#answer stuff tag but without drawing

[askgart]

hwat do you think

I AGREE I AGREE! I love this..Garthnor def fits better than what I had thought for before I think (the trashbag💔)

I wanna draw them doing the poses now..

[lucabyte]

I don't know how everyone isn't also always constantly thinking about how burial rites seem to be potentially one of the few things Siffrin instinctively remembers about their culture. But rest assured. I am in fact always thinking about it.

Textless version where they're just hanging out. It's fine!

[asktotallyhuman]

Oh my goodness! I wonder what questions we have to ask to see what happened?

//Well if there's something you wanna know about, you gotta ask about it! Whether or not the character answers, or answers in the RIGHT way...well, maybe there's a way to get one character to "loosen their lips", and maybe there's another character who's already willing to answer. Or, perhaps, the other can tell you how to get the first to talk. Who knows?

[skye-obsolete]

Lip balm

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ synopsis┆ : Chapped lips are always a hassle, but you found a solution to it.

ᯓ❅ ┆ tags┆ : short fiction, soft, fluff & possible OOC

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

You grumbled softly at the uncomfortable sensation of your dry lips. It had been a constant problem lately. Fortunately, you always carried a chapstick with you. You shifted slightly from Xavier’s warm embrace, where you had been cuddling, and his eyes followed you, curious. As you rummaged through your bag, he silently observed your movements with a calm fascination.

Pulling out the chapstick, you removed the cap, the pop sound breaking the silence of the room. You applied it slowly, biting and plucking your lips gently to ensure the balm spread evenly. When you turned back, you found Xavier watching you intently, his eyes filled with a curious softness, as if he were studying something new. He looked almost childlike in that moment, an adorable curiosity lighting up his features, which made you chuckle.

Returning to his side, you snuggled back into his arms, and he welcomed you without hesitation, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you in closer, his warmth enveloping you again.

“What was that?” he asked, a hint of curiosity lingering in his tone.

“Lip balm,” you replied casually, looking up at him with a playful smile. “For dry lips.”

He nodded thoughtfully, his usual composed expression softening as he mused. That’s when you noticed his own lips, slightly cracked at the edges. “You’ve got some dry lips too,” you pointed out, mimicking the motion on your own lips.

Xavier blinked, touching his bottom lip absentmindedly. You reached for the chapstick again but paused, a mischievous idea forming.

“Xavier,” you called, drawing his attention with a sly tone. He looked at you, still innocently curious, and you cupped his cheeks gently. Leaning in, your lips met his in a soft kiss, the balm transferring smoothly onto his lips.

When you pulled away, you couldn’t hide your triumphant smirk. His reaction was priceless—his ears turned a faint shade of red, and a soft blush crept over his cheeks. He blinked a few times, his gaze softening as he smiled at you, as if you had just made him fall for you all over again.

“Again,” he whispered, his voice even softer than before.

“What—”

“Kiss me again.”

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

“Ugh… my lips are cracked again,” you groaned in frustration. The cold, rainy weather lately had done a number on your skin, especially your lips. It was becoming annoyingly routine.

Zayne, sitting at his desk reviewing surgical documents, sighed softly at your complaint. Without looking up, he shook his head in mild exasperation. “You should drink more water. Hydration is key.”

You pouted at his statement, knowing full well you’d been drinking plenty. “I do drink enough,” you countered, unconsciously licking your lips, which brought a brief but welcome relief.

Zayne glanced up at you from his papers, his sigh a bit louder this time. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a tube of lip balm and handed it to you. “Don’t lick your lips. When the saliva dries, it’ll make things worse.”

Accepting the balm, you stared at him, your eyes narrowing as they landed on his lips. “Wait, do you usually use this stuff?” you asked, a little surprised.

“I do,” he answered simply, his attention shifting back to his documents. You couldn’t help but notice how smooth and slightly glistening his lips looked, a fact that made you impulsively want to lean in and kiss him. You leaned forward slightly, but Zayne was quick, placing a firm hand on your shoulder before you could close the distance.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone calm but knowing.

Caught in the act, you huffed in mock annoyance, retreating with a playful pout. “I wanted to kiss you since you’ve already got balm on your lips…” Your voice trailed off, a little embarrassed by your boldness.

Zayne didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he set his papers aside, cupping your cheek with one hand as he expertly uncapped the balm with the other. He applied it to your lips with a gentle touch, the cool sensation of the balm contrasting with the warmth of his hand.

Just when you thought it was over, he finished applying the balm, then leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The kiss was tender, yet it left your heart racing, as if it had been your first kiss all over again.

“There,” he murmured, pulling away, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smile. You were certain you’d melt into a puddle right there on the spot.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

“Rafayel! You need to put some lip balm on, your lips are cracking,” you said, arms crossed as you lightly scolded the ever-dramatic mermaid.

He huffed in response, crossing his own arms in an exaggerated manner and turning away from you with a sharp flick of his hair. “No! I’ve never used that stuff, and I don’t plan on starting now. You’re my bodyguard, not my nanny!”

It was impossible not to laugh at his theatrics. Most of the time, you felt more like you were babysitting him than anything else, whether you were on duty or spending time together outside of work.

Rafayel narrowed his gaze when he heard your chuckle. “Are you laughing at me?” he asked, a suspicious edge to his tone.

“Not at all,” you said with a smile that betrayed your denial. “But seriously, if you don’t use something, your lips will start bleeding.” You held out a tube of chapstick, but he shook his head vehemently.

“I’ll survive,” he retorted, turning his head stubbornly.

You rolled your eyes and opened the tube, stepping closer. He backed away immediately, like a startled cat. “I don’t need it!”

“You do!” you insisted, gripping his chin gently, but he kept squirming and moving, making it impossible to apply the balm. You probably smeared it on his cheek at this point.

“Stay still!” you laughed, struggling to keep up with his evasive maneuvers.

“No!” he whined dramatically, but you had a trump card. Without warning, you leaned in and kissed him, catching him completely off guard. His eyes widened, and he froze in place as your lips met his, allowing you to finally apply the balm.

Pulling back, you smirked and gave him another quick peck. “See? Now your lips are nice and smooth whenever I kiss you.”

Rafayel was left speechless, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He blinked, clearly malfunctioning from the surprise kiss.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

Sylus chuckled as he examined your collection of lip balms, spread across the bedside table. His deep voice resonated in the room, a soft echo in the intimate setting. “Why do you need so many different lip balms?”

You were lying on your stomach, scrolling through your phone, only half-listening. “In case I lose one,” you said nonchalantly, barely glancing up.

“Uh-huh,” Sylus drawled, clearly amused. “And you need two extra pairs?”

“They smell different,” you added, more engaged in your screen than the conversation. When you finally glanced up, you saw him inspecting the melon-flavored balm you used most often.

He twisted off the cap, raising it to his nose. “Smells like melon, all right,” he commented.

“Don’t you use one?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied him.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, leaning against the edge of the bed. “Not really,” he replied smoothly. His eyes flickered with interest as he glanced at your lips. “What flavor are you wearing now?”

“Strawberry, I think?” you replied, a bit unsure. You touched your lips, trying to catch the scent.

Sylus smirked at your uncertainty. “Why don’t you try tasting it?”

Your brows furrowed, about to respond when Sylus leaned in, pressing his lips to yours before you could say another word. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his tongue darted out, grazing your bottom lip.

The kiss took your breath away. When he pulled back, his signature smirk was firmly in place. “You’re right,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “There’s no taste.”

Your lips tingled, and you could only stare at him, still processing what had just happened. Sylus motioned to his own lips, now coated with your chapstick. “Guess I use lip balm now too.”

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

╰｡ Author's Note: I had this idea for a while now HAHA, glad to have written it off. For once, I didn't stumble much on Zayne's part actually. Also I apologize for the different blog designs (especially my pinned post) but I was trying to keep the designs more minimal since at some websites and especially in phones there's some symbols that can't be seen. I hope I eliminated that one.

I probably should work more on my tags as well.

[sharkylass]

im so in love with 'in repetition and change'. genuinely such an interesting concept with INCREDIBLE art to boot !!!!!! so i just. have to say how much i adore it

but! i was going through the irac tag and noticed that. isa's wish isnt stated anywhere! you mentioned that you know his wish, but !!! i am going crazy thinking about what he couldve wished for !!!!!

so i must ask. what did he wish for, and what was his equivalent of the act 5 finale fight? how did he learn to let go of his wish ??? im losing it

thats all, thank you for making this stellar au :))

Yeah no I also wonder what got him eternally stuck [MASTERPOST]

Also some more stuff, cause I made quite a lot for this-

Death Loop gif, for fun. I initially did the audio for this but I leave you with this.

Sif eating with em big cheeks like they were meant to

And of course, the drawings.

I also didn't get to answer one of the questions- I am not fully sure if Isa told everyone about the timeloops. Tho the way I imagine it is that he told them the entirety of Act 2, and after reaching the end he stopped, but I'm just not sure how that would work with the timeloop mechanically.

Maybe in order to do the friend quests he has to pretend he doesn't know everything that's gonna happen, and during that loop the game asks you to go through without skipping- After that he probably just stopped telling them and just pretended everything was fine.

[glowettee]

i need tips to stop oversharing

everyone’s always like “if you be mysterious, people want to be friends with you” but i CAN’TT

UGH I HATE IT SMM ITS LIKE PPL SMILE AT ME AND I START YAPPING TO THEM ABOUT EVERYTHING

i’m so weirdddd ughhh

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 ♡ 𝒂 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍’𝒔 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

hi angel 🩰 mindy here....

first of all, you're not weird. you’re human, and also really, really self-aware, which is honestly a sign of emotional intelligence. oversharing isn’t a character flaw, it’s just a form of vulnerability that’s maybe lacking a little bit of direction right now. and you know what? that can definitely be rewired.

but you’re right. there’s something so deliciously powerful about being unreadable. not cold. not distant. just quietly self-contained. you know, that one girl in your class who always looks like she knows more than she’s saying. being mysterious doesn’t mean suppressing your personality, it means curating what parts of you, you reveal, and when. think: allure, not silence.

so, if you’re ready to stop trauma-dumping after someone tells you they like your lip gloss... let’s get into your ✧ anti-oversharing glow-up ✧. - love youuuu

✧‧˚ 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 ✧‧˚

❥ step one: create your “public” script sometimes we overshare because we don’t have a “go-to” version of ourselves for light conversation. so when someone gives us an opening, our brain kind of panics and goes “quick! say literally anything!” and out comes your ENTIRE 7th grade story arc.

to fix this, create a mental ‘highlight reel’ version of yourself for casual convos. i call this your “glow-up script.” these are a few cute, polished, semi-surface-level anecdotes and answers you intentionally rehearse for common situations:

✧ how’s school going? → “it’s been intense but i kind of love it. i’ve been really into productivity stuff lately.” ✧ what do you like to do? → “mostly reading & making pinterest boards like it’s my job.” ✧ how was your weekend? → “super recharging. i’ve been trying to stay offline more lately.”

this gives you a comfy, consistent personality to draw from without reaching into the emotional deep end. bonus: people will find you intriguing because you’re selective.

❥ step two: let silence stretch a little a lot of us overshare because we feel pressure to fill silence. like, someone says something and you feel like you have to respond instantly and enthusiastically or it’s rude. but silence isn’t awkward unless you panic about it.

instead, practice the ✧ micro pause ✧. when someone asks you a question or makes a comment, pause for two full seconds before you answer. let your eyes flick away for a beat. this one trick shifts the vibe completely. it gives you space to choose your words and makes you appear way more composed and thoughtful. think of it as conversational ballet: graceful, intentional, a little mysterious.

❥ step three: replace “omg same!” with “that’s so interesting” oversharing often starts when we relate too hard too fast. someone mentions their cat and suddenly you’re spilling about the time yours almost got run over and how that spiraled into your fear of loss and attachment theory.

instead of instantly jumping into your version of the topic, try observing it in them.

✧ “that’s so interesting, what’s your cat like?” ✧ “wait that’s such a unique story, tell me more.”

this helps you break the reflex to center the convo on yourself. you stay warm and curious without handing over your diary.

✧‧˚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒖𝒑𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆 ✧‧˚

❥ develop a ✧ private life aesthetic ✧ if you want to stop oversharing, you need to fall in love with the idea of being private. romanticize it. write diary entries no one will ever read. take photos you don’t post. go to cafes without tagging the location. being private isn’t being lonely, it’s creating a secret world so rich and beautiful that you don’t need external validation.

❥ use a “mental filter” before you speak before you say something personal, ask yourself:

✧ is this earned information, or am i offering it to feel accepted? ✧ would i regret this if it got repeated? ✧ is this helping the conversation or derailing it? ✧ am i sharing this for connection or out of nervousness?

if it’s not intentional, save it for later, or your journal.

❥ try“gentle deflection” you don’t have to answer every question. if someone gets too nosy or the convo feels like it’s tilting into overshare territory, try a soft pivot.

✧ “hmm that’s a long story, maybe another day. but tell me about you!” ✧ “haha i’ve blocked that era out. what about you though?”

play it like a game. you stay in control of the narrative while still being cute & open.

✧‧˚ 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒚’𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒔 ✧‧˚

❀ when i catch myself about to overshare, i mentally switch into ✧ editor mode ✧ like i’m revising a diary entry. i ask: “does this version of me feel like the version i want to become?” if not, i scale it back.

❀ i also keep a “burn book” journal (not for meanness, just raw thoughts) where i can word vomit everything and no one sees it. it satisfies the urge to get it out without the regret.

❀ lastly, i pretend i’m the main character of a book that’s still being written. no author spills the whole plot in chapter one. they drop breadcrumbs. a line. a glance. a sentence that makes people curious. you are the enigma. the slow-burn story. don’t give them the whole novel.

you’re not too much. you’re just overflowing with personality, and now you’re learning how to bottle it in perfume instead of spilling it like water. and i promise... the more you stay grounded, the more you’ll see how people lean in, want to know more, wonder about you. it’s not fake. it’s just strategic softness.

your power has always been in your words. now you’re learning how to use them, not waste them.

you’re becoming the mystery. the “i wonder what she’s thinking” girl. the “she smiled but didn’t say much” kind of energy. lol.

and trust me, it'll work like wonders.

always here for you, — 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒚 ♡ glowettee hotline operator ☎︎✨

[askgart]

Is this Real? Can anyone Confirm?

[celorangeine]

YAY 😁😁😁😁 thank you for this......so wonderful. they're so SILLY!

well HELLO! !!!! 😈😈 I've come to shoot back at you and ask for interactions between your ocs and mine. I love your art btw 😝😁😁

Hello there… 😈😈😈. I’m very excited for this one, but i am sorry for the tiny wait… i waited until I had an actual free block so i can ponder this correctly… (i love your art, i still need to draw your ocs. I still haven’t recovered over the Vohn art you picasso-ed.) (Also this is color coded as usual! so this shall be dang long.)

-Marcus would undoubtedly be intimidated by Yuudai, he wouldn’t try to hide that fact either. He’d probably feel like he had to walk on eggshells around him, that was especially the case whenever Yuudai had first moved to Bullworth, He didn’t know what to expect of him. And the unexpected is by far one of his worst fears, for SURE.

-Marcus would probably try to do some of his science work for him, which is a pretty crazy stretch for him—it’s like stomping out all of his pride. But… it’s a silent plea for Yuudai not to beat his ass. He eventually stopped doing those things once he got to the idea that he didn’t actually care about him, so now they just kind of exist near each-other when they ‘interact’. Marcus doesn’t particularly dislike him, but the fear is still there.

-BENNIE on the other hand, Marcus withers away just a little bit every time they interact. Imagine the ash baby meme. It’s less of a HATE dynamic and more of a character typical annoyance issue. Marcy doesn’t hate him, but their personalities clash so hard to the point it’s almost insane. He’d probably tell him to hush or lower his voice on multiple accounts.

-Marcus hates being ‘teased’, he takes himself far too seriously for that, which is another reason he perishes little by little every time they interact with one another. Any time Bennie would try to make conversation with him he would shake his head immediately and distance himself as soon as possible. (When Bennie would trade their glasses and mock him Marcus would just squint at him. “Very very funny, asshole. Give them back, you’ve done that for long enough. I don’t even sound like that—”)

-Rudy time!!

-Bennie would be a friend of his, he’d find him easy to be around, or entertaining—it’s a mix of both. I think they would definitely hang out more.

-He’d bring Bennie to games, even though he doesn’t particularly care for hockey he’d go there to see him—just to give them something else in common. They could go to one of Bullworths random games and shout obnoxiously from the bleachers (games that Rudy isn’t actively in).

-But, you’re definitely right. Rudy would be a snitch. That would really be the only thing Rudy would seriously criticize about Bennie, he’d try to express to him that he thinks he’s being far to reckless, that he needs to find another way to channel his restlessness. Stuff like that. He would keep a couple things from the teachers/prefects to save him, but eventually he would cave in and snitch on him in the end. It’s in his blood or something…

-Rudy would like Yuudai, he’s always thought that the greasers were a cool bunch. When Yuudai first came to Bullworth he tried to befriend him, even if they didn’t have much in common initially.

-When offered Yuudai’s answers he would decline, sure… he cheats on the down low, but he respects Yuudai—he doesn’t want him to think of him as the hypocrite he truly is, so he tries to very obviously deflect every offer.

-They could do their hair together, I think Rudy would try to steal his hair gel. And try on the leather jacket, he’d make jokes about he looks like he’s in Grease. Or, just try to act all cool.

- I think overall he’d just try to make as much interaction as he could, without actually going to the shop—because he would most likely just get kicked out.

Last but not least.. Vohn time! -

-Vohn would like Bennie, and he wouldn’t exactly mind his pranks—he’d just see it as his own little thing. Like when people say ‘boys will be boys!’ that’s kind of it, plus he’s just kind of oblivious. He’d probably even give him the resources to do so at times, why not?

-The two of them would be pretty different, definitely. There is no doubt. But he doesn’t mind, Vohn just likes making friends whenever he CAN, so he takes whatever he can get. He’d just sit quietly while Bennie talks to him, that would be most of every one of their conversations.

-Vohn would like Yuudai as well, they’d be similar for sure. He’d find him interesting, style wise and just personality wise in general. Their interactions would be chill, Vohn would ask a few questions about him—then go back to sitting in silence as they smoke.

-He wouldn’t know how to respond to him calling him an old man though, but he wouldn’t object. Just sit there awkwardly.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Locked Out of Heaven 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father invites a work friend to the neighbourhood barbecue.

Characters: Nick Fowler (Dad’s friend trope)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Abruptly, you still your hand. You close your eyes and temper out a breath through your nose. Your insides twist around the vibrating toy as it sends ripples through your muscles.

You shudder and bite your lip as it stops. You blink between the lines of the notebook and the columns of text in the textbook. You haven't got much done in the last hour.

"Got a lab review coming up." Your dad strides in behind you.

You nearly yelp. You swallow down the surprise and clench. You nod as you make yourself copy the words without truly understanding them.

"Mid-semester eval," your voice is thin. You wait for him to comment on it. He doesn't.

"Good you're studying." He says.

"Yeah, er..." your phone lights up and your eyes wander to the screen. It's Nick; 'how ya feeling, baby?' You resist the urge to hit the side button to hide it, not wanting to draw attention to it.

"In the way though." He leans on the table and squints at the textbook. "Shouldn't have your phone out for studying."

"Sorry, dad. I... I set a timer. That's all." You lie. "I'll move my stuff."

"Good." He taps the table and marches away.

You push your lips out in muted confusion. Why would you be in the way? You never eat dinner at the table. Not like a family. If anything, Austin and your dad will eat outside when they barbecue but you eat alone most days. If you remember to do so.

You close up the textbook and recoil. You grab the arms of the chair as the toy quakes again. That's a big one. He's torturing you. You didn't answer him!

You snatch up your phone and unlock it. Your hands shake and it takes several tries to type your response. 'Good. Studying.'

You hit send. His message isn't too far behind. 'You feeling me?'

Your eyes round. You stack your books and your laptop and balance your phone on top. You quickly retreat to your room as your core boils.

You snap your door shut and hurry to your bed. You put your stuff on the end and grab the cell. You answer him.

'Yes. I feel it.'

'Good girl.'

You don't know how to reply so you send a heart emoji. You wait but don't see those three dots. You grab your books and bring them to the desk. You'll hide in here. Your dad must have some plans. He never really warns you.

The doorbell chimes as if to confirm your suspicions. You sit and the toy surges inside you. You squeak and keel forward. You squeeze your thighs together and murmur senselessly as the pulse throbs inside you. You put your head to the desk and whine. It's just enough to put you on the edge, but not over.

Your father bellows from below, jerking you up from your rather literal internal struggle. You hiss and grip your skull. You're dizzy as the toy stops. You check your phone as you stand to meet your father's demand. It's hard to balance both.

Your legs are unstable as you force them to move. You pull open the door and stumble. Get yourself together. You take another big breath. At the top of the stairs, you find a semblance of normalcy. Your father's typical apathy will for once work in your favour.

You descend and slow as you get midway. You recognise the voice droning through the entryway. Sure enough, Nick is right there, chatting with your dad. You blink dumbly as his blue eyes meet yours over your father's shoulder. You gulp.

"There she is," Nick chirps. "Where's that other brat?"

"You're too nice, Fowler. How'd you ever get in at the Agency?" Your dad challenges.

"Only nice when I need to be." Nick chuckles and turns his attention back to your dad. "Figure I'd pay you back for the barbecue."

"Uh huh," your father's skeptical tone can't pierce his guest's sauve veneer. Your dad turns to you. "Nick brought dinner." He nods sideways to the console table. There's two large paper bags with handles; from TiTi's. "Set the table."

"Oh okay," you continue down to the bottom of the stairs and go to grab the bags.

"I got it," Nick scoops up the bags before you can. "Got lots so... bit heavy."

"I'm sure she can manage." Your dad sniffs.

"I know they don't give etiquette lessons down at the Agency, Chuck, but I know mine," Nick retorts. He gets a derisive snort from your father.

"I'll find the boy," your dad mutters.

You snake around the banister and head for the kitchen. Nick is like your shadow. The bags crinkle as you go to the cupboard. You pull the doors open and suddenly, your legs are jelly. You smother your mouth as you lean into the counter heavily. You turn to Nick as he rests one elbow on the island, right by the paper bags, and thumbs at his phone. The vibration is so intense it makes your teeth rattle.

"Look at you. Being a good girl." He hums.

You drop your hand. "Nick, I... what are you doing here?"

He presses his thumb down and you nearly collapse. You whimper. He chuckles.

"Asking me questions?" He tuts.

"N-no. I... I didn't expect--" he flicks his fingertip and the pulse mellows out but doesn't stop completely. "Can ya blame me, princess? I wanted to see you. Last night's got my head all fucked up over you."

You stare at him. You didn't expect him, worse you're not sure how to deal with him right now. Your father, schoolwork, the toy.

"I'm... sorry." You utter.

"Don't be sorry. Be a good girl," he winks. "Maybe you'll get a treat."

You shake your head in confusion. You force a smile and rock on your feet. "Okay, I'll...be good."

You turn to take down four plates. You focus on the task if only to keep from melting into the tile. The bags crinkle loudly.

"Should I take this out to the table?" He asks.

"Sure, er, please," you glance over your shoulder.

"Whatever you want, princess."

He lifts the bags and struts out. You stare after him. He's wearing a short-sleeved collar shirt; faint blue lines on white, and powder blue slacks. Everything about him is always cut to a tee. His ring matches his watch and the chain around his neck.

You nearly drop a fork. Stop. Just get through this. You eke out another tight breath. Isn't this awkward for him too?

You go out with the plates and cutlery. Nick unpacks the togo containers calmly, grinning at your appearance. You set down the stack and retreat.

Glasses, napkins... you put those out with the rest and make a third trip. You grab the jug of filtered water with lemon slices and return to the dining room. Your dad sits across from Nick as Austin yawns and pulls put a chair.

"Got a nice family, Chuck," Nick comments as he rests his hand on the back of the empty chair next to him. You hesitate. If you sit further down, it might draw more attention. You near and Nick stands. "I'll get it."

He pulls out the chair as you set down the water pitcher. You thank him, staring at the table as you do, and lower yourself onto the seat. You swallow down a yipe at the reminder of the humming fullness inside.

"Thanks for letting me intrude on it," Nick says.

"Your choice," your dad grabs the container of steaks and claims the biggest one. "Not very exciting."

"Nice to have someone. Figured you more the loner type," Nick rebuffs your father's indifference.

"I guess. What about you? Bit overdue to settle down?"

"Thought about it," Nick offers you some salad and you nod. Then he serves himself. You watch your dad. He is entirely disinterested what's going on. Austin is on his phone. "Who knows. Not too late."

"Get a wife, skip the kids," your dad scoffs.

Nick laughs, "right."

You stay silent. Your father's resent is well-known. You've always been keenly aware of it. It's embarrassing when he announces it in front of others.

Nick sits back and shifts. You peek over. His phone rests on his thigh as he drops his hand under the table and taps. You feel the jolt inside you.

You reach for the seasoned potatoes and cough. You nearly drop the container. You steady it and scoop out a serving.

You don't fill your plate. You know better. Your dad is an expert at finding something to hate you for. He'd as soon accuse you of being greedy.

You wait until everyone else is settled innbefore you touch your food. Austin isn't so patient or modest. His noisy chewing distracts you from the stirngent small talk between the men. That and the contant buzzing in your guts.

"Excuse me a moment. I need your restroom," Nick sets down his fork.

"Sure," your dad sits back.

Nick stands and swiftly skips his phone in his pocket. You feel the vibration speed up. You bite down on a moan. You squirm, unconfortable and wet, as he steps around your chair. The smell of his cologne suffocates you.

You cross your legs and immediately regret that. You sit flat again and struggle not to rock. The tempo slowly builds and builds only to relent and start again.

Theres another buzz. Not from inside. You take out your phone and bow your head. You open the message waiting and nearly squeal. You bat your lashes and hold your breath.

It's a picture of Nick. You recognize the backdrop of the bathroom. He has his shirt off, the gold chain just above his chest, muscles flexed, a devilish sparkle in his eyes. Not fair.

Your name darts over the table. You flinch as you look at your dad. "Phone."

He snaps his fingers at you. You pout and quickly lock the screen. You stare at him.

"It's rude to have it out at the table," he reprimands.

You grimace and look at Austin. Your dad wiggles his fingers expectantly as he holds out his hand. You sigh and hand it over, praying he doesn't find a way to unlock it.

"Sorry."

"When we have company, try not to be dumb." He growls.

You wince. Between his anger and the constant buzzing in your walls, you can barely keep from wilting away. You nod and pick up your fork again.

Nick returns with a sigh. He sits heavily behind you and rests his hand on the back of your chair. He makes it seem thoughtless but it's all that's on your mind.

"So, Chuck. I'm a nice guy, you know, but I did come here with a reason," Nick lays his other hand on his thigh casually. You just keep thinking about how thick his fingers are. His thigh too. "Got a favour. Sorta."

"Of course you do. I'm not new to the game." Your dad gives a wry look.

"Well, you know, I've been running myself ragged and Chuck, you been sitting on a desk..." he clucks and huffs. "You wanna go to Havana?"

"Havana?" Your dad chortles.

"Sure. You must miss the field work. I really don't wanna drag my ass out again. I'll bring ya another bottle of scotch," Nick barters.

His hand grips the back of your chair. You make yourself small and chew on a morsel of steak.

"Bottle of scotch?"

"Did I not mention? I bought a new boat. You can have it for a weekend... or a week. Hell, make it two." Nick counters.

"Something happen in Havana?" Your dad wonders.

Nick laughs, "nothing I should put on record. Come on, Chucky. You really wanna keep sitting in meetings wearing a noose around your neck."

Your dad clicks his tongue. He crosses his arms as he thinks. "Is it a nice boat?"

"Cozy. I'll throw in a pretty lady if you want."

Austin glance up and makes a face. You twitch.

Your dad guffaws. "Any woman hanging off of you, Fowler, I want nothing to do with."

"Fair enough but you're missing out. You could loosen up, ya know?"

Your father glowers, "you're lucky I like you."

"I'm easy to like," Nick's hand slides into his pocket. You brace yourself and the vibrations throb until you can barely sit still. You suspect there's more to this than just work.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

The fact that your writing stuff for Frankensteins creature after i just finished the book? A coincidence, i think not! Could i perhaps get some smut? There is none. I have scouted Tumblr and there is nothing. Adam needs love and gentle sex.

two smut fics in one day i am a beast. frankensteins monster x reader smut

warnings/tags- gentle sex, monster is referred to as adam, never proofread, p in v sex, love and virginity loss, set in old times obvi

word count-2488

You should have been afraid, but something in his demeanor—his hesitance, his loneliness—made you stay. As the days turned to weeks, your meetings became frequent. He was a soul abandoned by the world, yet you saw the flicker of something else within him. Intelligence. Longing. A desperate need to be understood.

And perhaps, something more.

He was careful around you, never drawing too close, his enormous hands always trembling slightly as if afraid to touch, to break, to be rejected. You found yourself drawn to him, to his words, to his quiet yearning for acceptance. No one had ever looked at him without fear before. No one had ever spoken to him without disdain.

One evening, as the fire crackled in your modest home, he sat at the edge of the hearth, his large frame barely fitting in the space. He had taken to staying longer, lingering at your door, as if dreading the moment he must return to the darkness outside.

"I do not deserve this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"And yet, here you are."

He lifted his gaze to yours, uncertainty and awe warring in his expression. Slowly, tentatively, you reached for his hand. His breath hitched as your fingers curled around his own, rough and scarred as they were. He had never been touched with gentleness before. You guided him closer, inviting him to stay as long as he wished.

And so he did.

You're a little too aware of your hand now, rubbing over his hip as you coax him closer. You're studying his face, eyes half-lidded looking into his eyes when his gaze trails from your eyes, to your lips, and back up. You can feel goosebumps rise on your skin when he breathes in, breathing you in, and you move in.

It's a little touch adam's lips are slightly chapped but ungodly soft and sweet on yours. It's a chaste kiss, to start, a few seconds of your lips on his. It's a tester, a taste for what's to come. adam says your name like something akin to a prayer when your foreheads touch, and his fingers are at the back of your neck. You smile on his skin, your lips meeting his cheek.

adam tilts his head to meet your lips. This time you move yours on his, slightly open mouthed and your hand moves from his hair to cup his cheeks. His head tilts up at the touch, and while your noses nudge, it spurs you on all the more. The monster moans softly when your teeth nip his lip and his mouth opens up so, so sweetly.

You're tentative with the tip of your tongue nudging his lips, and adam jerks back slightly. He eases again when he copies your movement, one of his arms winding around your back to pull you closer. Your tongues meet, a slow stroke, and with a small angle change it causes butterflies to wreak havoc within your abdomen. “adam.” You whisper, shuddering. adam nods, eyes fluttering open and shut again as he chases your lips with a broken groan.

You push weakly at his shoulders, you don't really want to stop but Jesus you still need to talk, or maybe just go to bed with him. “My answer is yes, to last night. To everything, and I swear to god – I'm going to make it right this time. I won't be her, adam, you deserve the world.”

You find yourself in your room again, feeling a little sick but adam is completely unfazed at the unexpected travel when he catches your stumble. You pull yourself together, blinking over at him. “Bed, adam. On my bed, please.”

adam lets go of you, albeit hesitantly, and backs up until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he is seated on the edge of it. He's looking up to you, waiting for what you want to happen, blinking away glassy and unfocused eyes. His lips are pink, a little puffier from the kisses and you want to ruin him. You stand with your knees touching his, and adam is holding the back of your thighs and pulling you onto his lap.

“Whoa, slow down,” You giggle, shuffling you knees on either side of adam’ hips so you don't fall flat off the bed, and in response adam is just digging his hands into your waist where he can hold you – where he can reach, and grip, and feel.

He smiles at you,crooked fangs poking from his lips and he pushes his face into your collar. He inhales deeply, fingers pushing into your flesh and he might just leave bruises if he holds on any tighter. “Kiss…again.” And you do. By god you do.

It's all slow, with tongue and teeth. You feel the rise and fall of his chest as he heaves below you, and you can feel just what you do to him under the fat of your ass. He's rocking up now and again, as you explore the back of his teeth and the underside of his tongue with the tip of yours - with laps and kisses. The noise he makes is pathetic, a loud staggering keen and you eat it up like it's fucking breakfast.

You push your hand through his hair and grip a clump of it in your hand and he shivers, straining against his slacks with fervour. He bucks up with a throw back of his head and adam gasps. “Oh..p-please.”

“You don't need to beg, adam.” You coo, and your head spins with everything because you're about to do this with him. You can feel what he does to you the same way you know exactly what you do to him, with heat pooling between your thighs and you feel sticky.

You move off of his lap to unbutton his trousers, and his hands fly down to help. Once they're at his ankles, they get flicked off and into a heap on the floor. You both move further up the bed, and he's laying back with his head on the pillow to strip the rest of his clothes off. He lays bare, his cock twitching against his lower belly, and clothes strewn around his pants.

He's thick, girthy and average length - if not just slightly longer. It curves to adam' left and it's near red at the tip. You can see the sheen of it, and he looks over at you. He can't decide if he should comment on your clothes or ‘Please touch me.’

“Can I please take your clothes off?” adam asks instead, blinking up at you and when you nod yes, he pulls your shorts and panties down to your knees that you're sitting on and sits up to help you wrestle your t-shirt off your body. You manoeuvre awkwardly to get the shorts and sticky underwear off your legs and you end up falling into adam’ shoulder.

You laugh, and he holds you up, smiling. He kisses you, and you kiss back. It doesn't last long, because he throws his head back into the pillows when you wrap a hand around the base of his cock. It twitches and drools, already sensitive. “Have you… have you not done anything since April?”

“No. Should I have? It did not feel right alone.” adam manages to spit out shakily, hips straining to stay still on the bed.

He's fought worse than this, and a few touches makes him lose it? God above, he feels pathetic.

“You don't need to do anything, adam. You're just pretty, uh...” You raise your hand up and gather precum from his tip, and when your hand is adequately wet you twist your hand under adam's tip and he whimpers, hips chasing your hand. “Pent up.”

adam just makes a pleading noise, trying to desperately chase the friction while he gasps, and you just watch as his cock drips and twitches, the way it jerks at every upstroke. You speed up your hand, and when his moans get higher pitched you slow right down.

adam glares at you, trying to catch his breath. “I felt it. I was close to climaxing. Why did you stop?” He complains, his thighs trembling as your index finger draws circles on it. You lean down and kiss his leg, and move so you're in between them.

“I'm redoing your first time, I thought I'd do it right. Give you something you can't forget.” You muse, voice lilted into a happy little hum. You start at his calves, kissing up to his thighs. You gaze up at him, eyes half-lidded and all you can feel is the utmost want for him, “Gorgeous, adam.” You praise, voice dazed.

You suck on the skin at the side of his knee and graze your teeth over the sensitive spot, marking along his thighs when your head trails up his physique. You run a hand through the coarse hair on his abdomen, and press your face into his stomach.

“Please, I need to be–” adam sighs heavily, his jaw tensing as he tilts his head back again, your thumb playing half-heartedly with his nipple. “Inside. Please.” He groans, trying to pull you up. You go willingly, scooting your body up the bed and swinging your thigh over the side of him again, settling bare in his lap.

adam sits up, holds your hips steady as he leans in for another kiss, and each one is intoxicating. If you could taste sunlight, he would be it. The sweetest dose of serotonin. “You taste so good.” He grumbles against your lips, this time being the one to lick into your mouth and thoroughly take his time learning each crevice. You grind your own hips down, and his dick spears through your soaked folds.

adam shivers at the wetness, and you both make needy noises into each other when his head nudges your clit. It catches right at the bottom of the hood, and adam helps you move your hips. He pulls you forward and guides your hips back, both of you pressing your heads together and breathing into eachothers mouths.

“Yes, shit–” You moan, gripping adam's hair in a fist and he buries his face into the crook of your shoulder. He mouths at it, before you feel the suction of his puffy lips marking up your neck. “You're doing so good, adam.”

adam humps up hard at your words, jabbing his hips up against your body messily and you reach down. “C'mon, you wanted inside. You can.” And he's already down, slipping his hand between you both to prod clumsily at your cunt. You hiss when he's a little too rough, but you take his hand and guide him.

“Gentle, yes, just like that.” And adam groans when two of his fingers curl up safe within your twitchy walls. He makes a choked noise, head spinning as he feels you pulse around his fingers.

“You're so tight. It's warm, so warm.” adam mumbles helpfully, almost transfixed but he rubs circles directly onto your clit with his thumb. They're slow, with slightly harder pressure and with your wetness his fingers pass right through. “I need you, you're so perfect” He praises, but you push his hand away, and replace it with your own to reach for his cock.

“I'm ready, adam, are you? You can back out now.” You promise, kissing his cheeks invitingly, peppering his face in affection. He nods, and lets you guide his tip to your pussy. It stretches slightly, but you press your hips down inch by inch. adam bites down on his lip, eyes near rolling back as he feels the way your body accommodates him. His hands twitch on your hips.

“Oh my. Oh lord.” adam sobs out your name, his hips jerking up as you sink down, and his hands just push. You inhale sharply when your hips meet his directly, skin on skin, and adam shakes harshly. ��Ah, ah–” Your monster whimpers, and you grind your hips from where you're sitting. adam rubs his hands up and down your sides, comforting you while you're grinding down on him.

“Thank you.” He moans, blinking up at you with absolutely destroyed eyes – and he curls up towards you, rocking your body along his.

“adam,” You sob as he cups one of your tits, hot and heavy in his hand, and he buries his face against the other one. He mouths at your nipple, swirling his tongue around it wetly and sucking it into his mouth.

“You're so fucking good for me, so so good.” You choke as your hips move. He moves his own up with you, planting his feet down and moving to meet you right in the middle. He holds your tit in one hand and toys with your clit with his others. By no means is it perfect, but the friction is enough to punch little noises out of you each thrust. adam has reverted to animalistic noises, whines and whimpers and borderline growls as he chases his own pleasure and tries to bring you with him.

You're clenching around him, getting tighter and he can feel his own stomach tightening. He chants your name, a mix between devolved curses and ‘oh, oh, oh's while his balls tighten. He pulls you almost completely off of him, and brings you straight back down. adam repeats that motion, over and over. You can feel your body go hazy, something white hot building in your tummy while he abuses your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, ohmygod,” You wail, “M'gonna, m'so—” adam bites down on your shoulder, nodding, and it only takes another second until you're squeezing so tight around him - milking the creature dry for all he's worth and adam hits your top wall as he shoves himself in as far as he possibly can to spill inside. Hot, white and sticky flooding every crevice of your cunt.

You fall forward on adam, breathing heavily in and out while he pants, wrapping his arms around the base of your back and pushing his face into your hair. He kisses the top of your head, rocking up into you a last few times to just make sure you're satisfied

“God, adam.” You gasp for air, yawning. Your thighs are shaking back and forth, tired with strain. He just smiles at you, tilting his head so he can kiss you again.

“That was okay?” He asks. “Did I do good?” He follows up with his soft cock slipping from you and he doesn't even complain when his cum spills out onto him.

“So good, adam.” You return his smile, close mouthed and satisfied. You check in, rubbing his chest. You circle your palm over the top of it, sighing happily. And in the quiet of that winter night, the creature abandoned by his creator finally felt, if only for a moment, like he belonged.

[hexcii]

Hi hi hello!! I’m Hexcii!! :DD

Probably a placeholder image for now since idk what to put here but it looked empty without it—

FAQ

✮ YIPPIE!!! ✮

I’m a disabled artist and writer who’s currently fixated on the DCA! Most of my work here is of them (my wives) <33 I’m a self shipper so I’ll mostly be drawing the dca and my sona, but I do draw Y/Ns sometimes too. I usually post right when I finish something, so it’s a little all over the place

My blog is SFW some of my art and writing has suggestive or horror themes. I will tag these whenever necessary for those who want to avoid certain topics.

✮ My writing ✮

My AO3 with all my of written works, currently only two but more is hopefully coming in the future ^^

The Name Game masterpost

Faulty by Design masterpost

✮ My tags ✮

My art is where you’ll find all of my art!! (Shocker)

Hexcii says stuff is my text post tag

Ask is for when I answer all your guys’ questions and things

Mer au is for the fish, blub blub blub

Meteor shower is my dca self ship tag!!

DCA fandom is where you’ll find all my work relating to the DCA in any way

✮ Other stuff ✮

A reference for my sona (mostly for my own benefit hehehee)

My toyhouse!! I mostly use this as an art archive for both my dca and oc stuff <33 it also holds some extra information about my work :33

My instagram where I’m a bit more personal. I don’t post but I do spam my story if that’s anything lmao

[artsarasp]

Hi! I saw you answering asks for the system possession au, and I have a very stupid question. Did the system possess SQQ after he looked into that curse revealing mirror and everyone could see the system window in his eyes?

I had figured that they are separate, because you often do fanart for fanfics, but you said the peak lords aren't pushing SQH because their insistance caused this, sooo. I just need to have it spelled out for me. I did not connect the dots

aaa! it's not your fault for not connecting, I didn't explain stuff properly!

Yes, the whole system possession thing started after I made those comics for the og post! I was chatting with my friend and we went "ok what if after this the peak lords tried another intervention and the system possessed sqq?" and then I just started drawing without a plan and now here we are! I'll go tag those first pages as system possession too actually or make a masterpost.

in short, peak lords saw the system in sqq's eyes, tried to intervene twice, and on the second time the system took over to "fix" the plot and has been making everyone's lives miserable.

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Shattered

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 3)

A Levi x reader fanfic (Flufftober 2024)

Crossposted from AO3

You being a clutz and scaring the shit out of Levi.

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 1.1k)

(Part one) / (Part two) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

"Follow me," Levi demanded. He had suddenly appeared in front of you.

"That depends," you said. "Will there be tea?"

"Of course," he scoffed. "What do you take me for?"

Next thing you knew, you were in his office, sitting across from him at his desk which was laden with cups of steaming tea and tiny plates filled with biscuits.

"Wow, you went all out. What's the occasion?" you asked excitedly and snatched one of the biscuits off the plate closest to him.

"I need to talk to you."

"Then shoot," you said, warming your hands on the cup in front of you. It smelled heavenly.

"First of all, I need to apologize to you."

You looked up in astonishment. Levi, apologizing? This was unheard of.

"I gave it some thought, and I realized I was wrong. If it's about tea, the end justifies the means. So I shouldn't have made such a fuss about the drawings."

"Soo you're saying it's okay for me to keep on selling them as long as it's about raising money for tea-related stuff? Do you really mean that?" you asked warily, searching his face for any signs of sarcasm, but finding none.

"Yes," he said, nodding solemnly.

"Yay! I knew a reasonable man such as yourself would come to your senses eventually!" you exclaimed happily. "This is going to make everything so much easier."

You took a sip of your tea, and your eyes widened. It was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

"This is absolutely delicious! Divine! Out of this world! Where did you get this?"

"South Maria."

A strange feeling crept up inside of you at his words, but you couldn't quite place it.

"Right, they do grow the best tea in the world." It made sense. Didn't it?

"Take me with you next time? Please?" you asked him, putting on your best pleading eyes and pouty lips. Levi didn't answer, his eyes on the desk in front of him.

"There is something I need to tell you."

A faint ringing pierced through the silence.

"You hear that?" you asked.

"Hear what, exactly?" he replied, eyes narrowed.

The sound grew steadily louder, filling you with dread.

"Oh no," you whispered in terror as you recognized it. "Don't do this to me. Just a little bit longer, please…"

But the noise knew no mercy, ripping you from your dream with cruel inevitability. You groaned. It had been too good to be true, after all.

"Ugh. Shut up," you mumbled and dangled out a sleepy hand from the edge of the bed.

Patting down the surface of your nightstand to try and turn off the alarm, you knocked several things to the floor, until there was a sudden crashing noise. You instantly jolted awake, knowing exactly what had happened.

"Noo!" you howled as you stared at the remains of your once fancy teapot in horror.

"What have I done?" you sobbed as you crouched down next to your bed, cradling the pieces in your arms and of course cutting yourself in the process.

"I should've never put you there. I'm so sorry…"

You stumbled out of your room like this, still in your jammies.

"I will get you the help you need. He'll know what to do," you whispered to the shards as you made your way through the halls and up the stairs, paying no heed to any startled scouts you passed.

His office door came into view, but you didn't stop, kicking it open without hesitation.

"I told you a thousand times to knock before y–" His angry words died in this throat when he saw you standing before him, crying, your shirt and hands all covered in blood.

"Help me," you said in a forlorn voice.

Levi was by your side in an instant.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" he demanded, trying to get a better look at your wounds.

"Careful, you're hurting it," you said in a warning tone, pulling your hands away.

"It?" he asked, confused.

"My teapot. One of my favorites," you said. They were all your favorites. It didn’t matter now. "I accidentally broke it. You have to help me." You looked at him with big, pitiful eyes.

"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me," Levi said through his teeth, knowing full well that you were dead serious.

"Put it down on the table over there. I’ll take a look at it later."

"But–" you tried to protest.

"No buts. You’re bleeding, do you even know that?"

You looked down at your hands.

"Oh," you said. Of course you hadn't realized.

"Tch. You are such an airhead," Levi said, but there was no edge to it. He watched as you carefully placed the shards on the table.

"Come here," he said, dressing materials already in hand.

You padded over to him with small, rueful steps.

"Sit down." He gestured to the chair by his desk. "Give me your hands."

You obediently stretched them out towards him. He disinfected them, making you wince in pain.

"Should have been more careful. Idiot," he murmured, his voice soft.

"I know," you said miserably and looked up at him with eyes still puffy from the tears, your hair a sleepy mess on your head.

"Do you think it will be alright?"

He sighed in exasperation.

"I'll see what I can do. It won't be the same again, though."

"I know," you said, sniffling, as Levi began to wrap bandages around the cuts on your hands and arms. "Thank you."

His hands were warm on your skin, practiced fingers holding your hand softly in place, adjusting it this way or that way to get the perfect angle for the dressing. The light touch made you shiver, a pleasantly tingling sensation which ran from your head down your spine all the way to your toes. You relaxed into it, fighting to keep your eyes open as you felt yourself getting sleepy again.

When his hands were suddenly gone, you almost whined in protest.

"There, all done," he said. "Now get out. I have work to do."

You squinted up at him as he leaned against his desk with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face, his fingers tapping his arm in an irritated manner.

"Fine," you grumbled, reluctantly getting up from your comfortable seat. As you plodded to the door, you couldn't help but let out a big yawn. "Definitely a two pot type of morning…" you mumbled, then you were gone.

Levi sighed, already knowing his day would be wasted. He would be sitting here all day, cursing to himself, gluing the damn thing back together. All to see you smile again.

Soo this was the third part of The Tea Lovers Series! It was a bit on the shorter side but I hope you enjoyed it :) More will be coming soon!

Click here for Part 4

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou

[skzstoryvault]

A Cloud with Legs

Starring: Hyunjin Summary:  One day when you were five, you met a boy who was drawing alone in the sand. Twenty years later, he decided all his drawings are for you. Warnings: sappy, sappy stuff. Tags: gender neutral reader, childhood best friends to lovers, teary reunion. clumsiness.

Note: A day will come when the courage of men fails - wait, no, hold up, Aragorn. I mean, a day will come when I can crank out my smutty stories again, but right now I am in my romantic phase and I fully blame one Hyunjin for it. I might write a couple more stories on the same topic, simply because it feels so good to imagine being close to Hyunjin as a friend, so close that it feels safe to move on to another kind of closer. Rating: 16+

Divider from: emojicombos.com/divider

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

You met him in a garden, one of those early spring afternoons that smelled like possibility.

He was five. So were you.

It was someone else’s birthday party, full of sugar-smeared faces and loud music, but he’d wandered off, quiet and distant, to a patch of sun-dappled grass beneath a blooming camellia. He wasn’t playing. Just dragging a stick through the dirt, drawing something — a dragon, he said.

You sat beside him, knees knocking.

“It looks like a cloud with legs,” you told him honestly.

He’d blinked at you, then laughed — a startled, delighted sound that filled your whole chest. You didn’t know then what it meant, but something had clicked into place. You became his person. And he became yours.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

For years, you were the only one who knew how deeply he felt things. Not just sadness, but beauty. In shadows and stray cats. In dance. In art. In everything.

Other kids found him too intense. Too emotional. Too weird, sometimes. But not you. You made space for the parts of him that didn’t fit elsewhere. He gave you his trust in pieces—quiet conversations, shared snacks, doodles with your names entwined in the margins. You gave him your entire heart before you even knew what that meant.

By the time he was scouted, you were already part of his bones.

He almost didn’t audition. He told you he was scared. Of being seen too much. Of being loved for the wrong things.

But you said, “If they see even a part of you, they'll be lucky.”

So he went.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

And then it started.

You watched him disappear into the machine — the long nights, the aching limbs, the masks they made him wear.

You watched him debut.

Suddenly, Hyunjin belonged to everyone.

You watched fans fall in love with his face, his voice, the way he moved like silk and lightning. The world wanted him. Needed him. But as he got brighter, you saw something dim in his eyes.

He stopped texting back right away. Not out of neglect, but exhaustion. Or confusion.

He’d call you late, after schedules. You’d ask how he was.

“I’m okay,” he’d always say, too fast.

But then there were nights he didn’t hang up. He’d just breathe into the phone while you listened to the silence between his thoughts.

“I don’t know who I’m supposed to be,” he whispered once.

“You’re Hyunjin,” you’d answered. “And that’s enough.”

But still, you felt him slipping. Like a painting you couldn’t touch anymore.

And then—you left. School. Abroad. A chance you couldn’t say no to. He didn’t stop you. He didn’t cry. He just hugged you too tight and said, “Write to me.”

You did. At first. Then life happened. Weeks turned into months.

And without you, he hardened.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

He learned how to pose just right. How to smile when he felt hollow. How to nod through interviews and brush off invasive questions with laughter that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He had his members. They loved him — deeply, truly. But even they didn’t get to see the boy under the glamour. The one who cried at things he remembered. The one who danced not for applause, but because it was the only thing that ever made him feel real.

He told himself he was fine. Until the nights when he wasn't.

There were times he’d stare at the city skyline from his dorm room, lips parted like he might speak your name just to hear it in the dark. But he never did.

Instead, he painted you. In sketches. In dreams. Always just out of reach.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

And now — years later — you're back.

You’re older. Wiser, maybe. Looking more put together in cashmere turtlenecks and two piece suits. But still yourself. Still his in some impossible way.

You don’t plan on seeing him. It doesn’t seem fair. You’re not sure if he even thinks of you anymore.

But Seoul is small when fate has an agenda.

It happens on a gray afternoon in Hongdae. You’re tucked under a shop’s awning as a soft drizzle falls. Your umbrella broke. You're shivering. Late. Lost in thought.

And then— "…No."

The voice is hoarse. Familiar. A bit nasal. Your name, spoken like a prayer and a curse all at once.

You look up.

He’s standing there, across the narrow street, soaked and breathless. His hoodie clings to his frame. His lips are parted like he can’t believe you’re real.

And then he’s moving.

He doesn’t stop to speak. He just pulls you into his arms so fast, you barely catch your breath. His grip is desperate, full-body, crushing. You feel him tremble.

His face burrows into your neck. You hear it before you feel it — a broken sound, something like a sob strangled in his throat.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper, stunned, arms rising to hold him. He winces and snuffles into your shoulder. “So cruel! You hate me now?” “Sorry, sorry Jinnie. I thought… I’m no longer allowed that close.” You say, doubt in your voice.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go. He shakes his head like he’s trying to wake up and pulls you in even close, like he’s trying to hide you in his chest.

“I thought I was okay,” he says, voice muffled against your skin. “I thought I didn’t need you anymore. But I was wrong. I’ve been living without my heart.”

He pulls back, just enough to look at you. His eyes — still so full of light, even through tears — search your face like he's afraid you’ll vanish.

“I didn’t know how much I missed you until I saw you again. And now—now I can’t pretend anymore.”

Your breath hitches. You can’t find words.

“I know it’s crazy,” he says, voice shaking. “I’m... public now. Messy. I don’t even know what I’d ask of you. But I—God, I love you. I have. Since we were five.”

His chest rises and falls like he’s just leapt off a ledge.

“I don’t know if you love me back. Or if it’s worth it. But I had to tell you. Because not saying it hurts more than anything else ever could.”

You step closer. Your hand lifts to cup his jaw, damp with rain and tears. His eyes flutter shut under your touch.

“I never stopped,” you whisper.

His eyes open. And you’re close. So close your breath mingles.

Then — as if the years never happened — he kisses you.

Not carefully. Not politely.

But like a dam breaking.

Like finding home again.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

Later, in the quiet of his apartment, you lie tangled on his couch, limbs entwined. He brushes your hair back, kisses your collarbone like he’s writing his name there.

You ask if he’s afraid.

“Terrified,” he says, lips brushing your shoulder. “But if I lose you again, I won’t survive it.”

You look at him — really look.

And you say, “Then don’t.”

And he doesn’t.

Not ever again.

You don’t mean to stay the night.

You’re still in your rain-damp clothes. Still shaking from the kiss outside. Still unsure if this is real or some memory your heart conjured just to survive.

But Hyunjin won’t let go of your hand.

Not even when you step inside his apartment and instinctively move to take your shoes off. His fingers are still laced with yours like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks. He’s quieter now, the intensity of the street moment replaced by a soft, trembling kind of presence.

He sits on the couch beside you. Legs drawn up. Hair drying in wild waves around his face.

You expect him to say something poetic, something grand.

But instead, he whispers, “Can I—can I just… sit here with you?”

So you do.

You sit there, side by side in the quiet, your thighs touching. And you breathe. For the first time in a long time, it feels like enough.

Then, somewhere between midnight and dawn, the dam breaks.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

“I didn’t know how to be happy,” he says, voice rough from use and silence. “When you were gone, I mean.”

He turns his head, looks at you sideways. “They say I’m successful. That I’ve made it. And sometimes I believe them. But… most days, I feel like I’m performing even when I’m alone.”

You swallow hard. Your thumb traces the line of his knuckle. “You always gave too much of yourself away.”

“I didn’t know how else to survive it,” he admits.

You talk for hours like that — not rushing, not hiding. It’s like unwrapping wounds you both forgot you had. A slow, quiet unveiling of years spent misunderstood.

He tells you about crying in dressing rooms. About smiling through panic attacks. About pretending every fan’s love was enough to fill the hollow your absence left behind.

You tell him how empty the world felt without him in it. How no one else saw you, not really. How you’d stare at his pictures online and feel both proud and sick with longing, because the boy you knew was there, but caged. How, other times, you’d despair and tell yourself the Hyunjin you knew was gone, crushed in the fame machine.

At some point, he curls into you — his cheek pressed to your thigh as you sit cross-legged — and just breathes. His arms wrap around your waist like you’re the gravity that finally brought him back to earth.

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” he murmurs.

“You’re not.”

“But what if I mess this up?” he says, voice cracking. “What if I… damage you?”

You touch his hair, thread your fingers through the golden-brown strands still damp from earlier rain. “Then we figure it out. Slowly. Together.”

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

By the time the sun starts to rise, neither of you have slept.

You’re both lying on the floor now, a blanket beneath you, limbs half-tangled, cheeks flushed from shared laughter and too many confessions.

He’s on his side, facing you, blinking slowly as the first light spills through the window.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he says, like it hurts. “Too beautiful, it messes with my mind.” 

You laugh softly. “You’re one to talk. And still so, so dramatic.”

He hides his face in your arm with a groan. “You’re mean.”

“And you love it.”

“I do,” he admits, muffled. “God, I do.”

He lifts his head slowly. The light catches his face—his eyes swollen from emotion, lips chapped, hair a wild halo.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits, voice trembling. “I want to kiss you. I want to touch you. But I’m scared if I do it wrong, it’ll feel off and drive you away from me forever. And this... this is right. This is you.”

You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, so gently it feels like a promise.

“You can’t do it wrong,” you whisper. “We have forever to get it right.”

That makes something in him break in the best way. His eyes fill again — soft, helpless tears — and he kisses you with the weight of all the years he couldn’t. His lips caress yours before his tears can stain your cheeks. It’s messy. A little awkward. Teeth bump. His hand fumbles at your jaw before settling, warm and trembling.

But it's perfect.

It’s real.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓  

You don’t rush.

You guide him gently. “Here,” you say, moving his hand. “Slower.” And he listens like he’s learning a sacred language.

There’s laughter, breathless and shy, when his hoodie gets stuck over his head and you help him tug it off, both of you grinning like kids again.

There’s reverence when he touches your bare skin for the first time, his fingers hesitant, his voice breaking: “You’re so soft. I—Is this okay?”

You nod. You kiss his knuckles. You tell him, “Everything about you is okay.”

He worships you with his whole body. Not out of lust alone — but devotion. The kind of love that’s patient. That doesn’t need to rush to the finish. The kind that just wants to be here. With you. Inside of the moment you’ve both waited a lifetime for.

And when you finally fit together, slow and clumsy, he breathes out your name like a prayer.

You don’t hide. There’s no darkness to tuck yourselves into.

The sun is up now — warm and golden, filling the apartment.

You make love in full daylight, everything visible, nothing veiled.

And afterward, your legs tangled together, your breaths syncing like waves, he strokes your spine with lazy fingers.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs.

“You do,” you say simply. “You always have.”

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓  

You fall asleep like that — in the light, in each other’s arms, no lies left between you.

And when you wake, sometime mid-morning, Hyunjin is watching you with the softest smile.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Stay. Please.”

You press your forehead to his.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And you mean it.

Because this time, you’re home. And so is he.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓  

You notice it that morning — the shift.

Hyunjin has always moved with purpose, even in rest. But today, he’s fidgeting.

He’s dressed simply — soft oversized sweater, silver rings on his long fingers, hair pushed behind his ears. But he keeps adjusting things. Tugging at the hem of his sleeves. Bouncing his knee.

You’re sitting at his kitchen counter, sipping tea he made for you. His apartment still smells faintly like you. Like you two. The night still hums in the space between your bodies.

“Hyune,” you ask gently. “What is it?”

He stops pacing.

Then sighs. Runs both hands through his hair, eyes wide like a cornered cat.

“I want them to meet you.”

Your heart skips.

“Your members?” you ask, though you already know.

He nods. “They’re my family. And I—I want you to be part of that too.”

You stand, walk over. Place your hand over his chest. His heart is pounding.

“Then let’s go.”

He blinks. “Just like that?”

“You love me. I love you. They love you. I’m not scared.”

“But I am,” he says quietly. “Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and if they don’t like you, or they think we’re moving too fast, or—”

“Hyunjin,” you interrupt, cupping his jaw, “if they don’t like me, that’s their loss. But I know they will. Because I love you like they love you. And I know how much they mean to you. I’m not here to compete. I’m here to add.”

That silences him. Something in his throat moves. He swallows hard. And then he kisses you — brief, tender, forehead pressed to yours.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓  

The dorm is warm and loud even before you knock.

You hear voices — laughter, something clattering in the kitchen. And then the door swings open.

Lee Know stands there, a wooden spoon in hand. His eyebrow arches when he sees you.

You half expect a challenge.

But his mouth softens. “Oh,” he says. “So this is the one.”

You don’t have time to wonder what that means — because Hyunjin is already dragging you inside, fingers clenched tightly in yours like a lifeline.

“Guys,” he calls out, voice a little higher than usual. “Uh. Can I…? I need to introduce someone.”

They all come out.

Bang Chan, kind-eyed and already smiling. Han, who does a double take before grinning like he’s won a bet. Felix, who claps his hands and bounces on his toes. Seungmin, who squints at you like he’s assessing a museum piece. Changbin, who gives Hyunjin a look that’s 80% teasing and 20% something softer. And I.N, who just gasps and goes, “FINALLY. Well done, hyung.”

It’s overwhelming, but not in a bad way. Like walking into a room full of older brothers you didn’t know you had.

Hyunjin is visibly vibrating.

“I—this is…” he stammers. “They are mine.” Then winces. “I mean—my person. My—We’re a thing. We are the  thing. From before. Since forever. I—”

You touch his back.

He exhales, steadies himself.

“I love them,” he finishes, quietly. “They’re the best part of my life. And I want them in this part, too.”

There’s a pause.

Then Bang Chan steps forward first. He holds out his hand, but there’s warmth in his eyes — deep, paternal.

“Welcome,” he says. “If Hyunjin trusts you, we trust you.”

Felix hugs you next, without asking. “He never shuts up about you. You were always a myth to us.”

Changbin laughs. “He once cried at dinner talking about how you made him soup when he had the flu in middle school. So yeah. We’ve all kinda been rooting for this.”

You laugh with them — but when you look at Hyunjin, he’s quiet again. Watching you, shoulders hunched, waiting.

You walk back to him. You take both his hands.

And in front of them all, you kiss his cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His whole body softens. He turns his face into your palm and exhales. His friends see it too — the way you settle him, anchor him. Something unspoken passes between the members, a shared understanding.

Love like this? It's rare.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓  

Later, as everyone eats together and stories fly around the room, Hyunjin sits beside you, one hand always on you — your back, your knee, your hand under the table.

He leans in, lips brushing your temple.

“They like you,” he whispers.

“I like them.”

He smiles, eyes shining. “I feel… full. For the first time in years. Like all my worlds finally live in the same place.”

You kiss his jaw. “You’ve always deserved that.”

And in a room full of warmth, food, and found family, Hyunjin rests his head on your shoulder and breathes you in.

For once, nothing is missing.

He has his family.

He has his heart.

And he has you.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

It's after the dorm visit, after a quiet dinner back at his apartment where you both kept smiling for no reason other than this is real now. He’s different tonight — less fidgety, more solemn. Like something's been building in his chest, and he's finally ready to let it rise.

He disappears for a minute while you’re curled up on his couch, blanket around your legs, fingers cradling a warm mug. When he returns, he’s carrying a heavy leather sketchbook, and something even more fragile in his eyes.

“I’ve never shown anyone this,” he says, sitting beside you, holding it on his lap like it’s made of glass. “Not even the guys.”

Your heart slows with gravity. You reach out and rest your hand over his.

“I want to see.”

He opens it.

The first page is a pencil sketch of a figure in a garden. You know that moment — it's the birthday party where you met, five years old and barefoot, his curls wild and your cheeks sticky with icing.

“I don’t remember all the details,” he murmurs. “But I remember you smiled at me like I wasn’t too much.”

Page after page, he takes you through your own mythology — drawn from memory and longing. You see yourself at ten, at sixteen, laughing at something off-page. You see your own hands holding sunflowers, your eyes watching the sky. There are entire pages of nothing but your silhouette from behind — sitting, walking, waiting.

Each one aches with missing.

“I used to draw you when I was overseas, when I couldn’t sleep,” he says. “It was the only thing that made me feel like I hadn’t lost you completely.”

He flips to a page halfway through the book. It’s a messier drawing — charcoal and ink — a city street at night. He gestures at it.

“This,” he says, “was the night I wrote ‘So Good’.”

You blink.

“The viral hit song?”

He nods. “It was a bad week. Schedules were endless, I was exhausted, and... it hit me that if I bumped into you on the street, I might not even recognize you. That maybe you’d moved on, forgotten me. But I couldn’t bear the weight of that thought, so I tried to flip it. I imagined meeting you again. Just—randomly. No pain. Just... joy.”

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes far away.

“I pictured grabbing your hand, dragging you all over town. Dessert cafés, weird fusion restaurants, trashy convenience store ramen. Trying everything. Laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to write that feeling. To pretend, even for three minutes, that life could be so good again.”

You feel tears build, thick and warm.

“And,” he adds, voice cracking, “I wanted Stay to feel it too. Even if I couldn’t have you, I wanted them to have happiness. I wanted someone, somewhere, to believe life could still surprise them with something sweet.”

You wipe your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Hyunjin... you gave all your joy away.”

He looks down, ashamed. “It was the only thing I had left.”

You set your mug aside and take the sketchbook from his lap. Set it gently on the table. Then you reach for him, both hands on either side of his face.

“You don’t have to give it away anymore. I’m here now. I want to build joy with you.”

He lets out a breath that sounds like surrender. Then buries his face against your neck, arms tight around your waist.

“I was so scared,” he whispers. “That I was too late. That I’d made art out of a ghost.”

You hold him. Rock him slightly, like you’re grounding him back into his body.

“I’m not a ghost,” you say. “I never left you. I was always carrying you too. In little memories. In songs I couldn’t listen to. In cities that didn’t have your laugh in them.”

He lifts his head. There’s something undone in his face, something new — not longing, but belonging.

“I wrote you into everything,” he says. “And now I want to write you into this. Into my present. Into my future.”

You lean in and kiss him — soft, slow, no ache this time.

And when you pull back, you say, “Then start now.”

He grabs a pencil from the floor, rips a fresh page from the back of the sketchbook, and without looking down, begins to sketch.

You laugh. “What are you doing?”

He grins.

“Drawing the first moment I ever believed I could be happy again.”

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓  

You wake up tangled in the morning, in sheets that smell like warmth and cinnamon, to the softest version of Hyunjin — hoodie half-zipped, sleep lines on his cheek, hair a lazy waterfall of silk down his back. He’s standing by the window, phone in hand, humming to himself.

You rub your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late enough to be free,” he grins, and walks over, climbs into bed like it’s gravity pulling him back to you. “I cleared the day. No rehearsals. No shoots. Just us.”

“Us,” you repeat, sleep-drunk and smiling. “And what do we do with us?”

His eyes sparkle.

“We do the trip.”

You blink. “The—what?”

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓  ̟

The day starts with pastries from a tiny café in Seongsu — one with a lavender door and desserts that look like miniature art pieces. You each order something too sweet and unpronounceable and sit on the sidewalk curb like teenagers, knees bumping as powdered sugar drips onto your fingers.

Hyunjin feeds you a bite of his pastry, and you laugh so hard when the cream smears on your nose that you nearly choke. He kisses it off without a word, then giggles into your mouth like he can’t believe he’s allowed to do that now.

Next stop: coffee. But not just any coffee. Ridiculous, experimental ones — rose petal lattes, tiramisu espressos, iced black with lemon and glitter dust. You both pretend to be connoisseurs, rating them like wine.

“This one tastes like heartbreak at a perfume counter,” you say, after a sip.

“This one is what regret would drink if it was glamorous,” Hyunjin declares, swishing it like a sommelier.

You make each other laugh so hard, the barista gives you two extra biscotti on the house and mutters, “Just for being cute.”

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

As the sun starts to lower, you wander into a side street and find a tiny food cart with steaming tteokbokki. The ajumma running it recognizes Hyunjin almost instantly — eyes widening, hand flying to her mouth — but then she spots you beside him, and something in her expression shifts.

She says nothing, only gives him the biggest serving.

He thanks her with a low bow, then turns to you, holding out chopsticks like a prize. “The final boss,” he says solemnly. “Spicy, messy, no napkins.”

You grin. “You’re on.”

You eat standing, laughing between bites, sauce on your lips, your fingers red and sticky, his hoodie cuff somehow stained. And still — he’s never looked happier.

People pass by. Some double-take. A few recognize him. One girl whispers, “Hyunjin?” in awe. He gives a polite nod, but his eyes are only on you.

“Does it bother you?” he asks later, when you’re walking along the river, shoes in hand.

You look at him. The face people worship, softened now by the golden blur of sunset.

“Being seen with you?” you ask. “Not even a little.”

He stops walking.

You stop with him.

“I used to dream about this day,” he says. “And it always ended bittersweet. I’d imagine it perfectly — then remember I’d wake up alone. That it wasn’t real.”

You step closer.

“It is now.”

“I know,” he breathes, and takes your face in his hands like a man anchoring himself to something holy. “But every time I look at you, I still have to fight the instinct to memorize you. Like I’ll blink and lose it all again.”

You touch his chest. His heartbeat is fast.

“Then memorize me,” you say. “But only so you can tell me all the details when we’re eighty.”

He laughs. It cracks through him — bright and reckless.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs.

“And you’re overdue for everything good.”

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!──★ ˙🍓 ̟

Later, the moon is up, and the streets are quieter. You lie side by side on a picnic blanket you picked up impulsively, under fairy lights in a hidden park neither of you had ever noticed before.

Hyunjin’s hand finds yours.

“I spent years trying to write joy from pain,” he says softly. “But this… this is what joy actually feels like.”

You nod.

“Messy. Loud. Sweet. Shared.”

He turns on his side, props his head on his hand.

“Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“When it stops being new… when the sparkle fades and we’re just two people arguing about laundry… promise me we’ll still do this sometimes.”

“This?”

“This,” he says. “Food and laughter and streetlights. Kisses with sauce still on our lips. Choosing sweetness. Even when we’re tired. Especially then.”

You lean in and kiss him.

He tastes like sticky sugar and spiced glaze and the kind of forever you don’t need to write songs about — because you’re living it.

“I promise.”

°°°end°°°

[gomzdrawfr]

NAKED GRANDMA

Now that I have your attention, just wanted to put out a few things. This does not apply to anyone in particular, but set as a reminder to everyone, though I will be directing some of these to people who warranted it. This applies to both here on tumblr and on my twitter page.

At the end of the day, Raven is MY original character.

about the top/bottom thing

I get a lot of asks pushing the idea that Raven must be dominant or topping Price because she's a badass which let me be clear, Raven is a switch. Sometimes she tops, most time she doesn't. If I've already talked or drawn things where she's explicitly bottoming or just being submissive, you who comes in and push her to topping instead in an already established dynamic and context is kind of a dick move to me. Listen, just because a character is strong and competent doesn't mean she is also dependent in the bedroom, that they are only valid if they're dominant at all time. Get that misogyny bs out of here.

about requests and rude comments

If you're sending ask telling me to draw a mlm art with Price, going as far as telling me that Price is gay why do you have to do what every tiktokers/artist and ship him with a skinny copy and paste girl- Get out. This is my blog and you're coming here to frame her presence and existence as somehow inferior just because "it's better" then please fuck off. Take your sexisms and poorly disguised fetish FAR AWAY FROM ME. I won't entertain these asks and simply won't care. This is my main OC with stories and lores I care about. You want mlm? then find it elsewhere, there are places out there with this sort of content. Also, just fucking block me if you hate my OC stuff so much. Block the tags block my blog everything, if you need a tutorial here's one. I promise I don't give a flying fuck of your feelings.

Also, another subset of asks who's somehow disappointed about the fact with Raven marrying and having a family with Price (which mind you, the kids exist in a different timeline and not the canon one even), as though settling down with someone you love is????wrong???bad????? You people gotta be coming from the most narrow-minded or cesspool of tiktok/twitter to think settling down is downplaying her character. Again, this must be fucking linked back to the idea that "strong woman" must remain cold, isolated, work all the time to be valid. Don't bring your "oh she could've earned her Master degree and that high paying job at New York but noooo she settled with a boy without frontal lobe development who still stays at his mom's basement without a paying job instead :(((" and "just as worse as early Disney Princesses story" into MY NARRATIVE. Raven and Price are both approaching 40, coming from high demand and stress work who WANTS to settle down and build something NICE and domestic together. It's healing and they deserve it. Don't go around projecting your dislike for marriage and kids onto my, or ANYONE'S characters and dynamics (again, it's my OC??? like???? kindly fuck off once more??????)

Raven should and must do this or that

No, Raven should rest. Tone is important, if at any point it sounded like a pressure than a chill hey an idea :D then out the door you go as well.

Final note

I'm not trying to deter anyone from sending ask about Raven, you're welcome to make your HC and interpretations about Raven because well it's the internet and part of the fandom experience. I do enjoy and love answering ask about them! On the occasions I don't engage or respond to them, it's not personal alright? I just don't agree with or vibe with the take, I'm very specific with Raven specifically because she's the closest OC I've got here. But please please don't keep pushing your view onto mine, especially when I've already established my take on her.

I am sharing my OC with you, because I love her, I love her story and everything I've done to build her, and to share some of those moments both sad and joy with you because it's fun. I'm not here to warp her by popular demands or to change what she does just because you're whining about it.

Thank you for reading this far, and thank you everyone who has been kind and respectful. Here's to more OC shenanigans.

[sparklykat-hideoutenthusiast]

I've seen people doing an intro post so I suppose I should do the same right? I have no idea how to do this, I'm just winging it :3

INTRO POST TIME WOOO!!

[last updated: sat dec 7th at 7:18 PM 2024]

(I update this often, a reread of it every now and then would be greatly appreciated!)

Maybe every week/month depending on your time scale? ↑

Follow my other blog where I reblog a bunch of stuff and things for the full experience of my personality and interests! @eckos-reblogs :3

@everytime-i-reach-the-postlimit ←Exactly as the name entails

@nature-is-mystical ←is my other random blog that you can follow as well if you want.

that blog is just for reblogging nature stuff and posting nature stuff. (Occasionally rhymes come with it ig)

side blog for fanart!: @sonar-fanart-hall

I'm always working on making reference sheets for OCs ^^

Chill dude side blog: @cool-dudes-official

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

I will continue to edit this, probably for the rest of time to get it right since I'm a slight perfectionist lol

Hello! I've been an artist for around 5 to 6 years, and I still kinda suck at it! I do traditional art normally but I've been branching out to digital art as well. I mostly draw animals, anthropomorphic creatures, creatures in general, whatever beautifully ugly faces I can come up with, and sometimes human faces!

I classify as a furry but do not reblog a ton of furry stuff nor do I have a fursuit. I just like drawing and seeing anthropomorphic animals :3

Furries, Therians, anyone of lgbtq+ community (including ace people cuz apparently there's a debate about that), weirdos (but NOT in the gross way), and more are welcome on my blog! :3 ❤️ (you're kinda automatically welcome if you're kind anyway lol but whatevs :3)

Tags and stuff! To help you find stuff in my blog better through search :)

#Ecko draws -exactly as is obvious, it will be for when I make art, digital or traditional.

#Echo Rambles -For posts of mine that include mainly me talking about random stuff

#Echo rants - for when I rant. Similar to #Echo rambles but different..

#Echo answers - For when I answer asks!! :D

#The Clowder seeks - For when you guys ask me stuff!

#Mama Change - For when I mention my mom. (Her name is change..or it's more of a nickname but no one calls her by her actual name except for professional/job people like a dentist or something)

#Echo asks - For when I ask questions :3 lol

#Eckos moots <3 - for interactions with moots, obviously 🙄 (I love y'all sm)

#Ecko irl - me irl

My main Media for traditional art is, pens, pencil, gel pens, paint markers (posca) and normal markers! I hope to soon branch out to ink! (Maybe one day you'll get to see some watercolor stuff from me. It's not that good of watercolor art and I don't enjoy painting too much tbh)

Anatomy You say? Don't know her 😔

If you are interested, I do art requests! It's not guaranteed to be good or to be done quickly but I will try my very best every time. You can even request multiple times if you'd like! Like a ton of times! I really don't mind!

You can also request art of fandoms I'm not in but make sure to give me a good reference or the drawing will look off :3

Art requests open until further notice.

If there's something I don't mention here that you're wondering if I can draw or not, give me an ask in my inbox and I'll let you know! (Pls, I'm friendly I swear)

You can also dm me if you'd like but I'd prefer the askbox instead (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

I can't draw/don't want to draw: items, anatomy, bodies (unless you want the equivalent of a boxy stick figure), rendering, lighting, dragons (without a reference), romance/NSFW (no, just no.), hands, human legs (for the life of me 😭), +more

I can draw/like to draw: faces, animals (mostly cat related ones but you can request any animal and I'll at least try to draw it.), different hair styles (only with a reference), eye bags (I think they're pretty lol), dragons (only with a good reference), gore (not the best at it but I'll will try my best to make something nice and bloody for ya!), +more!

My name is Ecko and it's my preferred name but you can refer to me as Melleona (my OC) or by a nickname as well if you'd like! (just please ask me first if you want to use a nickname as I'm bad with setting boundaries.)

My pronouns are She/Her but feel free to refer to me as it/it's! :3

Speaking of which! This is my OC, Melleona:

She is 14 years old, she is introverted and blunt but also shy and insecure. She has anxiety, dealt with a bit of depression, and she's very casual as well as lazy (like me lol)

She's half Cat, she has greyish blue eyes (not visible in the drawing), slightly blueish black hair that's long enough to reach her ankles, she has a mushroom themed party hat, and some wicked whiskers!

If there's anything you'd like to ask me about her or ask her, go ahead and ask away! I love anons and normal asks! ❤️❤️❤️ (There is a slight filter on the drawing. I'll edit this later and put her color palette below ❤️)

I'm a minor! Mind your words, don't send me gross/weird asks or messages. (I've already had a few people message me asking for my age, a picture of me, and my sexuality. No, I will not be sharing my real appearance on here. my age? Minor, that's all you need to know. My sexuality? I don't know and you don't need to know either, respectfully ^^❤️)

IDC if I post something slightly suggestive or that says I know about 18+ themes. I posted it, not someone saying something to me of those themes. Sure, I understand the stuff but It really doesn't matter now does it? It just means I understand enough to know you shouldn't be saying that stuff to me. (Boundaries ✨)

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

I do half-curse in posts from time to time. I do censor it a bit tho, like "f7ck" for example. Hope ya don't mind (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）

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

I'd appreciate it if people reblogged my art!

I don't appreciate reposting it however.

Just in case you don't know what the difference between reposting rather than reblogging: it's when you (typically) take a screenshot of the art, and then repost it on either Tumblr or a different app rather than hitting the reblog button!

While this has never happened to me personally, I do feel like it's worth mentioning.

Oh, and, don't under a circumstance feed my art to AI. I can forgive reposting my art. I put out there for people to see not to get fame from it but under no circumstances EVER will I allow feeding my art to AI. It is not human. It does not make art.

AI artists don't exist unless it's used ONLY to assist with a process that is still mostly YOUR OWN SKILLS THAT YOU'VE CULTIVATED OVER TIME. AI is NOT art but it can HELP with art.

ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ-ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ-ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ-ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ-ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ

don't dm asking me to commission from you. like said before, I don't have money bc I'm a minor + I don't like being pestered for me commission you. talk to me like a person, not an ATM.

If I want to commission someone, I will dm them and even then, I'm most likely to commission art from a friend to support them.

I support the lgbtq+ community! And I don't discriminate against race. I really shouldn't have to say this. (˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘)

I will respond to money asks with "!!" And that's it. I don't have money and even if I did I don't got any money to spare. I'm broke and struggling too. Not to mention, I'm a minor and can't just go out and get the stuff. I hope you understand and I wish you all the best!❤️❤️❤️

Some games and shows and stuff I like:

Shows and stuff: Rick and Morty, adventure time, lost in space, bsd (never watched it but I've seen enough of it on the Internet to know a bit about it. Very interesting :3), Some of the Life Minecraft series, httyd, doctor who, and more!

Games/fandoms: Yonder(Yonder Cloud Catcher Chronicles.), Minecraft, the Stanley parable, tiny bit of South Park, cotl, MLP(childish I know but I don't care. I love them), creepypasta, SCPs, Trevor Henderson's creatures (mostly cartoon cat), plants vs zombies, fran bow, little misfortune, and more!

Stuff and things (hobbies?): Art, apparently I make rhymes now too??, rollerblading, climbing, Hiking (iffy), sleeping, being annoying+lazy, doom scrolling, interacting with people, and more!

(I'm not really in any fandoms really..kinda like on the edge of being in each and every fandom I come across..)

General facts about me! Yippee!

I think eye bags and wrinkles are pretty (odd, I know lol), I live in a bus (not decked out like you see on social media though. We just live in a bus lol), I live with my ma (my dad is my step dad and he and my mom just broke up psooo ye), I blank out a lot and just stare at people for no reason (which freaks them out), I have greyish blue eyes (a long with some, I'm pretty sure permanent eye bags lol), I get energy right before nighttime mostly (and then it disappears as soon as it reaches around 11 pm to 12 am), My favorite color is maroon (and any type of blue along with orange and yellow and forest green..mostly just comfy vibe colors tbh but maroon is a fixed piece), my favorite animal is a cat (although I have a dog. Muffin doesn't count as a dog, she's practically human. Apart of the family.), and more!

(I'll update this as I go)

[I will block as I see fit]

Do not interact with my blog if: You're racist, you only or mostly have sexual themes on your own blog (I apologize but it makes me uncomfortable. Have some other interests and it might make me less uncomfortable ^^), if you in general just enjoy hating on people for no reason (I like to make my area a safe space for people) if you're a Zoophile (No explanation really needed but animals can't consent.) (more will be added later when I think of what to add)

Don't dm me unless you're a moot or you say your intentions within the first 1-3 messages. (moots that I've interacted with can send me a dm unprompted with stated intentions anytime they'd like. Special privileges ✨)

(Added a specific part of that bc a moot felt they were making me uncomfortable by having such themes on their blog. I didn't really realize at first but yes that does make slightly uncomfortable but I don't really care as long as you have other interests. If s3x is your only interest, it weirds me out to have those types of people interact with me. Just know you're all good moot, you're not the type of person I was aiming it at. There are other people that just don't think about anything else but $ex and relationships that creep me out and you are not one of them. ^^❤️)

Things about me, (random stuff): I am cringe from time to time, my fav colors are maroon and any kind of blue, orange is nice too though,

I appreciate any and all constructive criticism. IDC if it sounds rude and might hurt my feelings, TELL ME so I can help better myself and my blog! I'm dum and will most likely not notice I'm doing something weird or anything :P <3

•Send me asks! Wanna to hug one of my OCs, Want to slap the sh1t out of one of em, Want to introduce me to a new (or old) fandom I don't know of but you think I might be interested in, Want to say hi, Want to give a music suggestion, send an ask!

I LOVE interaction and if possible, I want to be busy with asks at all times so send a ton!

•Moots:

@theachskid @voidsweirdthoughts @burningbutter @rafrfr @rateater2000

@footlongdingledong @ender-the-insomniac @thistlebriar @rspoetry @virtualcroissantflapcolor

@jawdoesstuff @storythesilly @yourfavoritecuntist @chamber-of-voices @i-draw-things

@2oo7xddd @catsreblogging @silli-billy15 @totally-not-a-commie @khloethecatsworld

@1nd13gh0st @cur1os1tyk1lledme @nonbinaryriverclan @ilove-fanart-and-lore405 @hermitchild

@my-mom-named-me-duck @hermitchild

@williamsart12345 @lilytheaxoltollover @twobraincellsremaining @nn-the-doodle @emmajasonartz

@bugba-bugbee @railway323 @xho-the-scribble @asqadia-banthen @nasthesilly @ceaselessbackflips

@the-anxious-acrobat @justuravghazbin @callmekiyo24 @maybeyoullfindthissomeday

@sensehumor ♥️

+any future moots/one's I might have forgotten (I hope I wouldn't forget anyone 🥲)

If you don't like being tagged in tag games, let me know and I'll move your name over here cuz I copy paste the ones above for tagging in stuff: (nothing here yet!)

Moot side blogs: @thistlebriar-tags @my-dad-named-me-goose @mysterious-other-being @

Btw, moot/friend privileges: tagging me in whatever the heck you want, sending nonstop and possibly annoying asks, dming me and having a convo at random, +more! I love all y'all and am more than happy to interact ❤️

My art ↑

Yippee!! That's all for now folks! ❤️

I'll update this whole thing as I go, any questions, just send an ask and I'll update this with the answer as well as you know- replying in general lol :3

I seem incredibly childish in this intro post and my general posts but do know, I am over 12 years of age lmao 🤣

I'mma keep some notes here as well... mostly for tone stuffs cuz I can't remember these 😭

/lh = lighthearted

/j = joking

/hj = half joking