#had PARAGRAPHS in the comment section

[im-still-watching-anime]

just gave my first actual bad review of an instructor in the end of course evals and i have never felt so alive

[willowcrowned]

the mortifying ordeal of someone you asked for concrit giving you the concrit you asked for

[mebiselfandi]

.

[monstersandmaw]

Male kelpie (dad-bod, single father, biker) x plus size f. reader - Part One (sfw)

Background info post on the Full Moon Motorcycles group here Oats Appreciation post here

Featuring a plus-size, bisexual, not very confident reader, and a divorced, Scottish, single-dad, biker kelpie with a soft-dad bod and a heart as big as his bike’s engine (possibly bigger).

CW: there is a very brief moment where a character (not Oats!) insults the reader for her size and uses some fat-phobic language towards and about her, unaware that she can hear him. If you’re sensitive to that, it is brief, but you can skip from “…you caught the conversation drifting over from the other guys who’d arrived just ahead of you.” to the paragraph beginning, “After some deep breaths and a check in the mirror…”. Also, if you squint, there’s a passing moment that could possibly be interpreted as the reader having some potential issues with food, but it’s not intended to be a big deal and it’s only for about two sentences. Still putting it in here too, just in case. 

Wordcount: 7562

You pushed open the glass door of Full Moon Motorcycles and willed yourself not to feel self-conscious or out of place.

Having both an older brother and a mother who rode motorbikes had at least given you a fair bit of familiarity with bikes and the general ‘biker culture’, but it was mostly the fact that almost all the ‘biker girls’ you saw posing on social media were slim and toned, which you were decidedly not.

From the utterly foetid takes in the comments section of the one post your brother had shared on his page with you in it, you’d also got the impression that the biker community was not particularly kind to any woman with a waist over 25 inches. It probably wasn’t the case, but your one experience with it had been enough to make you very wary.

And yet, as you made your way towards the bike shop’s counter and the older man with floppy, greying hair and warm brown eyes looked up, you were greeted with an open, welcoming smile.

“Hi there,” he said, standing up with a grunt from the comfy chair where he’d been sitting in the corner near the shop’s antique cash register. “What can I do for you?”

You smiled shyly and glanced along the wooden countertop before returning your gaze to him. “I’m looking for a present for my brother, but I’m kind of on a budget…”

“Gotcha. We’ve got some silly key fobs there,” he said, indicating a rotating display rack at one end of the counter, with mottoes that ranged from funny to explicit, “But if they like working on their bike themselves, you can’t go wrong with some maintenance supplies… Not the most glamorous but I promise they’ll be grateful to you all the same.”

“Could always tie a festive ribbon round it,” you said, and he chuckled and nodded.

“That’s the spirit.”

You eyed the reasonable price of the fobs with some relief, and then followed his gesture towards the various bottles of chain degreaser and the like, and a few other useful tools and kits that were stacked on shelves on the back wall to the right of a door that presumably led into the back and store rooms.

The right hand side of the shop had the counter and some shiny, new bikes that had been parked in a row around the perimeter of the space, and the left hand side was more open with a bench or two against the brick walls, and some red, mechanics’ tool-chests tucked against the back wall. A number of leather two- and one-piece suits hung in racks at the furthest end though, with helmets on shelves and a few rows of t-shirts, jeans, gloves, and boots displayed too. There were oil stains in the centre of the polished concrete floor, and you suspected that tinkering took place there outside of the shop’s usual opening hours.

The whole vibe of Full Moon Motorcycles was friendly and cosy, with a slightly industrial, grungy note for some flavour.

In short, you loved it.

“There are also some fun helmet covers –” the older man chuckled, and added, “A number of the regulars here have them, and there are also some earplugs, or perhaps a tough phone case and mount? A chain care kit? There are some vinyl stickers too, and t-shirts, socks, neck warmers, balaclavas, mugs, helmet care kits, thermals…”

Laughing, you held up your hands for him to stop, and he started to chuckle too.

“I’ll let you browse in peace, sweetheart,” he said, his whisky brown eyes twinkling. Even his un-looked-for endearment came across as kindly instead of creepy, and not many men could pull that off. “You just holler if you have questions and I’ll be happy to –”

The door opened behind you and he broke off as his attention was snagged by the arrival of a heavy-set guy in dark jeans and a softly-worn, black leather jacket. He held a black helmet with a tinted visor in his large hands, and he looked more than a little wind-blown and rumpled.

Incongruous with his rather roguish-dishevelment, a lock of his long, thick, slightly grizzled, black hair was held back by a little hair-clip with a Barbie-pink, fabric bow. It didn’t fit with the dark scruff of stubble on his jaw or the piercing green-blue eyes at all, but he seemed completely unfazed by its presence.

“Oats!” the older man exclaimed with obvious joy, clapping his hands. “It’s been a while, my boy! How was the trip to Scotland? You make it round the NC500 this time?”

The ‘boy’ looked to be in his mid to late thirties…

“Ach, no’ a chance this time, Hank,” the man chuckled with a heavy, Scottish accent lacing his rich, rough baritone. Exactly where in Scotland he was from, you couldn’t tell, but it was lyrical and attractive all the same.

“Ah, next time, next time. And is Natalie well?

“Oh aye, my wee Loch Ness Monster is doing just fine. She’ll be terrorising her mother for the Christmas holidays. I came straight from the road though — clutch started playing up just south of Birmingham.” He grimaced, but even that looked charming somehow. “Sort of hoped you might find a minute to take a look at it for me if I left the Old Girl here. No rush though.”

“No problem, Oats. We’ll get her running properly again in no time. Bet you’re missing little Natalie already,” Hank added sympathetically.

“Ah, you have no idea,” the man, peculiarly-named ‘Oats’, sighed ruefully, shaking his head.

“See she left you with a parting gift though,” Hank snorted, pointing at the bow hair clip.

With a slight frown to his dark eyebrows, Oats reached up and patted at his head until he found it, and then he laughed. It was a loud, delighted, full-bellied sound that reverberated through the space while it lasted, and he left the hair clip where it was with no trace of self-consciousness as he lowered his hand again. “Aye, that she did. Surprised it survived the journey down with my lid on and everything. Oh –” His unusually pale green eyes landed on you, watching him and lurking near the rows of t-shirts on the back wall, and he went still.

Those sea-grey eyes raked you up and down, clearly noting the way your black leggings clung to the curves of your thighs and hips, and the black hoodie, which maybe went some way to hiding the softness of your stomach a bit, and he swallowed visibly. He looked… hungry. That was not the usual reaction you had grown accustomed to from men, and you let the flare of heat lick up your insides for just a moment, daring to hope that maybe he did find you attractive.

“Sorry,” he said in your direction, with a soft, dusky smile. “Didnae mean t’interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” you managed to croak back at him before returning your attention, however reluctantly, to present options for your brother while the older man, Hank, hobbled out around the corner of the wooden counter to chat amicably with the man. You couldn’t hear what was said as the two chatted in lower voices, but it was evident that they were good friends. While they talked, however, you couldn’t help noticing that he stole occasional sidelong glances in your direction, and you felt your face warm pleasantly.

‘Oats’ was certainly an unusual nickname, but then again, almost everyone who rode with your brother also had their own nicknames for one reason or another. As you browsed, you wondered what Oats had done to earn that one. He certainly looked like a snack to you, but you vowed not to let your attraction to the stranger show. Awkward situations (or worse, silences) tended to arise when you let that happen.

He had a tanned, outdoorsy complexion, and longish, black hair that was tied back in a low ponytail that brushed below the collar of his black leather jacket. It looked like it had a tendency to flop into his face when not restrained by that out-of-place pink bow. He filled out the jacket very well, and clearly had a soft paunch, and his thighs looked frankly delectable in those thick, indigo jeans. You prayed you wouldn’t have to see him fully from the back if he turned around, to witness the way he filled out the seat of his jeans too.

Fuck. Concentrate.

Bike gifts for brother, not delicious-looking stranger you’re never going to see again.

“Well, I shouldnae hang about, I suppose.”

Oats’ voice cut through your musings in front of chain degreasers and you jumped a little. Glancing back over at him, you offered him a smile when he too turned to look at you one last time, and a slow, charming smile crept onto his handsome face.

“See you,” he said with a dip of his head. Before he strode from the shop though, he let his eyes roam once more down the length of you and he bit his lower lip, almost regretfully, then turned away abruptly.

Oh yes. He absolutely did fill out the ass of those jeans beautifully.

Quite honestly, you weren’t totally sure what you ended up getting your brother for his birthday. You took whatever it was to the counter in a daze, your mind replaying over and over the way he’d looked at you.

“Must say,” Hank said conspiratorially as he fished your change from the antique cash register and slid it across the polished, wooden counter towards you. “I’ve never seen Oats quite so taken with someone, miss.” He chuckled, his kind, whisky-brown eyes glinting. “You take care now.”

Swallowing, you nodded and left the shop, hoping perhaps to find Oats waiting for you outside on the street, leaning against his motorcycle, but life was not a movie, and wherever he was, he was not lingering in the hopes of seeing you. In fact, the street was completely deserted, so you crossed, clambered into your little hatchback, and drove home with the feeling that you’d let a pivotal moment in your life pass you by.

Your sour mood persisted like a raincloud for the whole week, but by the time you were driving over to your brother’s on Saturday for his birthday ride, you were trying to pull yourself out of it. You had your own helmet with you, secured in the back of the car, and beside it was (now wrapped) the present you’d got him. In fact, it was a chain care kit, and, although you hadn’t noticed at the time, Hank had thrown in a free keychain that said ‘In my defence, I was left unsupervised’ which was very on-brand for your brother. You had planned to go back and thank him for the freebie as soon as you could, but your brother’s birthday ride had been planned for that Saturday, and work had been hell that week, so you’d not had the chance.

Predictably, Alex wasn’t in the house when you rang the doorbell, so you followed the sound of metallic clinking and laughter, and went round the side to find him tinkering with his mad little Honda Grom in the garage, while his two best mates — Eggs and Sparky — were lounging around and either making unhelpful suggestions or lewd comments.

“Yo!” Sparky grinned when he saw you, sitting up straighter and almost falling off the mechanic’s tool chest he was leaning his weight against. At Sparky’s exclamation, your brother sat up and banged his head on the handlebars of the short little Grom with a curse.

“Hey,” you mumbled in Sparky’s general direction. “Happy birthday, Alex.”

Alex scrambled upright and came over to hug you, probably smearing grease and dirt all over your armoured jacket, but since it was black anyway, you didn’t mind too much. Alex was about as opposite to you as it was possible to get — straight up and down like a beanpole, and tall. You took after your mother, inheriting all her thick curves and soft edges. Soft heart too.

“Thought this might come in handy,” you mumbled when Alex released you and you held out the brown paper bag stamped with the logo of Full Moon Motorcycles.

His eyes lit up when he saw the logo, and he tore into it like a chipmunk after a peanut, grinning in delight when he’d dismembered it, and in particular he showed off the keychain to his mates. Eggs snatched it and tried to claim it for himself, but Alex was having none of it, and the three of them scrapped and goofed around while you sat down on an old, metal stool in the corner and waited for the other two of your small party to show up, with a cool, curdling kind of dread in the pit of your stomach when you heard one name in particular. Nooner.

Within an hour though, you were all out on the road.

You took the pillion seat behind Alex, and warded his mates off at red lights when they came for his killswitch to immobilise him. A while later though, Alex zoomed off down the open road that would take you all out of town and towards the somewhat famous biker cafe, ‘Elusive Neutral’, that sat nestled amongst the fragrant heather of the rolling hills surrounding the old market town.

The sky was a gorgeous, autumnal blue and the weather was perfect, neither too hot nor too cold, and as your brother’s Yamaha flew along the winding A-road that was every biker’s dream, you cracked a smile and gently tipped your head back. As much as it had scared you when you’d first ridden behind your mother all those years ago, you did love the feeling of being out on a bike. Not that you were actually brave enough to want to try and learn yourself though. Something always held you back, made you wary and unsure, and then you inevitably felt down about that too. God, you wished you had Alex’s wild confidence.

Nothing good ever seemed to last for you though, and when Alex’s R1 had purred into the car park behind Eggs and Sparky, and you’d hopped off to let him reverse more easily into a space, you caught the conversation drifting over from the other guys who’d arrived just ahead of you.

“…if he didn’t have his fat sister with him, we could have fucking ripped it up along those twisties.” That, of course, had come from Nooner, named for the fact that he rarely stuck to two wheels and always pulled wheelies, or ‘nones’, whenever he got the chance. Out of all of your brother’s friends, he was the one you liked the least, for… obvious reasons.

“Talk about killing the vibes, huh?” Eggs replied, trying to suck up to him, as ever. “More like ‘crushing’!”

The reason Eggs had earned his nickname was that he’d lost a bet and shaved his head when they’d all been about sixteen, and he’d looked like a boiled egg til it grew back. You wished you had the sass to remind him of that every time his spine seemed to crumble in favour of earning a half-hearted snicker out of Nooner.

When Alex joined you, he caught the crestfallen expression on your face and frowned, but you shook your head and walked away from them, heading for the cafe alone.

“Can’t wait to shove some cake in her fat gob already,” Nooner added as an aside to Eggs, and your vision blurred as tears welled along your lashes. Why did people have to be so cruel? To trample all over someone else just to feel a little taller themselves?

You vaguely heard what sounded like Sparky’s voice countering the comment, but you didn't stick around either way. If you mentioned it to your brother again, he’d just say it was banter with the guys and not to take it to heart. Easy for someone who's never been on the end of that kind of comment to shrug it off, after all.

You ducked straight for the toilets when you got inside the airy, modern cafe, not even bothering to look around or find a table first.

After some deep breaths and a check in the mirror to see that you hadn’t turned your eyeliner into a panda cosplay, you headed out again and made for the little bar that doubled as a counter for people who were there solo to sit and eat instead of taking up a whole table to themselves. None of your brother’s friends joined you, and when you glanced back over your shoulder, you saw that they’d settled themselves around a table in the far corner and already had a number for a server to bring their food order over. They hadn’t even waited for you.

“Fuck them,” you hissed through gritted teeth, taking a seat at the bar instead. The stools were made of old tractor seats, and they were surprisingly comfortable, and as you leaned your forearms on the countertop, the young woman behind the counter came over to you with a smile that made you feel a little better.

“Hey,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

You ordered a hot drink, and then took out your phone while you waited for her to make it for you.

For half an hour or so, you sat scrolling through social media and sipping your drink and telling yourself this was your brother’s day and not yours. He did come over a couple of times, but you declined to sit with his friends, and because he’d never had any real reason to doubt you before, he took you at your word when you told him you were happy enough where you were. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you said, and he believed you.

Patting you on the shoulder, he left you for the third time, and you looked down into the dregs of your drink with a heavy sigh. “This sucks.”

Outside, the sound of more bikes arriving made your ears perk up, and you wondered idly what they rode. Elusive Neutral had once been an old cattle barn, but it had been completely redone and the walls on two sides had been replaced with vast picture windows that showed the sweeping expanse of moorland beyond, and a small sliver of the car park at one end. Craning your neck, you saw a group of maybe five or six bikers draw up, some on hipster looking cafe racers and others on racy sports bikes. There was even a Ducati Panigale among them, and behind them followed an old, battered, blue pickup truck.

The door opened a little while later, and you glanced over, eyes drawn instinctively by the movement.

Above the general chatter and merry chinking of china in the room, the energy of the new group of bikers rose like a cloud of dizzy mayflies; buzzing and excited and full of joy. You watched them all with interest from your perch at the counter.

The first through the door was an absolute Amazon of a woman, with her long black hair restrained in a thick braid, and shoulders the width of a barn door. She was lean and tall, and in her biker gear she looked… incredible. Her face was strikingly handsome, but until she glanced down at the woman walking beside her, her features were hard and glowering and unspeakably stern. She held the door open for one of the others to follow her inside, but when she locked eyes again with the brunette by her side, her whole expression melted into unguarded adoration. Your gut twisted briefly with jealousy.

It wouldn’t matter to you who looked at you like that, if only someone would.

You looked away, and by the time you glanced back at the bikers, the whole group had filed in from outside. There was a guy with golden-brown skin and beautiful dark brown eyes who had his arm wrapped possessively around the waist of a pale, skinny guy in black jeans and a moth-eaten, black jumper, with his long hair tied back in a bun, and behind them came a strikingly attractive guy in a manual wheelchair, flanked by a very short biker with slightly anaemic looking skin. You wondered fleetingly if the guy in the wheelchair had ridden a motorbike there, and if so how, before you realised he was probably the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, with long, flowing red hair and dark green eyes, and the kind of mouth that was made for laughing, and for kissing.

Jesus, was it an unwritten rule of being a biker that you had to be unfairly attractive? Even Hank, who you recognised with a start of surprise coming in behind the guy with red hair, wasn’t unattractive, in a bulky, older man kind of way.

The guy walking with him though… he truly made your stomach swoop.

It was Oats.

You looked away before he could spot you, sitting alone at the bar like some pathetic creature waiting for cocktail hour to begin. It was lunchtime on a sunny, autumnal Saturday though, and there you were sitting alone because you didn’t fancy sitting with your brother’s loser mates.

God, the way Oats had looked in his tough-looking leather jacket, with his eyes crinkled mid-laugh at something the guy in the wheelchair had shot back at them over his shoulder… You bit your lip and stared into the bottom of your cold, empty mug like it would divine some kind of solution to your situation for you.

The new group didn’t seem to notice you while they filed up to the counter, jostling and joking, and when they drifted off to another corner of the cafe, you turned back to your phone, trying desperately to resist the almost overwhelming urge to keep turning over your shoulder to watch them.

Before too long however, you startled at a soft tap on your shoulder, and you looked around to find Oats himself stepping back to a polite distance and smiling down at you like he’d found a treasure in an unexpected place.

“Hey there,” he said in that rolling, Scottish accent that did unspeakably indecent things to your insides. “Sorry if I’m intruding, but you were at Full Moon last week, right?”

Mute for a moment, you nodded, and mustered up a slightly dazed smile for him.

“You… here alone?” he asked, eyeing the currently-empty seats to your left and right. In fact, someone had only just gathered up their belongings and left.

“Kind of?” you croaked, letting your eyes slide over to the table where your brother and his friends were hunched over one of their phones, snickering at something. “It’s… It’s my brother’s birthday today. I… tagged along as pillion, but… you know… I’m kind of a spare part really.”

At that, Oats’ dark eyebrows knitted into a scowl and he looked across the room at them before returning his attention to you. Then, his unearthly, almost prismatic, silver-green eyes took in your empty cup and he grinned. “Can I get y’a top up?”

Your instinct was to refuse, but you bit your lip. This didn’t feel real. A cute, handsome, courteous guy was actually taking an interest in you.

“Sure. Thank you.” And the smile that spread itself across your face telegraphed your delight in a way that was impossible to disguise with any kind of suave grace.

Oats, however, seemed equally delighted, and nodded. The barista came back over and he leaned his weight on the counter to talk to her. He seemed to have that enviably easy manner with everybody, and he even charmed a free slice of cake out of her too with what felt like no effort at all.

“Chocolate? Or something else?” he asked you.

“Pardon?”

“Cake.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” you said, but he frowned.

“You sure? I’m gonna have a bit of their chocolate cake. It’s so good, it’s practically a sin.”

“I…” you faltered.

He didn’t pressure you though and shrugged easily, turning back to the barista. “Gimme two forks with that, love. Just in case.”

“No problem,” she beamed back while she bustled about, and Oats eyed the empty bar stool next to yours.

“May I?”

You swallowed your nerves and nodded. “Please.” And then, because apparently a demon of confidence had temporarily possessed you, you eyed his slightly helmet-flattened forelock and said, “No pink hair clips today?”

He guffawed loudly enough that your brother actually glanced over and frowned when he saw you talking with a stranger.

Oats snorted and shook his head. “No, not today. My daughter is still up in Scotland with her mother.” He fixed you with a more serious look and said, “She and I divorced, before you get the wrong idea about me flirting like this with a beautiful woman.”

The compliment caught you so off-guard that you just froze for a moment, but when the heat of a blush filled your face, you looked away and he chuckled.

“I’m not normally so forward, but I’ve been kicking myself for not talking to you when I first saw you in Full Moon. Hank was telling me just this morning what a muppet I’d made of myself for walking away like that.”

You looked behind you at the group of his friends and then turned back to him. “Won’t they think you’re being rude, ignoring them like this?”

He shook his head and smiled. “They’re probably all taking bets on how quickly you’ll shoot me down.”

“What? I’d have to be an idiot to do that.”

At that, his face split into a huge, handsome grin and he shook his head just a little. “Lucky me,” he said. “You ride?” he added, eyeing your jacket that was obviously a motorcycle jacket.

You shrugged. “Pillion. I’ve never ridden myself, but my brother lets me come out with him sometimes.”

Oats nodded, and then, as the barista set down his coffee, your top-up, and the plate of decadent chocolate cake with two forks, he said, “I’m Euan, by the way, but everyone calls me Oats.”

You introduced yourself, and then said, “Oats?”

He snorted and nodded. “Not the worst nickname, for sure.”

“Can I ask where it came from?”

Oats nodded and shunted the plate towards you first before leaning his elbow on the bar and watching you while he spoke. “I think it’s because I’m a dad, but I’m always prepared for most situations, and when it comes to my Natalie, she’s always hungry. I’ve usually got about a thousand granola bars stashed away about my person —” he said, cutting himself off to pat conspicuously at his jacket pockets. Pulling a slightly dog-eared crunchy bar from his breast pocket, he wielded it like a magic wand at you and said, “Case in point.”

“Hence, Oats,” you said, eyeing the healthy brand name on the packet.

“Exactly. Like I said, it could be worse. See the tall lass over there with the dangerous scowl?”

You didn't need to turn around to know which of his friends he was talking about, but you did anyway. “Yeah.”

“We call her Pixie.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” he chuckled, stowing the granola bar back into his pocket and taking a huge scoop of the chocolate cake with his own fork.

“What do you ride then?” you asked.

“Triumph Bonneville T120,” he said with almost exactly the same intonation and fondness as he’d just said ‘because I’m a dad’, and you couldn’t help smiling. “Can’t be doing with all these glitzy sports bikes and the like,” he added with a laugh, setting his fork down and blinking slowly. His lashes, you noticed, were thick and dark and enticingly long.

Laughing, you smiled. “Don’t say that too loudly — my brother rides an R1.”

“Nice,” Oats grinned back. “But nothing could entice me away from my girl.”

“I’m surprised you’re here, flirting with me then,” you said. Evidently that confidence demon was still lurking.

Again, Oats laughed, though it was more of a low whicker this time, and it rolled right through you and lit you up all over. God, how long had it been since someone had laughed like that for you?

“There are��� exceptions,” he said in a rumbling murmur. “Tell me about yourself?” he asked, and you did.

You spent the next hour at least talking in an easy back and forth with him while he charmed a few more refills from the barista and a lot of answers out of you, before one of his friends sidled up shyly and waited for a lull in your conversation.

“Sorry to butt in,” the small, unbelievably beautiful woman said. She was the one who’d been on the receiving end of the adoring look from the Amazon, ‘Pixie’. She had chocolate-brown hair falling in thick ringlets around a gorgeous face, and, you were pleased to note, she had wide hips and a softness to her that a lot of the biker chicks you’d seen online didn’t have.

“Coco,” Oats beamed. “Meet my new friend.” He introduced you by name, and Coco smiled at you, holding out her hand.

When your palms connected, you felt a warmth rush through you and you felt like your heart skipped a beat. The feeling like you could tip forwards and drown in her endless, dark brown eyes almost unseated you, but she let go of you and stepped back with a pretty smile on her Cupid’s-bow lips. “Pleasure to meet you. Just wanted to tell Oats that we’re thinking of heading off soon. Ariel has a photoshoot he wants to get to in an hour or so, and Demon’s keen to get going as well.”

Oats nodded, and you tried not to let your stomach drop down to your boots at the thought of all this coming to such an abrupt end.

Coco turned her head sharply to look at you just as the feeling hit, and she smiled faintly. “You could always stay here though, Oats,” she added with a pretty smile. “We’re only going back to Full Moon, and Demon clearly has no intention of lingering there…” She shot a meaningful glance back at their table. Demon, the guy with dark hair and tanned skin, was seated with the guy he’d entered with now draped in his lap, his skinny legs dangling as he sprawled languidly back against the guy’s muscular chest. Demon whispered something into his ear before he clearly bit the shell of his boyfriend’s ear, which made him sit abruptly upright and flush a vibrant pink.

Oats laughed again and shook his head. “Fuck me,” he chuckled privately. “Never thought I’d see the day. You guys go on. I’m… I’m very much content here.”

“I can see that,” Coco smirked, and walked away.

When she was out of earshot, you turned to Oats with a hot flush of your own in your face and said, “Don’t stay if you don’t want to… I’m sure my brother will be leaving soon anyway…”

Just as you said that, and before Oats could reply, Alex reappeared at your side and jutted his chin in Oats’ direction. “You good?” he chirped at you.

“Fine,” you replied. “This is Oats. I met him at Full Moon Motorcycles when I was buying your birthday present.”

“Oh,” Alex replied, holding out his hand for Oats to shake. “Good to meet you, man. You tell her what to get for me? If you did, it was a good choice.”

“No,” Oats said carefully, his grey-green eyes sliding back to your face even while he shook your brother’s hand amicably. “No, whatever she got you, it was all her.”

“Oh, cool,” Alex said. “Listen, sis, we’re gonna hit the road in a while. Nooner and Eggs want to hit the twisties for a bit, but I can’t really do that with a backpack, so Sparky said he’d give you a ride home, if that’s ok.”

You swallowed. “Um…”

“I can give her a lift,” Oats replied after a swift glance in your direction. “She’s already got her own lid, and there’s room on the Bobber’s double seat for both of us.”

“I don’t know, man,” Alex said with a wary frown.

“Your choice,” Oats shrugged easily, looking at you and holding his hands up just a little.

For a fleeting moment, you weren’t sure, but the idea of wrapping your arms around Oats’ thick middle and sitting astride his gorgeous bike kind of decided it for you. Besides, it was a long time since you’d done anything truly just for yourself; simply because you wanted to. You nodded at your brother. “It’s fine. You go ahead.”

“You sure?”

Nodding to reassure him, you smiled again and Alex backed up a pace. “Cool. Text me later, ok?” he said as he retreated towards his friends, clearly trying to hide his excitement at not having a passenger for the great, twisting section of A-road they were heading for.

“Will do. Have fun, and don’t crash!” you called after him. “Or get a speeding ticket!”

He waved a hand over one shoulder without looking back, and you laughed and returned your attention to Oats. “Brothers.”

“Bikers,” he replied. “You try telling that to any of that lot though —” he gestured towards his own group of friends who were now filtering out of the door. “You ready to head out too or do you want to stay?”

You did want to stay, but the seat wasn’t that comfortable anymore, and you wanted to move around a bit. “No, I’m good to go,” you said and prepared to slide off the stool, but Oats stepped down first and held out his hand to you. You didn't need helping down, and his playful little smirk told you he knew as much, so you rode out the last of that demonic possession and let your fingers slide across his palm and he steadied you off the stool.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Pleasure.”

You picked up your helmet from where you’d stowed it on the floor at your feet and straightened to find him waving casually across the room to the good-looking guy with the ethereally pretty boyfriend. Before he stepped away from you and made towards the door though, you cleared your throat and said, “Oats?”

“Mn?” Looking down at you, his entire attention honed in on you, like you were the centre of the universe, and you swallowed back a sudden welling of emotion.

“Listen… Thank you… for… coming over to me today. Like I said, it’s my brother’s birthday, and he was here with his friends, and he only included me so I didn’t feel completely left out, but…” Accursed tears washed over your eyes for a moment but you blinked them away furiously and ploughed on regardless. “I’m really glad I came along today anyway,” you finished rather pathetically.

His full, beautiful lips curled into a gentle smile and he blinked softly and exhaled. When he spoke, his voice was low and his words private, as though you weren’t standing in a busy cafe surrounded by people and the cheerful clatter of coffee cups and laughter. “I’m really glad I did too. I wasn’t going to, you know? I was going to stay at home and edit a boatload of raw photographs for a client, but Demon convinced me to come out. I guess I owe him.”

“‘Demon’? For… For the speed?” you asked, wondering how he came by his nickname.

“For the horns,” Oats replied in deadpan humour. “Have a look if he’s still there when we go outside. You ready?”

You followed him out of the cafe with a nod, and just as you took a deep, indulgent breath of fresh, heathland air, Oats’ group of friends filed out past you on their bikes. The one named Demon was in the lead, and the nickname made immediate sense. Sitting astride a blood-red Panigale, with his boyfriend clinging on behind him like a limpet, the guy had pale, curving horns fixed to the crown of his helmet.

“Yeah, that tracks,” you said, and Oats waggled his dark eyebrows.

The Amazon had a Yamaha R1 like your brother’s, but hers had a pearl-white wrap that made it look almost spectral, and riding out in front of her was Coco on a yellow and black Honda Hornet.

The telltale red plait told you that the guy in the wheelchair was on a modified Kawasaki, with unusual struts at the back that looked like they would come down when he stopped to stabilise him instead of having to take his legs off the foot pegs, where they were currently Velcro-ed in place. Watching the whole group file out was Hank, standing beside a battered old pickup. In the bed of the truck, you could just see that the red-headed biker’s wheelchair secured in place.

Hank waved the last of them off, then glanced over at Oats. The older man lifted his nose just a little, as if he too was enjoying the fresh, moorland wind that whipped across the car park, and he nodded once at Oats, and then at you to your surprise, before clambering stiffly up into his pickup and closing the door. It shut with a raucous yelp of rusty hinges.

You stood there and watched Oats’ friends all file out, all waving at Oats as they passed, before they set off down the road in a roar of revving engines to leave a lonely looking Bonneville waiting patiently near the stone wall of the car park nearby.

“Yours, I presume?” you said, nodding at it.

“Yup.”

“She’s a beauty,” you mumbled, self-consciousness prickling at the sides of your neck for the silly comment.

Oats beamed though, his sea-foam eyes lighting up as the crinkles around his eyes and the slight dimples in his cheeks creased under the force of his obvious pleasure. “Thank you. She’s my pride and joy. You ready? Oh, wait, you should put your address into my phone before we get going,” he laughed.

You nodded, taking the offered phone from him. Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you took it, and a tiny thrill passed through you that you did your best to quash. With your address plugged in and a route home waiting to be followed, you handed it back to him and looked up into his handsome, rugged face as he smiled.

“Cheers. Let’s go,” he said, and you trailed along beside him over to his bike, heartbeat thudding in your ears with your nerves.

He swung a leg over and turned the key, then pushed the bike upright and nudged the side-stand in with his left foot before flicking the switch and bringing the bike to life. She growled beautifully, the low, thundering rumble of her engine sounding far more visceral and primal than your brother’s sports bike did. Perhaps it was the design of the lower-slung Bonneville, with its visible parts that made you think of a Steampunk aesthetic, but you instantly preferred it. Plus, the double seat looked way more cushioned — and less precarious — than the one you’d perched on to get to the cafe that morning.

Oats got himself comfy while you slid your helmet on, then he looked over his shoulder at you and nodded, so you took that as your cue and got settled on the pillion seat behind him. The footpegs were already down. The pulsing purr of the machine beneath you was almost enough to distract you from the fact that you were entrusting your life to a relative stranger, whom you’d never seen ride before, and as you climbed on and rested your hands politely on his shoulders, you felt a shiver travel through your whole nervous system.

“Do whatever’s comfortable for you, obviously,” Oats said over the noise of his bike, “But if you want to hold my waist — if you can actually get your arms around my middle, that is,” he chuckled self-effacingly, “— feel free. Totally up to you.”

“Thanks,” you yelled back, and, because apparently that pesky demon of confidence was still kicking around, you hugged his torso.

It was wonderful.

Slowly snaking your arms around his middle, you felt your chest press against his back and you caught the way he inhaled slowly and tried not to wonder what it meant. It felt so good to hold him that you had to remind yourself it wasn’t a hug. It was to keep you in place while a gorgeous stranger drove you home on his equally gorgeous bike. With a final thumbs-up to check you were happy, to which you replied with a nod of your head and tried not to clack your helmet against his, he pulled away and your heart leapt for the sheer joy of it.

Where the R1 was built for sleek speed and bursts of power, the Bonneville was build to be enjoyed, and oh gosh, did you enjoy every curve.

And not just the curves in the road, either.

Oats was soft, but he was solid, and the urge to rest one hand on his thick thigh was almost overwhelming, until he took the corners at just the right pace to be exhilarating without you having to worry about your safety, and you clung on instead and laughed behind the safety of your visor.

It was all over way too soon, and as the Bonneville chugged into your road like a steam train and halted outside your poky, terraced house with its quaint little kitchen garden out the front in the postage-stamp of space between the pavement and the house, your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. Please don’t let this be it, you thought desperately.

You went through the motions of getting carefully off the bike without staggering or falling, and again, Oats held out his hand to help steady you. You gripped his fingers gratefully and when you gave an extra little squeeze to his hand at the end, you could have sworn he answered with one of his own and a throaty chuckle.

He dismounted too, which surprised you, and you wondered if you were going to have to ask him inside. As much as you wanted that in principle, you desperately didn’t want it to happen today because the house was a mess: laundry was still hanging up all over the place, and you’d cooked a curry the previous night and it was definitely still lingering in the air.

Oats took off his helmet but left his bike idling, which went a little way to reassuring you, and when you looked more closely at his expression, you thought you saw a hint of something familiar lingering in the corners of his eyes. Was he nervous?

Swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing behind the thick, 5 o’clock shadow that looked like it lingered pretty constantly no matter the time of day, Oats took a deep breath, held it, and then smiled at you. “Fuck,” he exhaled, and laughed. “I’m… very rusty at all this.” He held his helmet in both hands before him, toying with the strap.

“If I gave you my number, would you maybe like to meet up again?” you asked, taking pity on the man.

“Very much,” he said softly. “Like I said, Natalie is with her mum for the holidays, and apart from a wedding I’m covering next week, this is a pretty slow time of year for me. I’m free… mostly whenever.”

The reminder that he had a daughter with someone else did make you wonder what you were letting yourself in for. Children weren’t really something you had any expense of, since neither you nor your brother had shown any parental inclinations yet, and you weren’t particularly close to your cousins who had small kids.

“Ok, let me give you my number and we can figure something out.”

That done, he slid his phone back into his pocket and zipped it up, biting gently at his lower lip for a moment. “I know it’s bold,” he said, “But may I kiss you?”

Your heart skipped and soared. Breathless, you looked up at him and whispered, “Yes.”

His tiny, gentle, lopsided smile heralded the kiss’ approach, and he took your jaw delicately in one, leather-gloved hand as he leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. They were soft but insistent against yours, and you answered with a little moan as your eyes fluttered shut.

He groaned, pulling you closer with a low growl so that you were pressed flush against him for a moment before he stepped back and exhaled roughly. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Thank you. I’ll… I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded, feeling like you were floating inches above the ground.

You watched him re-mount his bike and adjust himself a little once he was settled, then he revved it playfully for you, and rode away after a final look back at you. He flipped his visor down as he pulled away, and you watched the bike and its rider disappear down the road.

‘Soon’ couldn’t come soon enough… 

__

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[ouiouimochi]

Imagine he discovers you write about him

pairing/s : soshiro hoshina x reader

genre: romance, secret adoration until it wasn't, mutual pining, a little crack

wc: approx 3k

warning: VERY long imagine/drabble (got carried away pls this has been in drafts and been written on for weeks ), swearing, suggestive content, unedited and grammatical mistakes, uhmn interchanged usage hoshina and soshiro

✧๑❥๑✧๑❥๑✧๑❥๑✧๑❥๑✧๑❥๑✧๑❥๑✧๑❥๑✧๑

just imagine— IMAGINE you were the average tumblr hoshina writer (ahem ahem) but working under operations manager okonogi as her assistant.

imagine hoshina discovering Tumblr and searching members of the defense force. he gets curious and searches himself. he discovers fancams and amusing edits of himself. he also finds it entertaining with how feral his fans are.

then he randomly stumbles upon the soshiro hoshina x reader tag and curiously taps on it. the first thing that greeted him was a story written by you— but he didn't know it was even you. he reads in interest actually, finding that it resonated as to how he would've acted— like the writer understood what he was like. he also liked how well-structured the story was, being a fan of reading himself.

before he knows it, he finishes the story. he goes to the comment section and sees fans wildly saying their thoughts. some even arguing that he was ooc in the story.

with plenty of time to spare, he scrolls through the tag and finds plenty of other stories, even coming across multiple ones made by you. he notices how he related most to the fictional him in your stories than in other ones.

so he goes to your blog, finding that you had published a lot of stories about him, and reblogged multiple posts about him as well.

so with all the time he had to burn, he reads through each and every one. (yes even the mature ones lmao-). he actually flushes and gets embarrassed at how this writer was capable of grasping his character and also flustering him with the descriptively beautiful words they describe him with— like damn they're so creative and even poetic sometimes. heck, he found some references to other works of literature he'd read already. it was also scary with how accurate this writer was able to depict him when he read all of their posts.

he concluded the writer to be quite knowledgeable in the arts of literature, psychology, technology, weaponry, and combat with how it reflected well into the paragraphs. he theorizes that maybe that person was just a diehard fan, a staff member that leaked info(quite a problem when he thought about it), or an actual member of the defense force. he waves it off for now, noticing that he read everything in the blog during the entire night.

so he awaits their next post, and it arrives. he immediately removes the theory of the writer just being a diehard fan. his eyes would scan the work again and again, finding similarities and a parallelism to what happened a few days ago in the base. he gets very interested in hunting down this person now. but nonetheless he enjoys this unknown writer's works.

the second time around, he got alarmed at how the next fic was VERY accurate despite being hidden behind flowery words and phrases. he NEEDED to hunt down who this was. admittedly, you got too carried away with your recent work— so you put in some red herrings here and there to deter suspicions since you were too lazy to actually edit now. but chile, hoshina saw through that and wholly believes the writer is someone in the defense force— in the third division.

so at the operations room, doing normal monitoring— it was quite a slow day indeed. hoshina thinks deeply to himself. you, being the sweet and observant person you are, noticed how he'd been donning a serious expression as of recently. okonogi asks what got him thinking deep, and you pay attention.

"do you know Tumblr?" you freeze, but it went unnoticed.

okonogi would say she's heard of it but doesn't have an account with how busy she already was. she'd ask what about it.

"got curious and searched how people viewed people of the force before searching my name" —he remembers all the narumi love and slander and mentally chuckles before getting back to topic.

you were crossing your fingers, hoping he didn't come across a certain... tag— knowing well some of your works gained popularity and had a high chance of being the first thing that popped up when you searched the tag .

"... and I must say I found some... interestin' things..." you start sweating a bit, stomach twisting, feeling your heart drop. 'f u c k'

okonogi notices and asked if you were okay. you smiled a bit wobbly— obviously straining. you were stiff and unconsciously gripping the desk.

"... my stomach hurts, ma'am..." you'd manage to lie through your teeth, convincingly enough too— you weren't exactly lying since your stomach felt like a bowling ball had sunken into it.

"ya should have it checked out" hoshina says, a bit concerned since you were quite the sweet person. he didn't wanna see you suffering.

"yes sir, thank you." you quickly bow and leave the room, completely sweating bullets.

'i shouldn't have gotten too carried away, s h i t' you knew very well how sharp your vice captain was — having observed him beside okonogi. basically a vip seat to witness all of his glory.

you thought about how you should really lay low for a while. you head to the medbay to not further raise suspicions. you've been careful all these years with how much information you added into your stories, derailing some details to not allow speculations about your identity.

hoshina awaits for an update but there was none, so he resorts to rereading your works. that was how he was able to actually confirm that the writer was someone from the force. his mannerisms at work— the way he sometimes speaks in a Kansai dialect or how he calls his subordinates with endearments like dear or lil fledglings. even though those were no secret, it was an unusual knowledge for just a fan to know.

so narrows it down to someone knowing about the ins and outs of the defense force. he crossed out the possibility of those people in his platoons. so he narrowed it down to someone in the operations room— his mind immediately thought of you but he dismisses it since he can't imagine it being you.

'it can't be her'

you're treading on hella thin ice LMAO

now you're in the library, finishing up some reports. you were exhausted and got careless in believing that it was okay for you to scroll through your some of your socials.

so you opened THE tumblr acc(tbf it was ur only one)— mindlessly scrolling, liking, commenting, and reblogging. you disregarded your overloaded notif bell… also completely disregarding the fact that someone can sneak up on you

‘its way too late into the night anyways’

“oh ya’ got tumblr too, m’dear?”

his eyes quickly scanned your screen where you had a post of mina posing for an advertisement— hearted and reblogged. his eyes then get magnetized to the distracting notif bell that had 99+ pings. then it trailed to your profile picture— the whole world stops. (actually dunno how desktop tumblr looks like oop)

you were too slow to react as you watched the gears turned in his head just from a quick glance on the screen.

there are multiple ways this can go to... : the fleshed out, fanfic route… or the… nsfw route lmao

Long route

you hurriedly closed your laptop and excused yourself before bolting away to lock yourself up in your room. you screamed into a pillow, overthinking. you tried to convince yourself that he definitely doesn't know— no way he does. however, the negative thoughts consume you that you ended up crying.

you absolutely done fucked up

you filed for a sick leave the next day, okonogi approving but having a slight suspicion that something was wrong. even though it was normal for you to do so after an all-nighter of finishing reports.

you were just in your room sulking. ashamed to face the world. too ashamed to face hoshina.

you were not prepared to be punished in the not so kinky way.

on the other hand, hoshina was also in denial. there was no way someone as sweet, demure, and mindful as you would write things so....

he gets flustered at the thought. he really did enjoy your writing— but GOD, how was he supposed to react now that he learned that YOU wrote him in that way.

he wonders if you saw him the way you wrote him— the words you described him with, the words you portrayed him as... the way the "reader" feels in your works.

but the more he denied and wondered, the more his rational thoughts pushed itself through his mind. making sense of all the content you wrote so far— the parallels, the facts, the knowledge, and each detail— they all made sense. it also figures how he was able to relate to the fictional him. he felt more shy than violated— the way you wrote him, the way you took time to understand his whole character... made him feel so seen.

so hoshina goes to the operations room to hopefully talk to you. he asked okonogi of your whereabouts to which she answered that you took a sick leave . her suspicions raising that you taking a break had something to do with their vice captain.

so he goes to your room and knocks on it(can branch out further into fluff or nsfw routes— I'll stick with fluff for now)

he waits a while but he eventually hears shuffling from the other end of the door. he gets greeted with the sight of you wrapped in a blanket like a burrito with bloodshot eyes.

he's unsure if you cried or were actually sick or something... he has suspicions that it was the former but who was to say that it wasn't both (fun fact when one's feeling depressi mode, their immune system also gets brought down, making them more susceptible to illness).

you don't recognize him at first since you had your eyes squinted from the light. but you immediately knew it was him due to his easily distinguishable silhouette even if your eyes barely adjusted to the harsh light.

you gasp and immediately go to close the door. he quickly stops it, quite easily too. but you stay stubborn and put your whole weight onto the door, pleading for him to leave you alone.

"we need to talk"

your illness riddled brain immediately dreads that you're definitely gonna get fired— so you responded by pushing your door even more vigorously with a "no!"

soshiro would relent and let you close the door on him as you leaned on the other side, heaving. another knock on the door as he calls your name.

a bit of silence before a response from you.

"what?"

"'yer not in trouble"

silence passes again before the door clicks, slowly opening. you stare up at him like a puppy

"really?" you hopefully asked

his heart jumps and twinges. it m e l t s at the sight of you.

"yes, dearest"

although you've never noticed, he had always been calling you by a pet name different from the rest.

you let him in your room, trudging over your bed to entrust him in closing the door behind him. you were convinced to do so because of the rather soft expression he was directing at you— heck you were sure you were one of the few to notice his changes in expression. maybe that's one of the reasons why you were able to write him so scarily accurate.

you sat yourself on your bed as soshiro follows by seating himself beside you.

"I'm sick...." you try to convince him to sit on a chair but he doesn't move. you look away, feeling awkward as you start fiddling with your blanket

he was considerate enough to start the conversation at least. he calls you by name and endearment, causing you to flush. you thought how unfair it was that it has so much of an effect on you than you'd rather admit. but it also calmed you down

just as he was about to speak, you interrupted him with apologies, strings of words whizzed past explaining how it even happened... with apologies woven in-between sentences .

"...I understand you're mad—" he interrupted you this time

"'m not" that shuts you up

it was his turn to be embarrassed , hearing about it on your side— directly from you. he's also reminded of how he likes your stories.

"I like them... your stories" he starts

"they leave me not with feelings of being objectified... but rather flattery with the amount of adoration in your work..." he admits

"it was so scarily accurate that it made it easy for me to relate to the 'other' me"

silence, you think how that must've been creepy behavior on your part.

soshiro had a question to ask but hesitated when he saw how you looked at him like he wasn't real. as if your fictional character just popped out of your screen.

you were doing things to his heart

he asked if the way you wrote him was how you actually viewed him. not influenced by your readers.

just you and your thoughts alone.

"yes" of fucking course it was

it might've been the sickness getting to you, causing you to be honest. but God. you praised him, adored him, admired him— all of the sort

unabashedly telling those things straight to his face causing him to feel hot in the face.

"...but I knew how I had no chance with you, that's why I resorted to writing it all out— letting my imagination run wild just to satiate my feelings for you"

he gapes

"you like me?"

you widen your eyes, realizing you basically confessed to him. you completely flush and turn your head away from him after a stare down.

he laughs.

what the fuck

you flush redder thinking he was laughing at you and your feelings but you can't help but think your writing couldn't do his laugh justice— it was just... just so nice(?)

you simp— you actually crumpled at his laugh as he stops himself. he gently turns your body to face him, his hands settling on where your shoulders were under the blanket

you were actually pouting for some reason (you were slightly hurt he laughed at you, but u misunderstood)

as if you can't get any cuter in his eyes. his gaze locks itself with yours.

"'yer so adorable, (y/n)"

he explained how his heart feels so light when around you. that his heart constricts at your innocent gaze— really makes him wanna protect you and shield you away from anything.

even from a fortitude 10 kaiju if it so happens.

sure he was friendly around a lot of people, but he gets inexplicably softer in his treatment with you. he may call others dear and such, but he also calls you differently if you haven't noticed.

he admits how discovering you were the author of the fics he liked reading made him want to protect you even more. how he wanted to stop you from running away from that night he discovered and regretted not doing so.

a tear fell before becoming streams dripping down your cheeks.

soshiro hugged you, caressed your head and hair so carefully.

heck you didn't even know why you were crying— but to be fair you were physically and emotionally vulnerable due to your sickness.

hearing him say all these sweet things gave you relief, the floodgates basically opening on their own.

and here you are now, crying in soshiro's embrace as if it was a dream. as how you have always fantasized to be held by him.

"I like you too, dearest"

and so you laugh at yourself for the predicaments you've placed yourself in— you could've avoided it if you had the courage to say it straight to his face. you would've wanted to avoid the embarrassment brought by him discovering you were writing about him.

but ig this is fine too, you liked this. so you hugged him back so tight as if he'd disappear like smoke.

as if he wasn't real, as if this wasn't real.

you were glad when your worst thought did not come true as hoshina gently held your face in both of his hands while staring so lovingly in your eyes.

the end for fluff route

WARNING: suggestive content, you've been warned don't come after my ass

now for the nsfw route

I actually need to separate that (if I ever even write it lmao)

I cannot write smut to save my life... but butttt

nsfw route 1 where he managed to corner you before you got away the night of the discovery.

basically just like "oh? so ya' ve been imagining me doing all those things to ya? how bout a taste of the real thing~"

nsfw route 2 is sometime after you two start dating. he basically takes inspiration in how you wrote his smuts— with consent ofc, didn't want to hurt you. he's overall sweet about it but teases you if the real thing was better than you'd imagine.

if someone can take over the smut/nsfw part, pls PLEASE I give permission to continue on with the prompt. I'm looking at ahem ahem @justwinginglife, but ik how busy she is currently— absolutely no pressure. anyone's free to take over ^^

[keystonepublishing]

Under The Brine by bonesandthebees

Wow, it's really been nearly two months since I posted! Besides the usual life stuff, I also took the plunge and bought Affinity Publisher just so I could control the typeset to a greater finesse than clunky Microsoft Word. And this is my first result of that!

This fic, Under The Brine by @bonesandthebees is one of my favorite Crimeboys fics, and I had so many ideas to try out to visualize the situations and vibes of the plot. As you will see, the result was a mix of established layouts and new experimentation. The cover itself is made using Affinity, printed onto paper to give a papery feel on the hands!

The chapter pages are designed with voluminous double-spread images because I wanted the reader to "fall in" to the story. I want to bring the feel of unnatural uncertainty, fear, and dread into a visual form; if a picture tells a thousand words, the right one can convey the mood of an entire arc. Having the opening paragraphs shifted to the side accentuates the visual feel.

As per usual, I have my layouts for pre-fic notes along with an appendix section for end notes and author comments to curious readers (albeit this time on Tumblr). But I also diverged by adding a playlist, curated by the author for this fic, along with a Spotify code if typing the song names onto YouTube is too much.

With Affinity, I also took the time to lay out the fic's dream sequences. I wanted a complete opposite to a normal page to convey the act of dreaming, and so made the pages all-black. However, the volume of needed black ink did confuse my printer and created a number of paper jams, so I don't think this style is going to be used much.

Additionally, I formatted the phone-text-messaging part of the fic so it actually looks like a text message convo! This was one of the most fiddly parts of typesetting as I had to balance not only the text messages, but the error alert symbol and words as well.

And lastly, I experimented with putting last paragraphs and the ending image together, instead of putting them onto separate pages as per my other binds. I do this because I wanted to visualize the moody feel of the ending... and because I was running out of paper and wanted to save pages.

Full thanks to @bonesandthebees for writing this fic!

[mrghostrat]

some tips for writing flow

i've had a lot of comments complimenting my writing style, most of which don't know how to explain or describe what they like about it. i never really knew either, but i've been paying more attention to the way i write things lately, in the hope of being able to understand and explain it.

a lot of this is "based on feel" with no hard and fast rules, but there's also very tangible techniques you can hopefully work into your own writing, if that makes sense? idk is this anything—

1 - sentence beats, and alternating them.

this is probably the biggest thing in my writing. i've realised my sentences can be measured in beats, based on their length and how many sections they can be broken into. the pattern changes often, and i don't have a concrete rule in how i fill a paragraph (again, i've only just put words to any of this), but it's probably the most important part of my flow. let's have a look:

1 beat: • this is probably the biggest thing in my writing.

2 beats: • i've realised my sentences can be measured in beats • based on their length and how many sections they can be broken into.

3 beats: • the pattern changes often • and i don't have a concrete rule in how i fill a paragraph • but it's probably the most important part of my flow.

it looks like a favour certain patterns, the only real "rule" i use is to construct a paragraph with various beats, and never put two side by side. whenever i'm struggling with my flow, it's usually because i've put two of the same beats next to each other and everything feels either stiff or crowded. i rarely put two side by side, unless it's for specific emphasis.

the other exception are paragraph breaks: these are a pause for breath, and allow us to reset the pattern. i often start and end my paragraphs with single beat sentences, and it doesn't feel like they're running on because there's that lovely breath between them.

2 - short paragraphs

the rule we learn in school is that new paragraphs are for new ideas. convert this to prose, and we can consider "ideas" to include the character's thoughts, new narrative tangents, and physical movement around a scene.

one of my biggest struggles reading "bad" fanfic is when paragraphs are too lumped together. crowley will walk into the bookshop, see aziraphale across the way, wander over to a shelf, select a book, then pour himself a drink all in one big chunk. i can't parse that. there doesn't have to be a new line break for every new action, but grouping the relevant ones together and breaking in between broad motions (i.e. walking across a room, acknowledging a character) can help ease readers through the scene.

paragraphs are a breath, not only for sentence flow, but for processing the action within a story. similarly, purposefully keeping multiple actions confined to a single paragraph can make them feel quicker, while breaking them up into multiple paragraphs will slow down the pacing (even if the amount of detail describing each action is the same). included some examples because i'm struggling to explain this one

3 - mixing metaphors

this might sound less flow related, but i used to struggle with it a lot as a young writer, and paying more attention to it has definitely helped clean up my flow and writing overall.

i love a good analogy, but it can be easy to get carried away, and this can bog down the prose. my personal rule is that i can get silly with my metaphors (see: the mon chéri magnet), but i can only use one at a time. no talking about the magnet in aziraphale's chest and the angel and demon on his shoulder within the same scene.

if i'm getting silly and long winded with a metaphor, i also try to limit the length of it to one or two paragraphs. paragraph 1: set up the metaphor, establish the analogy. paragraph 2: come back to the reality of the scene, then mention the metaphor once more to link it all together. if i'm feeling cheeky, then i mention the metaphor again ONCE in passing, a couple of paragraphs or even chapters later

the magnet was a fun one, because i kind of flipped how i would usually present a metaphor, with the long winded tangent coming last instead of being the set up. and even though i used the metaphor 3 times, it felt like 2 because the set up was really just a planted seed for what i'd be mentioning later in the theatre. referencing the "whispered curse in the dark" also helped tie the scenes together and keep the analogies neat and tidy in our heads

meanwhile i got a little more carried away with the space metaphor in postcards (i feel like there's probably a 4th and maybe even 5th mention during the bookshop scene), but each one was blink-and-you'll-miss-it brief that didn't slog down the prose.

4 - avoiding repetitive pronouns

we're all going to struggle with this, and i don't have a secret hack for avoiding a wall of "he this, he that, he then," and i honestly try not to beat myself up over it too much. but there are two things i check to make sure it's not getting too repetitive:

1. looking within a paragraph

apparently everything revolves around paragraphs and the breath between them lmao. i don't have a strict rule like "use the character's name once per paragraph, then 'he' for the rest" or anything like that, but it's in that kind of vein. i simply pay attention to one paragraph at a time to watch for too much repetition, and if i notice it's been one or two whole blocks without switching from 'he' to a name, i'll chuck one in to break it up.

2. paragraph starters

this is so picky. and i don't know if it does ANYTHING, but it bugs me when i'm writing and i notice every paragraph starts the same way. maybe it has no effect on the flow at all. but i like to make sure my paragraphs aren't starting with the same "he" "he" "he", and that forces me to go back and switch around the pronouns in recent sentences, so the next paragraph can flow on more smoothly.

5 - use interruptions appropriately

edit: sneaking this one in here as a final thought! i just want to mention the use of em-dashes, semicolons, footnotes, and parenthesis mid-sentence. it's common to favour one in particular, but each have spectacular uses and can add miles to the pacing and flow of your prose.

em-dash (—) interruptions, cutting off dialogue— pausing to make a point — like this — in the middle of a sentence.

semicolon (;) helps with making lists and continuing a compound sentence that doesn't really link with 'and' or 'but'; when you want to pause, but a new sentence would break the flow of things.

footnotes (¹) these should be optional additions to the text imo. you should be able to keep reading without looking at the footnotes and not lose an ounce of story. they're additive, not necessary.

parenthesis ( () ) a great way to interrupt yourself (less sharply) than with em-dashes, include longer pieces of information (like what you might put in a footnote, except more crucial to the narrative that you don't want people to miss!) and adding sass (lol) and tone to your prose.

[iamnmbr3]

There's so much drarry content to comment on in this passage I hardly even know where to start.

1) Harry's animosity is all for Snape. The only time we really see him feel true anger towards Draco is at the end of 4th year. Otherwise he's rarely deeply angry at him. It would certainly be unsurprising if Harry blamed Draco for what happened, even if Snape struck the killing blow. But he doesn't. Quite the opposites in fact. He feels sympathy for Draco's plight and actively worries about him. Because he knows Draco so well that he can see right through him to the kind of person he really is - not a willing acolyte of Voldemort. And because Harry is drawn to and cares about Draco a lot more than his is willing to acknowledge, even to himself...

2) The thing Harry picks that he still blames Draco for is...his infatuation with the Dark Arts. Not his role in Dumbledore's death. Not anything he's ever done to Harry. Harry's nice but he's not usually THIS forgiving. Certainly not with people he doesn't care about or dislikes... And for all that Harry claims to dislike Draco he spends an awful lot of time worrying about him. Both here and in later passages as well as in book 7. In this section of book 6 he also claims Crabbe and Goyle look "lonely" without Draco but given the interactions we see between them in book 7 it's pretty unlikely they miss him so if anyone misses Draco and feels like his presence is something that has always been part of his life and that it's strange with out him...it's probably Harry.

3) It's also notable that even though Draco only had the chance to lower his wand a little bit Harry is utterly sure he wouldn't have killed Dumbledore. And instead of thinking about how Draco missed his chance to come back to the Light and now will fall deeper into the Dark, he worries about what Voldemort is "making" him do. Thus accepting that any further acts Draco carries out on Voldemort's behalf are against his will. He really understands Draco. And cares about his welfare. A lot more than an enemy or casual acquaintance would.

4) As an aside, it's also pretty hilarious that Harry's like 'Draco Malfoy? No I haven't thought about him much' *proceeds to spend an entire paragraph thinking about him and worrying if he's ok and then brings him up again a few paragraphs later*

[sugarcoatedcherry]

void state progress and success!!!

I'm updating every day privately (now public) hehe

(scroll down and read pink highlighted paragraph for success story I had started attempting void much earlier than this)

day 1: tried but eventually fell asleep

day 2. did an extensive reasearch, like all day, read ton of success stories, got insane inspiration. believed void was real and manifestations are instant. I tried and got into hypnagogic state. but fell asleep

day 3: re read all the success stories again and again whole day and became more confident, I made mental notes on common symptoms I'd have, affirmed little. all night I played subliminals, binaural beats etc but got tired and fell asleep

day 4: still motivated, angry but persisting, I am affirming, made more mental notes on how I should go about void, did more reasearch on Hinduism interpretation on void, read about void on reddit, YouTube, explore astral projection and sleep paralysis video's comment section (they had similar symptoms just like void) became even more confident with void, tried methods but eventually i got exhausted and fell asleep

day 5: MADE MY OWN RULES. YES, no notes or anything, it's my way baby, it'll go how I want it to go, when I want it go. no more sending asks to bloggers, no more doubting, no more worrying the process. Just believing it will happen. not worrying about the circumstances. I'm very confident that today IS THE DAY 💅

day 6: I couldn't enter, i slept lmao

day 7: I got to the vibrational stage but my thoughts were distractibg and I slept

day 8: I learnt about sleep paralysis and tried that

day 9: last night didn't work, but I'll persist

day 10: i just slept, void is messing with my sleep schedule

day 11: spend A LOT OF TIME researching about void in Hinduism and got a lot of confidence but didn't enter

day 12: AGAIN SPENT A LOT OF TIME RESEARCHING about void in Hinduism but didn't make it

day 13: I'm getting closer to something very important and I need to enter void on a time crunch. I cried

day 14: everything is exhausting, but I still tried entering void but rolled over anf slept

day 15: i drank coffee to stay awake and I'm doing the meditation sitting up so that I don't roll over and fall asleep

(UGHHHHHHHHHH GOD )

day 16: I found a subliminal that made my body vibrate within first 2 minutes of listening?? and I looped it overnight but fell asleep sometime while listening but I'm still hopeful.

day 17: stupid exams

day 18: studied for my next stupid exams

day 19: I am so tired I didn't attempt I wanted to sleep peacefully

day 20: Literally my entire life is on hold because I am trying to get into void, I do realise this is unhealthy but at the same time I am so much confident that I can do it? I don't know how to explain this confidence but I know I will enter the void.

day 21: more exams and didn't attempt

day 22:

I DID IT GUYS I DID IT OMGGG THIS FEELS SO GOOD OH GOD JDKEODJDJDN I LOVE THIS FOR ME I FEEL UNSTOPPABLE I CHANGED MY ENTIRE LIFE THIS IS SO BIG TO ME Y'ALL DON'T HAVE A CLUE AHHHHH. I'M GONNA CRY. I HAVE EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED JSBSJDKDODKSNSN

quick thanks to all loass bloggers on Tumblr and Sammy Ingram (she shitted about void but it's okay lmao is her limiting belief but I'm thanking her for introducing the law to me) my fav bloggers are @rosellesworkshop @fleurlx @blushydior @stargirl-kira @multiversebaddie @zen-shu @prettymindset111 @luvforend @sa777urn @aphroditeapprenticee @gorgeouslypink @littlemissprettyprincess @sirensplayhouse thanks for answering my asks.

ANDDD all the anons who posted void success stories and thanks to @voidsuccess for compiling them!!! (i used to obsessively surf her blog day and night until day 10 lmaoo)

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

I'm not gonna lie, it doesn't really make a lot of sense to me when people say that Eden being the culprit doesn't make sense from a narrative/story perspective, or that they "don't see her killing someone" I mean to-each-their-own obviously, but like, at the same time...the entire theme of this chapter is that not everything is as it seems. Your preconceived notions of the people around you based on the parts of themself they present to you are bound to be contradicted by an action they take, or a side of themselves that's kept hidden away. This theme was set up in the first episode of Chapter 2 with J's secret, which I elaborate more on in this post, where she is revealed to have a completely different identity that nobody in the cast was aware of, and that identity of hers is met with spectacle and admiration when J's life is really nothing to admire. Another thing that sets up this narrative is also just the secrets motive in general. From a meta standpoint, I think the secrets motive is meant to challenge us the audience and the preconceived notions we have about these characters, what we believe they are capable of doing to others, to themselves, and in general who they are as people. I remember back when the episodes were still being released seeing paragraphs of defenses in comment sections in regards to David, how he wasn't a manipulator because of this that and the third, how he was only trying to help and that he couldn't had been malicious in his intention. And I can attest to that, because I was one of those people lmao. And as we know now, David did end up being the one with the manipulator secret and showing a much more ugly side of himself that many didn't take kindly to, because it contradicted what we knew about who he was, or more accurately, what we wanted to believe he was. And I use David as an example here, because this pattern can be seen with multiple characters throughout the chapter. Arei, who up until this point had been portrayed as nothing more than a mean, merciless bully, had her past and true-feelings spilled out on full display, leading to her allowing herself the chance to become a better person. This is almost the exact opposite of what happened to Nico, who was portrayed as a timid, defenseless individual constantly catching the brunt of Ace's assault, only to show that they are a much more nefarious person than you would first assume, more than willing to tie a wire around Ace's neck if pushed to their boiling point. And the funny thing about these two examples is that even after these sides of their characters were revealed to us, people still allowed their established notions of the characters to overrule it. People theorized that Arei was lying, or just putting on another manipulative show again. People theorized that actually Nico was just trying to take the wire off of Ace's neck, that Ace actually killed himself and was just pinning it on Nico, or that Hu was somehow responsible and that she was manipulating Nico into doing it, or was just straight-up the one who tried to kill Ace. And there's nothing wrong with any of these theories in the moment, even though I'd say with present information that all of them have been de-confirmed. The reason I'm mentioning them is that it goes to show that if you have a certain view of a character that you have become attached to, and something comes along and contradicts that view, your brain searches for ways to justify the previous view you had. Even in the case of Arei and Nico where, to be fair, the previous perspective wasn't entirely wrong, people still feel strange when they see something that contradicts it.

All of this brings us to David, who as I mentioned previously, was continuously defended in the weeks before CH2-11 dropped because people didn't want to believe he was as manipulative as a lot of the fandom made him out to be. And then CH2-11 actually dropped, and possibly the most unsavory side of David was revealed to us in full display. And despite the fact that the legitimacy of how much of David's true colors is being shown is still a big question mark to this day, and the fact that this side of himself gets approximately seventeen minutes of screen-time, a lot of people were incredibly quick, and I mean quick, to immediately dismiss it as bad writing. Instead of actually thinking for a moment about why this writing decision would be made, they wrote off David as a one-dimensional bad guy to the point of even calling him a cartoon villain. It's hard to believe now considering how much effort the community has put into the past year to dissect every aspect of this blueberry-haired motherfucker, but there were people who were genuinely pissed when CH2-11 dropped. "Hey, this is all well and good but uh...I thought this post was about Eden? Why are you bringing up all these other characters?" Well I'm glad you asked, voice that I made up in my head to transition cleanly to my next point. The thing that all three of these characters, Arei Nico and David have in common, is that they all serve to challenge what we know about these characters and introduce a side of them that goes against our current knowledge, and it's up to us as an audience to either accept this as part of who they are as a person, or deny it in favor of the narrative we've grown comfortable with. And I really do think that is an intentional part of the story being told within Chapter 2, especially when characters like Hu also exemplify these tendencies in how she defends David and tries to see the good within him, deflecting away from the uncomfortable truth that he is not all he presents himself to be. All that glitters is not gold, not everyone is as they appear to be. Which brings us, finally, to Eden Tobisa. And how a lot of the arguments against the theory that she is the one who killed Arei greatly confuse me, and why I think a lot of it falls along this line of thinking.

I see quite a few people implying that the idea of Eden being the CH2 culprit is inherently, as a concept, bad writing, how it doesn't fit with her character, and other things along those lines. It's actually very similar arguments that I saw used to deny the idea that David was manipulative. But I do not see this to be the case. In fact, I think out of everyone currently alive in the cast, Eden being the culprit is what would fit the best with the narrative and story that has been established. This chapter, as I've mentioned previously, has challenged our perspectives of these characters and what we know about them, emphasizing that what we see of them might not be the full-picture of who they are as people. So quite frankly, why wouldn't the culprit be the most positive, seemingly hopeful girl in the entire killing game cracking under it's pressure and resorting to murder? An aspect of Eden's character that I think goes overlooked quite often is that, though she is not by any means naive and her optimism is genuine, her positivity can definitely seep into toxic positivity on more than one occasion. Specifically when applying it towards herself.

(x) Teruko: You seem quite chipper this morning, even though you were distraught last night. Eden: ...Yeah, I know. I'm really sorry about yesterday. Eden: I was in a new, scary situation, and I let myself get too upset. But that was a mistake, I'm not going to let myself be weak like that anymore. Eden: I'll do my best to encourage everyone from now on!

(x) Levi: I suppose I could say the same for you, can't I? Today you're just as cheerful as you've ever been. Eden: I'm glad you think so. I'm wearing my brave face, see? Eden: Everyone is probably going to be sad for a while. For their sake, and for mine, I'll put on a happy smile!

(x) Eden: [Sniff] Whit: There, there. Pat pat. Do you want to sit down somewhere else? Eden: ....... Eden: I'm fine! I just... needed a second to deal with it. Eden: I'm super ready to investigate! I'll do whatever I can to help find Arei's killer.

I want you to pay attention to the third scene I linked especially, because I think it re-contextualizes the other two scenes mentioned. I hope this does not need to be spoonfed, but just to be clear: I am not at all saying that Eden's positivity is fake or fabricated, I think her optimism is a very real aspect of her. That being said, despite her believing that the best way to make it through this killing game is to express grief and rely on others and how she does acknowledge the severity of the situation on multiple occasions, she has never really allowed herself to grieve her current situation. She refers to her very reasonable response to the death game as a weakness, and she outright admits to Levi that she is putting on a brave face for herself and the others. And in the third clip, it's not even being hidden from the audience anymore, especially with how the line is voiced. It's like Eden's VA was specifically instructed to sound as if she were forcing a smile. What this all means, to me anyway, is that there is a lot of stress, fear, and sadness bubbling under Eden's skin that she's purposefully keeping hidden, for herself but especially for the others. That doesn't mean she is good at it, mind you, as Eden at the end of the day is still someone who's feelings are practically sewn into her sleeve, but she is trying. And it's clear it is having an impact on her. Couple that with the fact that Eden very clearly wants to escape really fucking badly, if her constant attempts to find a solution to end the killing game are anything to go by. Especially in Chapter 2. (credit to @/venus-is-thinking for pointing this out in their post)

(x) Eden: So uh... I've been spending a lot of time investigating around, looking for a potential exit

(x) Veronika: You know, Eden once thought of an interesting plan to end the killing game. Based on everything we know, it could theoretically work.

(x) Hu: Eden and I have a continuous alibi from 7 PM to 10 PM. It has become a bit of a tradition for the two of us to clean up after dinner together Hu: And after we were done, we talked for quite some time, brainstorming ways to deal with the motive.

Eden has been more obsessed than anyone else over the prospect of ending, dealing with, or escaping the death game. (just as a side note cause it goes outside the scope of this post, this is also why it doesn't make sense when I see people say that Eden doesn't have a motive to kill, because...she does? Fuck if anything she is probably the person who currently wants to escape this death game the most. I understand if that doesn't sound like a satisfying motive to you, but she does have a motive.) Also couple all of this with the constant arguing of the rest of the cast, and her literally witnessing Nico try to kill Ace in front of her eyes, all the while she is trying to put on a positive smile for everyone else and herself. I really do not see why it is so unbelievable that she would break and try to commit murder. And really, I do think it's primarily because of how the fandom as a whole views Eden, which is why I spent a large majority of this post talking about the themes of Chapter 2 and how they interact with how the audience sees the characters. Another theme that has been explored in this chapter is the idea of a Good Person. Specifically, what makes someone a good person, and the desire to become one. And how is this theme introduced into the chapter?

(x) Levi: Perhaps I messed up yesterday. But I want to move on. I want to keep trying to be a 'good person,' like you, Eden.

Through the existence of Eden. With every other character in the DRDT cast, there is at least one attribute about them or action they take, that would reasonably warrant them being disliked, or seen as not the best person. Even other characters serve a similar role in the narrative, like Whit and Hu, have things about them that could result in this opinion. Like Whit's insensitivity and uncaring behavior towards the dead, and Hu using other people to make herself feel useful. But Eden is viewed, both within the story and outside it, as an undeniable good person. There's a reason why you basically never see a genuine Eden hater in a wild because...well, what is there to dislike her for? She's kind, she's caring, she's helpful, and she tries her best for everyone around her. In the midst of a story where the characters are constantly being pushed to the brink and fucking up, Eden has done literally nothing wrong. She has been a victim of circumstance or other people victimizing her. And the one time she is antagonized in the story it's by a character who, up until a few minutes after, we have basically only seen as a mean bully. Eden has done nothing wrong. Eden is the picture-perfect presentation of a good person. But I think by the end of Chapter, as a climax to both of the themes that permeate it's narrative

That will no longer be the truth.

[chaithetics]

Sticky Notes and Explorations

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x fem (afab) reader (reader has vaginismus) Word count: 4.8K Dividers by @saradika-graphics Warning: 18+ MDNI, smut, Nathan being Nathan-ish lol? Reader has vaginismus some paragraphs about that and mentions of dilators and pelvic physio. There are no other physical descriptions of reader other than afab body parts. Run on sentences, sorry! A/N: This is my first time writing Nathan so bear with me and be kind please, he's making me unwell 😭 brain fog is still bad post-surgery so if it's extra bad I'm sorry! Most of this wasn't proof read... Sorry! Really started to hate it after 2K words and almost deleted it whoops. Thank you to @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction for letting me talk about the Nathan thoughts Comments and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged 🫶 Please validate me.

Nathan’s brow furrowed and his face shifted into a scowl as he noticed a pale orange sticky note on an empty section of the wall, it was excluded from his mural of notes. It caught his attention,

disgustingly so, just as you knew it would. Physio, back in the afternoon :) was scrawled out in bright pink ink in your handwriting, it was a nauseating combination, he already felt a headache coming on and it had nothing to do with the beer he’d drunk last night. He’d still start another detox today, may as well he thought. 

It perplexed him why you’d gone in the first place and not because he didn’t take your health seriously, he did of course, just in his own unique Nathan way. It was more that Nathan just couldn’t understand why you’d want to leave the compound, he could have any medical practitioner, the best of the best, flown out to his estate to treat you. No waiting rooms with randos or sick people, wait times, bad radio music and ads to uncomfortably sit through. He could have any practitioner flown out and starting treatment or an examination at the snap of his fingers. 

You’d told Nathan several times now that despite how much he loved staying in the isolated compound, it was nice to leave sometimes and well… see people. It wasn’t something he could see the appeal in and it would be another conversation you’d have when you come back. 

Nathan wouldn’t say it but he also felt moodier as you’d elusively left bed without him knowing and he didn’t get a kiss. Well, he did, technically. After seeing your note he sat at his desk and watched the security footage, you’d kissed his forehead before he left which sure, might’ve been a sweet thought but he didn’t count it as you hadn’t woken him up, a real goodbye would’ve been thoughtful he mutters to himself. But you both know, he would’ve grumbled into the pillow if you’d woken him up but he still liked those moments, Nathan was just a brat who liked to act moody no matter what. 

It’s sprawling acres of luscious greenery below on the helicopter flight back, it always is but it still never ceases to amaze you when you see it. Nathan’s estate was large, the compound was isolated into its own bubble which was annoying at times you couldn’t fault him for choosing somewhere so rich in greens and tall trees to hide away in. 

It’s quiet when you finally go inside, minus the usual programmed notes that fill the air. The glass maze of the compound is filled with natural light, it makes the space feel warmer. When you could imagine it would easily feel unwelcoming and cold to anyone else who could walk these floors. 

Nathan tilts his head as he rounds a corner to stand in front of you as you walk in. 

“How did you sleep?” You take your shoes off as you ask. 

“Fine enough.” He then pinches the bridge of her nose. “You didn’t wake me.” 

It’s a statement but it almost feels like a question, you look away from your shoes to look at him and see his big brown eyes that make you smile and almost a pout on his lips. You offer him a small smile and nod as you walk more into the scientific home. 

 “You know, I can get someone to come here and do the appointments right?” 

“Yes, I know.” You smile softly and let out a small sigh, it’s a conversation you have each week, his lack of awareness is borderline amusing. “But I like her, she’s great.” 

“I don’t know if you realise this…” He tilts his head and waves his hands sarcastically as if he’s going to reveal something life changing. “But I can pay her to come out here, there’s a functioning helicopter, you’re familiar with it.” 

“I don’t know if you realise this,” you chuckle at the bluntness of his words and try to speak with the exact same sarcastic tone as his. “But sometimes, it can be nice to leave the compound…” You bite your lip playfully as you take your coat off. 

“Well, now I know you’re sick, really sick and obviously misdiagnosed. You’re seeing the wrong experts.” There’s a tone of slight disgust in his voice, he speaks as if the idea of leaving his scientific oasis shrouded by greenery and water is the most insane and upsetting thing he’s ever heard. You roll your eyes and sit down on the sofa, putting your bag down. 

“What is that?” He points his finger and waves it as he looks at the box peeking out of your bag.  

“They’re uh, dilators.” You say as you look up at him while he stands by you. 

“Why did you buy them? I could’ve made them, let me look.” 

“Not you or anyone in your team is a pelvic physiotherapist or gynaecologist.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but they also don’t know your vagina like I do.” Nathan rolls his eyes and scoffs, he almost seems insulted, which shouldn’t surprise you but it does.

A dry chuckle escapes you at his words, they’re so crude and blunt. Your eyebrows raise as you look up at him, comfortably sinking more into the soft sofa as his large hands pick up your bag and pull out the box with the dilators in them. 

It was your third time having one of those appointments, but it was something you’d struggled with for many years. You didn’t even realise it was a ‘problem’ for so long. It was somewhat normalised to not even look at a tampon for a few years after your first period, so it wasn’t really something you immediately discovered. Your periods weren’t fun but who had fun periods, right? Only people in pad commercials. 

It took a few years, you were happy to ignore tampons during the first few menstruating years. But after that you opened that first box of tampons, studying the instructions and small educational illustrations on the folded up paper, you’d had no luck. It made you feel weird and gave you a sense of shame you couldn’t speak about so you didn’t. You spent years quietly using pads and almost feeling like you were missing out on something. 

In college, a period had come early and you asked your roommate if she had anything on her, she’d casually given you a tampon and you felt your abdomen become uncomfortable and your pelvic floor apprehensively tighten. You’d moved into that awkward position over the toilet that was supposed to relax you and make it easier but not to your surprise, you’d had no luck. It hurt and felt awful, your body had tensed up more and the more deep breaths you took, the more you seemed to clamp up. 

It wasn’t an issue with the tampon, something you’d tried to tell yourself for years. You felt ashamed and embarrassed in this, the first thought that entered your head was no, it’s something wrong with you. One that persisted for longer than you’d like to admit. 

“This silicone isn’t good enough,” Nathan’s words bring you back to the present and your eyebrows twitch at his words, his eyes are squinted as he reads the box and holds a dilator in his hand, of course he went for the biggest one. 

“But it’s the one with the physio recommended, it was the ‘higher-end’ option-” You say feeling confused and almost frustrated at what was either Nathan being Nathan or another failure of women’s healthcare. 

“Yeah, but your vagina deserves better than silicone that you buy from a doctor’s office-” 

“Physio-” “You just proved my point even more.” His voice drips with arrogance and you sigh leaning into the sofa even more, it might just swallow you in a minute which wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience. 

“You’re so romantic,” you tease and he nods. “Yeah, yeah I am.” He sits down on the sofa next to you, 

It all kind of surprises you honestly, it still does but he really surprised you at the start. Dating has always made you extremely anxious because vaginismus threw a big spanner in the works. When you were diagnosed after years of silent struggling and worrying, it wasn’t quite the relief you’d imagine a diagnosis would be. It made dating feel more stressful, that something needed to be disclosed and there wasn’t a large time window of appropriate timing. 

Even as an adult, it still felt like something that was difficult to talk about and with each date it had been a scary thing as it felt like it would be a dealbreaker for most people. You had assumed Nathan Bateman would be in that boat, the first impression he left definitely wasn’t a “That’s cool, we’ll take it slow!” vibe. He’d surprised you though, the stigma you’d felt about it for as long as you started to think of it was a problem just didn’t exist with him. 

When you didn’t believe his surprising response he’d reassured you it was an opportunity to explore other things if you wanted and he’d said he could look at a list of options for healthcare you’d never even heard of. Surprisingly there wasn’t any pressure, but you’d eventually made the choice to start with pelvic physiotherapy. That was still scary but it seemed like a good practical first step. A much better and realer step than taking deep breaths or drinking wine like you’d been told by some doctors before. 

Nathan tilts his head, you pinch his nose as you watch his face, like clockwork his nose screws up, scrunching his face. 

“That’s not as cute as you think it is.” He says tilting his head away. 

“Sure.” 

“I’m serious, I’m honestly surprised you haven’t stabbed me in the back thinking you’d get away with it because of your cute privilege.” He teases you, feigning complete seriousness. 

You chuckle and shake your head slightly. Nathan moves closer to press a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m going to do some work, don’t conspire against me. I’m not in the mood for AI or Caesar and Brutus role playing today, it’s not what my hardware’s going for today.” He says as he gets up, he gives your hand a slight squeeze, he rubs his forehead and leaves the room, casually exiting with “I’ll be good, I promise.” 

It’s later in the afternoon now, some sunlight is trickling through the gaps in the leaves and branches of the trees outside and it comes through with the open nature of the compound’s design. You’re sitting down listening to an audiobook with your headphones on tapping away at your keyboard as your eyes focus on the screen in front of you, missing Nathan’s entrance. 

He walks in, tapping your shoulder behind you, it startles you and you jump on the couch. You whip your head around to look over your shoulder and give him a glare before taking a deep breath and trying to lower your heart rate. 

The headphones are quickly pulled off of you and he places them down on the coffee table as he makes his way around the sofa to then stand in front of you. He’s holding something in his hand, it’s almost a pale blue, you have no idea what it is. 

“Ready for something cool?” He asks softly with a small smile. “Mmm?” You hum out, looking up at him as you close your laptop screen. 

“This,” he holds the blue thing in his hands in front of you, it has some loose straps at the bottom and it looks to have different ridges and textures on it. “What is it?” 

“Well the perverts call it a grinder, honey,” he says softly but his eyes are burning smugly as he starts to quirk his mouth up into a shit eating grin. 

You feel your eyes widen as you look up from the grinder to Nathan and your cheeks start to heat up. “You’re a pervert…” 

“Tomato, Tomato.” He shrugs. “But sure. I was thinking and looking over some stuff-”

“Yeah, but no matter what you say I still feel like you get your information from medical papers AND Reddit.” You interrupt. 

“Don’t put me down like that, especially when you’re interrupting me.” He pouts mockingly. “But look at it, no penetration, isn’t that fucking perfect?” 

You look at it and feel your cheeks heat up the longer you do. 

“When they say ‘he loved her to the point of invention’, I don’t think this is what they mean…” You shy;y whisper as you look at it, intentionally not meeting his eyes. It’s an odd shape and has different textures and ridges all over it. 

“I like that, that’s very… well, poetic.” He says almost thoughtfully as his beautiful brown eyes focus on you.  

“I didn’t say-” “I know it’s a quote from elsewhere.” He cuts you off smugly and sighs dramatically. He’s still proud of his intelligence and capabilities. He’s a god amongst men after all. 

“Let’s give it a go my little test bunny,” he tilts his head and teases. “That’s not funny.” You say as you finally look up at him and meet his eyes, they quickly become a little bit kinder and less smug. 

Nathan chuckles and sits down, he starts to tug at and adjust his sweatpants as he sits down. He carefully straps the grinder onto his thigh and then turns his attention to you. He smirks and raises his dark eyebrows. 

“Come on, saddle up cowgirl, your uh sexual chariot awaits.” He says smugly and pats his thigh. 

“What?” Your cheeks burn up even more at his words, if someone touched them now they’d think you have a fever. You physically feel your eyes widen in both shock and a feeling of embarrassment at his words. 

You’d grinded on him before, his strong thighs sure. It was something Nathan had no problem with, he loved it when you’d use his body like that for your pleasure. It was something he didn’t just love but also encouraged. It had also always been something much more comfortable and less painful than penetration. 

“It vibrates and we’ve had several conversations about vibrations helping to desensitise and I read-” 

“Did you read it on reddit?” You ask. 

“Don’t deflect.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Only I’m allowed that tactic here.” 

Nathan puts his thumb and index finger on your chin and tilts your face so you’re looking into his pretty puppy dog eyes. He can be annoying at times but they turn you into mush. “We don’t have to.” He whispers and rubs your chin gently. “And if we do… We can go as slow as you want, we can stop whenever you want, stop if it ever gets close to almost hurting or feeling uncomfortable. You’ll uh dictate, call the shots like a sexy little compound dictator.”

“You were saying something so unusually sweet and then that happened.” You chuckle softly. He still has his fingers on your chin, he tilts your head more and then brings his face closer and kisses you. 

Nathan’s lips are soft and pillowy, they perfectly meld against yours in a soft kiss that he slowly deepens. You place your hands on his shoulders as his tongue gently presses into your mouth, heat courses through his body as you open your mouth for him and he feels your tongue. 

His hand moves to the back of your neck, it’s warm and firm. He moans into your mouth and your cheeks heat up, you smile against his lips as you two continue to kiss. You feel Nathan's hands move to the waist of your dress, his fingers run over the soft fabric before they travel further down. 

You groan against his lips and breath in shakily as his fingers reach the hem of the fabric and his hands start to slowly push the material up to around your waist. Nathan gently manoeuvres you to straddle his thigh. 

“I want you to feel good…” He whispers in a low tone, he opens his eyes and blinks slowly, he looks at you and you feel butterflies squirm in your stomach at the look of his chocolate eyes half-lidded from pleasure and need. 

He slips a hand down between your legs and runs his thumb over your vulva, he watches your face before lightly running it through your folds. You let out a soft moan at that and then a louder one as his digit explores more of you externally. He’s watching your face and body as his fingers feel you become wet, you can’t help but let out a string of more moans as his fingers continue to light you up perfectly. Nathan’s in complete awe of how good you look and watching each microexpression to make sure it’s all pleasure and not a single look of pain. 

Blinking slowly, you nod as you rub your hands gently over his shoulders for a moment and nod, you let him fully manoeuvre you onto his thick thigh as he presses the skirt of the dress up more and lowers you down onto the grinder. 

Your brow furrows a little and your cheeks heat up as you can feel the ridges against your folds, you place your hands on his shoulder and chest to help support yourself against him as you lean to the left a little and start to rub slowly. 

A small gasp escapes as you feel pleasure start to build, it doesn’t hurt with it just being external but there’s something about the slight incline designed there and the ridges that made that feel so good. More good than you would’ve thought. 

“How’s that?” He whispers, watching in awe as you start to slowly move.

You gasp and nod, letting out a small moan. “Mm, yeah… It doesn’t-it doesn’t hurt…” 

“Good…” he nods and moans, he leans back on the sofa slightly and looks up at you as you keep moving slowly, getting used to the new toy and how it makes your whole body feel. 

Nathan places one of his large hands onto your hips, he feels your skin and caresses it softly, letting his hand trail down to your hip where he rubs small circles onto you. You can feel your cheeks heating up at this, it’s a different feeling and new. 

“Do you want to try the vibrator now?” He whispers. 

You bite your lip and nod. “Yes… Yes, I really do Nathan…” You whisper breathlessly, feeling your body flutter in anticipation. Your head falls back and you let out a moan as you feel the vibrations start to buzz against your clitoris and folds. It’s not too much pressure, it’s a great level to start at and you’re appreciative of that because it feels amazing, you can feel yourself becoming wetter and the ball of release waiting to unwind now. 

You rock your hips slowly as it buzzes through, you’re testing the waters and lightly scratching his head as you do so. You take a shaky breath as you feel the different textures, the slight raises, ridges and as the vibrations travel through your body and hit your core. 

Nathan lets out a groan at the feeling of your nails against his scalp and closes his eyes. His hands rub your hips gently, guiding you and you press your head against his shoulder, starting to moan slightly as the sensitive nerves come to life with the heat of pleasure. Your forehead burrows into him more as you feel Nathan adjust it to slightly increase the intensity of the vibrations, you let out a whine at the feeling. It tingles deliciously and you bite your lip. 

He’s watching your expressions, making sure it never gets too much. He’s done this for your enjoyment, he wants you to feel good and for this not to put too much pressure or stress on you and possibly cause a pelvic floor flare up. 

Nathan feels your hot breath tickle against his shoulder as you moan and muffle, the feeling of that, of knowing that he’s responsible for this, for giving you this kind of pleasure and getting to bask in it makes his cock throb as he watches you and listens to your musical moans. 

He puts his hand to your cheek and tilts your head away from his shoulder, he loves feeling your moans as well as hearing them but now he needs to feel your lips. He tilts your head closer to meet his mouth and your lips collide in a messy, frenzy kiss. 

Both of you are consumed with pleasure and passion and it shows in the meeting of your lips, your tongues delve into each other's mouths in a frenzied dance. You moan against his mouth as you keep moving against the grinder and it feels so good, you’ve never felt anything like it before and the combination of that with Nathan’s lips is the hottest thing ever. 

He keeps deepening the kiss, Nathan is head over heels and seeks contact however he can get it, he loves having you like this and feeling your tongue against his, your breath mixing into you both panting as one in each other’s embrace. 

It’s the stuff of dreams. His dreams. His wet dreams. 

You both continue to kiss and then Nathan pulls away slightly. “How does it feel, baby?” He whispers and you feel the breath of his words tickle your kiss swollen lips. 

“Good… So good, Nate…” You whisper between moans as you keep rocking your hips. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks in a low gravelly voice as he blinks slowly while watching you, you shake your head in response. 

“Not at all.” 

Nathan nods. “Good.” 

Nathan keeps one hand on your hip as the other hand then reaches down to free himself. He looks up at you with his big brown eyes and grips his length. It’s already aching, it never takes long for him to get worked up. Nathan gives himself a slow pump, you feel a shiver in your spine as your body tingles in anticipation and you watch with bated breath as he does. 

“Spit.” 

It’s a soft command that you follow, you blink slowly and tilt your head down just over his tip and spit down onto the head of his angry cock. It twitches as you do, he lets out a loud moan, feeling incredibly turned on at both the sight and feeling of that. 

His eyes closed for a moment, his thick, dark lashes fanning against his cheeks as he tilted his head and his groans, squeezing his now lubricated cock with his hand. He starts to pump himself now and you let out a moan watching, you can’t tear your eyes away and it’s an erotic feast for your eyes as you keep grinding against the toy, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. 

Those charming, big brown eyes open again, they’re half-lidded as he looks at you, watching you. His breathing is slow and heavy as he keeps pumping himself, the sounds coming from you both are filthy and heavy in the air. 

You reach a hand down to lightly tug at his tip just as he likes, Nathan lets out a loud moan at that, bucking his hips a little for more friction with your gentle, soft hands. You moan and bite your lip at his response, you start to pump him as well and he moans watching you, his hand moving to his base and heavy balls as he keeps watching the pretty sight on his lap. 

It doesn’t take long at all for him to get there, his length is throbbing and on the verge of being perfectly milked by your hands and he’s loving the feeling of you on him. On his dick with your hands, on his leg, rubbing yourself to climax. He knows you’re getting close and that’s making him close. 

After a couple of minutes of pumping him, he can’t hold back anymore. He needs release and his cock is already leaking pre come, lubricating him even more by coating all over his length with your spit. He thrusts his hips up and whines out loudly, Nathan pants and cries. “Fuck… baby… Fuck…” He whines as he comes all over your hand and his toned stomach. 

He pants heavily, his face looking flustered and he looks up at you with heavy eyes and you smile, feeling your cheeks burning up. It’s all so hot and his release has just turned you on even more. You know you’re on the verge too and you’re glad because there’s not really any pain so far. 

“I think I’m getting…” You pant out. 

“Close? Not too much?” He asks softly as he has one hand on himself and the other on your hip, gently helping you rock yourself on top of him. 

“Mm, close. It’s good.” You moan and rock your hips more, trying to get a bit more of the ridges near the top to rub against your clitoris, you know that’s what will push you over the edge with these vibrations. 

You keep rocking as the vibrations make you sing with moans and you squeeze his shoulders and look at him with wide eyes before shutting them tightly in pleasure. 

You shake slightly in his lap as your release builds up to the peak and the waves of pleasure crash over you and your body feels hot as you come and release. You cry out and moan as you orgasm on the grinder and his thigh. He stops the vibrations knowing that overstimulation and post-orgasm can make vaginismus hurt more and flare up. You’re still gripping onto his shoulders and you pant, trying to recover your breath. 

He caresses your cheek as you both pant and he presses a gentle kiss to your lips and rubs your back. “Feeling okay? You did so good, you really did baby.” 

You nod and rest your head against his chest as you feel his heart hammer away like a loud drum, you’re not sure who has the higher heart rate as you move off of the grinder and cuddle him. 

**********************

It had been a week since the first grinder experiment on the couch, it was later in the evening. You were just getting into bed, having come from a nice long bath to try and help relax your pelvic floor and soothe some of the discomfort you’d had that day. 

“There.” Nathan throws something onto the bed. 

“Hmm? What is it?” You look over at him, not paying much attention to the objects. 

“It’s the better dilators.” He says matter of factly in the most casual way possible. 

You raise your eyebrows, trying to suppress a chuckle but it comes out within seconds. You look at them curiously with a smile. 

“This is more of what I was expecting for your gynaecological experiments than a grinder, but knowing you, I should’ve expected the grinder first.” You say and pick up one of the new dilators. 

“I think they have to go through some kind of review process technically?” You ask looking over at him. 

“You didn’t have that concern for the grinder.” He responds smugly with a devilish grin and you feel your cheeks heat up. “But don’t worry, that’s why it took so long, all those stupid doctors with ill-judged priorities. I had a physio in New York, Stockholm, and three gynaecologists approved it. Good enough for you?” He tilts his chin down and raises his eyebrows. 

“Four would’ve been ideal, but I’ll take it.” You say with a chuckle but still sigh dramatically as you look at the dilators which just makes him shake his head and sit down on the bed. They’re lighter, the material does feel a bit nicer but there wasn’t really anything wrong with the material of the first ones you’d brought. You do notice that they’re a bit smaller which makes you smile, even the smallest in the other pack still felt quite big and had given you anxiety. This feels more reassuring, something you know would’ve been why Nathan made this design choice. 

“The sizes?” You whisper. 

“Yeah, I thought smaller would be more manageable and easier for easing in.” He says casually and then explains the design and material choices as you nod along, touched by the unique gesture. 

“That’s kind of sweet, thank you, you weirdo.” You smile and kiss his cheek. Nathan unusually so, doesn’t say anything but he smiles enjoying the feeling of your soft lips against his. He wouldn’t freely admit it to anyone but it makes it all worth it to him. 

[miiyayaya]

✩°｡⋆ Hello everyone ⋆｡°✩ 18/08/24

This is my third day learning Dutch and I must say, I'm starting to already get confident in the language which is kind of a rare thing for me, as I usually am not someone who is really self-confident, but I still am sure that I am making a lot of mistakes while talking or writing.

✩°｡⋆ What I did Today ⋆｡°✩

Today I actually didn't have that much motivation to sit down and study, and I also watched only one video from the Dutch with Kim playlist, but I did a lot of research about the language on my phone and just translated a bunch of sentences from german to dutch and vice versa.

I focused mainly on my vocabulary and wrote some words down in my notebook, I also looked up some more verb conjugations.

I also stumbled upon something called "het betrekkelijk voornaamwoord" and researching about it kind of led me down a linguistic (?) rabbit hole.

In yesterday's post, I had also said that I would start adding snippets of me writing a paragraph in Dutch so that you too can see my progress and I have kept my promise. :>

✩°｡⋆ Dutch Paragraph ⋆｡°✩

Het is mijn derde dag dat ik nederlands leer. Vandaag had ik geen motivatie,dus ik heb niet veel geleerd. Ik heb alleen een nederlandse video gekeken en ik heb de woorden in de video die ik niet weet, in mijn notitieboek geschreven.

(Could only write this much, but I will probably keep this section longer in the future as I learn more, and if you can speak Dutch and spot a mistake, please feel free to correct it in the comments!)

Thank you all for reading and goodbye! 💙

[svtdarlingbby]

Seventeen reacts to their s/o writing them a love letter

Imagine you write them a letter filled with everything you love about them and how thankful you are that they are your boyfriend. Everything you wrote is from the bottom of your heart <3 inspired by Love Letter MV all they way from 2016

Seungcheol:

upon seeing the letter he immediately smiles

"What's all this?" he says as his eyes widen upon opening up the letter and seeing paragraphs upon paragraphs of your handwriting

takes a few minutes to read it and you see his expression soften

periodically looks up at you in pure adoration as he continues to read

he smiles when he gets to the part describing how strong, caring, and handsome he is lol

"Y/N...." he says as he finishes reading and engulfs you in the most comforting hug he's ever given you

will kiss your forehead also

"I love you so much" he says with you squeezed up to his chest

Jeonghan:

his eyebrows furrow in confusion as soon as you hand him the letter

"What is this, a bill?" he asks

"No silly! Open it up!" you urge him as you playfully smack his shoulder

the cheesiest grin lights up his face as he realizes its a letter written by you

"You wrote all of this?" he asks in bewilderment as he scans the letter.

as he reads, he'll add comments like "no way" or "I remember that" as his smile grows

once he's done reading, he looks into your eyes

"Did you really mean all of that Y/N?"

"Of course I did!"

"God I love you so much" he said gently putting down the letter and gives you the sweetest kiss

Joshua:

you left the letter on his desk anticipating the moment he'd read it

once you notice him at his desk you slip into the room

"Y/N! You wrote so much!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up

"Give me a second," he says as he begins to read

focuses entirely on the letter, scanning every detail in your handwriting

will occasionally nod his head and smile at particularly fond moments in the letter

chuckles when he reads that you wrote a cheesy joke he told you once

once he's done reading he'll immediately get up and hug you

"How did I get so lucky?"

Jun:

"Hey Y/N, did I get any mail?" he'd ask you one day

now was the perfect opportunity to give him your letter

"The only thing that came was this letter," you said as you handed it to him

"I wonder who it's from-" the biggest smile would grace his features when he realizes it's from you

"No way!" he'd practically rip open the envelope

his jaw drops amusingly as he holds up the letter to you showing you just how much you wrote

"Well are you gonna read it?" you asked smirking

"Of course!" he immediately begins to read

"Oh my gosh stop" he says laughing and smiling as he read over the section you described your funniest memory with him

his smile never fades as he finishes up the letter

doesn't say anything and immediately gives you a hug

"You know, I'm going to cherish you and this letter forever?"

Hoshi:

you've been meaning to give Soonyoung your letter but you just haven't found the best time

one day he had a particularly rough day and just wasn't feeling his best

after he finished his dinner, you placed the letter in front of him on the table

"Y/N what is this?" he asks

"Open it and you'll find out!"

he tears open the envelope and opens the card, blinking several times as he is taken aback at how much you wrote

"Woah, when did you write all of this?" he says, smiling for the first time that day

he reads the letter and you can almost see the stress & tension leave his body as his eyes hover over your handwriting

his smile grows and he looks up at you in adoration when he gets to the part where you describe how much he's like a tiger LOL

once he's done reading he hugs you, lifting you off the ground & keeping you as close as possible to him

"I love you Y/N. Thank you, I really needed to hear that."

Wonwoo:

you slipped the letter into the same place his bookmarks as resting in the novel he was currently reading

as he grabbed his book to continue reading, you made sure to watch him as he furrowed his brows at the sight of a letter submerged within his book

doesn't really look up to find you, he just unfolds the letter and begins reading

a warm smile graces his features as soon as he realizes it's from you

you could hear him chuckle when he gets to the part where you describe how he's your bias in Seventeen and in life

his expression softens and you swear you could see tears in his eyes when he reads the part where you reassure him that he is amazing person you'll always be in love with and that his mother will always be proud of the person he is

when he's done reading, he'd silently wipe tears from his eyes and you'd enter the room

immediately pulls you onto the couch with him as he hugs you and kisses your forehead

"I love you so much Y/N."

Woozi:

it was another late night in the studio producing songs and you knew Jihoon was tired

he was feeling burnt out, and as he took a break from producing you slipped the letter onto his desk in the studio

"Is this yours Y/N?" he'd ask you

"Nah, it's for you Jihoon," you'd say gesturing for him to read it

he opens the note and you can see his expression brighten and turn shy at the same time

you could tell he feels flustered seeing how much you praise him in your letter

nonetheless he keeps reading uninterrupted

once he's done reading, you could tell he was a little emotional

doesn't even say anything as he pulls you into a hug and mutters an "I love you" as he squeezes you a bit tighter

DK:

you decided to leave the letter in a random spot he'd definitely notice

so you left it right in front of the front door of your apartment

"Hey Y/N, is this yours?" he'd ask

"Nope, maybe it's yours" you'd respond feigning ignorance

he'd just shrug as he opened the envelope and he was delighted to see it was a letter from you to him

"Hey Y/N, what's all this?" he'd say showing you just how much you wrote

you simply shrugged as he proceeded to read, his iconic smiling growing the more he read on

he'd chuckle at the funny parts when you referenced the hilarious moments you've experienced together

he was super expressive to say the least as he smirked when it was obvious he was reading the portion of the letter where you praised his handsome looks

his expression grew soft when you could tell he was nearing the end of your letter as you described how lucky you were to have him in your life

"Y/N stop this was so sweet!" he'd say, embracing you as he spun you around.

Mingyu:

"What's the occasion?" he'd ask after you hand him the letter

"Nothing, I just think you need to know this," you said smiling

Mingyu looks as you and smiles as he opens the letter

he laughs as he sees how much you wrote

"You've gotta give me a minute" he laughs as he begins to read

the most endearing smile graces his face as he reads on

says "Ha," "I know," and "for real" at various moments in the letter

sometimes he blurts out "I forgot about this!" when you recount a memory you two made long ago

once he's done reading the letter he's still smiling like an idiot and feels like the luckiest man alive

"Come here," he'd say as he pulls you into a kiss, feeling him smile against you as he wraps his arms around you

Minghao:

you hand Minghao the letter while you noticed him doze off

"What's this?" he asks, chuckling at the frog stationary

"A note," you say with a giggle.

"I ain't reading all of that you," he says after noticing how much you wrote

"Hao!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! You didn't need to write all of this! Doesn't your hand hurt?" he says as he gently grabs your dominant hand and squeezes it.

"Apparently I thought you were worth it" you feigned hurt as Minghao laughed

"All right, let me read it," he said as he began to read.

he remained focus on the letter as he examined your handwriting and all the words you strung together praising him

his expression softened the further he read on as he felt his heart flutter at your sweet words

"You are absolutely correct" he says after he reads the part of your letter praising his sense of fashion

once he is done reading the letter he looks into your eyes with the most endearing expression

"I've never been more in love with you Y/N" he says pulling you into a hug

Seungkwan:

you fold up your letter into a paper airplane and launch into into Seungkwan

unfortunately it accidentally crashed into the side of his head

"OH! What was that for Y/N?" he'd laugh in amusement

"It's a letter for you," you said shyly

"So you took Peder's advice" (Peder's the dude who collabed with BSS he's got a song based on this scenario haha)

"Maybe"

Seungkwan had the biggest smile as he unfolded the paper plane and smoothed it out

"Your handwriting is still so pretty" he remarked as he began to read the letter

halfway through the letter you could see the tears welling in his eyes

"Y/N..." he said looking at your with tears flowing down his cheeks

"Aw Seungkwan are you okay?" you ask

"I'm not even done reading your letter but you're the best thing that's happened to me" he says as he kisses your head and hugs you, tears dampening your shirt as you wrap your arms around him

Vernon:

"Hey Vernon, you got some fan mail!" you joked as you handed him your letter

"Wait actually?" he'd ask, dead serious

he's so funny and cute omg

"Open it and see!"

"No way," he'd say seeing the letter is from you and in total shock at how much you wrote about him

he'd immediately start reading and smile

chuckles at all of the inside jokes you mentioned

looks up at you periodically with pure adoration in his eyes that you think of him so dearly

"This is too much," he'd say with a smile as he finished the letter

"It's all true though" you'd say shyly

"How are you mine?" he'd ask and engulf you into a bear hug

Chan:

Chan was taking a break between songs he was dancing to in the practice room when you decided to hand him your letter

"Oh wow, when did this come in?" he asked after downing some much needed water

"At the perfect moment" you joked as he began to open the envelope

"Wait, what! This is so much!" he exclaimed in shock as he smiled in amusement at how much words you wrote about him.

"Yeah and?" you ask while laughing as he began to read your letter

his laughter lights up the room as he reads over the funny joke about Jeonghan's hair you inserted into the note

"Yeah he does look like a sheep" he laughs

gets all flustered when he reads the part where you compliment his dancing skills

"Stahhhppp" he'd say, playfully nudging your shoulder with the letter

"It's trueeee" you'd respond, playfully smacking his bicep

"Y/N stop I love you so much you're so sweet I can't" he'd say as he hugged you and kissed your cheek

Masterlist

[the-insomniac-emporium]

tale of woe

ARTICULO MORTIS- the moment of death

(Reblogs/comment are appreciated, I read every tag! :3 See under the read-more for an alternate version without the lighting effect, notes on details, as well as a copy of the final sketch)

The constellation is one of the two mentioned during Cassandra's stargazing scene, Ursa Major. The other, Orion the Hunter, was already featured in my previous piece, Stargazer.

Having a 'halo' of red around her head was one of my earliest concept points for this piece, in reference to her cult ending.

In Romeo & Juliet, Juliet's decision to end her life isn't just about her grief over Romeo, it's the knowledge that her only real options are either to die or to be sent off to live as a nun. When so much of her story is already about trying to choose her own fate, to avoid the life that has been planned out for her, it's easier to understand her final decision. Anywho, the real point of this paragraph is that this is why the left side of the piece features a church building.

The circular window in the church has 8 slices, each with a color representing one of the 7 routes, plus a bonus one for Mia. The colors are all eye-dropped from the character sprites, minus Miranda's, which I selected from the piece I did for her.

The three graves on the left are for the Stans. One of them literally says STAN, one is blank, and the last one has the initials R.S. (Rebecca Stan). On the right side we have a grave for the MC, partially since they die in the cult ending, partially because the right side is more symbolic of the play's canon ending, so the MC's grave is really Romeo's grave.

The main color for the curtains was taken from Cassandra's default sprite, specifically her shirt, because why not? Similarly, the color for the boards/stage at the bottom is taken from her pants. Because why not?

technically the flowers in her hand are supposed to be roses, but I realized about halfway through this piece that over the years my simplified way of drawing roses has gradually turned into just drawing tulips. oops. seriously tho, oops. also realized that this one pan I use for cooking, which I always thought was an 8x8 pan, is actually a 9x9 pan. which explains several recurring difficulties with some of my favorite baking recipes. guess I'm just a silly goose

this had so many layers holy fuck. I used the same file for the original pose sketches, as well as a bunch of reference photos, but even with that in mind it's crazy that this had over 70 layers. by the end there's still, like, 20 active ones. each section had a separate layer for the outline + the color, another couple layers for the banner on bottom, one for lighting, and then the constellation was it's own layer.

Final outline sketch:

Version without the lighting effect (which is intended to mimic the way stained glass looks when hit by sunshine):

[fandangotales]

Who tries to watch/is around you when you sleep Cult AU

Characters: Xiao, Heizou, Venti

Warnings: Yandere content, Mature content, Sexual content (Xiao’s part), stalking, angst (Venti’s part)<3

PART 2

Reader is GN!

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY APPRECIATED! <3

Xiao:

You randomly woke up one night, seeing a soft golden glow coming from the corner of your room. You looked over in it’s direction. The glow appeared to be 2 orbs, slightly illuminating the corner, showing the slight outline of a… person?

Somebody was staring at you from the darkness. You screamed, because that’s creepy, and obviously not something normal to see when you wake up. Especially if you are unaware of somebody being in your room.

“Are… you alright?” A familiar voice trailed, coming from the corner.

Oh.

It was Xiao.

After a very long rant from you of why you found his behavior creepy, he seemed to understand. Since then you haven’t physically seen him in your room. However, you can always feel his presence, or rather his surveying gaze, the very second you enter your room, at nearly any time of the day.

You were a bit hesitant about changing your clothes in your room because of this, but you eventually decided that Xiao would have the decency not to look.

…

Unless you decided to open your window, you would remain blissfully unaware of the breathy moans echoing atop your roof.

You didn’t need to know about how he touched himself as he watched you, or how he secretly wanted you to open that window.

You didn’t need to know about how he desperately stroked his cock, imagining his hands as yours.

You didn’t need to know about the hot tears that leaked from his eyes from the sheer pleasure.

Would you call him disgusting? Would you be furious? Or… would you like what he was doing?

Xiao’s getting a little too worked up just thinking about the possibilities.

Heizou:

Much similar to Xiao, Heizou is the type to watch you.

Xiao had found him writing in a notebook atop your roof, talking to himself about Archons know what, and just how lovely you looked when you were asleep.

He was brought inside your room, casually standing before you. Heizou did’t even try to deny that he was watching you. He even insisted that it was strictly for security reasons. However, given how exited he looked to finally be inside of your room, you are highly doubtful of his true motives.

Due to you being half asleep, you didn’t register how his eyes flicked over your decorations, random belongings of yours, and your bed. At one point he mumbled something about finding a better vantage point, before he was promptly picked up like a sack of potatoes, and carried out of your room by the yaksha. You could hear him trying to reason with Xiao, to no avail.

“C’mon, put me down! Shockingly, I can walk by myself.”

The adeptus didn’t respond.

“Man alive, you are the worst!” He pouted, as the rest of their one-sided conversation was tuned out of your ears.

You yawned, deciding to deal with him tomorrow.

Tomorrow, however, is when you started to notice that things got a little off.

Random items were slightly out of place of where you had previously placed them, and there was an unknown journal on your desk. You opened the front page, quickly retracting your hands as you saw it’s contents.

The pages were covered in dried up… liquid? You shut down that thought, not even wanting to know what it was. The ink on the pages was smudged and barely legible, except for two very clear paragraphs that covered a whole page.

“I love them I love them I love them…”

Another section featured a detailed description of how had you slept the previous night. For some reason your heart rate was on the page too, along with a little note:

“An ordinary rate for a resting person, I’m glad that I didn’t wake them up!”

This meant that he was in your room at one point the night before, or even earlier than that. You didn’t want the answer.

You shakily closed the book, disturbed by it’s contents. Your face blanched when you saw the name written on the bottom of the cover.

“Heizou”

Venti:

Instead of directly watching you sleep, Venti instead makes an effort to sleep with you at night. (Not anything gross, but if you wanted that, he certainly wouldn’t mind)

He claims that people sleep better in the company of others, which is why he comes to your room nearly every night.

When you are in bed together, he seems to establish as much skin to skin contact as possible. It’s not uncommon to feel his whole torso pressed against your back, while his legs are entwined with yours, and his arms are tightly wrapped around your midsection. This position makes it almost impossible for you to move, but you don’t mind.

If anything, you felt comforted by his hold. You could even say that you enjoyed the evenings that he stayed over.

One night though, you heard Venti talking to himself as he was cuddling with you. His head was in the crook of your neck, and you could feel hot puffs of air from his breathing on your throat. Most of his ramblings were inaudible, but one thing stood out to you in particular.

“H-hah… Your Grace. I-I just want to crawl inside of you~” he whispered, slightly giggling.

His hold on your body tightened, as his nails pressed into the flesh on your sides. It felt as if they were drawing blood.

“You’ll stay with me forever, right?” He panted, as his breathing became uneven. His words reached you with a hint of desperation.

“You wouldn’t leave me like h-he did, would you, Your G-Grace?” He choked, as you felt warm tears sliding onto your throat.

[pebblume]

I never realized how liberating writing fanfiction would be. I hadn’t written creatively in years. It’s been so long that I kind of forgot what it felt like. The childlike rush of pouring your heart out onto a blank page, not caring about the results as long as you were having fun. I’ve tried writing fanfic a couple of times, for different fandoms across the years, but never finished anything I was really happy with, nothing that I felt comfortable sharing with the world. But something just clicked for me this past week. I realized how much fun it was to stretch out my writing muscles, to get inside the heads of my favorite characters. I realized that it didn’t have to be perfect to be worthy of being shared and loved by others. I realized that I had so many stories inside myself - more than I thought possible. 

But perhaps what I’m most in awe of is fanfic readers. The people who read my work and leave kudos and bookmarks and comments - one word comments, sweet comments, silly comments, paragraph-long comments. I love them all. I used to be afraid of leaving comments on AO3, afraid I wouldn’t have enough words, wouldn’t have the right words, to depict how I felt. But when I felt firsthand how much those comments meant to me I started leaving more and more of them, spreading a digital paper trail of love to all my favorite authors. More and more often I recognize the profile names and images in my comment section and think, Hey, I know you! Now I’m not just a guest on AO3, or a passive reader. I belong here. 

I won’t lie and say I don’t miss drawing a bit, my previous creative outlet. There are plenty of drawings inside me too, itching to be realized. I really just don’t have the time for two time extensive hobbies, not when I need to balance school and practicing and little things like sleeping and eating and relaxing. I miss it, but not as much as I thought I would. There’s a level of investment to sharing a story online that feels…special. When I post my art, I get engagement, and it feels nice, but ultimately, most people are only spending about ten seconds looking at the work I spent eight hours on, if that. When someone reads my fics, we’ve now spent time together. You’ve lived inside my head for a bit, made it your home. It’s about feeling seen, I think. Writing makes me feel understood in a way visual art sometimes doesn’t. It makes me feel vulnerable in the same way performing music does, but less exposed too. It’s interesting to me. 

The only downside, if you can call it that, is now that the writing bug has infected me, I’m finding it harder and harder to stop. I’ll have an idea and then suddenly five hours have flown by because I’m on a creative streak and I just want to write one more idea down, which turns into two, and so on and so forth. I dread stopping, because what if I forget something? What if I get into a writing block later? Suddenly I have people who want to read the things I write and I want to provide it, I really do, but I also have responsibilities. I say, as I write this, ignoring my audition tomorrow afternoon. 

I still have a bit of embarrassment attached to fandom works. When I tell acquaintances that I like to draw or write, I rarely tell them I mean fanart and fanfiction. As if loving something that deeply, that sincerely, is inherently shameful in this age of irony and soulless remakes. Especially when my interests usually consist of media marketed towards children, nevermind the fact that it has more emotional maturity than most ‘adult’ works. But I’m trying to get better about it. A lot of my closest friends know about my hobbies, and some I’ve even let see my work. It’s terrifying but also giddying, seeing them like an art post or comment on a fic. After all, to reap the rewards of being loved, one must submit themselves to the mortifying ordeal of being known, or something like that. 

I realized today that I’ve written over 30,000 words in the past two weeks about about two characters who don’t belong to me, but whom I’ve made my own.

And I’ve never felt happier