#i hope someone who's actually talented with writing sees this and takes inspo

[thewafflewhat]

i would like to propose a new leah headcanon (using the knowledge that she likes both writing/poetry and music/musicians*coughfatincough*) and say that she definitely had a spoken word poetry phase

specifically for shane koyczan and his work with the short story long, hannah epperson, and dan mangan

[seeingstarks]

the cream on the cake wants to escape

summary : being newly signed to all elite wrestling, you don't know many people and expect no one to show up to your birthday party but end up with company of the devil himself and mr. best in the world. pairing : mjf x cm punk x plus size afab!reader cw : cursing, many sexual innuendos, teasing, breast grabbing/kneading, daddy/babygirl/daddy dynamic, implied cmjf references, thigh riding, cock/clit teasing, begging, male masturbation, blowjobs, dirty talk, double penetration, creampies, butt-plugs, slight bondage, ass slapping, utter filth. a/n : my birthday is in three days and with cm punk coming back soon i just had to whip something up also i love cmjf but basically this is something small i made for myself. i hope you all enjoy it though and as always reblogs are very much appreciated!! my ask box might be open soon for drabbles as i'm slowly getting the inspo for writing again. <3 there may be a few spelling/punctuation errors. word count : 2,518 words tag list : @josiewrites , @baysexuality

some of the talent backstage had their suspicions when you became apart of bullet club gold in just a matter of months after being signed to all elite wrestling.

the rumours began to spread, hushed whispers down the halls the moment you left a room. there was no getting away from your ex - however none of them knew what actually happened.

you carefully hand-wrote each invitation to your birthday party being held later that night, allowing everyone to bring a plus one. in each envelope corner you curled a cursive letter heart with your initials on it.

not knowing many people at all elite, you felt doubt that anyone would come. if you had known more people maybe they would have thrown you a surprise party instead of doing one for yourself.

with a sigh you sat down at catering after grabbing a boxed cupcake juice robinson gave you earlier but didn't have time to sit down and eat until now.

glancing around, not many seemed to even care or notice it was your birthday. they were either too wrapped up in their own lives or didn't see you sitting all alone.

pulling out a lighter from your jacket pocket you attempted to ignite the flame a few times but had no luck. "seriously, the one time where things go to absolute shit and it's my birthday!?" you cursed out weight shifting as you felt someone's presence next to you.

anyone but him. "how is my switchblade babe doin', aye? need a light?" jay questioned with a smirk before pulling out his lighter and igniting the candle on the cupcake as if it were nothing.

you rolled your eyes before even taking a glance at jay, "didn't need your help, and don't call me that. we're not together anymore. don't even know why we're in a stable together." you crossed your arms at your ex.

"wow.. last time i help a friend out. well, i'll leave ya' be then." jay stood up and walked away while you took the wrapper off your cupcake and took a bite from the sweet treat.

a single tear fell down from the corner of your eyelid, today of all days you felt most lonely. the salty liquid ran all the way down to your lips and you didn't want anyone to see you crying. luckily bullet club gold wouldn't be needing the locker room today as you booked it and locked the door behind you.

the rest of the day seemed to go by at an agonizingly slow pace, you began to set up pastel decorations and blew up a few balloons as the clock ticked down nearing the time for guests to arrive.

walking into the washroom, you fixed up your h/c hair and brushed it off to the side while fixing your black dress which hugged your curves perfectly. not having the time to put a bra on or even caring about it, you shrugged while looking in the mirror and threw a light jean jacket on over the dress while slipping on a pair of combat boots, comfort and style.

once ready, you took a seat on the sofa and waited a good ten minutes before someone knocked on the door, "coming!!"

once seeing who was in your doorway your mouth fell agape, so many questions filling your mind but words unable to form.

"you 'gonna just stand there or welcome me in, i'll move ya' if i have too." shaking your head, you simply giggled and stepped aside.

"how- when- where?" you questioned and raised an eyebrow while looking the chicago native up and down who did indeed age like fine wine.

"okay.. see lemme' explain. me and uh- let's say a co-worker of mine paid off the others not to come in order for you to have a special night, that is... if you want."

you punched phil on the chest, who didn't flinch the slightest. the chicago native pretending to be hurt and scrunching up his face, "ouch that hurt soooo much."

"i was crying earlier and this so called co-worker of yours is nowhere to be seen!" you yelled at him and punched the man once again.

"shhh, babygirl. there he is." your eyes left his and looked up to meet with a pair of dark hues belonging to the devil himself who locked the door behind him.

"aw, are you two getting started without me?" maxwell asked.

gulping thickly you hid you your face in the crook of the chicago native's neck, your cheeks starting to heat up the moment phil wrapped his large hands around your waist and gave a slight squeeze.

"so brave before and now look at her hiding... we're gonna' have fun with you tonight, such a shy doll isn't that right?" maxwell taunted and approached the two of you, the heat of his breath running down your own neck sending chills down your spine, "but tonight is all about the birthday girl.. tomorrow me and phil have our fun.. that is if you can still walk by the time we're done."

stepping away from phil momentarily, you allowed him to still hold your hips as you looked up at him with a soft smile. "well... i've always wanted to try thigh riding.." you admitted shyly while glancing between the two men as they each shared a knowing look which could only mean trouble.

"oh? whose thigh do you wanna ride first?" phil pulled you in closer, rubbing his hands along your curves and pressing his growing hard on up against you, "look what you're doing to me already baby.."

maxwell smirked as another pair of hands went behind your figure, going under your shirt and massaging your breasts as you let out a soft moan for the devil, "fuck- not wearing a bra, is that just for daddy?" he asked and pinched your nipples causing a whine to escape your lips all at the same time when phil brushed the tip of his cock up against your clothed entrance.

"n-no it mm- happened by coincidence but i will make sure to wear em' less for both my daddies." you responded with a grin.

"did you hear that phil? she's got two daddies now- will be fun adding a chick into our little adventures, hm?" max questioned the chicago native who simply nodded as the two men continued to tease you.

throwing your head back you let out another moan, your underwear soaked at this point simply by the fact of phil teasing your clothed clit with his cock and maxwell tormenting your breasts with his hands, kneading at them as your nipples hardened under his touch, "more daddy- please-" you begged and took a sharp breath.

lifting your arms up, maxwell helped rid you of the black dress and phil briefly picked you up off your feet to slip the combat boots which were discarded haphazardly toward the floor.

you looked down and attempted to take your underwear off which caused phil to shake his head, "not yet, baby. don't think we forget about your little request."

phil took his clothing off and laid back on the sofa, luring you over with a finger wave as you straddled his thigh he pushed his knee up against your clit.

"go ahead and get off on my thigh, babygirl." your cheeks heated up once given permission as you began to ride his thigh, soft whimpers and moans already falling from your lips at the friction being created from your underwear.

"look at you.. soaked already and you haven't even had a cock inside you yet. just imagine how messy you're gonna be with both me and max inside you." the mere thought of what phil just said caused you to ride his thigh even faster, the moans becoming louder, your attention being adverted for a moment as you looked over in the corner to see maxwell jerking himself off in the chair, "don't stop doll, 'wanna watch." he spoke with a pant and you kept eye contact with maxwell while moaning out, "mmm-fuck!"

you were clearly falling apart on the chicago native, his cock hard while watching the curved beauty above him get off on just his thigh. "daddy- i'm so close-" you whined and grinded up against the man before making even more of a mess in your underwear.

"fuck- i'm close too babygirl-" maxwell spoke in broken breaths and phil gave you the okay to leave his thigh but not before he took your underwear as a sort of token to his accomplishments.

you crawled off the sofa, ass in the air which was definitely a sight to see for phil as your clit was still soaked from moments before. you dropped down to your knees infront of maxwell who had cum already dripping from the tip of his cock.

you stuck your tongue out and gave him kitten licks, looking up at maxwell with hooded eyes as his hands wrapped around in your hair and tugged gently while you took more of his length in and sucked lovingly. the man was already edging himself so it didn't take long for him to fill the entirety of your mouth with his warm seed, "i forgot to buy cake but that was some good as hell frosting." you smirked and wiped the remainder of the cum off your lips.

"always more where that came from, baby. however when the clock strikes midnight we get to have fun our way."

"what does your way entail exactly, phil?" you asked in a shy tone.

"well.. let's just say instead of crying over a stupid ex it will be because of overstimulation or.." phil looked around the room, a smirk growing on his lips, "cause we tied you up with this pastel ribbon. all depends if you're a good girl for us or not. isn't that right?"

you nodded your head, "yes sir, but i rather like that idea."

maxwell stood up from the chair and approached you, "what do you say we try it out tonight?"

you nodded your head so fast if you were a bobble head it would have popped off, eager to have more fun with the two men. "yes, pretty please."

"oh.. look how desperate she is to be tied up and filled with two cocks... think she can handle us both at the same time?" maxwell asked phil.

"let's find out and see."

phil picked you up and carried you to the sofa, placing kisses on each wrist before tying them together with pastel ribbon.

"ass up, legs spread." maxwell used a demanding tone of voice which had you dripping, he ran his fingers along your folds, "such a good girl already. prepared for the devil to corrupt you?" it wasn't a question, more of a warning as he slid into your entrance, giving you little time to adjust in attempts to grasp at the sofa.

"fuck, such a beautiful sight. look at her already clenching onto you so tight max.." phil hummed and entered himself slowly into your asshole, nearly hissing at how tight you were.

"p-phil- you're huge!" you yelled out, head barely able to think of a single thought while being stuffed full of two humongous cocks.

phil slapped you on the ass while entering the rest of his cock into you slowly as maxwell started to thrust, "that's daddy to you, got it?"

"uh-mhmm! yes daddy!" words became incoherent mumbles once the two men picked up speed, both making sure you were okay but at the same time whispering absolute filth into your ears as you clenched around their lengths as if your life depended on it.

"f-fuckk! you both feel amazing!" grunts and groans alike fell from both their lips and you could've sworn you heard them both call each other daddy, leaving you to wonder what they did in the midnight hour before adding a woman into the mix. you were never one to judge but with you there it was three times the charm.

the moans became increasingly louder as they pounded into you relentlessly, you'd all probably end up with a noise complaint sooner or later.

"go ahead and cum babygirl.. we can feel how close you are." you felt the heat of the chicago native's breath up against your ear, "yes sir." the flood gates were open as you came around maxwell's cock and he released inside of you while phil did the same. the three of you continued to ride out the high but you were the most worn out.

phil was the first to pull out as cum dripped from his tip all the way down from your asshole, "i was 'gonna save this for later but.. you should open it now." he handed you a small black box wrapped with a gold bow, the contents inside being a butt-plug.

your eyes went wide as you looked over at the chicago native, "what am i supposed to do with this?"

"think y'know.. sweetheart.. want you to sleep with it in as a reminder who owns that ass." he smirked and took the plug from your hand before inserting it inside your body.

"y-yes sir, thank you for the gift daddy." you placed a kiss to the chicago native's lips which he then returned and nipped at your lower lip, leaving you to want more.

maxwell had been keeping you warm in a way with his cock as you felt him continue to twitch inside you, a whine falling from your lips when he pulled out aswell.

"don't worry baby. there is much more where that came from." maxwell revealed a brown gift bag with the words burberry inscribed on the outside.

you sat back on the couch, still panting a bit while opening the gift from max which was a matching set of burberry lingerie in just your size, on the side was a pair of angel ears.

pouting you looked between the two men and they each furrowed their eyebrows, "what's wrong, baby?"

"just wanted something to keep this cum inside me. love being full of both my daddies icing like a cake." you grinned up at them as phil had something hid behind his back, a matching plug to the one gifted, "you're in luck."

yawning, the night activities started to take a toll on you so you got dressed in the lingerie which would surely be torn apart by morning and you kept the chicago native's gifts quite warm aswell.

once returning from the washroom, maxwell and phil were in their boxers and you cuddled up between them on the sofa before shutting your eyes as they each placed a kiss to your cheek.

"how was your birthday?" maxwell asked as you rested against his shoulder and you scratched the chicago native's beard softly, noticing him start to drift off toward slumber with your loving touch.

"best birthday ever. thank you both so much. now get some sleep, knuckleheads."

phil slapped your ass playfully in response, "goodnight, babygirl."

[starglitterz]

happy new year !

( this post is a little late, but it doesn't change the fact that i mean everything here HAHA <3 )

HI EVERYONE !! so, 2022 has just started, and i wanted to start off my year by thanking everyone on this account who made my 2021 amazing, and how i hope you will all stay with me throughout this year as well :>

so, 2021 was wild, to say the least. it's kinda surreal that i started this blog way back in april, and i never expected it to ever get this much attention. i'm so glad that my works make you guys happy, or that you enjoy them, or that you even feel the tiniest bit better after reading them. back when i first started, i never even dreamed that people would like my writing this much, to the point where i have over two thousand followers. i'm lucky to have so much support from all of you, and i want to say thank you for making my 2021 better :)

—

( individual letters will be on @quillwithlove ! )

to my mutuals ; i may not interact w all of you as much as i'd like to, but rest assured that i'll do my best to remedy that in 2022! all our conversations leave me smiling, and i swear all of you are so talented it's almost magic ?! i love talking to you all, you never fail to cheer me up :D let's talk more this year !

to my anons ; thank u all so much for having so much patience with me LOL! i love u guys, it makes me so !(&%(×*% /pos to think that you actually like talking to me enough to write such fun and cute asks in my inbox frequently even though i take like a million years to reply 😭 (looking at u especially 🌊 / 🍁 / meteor nonnies, ily guys MWAH) ill try to reply quicker this year too !!

to my followers ; i've said this before but i'll say it again! i am so endlessly grateful for all of you :] from when i wake up to see someone's left a message in my askbox, or spam-liked my fics, or reblogged with their thoughts on it – it makes me so, so happy. i'm so glad you guys enjoy my silly little writings that i post on the internet, and i hope you will continue to enjoy my work in 2022 :]

to everyone who read/reads cynosure ; i love this series w my whole heart, and the positive reception it receives literally makes me so glad i was brave enough to post it. thank you so much for all your adorable and hilarious comments/reblogs, they always make my day. i really hope you all continue reading it until i post the finale this year! :D

—

as for where this blog will be going in 2022, i plan to make it a lot more self-indulgent. recently i've been feeling quite pressured to post fics, and i feel quite guilty when i don't manage to write as often as other writing blogs i follow (no hate at all!! i think u guys are super cool hehe). i don't want to start associating this negative feeling w writing, especially since it's supposed to be something that i enjoy doing, and hence this year i'll be writing more of what i want, rather than what i think everyone will enjoy :) /nm

also, 2022 is going to be a big year for me; i've got my finals throughout may & june, then graduation, and another big event related to a traditional dance style i do towards the end of the year. i might not be able to post fics as often, so i'll try to focus a lot more on my series this year! i might also be publishing sugar baby a lot earlier than expected bc i have a lot of inspo for it LOL. as well as that, i'm going to try and be more active on my multifandom blog @icystqr as well :) so yeah, lots of plans for 2022 hehe >:D

it's going to be an exciting year for sure, so let's all take care and have an awesome time! ily guys so much, thank you for everything, and i hope you have a wonderful year ahead :) <3

♡, quill !

[deaddovecoterie]

ntke

[ co-written with @that-non-binary-yeet ]

inspo taken from this tiktok

ao3

series masterlist

fandom: boku no hero academia

genres: angst, drama, darkfic, villain au

warnings: none for now

word count: 1.8k

a/n: hey bitches, pretty sure we wrote this in the span of 6 hours all together or something so here it is :D I'm actually so excited to post this cause it's my first time creating something with this talented mf (@that-non-binary-yeet) and they're so good at writing so go follow them. anyway, I hope you guys like it :')

prologue ii || prologue iii || prologue iv

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to be the next number one hero, the one that always had a smile on his face. He was supposed to be All Might’s successor, the poster child for hope & peace and all that bullshit; that was his dream. At least that’s what he thought his dream was. Nothing is set in stone: plans change all the time. After all, the world isn't as predictable as we’d like to think it is.

Izuku Midoriya: UA traitor, a mole for the League of Villains. Who would’ve thought? Unsuspecting, kind, always willing to help, the very last person you would’ve dreamt of to drive a knife right through the backs of every hero.

Looking back on it, it made him laugh, maybe even grimace a little too. He was so naive, too willing to take each and every person’s words as truths. Now, the thought was almost sickening: ‘becoming a hero’ he couldn’t believe that used to be his goal. Never again would that thought cross his mind. He couldn’t afford to have something as childish as that holding him back. The people from his past were of no use to him if their ideals weren’t aligned with his.

They were all deluded, delusional, even, to think that the heroes were there to help them. Deku scoffed, the memory of his first doubts about their ‘protectors’ surfacing in his mind.

= 5 months prior =

“What do you have to lose Deku?”

Blood stained the soles of his shoes, heavy breaths filling in the near-deafening silence. It was supposed to be a training camp for the class, an opportunity to develop their quirks and learn from one another. As fate would have it, things were never as simple as that for the students of UA. Bakugo had been taken, Deku separated from his classmates; everything was falling apart too fast for them to fix. Nothing was working and everyone was becoming desperate.

Muttering to himself wasn’t getting him anywhere, and it certainly wasn’t going to help him find Bakugo. He felt like he was running in circles, pretending he was getting somewhere for a fleeting moment before finding himself back in the same spot he was in only seconds before.

“Focus, Izuku,” he muttered, his frustration increasing. It was only a matter of time before someone came across them. The League always seemed to be one step ahead of them, no matter how many shortcuts they took. It was like playing a two-person game at an arcade, except the villains had all the cheat codes.

‘Get in their heads, Izuku, think how they think’

His time was running out - Bakugos time was running out. He was wasting valuable time trying to find the safest way to possibly get him back. He racked his brain for what seemed like ages when a dangerous thought pushed its way through.

‘If the villains aren’t playing by the rules, then why should I? They’re not hesitating to do whatever it takes to secure their victory, so I should do the same. Right?’

Izuku nearly got mental whiplash. ‘What kind of hero thinks that? We’re taught to rescue and save people in the least risky way possible, not… that.’

He scolded himself, the thought lingering in the back of his mind even as he pushed them to the side. It felt illegal to even think about risking the lives of so many others just to save one person.

“Oh, I can smell the innocence all the way from over here,” a cold voice laughed. “So naive to think that there’s an easy way out.”

He knew. He didn’t have to turn around to see who it was: he’d recognize that voice from anywhere.

“Shigiraki,” Izuku greeted him, his voice stony. It took all of Deku’s strength to keep his body from shaking, sensing the villain getting closer with each breath he took.

“How nice to see you again. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Not long enough for my taste, but it’ll do,” he responded, his words dripping with venom.

“You’re scared shitless right now, aren’t you?” he snickered. “You’re doing a pretty poor job of hiding it.”

“Cut the bullshit, Shigiraki. What do you want?” There was no point in small talk. His friend was in danger and he didn’t have the luxury of wasting time.

“Someone’s up past their bedtime,” Shigiraki jeered. Izuku’s throat tightened, trying to swallow the anger that was rising quicker than he would have liked.

“I don’t have the time for this so either you hand over Kacchan or go waste someone else's time.”

“Ah, but that is where you’re wrong, young Midoriya.” This caught his attention. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Unless it’s Katsuki, there’s nothing you could offer me that I would want.”

“You may be right,” he shrugged, “but, maybe you should listen before giving your final answer.”

He took a step closer to the hero-in-training, waiting for his response.

“Fine. I’ll bite,” he snapped. Finally, for the first time in their conversation, Deku’s eyes met with piercing red ones.

“Wise decision.” he sneered. Midoriya kept his mouth shut, waiting expectantly for the offer. He was well aware that the longer he waited, the more danger his friends could be in, and the harder it would be to get Bakugo back.

“The League is looking for new blood. New faces.”

The words that left Tomura’s mouth were not the ones that Deku had expected. “Why should I care? They’ll be nothing more than new weeds I’ll be unrooting anyway,” he assured coldly.

“I don't think you’re hearing what I’m saying,” Shigiraki agitated, his patience wearing thin. He stared down Deku, their gazes locking. “We want you to join the League.”

There was a moment where his words hung heavily in the air. A second later, a clear laugh broke the eerie quietness around them.

Izuku laughed, a real, full laugh. His nerves dissipated, even if it was only for a second, as he listened to Shigiraki.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? Join you?” He breathed out in disbelief. “You do know I’m going to a school dedicated to training the next generation of heroes, right?”

“That’s exactly why we need you; you’re on the inside,” Shigiraki spoke, a small smirk beginning to form on his lips. “You’re the last person they would suspect.”

Though he tried to hide it, Izuku was terrified with the way his mind lingered on the offer for a few seconds too long. There was no immediate “no!” that was waiting to tumble off his lips, no dramatic exclamation of rejection.

“You’re disgusting,” Izuku spat, his hesitation leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

‘What the hell was that Izuku?’

Shirigiaki chuckled, noticing the pause in the young boy’s response. This was going to be easier than he anticipated.

“You know how corrupt hero society is: the rankings, the social aspect, all of that bullshit. They claim to be there to help the citizens of Japan, but the majority of them care more about what plaque their names can get on, what billboards their faces can be plastered to. You’ve seen it first hand, so why aid the initiative? Why stay and watch the inevitable downfall of the heroes? You and I both know that they’re no match for us. We’re always one step ahead of you, no matter how hard you try. Why not join the rest of us in trying to tear down the same hierarchy that planted that doubt into your head, the doubt that you couldn’t become a hero? Why feed into that when you can show them you can be so much more by joining me?”

“That’s bullshit,” Deku hissed. The heroes were created to keep the peace, to make the world a safer place. Going against them would only send the world into chaos, and who would want that? “The heroes were put in place to help people, unlike you,” he retorted, spitting out the last word like poison in his mouth.

“You’re blinded by false hope, Midoryia,” Shigiraki laughed. “You’re following everyone else's lead, never taking a second to consider what you think, what you want.”

“You don't know what I want.”

“I know enough to know you hate people who abuse their power, who use it to their advantage, to scare people into submission. How is that any different than what the heroes do to everyone? Don’t they use their power to keep everyone in line?”

“It’s- it’s different,” Izuku protested. Was it? The voice in the back of his mind nagged at him, planting a seed of doubt.

“Different how? Because they're ‘good’? It’s all perspective,” he countered.

“They- they are good, you’re the villain, not them.” Deku insisted, saying it in an attempt to convince himself more than anything.

The villain scoffed. “No, that’s the lie you’ve been told your whole life, it’s what you’ve been conditioned to believe.”

Deku was frustrated with himself, frustrated that he was even entertaining such a conversation in the first place. How could he claim to be a hero when he could see where Shigiraki was coming from? He grew up idolizing heroes, never once questioning their authority until this very moment.

Was it all a lie? Everything?

Tomura broke the silence, his rough voice cutting through; “I figured as much.”

“Figured what?” Izuku questioned.

“That you’ll need time to make up your mind, of course.”

“You’re a fool if you think I would ever consider.”

Shigiraki smiled wickedly. “If I’m not mistaken, you already have, haven’t you?”

“No, I haven’t,” he lied. It took all of Midoriya’s strength to keep from letting his words falter.

“You’re lying, Midoryia. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve considered it, thought it out. It’ll take time for you to see the truth, to see that we are right, but you will see it.”

Izuku held his breath, not trusting himself to speak.

“We are not demanding an answer right now. We’ll give you a month to think it over, and hopefully, you will accept my offer and join us.”

It was do or die. He was going into the deal completely blind. Izuku was unaware of the consequences he would face if he didn’t agree, yet he also wasn't ready to find out.

“Fine.”

‘Keep him on the line, keep him on the line. Let him think he’s in control.’

Shigiraki’s calm demeanour broke, his facial features contorting in shock. “Fine?”

“You heard me. I’ll think about it. If I find more pros than cons then there's no reason to not accept.”

Deku made sure to keep his voice even, despite how it threatened to shake with every word.

Shigaraki’s crooked smirk grew ever so slightly. “Easier to convince you than I originally thought.”

“You haven’t convinced me, I said I’d think it over.”

“Fair enough,” he acknowledged. “We’ll be awaiting your answer expectantly, Deku. Until then, I can only hope that we will be on the same side of this war when we encounter each other again.”

The blue-haired villain melted back into the shadows, the forest swallowing his figure. Izuku finally let himself take a shaky breath. Was he actually considering this? He wasn’t sure. It felt like he was having an internal war with himself, his conscience being the battlefield: no matter what conclusion he came to, neither option seemed to be the right one.

[sugar-petals]

This's been on my mind for awhile and i just wanted to know if im the only one: im both a hard and soft stan for all the bangtan boys but I just can't read any y/n x hobi kind of fics cause it feels weird?? Like I thirst over him (im not saying i dont think he's sexy, handsome or anything, cause he is!!) but it doesnt go so far from that. i cant picture myself dating or *being intimate* with him the way i do with the others..but why?? Maybe its the image he transmits?Wanted to hear your thoughts

as a general note first. it could be any member that a fan might feel more platonic about: simply a matter of character, looks, perceived connection. as you say, it might be that he sends out something else to you. that being said —there are two components to talk about here.

I. ON HOSEOK WRITERS

you’re very right about how sometimes, there’s a strong lateral portrayal going on if an idol fits a particular stereotype. you might be able to picture yourself in a scenario with a member, but it’s not something that’s written in the fandom. maybe because authors didn’t think about it. or maybe it’s unpopular. or not agreed on. several reasons can coincide.

fact is, image can for sure steer the way x reader fics are made. a lot of stage, photoshoot, and MV moments inspire many writers. you do have to say that it’s not all there is though. there’s a portion that gets ideas from backstage anecdotes. and a third fraction comes up with something on their own. a fourth wildly mixes everything. a fifth portion has someone else in mind but writes person XYZ instead. a sixth uses a mainstream porn or twt/tiktok trend as the basis of the character (... uncomfortable). a seventh author uses their life experience. another author replicates a popular book/movie. and so on.

hobi x reader writers have good reasons to get the first of inspo from his performance work where he shines. he’s the most stage-savvy member after all. they might get stuck there and not go any further because there’s already a lot to say about him going all out there. you might feel a way different atraction if someone wrote about a more private hoseok, or not, who knows? if there was some material about that. it’d be interesting to see how it plays out. advocating for some domestic hobi right here 😄

II. ON J-HOPE AND THE FANDOM

another fandom dynamic and bighit strategy that contributes to the effect. i always get the feeling he’s shown to us or shows himself in a more restricted, media-conscious type of way. more professional, less transparent. he’s not yoongi baring his most hidden concerns all day. he’s more sleek, not a target sphere of vulnerability or directness. 

it’s not about privacy, but opinion: we know his family and hobbies and personality, but seemingly not the innermost hoseok. he’s the member that projects the most out but nobody can venture in. extroversion is a better shield than most people think. even if he says something very intimate, or raps about it, he keeps his smile on, and it takes the attention away. namjoon lets us gaze into his mind and strikes that tone, hoseok remains more elusive. his role in the team fortifies that, he doesn’t have to do the concept work that RM/suga do as producers.

a fanfic plot needs some degree of that innermost being in any kind of portrayal to really get to a reader. jimin is so desired as a date by many because he carries a lot of things about him on his sleeve. someone who decides not to do that will leave people guessing and unsure. it’s not always the looks: the idol who’s the least blank slate in a group is often the most beloved. 

they’re easier to picture as your counterpart, an emotional bridge is easier to build. again then — some advocating here: doesn’t his professionalism make hobi even sexier? i find that mature and reasonable of him. you can imagine how seriously he’d take a relationship, and he can separate between his different worlds very well. hobi treats being an idol like an idol. 

the prevailing problem is. hobi’s already shown in body focus, that he’s the dance headquarters of bts doesn’t help, and fans can only pick that up, or spin a 2D narrative of him. it’s been discussed often that hoseok handles stardom and self-reveal with more distance, he chooses to protect himself more than the rest. so what i think is that you have problems going past superficial thirst because 

a) hobi hardly shows himself past his performer self by choice

b) the company promotes him that way

c) the fandom can’t go deeper than that either, on what basis. so, his stage presence and thirst potential becomes overhyped instead. 

which is a testament to his talent but also a tale on how you can fetishize someone: as is often pointed out when people only look at hoseok based on how he can grind his hips in choreography omitting everything else about him. it’s because there’s no going further and deeper from either side. it’s agreed upon and part of the game, but it’s also sad that hoseok uses that blank slate to stay safe, or whatever reason is behind it. it’s business right there.

honestly, it IS a strong kind of strategy to prevail and keep your grind. a lot of idols could benefit from having even a tinge of hoseok’s approach to fame. if he becomes less in reach that way but he rather enjoys him image and fans go along and he’s okay with that, it’s something to deal with in a manner of, hey we see the actual point of it. 

he doesn’t have to feel reachable or as vulnerable as other members opt to be, and the idea of hoseok is that he’s the sun in the first place. it does you good but getting so close isn’t the purpose 😉 some people are more meant to shine from way above. you see how namjoon is the moon man, much nearer to earth, revealing itself up close. you get the analogy, and we get back to the first paragraph like this, it always comes down to character after all.

[harmoniouspixels]

Nina Sykes’s Interview

Let’s finally sit her down for this, shall we? Chances are this will not have been closely proofread, so typos and mistakes may be present. Feel free to ask anything about them to clarify! CC: @toxoplasmajuice​

[The In-Character Portion (questions written by Clyde Atkins himself):]

Tell me a little about yourself. Y'know, name, pronouns, age, where you’re from, anything else you might say if I asked you, “Who are you?”

Hiya! The name’s Nina. I’m 19, from a small town named Arcadia Peaks, and I’m currently, er, was studying to become an astronaut. I was also going to run for one of the officer positions at my sorority! I’ll miss those gals.

Before the world ended, did you have any long-term goals? Where would you picture yourself in the future if the future didn’t crumble in front of our eyes?

Like I said, I was looking to become an astronaut! Dabbled with a communication minor before deciding to major in biology and minor in astronomy. Would’ve eventually gotten my masters and prepared for the incredibly rigorous tests you have to go through to become an astronaut.

Any talents or skills? What about hobbies?

[Laughs] does my athleticism count? I’ve been training for so long I can lift about anything, and I hold several track-and-field records. I also love to read, if that counts as a hobby! Same goes for table-top games and going for a run or walk.

If you feel like sharing, what was your love life like before this? Totally fine if you don’t wanna talk about it.

I’d say it was good! I had a boyfriend in high school, but we broke it off after we realized that our lives were heading in different directions. I also dated this lovely woman in my first year of uni. We were the same age, were paired up at orientation, she had gorgeous red hair and was just fun to be around. We broke up at the end of the semester because both of us weren’t feeling the best about continuing the relationship when it felt like there wasn’t a spark.

Besides the sanctuary part, what made you sign up for this BC?

Clyde, duh! He’s cute. Plus with my uni ex, we used to watch BCs all the time. Sure, they can be cheesy, but they look like a lot of fun.

Okay, okay, hot take: this question is fucking stupid. First of all, MMBCs have happened even with this question, so it’s not even protecting anybody. Second, if we really needed this information–or if the network did–there’s better ways to do background checks. You can just lie here. You can literally just lie. Third, it’s just so vague. Sure, if you’ve got some degree of murder on your record, maybe that would be important, but–what, being caught with a gram of weed in the summer of ‘15 is supposed to tell me you might be a murderer? And, most importantly, it blatantly contributes to the stigma against felons. Non-violent criminals, people who’ve changed for the better, people who were falsely accused–we’re basically saying all of them might as well be murderers. And I’m not for that. But the program we’re doing this through is requiring that I ask, so, whatever: do you have a criminal record?

Nope! I don’t have one.

Anyway. Random fact about you?

I DJ a bit on the side! It’s a lot of fun, even though I’m still learning it.

Is there anything important I should know about you? Health-related stuff, ancient curses following you, that sort of thing?

Nope! Well, actually. Sometimes I get really anxious? Nothing diagnosed, but papa* always sad I probably got some of his.

[*Papa refers to Parker. She called Mitchell, her other dad, well, Dad.]

Is there anything or anyone you had to leave behind to come here? (This one’s optional, too.)

My dads and my little sibling. I hope I can see them all again soon.

What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when things calm down and we can leave the BC house again?

I think I mentioned it already! [laughs] But I also want to try and find some of our extended family we’ve lost touch with too. Heard they were going to an island with someone by the name of January Wallace? But that’s all I know.

The Out-Of-Character Portion (questions written by toxoplasmajuice themself):

Usual OOC question 1: may I draw your Sim? (No one’s ever said no to this, but it never hurts to ask, right?)

Hell yeah you can! 8)

Usual OOC question 2: do you have any tips for writing your Sim that you feel the interview and/or your intro post don’t already give me?

While she doesn’t have the charismatic trait, Nina is very outgoing. No matter the person, she can find a way to hopefully click with them, even if it isn’t on a deep level (so like, friendly acquaintances type of deal).

Time for some new, spicy OOC questions! First of all: I want to start decorating contestants’ rooms this time around. Do you have any pointers as to decorating your Sim’s room? General themes are fine, and if you have any specific objects you want me to put in your Sim’s room (EA content or CC), that’d be great.

So I was trying to get inspo, but unfortunately I gave her a white room in the legacy aslglksjda. SO! In rewriting that bit of canon, I’d say colors that pop? Or even some sort of black and white mashup that’s accented with red. Make of this unintended Monokuma what you will.

And for the other new, spicy OOC question: will you generally be around for random questions I have regarding your Sim? I might need random bits of information from everyone from time to time… for reasons. :)

Ofc! I’m always here for building that Lore(TM) and fleshing out my characters more.

[tvnksted]

what’s  poppin  my  dudes  !!  i’ve  gotta  say,  i  haven’t  properly  read  all  your  intros  yet  but  i  have  skimmed  them  and  just  ...,,,  wow  ????  the  Talent  ??  listen  i  am  blown  away.  anyways  to  start  off  my  intro,  a  lil  bit  about  me:  i’m  bee  (  she/her  ),  i’m  from  canada,  i'm  a  second  yr  math  major  so  i  might  not  be  active  every  single  day  (  but  i  do  love  procrastinating  so  we’ll  see  )  and  i  can  probably  quote  the  2005  pride  &  prejudice  off  by  heart.  now  onto  my  boi  ted  !!  not  sure  i  love  love  michel  biel  for  him  but  we’ll  see how  it  goes

* ╰    (  MICHEL  BIEL  ) ┋ have  you  met  (  EDWARD  “TED”  TONKS  )  ?  (  he  ) reminds  me  of  (  boy  forgotten:  oil  on  canvas.  a  remnant  of  softness  in  a  practice-makes-perfect  chrysalis.  snake  skin,  muggle  blood.  a  threadbare  jacket  worn  as  armour,  polished  veneer  marred  only  by  that  chip  on  your  shoulder.  tongue  fluent  in  loopholes  and  sharp  as  sin.  wind-chapped  knuckles  smoothed  by  herbal  lotion,  wind-chapped  lips  sweetened  by  honey  and  apple.  sea  glass  worn  smooth,  turned  over  and  over  in  your  pocket.  black  tea  past  midnight.  cold  fingers,  warm  eyes,  and  a  quicksilver  smile.  the  smoke  of  a  candle  blown  out.  a  skeptic’s  wish.  a  study  in  dichotomy:  are  you  the  wolf,  my  dear,  or  are  you  his  prey  ?  fingers  stained  with  newspaper  ink,  the  first  thawing  of  spring  ice,  and  hand-me-down  hope  you  haven’t  quite  taught  yourself  to  forget.  ).  a  (  twenty  one  )  year  old  (  eleventh  )  year  (  slytherin  ),  the  (  architect  )  is  known  to  be  (  charismatic  &  self-reliant  ),  yet  (  obsessive  &  resentful  ).  that  explains  why  they’re  majoring  in  (  wizarding  law  ).  rumour  has  it,  (  ted  )  is  siding  with  (  the  neutrals  )  in  the  solemn  war  that  blazes  just  beyond  the  horizon. 

pinterest  !

i  was  gonna  write  a  fancy  nice  intro  but  it  was  taking  too  much  time  so  you  get  this  rambly  mess

if  u  get  adam  parrish  vibez  from  this  intro  thats  …,,  very  valid  sdkfsk  he  is  a  large  character  inspo

from  the  moment  edward  tonks  was  born,  he  was  ted.  just  ted.  it  suited  him  better,  the  scrawny  premature  baby  that  he  was,  born  into  a  family  not  made  of  money,  but  something  that  was  equal  parts  desperation  and  love

ted’s  family  didn’t  have  much,  and  they  had  even  less  when  his  dad  left  their  family  when  ted  was  only  ten  for  a  woman  he’d  been  seeing  on  the  side

suffice  to  say  ted  doesn’t  like  his  father  very  much

so  his  mother  was  left  working  double  shifts  bagging  groceries  at  tesco  to  try  and  provide  for  ted  &  his  younger  sister  nora  (  five  years  younger  than  ted  so  she  was  five  when  their  dad  left,  and  sixteen  now  ),  and  ted  helped  out  as  much  as  he  could

when  ted  was  growing  up,  he  was  a  lot  more  creative  &  idealistic  than  he  is  now.  he  used  to  write  a  lot  especially  !  creative  short  stories,  thoughtful  op-ed  pieces,  tongue-in-cheek  poetry,  drawing  inspiration  from  the  most  unlikely  of  places

he  didn’t  grow  up  in  a  super  wealthy  part  of  dublin,  and  so  his  elementary  school  was  underfunded  and  understaffed,  the  teachers  overworked  and  the  students  unmotivated,  but  ted  was  the  kid  who  everyone  expected  to  make  something  of  himself

he  actually  had  some  of  his  writing  published  in  a  young  authors  collection !  wow  go  ted

anyways  and  then  his  dad  left  and  then  hogwarts  happened  and  ted  had  to  deal  with  all  the  shit  that  comes  from  being  a  lower  class  muggleborn  slytherin  and  he  stopped  writing  as  much

he  kept  his  head  high  though,  proud  and  stubborn  as  fuck,  and  kept  his  hand-me-down  uniform  impeccably  ironed  and  washed  and  folded  neatly  in  his  drawer

ted  is  slytherin  as  Fuck  btw.  like  this  isn’t  me  sorting  him  into  slytherin  for  a  Fun  New  Twist  (  well  it  is  but  also  i  couldn’t  see ted  being  in  any  other  house  )

he  is  ambitious  and  clever  and  self-preserving  and  resourceful  and  competitive  and  charming  and  ruthless  and  family-oriented

now  ted  is  tall  and  serious  and  sharp-edged,  a  far  cry  from  the  sickly  baby  he  once  was,  but  the  name’s  still  stuck.  ted,  a  soft  name  from  a  softer  time.  the  only  hint  there’s  still  remnants  of  whimsy  left  in  this  boy

he  was  chosen  to  be  a  slytherin  prefect  and  wears  the  title  with  pride  !  takes  no  shit  but  does  no  harm.  he  especially  keeps  an  eye  out  for  the  few  other  slytherin  muggleborns  at  hogwarts

i’d  think  he’s  probably  pretty  well  liked  at  hogwarts  –  probably  known  for  keeping  a  level  head  and  a  clever  tongue.  he  knows  how  to  make  people  like  him  & uses  it  to  his  advantage

forgive  and  forget  ?  ted  doesn’t  know  her.  resent  and  remember

we  can  see  the  chip  on  your  shoulder  ted

he’s  considerate  and  warm  but  like  …  he  won’t  go  out  of  his  way  to  stand  up  for  muggle  rights  or  anything.  it’s  that  Politics  Mood  where  no  matter  what  he  does,  it  never  seems  to  make  a  difference.  so  in  typical  slytherin  fashion  he’s  just  focusing  on  himself  now,  aiming  to  get  a  cushy  job  in  the  ministry

little  bit  over-focused  on  money  but  that’s  what  happens  when  you  don’t  grow  up  with  it

like  he’d  absolutely  take  a  lucrative  but  boring  job  he  doesn’t  like  over  a  poorly  paying  job  he  loves  (  right  now  at  least  ).  he’s  cynical  like  that.  do  you  think  he’s  taking  wizarding  law  bc  he  enjoys  it  ?  nah.  it’s  for  those  galleonsss

probably  has  had  at  max  one  serious  relationship,  maybe  a  couple  shorter  flings,  but  ted  is  way  too  focused  on  his  independence  to  be  a  good  boyfriend  tbh

idk  why  but  nfwmb  by  hozier  gives  me  strong  ted  vibes  ?

capricorn  sun  cancer  moon

lawful  neutral  in  the  most  slytherin  way  possible.  this  boy  knows  how  to  find  loopholes

intj  as  fuck  !!  i  gave  him  the  label  the  architect  just  cause  i  was  feeling  it  for  him  and  then  just  now  i  was  like  hm  what  mbti  type  is  ted  ?  he  seems  like  an  intj.  and  lo  and  behold  the  mbti  role  for  intj  is  the  architect

he  likes  tea  but  not  coffee

someone  please  make  him  less  cynical  n  teach  him  there’s  still  good  in  the  world

anyways  this  was  rambly  but  pls  love  him

[alabastertouch]

It’s Not Me | I

Characters: Composer!Park Chanyeol x brokenhearted!reader; appearances by other idols

Genre: Angst, Fluff (in the future??? aye aye)

Warning/s: Mentions of a toxic relationship, cursing

Summary: After a songwriter broke your heart, you swore you would never do anything that involves music. But when a desperate composer asks for your kind help, will you change your mind?

A/N: I don’t know what to say... I’ve never written chaptered fics before (okay, I’ve written ten thousand prologues and first chapters and lost inspo) but now I’m doing this! You want Chanyeol, I’m giving you Chanyeol... in many chapters!

Enjoy this read!

story masterlist

“I hate songs,” you mutter as you tune for the news station on the radio. “They’re misleading… always talking about love like it’s all rainbows and butterflies, when in reality, it’s a fucking distress.”

“Jeez, Y/N, what an empowering thing to say to a dancer and a songwriter,” Seulgi rolls her eyes, reminding her purpose in life that you’ve suddenly forgotten.

“Sorry…” you mumble. “It’s just—”

“No need for explanations, babe,” she holds her hand up, halting your oncoming string of apologies. “I get where you’re coming from.”

You do not know how thankful you are of Seulgi for sticking with you throughout the entire mess that had been your life for the past few months. After being the subject of news articles because of Jihoon and your alleged “infidelity,” you’ve been cut out by most people in your life.

“How’s the job hunting going on?” You change the topic, not wanting to linger on your self-pity and hatred.

“Ugh, awful!” Seulgi screams out, putting the list of possible jobs down on the wooden table as she exhales in frustration. “I should’ve thought practically before admitting myself as a Ballet major.”

Seulgi had graduated last year from Kyung Hee University as a major in Dance, specifically in the field of ballet. After taking a minor in music, she had fully cultivated her skills that is supposed to be on stage. Sadly, though, this talent of hers had yet to reach its peak, because she had been struggling looking for a job that matches both her skills and interests.

“It’s what you love, Seul,” you try to bring her up. “You could have been an accountant, but would you love that?”

“I suppose not,” she grumbles, crossing out another item from the listing. “Is the teaching going well?”

“I feel ten years older, Seulgi!” You exclaim, venting out your own share of obstruction.

“Wasn’t it your first day yesterday?” Seulgi asks.

“Isn’t that saying something?” You pout in exhaustion. “Kids are clingy and demanding. I should’ve taken note of that before taking a daycare shift as my first job.”

You and Seulgi can only stare at each other, wallowing in your hopelessness in life.

“I’m sorry about Jihoon,” it was taboo for you and Seulgi to talk about him in your apartment, but the unspeakable needs to be amended. Seulgi had never turned her back against you and believed everything you said in defense of his accusations.

“It’s nothing you nor I could have helped, Seulgi.”

Jihoon had pointed his finger at you and accused you of seeing another man while he was working in the studio. At first you had no idea what he was doing, because you thought he loved you and trusted you entirely. The night he said he saw you out with one of his friends was when you were cramped up at home, searching for a job that would make your ends meet.

Of course, all your friends believed him… Lee Jihoon never ever lies, they said.

He can never hurt you, they insisted.

Guess what, fuckers, he did.

It didn’t surprise you that a week later, he had released a song addressing your break up and being replaced by another man in front of his very eyes, yet saying that he doesn’t to cry over you anymore despite still being in love with you.

Fucking liar. You laugh in disbelief after downing your dose of caffeine. I hope your career flops and you’ll be nothing but a one-hit wonder.

“I heard he’s struggling,” Seulgi’s hint of mockery takes you out of your reverie once again and makes you grin in gloriousness. “He hasn’t come out with a song since Don’t Wanna Cry. No one’s buying his shit anymore.”

“Great,” you cackle. “I somehow feel touched he wrote an amazing song about me.”

“He’s an asshole, but a talented one,” and you had to admit that it’s true. Jihoon always had a gift that he only needed to nurture, and it was innate for him to write something so good in record time. It’s a wonder why he’s on a hiatus right now.

“Anyway, what time does your work end?” Seulgi questions.

“I get off at 4. Why?”

“Come over later to the mall!” She invites you. “Jongin said we have a new product, and if I convince some people to try it out, they’ll raise my pay!”

You begin to shift uncomfortably, because the last time she asked you to come over, Jongin made you taste their cucumber cake and make people believe that it actually tastes good than what it sounds and looks like. You did convince many people to buy it, but with a bout of bathroom trips by the end of the night.

“It’s not food this time!” She strongly denies. “I’m pretty sure it’s some machine, but I promise, no weird food!”

“Fine,” you accept with reluctance. “Just nothing that creates diarrhea, okay?”

“Of course!” Seulgi assures you.

After finishing your microwave mac and cheese, you leave for work, internally preparing yourself to take care of a bunch of five-year-olds who banter physically as much as they can.

Can life get any better?

Yes. Yes, it can.

You descend off the bus, straightening your pencil skirt before entering the mall.

The kids in the daycare had been full of mischief, as usual. One little boy, Bobby, had begun a food fight during lunch that you successfully dodged and left Mijoo to figure out how to stop. She had been fuming afterwards, but let you off since your new.

The aircon hits your face like a gust of wind.

This place reminds you of a better time… one spent with Jihoon during your university days. Seulgi had been working here since then, and you always went to support her on her part time job… thus that same night of toilet papers and buckets.

You ignore the tightening of your chest when you pass by Enrico’s, a pizza place that you and Jihoon frequented. He’d always wait for you inside whenever he finished classes first, and he’d let you listen to some demos he had made. Of course, you always praised him… no pretention was needed since he created amazing compositions every time.

You do not dare to look back anymore, because Jihoon never did. You have no reason to stay in the past… one which he had already long forgotten.

“You came!” You hear someone scream, and you find Jongin in a chicken costume on the shop across. He rushes to you, holding a tray for free-tasting.

“Were you chatting with other workers?” You tease him, smirking. “If Seul finds out, she’ll get heartbroken!”

“N-no!” Jongin sputters, denying strongly. “I was just asking them to get some so I can get out of this damn costume.”

“I thought you love chicken?” You chuckle, joshing him further.

“I love eating them, Y/N. I never aspired to be one!” Jongin is starting to get annoyed with you, and you decide that it’s time to stop messing with him.

“Where’s Seul?” You look around, searching for a certain auburn Hagrid-looking lady somewhere else.

“She’s setting up the new arrivals!” Jongin informs. “I swear, Y/N, this new thing is the bomb! Have you ever heard of home karaoke machines?” He tattles, finally giving off the last piece of his free food.

“Yeah? Jongin, it’s been around for decades!” You shriek. “Is it a karaoke machine?”

“It is! And it is no ordinary karaoke! You can control it with your voice!” He sounds so excited, that it seems to rub on you. He takes the head piece of his costume off and drags you to the electronics store Seulgi works at.

“Hello! Hello! The mic is working!” You listen to Seulgi testing the workability of the karaoke machine. “Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you the Smart Norae! Yay!” She claps excitedly, though she wasn’t able to turn heads with her enthusiasm.

“Well, fu—”

“Hey!” Before she can anything that can get her fired, you call out for her.

“Okay, our star is here!” Seulgi shoves the mic on your hands, hoping it will catch more attention. “Okay, miss, what’s your name?”

You’ve been through all of these tactics. Seulgi always pretends that she has no idea who you are, and that you are just a customer who happened to come by with curiosity.

“I’m Y/N,” you join in.

“Miss Y/N, do you love singing?” You look at your best friend in horror. You just told her how much you hated music this morning, and after promising that you will help her out today, you hadn’t thought that she would make you sing.

“Sure,” you half-heartedly reply.

“Great!” Seulgi jumps. “With Smart Norae, singing has never been easier! You can say the name of the song through this mic and it will play immediately!”

“Really?” You fake your excitement and wonder.

“Yes!” If Seulgi detects your pretense, she doesn’t pay mind to it. “Just push this blue button on the remote control and say the name of the song you want to sing, Miss Y/N.”

You look at Jongin for help, but he excuses himself and heads back to the chicken store which is actually owned by this gadget shop as well.

You have no way out.

“Alright,” you take the remote with hesitance. You think of a song before pressing the blue button.

Your chosen song finally plays through the speaker installed on the karaoke machine, and you can see the guilt worn on Seulgi’s face before you can begin singing.

“On a ripped piece of paper, I wrote down how I really feel and it gets clear, somethin’ bout you…” You get to the melody, hoping that your voice isn’t shaky and not making a total fool of yourself.

“Yeah, you and I are similar but different. Do you feel the same way? I’m getting my hopes up…” Some people begin to stop by and watch, listening to the way your voice is finally mixing into the song.

And soon, your emotion gets ahead of you.

“Not me. It won’t be easy for me. Still, you fill up my days…” You start voicing your heart out, hoping that wherever Jihoon is in this world, he can hear the difference between your heart and his.

A small crowd has gathered behind you, and you check to see their heads banging softly and joining in the music. The emotional lyrics also gather sympathy from some high schoolers, and you can see them holding their chest for emphasis.

“Between the meaningless jokes, back-and-forth conversations and all the people, I look like I’m fine. I pretend to be numb and I try to smile…” You reach the bridge of song, now feeling the constrict in your chest.

This is the last time I’m crying for you, Lee Jihoon.

“Not yet… I tell myself, like a fool. I can’t swallow the words that linger in my mouth. It’s not fine~”

It really is not.

It is not okay how he broke you… How he made you believe that he will never change if he reaches success and how he will never hurt you on purpose. Maybe it was his plan to break you all along, and he’s just waiting for the right time to play the victim and go all out in writing an iconic breakup song.

He may have been successful, but you’re not going to play the broken ex anymore.

You hear a round of applause just after the song finishes… some howling, even, for the emotional performance in the middle of the mall. Seulgi claps unstoppably, and you can see Jongin flapping around in his white rooster costume.

You may have sworn that you hate music, but you can never deny the fact that it makes people smile.

Not now, you think. Maybe I’ll learn to be happy with it, but not now.

“Chanyeol! Yah, Park Chanyeol!” The called turns around to find out what his manager is yapping around.

“What is it, hyung?” Junmyeon catches his breath, holding his cellphone out for Chanyeol to see. “What, are you bragging about your new phone or something?”

“No!” Junmyeon scrolls for something on his phone. “You said Wendy declined the offer for Kyungsoo’s new album, right?”

“Yeah, she said she’s working on her solo,” Chanyeol groans, reminded of the numerous attempts to ask Wendy for her participation on Kyungsoo’s latest EP. He had been given the job once again due to the success of Kyungsoo’s debut, in which he participated in producing. Pressure is off the charts for him, since the said album had sold almost a million copies all over South Korea.

But every single song had been dismissed by Lee Sooman. Even Kyungsoo is trying to come up with something, but the songs were either too bland or monotonous, with no feelings at all.

So, the president suggested a duet instead.

Of course, Kyungsoo is fine with it. Even Chanyeol has no problem working with another singer. The thing: no women are available.

Although there are female singers all over their company, their voices do not match well with Kyungsoo’s baritone. Wendy’s does, but since she is busy with her own activities, she had been eliminated as a choice. Asking a singer from another company would be the last option, and Chanyeol does not feel desperate enough to ask for a singer outside their agency yet.

“I was in the mall a while ago—Aha, I found it!” Junmyeon finally shows Chanyeol the video. “This girl’s voice is a fucking gem!”

The clip opens with an orange-headed girl chirping… possibly a saleslady with her red uniform.

“Hyung, wha—”

“Just listen!” Junmyeon hisses.

“Fine!” Chanyeol takes ahold of the phone. The tune of one of Taeyeon’s songs surrounds, and when the girl opens her mouth, Chanyeol swears he had just lost his own voice.

She belts the notes as well as Taeyeon does.

Chanyeol focuses on her, watching how emotionally driven her performance is. Some people can feel it, he notices, as they sometimes murmur their “aww’s.”

“Hey, is that my song?” Taeyeon enters in the studio after hearing a song she had just released being sung.

“Yes, noona!” Junmyeon answers.

“Whoa…” When the bridge of the song starts, Taeyeon does not hide her impression anymore. “That’s a difficult note to reach!”

Chanyeol disregards the conversation taking place between Junmyeon and Taeyeon and only basks in the amount of love you may have felt for the person you are singing the song for, if there was ever one.

The song finally finishes, earning applause from the other two people in the room.

“Chanyeol, this girl sounds amazing,” Taeyeon pats his back. “And I think you’ve finally found the person Kyungsoo can sing with.”

Taeyeon’s doesn’t mix well with Kyungsoo, because hers is too high for him to belt. This girl’s however, is an alto who can blend well with his adlibs.

“Hyung,” Chanyeol breathes out. Junmyeon raises a brow, wondering why his boss is suddenly silent and looking melancholic.

“What is it?” Junmyeon queries. Chanyeol had been overbearing these days, always requesting for the most ridiculous things. But his present request isn’t that much too handle.

“We have to look for this girl.”

A/N: Yo, I love Seventeen and Woozi so much! I just thought ‘hey, he’s an amazing songwriter. Why tf not? Yeah?’

And the song used in here is Fine by Taeyeon!

[winetae]

⇁ tessellate (preview)

⇁ jhs x reader x jjk ⇁ preview; 3k (roughly 20% of chapter) ⇁ proofread by otlcat ; inspo from nana ⇁ warnings; cumplay, public indecency (i am sensing a theme here)

Triangles are supposed to be the strongest and most stable of all geometric shapes. You wonder how true this statement is if applied to real life situations. The way you see it: triangles aren’t a reliable structure for relationships, especially if the parties you’re involved with find commitment to be a foreign concept.

↳ or : a fuckboy’s guide to polyamory

Hoseok looks over at you, his amusement hidden by the lack of light. He eyes the crease between your brow as you try your best to keep up with the movie.

“Cute,” he smiles, endeared, hand patting your knee like he’s praising a cat.

With just one touch, your concentration slips once more.

The sudden skin to skin contact jolts your senses awake. The placement of his hand is entirely innocuous... But for some reason it distracts you, luring your focus away from the film. Attention now honed in on the familiar touch, your pulse flutters beneath the surface of your skin. It’s too difficult to block out his presence when you’re now hyper-aware of everything he does. Still—your gaze is unwavering, trained on the movie unfolding in front of you.

Hoseok doesn’t move his hand, instead letting it rest there. As you get used to the weight of his palm on your knee, you start to slowly unwind. Danger seems to pass and your worries fade away for the time being. Stop getting distracted, you scold yourself internally. Why are you getting so worked up over nothing more than a simple touch? You curse yourself for letting him having this much control over you.

Your peace, however, is short-lived; it shatters as soon as Hoseok leans in to whisper into your ear, “Has it been hard to keep my cum inside you, sweetheart?”

You gulp—the sound loud in your ears—all too aware of Hoseok’s warm hand creeping up your thigh.  

“Hmm? Is that why you’ve been so distracted?”

Surely he wouldn’t dare to go there, you panic. But that thought dissipates right away once you remember who you’re dealing with—Jung Hoseok: the textbook definition of fearless and brazen. Your sexual escapades usually happen behind closed doors but you really wouldn’t put it past him to suggest getting it on in the back of a movie theater. In fact, it’s probably something he’s already done before.

Even though you’ve never discussed his previous experiences, the rumors that you have heard paint a pretty clear picture of the activities that have kept him occupied these past four years. Compared to those echoes, he’s been pretty tame with you... although you suspect it’s because he doesn’t want to scare you off. There are times you can tell he’s holding himself back with you in bed and as much as you appreciate the gesture, deep down you’re also curious. How much wilder can it possibly get? Surely, it can’t be any more shocking than having an impromptu threesome, right?

It’s not like you’re a complete novice when it comes to sex, but it’s evident that Hoseok is a lot more experienced in that field. Sex with him is never boring, to say the least. He just knows more and it shows by the way he figures out your weak spots in a flash, pushing you towards the edge with every word and touch. His experience doesn’t intimidate you like it used to in the beginning. You actually feel a lot more comfortable being with someone who knows what he’s doing. There’s a lot less worrying on your part now that you’re certain the guy you’re with won’t “mistake” your asshole for your vagina...

In all honesty, all your previous experiences can’t compare to anything you’ve done with Hoseok. They don’t even come close. Before, sex was awkward and mediocre at best but with Hoseok, every time is a new experience. He makes you insatiable. During lunch breaks, after his dance practice, before your morning lectures—basically anytime your schedules match up—you two always end up entangled in each other, going at it like a pair of hormonal teenagers. Because of him you often find yourself thinking ‘is too much sex unhealthy’? Not that you would mind having ‘death by Jung Hoseok’ writing on your grave... because what a way to go. The sex is so satisfying you don’t realize that it’s practically all you’ve been doing with Hoseok.

Up until now, that is.

You’re ecstatic that he had suggested taking you out on an actual date instead of getting you to suck his cock in the parking lot of your apartment complex. It’s not that you’re opposed to sucking him off, you’re just excited to finally do things together as a couple. As cheesy as this may sound, you’ve been hoping to get to do things as simple as holding hands or sharing milkshakes at the local diner. You can easily remember how giddy you had been when he had asked if you wanted to go see a movie instead of the regular Netflix and chill scenario. But now that you’re actually here, you regret agreeing to this idea. Not because the CG fails to impress you, but because it’s impossible to concentrate on a damned thing when you’re too busy trying to prevent his cum from leaking out of you.

You should have known he would try something like this... Not that you have any room for complaints. Before heading over to the cinema, he had made you fall apart twice on his cock in the back of his car. You had barely had time to smooth over your clothes and attach your mussed up hair back with a tie, before he had ushered you out of the car, a satisfied little smile settled deep on his face. “Think you can be a good girl for me and keep it all in?” You’re not sure what made you mewl your agreement against his chest, but you’re starting to have second thoughts about it now.

As his fingers inch in closer to your underwear, you clench your legs tight together, worried that he’ll find the wet spot marked by his cum. It’s hard to keep your core muscles clenched for this long and the more distracted you are by his wandering hand, the more your control slips through your fingers.

“What are you doing?”

Surprisingly, your voice is steady. Your poker face, on the other hand, still needs work; Hoseok’s chuckle in the crook of your ear proves that he isn’t fooled by the front you attempt to put up.

“Remember what I said? I don’t want you getting bored when we both paid to have a good time.”

It takes a moment for your brain to register the meaning of his words but when they do, you have to physically bite down a gasp. His slender digits massage the sensitive skin of your inner thighs in small circles and you can't help but freeze up with anticipation.

You should definitely not be letting him feel you up in a public place like this. Not only because it’s indecent, but knowing Hoseok, you’re sure doing this will quickly lead to more. You’re not ready to be dragged out by security but you’re also aware that your rationality can melt away when faced with your boyfriend’s charms. Sure, he isn't doing anything improper at the moment but next thing you'll know, he'll have both hands grabbing your hair like reins of a horse, guiding and controlling the pace as you struggle to take him into your mouth without making too much noise. You’ve been down this road before so you know how fast things can escalate between the two of you.

"I bet your little cunt is filthy wet, isn’t it? If I look now, I’ll find you swollen and messy from my cum." Hoseok croons, the lilt in his tone telling you that he already knows the answer. “I keep seeing you squirm in your seat. Did I give you too much? Is that why you can’t stay put, sweetheart?”

Just to prove him wrong, you shake your head in dissent, glad that the dark of the room hides the embarrassed flush that colors your cheeks. At once, his fingers stop tracing patterns on your thighs, his hand sliding back up to rest on the bare skin of your knee. You don’t expect to miss his teasing already, but you know he wants to hear you admit how well he’s wrecked you and how much you desire for more despite that. Regret floods you, but your meager pride keeps you from asking him to resume.

The movie is now long forgotten, your gaze fixed on his hand instead. It would be so easy for him to continue his ministrations, your skirt giving him easy access to your slick heat. Your mind flicks through several scenarios, each more crude than the last. You think of him sliding down to the floor to bury his head in between you thighs, his talented tongue swiping over your clitoris while his fingers help keep his cum inside of you. It’ll be hard to keep it from dribbling onto the red seat of the movie theater, especially if he allows you to reach your peak. You suspect he would be aware of this fact... Would he leave you right on the edge? Or would he goad you into making a mess on the chair? Either way, the thoughts make your head dizzy with want. Your skin feels hot, the blood in your veins starting to burn up with arousal.

It’s not a secret that keeping his cum inside you turns you on. No matter what you do, it’s impossible to forget, even for a second, that you’re stuffed full to the brim with his cum. The feeling is sticky and a little gross, but being in public like this gets you worked up for some reason. You’re surprised you’ve been able to sit still for the better part of an hour but now the effects are starting to take hold.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, trying to get his attention without alerting the couple in front of you.

Thankfully, you’re both sitting up in very the back of the room, huddled into a corner. People are less likely to notice if you decide to make-out during a fight scene but your seat choice doesn’t completely exclude the risk of having someone turn around if you make too much noise.

Hoseok pretends to be engrossed with the film, “Hmm?”

“Please, I can’t.” Your voice is small. It physically pains you to voice out your desire in words but you know you don’t have much of a choice. One of the things Hoseok enjoys the most is when you admit to all your desires verbally. You had never been very gifted with dirty talk but the stuttered confessions he manages to pull from your lips turn him on more than anything else.

“Can’t what?”

Arousal pulses down your spine at his tone. You love it when he’s stern with you. His face is impassive, a bored look marring his features. When Hoseok gets like this, the startling contrast from his usual high-spirited personality fires up something within you: the desire to please in order to get a reaction from him. You find yourself doing ridiculous things you would usually shy away from just to see his mask crack. There’s something infinitely satisfying about breaking his straight-faced facade. His reactions are almost as rewarding as any orgasm he can give you—the pleasure evoked by his praise not negligible by any means.

So you know exactly what Hoseok expects from you. You know that he wants you to tell him exactly what you need—it’s the only way he’ll grant you relief. But no matter how many times you two fuck, admitting your desperation is never an easy feat. Still—the desire to please him overrides any of your discomfort.

“I can’t keep it in!”

You want to crawl into a ball from the shame your words provoke. Heat blooms on your cheeks when you realize how obvious the needy whine in your voice sounds even to your own ears.

Shutting your eyes close, you want to erase your presence from the scene. Beneath the dark of your eyelids, it’s easier to pretend that there aren’t dozens of strangers around you. It’s easy to pretend you and Hoseok are alone back in the privacy of his room. But if there’s one thing you’ve discovered about yourself since you’ve been with him, it’s that your orgasms are always more powerful whenever you sneak around with the risk of getting caught by someone. Hoseok knows this and doesn’t hesitate to exploit this weakness in order to heighten the pleasure during sex.

“Are you going to let it drip out, then?” he scolds, fingers digging into the skin of your knee as punishment. He ignores the low whine of protest, continuing, “Do you really want everyone to know what a naughty girl you’ve been?”

His words seem to wrap around you—choking you in their hold. He can probably see your desperation written all over your face but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, his fingers slither under the hem of your skirt, his intentions all too clear when you suddenly feel him pressing against your covered mound.

“Hoseok,” you plead quietly, thighs rubbing together in the hopes of soothing your pressing arousal.

“Feet apart,” he hisses, “and stay still. Be good now.”

You legs spread open slightly to allow him better access. It’s hard not to squirm from his ministration; even with the layer of your underwear, you feel more sensitive than usual.

Lips pursed with concentration, he prods between your folds, trapping the cotton of your panties in between them. You feel the material rub against your bundle of nerves in the process and you have to bite your lower lip to prevent any sounds from spilling from your mouth. You know you have to stay quiet—if you make too much noise someone might spot Hoseok’s hand shoved up under your skirt, his fingers dragging up against your underwear. You can imagine their scandalized expressions, but the image only makes you shift your hips to offer Hoseok easier access.

The slow rub of his fingers is maddening but you know better than to rush him. If you say something now he might stop completely and that’s not a possibility you want to envision. If you behave well enough he might finally grant you the release you want so much. With this in mind, you dig your fingernails into your palm—the bite of pain distracting you from the torturous pace he’s set.

What you don’t expect is for him to slide two fingers into your core, pushing the already damp material of your panties inside in the process. Glad that onscreen shouting masks your audible gasp, you grip his wrist in warning. Your eyes are blown open in panic, the thrill of doing something so obscene making your blood boil, shivers raking down your back.

Hoseok grins at your reaction, pupils dilated as he crooks the digits inside you as much as he can. He doesn’t pull them out but instead moves his fingers around, trying to get as much of his seed to soak through the cotton underwear. With every curl of his digits, you can feel the drag of the cotton against your walls, the friction so good but not nearly enough pressure to bring you over the edge. You involuntarily spasm around him, your walls trying to pull him in deeper, urging him to go harder.

“I can smell myself inside you.” You suppress a shudder as his hot breath fans your cheeks, the words inflaming the lust that courses through your body. “Fuck, sweetheart, it’s dripping out everywhere. You just couldn’t hold it in, could you?”

The tone is slightly condescending, sparking something in your chest. Huffing indignantly, your eyes narrow. If anything, you’re not to blame—if he hadn’t teased you, if his fingers weren’t currently lodged between your thighs—you would not be reduced to a shaking mess in the back of a movie theater.

“Well, I wonder whose fault that is.”

Your sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed.

Hoseok’s jaw clenches, nostrils flaring, and presses his thumb into your clit. Your insides twitch, clamping down on the long digits still inside you. It’s getting increasingly hard to keep everything inside from spilling out; in fact, you can feel some of it trickling out onto his hand despite your best efforts. At this rate you’re worried it might make a small puddle on the seat. How will you explain the stain? Everybody who walks past it will see and know that you’ve been partaking in scandalous activities in the back of the room.

The risk of getting caught always makes things hotter—there’s no denying that—but the thing is you know you’ll be caught if you keep this up. Is the sexual gratification really worth it? You try to stay logical, weighing the pros and cons of your situation. Hoseok takes note of your expression and a noise of irritation rumbles in his chest. He’s so close you can feel the vibrations against you, the sound going straight to your swollen clit.

Removing his fingers from your slick heat with ease, he tugs the hem of your skirt up so as to get a better view of his work. With his free hand, he widens the stance of your legs until you’re completely exposed to his stare. The navy colored fabric of your panties is completely ruined, sodden by the combination of your juices and his. Some of it dribbles past the fabric, wetting the insides of your thighs and dripping down onto the seat below you.

Hoseok’s eyes darken even more, seemingly entranced by the sight. Although he’s never explicitly stated why he’s suddenly into marking you with his cum, you’re pretty certain it’s because of what transpired that night. You’re not against it but his newly discovered cumplay kink keeps ruining your supply of underwear... You’ve lost count of how many pairs you’ve had to throw away because of his stains and judging by the looks of it, you’ll have to part with this pair as well.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“But... We can’t just lea—”

“Do you really want an audience when I fuck my cum back into your needy cunt?” He raises an eyebrow at you while he waits for your answer.

🙃🙃🙃🙃

[sunshinemiranda]

Understudy - Jasmine Cephas Jones x Reader

Summary: Based on a request I received, reader is the first female to play Alexander Hamilton, but is an understudy. Lin gets sick, giving Jasmine a great opportunity to make her feelings obvious to the protagonist.  

Warnings: Few swear words, allusion to smut. 

Word Count: 2,315 (I planned this way shorter and it just EXPLODED)

Request: @lawnmowerswig - Okay so I know I just gave you a prompt a little while ago (and it was amazing btw. You’re great man!!) but like Jasmine man.. Where like a girl plays Hamilton for the night and they kiss and it leads to more and ends with like half naked cuddles???

A/N: Okay so I SUCK majorly because I haven’t posted in forever because my writer’s block has been absolutely killing me, but here is me delivering on a request that I got embarrassingly long ago, I am so sorry it took me so long. This helped me push past my lack of inspo, so I’m ready for the Hamwriters Write-A-Thon! 

askbox | masterlist

The truth is, it was hard being Alexander Hamilton. Actually, to be more specific; it was hard to be the first female playing Alexander Hamilton. The idea itself had been a rock thrown into a pool of still water; plenty of ripples were created. The enthusiastic fanbase that had grown into a cult following of the musical had mixed feelings about this. Some were ecstatic. Others were less impressed.

When Lin-Manuel Miranda had approached you with the proposition of a part in his show, you had assumed that he was considering you for the role of a Schuyler Sister. Instead, he said the two words that happened to ring with both the importance of the title, and the opening number itself:

“Alexander Hamilton.”

“You’re kidding.”

He, indeed, was not.

In the end, you got over your shock and realized that this was not only the chance of a lifetime but an opportunity that would possibly define your career for good. It would be a shame, for lack of a better saying, to throw away your shot. After all, it was only an understudy gig. Who ever heard of the lead role needing a day off?

That idea was scrapped when a week later, Lin-Manuel fell sick and the part was left to his dear, dear understudy who was very much afraid and very much female. The world was about to see the first woman play Alexander Hamilton.

So here you were, listening to the five-minute call on the loudspeaker as you stuffed your limbs into your costume, hair slicked back into a ponytail with a mic peeking through. A gentle knock sounded at the door, and you called behind you without looking.

“Come in!”

“Five minutes to first positions and you don’t even have your whole costume on? Tsk, tsk, (Y/N).”

Jasmine Cephas Jones giggled, and it was a sound you were sure to move mountains and part oceans for. The moment you had heard the cheerful lilt of her voice, you had whipped around, eyes wide as you pulled at the buttons under the white ruffle at your collar.

“You want some help?” She smiled.

Unable to form real words (the phrase, “struck by her beauty”, came to mind), you simply nodded and she surged forward, doing up the buttons with ease and reaching for the overcoat to sling over your shoulders. She was close enough for you to be able to see the shadow her eyelashes cast, the focused way her brow dipped. God, you wanted to kiss this woman so bad.

She tucked the overcoat around you, straightened out the sides and stepped back, inspecting her work. Satisfied, she tossed you another smile and went to leave but your voice stopped her.

“Jasmine!”

“Yeah?” She looked up quickly, eyes shining with a bit of hope.

A beat passed.

“Thank you.”

She smiled again. It was like the sun had kissed her teeth. “Anytime.”

The moment she was gone, you let your head fall into your hands. So maybe, just maybe, you were a little in love with Jasmine Cephas Jones. You had stopped trying to deny it a long time ago, but there was no express moment where it struck you, no eureka or sudden epiphany where the entire world blinked, in neon signs: You! Are! Whipped!

It was a slow kind of tingle, actually, like numbing kicking in at the dentist. At first it was noticing little pieces of Jas; the way her hair framed her face when it was down, the way her hair looked pulled back, the curve of her jaw. Then, as that same numbing started to freeze parts of you, it was more than just noticing. It was remembering. You knew why her favourite type of jam was strawberry, you knew that she hated scarves made out of scratchy wool; you knew that when she was a couple minutes late, it was because she had stopped at her favourite bagel place. You remembered the things that seemed trivial to outside eyes, but were pieces of an entire other world in your perspective. Further numbing allowed your heart to skip every time she laughed at your joke, made your stomach tumble into a flurry every time she brushed her hand against yours, reduced you to a pile of shaky limbs during Say No To This. Before you knew it, everything had been numbed and there was no going back now. Jasmine was the strongest and most powerful working anesthetic on the market.

Thinking of Say No To This got your brain to kick-start itself back into work mode. Hurrying out the door, you nestled yourself into the wings at your starting position just as the stage manager mentioned the one minute warning. The show was about to start, and a female Alexander Hamilton was about to take the Richard Rogers audience by storm. A familiar beat started as the lights dimmed and Leslie stepped out onto the stage. Your heart stuttered with nerves but the steeliness of your resolution told you that there was no going back. You would do this, and you would do it right. Show time.

The first half was exhilarating. You had no idea where all this adrenaline and energy had been storing itself but it had burst from every fingertip the moment you had stepped on stage. The audience had burst into applause. So far, the first female Hamilton was more than a success. Sweaty from the combination of stage lights and choreography, you slipped between people back stage, water bottle in hand as you headed back to your change room. As ensemble and cast members alike mingled, they congratulated you with sweet and supportive remarks, to which you replied with a beaming grin.

That smile dropped off your face when you opened the door to your room and saw Jasmine waiting, propped on a chair. She stood immediately when she caught sight of you, blushing.

“Hi! Sorry. I just wanted to come and say that you did great. Really, (Y/N),” she smiled, hands folded together. “You were amazing.”

You managed to let out a choked chuckle, blushing at her praises. “Thank you. God, I thought I’d mess up during Farmer Refuted. I definitely mumbled a good number of those lyrics.”

She laughed, a really, full-bellied good laugh. It made your skin tingle in the best way. “You made it. Besides, the audience loves you already.”

You sat down at the mirror, touching up make-up that had been melting under the stage lights for a while. She stood and moved to the door but your voice stopped her for the second time that night.

“Hey. If you’re not, like…busy with other stuff backstage, you can stay? If-If you want.” Cursing yourself for the stuttered words, you bit your lip, chewing mercilessly.

“Yeah! I mean, yes! Yes, I’d like that.” Jas grinned, flopping down onto the couch with a grand gesture.

The tension eased away after that, melting like ice and by the time the too short intermission had ended, you had all but fallen head over heels for the girl. As the second act came into place, the nerves you had fought before the show had started its first half came back with a viciousness that surprised you. Then you realized that Say No To This was fast approaching. A kiss with Jasmine was fast approaching. An embrace with Jasmine, a moment with Jasmine, and oh god, Jasmine sitting on your lap was fast approaching.

Holy fuck.

So caught up in your thoughts were you, that you barely managed to struggle through the first three numbers of Act Two. The familiar cello hit you in the chest, almost taking the breath out of your lungs with the impact. It was happening.

She was so beautiful. You had known that from the moment you had met her but on stage, in her element, she just glowed. It was clear to you now that the word “talented” could not come close to doing her charisma and abilities justice. For once, you understood why Alexander Hamilton had been so awestruck with Maria Reynolds.

Her mouth was warm and soft as you kissed her. The world was spinning and the voices of the ensemble were thankfully able to break you out of your stupor. She was staring back at you with half-lidded eyes and your entire body shivered visibly.

The rest of the act went well but there was a part of your brain that was cycling through three things: Her mouth moving against yours, the way she had felt against your body, warm and real, and her lipstick on your mouth.

Bowing through several curtain calls with a satisfied grin on your face made you feel invincible. The audience was applauding and they were applauding for you. You had made it into this musical and not just “replaced” whom people really wanted to see, but became someone the public was glad to have attended for.

The crew backstage showered you with praise and congratulations, making several jokes about pushing Lin out of the show in favour for the new and improved Alexander Hamilton. Jasmine only smiled at you. A flash of the way she had looked, pressed up against you, flew into your mind and your face burnt with a harsh red.

Swept up with the crowd of celebratory dancers and singers, you submitted and let yourself be dragged out to the club and even downed a couple shots at that. Through the flashing lights and pounding bass, you weaved between sweaty bodies on the dance floor and bumped straight into Jasmine. She had flushed cheeks from the combination of warmth and a few drinks, but offered you a lazy smile and, without another word, took your hand and led you to the dance floor.

Jas’ arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you close, while your heart stuttered that same beat it always did when she was around. Some trashy top forty song was playing but it didn’t matter because you were dancing with her. And not just dancing. She was pushing her hips insistently against yours, eyelashes fluttering as she looked up at you. Your hands found their way to her hips, matching her beat for beat and push for push. Gravity was changing. She was moving closer and so were you. An inch of space left between your mouths, a moment hung in the air as the both of you stopped dancing, utterly frozen.

“If you asked me to kiss you right now,” you murmured. “I would.”

A beat passed. Then another. And another.

“Kiss me.”

That is exactly what you did. This kiss was not like the sparkling one you had shared on stage, no, this one was hungry. She was kissing you with a passion and insistence that delighted you to your very core, and you responded just as fervently. By the time you pulled away, both your lips were swollen and she was breathing hard.

“So,” you managed, a little lamely. Your head was still dizzy from the thought of her mouth on yours.

“(Y/N), I swear to God if you don’t take me home right now, I will rip your clothes off right here-“ Jasmine’s voice cut into your sentence hard and your eyes widened.

“As much as that idea appeals to me, my place is much better for ripping clothes.” You grinned, taking her hand and pulling her out the door.

She kissed you as you waited for a cab, smiling as you stumbled to meet her lips, then kissed you again in the back of the cab, hand tracing up your thigh and thumbing at the hem of your skirt. Jesus Christ, this woman would be the death of you.

Once the door was pushed open as quickly as possible and clothes were fumbled off, the tempo of her kisses and the rhythm of her touch slowed. It was as if she realized that this didn’t need to be rushed. It was okay to take time. And God, you were only too happy to agree. Four times, she proved, that night, just how much she appreciated you.

The sight of her, flushed and lacking all clothing on your bed was truly a sight to behold and as you held her close, chest rising and falling as you tried to regain your breath, your mind was running mad.

What if she wanted a simple one-night stand? What if this was the last time you could hold her like this, vulnerable and happy and so wonderfully close. She seemed to notice.

Reaching up, she pressed a kiss to your jaw and smiled lazily. “What are you thinking about?”

Your thumb brushed against her shoulder, rubbing a pattern of circles. “Well…you, actually.”

Jas grinned, reaching to cup your face with her hand. “That would be sweet if your expression didn’t look so sad. What’s wrong?” Her grin turned into a softer smile and the concern in her voice made your heart ache.

“It’s just…I don’t want this to be a one time thing. Jasmine, I…I really like you, and I would understand if you didn’t-“

“I’m in love with you.”

You nearly missed what she’d said in your hurry to finish your sentence.

“Wait. What?”

“I’m in love with you, you dork.” She laughed. “I have been for a while, God, I am so happy you were Hamilton last night. I really needed an excuse to kiss you.”

“I-I love you too,” you managed, a huge grin spreading on your face.

“Oh, you better.”

There was no need to want a picture of this moment anymore, because this wasn’t the last time you would see her in your arms. There was no feeling scared, or regretting a thing. It was pure and open happiness, it was so undeniably Jasmine that you wondered how in hell you had survived without her before.

[steelmistsrp]

Congratulations && welcome, Riley !!  You have been accepted for the role of The Reformed: Dorien Teniert.  Please be sure to make a separate blog for your character && send it into the main within 48 hours !!  Once that is submitted we will invite you to join the OOC blog && an option to join our skype chat if you should so choose !!  Any triggers you (and other applicants) have submitted have been added to our trigger list.  Please be sure to read our Welcome Checklist as you begin to get started.  The Follow List && OOC page will also be updated for you once your blog has been submitted.  Thanks again for you application && we look forward to writing with you !!

Riley, wow !!  Dorien is a gem.  I (Cori) have a particular attachment to this skeleton and you really captured what I had hoped for them !!  We all were sucked in by your opening sentence alone, but your inspo pictures && social media compilations really sealed the deal.  The faceclaim adjustment is totally fitting, and we can’t wait to see Dorien grow && shape as he struggles with his new life at the precinct.  We hope to get you a corrupter && other Word members soon !!. Thanks && Welcome !!

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

Name: Riley Age: 21+ Pronouns: he/him Timezone: GMT Activity Level: I tend to prefer to write paras (short to medium to long, depending on the setting) and although I can’t access tumblr in work I tend to write my replies in Microsoft word and post them at home. I generally post daily or every few days at most. I’m off work Wednesdays and weekends so I’m available then as well.

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Skeleton Name:  The Reformed Character’s Full Name:  Dorien Teniert Faceclaim: Jeremy Jordan Gender and Pronouns: cisgender male, he/him Sexuality: Bisexual  Age and DOB: 28 years old, 12th Doxil 524AC Education Level:  Higher

Biography:  

It seems almost ironic to think about it now, the fact the baby Dorien was dumped on the doorstep of the Constabulary only to grow up to be a criminal. He never knew his birth parents. As a child, growing up between the system and the streets, he used to imagine them, create fantasies in his mind about some rich house coming to claim him as their long lost child and give him everything he ever wanted.

What he actually got was something far more sinister, though Dorien didn’t realize it at the time.

An angry and desperate child, he often got by performing minor acts of thievery and violence. He was able to increase his senses in the dark, see and hear things others could not, feel the vibrating footsteps that made their way toward him far enough in advance to get away, and the first person to catch him in spite of his gifts was someone who would go on to change Dorien’s life forever.

A waste, the person had called him; an untapped talent. They offered Dorien the world, when up until then, Dorien had barely even had his own bed. What sort of homeless boy would say no to being given a place to sleep, an education, and people who could show him how to make best use of his gifts? He said yes after only a brief moment of suspicious hesitation. It had almost seemed too good to be true, and perhaps it had been.

Dorien was given a belief system, a family, a network. He had a natural talent for technology and computers, and so was educated in their use by the finest tutors, schools and eventually University. The only catch was that he had to use his talent to help his new family; The Burning Word. He did it eagerly, desperate to please and determined to be someone who didn’t belong in the gutter any more. He had friends, mentors, and even love. He married another member of their little community and continued spying on their enemies, giving the locations of prominent targets to their assassins, even hacking constabulary systems to warn their people when threats were coming. For a while, everything was great. But greatness came at a cost.

As Dorien grew older, began to communicate with people outside their circle of friends, he began to discover new perspectives. Watching people suffer grew more and more difficult, and being the cause of that suffering became unbearable. For a while, he wanted to believe it was a lie, that someone was Rioting his emotions and making him feel things more intensely than he was supposed to, but that couldn’t possibly be true, and he knew it. The feelings were too consistent to be false.

Just as he’d been as a child, Dorien grew desperate, and he threw himself into the only arms he thought would save him; the arms of the law. Just like the baby that had been dropped on their doorstep, Dorien sobbed in their interrogation room. He broke down. He told them everything. Prison was what he expected, a punishment for what he’d done, but instead he was rewarded for his honesty… and for his connections. Talents and knowledge like his couldn’t go to waste. He’d pay his debt to society in another way – with information.

Dorien resisted the idea at first. He just wanted to be free. He wanted it all to be over and done with. He didn’t even mind a prison cell if it meant saying goodbye to his old life, but life had given him another path. Would going to prison help anyone? Probably not. But helping the constabulary take down The Burning Word would make a difference to each and every person , each and every family that might be hurt by them. He took the job they offered him, accepted their protection and even their money. The Burning Word might have called him a traitor, and once, that might have bothered him, but now, Dorien has grown determined, for the real treachery would be to let people suffer and do nothing.

Personality:

ISTJ: The Logistician

Takes responsibility for his actions and pride in his work

Completes tasks with accuracy and patience

Defining characteristics are logic, dedication and altruism

It is better to be alone than in bad company

Strengths

Honest and direct

Strong willed and dutiful

Adaptable

Weaknesses

Stubborn

Judgemental

Often unreasonably blames himself

Element: Air

Air is the element of speech

Can be entertaining, talkative, spin stories

Sees the big picture

Easily distracted

Animal: Chipmunk

Spunky, energetic, trusting

Often inquisitive and independent

Deeply rooted in observation and detail

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Intellectual

Prefers to stay informed

Productive

Can be creative and loyal

Tropes:

The Atoner

Motor Mouth

The Determinator

Socially Awkward Hero

Playful Hacker

Adorkable

Gadgeteer Genius

In a Nutshell:

Dorien is a primarily analytical person. He likes numbers and facts, he likes having a job to do and being able to follow it through. He’s a bit of a brainiac and can be short with his answers or hyper-focused and quiet when concentrating on something, but is generally an affable, friendly and even playful guy. He tries to make the best of things but he also harbours a deep regret and guilt about his past and that is sometimes heavy on his shoulders. Part of him, a part he tries to quieten, also feels bad for turning on the people who once loved him, like his wife and former best friends. He hopes to create a safer world for himself and everyone around him, and create a ‘found family’ if he’s lucky.

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