic existed as a kind of natural force.' So, of course, I had to define my magic, build my world, etc. Planting Life is set in a Bronze age society before anyone has learned to control magic. In fact, magic barely exists in the story. Instead, the story is about a group of traumatized individuals creating a new family and a new start in a stagnating society. But there will be spin-offs and sequels.

The next story will focus on an Archimedes-like character who is one of the first to begin understanding and harnessing magic. Last Lady of Lună is my newest story and grew out of my finally understanding and accepting that I am aromantic.

I just don't understand WTF romance is and that comes out in my writing. See, I write a lot of love stories, but while they meet the technical criteria for romance stories (stories about love and relationships with an HFN or HEA ending), they don't register as romance with a lot of people. So… I challenged myself. I love romance stories, especially paranormal romance stories.

Last Lady of Luna is me making a conscious effort to write a why choose romance story. It's about a vampire and the humans who agree to be her companions, food, protectors, and (eventually) lovers. Slow burn, but I'm told that so far I'm nailing the burn.

Mighty Hero Force Epsilon started as a dream. Literally. There's this one scene, about halfway through the first season, where the Big Bad's lieutenant– anyway, yeah. So I dreamed that scene. And when you read the scene, you'll understand why I had to figure out what happened after. Which meant I had to figure out what came before. Which is how we got here. Folks familiar with the genre will recognize it as a sentai story (think Power Rangers if you aren't familiar with anime). 

When it comes to writing serial fiction, finding a place to host it can be a challenge. Why did you decide on using Substack, and what advice can you give others who want to check out that platform for themselves? 

I went with Substack because it's a good newsletter platform. It doesn't make me pay to have a subscription set up when I have less than 50 subscribers and allows 'adult content'. I'm looking at alternatives because the navigation is a pain. (New readers should start on the website to get caught up.) And I'm hearing things about the folks running it being transphobic.

Turns out my web host, Dreamhost, has built-in newsletter functionality now. So that's a thing I'm looking at. But yeah, finding hosting can be a challenge, which is why I'm still here. Just… try not to stress the stats. I've had days where Substack told me I had 0 views, 1 like, and 1 comment. I've had it tell me that I had a like from a subscriber who supposedly has never opened a single email.

You should never take numbers (other than number of subscribers) too seriously if you can help it – you never know how they're calculated. But extra don't take Substack numbers seriously. 

Any last thoughts to share?

I should do a 'call to action,' shouldn't I? The truth is I suck at all that marketing shit. I took courses and read books about it. I just make a fool of myself when I try. So I mostly have fun with my writing and don't worry about it.

But there's a reason I reached out when you posted about doing interviews: I need a service dog, and I can't afford one without bumping my writing income.

So, 'for folks watching at home,' as they used to say, here's the pitch. If you like original world sff with queer characters, queer love stories, and queer takes on family (and you want to help out a disabled author): grab a subscription and tell all your friends how awesome it is.

And please check out their preorder sale for their next book here!

[reinvent-and-believe]

Oooh 5,9 and 10?? 🖤

5. The fic you're most proud of writing?

Hmm. So, a toss up. It's silly, but I actually really, really like tied up in this yoga knot. I think it's funny and I had such a good time with my yoga mums. It was also my first (published) foray into writing Roy and Jamie, and I just fell in love so hard. Plus it was the first time anyone made a meme about my fic 😂

The other contender is saying your names. It spans the life of trans man Geralt from a very young age, exploring the different names and monikers he acquires throughout the years, all from the POV of his mother, Visenna. It's one of the most personal things I've ever written, and I'm really happy with it. I don’t know that I’ve ever found any writing I’ve ever done so healing as that.

Plus, someone so, so special told me it was “meandering and lovely, like a snake in your guts.” That was exactly my intention, so that’s incredibly validating. But beyond that, when it’s someone that, at the end of the day, you’re always sort of writing for, it stays with you. 💗

9. Biggest pet peeve when writing

FIGURING OUT SOMETHING DIDN’T SYNC PROPERLY EVEN THOUGH YOU ABSOLUTELY HIT SAVE AFTER YOU JUST EDITED IT SOOOOOOO FUCKING CLOSELY. I STILL find issues I’ve already fixed any time I open the WillRoyJamie fic.

10. Best/funniest comment you've ever gotten on a fic?

adsjkj I'm so glad you asked. Okay, so, obviously the one mentioned above stands out, as does every comment the incredible @kuwdora has ever left in her life. I've gotten some of the nicest comments ever from the nicest people ever, but the FUNNIEST comment remains this beauty left on accustomed to his face:

THE LAST LINE MADE ME GASP THIS WAS SO ACADEMICALLY IMPORTANT YOURE SUCH A GOOD AUTHOR I FEEL PROVOLEGED TO HAVE READ YOUR FICS THANK UOU FOR THIS ONE SPECIFICALLY also i am high and i can’t remember how to google but if you know the answer to this, I would be wicked appreciative—is Pretty Woman with Julia Robert’s ALSO pygmalion coded?!!?!?? I was not aware that My Fair Lady was based on Pygmalion and I was really excited by the revelation. Puzzle pieces for my sober self to find….

If this person follows me on here I'm definitely not trying to put you on blast, but listen, I laughed out loud for a very long time over this comment, and it still makes me laugh every time I think about it. Calling my dumb lil fic academically important, "also i am high and i can't remember how to google," the trail of breadcrumbs for their sober self...a work of art from start to finish. As someone who has found notes in my phone addressed to “TO SOBER SAM”…just the biggest of moods. Oh commentor you are brave and beautiful and I hope you're having a great day.

ask me fic questions! 💖