#most artists - as much as we complain about it - find joy and exciting in the process of CREATING art

[ralphopacic]

Being a Grandfather; An Interview with Dr. Ralph Opacic

Despite finding great success in his professional career, Dr. Ralph Opacic does not consider it to be his most significant accomplishment. To him, the greatest fulfillment in life is being a parent and a grandfather. Finding joy in giving love and attention to his children and grandchildren, Dr. Opacic takes pride in the close bond they share. Dr. Opacic attributes this kinship, built on open communication and mutual respect, as his proudest legacy. Through intergenerational sharing of experiences, the strong connection between family members molds a welcoming space for his grandchildren. Dr. Opacic believes in nurturing and celebrating children’s uniqueness —the home being the first sanctuary of love and acceptance where they can truly be themselves.

Dr. Ralph Opacic has led a hugely successful working life, bringing the arts to Orange County through three decades of teaching young artists and his eventual founding of the award-winning Orange County School of the Arts (OCSA).  

A childhood dream of working in the arts developed into a lifelong commitment to nurturing the next generation of young artists. His early career as a professional musician took him to California, but Dr. Opacic found his true calling in the classroom. He went on to become choir director at Los Alamitos High School, then later, in 1987, Dr. Opacic secured a state grant to create a world-class arts school led by professional working artists. This legacy exemplifies the achievement any arts educator could aspire to leave behind.

But, in his own words, one of Ralph Opacic’s biggest achievements is being a grandfather to his eight grandchildren. We spoke to him about his life as a grandparent and how it has become one of the most rewarding roles of his life.

“My wife and I raised four beautifully strong, capable daughters. The eldest is in her early forties and the youngest is in her mid-twenties. What makes me proud is that our daughters are very close. Their kids are also very close. It means a lot to me because we’ve created an environment where everyone can embrace a relationship with each other, and even after we’re gone, we’ll forever continue. I do believe that the best legacy you can leave for your family is the ability to create and encourage ongoing and long-lasting bonds.

I think the greatest gift we can give our girls is each other. Our two oldest daughters were in the delivery room when the two youngest were born. One of them even cut the umbilical cord. Now, whenever there’s a ‘big’ birthday, they will all get together and have a sister’s weekend in Vegas. I think it’s fabulous. It’s the same with our grandkids. I believe the greatest gift we can give our grandkids is a place where they can gather, connect, and simply enjoy the experience of being together.

Another thing I love about our four daughters is that they have intergenerational experience. They can get on the phone with each other and complain about us when we’re not being good parents.

Becoming a grandparent

The idea of bringing a grandchild into the world was so exciting. People often joke that what’s great about having grandkids is that you can have them for a day, you can spoil them, and then you can give them back. But I love being around them as much as I can be. The idea of creating that next generation was and continues to be, amazing.

It was important to us to provide a home, a space where the grandchildren could spend time with us and one another. They often ask, before they visit, are their cousins going to be there? If we can create an environment where all our grandchildren can be together, that’s a legacy. My hope is that it will be long-lasting as well, and this house will forever be a home for them, which is precious.

Communication is key to the closeness of our family. We talk to each daughter most days, and our grandkids text me almost daily. We’re a very communicative family, even though our daughters are all so different and following different paths. They’re each experiencing different challenges too. One is living in Nashville pursuing a career in songwriting and music production while another one is working at the Montage Resort in Laguna Beach as an Assistant Manager pursuing a career in hospitality and hotel management. One daughter works for Live Nation, so she’s traveling all over the world with Beyonce and other artists. And the other daughter works in Business Administration. It’s interesting because they’ve all now reached that stage where their challenges and problems are related to their professional lives.

Freedom to be present

We now have eight grandkids, including the first male in the family! He’s now seventeen and captain of the football team. One of the things I love most about being a grandparent is the ability we now have to provide experiences for this new generation that we couldn’t necessarily provide for our four daughters at the time. At one point when raising our daughters, we were working five jobs between us, trying to make it all work. So, to be able to now have the resources to spoil our grandchildren is amazing. It’s really great to be at a place in our lives where we can spend one-on-one time with our grandkids.

Our eldest daughter and her kids lived with us for three years, so we got to grandparent them in our home. It was a blessing to have the opportunity to be part of their day-to-day lives.

A welcoming space

We’ve intentionally made our home a fun and welcoming space for our grandchildren. Our house has a spiral staircase down to a wine cellar which we turned into a camp with a tent, a picnic table, a picnic basket, and an artificial turf. We also put Christmas trees lit up down there and a TV for when the kids come over.

We put treats in the picnic basket every time the grandkids come over and they run right past us and go down the stairs because they know there’s something for them in it. We’ll have the younger kids in the camp downstairs and grown-ups in the kitchen area, and it works great. And we throw them snacks upstairs and downstairs. There’s room for everyone.

One example of the impact a grandparent can have on a child’s life can be summed up in a story my wife told me. When our three grandkids lived with us, Sherry would cook with them. Our grandson was at an age where he could actually participate and make homemade pizzas. He’d become a sous chef, cooking with us, which is something we’ll never forget, and he won’t forget either.

One Thanksgiving a few years later, my wife asked him how he’d learned to cook something and he said, “I learned it from you, Mama.” That, I think, speaks volumes about how close a relationship we had, and continue to have, with all of the grandkids.

My approach to being a grandparent isn’t too dissimilar to my approach to being an arts educator. I wanted to provide accessibility – a space where everyone could embrace their uniqueness, feel included and supported, and create long-lasting connections.”

Built on some of these same principles, the Orange County School of the Arts became a top-tier institution, ranking in the top 3% of California high schools. It was recognized as a model arts education program by the U.S. Department of Education and the National Endowment for the Arts. Dr. Opacic strongly believes that passion, dedication, perseverance, and unwavering vision are the cornerstones of success, embodying the saying ”Talent is hitting a target no one else can hit, vision is hitting a target no one else can see.”

[tf2-hellhole]

can we get some fluffy tf2 headcannons? giving you full creative liberty over this one! :)

Idk if you meant tf2 x reader headcanons or just general head canons, so I did two sections for each merc; the first point is a general headcanon, the second is X Reader.

sorry this took forEEEEEEEEVER, I was just experiencing burnout and working on a prize for a contest on my server (BTW WE HAVE A NEW DRAWING CONTEST GO CHECK IT OUT)

Scout:

Scout is actually really self-concious about his intelligence. He’s not very bright and he knows it, and it makes him feel horrible. He had flunked out of high school and struggled in most of his core classes. He honestly feels really stupid and he hates when people point it out. But luckily for him, a lot of the other mercs understand what it’s like to be looked down upon and empathize with him. Quite a few of them help him relearn the skills he never mastered in school. Engie helps him with math, Spy sometimes helps him with writing, and even Pyro has him read children’s books to them to improve his reading.

Scout absolutely loves little casual dates. Stuff like going out to eat lunch, going to the movies, maybe just cuddling up in his quarters and watching a movie. He tries to plan one every week. His dream date is taking you back to Boston to meet his family and go to a Red Sox game. But obviously, since you’re both in New Mexico at the time, he’s going to have to shelve that dream for a few years.

Soldier:

Soldier is an excellent raccoon dad. At first, the other mercenaries thought they’d all end up dead by the end of the month when he first found them. But surprisingly, they are are very well cared for. They’re all fed regularly and basically have his entire assigned quarters to themselves. He loves every single one of them dearly, even the ones that hiss and scratch him every time. The raccoons, at least some of them, are kind of like weird, quiet dogs, and actually get along pretty well with most of the other mercenaries.

Soldier is a surprisingly very physically affectionate partner, and he’s not at all opposed to PDA. He loves hand holding, cheek kisses, cuddles, the whole nine yards. Whenever he’s particularly excited, he loves to run up to you, scoop you up into his arms, and press a hard, sloppy kiss to your lips. Of course, he’s careful to not hurt you, but he’s a very intense, emotional guy and he needs to express all that love he has for you!

Pyro:

Pyro is and excellent listener, so they’re a person a lot of the other mercenaries depend on to vent. Demo often comes to them to vent about his emotions, Scout, Sniper, or Medic will rant about what’s bothering them, and even Engineer will talk about his stress. And of course, Pyro doesn’t understand a lot of what is told to them, but they’re still happy to help them feel a little better, and they would happily do it a hundred times over to make their friends feel better.

Pyro has a hobby of baking and making candy/treats, and they love sharing everything they make with you. When they first gave you a treat, you honestly thought it’d be burnt or bad in some other way. But to your surprise, it was amazing! They’re actually and excellent cook, but they just love making sweet things the best. They’ll make you just about anything you could ask for without hesitation, but they’re best at making anything sweet.

Demo:

Demo obviously has the potential to pretty emotional when he’s drunk, there’s no doubt about that. But on the off-chance that he’s sober, he’s actually pretty sweet and considerate. Though he still is a rough-housing joker, he’s much more considerate of his friends’ feelings and has deeper and more meaningful conversations with them. He often likes to go to bars with his friends and co-workers on ceasefire weekends, having lots of fun conversation, drinking together, and generally causing chaos around town.

Demo, to put it simply, doesn’t like himself. He’s critical of everything, from his skills to race, because people have always put him down about them. His mother told him he’s lazy and unskilled too many times to count, just everyone makes fun of his eye, and many have made fun of his skin color. But you make him feel so much better about himself. Just the fact that someone so kind and gorgeous is actually with him makes him feel like he’s not as horrible as he thought. There’s been a couple of times where you’ve accidentally almost brought him to tears with a sweet compliment or show of affection, because he never thought in a million years that someone would love him and care for him like you do. He feels so blessed that he has someone like you.

Heavy:

I know the fandom’s decided that Engie is the Team Mom and makes the food, but I also think that Heavy cooks a lot too. He makes all of his own food, so he often makes a lot of extras to feed the team because a lot of them just eat junk food and Medic’s always complaining about their eating habits. Heavy often takes like half the food for himself (he does have a huge appetite and loves food, so he likes to take a lot) and just boxes up the leftover portions and leaves them in the fridge for the team to take. He says he’s only doing it because they can’t work properly if they’re unhealthy, but he also does it because he cares about their health. A little bit.

At first, you wouldn’t think Heavy’s the most cuddly guy. But surprise, he actually loves giving and receiving physical affection. He just doesn’t show it often out of respect for your boundaries, and doesn’t do it around others. His absolute favorite thing is to cuddle you against his chest. Sometimes it’s when going to sleep, or cuddling on the couch, or maybe just a quick hug. He just loves the feeling of your head resting against his chest and your arms trying (and failing) to wrap around his torso. It makes him feel like you’re safe. Nobody could ever get you when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

Engie:

You’d think Sniper’s the only nature nerd on the team, but Engie absolutely loves the outdoors, as well as animals. It’s because his father would often take him out camping every couple of months. It was often the only time he would get 1-on-1 time with his usually very busy father. So he does love the great outdoors, especially that of his home state. He especially loves animals. He was raised on a farm and helped take care of lots of injured wild animals with his mother. He absolutely loves pets and would like to have many when he retires. His dream is to have is own ranch, with horses and cows and a bunch of dogs and the whole shebang.

Engie absolutely loves playing the guitar, so of course he loves playing for you. He learns all sorts of sweet love songs to sing to you. He’s an excellent player and actually has a pretty decent singing voice (think Johnny Cash, he kinda has that singing style). I hope you like country music, because that’s all he’s going to sing to you until you give him some requests or he finds out your favorite artists or genres. You can tell how happy he is every time he gets to surprise you with a new song he learned, and he’d be a giddy, laughing mess if you sang along with him.

Medic:

You’d think this guy takes horrible care of his birds because of the environment he keeps them in, but his birds are actually exceptionally well cared for. He buys them only the best and most expensive bird food, gives them super high-quality water with vitamins n stuff in it, takes them to the vet regularly, the whole shebang. Yeah they get a little dirty from sitting around in his lab, but he always gives them a little bath at the end of the day to get all the blood and guts off.

Medic is honestly such a playful partner. Of course, around his co-workers he’s a little more professional; he still gives you soft touches, a kiss on the cheek, or a big smile, but that’s about it. In private, however, he’s such a sweetheart. He’s always sweeping you up into big hugs, kissing all over your face, and calling you all sorts of adorable nicknames in a variety of languages. It comes as a surprise, because you’d think he’d be a little more formal, but that’s really only for special occasions. It honestly brings him so much joy to have someone like you by his side, and every day he’s going to make sure you know just how grateful he is to have you in his life.

Sniper:

Sniper is an incredibly independent and self-sufficient man, but he’s also secretly a real mama’s boy. He loves his parents dearly and has a particularly close relationship with his mother. As well as sending them money every month, he sends them all sorts of gifts, letters, postcards, and souvenirs. He also makes sure to call them regularly. He goes home every couple of months to visit them, and one could see that he loves helping around the house and chatting with his parents. His mother loved gardening, so his number-1 favorite thing to do is help her in the garden.

Despite Sniper’s obvious lack of knowledge on self-care, he takes a lot of time out of his day to make sure you are happy, healthy, clean, and well-fed. He doesn’t hound you like a helicopter parent but he likes to ask how you’re feeling, if you’re hungry, stuff like that. It feels nice to know you’re taken care of or take care of you himself. If you switch it around and try to take care of him, however, he’s honestly baffled as to why you would care so much as to make sure he’s doing well. He does absolutely love the affection and attention he gets out of it though, it makes him feel loved.

Spy:

I’ve mentioned this before, but I have a head canon that Spy has a dog. Her name is Charlotte, and she’s an elderly Chihuahua. One would think he’d buy a French breed, but he found her out in the pouring rain one day and fell in love with her fluffy ears and spunky personality. She’s now 17 years old, extremely frail, missing most of her teeth, and extremely aggressive to anyone other than Spy, but he loves her dearly and pays for all of her medical expenses without batting an eye. And of course, she expresses her thanks with lots of kisses.

Spy loves dancing, and knows all kinds of dances, from flamenco to ballroom dancing to the Charleston to, canonically, disco. So of course, he’s dying to share all of the most romantic dances he knows with you. He’d love to actually teach you how to dance, rewarding you with kisses every time you finally get a move right and laughing softly when you make mistakes. But in reality, he just wants to use it as an excuse to dance with you against his chest and smother you in affection.

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 2

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 5.2k

Masterlist

A/N: o my god i did not expect so many people to have read the first part… even if only one person reads im still happy :D anyways heres the second part (i swear bang chan wont just be a side character later on hhahaha)

The insistent beeping of the alarm on your phone was what first woke you up from your dazed sleep. Your head still pounded from the night before, and frankly, you were ready to get fired for an extra five minutes of sleep. Tapping the ‘cancel’ button on your phone, you flipped over head down on your pillow to find the beautiful dreamland you were in. However, after just five more minutes, the triggering beeping of your backup alarm took you out of your slumber again, this time really waking you up. 

You trudge towards your bathroom, still dreading the day, on your way to take a shower. Thankfully, the steam from the warm shower combined with the fragrant smell of your conditioner slightly woke you up and dampened the aching in your head. 

Being drastically more awake than before, you made your way over to your kitchen to prepare breakfast. You opened the fridge, mind blank, just staring at the empty shelves. I seriously need to do some grocery shopping, you thought before grabbing an egg. 

You struggled to turn on the stove, not knowing which knob correlated to which burner. Turning a random one, you flinched when an excessive amount of fire appeared. However, after an embarrassingly long amount of time, you finally figured out the stove. Why are there still gas range stoves when electrical stoves exist? You wondered. 

You looked at the sad cooked egg in front of you. 

Was this really how you were going to live from now on? You cursed your whole family for spoiling you so much back home. Sure you were grateful for being able to live with your family for twenty three years, but the consequences of your mother making a fuss when you tried to cook for yourself was really showing now. 

You were about to dig into your lonely meal when your phone buzzed all of a sudden. Taking a quick peek at it, you saw Na-eun’s name flash up. You beamed with joy. Although you already worked up the nerve to be the first one to contact her, you were thankful she did first to break the tension. However, there was a small — microscopic even — part of you that wondered: what if that were Bang Chan?

You unlocked your phone. 

Na-eun: Hey! I know it’s kinda last minute, but do you wanna meet for breakfast?

Na-eun: There’s a café five minutes away from the building. 

Na-eun: ^-^

Smiling to yourself, you quickly typed a reply.

Y/n: Sure! My breakfast looks too sad to eat… 

Y/n: ^-^

In a flash, you stuffed your egg into a plastic tupperware container and put it in the empty fridge before booking it out your door, making sure to carefully enter the passcode to lock it before running to the staircase. You almost tripped over the stairs going down as you tried to sprint and text Na-eun at the same time. Checking the maps app on your phone, you told her how long it would take for you to arrive at the café. 

Na-eun: Do you mind if I bring my roommate? She keeps complaining about how boring it is at home haha.... 

Na-eun: She’s really nice though! ^^;

You happily agreed since you weren’t in the position to turn down another potential friend. Already two potential friends? You were so excited. 

There was a bounce in your steps as you made your way down to the subway. Scanning your card, you made your way to the big group of people on the platform and waited for your train. Taking the subway was so new, yet refreshing. There was something exciting about seeing a brand new set of people board the cart every stop, it was almost like refreshing your Instagram feed over and over again. 

After just a couple minutes more of waiting, your subway came. You naturally found your way in by shuffling along with the flock of people and found a good place to stand. 

You surveyed your cart. Some high school students, a few elderly, and many many businesspeople dressed in attire very similar to you. They all seemed to be busy on their cellular devices, so you quickly pulled yours out as well, eager to blend in. Your little Tamagotchi friend was happy to see you. 

The sound of the automated woman’s voice was what drew you out of your concentration, as she announced that the subway would be stopping at your destination next. When the subway stopped, the sea of people rushed out in a big tidal wave and you just went along with the flow. 

The map posted on a big pillar in the station was difficult to read at first, but after embarrassingly asking a station officer, you were confident you knew where you were going. The station was big with many interwoven hallways, each connecting to a different location. It had a couple shops and convenience stores located along the sides where students running late could buy some bread or tired businesspeople could inject their early morning dose of caffeine. 

You weaved your way through the long halls, confident that you could remember how you got out the right exit yesterday. Finally, after passing by many familiar stores and signs, you eventually made it above ground at the right exit. It was a cloudy September morning, the wind flew past you at just the right speed to elicit a slight shiver. You curse yourself for not bringing a jacket in your rush to the café. The streets were busy with cars zooming by, but it was nowhere near as congested as the subway traffic.

You started following your phone’s GPS to the marked location, and after a couple minutes, you spot the café. You immediately recognized it as a chain café as you’ve seen a few more of these scattered around the city as you got around. This one, however, appeared to be larger than the others (presumably because it was near so many big name companies) as it had three floors in total. 

You texted Na-eun, telling her you’ve arrived. She let you know that they were both in one of the booths on the second floor, so you decided to order before heading up. Walking over to the cashier, you scanned their massive menu, trying to find what you were looking for.

“One mango juice, please.” You politely ordered. “And also a slice of the red velvet cake.”  

After you had paid, you waited patiently, hands folded in front of you for your food. Because it wasn’t busy in the morning, it wasn’t that long until one of the baristas handed your food to you on a tiny plastic tray and you started making your way up. You reached the top floor and scanned your eyes around the room to find a familiar face. 

“Y/n!” Na-eun waved.

You waved back and made your way over. She was in the booth, and there was another girl sitting beside her. 

“Y/n, this is my roommate Yoojin.” She smiled at you and made a gesture towards the smaller girl sitting beside her. She was a fluffy haired girl. Her appearance was puppy-like, with her wide eyes and a large smile that was almost too big for her face. 

“Hi Yoojin.” You said as you sat down. 

“Hi Y/n! Na-eun told me about you yesterday. It seems like you have similar jobs.” She looked back at you with wide eyes. “But I think you got luckier because you actually get to interact with the idols.” 

“I think both of us are lucky to even be working there,” you chuckled, “plus, I don’t actually get to be working directly with the artists. I could only wish.” You joked. 

“Still extremely lucky, Na-eun told me she saw Bang Chan and Felix from Stray Kids at your building’s cafeteria yesterday.” Her hair bounced. “Finally, now I can say I’ve indirectly met famous people.” 

You and Na-eun both laughed. Although Yoojin looked the same age as you, there was something about the way she acted that just seemed so precious and innocent — like a little sister. How old was she anyway?

“Yoojin’s younger than me by a few years,” Na-eun said as if she read your thoughts, “She graduated university a year early. Top of her programming class. She knows everything about technology; one time, I stupidly forgot the passcode to my P.O. box and she cracked it for me in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Stop it.” Yoojin whined, looking down and playfully hitting Na-eun on the shoulder. “I told you before that I don’t like it when you talk about me. Let’s talk about Y/n instead. Na-eun told me you’re not from here, what do you do at JYPE then?” 

“I’m an assistant to help market some of the artists in China.” You leaned in a bit. “Actually, to be honest, I’m working on a secret project and Bang Chan from Stray Kids is technically part of the team.” 

Both Yoojin and Na-eun’s eyes widened. “No way, you’re so lucky.” Yoojin said. “Why can’t you have a job like that?” She poked at Na-eun.

“Get your own job first,” Na-eun smirked, “then we can talk about mine.”  

“Hey! I do have a job.” Yoojin clenched her jaw, looking at her plate and avoiding eye contact.

“I’m not sure if talking to people online all day counts as a job.” 

“Whatever.” Yoojin swirled her fork on her plate, stabbing at a piece of her cake. The scraping of metal on ceramic made all of you wince. 

“Anyways,” you started, trying to change the atmosphere, “did anybody watch the first episode of that new drama?” 

The two girls seemed to have a mood switch, looking relieved to start a new conversation. They gladly added their input and opinions on the new drama, talking about both the plot and the actors. Time passed by twice as fast as the three of you sat at the booth talking about the most random things. However, it was soon time to go to work for both you and Na-eun. 

“Hey, before you leave, could I get your number?” Yoojin asked. “We should hang out again sometime.”  

You gladly typed your contact into her phone, excited to hang out with Yoojin again. She was so full of energy, it reminded you of your university days. Not to mention that fluffy curly hair. It was so cute. 

You and Na-eun both made it out of the café and walked side-by-side over to your building before parting ways at the elevator corridor. It was a miracle that you managed to arrive at your cubicle in time, without getting lost. There was a pile of papers on your desk; they were the files you worked on yesterday. You remember that yesterday Manager Chen marked some improvements that could be made to the papers, but you checked your email just to be sure. 

Hello Y/n,

I put the documents from yesterday on your desk for some final edits. I��ve also added a few more. Could you finish them all by the end of the day?

Best, 

Manager Chen

You flipped through the stack of documents, and sure enough, there were about five more letters that needed to be worked on. Feeling determined, you gritted your teeth, got out your pen, and started to do your job. 

There were more corrections to make than what you expected, plus, you wanted to make sure your work was perfect this time. You skipped a trip to the cafeteria for lunch and ate something from the vending machine at your desk instead. You tried your best to work diligently, but because of your inexperience, it was taking longer than expected. You lost track of time as the hours passed by. 

“Your team is working hard today, Manager Chen.” A voice came from across the room. You looked up from your stack of documents to see Manager Kim walking over towards Manager Chen, who was standing casually outside her office doors. 

“What can I say, I keep them busy.” She replied. “Are you heading home now?” 

“Yes, and so should you.” Manaker Kim stopped at your cubicle, putting a hand on the wall. It was cat-like the way he looked at you. “Y/n, you’re working hard. Are you going home now? I’ll give you a ride.” 

You couldn’t head home now, not with the amount of work you still had with the new letters Manager Chen added to the pile. “Thank you for the offer, Manager Kim, but I’ll stay later today. I need to finish this work by today.” 

“Let her be, Manager Kim, you know how new employees are.” Manager Chen nagged and crossed her arms. “Come, I’ll walk you to the parking lot.” 

You bowed at both your managers and stretched your back before getting back to your work. The black lines of both languages started to blur into one as you strained your eyes to hold a tighter focus on the documents. It wasn’t until two more gruesome hours later when you finished your work. You did a long deserved stretch of the arms and checked the clock for the time, praying that it wasn’t too late. Thankfully, with the time being only eight, it wasn’t that dark out. You took a quick peek at your phone to check your notifications before leaving the office. 

There were only two texts sent fifteen minutes ago. Both from Bang Chan. 

Your chest tightened when you unlocked your phone. 

Bang Chan: Hey, I know it’s a bit late, but I have some ideas for the project and I was thinking we could meet up to discuss them

Bang Chan: Only if you want that is…

Your brain was in jumbles as you thought of what to text back. There were a couple staff that wrote you emails about their ideas for the project, but none of them asked to meet in person. And now, the first person who asked you to have a meeting in person was Bang Chan. Whom you rode back to your apartment drunk with. On your first day at work. And now you missed his work-related text by fifteen minutes. However, even though it was late, you still felt like you needed to take his ideas in. After all, like Manager Chen said, you know how new employees are. 

Y/n: Hi, sorry my reply is late… Are you still free? 

You anxiously stared at the blue-lit screen of your phone, jumping in and out of the text app waiting for a reply. After less than a minute, you saw the little dots at the bottom which indicated that he was typing. It disappeared for a moment, only to come back less than a second later. Your thumbs started unconsciously fiddling with one another in front of your phone screen as you waited for what felt like eternity. 

Bang Chan: It’s alright haha 

Bang Chan: There’s a cafe about 5 minutes from our building, wanna meet there? 

You immediately knew which café he was talking about as you conveniently hung out with Na-eun there this morning. You texted Bang Chan back, letting him know that you would be there as soon as possible. You grabbed your bag, along with your trusty pen and notebook,  before leaving your desk for the elevators. The elevator ride was unusually fast as it was already well past working hours for most people.  

Once you were out of the building, you made your way down the familiar sidewalk, passing by the familiar street shops as you felt the bite of the wind against your face. The sky was becoming dim as the sun made its descent, but the illumination coming from the streetlamps helped guide you there. After five minutes of a brisk walk, you saw the familiar sign of the café. You also saw a familiar person standing outside the door, dressed in all black, with his head down looking at his phone. 

You tried to make your footsteps slightly louder the closer you got to him in order to make your presence known. It seemed to have worked, as Bang Chan heard you and turned his head up. He immediately gave you a boyish grin, putting his phone in the pocket of his hoodie and pulling his face mask down to his chin. 

“Hey,” You waved awkwardly, “did I make you wait long?”

“Not at all.” Bang Chan said as he held open the door, “Let’s go in, it’s pretty chilly today.” 

You thanked him and walked inside. You both made your way to the cashier and looked up at the menu, deciding on what to buy. 

“I think I’ll get an iced americano.” Bang Chan said. “Are you getting anything?”

“Hmm. I might get the mango juice.” You decided and lined up behind Bang Chan, waiting for him to order first. 

Bang Chan walked up to the waiting barista. “Hello, I’ll get an iced americano please.” A second passed. “Also a mango juice.” 

Your eyes widened as you silently tried to stop him from buying your drink, feeling embarrassed that Bang Chan — who was essentially your coworker — was buying your drink. He didn’t seem to notice your quiet protests, as he pulled his card out of his wallet and quickly tapped it on the pin pad. After he was done paying, he turned around and tucked his card back in his wallet, giving you a smug grin. 

“I’ll pay you back later.” You insisted, embarrassed once again that he was doing something for you. 

“Of course, of course.” He casually replied and stood beside you with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “I’ll wait for our drinks. You can go find a table.” 

You nodded and left to find a table on the first floor. Surprisingly, there were more people there at night than when you were there in the morning. Some people had their textbooks out to study, some were quietly enjoying a book. Some were on dates. 

Finally, after weaving through many fully filled tables, you found an empty one near the table. You sat down, taking out your pen and notebook to prepare for Bang Chan’s ideas. Not long after, you saw Bang Chan walking around, turning his head left and right to look for you. You caught his eye as you waved at him to come over. He strolled over and put the tray of drinks down on the table, placing yours beside your notebook. 

“So,” You took a sip of your delicious mango juice, “do you wanna get started now?” 

“Sure.” His usually friendly face turned serious. It seemed like he took his work seriously. “So I was thinking, we need to film some content to start promoting our debut right? How about we film content for the Mid-Autumn Festival? It falls on the same day as Chuseok, so we can use this as a small promotion for our debut.” 

You nodded in agreement. Although this idea would be a little last minute to carry out, it was a great opportunity to promote their group in order to gain more popularity before their debut in China. “This is a great idea Bang Chan,” You hurriedly jotted down everything he said, “did you have more to add on?”  

“We could make several episodes of this content. I was thinking we could camp in the mountains and maybe cook some food, make mooncakes.” 

“All of this is really good, we have three weeks until the actual Mid-Autumn Festival. If I rush this idea to Manager Chen, we could have one week to plan it, and two weeks to film and produce it.” You beamed, glad that you could be involved in a potential big production. 

You and Bang Chan kept discussing his idea for content, and as time passed, your conversation turned more casual as it eventually evolved into topics unrelated to work.

“So, why are you having coffee this late anyway?” You tipped your chin towards his glass. 

“There’s this part of a song I’m working on that I just can’t get perfect,” Bang Chan noticeably clenched his jaw, “I wanna figure it out before I leave.” 

“Do you usually stay up late to work?” You asked. 

“I can’t sleep anyways, so I might as well work.” 

“Insomnia?” You questioned. He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his coffee. A few seconds of silence passed. “You know, my mom made me pack some of her special tea before leaving. She said it was for jet lag, which is weird because there’s only a time difference of an hour here.” You rambled. 

“Oh?” Bang Chan tipped his head. 

“I could give you some tomorrow.” You said. Your eyes wandered everywhere except to him. “If you want.” 

“Really, you’d do that?” His eyes widened as he stirred his coffee with his straw. 

It may have been your subconscious need to make friends, or just the fact that you mom gave you so much tea for your non-existent jet lag, but you gladly offered your mom’s solve-all remedy. “Of course, anything for a friend.” 

He blinked a couple times. He stopped stirring his coffee. “Thanks.” He looked at you with a slight grin. 

“Plus, this way I can pay you back.” You teased. 

“Okay, fair enough.” He chuckled. A dimple appeared on his cheek as his smile widened. “But seriously, you don’t need to worry about paying me back for anything next time.” 

Next time? You wondered. Of course he would have more ideas for his own group. You wanted to roll your eyes at yourself. It seemed like, despite his easy-going personality, that he cared a lot about not only his job, but the boys he worked with. His work ethic inspired you and made you want to work just as hard as he did. Except you definitely couldn’t stay up as late as he did. 

The two of you kept up the back and forth that was established, talking about whatever came to mind, with a few sprinklings of work-related conversations throughout. You talked about your first day impressions and how well you were adjusting to life in a new country, and he retaliated by sharing his own experiences of moving across the world. You were so enraptured by your riveting conversations that you easily lost track of time. It wasn’t until you had already spent minutes playing around with your straw in the empty glass that you finally remembered how late it was.

“It’s kinda late, I think I should get going now.” You said as you checked your phone for the time. 

“Are you taking the subway?” He asked as he started gathering the empty glasses. “It’s pretty dark now — I could walk you there.”

“It’s alright. I don’t wanna take time from your work” You said, gathering your notebook and pen. 

“It’s no problem, really, it’s just a five minute walk.” He stood up with the tray of empty glasses in one hand and pulled up his face mask with the other.

The two of you left the café and walked the short distance to the subway stairs.  There, you parted ways and you started your trek home. Taking the subway at night was vastly different from morning; the morning rush was filled with rows and rows of busy people, whereas the night train had a completely different feeling to it. There were actually available seats, to begin with. You found an empty seat and took out your phone to kill time. You checked your missed notifications.

Yoojin: Hi Y/n!! ^-~ Today was so fun, we should go again sometime! 

You smiled at the little text from Yoojin, visioning her wide smile stretch across her face. Texting a quick reply back, you were about to put your phone back down when another notification popped up. 

Unknown: Stay away from him. This is a warning.  

A flash of panic rushed through your body making your chest tighten. Your heart was coming out of your chest, the beating was so hard you could hear it even in the running subway. Completely fixated on the bright white of your phone, your eyes strained from the light. Adrenaline filled your blood, and in the spur of the moment, you quickly blocked the number and deleted the text chain. It had to just be a prank text, after all, you have gotten pranked through text multiple times before in your past. 

You put your phone down slowly, turning your head to survey your subway cart for any suspicious acting people. There was only a grandma with her cane and a few middle school girls comparing their new lip tints. Your thumbs naturally started fiddling with each other. Your eyebrows knit together as you clutched your bag tight to your body for the rest of the subway ride. 

The walk back to your apartment was done carefully. You chose the side of the sidewalk with more light as you kept your senses open, trying to remember the face of every person that walked past you. Although it was more likely than not that the text was just a prank, you were still somebody living alone with very few connections in a new country. Your legs quickened at the thought and you hurried your way back.

Arriving at your apartment door, you carefully entered your lock combination and slammed your door shut, double checking that it was locked. Your home was dark, with only the moon casting long shadows on your furniture. You quickly switched your light on. You tried to put this text to the back of your mind as you got ready to sleep, but it loomed, feeling like a shadow cast by the moon. The shadow in your mind stayed as you closed your eyes, waiting for your sleep to chase it away. 

The next morning, you woke up to the obnoxious beeping of your alarm. You sleepily sat up, getting ready to perform your familiar morning routine. Everything felt like routine, so monotonous that the text from last night was completely forgotten. You opened the fridge and ate your suspicious egg from yesterday morning. 

Before leaving, you suddenly remembered to bring your mom’s magical tea. You rummaged through the cupboards until you found the ridiculous packaging your mom insisted on using. 

The route to work was already starting to feel familiar as you mindlessly made your way from your quaint apartment all the way to the opulent blue building. You entered the office and sat at your desk, checking for new emails. After nothing of immediate importance came up, you got out your notebook and started to type up your notes from yesterday. 

You were in a trance. The repetitive task of reading and typing completely hypnotised you as hours passed by without you even noticing. What broke you out of your trance, however, was the voice of your boss. 

“Bang Chan.” Manager Chen called out. You looked up from your monitor and peeked up from your cubicle to see the familiar hair of a certain man you knew. Assuming he was here for a meeting with Manager Chen, you went back to your hypnotising work. The walls of your cubicle were too high for him to see you anyways — something about eliminating distractions to maximise work efficiency. 

You hit ‘enter’ on your keyboard to start a new paragraph when all of a sudden, you spotted an object appear on your desk from the corner of your eye. 

A bottle of mango juice. 

Quickly turning your head around, you were met with Bang Chan’s back. He was already making strides towards Manager Chen, but something about the sway of his broad shoulders and the way his right hand stretched open told you that it was him who gave you this little bottle of happiness. You unscrewed the lid and took a sip before getting back to work.  

Thankfully, the gift you received was enough sugar content to keep you working efficiently for the rest of the day. You had finished all your work and could hopefully pitch Manager Chen the idea by tomorrow. You found your mom’s tea in your bag while gathering your stuff, remembering your promise to Bang Chan. 

Y/n: Hey, I have my mom’s tea — I could give it to you right now?

There was a reply almost immediately. 

Bang Chan: Sure ^^ I’m in a practice room on floor X right now, I’ll wait by the elevators. 

You made your way over to the elevators and tapped your nails on the package of tea whilst silently waiting for an elevator to arrive. The silence, however, was promptly cut off as your phone started to ring. It was from Yoojin. She probably wants to hang out soon, you thought as you happily answered right away. 

“Y/n!” Yoojin yelled into the phone, she sounded worried. 

“Yoojin, is there something wrong?” You frowned, concerned for the girl. 

“I-I was in the parking lot near your building, a-and I fell down the stairs.” She sniffed. “I think I sprained my ankle or something — I can’t stand up. It hurts so much.” 

“Oh god, Yoojin, do you want me to come help?” You were in the elevator by now, already pressing the button for the main floor. 

“If you’re not far, I don’t want to trouble you.” You heard sounds of her wincing. 

“It’s no trouble Yoojin,” You exclaimed, “your ankle is much more important now. I’ll be right there.” 

“Thank you Y/n.” You heard her sniff again through the phone. 

You bolted out of the elevator as soon as it reached the main floor, stuffing your forgotten package in your bag. Ignoring the looks of confusion of the people you sprinted past, you located the parking lot building as soon as you left the main doors of the JYPE building. Your chest burned and your breaths were heavy. 

You were worried for Yoojin. She seemed like such a sweet girl that it pained you to even imagine her hurt in any sort of way. With her fluffy hair and wide eyes, it made you feel like you were helping an injured puppy. 

Your legs felt like concrete after a while of running, but you finally made it to the parking lot building. Entering the parking lot, you looked for any sign of a staircase where Yoojin said she fell on. There were none. 

“Excuse me, where are the stairs to this parking lot?” You asked the parking lot attendant, assuming it was just hidden somewhere. 

“There are no stairs here,” He said, “if you want to get to the second floor, there is an elevator over there.” He pointed to the other side of the lot. 

You thanked the man and ran to the elevator, hoping Yoojin wasn’t too hurt by now. You’ve experienced injuries like these before whilst playing sports back home, they hurt like hell. Your breathing was staggered by the time you reached the elevator, however, you didn’t give up and kept looking around trying to find the girl. There was nobody. You were about to call Yoojin again just to make sure you were in the correct place, but a voice interrupted you. 

“Y/n.” 

It was Manager Kim.

[maddiviner]

Could studyblogging jumpstart your personal grimoire?

A witch should be a lifelong learner. To practice effective magic, you must grow in new directions at a constant pace. A witch should approach magic with a sense of devotion to their own growth.

I’ve practiced magic and divination for two decades now. The most solid advice I can give? Start journaling. Start keeping a notebook. Start studying.

Witches who keep a notebook record their research and ideas about the Craft. This helps them build a wide repository of knowledge, right there when they need it.

The format and content of my notebooks changed a lot over the years. But they all helped me become the witch I am today. I devoted the bulk of these notebooks to my journey in magic, techniques to try, and lessons learned.

There are few people who haven’t studied. In school, we pore over geometry and classic literature in hot pursuit of elusive high marks. We spent time learning about our interests. Whether that’s witchcraft, philosophy, or astronomy, notes are helpful.

Everyone learns in a different fashion. Still, studying and learning about the world remains with us from our first breath, to the last. My Craft took leaps forward when this dawned on me. I’d always enjoyed school. I realized that I could apply the same study techniques to witchcraft and the occult. 

What’s studyblogging?!

As a regular user of both Tumblr and Instagram, I soon came across the studyblogging trend. 

Caitlyn Tiffany of The Verge describes the studyblogging phenomenon as “a beautiful, stressful wonderland.” An apt description! But what is a studyblog? 

Studyblogging hashtags like #studyblr and #studygram  are popular (on Tumblr and Instagram, respectively).  

For someone just coming across the phenomenon, though? It can be difficult to penetrate this strange world. Expect calligraphic chaos, a plethora of highlighters, and fine-tuned aesthetics. 

Studyblogging focuses on the quest for knowledge. In practice, studyblogs share tips and handwritten notes on various subjects. Studybloggers encourage each other to be the best learners they can be. 

The photos of notes, assignments, and other tasks make up the bulk of the phenomenon. Studyblogs often feature photos of elaborate calligraphy and heavy illustration in note form.

Expect to see self-made diagrams of mitochondria. Essay outlines on postcolonial theory with nigh-perfect bubble lettering. Vast, illustrated mind-maps of Shakespearean themes. It's a big community, and there's room for a lot. Room for witches? I think so!

Studyblogging for Witches

In witchcraft, our grimoires function much like a non-magical student's study notes. The content, and some of the form, may differ, but the principles are the same.

The quest for an aesthetically-pleasing grimoire stymies many a beginner (and not-so-beginner) witch. The wise remind us that our grimoires needn’t be complex. Functionality is more important than aesthetics in most cases. 

That said, there is something worthwhile about keeping a grimoire that suits you. A  grimoire can speak to your soul, both by way of aesthetic appeal and your own abilities. For some of us, this might mean a lavishly-illustrated tome. Others might find minimalist styles more resonating. It varies.

The truth is that yes, your grimoire needn’t look a certain way or be perfect. Still, a level of aesthetic appeal can help with information retention. It can also boost your magical productivity. Humans respond in an intuitive fashion to that which they consider beautiful.

Aesthetics can help to put you into a liminal state. Liminality can be a powerful tool in self-improvement. This, in turn, is useful not only for normal studying, but also for the Craft itself. 

If you see art as part of your life path, you might find that approaching your grimoire as a work of art helpful. Part of this means realizing that it won’t be perfect, but also always striving to learn and grow.

Studyblogging, as a community, showcases a lot of excellent notebook and journal-keeping techniques. Studybloggers often provide tutorials and guides to effective learning methods. 

This is, of course, all while celebrating the joy of learning itself. Traditional studying methods can apply to magical topics. I have found that the techniques of the studyblogger can help with keeping a useful grimoire.

Ask your intuition if studyblogging is right for you!

Will studyblogging help you? For some students, lurking or keeping a studyblog inspires and motivates them. It also increases accountability. By posting their goals and progress, studybloggers have an impetus to progress. 

In a way, it’s a bit like livestreaming a video game - it makes the experience more challenging, and also more exciting. The difference, of course, is that, in this case, your game is learning!

And the notes? Many find the calligraphy, fancy scripts, and illustration soothing. It can be a way of making otherwise impenetrable subjects more captivating.

Without a doubt, aesthetic presentation improves information retention for some people. Humans have a positive response to beautiful imagery. 

Some folks find the gorgeous landscape of studygram and studyblr overwhelming and anxiety-inducing. Gorgeous calligraphy notes, after all, aren't easy for most people. 

For some, posting about your studies on a blog might only increase worry. We're all different, and studyblog techniques are hardly universal in form.

You should use your intuition to decide whether to dip into this community. Ask yourself whether an audience will help your quest for deeper knowledge. 

Will you feel empowered, or nervous about it? If you struggle with comparing yourself to others, you might find studyblogging discouraging. 

I myself am somewhat of a perfectionist. For me, though, the artistic aspects of note taking and information illustration soothe me. Studyblogging suits me, but will it help you?

You should tailor your learning experience to your own strengths. If that means studyblogging won’t help you, be honest with yourself and don’t chase the anxiety of it all. Find another method of learning. 

Browse some existing studyblogs - I recommend EmmaStudies and StudyQuill. Ask yourself how it makes you feel. Do the images and writing seems inspirational? 

Would you enjoy sharing your work with the world? Studyblogging might become an ally on your magical path!

Taking the Plunge

So, how do you start a studyblog? How do you get involved in the community?

The most popular studyblogging platforms are Instagram and Tumblr. Instagram lends itself to posting tons of pictures and very short-form posts. Tumblr favors longer prose. 

When I started studyblogging, I created both a studyblr and a studygram. I recommend starting a new account on the site of your preference for studyblogging.  

Follow some existing studybloggers as a way of introducing yourself to the community! Also, follow the hashtags #studyblr and #studygram, to start.

What to study?

Studyblogging features students focused on all kinds of topics. I’ve been studyblogging for over a year. In case you’re wondering, it's rare for someone to complain about my witchy take on studyblogging. 

You’ll find the studyblogging community very welcoming in most cases. But what will you study? I always recommend witches focus on only one or two things they’d most like to learn at a time.

Studyblogging lends itself well to in-depth topical research. This can mean learning the signs and language of astrology or the basics of gemstone magic.

Topics like shadow work or personal Tarot readings might be a bit too personal to blog about. Those might be better suited to normal, private journaling rather than a blog. My own studyblogging tends to focus on my writing preparation, astrology, and Tarot. 

Though I’ve been reading for over twenty years, there is always something new to learn about Tarot. Astrology, like Tarot, is a lifelong discipline. Though I’ve only recently made my first steps into it, there is much to learn. My writing, especially the book I’m working on, has its own notebook.

Possible topics include, but are in no way limited to:

Crystals and gemstones

Astrology

Spellcraft

Mythology and legends

Magical history

Energy work techniques

Seasonal and Lunar cycles

Herbology

Tarot, Lenormand, or oracle deck divination!

It is important to choose topics that interest you in a personal way. At the same time, try not to get distracted. Witchcraft includes many paths of study. Try not to jump from topic to topic - finish what you start!

Supplies

If you’re in school, you may already have a lot of the tools necessary for studying. If not, you can get them for an affordable price in most cases.

Paper matters!  You'll want a notebook or loose leaf binder paper. For hardbound notebooks, you can’t go wrong with a Leuchtturm 1917.  That popular notebook boasts dot grid paper, includes page numbers and a place for an index. 

Seeking something more aesthetic? Check out the Paperblanks series from Peter Pauper Press. You might also like the notebooks you can order from Citrus Bookbindery. For me, a binder (I use A5 size) works best, because I can add and remove pages as necessary. 

You can find some great guides out there about organizing grimoires. Much of that advice applies here. Your notebooks will soon fill the role of a grimoire.  They will contain your notes, research, and more.

It is usually best to have one notebook (or binder) for each subject you’re studying. As you move forward, you’ll have a collection of grimoire notebooks on different topics.

You’ll also need pens or pencils. Really, you only need one. If you feel like getting fancy, you can get multicolored fineliners. I prefer Sakura Micron pens. They use waterproof micropigments that don't bleed when you highlight over your writing.

Highlighters are fun! These add color to your notes and help emphasize the important things. If you want nice highlighters, I recommend Mildliners. Any highlighters will do, though - choose colors that appeal to you. I recommend several different colors, because that allows you to color-code your notes.

Plan!

Plan out, at least in a rough fashion, how you’d like to organize your  notes. This can be rather freeform, or complex, depending on your preference. 

When I began my astrology journey, I knew what sections I would include in my stars grimoire. I also created a rough map of the path I’d take in my research. 

I began with the simple Zodiac signs. I then moved forward through the planets, houses, aspects and transits. My organization, loose though it was, benefited from my use of a binder which allowed me to add and remove pages. 

No matter the notebook, it is important to have, somewhere, a rough idea of where you’re going.

You will also find it important to set attainable, realistic, and measurable goals. For me, this was things like memorizing the astrological house system. I set the goal of reading my astrology textbooks completely and summarizing them. This kind of goal leads to personal accountability.

I also created a set of astrological flashcards for my Tarot-related work. It can be motivational to post your goals on your studyblog in some form. Then, you can provide your followers with regular updates on your progress.

Start posting!

Once you feel ready, go ahead and introduce yourself to the studyblogging community! An introductory post, explaining who you are, your goals, and methods, will help others get to know you. 

I recommend tagging your posts with studyblogging hashtags (mentioned above). Also include some witchcraft-related tags! This will help you connect with other witches who might be helpful on your journey.

Don’t be shy when it comes to posting photographs (taken with a phone or other camera) of your notes! You might not feel that your notes are as neat or pretty as other bloggers. Regardless, they’re unique and might resonate with others!

If you’re taking notes about a very personal topic, like shadow work, you might want to forgo the pictures. Some bloggers obfuscate or blur potentially sensitive parts of their notes. You’ll likely find nothing but encouragement for sharing your research topics, though!

Some studybloggers will also photograph their study space. Some of us even use photos of fun things like their breakfast or pets to illustrate their updates. If pictures don’t suit you, post regular bits about your life and your progress towards your goals. 

Get to know other bloggers! This is important, whether they’re witches or from the studyblogging community. Both can be helpful! 

Watch or read some of the tutorials you’ll find in the studyblogging community. These focus on things like calligraphy, organization, and memory techniques. 

While your notes needn’t have fancy headings, calligraphy can be fun to learn. I don’t currently use calligraphy in my notes, but am learning it on the side, so to speak. 

I find it relaxing, and you might enjoy it too. If not, don't feel bad - not everyone uses fancy handwriting, and that's okay!

Moving Forward

If, after a few weeks, you find yourself really vibing with studyblogging, stick with it! Most witches would agree that there’s no real wrong way to be a witch. To me, though, there are wrong (and right) ways for you yourself to learn and grow in your craft. 

You need to find what works for you, what adheres to your soul and keeps you connected. If studyblogging ends up helping you, and I hope it will, keep going! 

After a while you might find yourself ready to move onto another topic. We all end up “graduating” forward onto other subjects. You’ll quickly find that your grimoires will be an invaluable record. 

They will contain not just your gathered information, but also your intuition, insight, and more. Cherish your notebooks - they will come to reflect your essence!

[path-of-my-childhood]

Taylor Swift: Pop Star of the Year

By: Jonathan Dean for The Sunday Times Date: December 27th 2020

Rather than hunker down, the singer put out two albums in 2020 and won over new audiences. She’s the pop star of the year.

Taylor Swift met Paul McCartney in the autumn for a big interview in Rolling Stone. The two would have headlined Glastonbury this summer. Who knows if they will do that next year. Anyway, both recorded albums in lockdown, working from home like the rest of us. When they spoke, though, Swift had a secret. As well as Folklore, released in July, she had a follow-up record in the pipeline — Evermore, which was released this month.

Swift noted that the former Beatle was still so full of joy. “Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?” he said. “We’re really lucky,” Swift replied. “I can’t believe it’s my job.” And she is right. Being a pop star is an extraordinary way to earn the living she does. But rather than accepting luxury and letting this tough year tumble on, Swift is also keenly aware what music means. Sad songs soothe, happy songs make us dance, but as fans of most artists waited for something — anything — this year, this 31-year-old released two albums that broke chart records, were critically adored and introduced her to people who once thought that she wasn’t for them.

“I’m so exhausted!” she said to the American chat show host Jimmy Kimmel, laughing, a few weeks ago, when asked if she had a third new album planned. “I have nothing left.” In addition to Folklore and Evermore, she filmed a TV special and even started rerecording her back catalogue, after a volatile dispute over who owns her work. By October I’d just about cobbled together my first sourdough loaf.

A decade ago Swift moved firmly into the limelight thanks to a squabble with Kanye West entirely of the rapper’s own making. In 2009, when Swift — then a nascent country music star — won the best female video award at the VMAs, West stormed on stage, grabbed her microphone and said that Beyoncé should have won. Swift was 19 — West was 32 — and she looked scared. This wasn’t just about her biggest moment yet being stolen, but also about her position in the pop hierarchy being questioned, very publicly, from the off. She stood there as that man bullied her. Apparently she left the stage in tears.

Years later West released Famous, with its infamous lyric “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/ Why? I made that bitch famous.” The alt-folk singer Father John Misty also wrote about sleeping with her. Every time that sort of thing happened, a powerful man in Swift’s industry was reducing a successful, talented, younger female to the level of a sex object. It was back-in-your-box belittling — as it was when a TV host groped her. (She successfully sued him.) While Swift herself would retort to West, as her music became less country, more slick pop, such retorts felt forced and gave the rapper too much of her oxygen. A nod to him on Folklore comes with the “Clowns to the West” line, but it is a sideshow now, not a headline.

Not that Swift’s life is entirely her own. She’s been one of the world’s bestselling female artists for a decade, coupled with curiosities such as a well-orchestrated relationship with Tom Hiddleston that kept her in the spotlight. Like many twentysomethings, Swift spent her youth apolitically, only to receive flak for staying silent during the 2016 US election. This year she endorsed Joe Biden, but what if she had wanted to stay quiet? Would the media have let her? She is under so much scrutiny that, after she made an innocuous hand gesture in a recent TV interview, similar to one women make to draw attention to domestic abuse, this headline ran: “Some people think Taylor Swift is secretly asking for help in her latest interview.”

Like many at the start of the pandemic she felt listless. The world we were used to was a wasteland, and we could only find the energy to watch Normal People. Swift’s ennui, though, was, well, swift. Stuck in LA, she emailed Aaron Dessner of the beloved beardy indie band the National to see if he fancied writing with her. No fool, Dessner said yes and, mere weeks later, the duo — with help from Swift’s regular collaborator Jack Antonoff as well as Justin Vernon, from the beloved beardy indie band Bon Iver — released Folklore. The gang just carried on working and, five months later, gave us Evermore.

Creativity is not on tap. Indeed, this year is not one for judging what others may or not have achieved. However, the silence of many big pop stars is striking because they know that even a single would make someone’s day; distract for a while.

Everyone needed to adjust to working from home, but Swift was one of the only musicians who did and, by eschewing the arena pop of recent albums for something more subdued, organic and folky, she gave the sense that she was letting fans in more than ever. She was at home, like us. This is who she is, and the first single from these sessions was so cosy, it was even called Cardigan.

“I just thought, ‘There are no rules any more,’” she told McCartney. “Because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, ‘How will this song sound in a stadium?’ If you take away the parameters, what do you make? I guess Folklore.”

Maybe it is tedious, for a deft writer with a career of varied, brilliant songs — Love Story, I Knew You Were Trouble, Blank Space — to find respect from some people only when artists who appeal to middle-aged men start to work with her. On the other hand, pop has never been particularly welcoming to many until it sounds like something you are used to and, with delicate acoustics and gossamer-like piano, Swift’s two new albums recall, sonically, Nick Drake or Kate Bush. Thematically, lyrics seem to come from anywhere. Daphne du Maurier, for one. Even the Lake District and its poets.

Some songs are personal. She is dating British actor Joe Alwyn, and on one track she sings, “I want to give you a child.” Make of that what you will. But these records’ highlights are not about herself, but others. “There was a point,” she told Zane Lowe on Apple Music, “that I had got to as a writer, [where I was only writing] diaristic songs. That felt unsustainable.” Instead, she does what the best writers do and mixes subjective with objective. The Last American Dynasty is a terrific piece of writing about the socialite Rebekah Harkness, who lived in a Rhode Island house that Swift bought and was, by all accounts, a bit scandalous. Swift tells her story almost with envy. Imagine, she seems to say, that freedom.

“In my anxieties,” she said in Rolling Stone, “I can often control how I am as a person and how normal I act. But I cannot control if there are 20 photographers outside in the bushes and if they follow our car and interrupt our lives.”

Then there is Epiphany. The first verse is about her grandfather, who fought in the Second World War; the second about frontline workers in hospitals now. Sung in a high register, it is suitably choral. Marjorie, on Evermore, is even better. It is about her grandmother, an opera singer who died in 2003. “What died didn’t stay dead” is the repeated line, and it is eerie, gorgeous. Swift sings how she thinks Marjorie is singing to her, at which point some vocals from the latter’s recordings waft in. Touching, but the real power is in Swift writing about vague memories of a relative who died when she was young. “I complained the whole way there,” she sings. “I should’ve asked you questions.”

In person she is warm like this, and funny. When Kimmel told her there were far more swearwords on Folklore and Evermore than previous records, she replied: “It’s just been that kind of year.” She is also odder than people realise. In the way pop stars should be. Obsessed by numerology, she wrote, on the eve of her birthday when announcing Evermore: “Ever since I was 13, I’ve been excited about turning 31 because it’s my lucky number backwards.” When I turned 31 I just wished to be 13 again, with all that youth, but then, maybe, she is just joking. “Yes, so until I turn 113 or 131, this will be the highlight of my life,” she said. “The numerology thing? I sort of force it to happen.”

Swift, of course, is far from the first pop star to become public property, or have a close bond with fans. This year, however, she was one of the few to show that such adoration is not one-way. She is, simply, a fan of her fans — from planting secrets in her artwork and lyrics, to recording two albums of new music as a balm for them when real life became too deafening.

“One good thing about music,” sang Bob Marley. “When it hits you, you feel no pain.” The 80.6 million who streamed Folklore on its first day will attest to that idea. So will the four million who bought it. Swift is pop star of the year, no doubt — leaving her peers in her wake, on their sofas, rewatching The Sopranos.

[atsunflower]

Rated: SFW

Author notes: *sigh* for the third time the damned app ate up the tags. This one took me too long and I'm excited for write about my man suna again. This is also pretty different from what I'm used to write, but why not? Please enjoy your reading.

Warnings: cursing, substance usage/mentions, break-ups and me trynna be funny.

I – Cancel me.

Previous || Next

He looked at them with expectation as the beats smoothly faded, indicating the song's ending. 

If he were to be honest, the pair before him was a pain in the ass, but their opinion was that important because, when it came to music, they were the best at it. He felt no shame nor jealousy in admitting it.

"Dunno, the hook sounds like a Vice headline ta me." The bleach-haired male said, hearring the song's outro blaring through the studio speakers.

"Isn't it a Kid Milli reference, tho?" The other asked while munching a chip. He frowned at them, not understanding their point.

"Whatever. You two are no help anyways." Hearring their bullshit, the brunette already regretted this collab. He paused the queued song, turning to the other two with a blank stare.

The twins before him snickered, knowing they successfully hit a nerve. They couldn't help it, provoking Suna was one of their favorite hobbies.

"The song is good, but I gotta tell ya this butt hurt phase of yers is pretty lame." The faux-blond opened his mouth again, spinning around the studio with the desk chair. 

"Fuck you, Atsumu" He snapped, almost giving in to the desire of decking them both on the face.

"Tsumu's right, ya Lil Peep wannabe. Can't believe this break up ended up that bad." Osamu said in mockery, throwing the empty Lay's wrapper at him. He scoffed, disposing the wrapper on the bin before getting back at the screen to look at the FL studio interface.

"It's not that I have a broken heart. I just wanna know what's wrong with my life" He shrugged, blindly tacting over the desk in search of his Juul.

"Yeah Samu, he's just grieving over those fancy ass Dior Jordans. Sunarin is incapable of mundane things like a broken heart." His blond friend was partially right.

Suna Rintaro was many things: alt model, music producer, cloud artist and a decent volleyball player that almost went pro. But if there was something he could never be, it was a lucky man on love matters.

With his fair share of failed relationships, the artist could never pinpoint when things went wrong. It would always be the same: he would meet a girl, they would have a good time and then, the chick would turn out demanding as fuck.

In the end, every single one of them would slap him across the face and leave his life banging the front door shut like crazy — last week, it was Mika who broke things off, but not before setting his limited edition pair of jordans on fire. He would never get over those sneakers.

"Good for him, those kicks were kinda ugly." Osamu said in a bored manner. Suna felt his soul leaving his body.

"The hell, Osamu?" He was ready to fight, deeply offended by the attack at his taste in fashion.

"Yo, you two." Atsumu butted in, checking something on his phone "Y'all are drifting away from our problem."

"That is?" The other brother asked.

"Cheer up Sunarin before he fucks up with the Album." If Suna had the energy, he would kick both Miyas out of his studio "And I gotta the perfect thing. Let's hang out at Akagi's tonight, he just invited us." The already distressed musician felt the soul leaving his body for the second time that afternoon. He was sure both twins wished his death.

"Not a fucking chance. Last time I went there I almost died because of that weird stuff we smoked." 

"Aw, Sunarin, Kita'll be there too." The faux-blonde tried to persuade. The mention of their older, responsible and straight edge friend made Suna look at them with interest. But he needed more, though. Based on the last experience, he didn't have the will to risk his life going to Akagi's house once again. A shiver descended his spine as the male recalled how much he threw up that night.

"Suna, man, I gotta agree with Tsumu. Yer feelings are showing in your music." Osamu said as if he was some kind of genius.

"Isn't art about it, tho?" He deadpanned "Expressing feelings and shit?" He asked, staring them dead in the eye. The males before him shivered because of its intensity. Suna snickered.

"Man says art, but most of his songs are about the Nikes on his feet and the Tesla in his garage." Atsumu mocked "What the fuck?" The blonde barely dodged the moleskine thrown at him.

"Don't chew on me when you do the same, asshat. This is called character development." As unnerving the twins were, he felt a whole lot better in their company "Just lemme produce my sad stuff in peace."

"Cut us some slack, ya dumbfuck. We're just worried about ya." Osamu protested " 'Sides, no wonder no girl sticks by yer side. You know what the chicks find sexy? Seizing the means of production, not yer dumb car."

"You two are so la—" The musician was interrupted mid sentence, startled by the blond figure clutching his phone with enthusiasm.

"Oi Samu," Atsumu's loud voice startled the other two, as he excitedly fisted the air.

"What the fuck?" Suna asked, dropping the Juul on the floor.

"She'll be there tonight." The blond said, looking at his brother with a new wave of joy.

"The fuck? She who?" The brunette frowned.

"Ya gotta go and find out, man." The gray haired twin said with a knowing smile, matching his brother's excitement.

The night out felt somewhat draining. The booze, the music and the company were great, but his lack of energy was a mood killer.

Cheer me up my ass, Suna cursed internally as he observed everyone getting wasted all over the place. He grimaced at the sight, realizing the meeting with the twins was enough social interaction for the day.

He didn't know what's gotten into him. The male knew it wasn't necessarily caused by the break up, but he couldn't help the feeling down.

Right now, life just felt lowkey suffocating. 

Being a public figure meant being under the spotlights the most of time.

People talked.

People assumed.

Media was all over him, ready to catch a scandall.

And of fucking course his name was on gossip headlines. It even occupied a spot on twitter trending topics for a day or so.

"Fuck me." He said before the lukewarm beer went down his throat.

"Sunarin!" He heard Atsumu shouting from his right "I want you to meet someone!" And only now he noticed the blond had his left arm over a girl's shoulders.

Oh, that's the one they were talking about, maybe? the brunette realized. What's the hype, tho? He asked himself, eyeing your figure.

"[Name], this is Suna. Sunarin, this is [Name], best girl ever and the mastermind behind the visuals of mine and Samu's last album" The bleach-haired male said with a proud smirk, ruffling your hair. You were obviously shy.

How cute, the brunette thought.

"Dumbass, don't embarrass me in front of others!" You nudged the Miya with your elbow "Nice to meet you, I saw your name on TMZ last week—" You said beaming and he grunted.

I take it back. Not cute at all, the man internally screamed, not ready to talk about the recent events. He didn't even want to listen to the rest of your speech, your cheery voice went through his ears in a white noise.

"And this makes me really excited for your album. The interview about the collab with dumb and dumber was lit." You continued, the words were genuine and you seemed really interested "And I also relate on a spiritual level because I know working with them is hell."

Oh, she's talking about the album. He realized in relief.

"Yo, I heard good things about you too. The design of their album was hella sick, even though they two suck ass." Suna snickered when he heard Atsumu protesting. You only left out a giggle, joining him on the teasing.

The blond kept ranting about how bad of friends the two of you were.

"I didn't introduce y'all ta gang up on me. Bye, I'm finding another company. Ya two suck." The blonde Miya said, leaving only you and Suna in the sofa area.

"Uh, so…" He drifted off, trying to start some small talk

"Yeah..." You both giggled at the awkwardness "Not enjoying the night?"

"Too much happening right now. Lots of people talking shit 'bout me." He sipped the beer, grimacing at the stale taste of the drink "Hope they cancel me already. So all this shit dies down." Suna looked away, suddenly shy for opening up to a stranger.

"You're a famous guy and the break-up wasn't that scandalous. It'll be over eventually, just beware the sneaker cult." Your amusement was comfort enough. You didn't make intrusive questions about the events and merely joked it off. He felt so worn out by the situation but, at least, your presence wasn't overbearring.

"How is it everyone knows about the jordans?" You shrugged it off, laughing at the distressed face he mocked. Sighing in relief, Suna couldn't deny how refreshing your presence was. Not to be a jerk, but usually, the girls either were all over him or judged every single move he made. You were just that easygoing.

"Well, I don't think you came here to sulk on the sofa all night long. Why don't we join them by the pool and down some shots?" You hopped off of your seat, pointing to the glass doors. All the boys were waving at you two and suddenly, Suna felt a wave of joy run down his body.

Atsumu was right. Best girl ever.

At some point of the night, everything became about you.

All he could hear was the sound of your voice and all the time, his eyes were drawn to your figure. He couldn't figure out a reason for it, but the rapper wasn't complaining either.

A sharp pang at the side of Suna's head broke the trance he was in. Osamu had a shit eating grin on his face, eyeing the ravenette with amusement.

"We told ya so." The younger twin mused whilst he handed a long neck of vodka to the other.

"Stop. This is dumb."

"Yer dumb. But you ain't that dumb ta dare ta mess with her." The gray-haired Miya squinted at him, menacingly pointing the bottle in his hand at the brunette. The latter shrugged it off, opening his drink.

"Nah, I'm good." And he meant it.

But how could he explain the situation he was in?

Lips and hands wandered over the expanse of his skin. Everything was too hot and too good at the same time. Overwhelming, even.

He wanted more, more and more. There wasn't enough of you.

And if it wasn't unfair enough, his body felt lethargic. He was desperate, but couldn't keep up with the rhythm you imposed. Be it the alcohol or the stress, his body gave up and blacked out, even before you could undress each other.

In the morning after, a pounding headache woke him up. Suna didn't dare to open his eyes, but the morning breath fanning over his face was unbearable.

"I can't believe a cutie like you have a stinky breath like this." The complaint came out in a raspy voice, accompanied by an annoyed grunt.

Someone snickered on the other side of the room.

"Man, I didn't know you had the hots fer Samu." Atsumu was somewhere across the room, laughing at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Hearing the other, Suna's body jolted, dizziness made his head spin in the process. He felt sick in the stomach and the morning light made his eyes sting. "When did I get back here?" The male looked around, realizing he was sprawled over Akagi's floor, right beside Osamu, who didn't even squirm at the loud voices in the room.

"What do ya mean? We never left" Atsumu frowned, uncaping a water bottle he was holding "Ya puked on Kita and passed out. The boys were too wasted ta drag yer sorry ass back home so we all crashed here." The blonde was dumbfounded, trying to figure out how wasted Suna got last night.

Suna wanted to know too. After all, there was no way the events envolving you were a product of his drunk mind.

facts:

• Suna's artist name is yosemite.

• He has a Tesla Model S because of Frank Ocean.

• He takes his Nikes very seriously.

• No, not all of his songs are about the car and the kicks.

• He and the Miya twins got a sports scholarship because of volleyball, but they dropped out of school to make music.

• The three of them created Inarizaki, the label they're making music under. Kita and Aran manage it.

• Both Miya twins are beatmakers and music producers. They recently debuted as artists and now are making a collab EP with Suna, thus Atsumu's concern about the album.

[artificialqueens]

I Don't Know How I Know (But I Know) (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.

(in which Tayce teaches year five, A'whora teaches Reception, Tayce hates Valentine’s day, and A'whora has a plan to change that.)

a/n: with thanks to my co-author, Lawrence Chaney. title from Intuition by LIZ, please listen to it it’s a vibe. happy valentine’s day everyone xo

***

Tayce has heard people say that teaching is a form of acting. She thinks this is true, for the most part. After all, there’s no way in hell she teaches her year fives the same way she would act around her friends.

She pretends she doesn’t know the TikTok dance to Savage Love and fakes ignorance at the memes her kids all communicate in. She’s impatient with her class when they run in the corridor and chew gum (because they’re almost the oldest in the school, and they should know better) but she’s patient when they struggle with area and perimeter and brings her chair over to sit beside whoever’s confused to explain it all again. She’s strict- she gets the girls passing notes to each other into trouble as if she didn’t do the exact same with her friends at the age of ten- and she’s built up a reputation for being one of the teachers that doesn’t take any shit. She expects a lot from the children she teaches, knows they’re a blank canvas and that they’ve got the potential to understand things that some adults struggle with, so she teaches them about racism, homophobia and transphobia, makes it part of her everyday teaching as opposed to one milquetoast lesson about Martin Luther King per year.

Some of the parents fucking hate her for it. She’d be lying if she said that wasn’t one of her favourite parts of the job.

It takes a lot for her not to drop that persona sometimes. When she has to tear through one of her boys for muttering “ah shit, here we go again” as she hands out a worksheet on direct and indirect speech instead of bursting out laughing as if it’s one of the funniest things she’s heard in years, which it is. It’s times like that when she wishes she could be more like A’whora.

A’whora with the blonde hair and the Disney-princess smile who teaches Reception. A’whora who does silly voices for all the characters when she’s reading picture books to her class and who sits and does colouring-in with them when they’re playing. A’whora who’s too nice to them all because she thinks they’re too cute to discipline, but her class love her so their behaviour is good regardless.

(A’whora with the completely inappropriate nickname only disclosed to Tayce five mojitos deep on the staff Christmas night out, which she’d earned herself at uni via her reputation. Tayce hadn’t asked for any further details.)

Tayce has never seen a teacher better suited to the youngest class in the school than A’whora. She’s constantly got specks of glitter on her face from the crafts she completes with them, she hums the silly little songs she uses to teach them their sounds when she’s at the photocopier without even realising. She turns up to work in immaculate outfits and finishes the day with them covered in glue, marker pen, and even (horrifically) a child’s snot once, but she doesn’t even mind, simply zips them up into little bodybags and puts them in for dry cleaning.

Tayce is never done telling her how she could never do what she does, she could never teach the little ones; her patience would snap, she’s too mean for them, she’d get bored having to teach the most basic of basic stuff. A’whora only ever brushes her off and says how she couldn’t teach Tayce’s year group either; they’d eat her alive, they’d walk all over her, she wouldn’t even be able to do the complicated maths she’d have to teach. Besides, she argues, drawing a glare from Tayce every time, she’s definitely goofy enough for the Reception kids.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together. They worked well together, so when their headteacher sent them to opposite ends of the school Tayce almost had a meltdown. Still, they sit next to each other in the staffroom and at every staff meeting. They take turns making each other lunch every day and walk to the roll shop to get toasties every Friday. Tayce walks down from her classroom to come and sit in A’whora’s at the end of every day and they chat and bitch and sometimes cry and get absolutely nothing done for at least forty minutes. A’whora picks her up on the way to work every morning and terrifies Tayce with her bad driving and the way she almost causes road traffic accidents with only a “whoopsie!” of acknowledgement, but she’ll make up for it by taking them through the Starbucks drive-thru if they’ve got a meeting after school that night. She blasts songs by artists Tayce has never heard of but are all in the same energetic, poppy, Y2K-esque genre that A’whora seems to love.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.

***

A’whora’s friends tease her and tell her that teaching five year olds must be the easiest job in the world. A’whora loves her friends, but she fucking resents them when they come out with that shite.

A’whora knows that she herself is not the brightest crayon in the box. She had known that she’d never be one of the girls in her year at high school that went off to study medicine or law, and she’d known she’d never graduate uni with a first class degree or write an award-winning dissertation.

(When she’s having a bad day she comforts herself with the fact that at least she’s not joined a multi-level-marketing scheme under the guise of being a “businesswoman”, and this helps her feel a little better.)

But what she lacks in academic ability she makes up for in spadeloads by being a damn good teacher. She’s big-hearted and silly and patient. She always picks up crisps and KitKats when she’s at the shops and keeps them in a drawer under her desk to sneak to the kids who come to school without a snack. She sits in the construction corner with her kids when they’re playing and asks them about the models they make, and pretends to die a gruesome, slow death when they shoot her with their little lego guns instead of trying to get them to make something less violent like she knows she should do. She reads books about unicorns that captivate the little shy girls in her class who come up to her afterwards and whisper in their tiny voices that they think unicorns are real, and A’whora agrees with them and watches their faces light up. She makes every day fun for her little ones; because the beauty of teaching is having the control to plan what happens every hour, so she makes sure that none of the six they have to spend in her care are boring.

The key to being a good Reception teacher is to essentially make a fool of yourself every day for the benefit of twenty-two four and five year olds, which A’whora has no problem doing. She doesn’t care what her pupil support worker thinks of her when she acts out The Gruffalo with soft toy puppets she borrowed from the library. She doesn’t care what the management team think of her when she turns up for World Book Day dressed as The Tiger Who Came To Tea. The only person’s opinion she does maybe care a tiny, ever-so-slight amount about, is Tayce’s.

Tayce is that teacher. Tayce is the cool teacher. Tayce is the teacher that all the children want to be taught by. A’whora hears the year fours whisper to each other in the corridors every June and watch as they cross their fingers and close their eyes before they open the envelope addressed to their parents, then give a screech of excitement and joy when they see the name Miss Szura-Radix on their class allocation letter. She wears heels all day without so much as a grunt of complaint and jumps in A’whora’s car each morning with a full face of makeup on at half past seven (while A’whora paints her face at quarter past eight at her desk in between shovelling a croissant down her throat in an attempt at ‘breakfast’ and sorting handwriting worksheets). The year five and six girls straighten their hair to a flattened crisp in an attempt to emulate Tayce’s endless shiny locks and she’s the only teacher that the rogue group of year six boys addresses with respect. She has the discipline of Miss Trunchbull with the heart of Miss Honey, and A’whora thinks she’s the best teacher she’s ever seen.

A’whora’s been friends with Tayce since she started working at the school but her heart still flutters in its chest whenever she sweeps in to her classroom to chat after work, or sits herself down next to her before a cluster meeting with two cups of tea in polystyrene mugs and two biscuits, or whenever A’whora mysteriously finds a packet of Percy Pigs on her desk hidden under a pile of marking with a post-it note stuck to it that says “u are a pig (but i love u)”.

She wonders if that feeling will ever go away. She kind of doesn’t want it to.

It’s that feeling that made her volunteer to help out at the year five camp last March. Tayce was complaining about having to go to a remote outdoor centre and supervise ten year olds completing various death-defying tasks for a week all in the name of character building, and A’whora had said she’d go with her. The smile it had put on Tayce’s face was worth every minute spent up to her knees in mud. Similarly every second she spent waist deep in freezing water was worth the moment Tayce fell asleep on her shoulder on the coach trip back to school on the last day.

(And she still hasn’t told anyone else about the moment she thought her heart might explode; on the last night of the week when temperatures had unexpectedly plummeted and A’whora had been trying to get to sleep but all she had been able to do was shiver and chatter her teeth and toss and turn, and Tayce had sighed dramatically, rolled her eyes, thrown off her duvet cover and patted the space in the bed beside her, with a “just get in quick, before it gets cold”. A’whora had spent the following hours until morning with Tayce’s body tangled around hers, in the most blissful sleepless night she’d ever experienced.)  

There’s so many things that endear Tayce to A’whora. Her smile, her secretly chaotic funny side, the way she never, ever makes A’whora feel like an idiot. The way she’ll ask the questions A’whora’s too scared to ask in staff meetings. The way she cares so deeply and passionately about the futures of the kids she teaches to the extent where sometimes she’ll develop a little crease at her brow in front of her attainment spreadsheet and A’whora will have to gently pry her away from her monitor to reassure her that she can’t control the way her children’s lives pan out. The way she’ll sometimes call her Rory, which makes A’whora’s heart expand at least three sizes.  

Something else that makes her heart expand three sizes is the way Tayce acts with the Reception kids, despite her insisting she could never teach that year group. It happens one day when A’whora’s marking literacy while letting her kids play and Tayce swings by her classroom without so much as a knock. They’ll do this to each other sometimes when one’s in class and the other has planning time; just drop by and check in to make sure the other isn’t having a meltdown.

“Hey bitchtits,” she murmurs quietly, smirking as she leans onto A’whora’s desk. “How’s your day going?”

“Terrible since you decided to show up,” A’whora cocks an eyebrow back, then jerks her head towards her distracted kids. “This lot are like sponges, y’know. You can’t be dropping that kind of language in this class, even if you think you’re out of earshot.”

Tayce sticks her tongue out at her. “Aw what, you gonna report me to management?”

“Report you to management and say you’re in my class annoying me during teaching time!”

“Piss off! I’m the highlight of your day and you know it.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No. Just some very lucky ladies,” Tayce bites back with a smile, instantly rendering A’whora’s cheeks beetroot red as if she’s been slapped.

“You’re horrendous. You’re an actual deviant. Olly Murs without the Pringles can,” she rolls her eyes, trying to style out how flustered she’s become. She can see Tayce open her mouth to shoot a comeback her way, which is why she’s glad when one of her boys appears beside her desk holding a crumpled piece of paper covered in crayon blobs which are clearly meant to represent objects.

“Hi Archie! You okay?” she smiles brightly, turning all her attention to the little boy and trying not to cringe at Tayce getting full view of her Cbeebies-presenter voice.

“I made a picture for you,” he says, showing her the piece of paper and pointing out all the features of his drawing with a chubby little finger. “It’s a dragon that breathes fire and bombs, and he’s called Squish.”

“Wow! Thank you, Archie, I love it!” A’whora keeps smiling, blinking at the drawing the boy’s still holding. She points at some shaky rectangles with a pink acrylic. “And I can see he must be really tall because those buildings are tiny underneath him!”

Archie’s no longer interested in her or the drawing, though, as he’s looking up at Tayce through his glasses. “You’re my brother’s teacher.”

“Am I?” Tayce says, surprised that the attention is suddenly on her. “Who’s your brother?”

“Joshua. Joshua White.”

Tayce’s face instantly lights up in recognition. “Of course, you’re Josh’s brother! I should’ve known, you look so alike.”

“He’s ten and I’m five,” Archie adds, somewhat unnecessarily.

“See, I think you might be taller than him, though,” Tayce deadpans. A’whora watches affectionately as Archie’s entire body crumples up in a laugh and he splutters out a “nooooo!”. Tayce’s face breaks out into a smile- warm and genuine with her nose wrinkling up. It’s maybe the most adorable thing A’whora has ever seen.

“Josh is good at art as well. He’s not quite as good as you, but he’s good,” Tayce smiles, and as Archie smiles back A’whora feels her heart melting.

Archie turns to Tayce suddenly with the drawing still in his hand, and holds it out for her to take. “This is actually for you.”

A’whora gives a snort of outrage and amusement, which she quickly turns into a cough. She watches as Tayce accepts the drawing gratefully, giving Archie a little squeeze on his shoulder as she says thank you and Archie scuttles away back to his friends all bashful. There’s a second where Tayce smiles after him then looks down at the drawing with fondness, and A’whora’s feelings for her hit her like a tidal wave.

Tayce doesn’t notice (because of course she doesn’t) and as she straightens up she grins triumphantly at A’whora, holding the drawing in her face proudly. “Well. Guess Archie’s got a new favourite teacher then, doesn’t he?”

“He wouldn’t last five minutes in your classroom,” A’whora smirks, lying. The image of big-hearted Tayce with a class full of the littlest kids drying their tears and helping them get all organised for the day ahead is so unbelievably cute it makes A’whora want to squeal like an embarrassing teenager. She doesn’t, though. Instead she holds out a hand expectantly, raises her eyebrows at Tayce as if she’s one of her students. “Am I getting my drawing back or what?”

“Easy come, easy go,” Tayce winks at her, flouncing out of her classroom door just as the bell rings for break.

***

Tayce doesn’t really flirt with A’whora. Well, no, that’s a lie. She flirts and then immediately laughs it off, brushes it off as a joke or banter even though maybe if she’d taken flirting with A’whora a little more seriously she wouldn’t still be in this position two-bloody-years in.

Because she knows A’whora flirts sometimes. She’s positive she isn’t making it up. The way she’ll deadpan a “well, you look like shit” as she hops into her car in the mornings, the way she’ll sit close to her under her fluffy pink blanket if she’s round at Tayce’s for a movie day (because yeah, they hang out outside of work, because that’s what friends do). It’s always a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it raised eyebrow here, a laugh there, a touch of her arm and a squeeze of her hand and a smirk that bites back a thousand words Tayce wishes A’whora would just say.

So Tayce will flirt back because that’s probably just what A’whora does with her friends, and that’s all Tayce is to her. Maybe. Tayce is never sure if A’whora likes her back or not, and the risk of completely wrecking what is her only workplace friendship is too great to actually do something about it, so she’s happy being her friend for now. Every second she gets to spend with A’whora is a treat, so she can’t complain.

It would be easier if she was still labouring under the delusion that A’whora was straight, which was the whole reason it took Tayce so long to start slowly falling for her. A’whora had had a boyfriend for roughly the first six months Tayce had known her, so she hadn’t even thought of her friend in that capacity at all. Then one day on a rainy January she’d thudded her bag down on Tayce’s desk and told her they were going for drinks after work that night because her boyfriend was a cheating piece of shit and she’d broken up with him.

Tayce’s fate had further been sealed when they’d been sitting together for an inservice day on LGBT training and A’whora had turned to her and rolled her eyes.

“We don’t really need to be here, do we? We could just piss off to McDonalds.”

Tayce had laughed softly, fixing A’whora with a slightly confused glance. “Huh?”

“Well, I feel like we probably have enough lived experience of the whole thing to not need training. Still, we could always duck back in in time for the transgender part. But I mean we probably don’t really need to be told how to support kids struggling with their sexuality, do we?”

Tayce still remembers how A’whora had snorted at her, her face obviously looking as if she was searching for the last puzzle piece in the world’s most confusing jigsaw. “What is it?”

“I don’t get…what?” Tayce had said awkwardly, still unsure of what A’whora had meant.

A’whora had pulled a face, giggling a little. “Are you telling me that rainbow flag is on your desk for shits and gigs?”

“No…” Tayce said slowly, the pieces slowly falling together. “So…”

A’whora gave another funny little snort. “Tayce, did you not know I was bi? I’m sure I’ve told you this before.”

Tayce still thinks she deserves an Oscar for still being able to keep the conversation going despite the fact her entire world had been flipped on its head like a globe made of hourglass. “You’ve not! You’ve never. I mean, like, why would you need to? It’s not something that matters. I mean obviously it matters to you, but it doesn’t matter to me. You’re my friend either way. I mean it just never occurred to me because…your ex, and uh…you can drive.”

Mercifully, their headteacher had started speaking before A’whora could respond to her beyond a single raised eyebrow and a smirk on her face.

It’s been ever since then that Tayce has been looking at A’whora in a different light. How gorgeous she is at the start of the day with nothing but her laminated brows and lash extensions to pass for makeup and how gorgeous she still is at the end of the day with her mascara and eyeliner smudged a little at the edges and her lipstick all rubbed off. How she’s generous and patient and how she’ll go out of her way to help Tayce understand the new flavour-of-the-month resource their headteacher makes them use, pulling one of her kid’s chairs over to sit close beside her to see the monitor and bumping her knee against Tayce’s every so often.  

It’s how she acts around her kids, though, that really highlights everything Tayce completely adores about A’whora. Tayce is on her way up to the staffroom with two tubs of chicken shawarma salad in her hands (one for her and one for A’whora, of course) and she makes it up one flight of stairs when she suddenly hears a cry like an air raid siren pierce the air, as well as a gentle, soothing voice muttering quiet consolations.

It’s the sheer hysterical nature of the crying that catches Tayce’s attention at first, and she looks over the bannister to see A’whora on the level below, sitting a little boy who’s bawling his eyes out down on the red squashy chairs outside the office. With a stab to her heart Tayce realises that it’s Archie, the boy who’d given her the picture all those weeks ago. Both his knees and the palms of his hands are torn to ribbons; he’s obviously had a fight with the tarmac and emerged the loser. Tayce knows he’ll be okay if an adult’s seeing to him, especially if that adult’s A’whora, so she knows she can leave. She doesn’t need to stay and watch the situation play out.

But she does. She watches as one of the ladies from the office comes out and reassures A’whora that she can take over, and as A’whora waves her away kindly and says it won’t take her two minutes. She watches as A’whora puts her hands on the boy’s shoulders and directs his breathing, talking to him calmly and softly. She watches A’whora rip into a packet of sterile wipes with grim determination, telling Archie how brave he’s being and that she knows it stings as she wipes quickly and carefully over his little cut hands. She watches A’whora peel the wrapping off four plasters, making it seem effortless even with her long acrylics, and the way she makes a joke about Archie being bandaged up like a mummy which brings a smile to his little tear-stained face and a smile to Tayce’s too. The other staff don’t get to see A’whora’s caring nature very often (given how often she whispers judgemental comments to Tayce during meetings) but Tayce sees it all the time. A’whora has the biggest heart of anyone she’s ever known, and the whole scene makes Tayce feel so endeared towards her that it almost frightens her.

It’s at that point when Archie looks up at Tayce on the bannister and makes eye contact with her. He flicks his eyes back down to his teacher.

“Uh, Miss Boyle? I think Miss Szura-Radix wants to talk to you, because she’s been there a long time.”

Tayce’s heart freezes solid at the same time A’whora turns around, who fixes her with a sort of funny smile, confused but not exactly unhappy to see her.

“Uh. Coming to the staffroom?” Tayce shouts down, under pressure to explain herself but simultaneously not having any explanation.

“Two seconds!” A’whora yells up apologetically.

“I’ll wait,” Tayce yells down, reassuring her.

Tayce is used to waiting for A’whora. She supposes another minute or so won’t make a difference.

***

This is the third Valentine’s day A’whora has spent with Tayce.

The first fell on a Monday and had been an abject disaster (or success, depending on how she looked at it). A’whora was still getting over her ex and Tayce had confided in her that she hated Valentine’s day and all its commercialised, capitalist tat with a burning passion, so they’d gone to the pub after work and got so outrageously drunk that the two of them were so hungover the next day A’whora drove them to McDonalds for lunch.

The second had been last year- a Tuesday, where Tayce had been subdued and a little down until A’whora had forced her into helping her choose new clothes for the roleplay area for her kids and the pair of them had collapsed into endless breathless giggles as they both tried on costumes made for five-year-olds, the memory of Tayce in a hi-vis vest, safety goggles and a tiny hard hat one that still makes A’whora laugh if she thinks about it.

Really she’s lucky that she gets to be one of the few people who’s spent the 14th of February with their crush for three years in a row, but not for the reasons she might want. Still, she can live in the delusional daydream she’s taunted herself with many times; how maybe today Tayce will turn up at her classroom door with helium balloons and a teddy, how she’ll say she’s been secretly in love with her for years and how she’s booked them a table at that fancy seafood restaurant in town that just opened up for an actual proper date (not a mate date and not some gal-entines or pal-entines bullshit).

And then Tayce hops into her car in a foul mood with her hair drenched from waiting for A’whora in the rain with no umbrella and a face like a cow’s backside.

A’whora tries to cheer her up. She blasts the R&B that Tayce loves but Tayce just asks her to turn it off, telling her that Kiana Ledé, Mahalia and Ella Mai are exactly what she doesn’t need to hear on Valentine’s Day, endless songs about being in and out of love. So A’whora blasts Charli XCX instead, which works well until shuffle puts on Forever, and then Tayce is in the huff again.

Teaching the year fives doesn’t exactly help her feel much better, A’whora thinks, as they both sit down to lunch together and Tayce turns to her with an incredulous scowl on her face.

“They’ve all got bloody boyfriends and girlfriends!”

A’whora stops eating the pasta salad Tayce has made for her and narrows her eyes inquisitively. “Who does?”

“All the kids in my class. They’ve been going around all day telling me who they’ve paired up with, who’s snogging who, the detailed dating history of these bloody ten year olds. They keep asking me what we’re doing for Valentine’s Day. ‘Are we making cards?’ No! We’re doing more work on decimals because none of you bloody understood it the first three times I explained it to you. Make a card in your own damn time,” Tayce rolls her eyes while A’whora snorts with laughter. Tayce side-eyes her, unimpressed as A’whora tries to defend herself.

“Oh come on, Tayce, you’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny.”

“Is it? Is it though? Is it funny that a ten year old boy can get himself a girlfriend but I can’t?”

Tayce’s words make A’whora’s heart jump a hurdle. She plays it off with a joke. “Yeah, but he’s got a ten year old girlfriend, Tayce. I’m assuming you don’t want that.”

“No, funnily enough!” Tayce shakes her head. She pouts uncharacteristically, tilting her head to the ceiling. “I just…I don’t know, I just want someone that’s there for me. Who’ll always listen to all my shit, someone that makes me smile when I feel like crap. Someone I can just be myself around and have a laugh with whatever the hell we’re doing.”

A’whora nods and doesn’t say what she wants to. We do that. We do all of that together already.

“But I don’t want all the shit of having to actually get to know people, having to go on dates and do the whole talking stage and get my hopes up only to have them let down. I wish I could just…” Tayce sighs, and A’whora’s on tenterhooks wondering what’s coming next. “…I wish I just already had that person, you know?”

You do have that person. I’m that person.

A’whora nods silently and the bell rings signalling the end of their lunch break.

Since she’s not as enraged by Valentine’s day as Tayce, A’whora has planned to get the sequins and glue out and get the kids to make Valentine’s cards. She loves planning tasks like this, mainly because five year olds don’t need much help when faced with a glue stick and a shaker full of glitter, so it means she can put her feet up and have a chilled afternoon. She explains to her class what they’re going to be doing, feels her heart burst with affection as they all get outrageously excited at the very notion of using glitter. She shows them how to fold their piece of paper carefully to make a card shape, and shows them the array of colours they can choose from (and has to explain to some disappointed boys that no, she doesn’t have any blue card so no, their Valentine’s Day card can’t be the colour of Crystal Palace football club).

She’s giving out the different colours of card to her kids and cutting them to size when one of her girls stops, peers carefully at the selection of colours, then looks at A’whora thoughtfully.

“Miss Boyle, are you going to give a Valentine’s card to Miss Szura-Radix?”

A’whora almost slices through her own hand in shock. She looks with incredulity at the little girl in front of her. “Bella! No, of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re best friends and you love her,” Bella shrugs, A’whora’s attempts to shame her into silence obviously having no effect. A’whora tries to scowl, tries to do her best ‘cross face’ despite the fact that the thought of giving Tayce a Valentine’s card sets her heart racing so fast it makes her genuinely think about driving to A&E.

“I don’t…” she starts, until Bella speaks again.

“You told us before that girls can fall in love with girls and you said that we can make our Valentine’s cards for our friends too,” she insists innocently. A’whora finally musters up a frown, thrusts a pink piece of card into her hand.

“Why am I even entertaining this conversation- go and get on with your work, madam!” she says firmly, and Bella walks away with her blank card in her hand, nonplussed.

But as her kids all begin to make their cards and they’re all too caught up in glitter and painting their hands with PVA glue to even need her help with anything, A’whora begins absent-mindedly folding a spare piece of pink card in half. She draws one, two, three love hearts on it, then takes one of the little glue sticks and carefully, neatly, fills them in with splodges of clear glue. She asks one of the little boys sitting at the table opposite her if she can borrow the red glitter when he’s finished with it and he nods his head, A’whora’s heart involuntarily swelling with pride at how good her children are at sharing. She tap-tap-taps the glitter shaker over the hearts on the paper, making sure each one is covered completely before standing the card upright and watching the excess fall off like sparkly snow. Opening the card, she takes the gold shiny gel pen from her desk and writes without really thinking it through.

Maybe if Tayce isn’t going to magically read A’whora’s mind and figure out what she’s been yearning for, A’whora just has to give her a little nudge in the right direction.

When she’s done she folds it back over, stands up, crosses the room to her empty yellow message folder and slides it inside. She asks her class if anyone knows where the year five classroom is because she’s got a message to send there. Fifteen tiny hands fly up and A’whora basically has to whittle the volunteers down to the only two kids who actually know where they’re going, and she gives them the folder and tells them to take it up to Tayce’s classroom.

She doesn’t think about the reality or the implication of what she’s just done, because if she does then she’ll start hyperventilating and not stop until perhaps June of next year. Instead she catches the eye of Julia, the little girl who moved from Poland in January. She can’t speak or write a word of English yet, but the way she’s looking at A’whora with a little smile on her face makes her genuinely wonder if she knows. Sometimes kids can pick up on these sorts of things. She shoots her a little wink and puts her finger to her lips in a “shhh” just in case, and the little girl breaks into a grin that shows two missing front teeth.

The thing about teaching is that it’s a great job for providing a distraction. A’whora can’t think about the card she made for Tayce when she’s cleaning up an entire pot of glitter that Jared spilt all over the carpet, nor can she think about what she’s written in it when she’s comforting Angelica because she didn’t get to finish her card in time for hometime. But the moment she’s waved the kids off and dropped them off to their parents she walks up the stairs from the front entrance with an impending sense of dread which only increases with every new step she takes.

“What the fuck have you done,” she mutters under her breath, earning her a weird look from one of the ladies at the office.

When she gets back to her classroom to find Tayce sitting on one of the tiny tables waiting for her, A’whora feels her heart freeze in her chest and the blood rush to her face, blushing just from seeing her there. Tayce looks in a better mood than she was at lunchtime, though, which is a good start. Maybe she never even read the card. Maybe A’whora’s reception kids took it to the entirely wrong class. Christ, that would be even more embarrassing.

“Hey, boo boo,” Tayce smiles gently at her, as A’whora crosses the room and elects to sit on the desk opposite her so they’re face to face and not too far away. “How’d your afternoon go?”

“Oh, uh, y’know,” A’whora stammers out, blundering her words in the world’s worst attempt at appearing nonchalant. “Lots of glitter, lots of PVA. In fact I’m probably sitting in a massive glittery splodge of it, as are you.”

Tayce laughs, checks the table comedically.

“How was yours? You seem a bit more cheerful,” A’whora continues, looking to the floor and not darling to meet her eyes. “Did decimals finally click with your lot, or…?”

“I am a bit more cheerful,” Tayce smiles, A’whora’s heart racing and soaring in anticipation at the same time. “But not really anything to do with decimals. More to do with the fact somebody made me a really very lovely Valentine’s card.”

Tayce reaches behind her back and produces her card- A’whora’s card- from the table behind her, and A’whora feels her pulse race at her wrists and her heart leap into her mouth to the extent that she’s rendered almost too shy to speak. What the fuck was she thinking? Tayce is probably about to rip the piss out of her for it, it was a huge mistake, and she’s probably thrown their whole friendship away for nothing.

However. There’s a little something in Tayce’s eyes, a little sparkle that makes the grey shine silver. So A’whora shrugs, fixing a carefree smile on her face even though she feels anything but.

“Well, I know you hate Valentine’s day, so…I thought maybe if I gave you a card you’d stop being so mardy about it.”

When she looks at Tayce again she can see there’s a little crack in her perfect armour, the sparkle in her eyes dulled slightly. When she speaks her voice is quiet and nervous, so stripped of its usual hyperactivity and energy that A’whora wonders if it’s even Tayce’s voice at all. “Is that, uh. Is that the only reason you made it?”

A’whora can practically feel herself clam up. She has no idea where Tayce is going with this; to clarify that it was a joke or to clarify that it was serious, and A’whora doesn’t know which one Tayce wants it to be.

“What you wrote,” Tayce continues, her gaze fixed on the glitter-covered carpet and making it even more impossible to figure out her intention. “Was that, like…some girly besties chat, or was it…did you mean it…like that?”

“Yeah, I did,” A’whora says instantly. It’s out before she knows it, a terrifying leap into a freezing cold conversational plunge pool with no life raft to help her climb out. There’s only one way out and it’s Tayce’s reaction, whatever the hell that might be. She snapped her head up the moment the words left A’whora’s mouth, and her eyes are wide in what could be shock but could quite easily be horror.

A’whora doesn’t think she’s ever been more hopeful and frightened all at once. The seconds tick by and Tayce is still frozen in position, and A’whora can literally feel herself inching closer to the edge of the desk in terrified anticipation.

“Jesus Christ say something, Tayce, before I cringe myself to death,” she says breathlessly, her blood feeling almost electric as it races in her veins.

Tayce leans forward, not giving much away as she brings a thumb up to A’whora’s cheek.

“You’ve got a bit of glitter on your face,” she murmurs.

When she leans in and closes the gap between them, A’whora feels herself melt against Tayce’s lips with relief. They’re in the middle of her classroom at quarter part three with the door open and she’s very well aware that anyone could walk in at a moments’ notice, but A’whora doesn’t care. A’whora only cares about the fact that Tayce is kissing her and she’s kissing back, and it’s so hard to believe it’s actually real and not some daydream come to life, and it’s happening on Valentine’s day which makes it even more far-fetched. But every time A’whora starts to think that maybe she’s dreaming she feels Tayce’s thumb stroke her cheek, or their knees bump together, or she brings a hand up to rest at Tayce’s jaw just to make sure it’s all real.

When Tayce pulls away and they smile at each other, giggling and blushing like one of Tayce’s year fives, A’whora only allows herself to properly believe it’s all actually happening when Tayce presses their foreheads together, takes both of A’whora’s hands in her own and murmurs quietly to her what A’whora’s wanted to hear for entirely too long.

“I love you too.”

[lovely-yandere-imagines]

Sorry to bother you,but can I get some headcannons for yandere Rohan and maybe some NSFW? I really like your blog and thank you for your attention. Have a nice day!

I’m really super late with this hah… Sorry for being gone for so long lovelies but hopefully I can make a dent in this ask box of mine so I can reopen request! 

Yandere Rohan Kishibe Headcanons + NSFW

Headcanons

Rohan has never really felt love for someone before, sure he’s admired someone from afar but most of the people that wanted to get close to him always wanted something from him.

If he was honest it was infuriating, maddening even. It went completely against his philosophy that the best manga is based on reality. If he himself couldn’t experience love and the butterflies or fireworks that come with it then how would any of his characters?!

So he started to search for inspiration, the drive to make his manga the very best so that it would be read by everyone was what started this adventure to begin with but after a while of meeting people and having no luck was disappointing, to say the least.

That was until he had found you, you were very interesting to watch from a distance and he even got some inspiration for his main character’s love interest just from observing you.

He watched how you would do little things, how you carried yourself, that way you used certain mannerisms, how when you got excited about something you seemed like you were practically radiating joy, and how you walked like the world was your runway. Almost like you knew he was watching…did you know he was watching you??

After a few weeks of this, he decided he needed more, just watching you was no longer satisfying to him, he NEEDED to know everything about you. weather or not he had to do it by turning you into a book or not was the problem.

It would be much easier but for some reason, he felt he wanted you to be more than just inspiration, had he caught feelings for someone he’d never spoken 2 words to? Had the great Rohan Kishibe fallen in love with a stranger??

No matter, if getting close to you is what he needed to itch his scratch than so be it. So one day he came to a cafe that you frequented with a sketchbook and pen in hand and approached you. 

He introduced himself very bluntly and took a seat across you “Hello there, my name is Rohan Kishibe, I’m a manga artist and was wonder if you would let me draw you..” you couldn’t tell it but his heart was pounding in this chest like a jackhammer.

To his delight you accepted and he got to work, he sat there with you and started a conversation while he put all of your features on paper. Rohan was so happy that you replied to him with so much excitement in your voice he felt himself falling more and more the longer he sat with you.

He took his sweet time drawing you, honestly, it could have taken him just a few minutes to get it done and over with but he wanted this to take as long as possible, he wanted to sit with you for the rest of the day if you’d let him.

But it was over faster than he wanted and soon you had to part ways but not before you made a request. “You see y/n, you have such a beautiful face and I would very much like to sketch you again sometime. Perhaps we could make arrangements and we could continue our conversation as well.”

After that, you two exchanged phone numbers and soon you two meet with each other every Saturday at noon for lunch and then you would go back to his house so you could be his model, and oh hoe he treasured this alone time with you.

He loved that he could touch you and you wouldn’t flinch away from him, how warm your skin was, how beautiful you were in any lighting, how you had such beautiful eyes that could pierce right through his heart.

Soon your relationship took a turn for the best, he had finally managed to ask you out on a real date and you excitedly said yes, oh how happy he was that he could finally call you his and only his.

NSFW Headcanons

Soon your weekly meeting with Rohan had gotten more streamy, but you weren’t complaining and neither was he. He often kisses you as passionately as he can just so he could draw the adorable expressions on your face.

Or he’ll touch you just were you like making you squirm under him and once you get in a pose he enjoys he quickly jot it down and continue to tease you.

Rohan often requests to sketch or paint you nude, this is what he really treasures, especially on a long night away from you when he’s been overworking himself and he needs a bit of relief

He quickly grabs his secret sketchbook that had all the beautiful drawings of you and will daydream that it’s you working his member, that it’s your hand on him and not his, he even imagines your voice telling him what you want him to do to you.

When he does have you in his arms he very passionate but possessive at the same time, often giving you hickeys in very obvious places as well as somewhere no one would ever see them like along your inner thigh and your hips and chest.

Rohan is a bit kinky and would love to tie you down to the bed and ravage you, he loves when you moan and scream his name as he thrusts into you. He’ll ofter ask you who’s fucking you and who’s making you feel this pleasure before following with “MINE MINE MINE!”

He’s also really into shibari, he finds is so beautiful the intricate knots and patterns that can be made with the rope and human body. He’s tied you up in some pretty interesting patterns and then sketched them cause he couldn’t resist but keep something to remember it.

He’s never too rough with you unless you’ve done something to displease him, Rohan will never admit it but he loves bending you over his knee and spanking you. He loves seeing the expression on your face when he swats your ass and how red his hand leaves it.

He’s also pretty good at aftercare as well, he’ll leave the room for a few minutes and come back with tea and snacks, he’ll pull you close to him while you eat and brush the hair behind your ear whispering about how good you did and how perfect you are.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Darling? Good…I know I did”

[fantastic-bby]

Bubbles

Pairing: (F)Reader x Jackson

Word count: 7.4k

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Soulmate AU, it’s a bit of crack esp in the end (I wanted to make this a bit more lighthearted compared to the others)

Summary: Everyone is born with a bottle of bubbles that will help you see your soulmate’s life through their eyes. Jackson’s search for his soulmate intensifies when one of the bubbles shows them breaking down, causing him to try and find whatever he can to connect with his soulmate. Unknowingly, the thing that brings them together is not just the bubbles...

Soulmate series: Jaebeom - Strings || Mark - Inked || Jinyoung - Masked || Youngjae - Drawings || BamBam - Footprints || Yugyeom - Pieces

Masterlist

“Mama! Look!” Jackson tugged on the dress his mother was wearing, holding up his bottle of bubbles. “When I blow bubbles, I can see things!” He excitedly announced when she crouched down to look at him. 

He opened the bottle and pulled out the wand, letting out an excited giggle when the bubbles came out, showing what looked like the view of someone else's life. 

“Jackson, don’t waste your bubbles.” His mother gently scolded him. “These bubbles are special. They show you the life your soulmate is living.” She explained simply, not wanting the eight year old to be too confused. 

“My soulmate?” The young boy asked - still confused as a child would be - when the last bubble had popped, an echo of giggly laughter filling the air. 

“You can see your soulmate’s life through these bubbles. So don’t waste them.” She nodded and guided his hands in closing the cap. “You can never get a new bottle, so use this to find your soulmate.” She smiled when he nodded obediently. 

“Okay, mama.” He hummed out as he eyed the bottle. 

»»————-　　————-««

Jackson laid in bed, his eyes to the ceiling while he let his mind wander. He wasn’t thinking of anything stressful, he was just thinking about the day he had just had. The post-concert buzz was still in his system, his adrenaline was only now starting to wear off as he rested in his hotel room. 

Mark was still up as well, the sound of gunshots and the voices of other gamers filling his ears through his earphones as the soft low-fi music emitted from Jackson’s speakers. A pair of bubble bottles sat on the desk that Mark was sitting at, both left with slightly less than half of the soap mixture. 

“Hey, hyung.” Jackson called as he rolled over to his side so that he could face the older man. Mark let out a hum in response, too focused on PUBG to actually think of words to respond. “Have we made it?” Jackson questioned. 

“Huh?” Mark questioned without taking his eyes off of the screen. The question - at first - just swooped past him before he actually took the time to think about it. “I think we have.” He nodded. “Why are you asking me? You were the one who sang ‘We Made It’.” He joked. Jackson made a face as he sat up on his arms. 

“Hey hyung.” He called once again. Mark let out another hum in response. “How’s your soulmate’s life like?” He asked.

“Uhh…” Mark trailed off as he tried to think about it while also trying to reach the top ten. “Last I checked, they’re a she and she’s a florist.” He stated. Jackson stood up from the bed and moved over to the desk to pick up the bottle labeled ‘Wang Gae’, screwing the cap open and looking into the bottle. “I don’t have much left, but I know where her shop is. It’s in London, so I’m glad that our tour stops there soon.” He muttered out, a curse following when he died ranking eleven out of a hundred players. 

Mark pulled his earphones out and turned to Jackson only to see him blowing bubbles. To both of their surprise, the bubbles played visions of what looked like a dancing studio. A trainee? Jackson thought. Or an already debuted idol? The bubbles wouldn’t play visions of what was currently happening, it would only play what had already happened. It was like looking at the memories of another person. 

“Are they an idol?” Mark questioned as he looked closer at the last bubble that looked like a concert. Jackson followed the last bubble all the way to the ground where he crouched to see if he could see anything he could read in hopes of trying to locate his soulmate, but the bubble popped as it hit the carpeted floor. 

“They could be a performer.” Jackson muttered out as he scratched the top of his head. “I’m almost out of bubbles and I know nothing about them.” He sighed out as he stood up once again, gripping the bottle in his hand. 

“You never get to see what their group name is or where their dance studio is?” Mark questioned as he watched Jackson move back to his respective bed and plop himself onto the soft mattress. 

“I’ve never been able to catch any kind of place or name.” He let out another sigh as he stared at the ceiling. 

“Well, then maybe it’s not time for you guys to meet yet.” He shrugged as he turned back to his laptop screen. 

“I’m fine with waiting, I’m just a bit frustrated that I don’t get to know more about them other than that they’re probably a performer.” Jackson replied with a pout on his face as he turned to his friend. 

“Give it time, Jacks. You’ll find them soon.” Mark reassured him as he plugged his ears once again. Jackson continued to pout at him before rolling over onto his back once again, letting his mind wander as he thought about who his soulmate is. What were they doing right now? Were they resting as he was? 

Maybe they were performing somewhere across the globe, letting the hype of the crowd fuel their adrenaline. Were they thinking about him? That thought made Jackson’s heart flutter. Were they wondering where he was? Could they see his life through their own bubbles? He could feel his heart starting to fill with giddiness the more he thought about it.

“Hyung, do you think my soulmate’s someone famous?” Jackson asked as he rolled over to look at the back of Mark’s chair. 

“They could be.” Mark muttered out in response. 

“What if I’ve seen them somewhere before?” He questioned further, but it was more to himself as he rolled onto his back once again. 

“Anything could happen, and we saw the bubble. It looked like they were performing, right?” He finally tore his attention away from the game for a split second to glance over at Jackson. 

“Should I blow another one to see if I should find out more?” Jackson asked as he sat up. 

“It’s really up to you.” Mark shrugged. Jackson thought about it for a moment before getting off of his bed and moving to the desk once again to pick up his bubble bottle. He opened the cap and lifted the wand to his face, watching as the soap dripped off of the wand and back into the bottle before he drew in a breath and blew. 

Three bubbles flew out, quickly filling the room with more cheers of a crowd. Jackson watched, trying his best to see as much as he could from each bubble. He looked into the bubbles with awe, a smile on his face when he saw the memories of a performer. He saw the way the crowd cheered for his soulmate and he couldn’t help but feel proud. 

His pride and joy were short lived when he saw the last bubble. The sight of knees, blurred vision and soft whimpers made his eyes widen and his lips part as he realised what he was seeing. Jackson felt his heart starting to ache, sharing the pain his soulmate felt. His hand moved to clutch his chest as all he could do was watch.

“Hyung,” Jackson reached behind him and patted Mark’s arm aggressively. “Look.” Mark pulled his earphones out and looked at the bubble, realisation striking him as well. 

“Oh shit.” He muttered out as he leaned closer to see what the bubble was showing them. 

“These bubbles need to give a timeline!” Jackson complained when it reached the ground and popped. “I need to know if they’re still sad!” He turned to Mark with so much frustration, his face looked like it was going to pop. 

“Calm down, these bubbles only play memories, right?” Mark raised his hands up in front of Jackson to try and calm him down, “Then this most likely happened a really long time ago.” He reassured him. Jackson’s shoulder slumped forward and his lips pursed as he wondered about whether his soulmate was still sad. Was it recent? Are they okay now? More questions started to fill his mind. 

A groan left Jackson’s lips as he plopped himself onto his bed, Mark watching as he did. He turned back to his laptop for a moment, not surprised when it said he had already died, and turned it off. He moved over to sit at the side of his bed that was facing Jackson, 

“Jackson, I can’t tell you for sure that the memory wasn’t recent.” He sighed out, causing Jackson to turn to him. “The only thing I can do is hope that it was an old memory." 

Jackson stared at Mark, his eyes shifting back to the bubbles before he let out a groan, 

"I hope they're okay." Mark placed a hand on Jackson's bicep. 

"Also, I saw something interesting." He pointed out as he pulled his laptop from his desk and onto his lap. Jackson scooted himself closer to Mark's bed to get a closer look at his laptop, his arms dangling off the side of the bed. He opened up the browser, his fingers clicking on the keys. "This." faced the laptop to Jackson. 

"A logo?" Jackson's brows furrowed as he eyed the logo. 

"I think I’ve seen this logo once before, it’s an entertainment company." He turned the laptop back to himself and continued to type away, clicking on links and pictures. “Ahah,” Mark turned the laptop around once again, his screen showing the website to a small entertainment company. Jackson slid himself onto the carpeted floor and sat up straighter to read the website. 

“Bubbles Entertainment?” He read out loud, “Cute name.” He chuckled as he continued to look into what artists were under the company. 

“They don’t have that many artists.” Mark pointed out as he moved to sit beside Jackson, the two of them looking into the company. “Maybe it’ll be easier to look for your soulmate.” He hummed as they scrolled through the short list of artists. 

“Hopefully.” Jackson mutters. 

“Any of them make you feel weird or… I don’t know - special?” He questioned. 

“I don’t think we can feel that way about our soulmates through pictures.” He turned to Mark with a weird look on his face. “But, what I can do is try and track them down.” Jackson muttered out as he turned back to the laptop and went through all the artists. 

“Do you remember whether you’ve ever heard their voice?” Mark asked. Jackson stopped scrolling and thought about it. He had heard their voice multiple times, but it was only whenever they were laughing. He had never heard their voice when they were talking because the bubbles only showed happy or sad memories. 

But he could conclude that they were a girl. Jackson had heard her laughter a million times. He loved her laugh. Every time a bubble would show him a memory of her laughing, his heart would either skip a beat or it would beat ten times faster, and he would end up laughing as well. He wondered whether she felt the same way whenever she heard his laugh. 

“I’ve heard her laugh.” Jackson nodded. 

“There’s only a handful of debuted artists, so maybe we’ll be able to find videos of them on YouTube.” Mark hummed out as he took over scrolling through the page. 

“Maybe. Let’s start with her.” 

»»————-　　————-««

“None of them sound familiar.” Jackson let out a whine as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. It was well past midnight and the two had been looking for videos of the artists for almost two hours.

“Let’s continue tomorrow. Maybe you’re too tired to tell.” Mark mumbled out tiredly. He was pretty much asleep already, laying on his bed and going in and out of sleep as he tried his best to stay awake to help Jackson. Jackson let out a tired sigh as he turned off Mark’s overheating laptop and made his way over to the desk to put it away in Mark’s laptop bag. “Don’t worry, Jacks. You’ll find them soon.” He added with a yawn leaving his lips as he moved around under the covers. 

Jackson let out a chuckle as he gently patted Mark’s shoulder, 

“Just go to sleep, hyung.” He urged softly. Mark responded with a tired hum before snores started to erupt from his throat. Jackson glanced over at his bubble bottle, refraining himself from blowing more and wasting the rest of his bubbles. 

Jackson didn’t sleep that night. He spent most of his time awake just staring at the ceiling. The initial feeling of worry started to disappear as he thought about the crowd that he saw through the bubble. He wondered whether she loved the rush of being on stage as much as he did. The exhilarating feeling of performing, the chants of the crowd, the warm feeling that filled his heart whenever he performed - he wondered whether she could feel it as well.  

He spent more time on his phone, scrolling through Twitter to see if he could find any videos of the artists he and Mark found on the entertainment company’s page. To his dismay, he couldn’t find any videos of their voices or laughter that sounded similar to his soulmate’s. 

Jackson let out a quiet sigh, not wanting to wake up Mark as he gently placed his phone onto the bedside table. His tired eyes caught the sight of sunlight slivers streaming through the gaps from the curtains. He sat up and turned to the clock on the bedside table. 7:44. Shit. 

Mark’s phone alarm started to ring, Jackson wincing from the sound of the alarm ringing throughout his tired brain. He raised his hand to his face and rubbed his entire face with his fingers, the sound of Mark moving around in his bed before hearing the alarm turn off. 

“Did you not sleep?” Mark sat up with a yawn, his tired eyes taking notice of Jackson’s face moved his hands away from his face. His state was obvious from the puffiness of his eyes and the tired look he gave his older friend. 

“I couldn’t.” Jackson muttered out as he groggily pulled himself out of bed and made his way over to the windows, pulling back the curtain to let the sunlight wake him up a bit more and revealing the balcony with the view of the city. “I’ll just drink some coffee before the photoshoot.” He squinted his eyes when he saw the sun. 

“Were you thinking about your soulmate the entire night?” Mark asked as he pulled himself out of bed and moved to his luggage bag. 

“Yeah. Do you think she gets the rush that we get when we perform?” He questioned as he turned away from the sliding door. 

“Well, maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. Everyone feels things differently and I assume that even that rush feels different to everyone else.” He shrugged as he stood up with his towel in his hands, “Don’t worry too much about it, Jacks. It’ll start messing with your brain.” He sent a reassuring glance to Jackson before he made his way into the bathroom. 

Jackson kept his eyes on the bathroom door before turning around and opening the sliding door, taking a step out onto the balcony. He leaned over the railing, resting his forearms onto the metal rail and looked out at the view of the city. He continued to wonder what his soulmate was doing right now. 

Was she asleep? Was she performing? He felt a strong sense of loneliness wash over him as he let out a sigh. Jackson looked out to the city, wondering how much longer it would be before he could meet his soulmate.

»»————-　　————-««

“(Y/n) eonnie!” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned around from your laptop and let out a questioning hum when you saw Aisha barging into you and Eunha’s shared bedroom. She practically shoved a pair of concert tickets into your face and you had to back up to prevent her hand from hitting you in the face.

“Stray Kids?” You asked when you read the concert tickets. She nodded her head frantically, 

“Haneul eonnie’s too lazy to come with me, so she told me to ask you to accompany me.” Aisha gave you pleading eyes, knowing that it was difficult for you to say no to the maknae. Especially when she had the ability to make her brown eyes shine like they were now. 

“Sure. It’d be nice to watch them perform.” You shrugged as you turned back to your laptop, finishing up the song you were putting together. “Where’d you get the tickets?” You asked as she sat herself on your bed. 

“I met Jeongin oppa the other day while I was visiting Yuna.” She hummed out. 

“Do JYP artists get free tickets?” You turned around when she didn’t say anything and instead she answered with a shrug. “Did he buy you those tickets?” You asked in shock, your eyes widening. 

“He didn’t say where he got the tickets. The day we met, we started talking on KakaoTalk and he sent me the tickets...” She trailed off as she thought about it. You squint your eyes at her accusingly and she read your mind. “We’re not interested in dating!” Aisha raised her hands up in front of herself. “He still has a dating ban and we debuted eight months ago. Even if we were interested in each other, it would complicate things.” She sighed out. 

“Aisha, you’re only 17. You have a lot of time left.” You reassured her, putting your hand on her shoulder. “I’ll accompany you to the concert and if you have time, we can stay back and talk to him. How’s that sound?” You flash her a smile and her face lit up. She threw her arms around you in a tight hug, 

“Thank you, eonnie!” She squealed. You let out a surprised yelp when she hugged you but a chuckle left your lips as you hugged her back. She pulled away and dashed out of your room. “Haneul eonnie! (Y/n) eonnie’s coming to the concert with me!” You heard her announce excitedly to the other members of your group. 

You turned back to your laptop with a smile on your face, intending to get back to work when you heard a knock on your door. You turned your head to the door to see Haneul and Eunha poking their heads in at you. 

“Yes?” You questioned, turning back to the monitor. 

“You know you’re the best leader, right?” Eunha started as the two stepped further into the room. 

“What did you guys do this time?” You turned your entire body to them slowly, your eyes squinted. Haneul put her hand behind Eunha and pushed her closer towards you,

“Eunha over here decided it would be a good idea to tell Jisung about Aisha’s crush on Jeongin.” She crossed her arms over her chest as she turned to glare at Eunha. 

“You what?” You shot up from your chair and stared at her with your jaw dropped. 

“That’s how Jeongin got the tickets for Aisha.” Eunha muttered out as she avoided eye contact with you. You stared at her for a moment before letting out a groan when you remembered your conversation with Bang Chan a few days prior. 

“That’s why Chan oppa was asking me about our schedule for this week.” You brought your finger to your lips as you thought about it. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/n) eonnie. I thought it would be nice since Aisha doesn’t have a soulmate anymore.” She muttered as she lowered her face, letting her blonde dyed hair fall over her face. You felt your chest tighten for a moment before letting out a sigh and you opened your arms. Haneul’s eyes widened when Eunha hugged you. 

“Next time, if anything like this happens again, talk to us about it, okay?” You soothed her, your hand brushing her hair. She nodded with her face resting on your shoulder. “Now go. Don’t mention this to Aisha, she will kill you.” You pulled away and ushered her out of your room.  

“You’re too forgiving.” Haneul grumbled once Eunha was out of your room. 

“Give her a break, she doesn’t need anymore stress.” You roll your eyes playfully and plop yourself back onto your chair. “Now, I need to finish this song. So, shoo shoo,” You wave your hands at her. She scrunched her nose up before moving over to stand beside you and took a peek at your laptop screen. 

“You’ve been working really hard, (Y/n) eonnie.” She smiled and turned to you. Her hands flew to your face and she squished your cheeks together, “I’m so proud of you! You’re the best leader ever!” She cooed while you tried to move away from her. 

“Haneul, ffffit it,” You whined out, your words struggling to come out properly from how hard she was squishing your cheeks. You managed to pull her hands off of you and you rubbed your cheeks to soothe the ache left by her hands. 

“I’ll leave you to get your work done. Hit me up if you need anything.” She ruffled your hair before leaving your room. You continued your work, your eyes leading astray as they landed on your almost finished bottle of bubbles. 

You knew your soulmate was also an idol, but you’ve never been able to figure out which idol. The bubbles you would blow would usually show crowds and crowds of fans, holding up unidentifiable lightsticks and blurry name banners.

Deciding to give it another go, you picked up the bottle and unscrewed the cap, pulling out the wand. The bubbles that came out showed another crowd. One of the bubbles showed the view of a city from what seemed like a balcony. You looked closer, your heart suddenly feeling lonely. 

You watched the last bubble pop and sat back in your chair in confusion. Could you suddenly feel your soulmate’s emotions? Or were you letting the whole soulmate issue get to your head? You made sure to close the bottle before leaving your room and stepping into the living room of the dorm to see Haneul sitting on the couch and playing with her dog - the dog she insisted on keeping months before you guys even debuted.

Your group - Solaris - had only debuted a few months prior. You were the leader because you had been training the longest out of all of them and were the eldest, Eunha being the first trainee that was supposed to debut with you. Aisha came in after she did and Haneul was the last trainee that was put into your group. 

Despite Haneul being the last, she was the closest with you. You two just clicked when you first met and she was easy to get along with; you just had to get past her dry humour and sometimes offensive jokes. Another idol you had actually gotten close to was Bang Chan. The both of you had the ‘foreign’ aspect and it was easy flowing between the two of you, especially when you shared most of your conversations in English.

“Hey, Haneul.” You sat down beside her and she responded with a hum, too busy with her Rottweiler, Cinnamon. “Can you feel your soulmate’s emotions through the bubbles?” You asked.

“Sometimes. But only when it’s really intense.” She nodded, still playing with her dog. “Why?” She turned her attention away for a split second to look at you. 

“I blew some bubbles and one of them had a view of a city. You know, from a balcony. I think he’s lonely.” You mentioned as you extended your hand when Cinnamon came over to you. You ran your hand over her head. 

“He must feel really lonely then. The last time I felt my soulmate’s emotions, they were so sad I just started crying when I saw the bubble.” Haneul looked between you and Cinnamon. “Have you found anything that could help you find them?” She asked. 

“Not really. I just know that they’re an idol, too, but I already told you that. The bubbles showed another crowd, but I couldn’t see any of the name banners or the lightsticks clearly.” You let out a sigh that was quickly cut off when Cinnamon pounced onto you and started licking your face. “Ack! Cinnamon!” You giggled. 

“What colour were the lightsticks?” She questioned as she pulled Cinnamon off of you. The action still managed to surprise you with how big Cinnamon was starting to get but Haneul picked her up like she weighed nothing. 

“Green.” You hum out as you watched her set Cinnaon onto the ground and toss a ball in her direction. 

“I don’t think that many groups have green lightsticks. Maybe we can try and figure out which groups have green lightsticks, then start from there.” She suggested as she picked her phone up from the coffee table. You rested your head on her shoulder as she started searching up green lightsticks. 

“Okay so there’s BAP, NCT, WayV, Mamamoo and Got7. They’re official colours are green.” She held up her phone in an angle that you could see. “Are you sure it wasn’t Bluetooth?” She questioned, glancing at you but you shook your head.

“I’m sure it was the actual colour.” You clarified. "Oh, and it can't be Mamamoo because I've heard him laugh before." You added as the echoed sound of his laughter filled your mind. 

"Okay, crossing out Mamamoo. Have you ever seen the stage? How many members did you see?" She questioned and turned to you. 

"It's probably not NCT because last time I managed to see the stage, there were only about five to six other guys." You mentioned. 

"NCT has like… a hundred members." She joked with a snort. You slapped her shoulder and gave her a weird look. 

"They're our seniors, don't say that." You chuckled. She let out a laugh before continuing her search. 

“It’s only three groups left. Maybe you’ll be able to recognise the ocean.” She hummed out as she started searching for videos of lightstick oceans. The two of you actually spent quite a while watching videos and looking at pictures in hopes of you being able to identify your soulmate’s group, but to both of your dismay, you couldn’t. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to find him like this.” You sighed out, sinking further into the couch. 

“We’ll be able to track him down, trust me.” Haneul turned to you and gave you a reassuring smile. “Did you see any logos?” She questioned, but you shook your head. 

“I’ve yet to see any logos related to him. It’s always just crowds or his friends - whose faces are always blurred out. If I saw logos, I probably would’ve found him by now.” You let out another sigh.

“You’re 22, eonnie. You have a long way to go.” She reassured you. 

“Most people meet their soulmate by the time they’re 23!” You whined out, your hands moving to cover your face with your hands. 

“You’re overreacting.” She rolled her eyes, “I’m 21 and I haven’t met my soulmate yet.” She pointed out. “Eunha’s 19 and she hasn’t met her soulmate yet.” 

“You guys are younger than me, it’s different.” You moved your hands off of your face and pouted at her. 

“We’ll find him, (Y/n) eonnie, don’t worry about it.” She hummed out just as Cinnamon jumped back onto the couch and sat in her lap. You placed your hand onto the dog’s head and started petting her, 

“I’m just worried he’s feeling lonely. That sense of loneliness was really strong through the bubble.” You sighed sadly. Haneul placed her hand on your back comfortingly.

“We can only hope that memory was old.”

»»————-　　————-««

“Hey, Jackson hyung.” BamBam knocked on the door of his bedroom, causing Jackson to turn around just as he was about to put on his shirt. “Stray Kids is having a concert tomorrow. You wanna go?” The leader questioned. 

“Sure.” Jackson nodded, throwing his shirt on. “I feel like we haven’t seen them in a while. I even have their lightstick.” He pointed to the white box that was sitting on the bedside table. BamBam let out a chuckle as he moved over to Jackson’s bed and sat down, reaching over to pick up the box. 

“Doesn’t it spin?” He questioned as he opened it and pulled out the lightstick. Jackson responded with a nod and a hum, watching as BamBam started to wave the lightstick around. He let out a laugh when he watched the way his younger member started waving it more aggressively to see the star spin. 

“Be careful with it, Bang Chan gave it to me a while ago. I can’t remember whether I asked him for it, but I do remember being a little drunk when I found it on my bed with a sticky note on it.” He chuckled. 

“It spins.” BamBam muttered out as he completely ignored Jackson’s words and continued to wave the lightstick around violently. The lightstick flew out of his hand and hit the wall, falling to the ground with a thud. 

BamBam stared at the wall with wide eyes and his jaw slack. Jackson’s jaw dropped as well, his eyes looking as though they were about to pop out of his skull. BamBam stood up and slowly made his way over to the lightstick, picking it up and carefully placing it on the bed before dashing out of the room. 

Jackson took a deep breath before stepping out of his room. 

“BAMBAM!”

»»————-　　————-««

“Eonnie! Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” Aisha called out from the living room. You looked at yourself through the mirror, checking your outfit one last time. Black tank top, denim jacket and black leggings. 

“The concert doesn’t even start for another four hours. Calm down!” You call back as you pick up your drawstring bag and step out of your room to see Aisha pacing around in the living room impatiently. 

“That’s not the thing! Jeongin oppa said he wants to talk to me before the concert starts.” She whined as she picked up her stuff and grabbed onto your wrist. 

“Woah! Woah! Ouch!” You cry out. This girl was small, but damn was she strong. She continued to drag you out of the dorms - practically against your own will - and into the car. “You’re lucky I’m driving.” You grumbled as you ignited the engine. 

The drive to the venue was mostly filled with Aisha’s occasional giggles while she was talking to Jeongin. You glanced over every once in a while and every time you did, she wore the biggest smile on her face. 

“You’re really into him, huh?” You questioned, glancing over at her. She froze, her smile wearing off of her face immediately. She slowly turned her head towards you and when you glanced over, her face was red. “If you really want to date him, you know we’ll support you.” You added. 

“I know.” She nodded. “I just… if we try dating in secret and we get caught, I’m more worried that something bad will happen to him.” She sighed out. “He still has a dating ban. If we get caught, he’ll have to handle the punishments.” 

“I can talk to Chan. He’s literally everyone’s number one fan, especially when it comes to relationships.” You let out a snort. Aisha giggles at that. “Just be careful if you do. Maybe if you’re dating long enough until his dating ban ends, you can go public. I know his fans would support you guys and I also know that our fans find you too precious to not support.” You glance over at her to give her a smile. 

“Thanks, (Y/n) eonnie.” She returned the smile. It didn’t take much longer before you reached the venue and Aisha reached into the glove compartment to hand you a mask. “Do we have to wear caps too?” She questions as she rummages through her backpack. 

“It’s safer that we do. Our fans already know I’m close with Chan, if they see us backstage and you’re seen with Jeongin, it might cause a few rumours to sprout.” You nod and put on your own cap. “We can take them off during the show.” 

The two of you step out of the car, walking past the Stays that were lined up outside of the venue and make a quick beeline towards the entrance. Approaching the guard, Aisha held up the tickets as well as her conversation between her and Jeongin, the two of you pulling your masks down briefly for them to confirm your identity. One of the guards nodded and brought you in, leading you backstage where the group was warming themselves up. 

“Chan oppa!” You called out when you saw the blond hair sticking out among the backstage crew and security guards. Bang Chan turned around when he heard your voice and a smile broke onto his face as he made his way over to you. 

“(Y/n)! You made it!” He pulled you into a platonic hug, his hand patting your back before pulling away. “Where’s Aisha?” He asked when he took notice of the missing girl. Your eyes widened and you looked around, only then realising that she was not beside you where she was before. 

“I swear she was right here.” You muttered out with your brows furrowed in confusion. Chan looks around as well, trying to see if he could spot her anywhere. 

“Oh, there she is.” He pointed out. Your eyes followed where he was pointing to see the young brunette talking to Jeongin at the other side of the room. “You know that he likes her too, right?” He stated. You purse your lips as you turn back to him. 

“She’s having this crisis over wanting to date him or not because of your dating ban.” You let out a sigh as the two of you watch the maknaes from afar. 

“He is seriously into her, he would not shut up about how excited he was when she said she could come today.” The leader chuckled, his hands resting on his hips. “Oh, speaking of idols coming today, our sunbaenims are coming too.” He turned to you. You give him a questioning look. “BamBam said he’s coming and he’s bringing Jackson hyung with him.” 

“Oh?” You hummed, your heart suddenly feeling weird at the mention of Jackson. 

“Yeah, they should be here any minute.” Chan said as he looked around, hoping that maybe he could spot his sunbaenims anywhere. To his dismay, they actually hadn’t arrived yet as BamBam was spending too much time choosing a jacket to wear. 

“BamBam, we’re going to be late.” Jackson groaned as he walked into BamBam’s dorm room to see him browsing through his wardrobe. 

“I need to find the right jacket, hyung. Give me a second.” He casually said as he pulled out another jacket and put it on, moving to check it in the mirror. Jackson stared at the younger male with squinted eyes. 

“It’s a concert, Bam. We’re not going to a fashion show.” He joked but left the room when he got no response. Jackson stepped into his own room, seeing Mark laying on his bed and scrolling through his phone. 

“You should be used to BamBam taking forever when getting ready.” Mark teased as he looked up from his phone when he heard Jackson enter the room. Jackson let out a huff in response and was about to plop himself down onto the bed when he caught a glimpse of his bubble bottle sitting on his bedside table. 

Jackson picked up the bottle and opened it to take a peek inside. He felt his heart starting to ache when he saw there was only enough liquid left for at least two or three more uses. He picked up the wand, second guessing whether he should use some of the last few bubbles. 

He decided to just blow anyway, watching the bubbles blow out of the wand and into the air. Mark glanced over when he heard the sound of a crowd chanting as well as talking fill the room and scooted himself closer to see the bubbles. 

“Still nothing, huh?” Mark muttered out when he looked into one of the bubbles to see what looked like Jackson’s soulmate scolding one of her band members. Jackson watched silently with wide eyes as he watched one of the bubbles. His hand reached behind him and to try and pat Mark, grabbing his attention. 

“Isn’t that Bang Chan?” Jackson asked softly. Mark moved closer and his own eyes widened when he saw the familiar blond leader talking with Jackson’s soulmate. 

“It is.” He nodded slowly as they watched what looked like them hugging and talking. 

“Do you think she’s at the concert?” He shot up with realisation, his eyes so wide it looked as though they would fall out of his skull. Mark was startled at how quickly he stood up and looked between the bubble and his bandmate before shrugging. 

“There’s a possibility she is. If she’s talking to Bang Chan now, then that means she’s probably already there.” Jackson didn’t waste anytime. He scrambled out of the room and barged into BamBam’s room, startling both BamBam and Yugyeom at his sudden intrusion. 

“BamBam, we have to go NOW!” BamBam watched with his jaw dropped, unable to find a way to respond to Jackson’s frantic state and resorted to grabbing a random denim jacket and following Jackson out of the dorms. 

They reached the venue quickly - unfortunately with Jackson driving like a mad man and BamBam screaming in the passenger seat out of fear when Jackson nearly crashed the damn car. When they reached the venue, Jackson was way ahead of BamBam and practically running into the stadium, the guards moving immediately when they saw who the pair were. 

“Hyung, why are we moving so fast?” BamBam questioned. Jackson turned to him, only then realising he had never explained what was causing his frenzy. 

“I think my soulmate is here and I’ll answer more questions later, I just need to know if she’s here or not.” He answered quickly, leaving poor BamBam barely any time to actually process what was going on. Jackson rushed to the backstage, stopping at the changing rooms and ran towards Bang Chan - almost tackling the poor boy to the ground. 

“Jackson hyung?” Chan turned to him with confusion when he saw how panicked Jackson was. 

“Were you hugging someone?” Jackson grabbed onto Chan’s biceps and was just about ready to shake the young leader. Chan stared at him in utter shock, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to make sense of what was going on. “Who were you hugging? Where is she?” He actually shook him back and forth, and with his strength, he pretty much lifted Chan off of his feet. 

“Hyung! HYUNG! PUT ME DOWN!” Chan cried out as he tried to pull himself out of Jackson’s  grip, grabbing the attention of everyone in the changing room. He finally put him down and Chan stared at him. 

“Chan, you have to tell me who you were hugging and if she was here.” Jackson demanded. Bang Chan. 

“I was hugging a friend of mine!” He threw his arms up in front of him and took a defensive step back, afraid Jackson would try and lift him up again. “Her name’s (Y/n). Jeongin invited one of her group mates so she came with her.”

“Where is she? Is she still here?” His eyes held so much desperation that Chan couldn’t even question why he wanted to know where you were. 

“Y-Yeah. She’s somewhere around here, probably talking to Felix or looking for Aisha and Jeongin.” He shrugged, genuinely unsure of where you had gone to after you chased down Aisha when both she and Jeongin disappeared from the room. 

“Thanks, Chan, I love you!” Jackson dashed away from him, BamBam approaching Bang Chan. 

“What’s up with him?” Chan asked BamBam. 

“He said his soulmate might be here.” He shrugged. 

Jackson scoured the changing room, letting out a frustrated groan before leaving to search the rest of backstage. He opened and looked into every changing room before stopping at one of the storage rooms, pressing his ear against the door when he heard voices. His heartbeat picked up - weird how it could get higher than it already was -  before he threw the door open. 

Jackson almost had a heart attack at the sight of Jeongin and Aisha kissing in the dark. He let out a scream and the two also let out a scream when he did. 

“What are you doing?!” Jackson questioned with his arms out in front of him. “Jeongin, you’re a baby! You,” He gestured to Aisha, “You look like a baby! Don’t kiss! Stop that!” He scolded them. They stared at him, both faces completely red out of embarrassment. 

A pair of footsteps quickly approached Jackson and he was too in shock to turn to see who it was. You pushed past him and your eyes widened when you saw Aisha standing in the dark room, her eyes widening even further when she saw you. 

“Eon-”

“Lee Aisha, what are you doing?!” You exclaimed, your mind feeling like it was about to explode from the sight before you. You turned to Jeongin, his eyes avoiding eye contact with you and staring at the ground. “Oh no, no, no, no. You’re coming with me.” You pushed past Jackson, but out a yelp and jumped back when your skin jolted. Jackson did the same, his hand flying to rub the spot that stung from the jolt. 

He was about to say something but stopped when the world stopped moving around him. You stared at him, your mind growing fuzzier the more you looked at him. You stepped closer to Jackson, your head tilted as your brain tried to make sense of what was going on. You reached your hand out and took his hand, your skin tingling against his. 

“Oh,” You gasped in realisation and looked down at his hand before turning back up to him. His lips formed an ‘O’ when he realised it as well. 

“You’re my soulmate.” He muttered out as he interlocked his fingers with yours. His lips curled up in a smile as he processed the realisation. “You’re my soulmate.” He beamed, taking your other hand. “Oh!” He pulled you into a hug which you returned happily. “I’ve been watching you through your bubbles and I’ve been trying to track you down since forever!” 

You relished in the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you, but you were surprised when he lifted you off of the ground and spun you around as though you weighed nothing. He put you back onto your feet and his hands moved to gently cup your face, his brown eyes taking in your features like an excited puppy. You enjoyed the feeling. 

“I-I’m (Y/n).” You giggled out when his hands moved down to hold your hands, his hands feeling perfect holding yours. 

“I saw you through your bubble, you were hugging Chan, so I came here as fast as I could.” He explained, biting his lip to try and hold back his excitement and happiness. “I’m pretty sure I scared the entirety of Stray Kids and Yugyeom and BamBam, but it was worth it. I finally found you. You have no idea how hard I’ve been trying to find you.” He babbled. You let out another giggle. 

“I’ve been trying to hunt you down as well, but your bubbles only started showing your concerts only recently.” You explained softly, your eyes moving down to watch the way his thumbs were gently running over your knuckles. “I saw the lightsticks in the crowd, but I couldn’t find what I was looking for. Nothing seemed to match.” You looked back up with the biggest smile on your face as you looked at him. 

“That was the same for me. Mark hyung managed to identify the logo for your entertainment company, so we tried tracking you down. But none of the videos of any of the artists felt familiar and none of them sounded like you.” He explained. “So, when we saw Bang Chan, I just couldn’t hold anything back.” His grip on your hands tightened slightly, “I’m so glad I finally found you.” 

“I am too.” You chuckled. You caught Aisha and Jeongin trying to slip out of the room from the corner of your eye and both you and Jackson reached out, grabbing the shoulders of the maknaes to stop them from leaving. “And I can’t believe it was because we caught a pair of kids trying to play 7 minutes in heaven.” 

[starlightsearches]

A New Life Pt. 4

Whoops, I said that there would be no more of the Kylo Ren soulmate AU but apparently I lied! This came to me earlier today and I had to write it. Hope you like it! 

(Here’s the first part, second part, and third part if you missed them)

Requests are closed for now ✨

Kylo Ren X female reader soulmate! AU Pt. 4

AN: Some language, and it’s vaguely NSFW towards the end! 

Ren never touched you first. Not in private, and certainly not in public. It was a compromise of some kind, you assumed, that he had made with himself. You knew he worried about it, even now—the ridiculous notion that he would somehow scare you off, that he would hurt you. So you initiated all contact, and you were gentle, and you let him be gentle. You weren’t too bothered by it. After all, there were exceptions to every rule.

When the general was around, Ren was always touching you. Holding you by the waist, resting a hand on your shoulder, at the back of your neck: if General Hux was in the room, you were never out of Ren’s reach. This was true now, too, his hand solidly on your back at your waist as you board the transport, headed to Ryyn with Phasma and the general.

It’s exciting, to finally go somewhere, to have the opportunity to be somewhere besides the Finalizer. Ren left the ship fairly often and the time you spent by yourself—sometimes for weeks on end—was . . . boring. Lonely. When he had mentioned that he would be going off base again after only returning a few days ago, you had been crushed, a feeling that had been immediately replaced with joy when he had asked if you would like to join him.

The general had grumbled, of course, when he saw that you would also be coming but you paid him no mind. He was always complaining about something, making snide remarks when you were there, and even though it drove Ren crazy, you could see through the act; the man was very obviously lonely. He tried to hide it, and did hide it successfully, from Ren and the captain. But not from you.

Against your better judgement, you liked the general, or at least, you found him interesting. He may have been rude and judgemental, but it was hard for you to take him seriously. He reminded you sometimes of the zeefas your family had kept for milk and meat back home—grumpy old animals, but harmless enough. You had a knack for working with livestock like that; it never took long before even the most stubborn of them were eating out of the palm of your hand. Apparently your charms were limited to farm life; despite the concerted effort you had put into being as inoffensive as possible, the general showed no signs of warming up to you in the slightest. Which was too bad, because part of you believed that—if he gave you a chance—you might be friends. And you’d really like to have a friend.

You take your seat on the transport, strapping in, and Ren sits beside you, only letting go of you for a moment to secure his own restraints before replacing his hand on your knee. Hux rolls his eyes, finding a seat on the other side and Phasma joins him. The anticipation in your chest only grows more potent as the pilot prepares for launch, and you can hardly wait for what was in store. You were going to Ryyn—a place you had only heard about in wild stories—to the capital city Cearrau; you would be staying in the palace there. You would meet the queen and attend the ball she would hold in honor of the First Order guests. You would wear the dress you had picked out especially for the event, blood-red and beautiful, and you would be on Ren’s arm the entire night. It was sure to be incredible.

“I still don’t see why you’re coming,” Hux says, leveling a glare in your direction, and Ren’s grip tightens on your knee. He’s ready to spit out some retort, you can tell, but you stop him with a hand gently rested on his arm.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, and he relaxes minutely before you address the general, “I’m actually very excited for the trip, General. I think it will be interesting.” Hux scoffs in response and opens up his data pad, choosing to ignore you.

Everyone settles into their seats as the ship launches and you decide to distract yourself, pulling out your sketchpad and a stylus, tapping the end of it against your mouth, deep in thought. You could draw Ren, of course, but you had plenty of drawings of him, stacks and stacks of them—enough to cover the walls of your quarters if you wanted. You didn’t even need a reference anymore, the exact shape of his nose and the planes of his cheeks appearing easily to you from memory. You need something new, some kind of a challenge.

The general was obviously out of the question, for a number of reasons. For one, he isn’t sitting still enough for you to complete a proper sketch, shifting from one position to the next every few minutes, engrossed in something on his data pad. Plus, you’re afraid of what would happen if he caught you, what insult he would come up with that would send Ren into a rage. Not worth the risk. The captain, on the other hand, might work. 

She is lounging, her helmet resting on the wall behind her, maybe sleeping—it’s difficult to tell with the mask on, but her pose is dynamic and the reflection of the lights in her chromium armor adds depth and shadows where there are none. Your hand begins to move across the flimsi without your direction, working to capture the cool authority she always seems to emanate.

Ren dozes next to you, occasionally rolling his head to the side to check your progress, drumming his fingers lightly against your thigh in approval. The likeness is pretty good, although it’s lacking something in your opinion. You wish that you had brought your paints with you; maybe you’d have better luck communicating the shine of her armor in a different medium.

“What are you doing?” General Hux says, and you can feel the pressure of his gaze on you, although you don’t return it, still focused on the captain.

“Sketching,” you respond, adding a little depth in the background, “but I can stop if it’s bothering you.” 

“Sketching?” he asks, and for the first time since you’d met him, there is no trace of disdain in his voice. In fact, he sounds intrigued. You place the stylus behind your ear, passing him the sketchbook, and he reaches for it skeptically. You watch him closely as he studies the drawing, waiting anxiously to see how he’d react. 

“Hmm,” Hux says after a long moment, returning the book to you and studying you with his eyes narrowed, like he’s trying to read something from a distance, “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Home,” you say, trying your hardest not to seem too eager now that he had initiated a conversation, “my father was an artist.”

“I thought both of your parents were farmers,” the disdain is back, but cracking a little, a glimmer of genuine interest showing through, and you laugh gently to show that you’re not offended.

“We’re all farmers where I’m from, but he spends his free time drawing. Painting, too. I usually prefer paints, but they’re difficult to transport.” You stop yourself, looking at your drawing again, afraid that you’re rambling, and the general sits in silence for a moment, his eyes still on your sketchbook.

“I could paint you,” you venture, not wanting to lose the tenuous connection you had created,” if you want, when we get back to the Finalizer? You have such striking features; I think they’d translate well to the page.” You’re laying on the praise very thick, you know, and you’re worried it will come off as too much, but the general flushes pink, and you smile, the thrill of victory sharp in your veins. Was this all it would take to endear the general to you? To make him stop hating you? You wish you had known that weeks ago.

“That would be fine,” Hux responds, with a small cough, guarding his expression against your obvious cheer, but your spirits cannot be dampened by his apparent indifference. Pleased, you go back to sketching, another one of Ren this time, happy with the progress you’ve made with Hux. Happy, that is, until you notice that Ren had pulled away from you, releasing his grip on your leg.

The ship drops out of light speed and begins to make its approach, but you take no notice, a coldness settling beneath your skin. You nudge him gently with your knee, but there’s no response. He’s motionless, quiet, staring forward with an obstinate amount of determination, and he stays this way, avoiding you as the four of you make your way out of the transport. You can’t help but notice that Ryyn is beautiful, the warmth and the wind greeting you as you step out onto the palace grounds, but the heat the sun offers refuses to clear away any the chill you feel.

After parting with Hux and Phasma, you and Ren are led by a servant to your guest quarters, and you prattle nonsensically as you walk hoping to put the man at ease—and hoping to release some of your own nerves as well. Ren says nothing, silent as a shadow, and you watch as the palace’s other inhabitants steal glances from around corners as you pass, eager to get a glimpse of the infamous Jedi Killer.

The room is lovely—and enormous—with large, open windows and an even larger balcony, overlooking the valley below. You move tentatively towards the view, but Ren doesn’t join you, choosing instead to stand ominously in the center of the room.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, sitting on the bed and running your hand over the covers. There’s distance between you, not only physical, and you want to address it now before it grows. Was he really so mad that you had spoken to Hux?

“It’s nothing,” he says, but he’s still wearing the mask, and you assume it’s to keep you out. This is the first time you’ve seen him like this, and it’s beginning to scare you. This was how he acted with other people, not with you.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” you say, standing from the bed but moving no closer, “please? I know you’re angry with me. I want to make it right.” He faces away from you, his powerful shoulders rolling as he moves to lift the helmet from his head, discarding it on the floor with a thud. The sound makes you jump, and you watch him perceptively, hoping to read the answer to your question in his expression, but he still guards his face from you. “Why don’t you go find the general?” he says harshly, and you catch the barest glimpse of his profile as he looks over his shoulder, “since you find him so interesting.” Your jaw drops in shock.

“Are you jealous?” you ask, and he doesn’t respond, but you can tell that you’re right. Despite the tension, a smile threatens its way onto your face and you smother it with your hand.

“It’s not funny,” he says, picking up thoughts but still avoiding your eyes.

“I know it’s not,” you respond, back in control of your mind and your expression, “I’m just surprised.” He laughs, but there’s no joy in it, a short, angry sound that bounces back at you off of the polished walls. 

“I just don’t want him to hate me, that’s all,” you say, quietly. You’ve seen Ren angry before, but never like this. Never at you. But there’s something else besides anger, and that’s what scares you more. You can feel it roll off of him, see it clearly in his posture; he’s doubting your love for him.

“You know you have nothing to worry about, right? I could never want someone else the way I want you.” His shoulders relax slightly, and you’re able to breathe again, now that he’s listening to you. It’s difficult to see him this way, catching brief glimpses of his fears. He thinks you’ll leave him, but that would never happen. You repeat yourself once again, hoping that this time he’ll finally believe what you’re saying. “I only want you.”

Those words work like magic, or maybe it’s the feeling behind them, but either way the doubt is gone, and he’s facing you with a look in his eyes like pure sin, his anger transformed into something else. You hold his gaze and the intensity of it goes straight to the space between your legs, weakening you at the knees.

“How?” he asks, stalking towards you, impossibly large and your heart beats loudly in your chest. You feel for a moment in some wild part of you that you should run, but you're frozen in place, and you like it. A lot. Now this is a side of him you’ve never seen before.

“How what?” you ask; your voice shakes when you speak. He laughs, low and deep and through his teeth as he bites one glove off and then the other, a warm hand finding its way to your waist and gripping the fabric of your dress tightly, pulling you closer. The first point of contact.

“Tell me how you want me,” he whispers, staring you down with his unfathomable eyes, his tongue darting out over full, pink lips. There are no thoughts in your head now, your mind is completely empty and for a moment you try to remember how you landed yourself in this particular situation. Maybe, if you remember, you’ll be able to work him up like this again.

He steps closer, his body like a brick wall against yours and you stumble backwards, falling onto the bed with a light bounce, propped up on your elbows, still in shock that he’s acting this way, and that you don’t want him to stop. He smirks, gripping both of your knees with burning fingers, sliding his hands under the hem of your dress and climbing up your thighs, leaning in close over you to whisper in your ear.

“Tell me what you want,” he says again, and the feeling of his mouth on your ear sends vibrations through your whole body; your eyes roll back with anticipation.

“Fuck,” it’s the only word that you can think of right now, your mind wholy preoccupied by the feeling of his thumb as it traces small circles over the skin your inner thigh, inching ever higher.

“That’s what I thought,” he kisses you hard, hard enough to bruise and you moan, open-mouthed, a deep, desperate sound you had never made before.

“Shit,” you mumble, and he doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath before he’s moving, his mouth working down your jaw and to your chest with hot, harsh kisses. You try to relax into it, into the work of his hands, still below your skirt, but he draws a yelp from you when you least expect it, biting at the skin just above your breast. He looks up at you, anger from before gone and replaced with a strident need, daring you to beg for more.

“Someone might hear,” you say quietly, your voice hitching slightly with the movement of his fingers. The windows are open after all, and with the way he’s acting, you know you won’t be able to stay quiet.

“I hope they do,” he says, nudging a space between your knees with his shoulders, finding a place between your legs. “I hope they all hear you begging for me, and I hope that by the end of it everyone on this damn planet knows that you’re mine.”

[somekpopthingsuknow]

Could you do a mamamoo reaction to their s/o coming onto them backstage after a performance? Thanks 🖤

Thanks for the request! It's my first work with Mamamoo, hope you will like it!

CW: Hwasa's reaction is a bit smutty, but nothing really explicit

MAMAMOO REACTION : Their s/o is coming onto them backstage after a peformance

Solar | Kim Yongsun:

She's too much excited. If her other members hadn't asked her to stop moving, she would be jumping everywhere. She doesn't actually know why, but she has a lot of energy today, even after performing.

Because her other members want some peace to relax after the stress and the adrenaline after her concert and because Yongsun wants very much to move, she goes outside the dressing room.

She walks a long time, jumps a bit around her, happily greeting everyone she meets (and makes some make-up artists blush a bit).

At the corner of some room, she finds you, apparently lost.

"Ahhh!" you scream. You didn't expect to find your girlfriend here. "Yongsun?"

Her face lights up, like every time she sees you. She's like a puppy every time you're here And it's even truer when she's already happy.

"[Y/N]! What are you doing here?" she exclaims.

"Well, actually I wanted to congratulate you for your performance because you were incredible but...I've lost myself," you explain as she hugs you.

She laughs a bit, listening to your quick story.

"Don't laugh!" you whine. "It's huge here, there are so many rooms and so many people!"

"I know this," pouts Youngsun. "Don't tell anyone, but it happens to be late because I was so lost," she whispers to you like it's the biggest secret of all time.

"But anyway!" she adds before you can answer to her. "Do you want to hang out tonight? I know a very cozy place with delicious meals-" As she speaks, she takes your hand and leads towards the exit.

"W-Wait Youngsun!" She slows her pace, but don't stop. "Aren't you tired? You performed so well, how can you ever have stamina?"

She pauses like she's thinking very deeply about what you say. "Well, I'm never tired for spending time with you." She laughs and starts walking again.

Once you are at the restaurant, she takes your hand, kisses her and says: "I'm very thankful you had going to see me backstage. And I wanted to take you on a date but maybe the next time we can chill in the dressing room? The sofa is sooo comfy!"

Moonbyul:

She worked so hard for her solo comeback, you and she hadn't had a proper date for so long. She's sad about it and you are as well. But you're so proud of her, or how much hard work she puts in her music and she's so happy you understand how her career is important. But she craves your affection.

It is her first solo stage for her comeback "Eclipse". It's a badass concept and it suits very well your girlfriend. And her black outfits do a very good job.

When she goes back to her dressing room, she's on cloud nine. She always enjoys the cheering of her fan and how it makes her confident. However, she can't help but think something is missing: you.

If her members were here, she would be complaining about that, about she misses how you cute snores when you sleep next to her, the way you giggle when she makes a bad joke. But no one is there, except her makeup artist. So, she just pouts.

"Moonie ~ Why are you pouting?"

She almost jumps in surprise when she hears your voice and her make up artist, who was removing her make up before she moves, curses in her breath.

"[Y/N]!" she almost screams in joy and, as she jumps towards you, her make up artist gives up.

"You were incredible Moonie!" you begin to praise your girlfriend. She's very tactile, so she instantly hugs you and settles her nose in your neck.

"I'm glad you here, love," she says, smiling. "I'm sorry I was very absent these days."

"You worked so hard, it's normal!" You immediately answer. "Your dance was on top and you were so charismatic... Actually, you still are very charismatic," you add while you laugh.

"I have to perform tomorrow again," she says, holding your two hands. "But after my promoting time, how about we go on vacation? Somewhere nice, maybe in some mountains, in calm and peace."

"If it's you, I will go anywhere," you kiss her lips. "Mountains are perfect for me."

"And you are perfect."

You blush so hard she can't help but laughs hard.

"Come sleeping at home tonight!" you command ask her.

Jung Wheein:

Japan is one of the countries Wheein loves the most. People scream and sing so hard, it's appealing to see how much your fans love your work.

She also really appreciates this day because it's the last concert of her tour. Don't get me wrong, she likes touring, and singing and see how people are happy to meet her. She loves the adrenaline and the particular bond with her bandmates.

But, unfortunately, one capital thing misses on this tour: you. You couldn't come with her. So, during months, she only could just talk with you with phone calls and facetime. Which was nice! But she craves your physical contact.

So it's the last concert and in two days, she's home so she can show you her love in all the ways that come in her mind.

When the concert is finished, she goes backstage to change her outfits for more comfortable ones. She doesn't expect to see you in her dressing room, playing some games on her phone on the couch.

Once you see her, you turn off your phone and greet her with a warm hug.

"[Y/N]? What are you doing here?" she asks. She is surprised to see you but she's also so happy.

"Well, I finally had a day off so I decided to come because I missed you too much. I saw the beginning of your concert and you were doing so well! Here, I could just listen, but I know you were the best on the stage."

She blushes a little, pleased by your praises. She's thankful to have such a supportive s/o by her sides.

"The other did well too-" she argues.

"Obviously they did well. But you are my favorite and you will always be my favorite." You lean and kiss her cheeks.

"Well..." starts Wheein. "Tomorrow's off for me as well. What about exploring Tokyo?"

"I would love that!" you exclaim.

Someone, most likely one of Wheein's bandmates, yells something like "get a room" when passing near the open door. You both chuckle and quickly start to kiss each other again.

Hwasa | Ahn Hye Jin:

Hyejin loves being on stage, under the spotlights. She loves getting the attention and support of the public. But even if she likes it, it doesn't mean she's never nervous about it.

It was the stage for the MMA. It's a huge event, and everyone's eyes have been on her, the whole Korean hell, even the world, had eyes on her. It's a bit stressful, to say the least.

Generally, she's good at managing stress but this time, she couldn't help but bitting his nail. She tries to stop it because her manicure is done and it is idiot to erase such beautiful patterns in her nails. But she can't, she is a bit too nervous. She wonders what people will think of her performance, if she has messed something. Usually, she doesn't care about hate, but well, it's a human need to crave validation.

She hears a noise coming from the door. She looks up and-

You are there, with your cute face and your adorable smile. She can't help but a wide smile appears in her face. Instantly, she feels the weight in her heart lights.

"Hey, [Y/N]" she greets you.

"H-Hey Hyejin," you reply. Your girlfriend is stunning and you feel your cheeks blush. She grins, knowing that her outfits made your wonders some things.

"Come here, little one," she spreads a bit her legs, making you a room to sit on her lap. Forehead against forehead, she whispers. "I'm very happy you come to see me."

She lets her hands go on your hips (and maybe a bit on your ass). "Did you like my performance?"

You make a little laugh. "You were incredible. Beautiful. Amazing. Full of talent. You, actually."

You don't know how much your words count for her, how knowing that you enjoy her performance makes her happier.

"I didn't miss anything," you add.

"Anything?" She kisses your lips and bites them a bit. "Really?"

You chuckle, kiss her lips and lean a bit against her. She caresses slowly your thighs. "Thank you [Y/N]. I'm happy you're here."

"Always, love, always." You touch her hair, play with them a bit.

"How about we go home as soon as possible?" she asks.

"Yes."

Requests are open!

[prinsdeasmo]

Happy Birthday Asmo!

ah, the demon who stole my heart www,,, for him i will do anything. so i wrote a drabble! it’s a little angsty, a little stuffy because the last time i wrote something within in a day it was to make fun of my friend and i’s ocs, but most of all! it’s sweet! hopefully!

im on mobile so h o p e f u l l y this line break works? i had to get google chrome for this ;;

please enjoy, though!

A Lovely Surprise

Living thousands of years brings out the extravagant, the luxurious side of you. You’ve lived this long already, why bother with being humble? You’re going to live even longer, so break out the champagne and $20 million debt your older brother is in and live a little! Or a lot! Even, possibly, too much.

But, thousands of years truly is a long time. Though you become accustomed to the sluggish movements of the hours, how the sun seems to never truly set in these unending years of living—there’s only so much you can see. After a while, you’ve seen it all. You’ve seen every face, every present, every colorful party streamer strung from the ceiling and draping from the chandelier; you’ve seen every punch bowl, every spiked drink, and every person puking their heart out at a party. The music all blurs to one, incomprehensible drone of instruments and screeching vocals, and the taste of cake becomes one akin to sampling recycled cardboard.

Asmodeus has seen it all. He’s been given every present, every declaration of love, every moment of insatiable pleasure, yet he still feels nothing on such a grand day as today. The most popular bands and artists of the Devildom play live on a stage of gold glitter and pink lights, surrounded by swooning fans painted in skin tight clothes and smokey eyes. The chandelier of crystal and quartz reflect the faint light of the Devildom’s sky throughout the room, shapes projected onto walls adorned in jewel encrusted banners.

Happy Birthday Asmodeus!

they read, his symbol of lust painted alongside those words. Those words he’s seen countless times.

This party is for him, of course, Asmo spent weeks planning and preparing for it. Everyone here is for him, naturally, handpicked by the birthday boy himself. They’ve all given him gifts and congratulations, they’ve showered him in compliments and adoration. Asmodeus lives for these moments, where everything and everyone is focused on him. It’s all about him.

So why is he so melancholy? Today is the happiest day of his year, the day celebrated only for him. Yet every time he looks up at the scene around him, he feels the need to down yet another flute of Demonus. How many has he had so far? It’s hard to keep count when the strobe lights flash in his eyes, and his own thoughts distance him even further from his party.

Even though everyone is there for Asmo’s birthday, it feels like no one is there for Asmo. That nobody cares it’s his birthday, a day they’ve all seen one too many times.

Suddenly infuriated, Asmodeus finds himself outside the venue. The cool, almost night-like air of the Devildom catches in his curls, softly brushing them against his face. With a sigh he leans over the metal railing protecting one from falling into the canal below. The dark waters of the Devildom rippled his reflection, a downcast expression lingering on his features.

One hand with his fingers woven in his hair, the other propped over the railing, still cupping the flute of Demonus, Asmodeus stares at himself. How pathetic is he to feel so empty on a day dedicated to him? Luckily no one at the party would seem to care if he was gone, a downcast Asmo doesn’t match the aesthetic of a normal Asmo.

“Hey Asmo.”

He’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear someone approach behind him, only their soft call that startled him. Asmodeus quickly turns around, a charming smile smoothing his face. Behind him stands the human; Asmo realizes he hadn’t seen them at the party earlier.

“There you are!” He clasps his hands together, “I was wondering when you’d be here, I got so lonely waiting for you~.”

The human blushes at his cooing, their eyes shifting to ground.

“It took longer than I thought to get ready,” they trail off.

Under his attentive gaze the human shifts nervously. Asmodeus had already noticed their washed and curled hair, and their silky outfit that draped off their shoulders, but he hadn’t noticed their face. Their face that the human usually paid such little attention to. Asmo always chastised them, Your beauty is your face!, he’d say, but they never did anything about it.

Today, their skin glows in the soft light of the Devildom, their eyes shine with fondness, and their cheeks flush with embarrassment. Though his human always looks adorable, today they look exceptionally beautiful.

A beat of silence passes. “Don’t you just look adorable~. You’re so cute I could just eat you up!” Asmodeus steps closer, his free hand reaches out to twirl a finger in their hair. Their face only grows redder to his glee and he leans into their face.

“And I just might! You look oh-so tempting tonight~. Are you my special present that you spoke of earlier? I’ll be glad if-“ He’s rudely cut off by something being shoved between their faces.

“T-this is,” the human mutters, choked. Asmodeus’s previous displeasure at having something interrupt him turns to a smidgen of joy. He gently takes the small, rectangular shaped box and steps back.

The box is perhaps the size of his hands placed next to each other, it’s shape resembling a jewelry box. The wrapping is a plain, light pink, and a gold bow is tied neatly around it. The human slips his forgotten Demonus flute out of his hand.

“I’ll hold onto this.”

Asmodeus offers them a smile. He’s truly grateful that the human got him something, knowing how much they struggle with money and their soft spot for Mammon.

“It must’ve been hard to save up for something,” he says with a light laugh. The human just smiles.

Nimble fingers carefully pull apart the bow, the untied gold ribbon falls to the ground, and the pink wrapping paper is peeled off to reveal a white box. The thin top is pulled off to reveal... not what was expected. Asmodeus blinks.

In the box lies an obviously homemade necklace. It’s simple, a thin metal chain looped through a thick, bulbous... charm? The charm is painted with a metallic, gold paint, accompanied by a painted on design of pink and red colors. A small, red heart lies in the middle, coated in a glittery paint that has it sparkling.

“Ah, you’re supposed to open it like this.” The human is suddenly beside him, their free hand clicking the top of the charm.

Oh, so it is a locket, Asmodeus realizes as the locket opens. He picks it up in one hand, using his thumb to gently open it more. His eyes widen at what’s inside.

The two doors have opened to reveal a picture. A picture of Asmodeus and the human. They’re not doing anything special, they’re not even dressed in anything exciting; they two are just posing silly. Asmo has his chin on their head and is using his pointer fingers to make them smile, while the human is trying to make a peace sign. Rather than them posing with a smile, they’re laughing.

He remembers the day they took this. It was shortly after the retreat to Diavolo’s castle, when Asmodeus and the human made their pact. Lucifer had forced asked Mammon to go shopping for dinner. Naturally, Mammon dragged the human along with him, but got swept up in winning a sweepstakes contest. The human was waiting for him when Asmo bumped into them and noticed a photobooth. ‘Let’s take a picture!’ he’d gasped.

Asmo had dragged them into the small, cramped compartment and 20 minutes whizzed by as he had the two posing and decorating the photos. With their last few Grimm they took a final set of photos. The first two were in the cute pose Asmo tried to have them do, but the human kept giggling at how silly their face had looked in a previous photo. The final picture was this one, the one in the locket he holds now.

“You kept this from so long ago?” he whispers, barely audible. From his peripheral vision he sees them nod.

“Taking all those pictures and laughing together is... a really nice memory for me. I don’t think we ever did anything together like that before. And this picture,” the human touches the locket, “is the best picture I have of your smile. Not that usual, pretty smile you do that makes your face look all handsome, but a real smile. A happy smile.”

His eyes suddenly feel hot. The human continues, “On the left door of the locket is that one really stupid picture of me you and Satan took of me sleeping after an exam.” Asmodeus has to snort at that.

“Oh, you think it’s funny? Satan drew on me with a permanent marker! I had detailed cat whiskers and a nose on my face for a week! I couldn’t wash it off!” They complain, but they’re laughing too.

“...Asmo?” The human looks up at him after he hasn’t said anything for a moment. “Do you like it?” They seemed worried.

Asmodeus bits the inside of his lower lip and suddenly throws his arms around them, pulling them into a tight hug. The human lets out a small, surprised squeak, but their arms wrap around him in return.

In all his years of living, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, Asmodeus had seen everything. Every gift, every proclamation of adoration, every blush across somebody’s skin. There’d been nothing that could surprise him anymore. But, today he finds himself wrong. In his hand he grips a small, poorly made locket that means more than any expensive clothing or make-up ever could to him. Something that isn’t adoration. Something that isn’t lust or heat. It’s something he hadn’t felt since the days he’d lost his heavenly name; Love.

Asmodeus feels something hot fall down his cheek.

“I love it.”

。

。

birthdays are super important to and for me so i’m really glad i could write something nice for asmo! obeysme’s recent asmo meta had me feeling so i tried to convey some of that lonely angst up in here yo

anyway, happy birthday to the best demon boy!!! i love you asmo!’

[akfanficlove]

“Navy blue” - #SeblaineWeek2020

Written for Seblaine Week 2020 – Dalton

The AU where Blaine returns to Dalton because let’s be honest, it’s what should’ve happened after the breakup. Plus, the steroids-thing never happened because how ridiculous was that?  Check out all of my other Seblaine-stories here at AO3 :)

 “Don’t you dare, Jeffrey!” Sebastian’s voice echoes through the halls. “Don’t you dare cry! I swear to God, man the fuck up and stop behaving like a little pussy if someone only as much as looks at you the wrong way.”

“Okay, okay, why don’t we all calm down a little?”, Nick says, stepping between a frowning Sebastian and Jeff whose lips are trembling. “Jeff, we know you try your best, just keep working, you’ll be fine. Okay? Maybe we should all take 5, especially you, Sebastian. You’ve been an ass all week.”

Sebastian huffs. All week? More like 10 days. Since the day his beautiful plan of luring a certain ex-Warbler back home, back to the group, back to his brothers, failed. His advances dismissed just like the navy blue blazer by hazel eyes that used to be light and sparkling but became more dull and sad during the past months. Sebastian hated it. He hated him. And most of all he hated how much he still cared.

 Sure, to Hunter he sold it as a solid plan to win the next show choir competition, Blaine Anderson having more talent in his pinky toe than all of Ohio’s artists combined but in reality? If he was completely honest, he missed him, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. He is no fool, Trent probably has a shrine build for, quote, “the Blaine Anderson” but he is not that desperate. He has plenty of fun without Blaine. Or, well, he used to. Back then when they bonded over awful coffee and navy blue with red piping, but enduring the bad coffee was okay because Blaine liked it, Blaine laughed about his usual rant and his eyes were warm and honest and lovely – wait, what? Lovely? Okay, he is not a blushing teenage girl, he cannot say things like that, or even think them, for that matter.

Besides that Blaine somehow was a blushing teenage girl or, well, boy, technically. That whole bashful schoolboy thing he didn’t know he was doing? Usually not Sebastian’s style. But on Blaine? Super hot. Sometimes when he was in bed late at night, he wondered how far down this blush went on, how it would feel if he traced it with his fingertips and that thought alone leaves him hot and panting as his own hand trails down his body and he imagines it’s Blaine’s. When it comes to that, he is every way the teenage boy his 17 years of life make him… Get yourself together, Smythe!

He made a mistake, he apologized and maybe Blaine had even forgiven him a little but things never went back to how they were before. Blaine never smiled at him like that again, he thought Blaine never really smiled anymore at anyone but that didn’t make it any less painful. Not that he could really make this assumption, they barely see each other anymore. Not since the mistake.

The only time he saw glimpses of the old Blaine, Blaine Warbler, king of Dalton, was exactly 10 days ago when they started singing “Dark Side” and Blaine buttoned up the blazer. Blaine who jumped on furniture. Blaine who sang his heart out standing in the center of the stage, or, well, their choir room. Blaine whose eyes seemed a little more vibrant, alive with each word and note. Blaine in navy blue with red piping – pretty similar to the Blaine who was leaning into the doorway frame right now, hands tucked in grey slacks, feet wrapped in black dress shoes, crossed one over the other at the ankle and what the hell?

Sebastian shakes his head and closes his eyes. He is going crazy, his fantasies sneaking into reality because, oh boy, how often did he imagine that tiny frame wrapped in navy blue, red and grey, bent over a couch, a dresser, a table in the library. When he opens his eyes again – it might’ve only been fractions of a second but it sure felt like minutes – Blaine is still there, all prim and proper, still dressed in Dalton’s school uniform. Their eyes meet and if Sebastian was into cheesiness he might’ve been tempted to say that it feels like time stands still. Then he sees the shy smile on Blaine’s lips and the hope and fear in Blaine’s eyes. It’s all it takes to shake him out of his state of mind.

 “If you’re trying to spy on us, Killer, you are doing an awful job blending in, even with that uniform.” Sebastian gets up, casually making his way over to where Blaine is now standing straight, every other boy’s attention on him. “Everyone in these holy halls remembers the Blaine Anderson, you can’t really hide –“, Sebastian stops right in front of Blaine, towering over him, so Blaine has to look up to him with those eyes, gosh, those pretty, pretty eyes, full of uncertainty but also full of, what, hope? Fear? Hope and fear? “I’d recognize that ass even in slacks with a blazer trying to cover it up”, he says with his voice lowered.

The room is silent for a while, Blaine staring into Sebastian’s eyes until he takes a deep breath and says the absolutely last thing Sebastian would’ve expected: “I’m not here to spy on you, Sebastian. I’m not part of the New Directions anymore. I can’t be because”, another deep breath, “I don’t go to school there anymore. I’m back at Dalton, for good, and I’d like to audition for the Warblers.” Sebastian can only blink, his brain unable to cope with the information. Back at Dalton. Blaine is back at Dalton. And he’d like to audition. What?

After several seconds (minutes?) of silence, Blaine follows with a simple “Please” to the group standing behind Sebastian. He is not only asking Sebastian as Captain, he is asking the group he abandoned in favor of chasing a love that, in the end, shattered him again. He is asking his brothers who once picked up the pieces of his broken self when the broken bones had already healed, to do it again. He is asking to come home to a place where he always belonged and, more importantly, where he always felt like belonging.

 “Oh my god, yes!” Trent is the first to break the silence and it’s like those four words break down all the walls, Blaine finds himself wrapped in friends and hugs and “Man, we missed you”s. Hunter smiles almost genuinely when he extends his hand, shaking Blaine’s and saying something, probably something like “No need to try out, Anderson, you’re in” but Sebastian doesn’t hear a word he says, still standing on the same spot, frozen.

And then Blaine turns around, looks up to him with a smile Sebastian recognizes immediately. It’s the same fond smile Blaine had when he told Sebastian about the secret Warbler traditions he didn’t know about yet. The smile when he finally agreed that, yes, okay, fine, The Flash is hotter than Superman, chill. The smile Blaine had when Sebastian complained about Lima Bean coffee again and drank it nonetheless. Something inside of Sebastian stirs, a warmth spreading from his stomach to his fingertips and toes, a wide smile spreading on his face he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. It’s his eyes, Sebastian thinks, his eyes so full of joy and relief and excitement that have Sebastian surging forward, hugging the boy tight. He stills sees the pain hidden behind wide smiles and relaxation, feels the way his body is still tense in some places but he also feels Blaine’s hands resting on his back, rumpling the navy blue fabric and he never wants to let go. Has the sudden urge to hold this beautiful boy, hide him from the world so no one could ever hurt him again, safe and sound in their own little world. It’s cheesy and he almost wants to vomit when he thinks it, but it’s true anyway. He slowly pulls back, reluctant to let go and maybe he feels Blaine hesitate, too.

“Blaine Warbler, our lost sheep, has returned home, guys! Welcome back to the team, B…”, he says and, wait, what’s with the nickname, but then Blaine blushes and averts his eyes and what exactly was he just thinking about?

“Thank you, guys... Damn, I’m glad I’m back, I missed this.” Then, Blaine is talking, something about Grease and superheroes, about filling out papers and explaining to his parents, about moving into the dorms soon and starting school at Dalton again in a few weeks after break. All the time standing so close to Sebastian that he can feel his body heat, smell his cologne and something like coffee and raspberries, all the time with Sebastian’s hand on his lower back, feeling the press of his fingers against the navy blue blazer, his plain white dress shirt, his tan skin underneath. And somehow, it grounds him. Both of them.

[currentfandomkick]

Bio! Dad Strange part 4

Shorter but a paris update for her life and a little on gotham with Jason as Robin while Tim is a hero Stalker.

Marinette is 7 when she changes schools, ordered into the Dupont school chain by her teachers since she was getting ‘difficult’ and contradicting their ciriculum. When they challeneged her on this, she went to the school board with Rolland beside her of all people.

The board agreed on one thing, Marinette’s contradictions were not only factually correct, but were done to prevent the outdated ciriculum from hurting her classmates. Instead of punishing her, she got to skip a gade and was given to Dupont as a ‘highly reccomended gifted student’.

Her first day she met Max, who also skipped a grade. The pair bond in five seconds over a new programming focused on learning emotional intelligence. Uncle Riddler was showing her it, and Max got his hands on a various ai bases. This led to then teaming up and designing the one and only Markov together, if only in schematics.

A week in and the two notice that some kids are being followed around by a guy with a bat. They report it. Again and again, but no one can find him.

One day he catches the pair on their way to Max’s—they wanted to work on their ai together, ok? The guy tries to hit Max, saying something about them being lucky metas that needed to suffer.

Marinette’s gotham training kicked in. She caught the bat, ripped it away from him and hit him in the chest with it, while yelling at max to run.

At the end of the incident, videotaped by a bystander, the Dupont Stalker was arrested.

Marinette was given another name by the police, ‘fille de batte’ or bat girl. Her having family in gotham only made the nickname more popular.

This put her on Kim and Alix’s radar. Kim wanted a challenge for fighting and competitions, and this tiny kid did that—to an adult! New friend and rival!

Alix was went from shock to joy as Marientte does art. She does art. Art friend to rant to found!

Nino ran into Marinette not long after Kim and Alix attached themselves to her and Max. Nino became their judge for Kim challenges. Including Mari pinning Kim to the mat, or deciding who did a circus move better (Mari won acrobatics).

Chloe doesnt go to dupont until next year, and sabrina is in another class, mildly concerned for Marinette.

In this au, again, Dupont is considered a ‘i would not be shocked if there were metas there’ school for gifted kids in any way.

Marinette is sent there for her insane science obsession at the time, but is also put in their arts program with Alix to develop as an artist with her medium, fabrics and fashion.

And if marinette redesigns hero outfits as “monsiuer ross, scribbles have more style, let alone fashion sense” alot, well. Kids get obsessed a lot and the Justice League is a common one, as are known villians. Her everyday outfits having different hero schemes—oddly enough some forensic scientist she’s obsessed with from some american city ended up in her mix—well. She’s a kid and showing signs a few types of anxiety.

Possible social and OCD and a developing case of perfectionism common to the arts program. The school has her see a therapist and know she isnt telling them everything beyong mild concern for her gotham family, and confusion over people just ‘not getting things’ as she is terribly smart and good at finding patterns and how do people not see it?

By the end of the year Marinette is in a strong friend group who’s parents and hers have decided to have joint custody during the school year.

She was now (forced) to learn vietnamese from Kim’s Grandparents, italian from Rolland (her nonno that has a Thing for tradition and somehow married Gina and raised Tom mostly on his own while running the bakery to boot), english from Father/Strange, Mandarin from her Maman and she started Arabic to talk with Nino’s aunt who kept saying marinette was her future in-law and point out that nino and her are friends, not dating ma’am.

However, Nino endured most of this with her-not the italian or Mandarin, but the others. Kim couldnt get Arabic but mandarin was a breeze for him. Alix cannot get vietnamese or arabic but Mandarin is her jam after french. Max just speaks french and english, he understands the others he just cant get the sounds right, ok?

When Marinette goes back to Gotham that summer, she ends up dealing with Hero Stalker Tim (jason is robin now) while looking for Red Hoodie who No oNE is telling her what happened and she’s worried, ok?

Tim feeds her obbsession with fixing problems. He sometimes sends her building layouts of places Catwoman stole from. And then the jewlry reappears thanks to a nervous Marinette coached by Rose and Ghoul while Frost handles her post-fix it freak out. Tim also may or may not get helped by her alot during Batman Stalking Time as she teaches his butt how to sneak and complains he’s worse than penguin.

Tim hates that, works on it, and still has nonidea who she is. He does admit to figuring out who batman may be, but needs more evidence so...

Marinette hits him becuase “thats dangerous!” And tries to lecture him in identites.

Batman’s radiowave was used for said lecture.

“And it puts their families in danger you, uh, hero stalker! And stuff so no more identity investigations!”

“They have the same builds, and did signsture moves from—“ the signal cutout.

He and Jason are more careful... ish. They change channels and monitor the old one.

Sometimes Batman catches Marinette and Tim talking about coldcases and she has asked three times if he heard anything about Jason’s street kid identity. Jason is feeling guilty about this as she’s his Pixie Pop. This lets Bruce know that the probably-clark’s-kid would keep Jason away from GCPD and CPS.

When a convo leads to Batman finding out Tim and Marinette have considered asking the police for help with a case of medicine that needed to be recalled as it was beign used to mule drugs contaminated the batches and hurt patients, but turned it down after she saw some taking bribes from Fish, Batman lets Gordon know and an investigation is launched.

While Bats is away, Jason visits marinette as Robin and tries to get her to bats for more information and a lecture on heroing without adult supervision. Maybe.

Only she’s currently stealing from a sleeping selina at another HQ. A Selina who has stopped trying to stop marinette and let riddler turn her house into one of his ‘traps’ to stop Marinette’s ‘return theiving’.

Jason gets stuck in a trap. Marinette is gone by then, scared Robin will tell Superman about her and he’ll hurt her family or something.

Catwoman is annoyed at Marinette’s sucess. She goes to stop the girl after leaving him tied up for Batman with a message: leave her new kitten-to-be alone.

Follow up talk post-Caught Marinette reverse theiving.

“Blame the Council’s decrees. She’s their little princess, and my new neice,” Catwoman watched Batman carefully.

Confused Batman in interrogator mode. “You mean the Court of Owls, arent they disbanded?”

“Bats, the council is gotham’s underground. Apparently Two-Face made the contracts as penance for scaring the Princess during a breakout. Unless you want an organized attack by the council, steer clear of her.”

Batman conencts the dots and curses himself. The girl he was looking for last summer is the Princess of Gotham’s underground. It will be hell finding her. And Superman/Clark will lose it when he’s told.

He lets the JL know about it, saying ‘possibly kyptonian clone, female child. Gotham’s underground is calling her their Princess. Connor and Kidflash tailed her last summer during the arkham breakout while Robin was with the Titans. Be alert for a small asian girl.’

That was how Marinette ended up on the JL watch list and how Superman had another existential crisis.

Dick freaks out with the Titans over this. Becuase kyltonian raised by villians is terrifying. Jason forwarded the message and adds on “she’s a good kid and wants to help. Somehow keeps zsasz and joker from killing people, so its not good to take her away or issolate her from the villians if you find her. From what i remember, she is terrified of her family beign put in danger. The others wont listen to me. If you can, pass this along to the other sidekicks and your allies—none of them trust me enough to listen. I cant talk to her as a civilian like i used to either for obvious reasons. And she’s terrified of me-Robin. Maybe you can get through to her, or someone else can. Just talk to her first, she’s more reasonsble than she looks”

Dick doesnt read the add on until much later and regrets it.

He met marinette once. She was a very excited kid babbling about aerodynamics in acrobatics and asking about that. Not hero things, not power things, or justice league but That.

He tried to be nice but he was having a horrible mission, saw the girl floating as she rambled and tried to grab her.

She freaked out and bolted, sort of. He got slammed into a building, or would have had she not caught him, rambled in french while trying to apologize (he was a but stunned from the throw, and rebooting as villian-kyptonian was... nice?) and put him on the roof, hit his communicator and said one thing.

“I think i broke your robin? All are robins like bird bones or something?”

He regained a functioning brain as that. That was something he could respond to.

“I am human thank you!”

That seemed to be enough for her as he moved to get up. She waved bye and bolted, something about Rose being mad at her for being late...

“Titans. I think we might have been wrong about the kid...”

Later with Young Justice the info was passed on.

Jason asked if anyone read his attachment and was met with silence. He groaned and told them “so another team she’s going to avoid... great.”

Marinette added the titans to her list of ‘people to aviod—tetch and Jerimah were the worst. Luthor and Cadmus were under them. Then the entire Justice League (they would tell batman or superman. Snitches.), followed by GCPD, CPS, the Bat Family and now Titans. She wonders if she needs to add anyone else, and hates that she cant talk to heroes. They could help with controlling her powers instead of suppressing them but she cant trust them not to give her to superman like batman did with Rose to Poison Ivy and she’s pretty sure Superboy too.

Next time, times marinette accidently put together identities and curses Hero Stalker Tim for her now knowing.

[voldemorthatesnose96]

Colors In Silence

Chapter 3

Chapter 2 here

Chapter 1 here

Disclaimer : just wanting to remind you all that English is not my mother language. Sure, I’ve been learning it my whole life but when it comes to grammar, I admit that I’m very much lacking. So if you find any grammatical errors, I’m more than happy to know. You can always knock on my dms <3

I can’t stop looking at my phone. It has been 3 days since I saw Robbe and there’s no text from him whatsoever. We exchanged numbers after that lunch and, let me tell you that it was one of the best moments of my life. The food was great, our conversation was amazing and I finally learnt about Robbe’s life; he’s an only child, divorced parents but both still respect each other very well and sometimes they even go on vacations together, been deaf since he was only 6, doesn’t want to go to college because it’s too tiresome and later his Dad open the flower shop for Robbe to feel at peace and make his own money, met his girlfriend named Gia in the supermarket when he was helping her to reach the top shelf and they’ve been together for over 2 years now (I gulped loudly when he ‘told’ me this. 2 years is a fucking long time!!!).

All these memories, I can’t help but miss him right now. I need to see him but what if he’s with her? What if he’s on vacation with her, like Hugo and Violet?

Screw Gia. Text him NOW!

You win this time, brain.

Apparently my longing is far more superior than my guilt. Feels like my fingers are already know what I’m supposed to type :

Robbe, how’re you? It’s been 3 days since we saw each other and... well, if you’re free, can we meet again soon?

And without another pause, I send it. Now the most infuriating part is starting; waiting anxiously.

Hang on.

I’m not being too creepy or demanding with that text, right? What if he’s gonna hate me because of it? What if he doesn’t want to see me again? What if...

Before my brain is making up another scary scenario, my phone beeps. I immediately open it and almost scream when Robbe replies :

Hey, sorry for not texting you. I just thought maybe you’ve been busy with your project and stuff; don’t wanna disturb, y’know. I’m good but yesterday Gia was being a little difficult, we even had a row :/ but ofc we can meet but maybe the day after tomorrow? My parents are going to take me to watch a play out of town tonight and we’ll be going home tomorrow. Wdyt? :)

Can’t contain my excitement, I quickly reply :

No problem! Any day is fine! But if you don’t mind me asking, what’s going on with you and Gia? Are you okay?

I’m not asking on how she’s doing because I don’t give a damn and even if I know her personally, I still don’t want to give a damn. Maybe I’m a bit mean but after reading what Robbe said about them lowkey being not okay and even arguing, my heart is swelling with joy.

His reply comes 5 minutes later :

It’s okay. So, I forgot that yesterday was our anniversary because the shop has been so busy, I even had to ask my Mom’s friends to help me sort that out. At 10 pm, when I just wanted to close the shop—being DEAD-ASS tired, there she was; stomping and giving me a death glare. She was half-screaming “I WAS WAITING FOR 3 HOURS, ROBBE! DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASING IT IS FOR A GIRL LIKE ME, IN A FANCY RESTAURANT ALL ALONE AND CRYING IN SECRET?! YOU DIDN’T EVEN READ MY TEXT! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU???” but the funniest part is she didn’t even let me explain and said “know what? Screw you! I hate you! Leave me alone! Don’t even bother to say sorry!” instead. So I just stood in front of my shop, with people staring at us and a second later, Gia walked away from there, crying *smh* but there you have it. My oh-so-touching love story. Feel free to cry or laugh.... or both -_-

I’m sorry, Robbe, but I do laugh after reading your text. Whoa, I can’t comprehend why a girl go feral when her boyfriend forgets their anniversary. To be fair, Yoona never remembered our anniversary, nor did I; though I still remember how we met. We met at the school cafetaria when she asked me to swap her pasta with my mango pudding and because she gave me such a radiant smile, I couldn’t say no. Therefore, after lunch was almost over, I approached and tried to talk to her; the rest is history. Oh by the way, we’ve dated officially after 3 times going out together. A year later, Jonah happened and we were going downhill fast.

But I don’t need to talk about her any longer. She’s happy with him now and I’m already falling in love with someone else—a very special person if I might add.

I’m sorry that happened to you but I can understand how scary a girl can be hahaha. Maybe going out of town with your parents tonight can lift up your mood :)

Robbe replies :

Tbh, I’d rather spend the night with you. You can cheer me up like no other, honestly.

My breath legit stops for a minute because of that text. Did he actually.... OH MY GOD! He’d rather spend the night with ME? ME?!?!

Lord, if you’re really there, I need your help not to send a risky text to him, showing him that I want that too. No, I need that.

Just say what you wanna say, Sander. If he can be blunt, you also do that.

I really do hate how my brain works sometimes but today, I do what it told me to. Twice. So I type :

The feeling’s mutual, Robbe. *sigh* if only we could see each other right now, that’d be great. Don’t you think?

He replies :

I do think so but I can’t, yet. So I’m looking forward to our next meeting. Where do you wanna go?

To be honest, I don’t even know. If I say that I want to go to the art gallery, I’m scared that it’ll bore him, if I say that we better watch the new movie at the cinema then it’ll be too mundane. I’ve never been this stressful about going somewhere when Yoona and I were still together.

I don’t know. Any ideas?

He replies :

You decide this time, not me :) I’ll wait until tomorrow. Okay?

I smile while typing :

No problem. Challenge accepted

He replies :

Well, gotta go. Need to pack for tonight. But you have to impress me with your choice or I’m never going out with you again. Bye for now, Sander. P.S : I’ll text you tomorrow, don’t worry. Ciao!

“Have fun, Robbe.” I say softly to my screen, pretending that he can hear it from here.

It feels really good to finally be able to look forward to something. To see Robbe again. Even though we can’t meet today or tomorrow just yet, at least he said that he would text me again and that thought alone makes me happy and content.

Because I’m feeling delirious, I run to the art room and immediately start to sketch one thing that comes into my mind while thinking of Robbe—a tulip. Even though I’m not an expert or as good as Robbe but because I’m an artist who’s often drawing or sketching some flowers, I do read books about them. To be frank, I only remember the meaning of the popular ones like sunflower, peony, rose, orchid and not the ones like what Robbe gave me the other day; larkspur and all that and I don’t understand why it happens.

Most people declares their love for someone using roses, especially the red one. But I’m different. I always like tulips among all flowers. The way their colours can lit up the whole field, very vibrant and pleasing; not too dramatic but not too subtle either. That’s exactly how I felt when I saw Robbe’s smile for the first time. It warms my heart and also sends chills down my spine. Maybe it was love at first sight.

But before my thoughts can go any further, Dad’s voice greets me.

“Son?”

“It’s me, Dad.” I reply without looking at him, hand still sketching.

I hear his feet approach and stop beside me, his eyes are examining my art.

“Why a single tulip?”

Of course I can’t tell him the truth, so instead, I say, “I just wanted to.”

He becomes silent for a while before continuing, “something happened to you while I was gone?”

My hand stops instantly, my body goes rigid. Is there any indication or a slightest reaction from me that tells him why I’m doing this thing? Oh God, no.

“Son?”

I shake my head, “nothing happened.”

“You can’t lie to me, Sander,” he answers, sighing. “I know how you feel by just looking at your arts. You can always tell me what’s wrong.”

That’s it.

That’s the last straw.

I had enough!

”STOP ASSUMING SHITS ABOUT ME!” I retort. “All those years you carved me into something, into someone just like you! I know that I never complained but you NEVER asked me what I want or what I need! Since Mum died, you never acted like a proper parent for me but a teacher. Just a mere teacher. To be honest, Dad, I always feel like an orphan. You don’t even know when I’m sick, whom I hang out with, where I’m going except the Art School and so many other things. But NOW you suddenly came here and even had the audacity to tell you what’s wrong with me? Okay, I’ll tell you what’s wrong, I’m falling in love with a boy. A BOY—and yes I’m aware that I’d been dating a girl before but this time is different. To make matter worse for you, Dad, I’m a Pansexual and I fully realised that when I was 11,” I stop to take a breath. Dad’s face still looking stoic but also sad, somehow. I can’t take this anymore. I need to leave. “Know what? I don’t give a shit whether you’re gonna be disgusted with me or not because of that. I’m done! SCHLUSS!”

And with that, I walk out from there without looking back and close the door loudly behind me.

[alj4890]

New Year's Eve 

A Choices Fan Fiction of The Royal Romance, Red Carpet Diaries, and Perfect Match.

A/N For my bff @krsnlove and for all her encouragement over the past year. Don’t know what I would do without the gifs and laughter. Here’s the pairs she loves, meeting up for a special New Year’s Eve.

Song: What Are You Doing New Year's Eve

@lxaah11​​ @alleksa16​​ @penguininapinktuxedo​​ @blackcoffee85​​ @stopforamoment​​ @hopefulmoonobject​​  @krsnlove​​   @annekebbphotography​​  @gibbles82​​ @cora-nova​​ @bella-ca​​ @hopelessromantic1352​​. @sunflowergirl05​​ @desiree-0816​​ @greywitchyshots​​ @lilyofchoices​ @moodyvalentinestories​​ @emceesynonymroll​ @dr-nancy-house​ @aworldoffandoms​ @ab1901​ @pixieferry​ @flyawayboo​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​.

Masterlist

Part 1 The Invitation 

Cordonia, The Royal Palace...

"New York?" Maxwell breathed the words. "We are spending New Year's Eve in New York?!"

Olivia's lips curved in disgust. "Another masquerade ball. Can anyone think of something less original for the usual crowd of nobles?"

Liam flipped the invitation over. "It might be enjoyable. Hakim and Joelle have friends and connections all over the world. They will likely attend."

"More snobs." Drake muttered. "Happy New Year to me."

"Joelle knows a lot of people involved with the fine arts." Amanda pointed out to him.

"So either rich snobs or cultural snobs? Great." He grumbled.

"You are all missing a huge point here." Maxwell announced. "We are going to enter the new year kissing someone in New York! This is a game changer. I can feel it."

"Game changer?" Amanda asked. "What do you mean?"

"We," Maxwell lowered his tone to sound more mysterious. "Are going to kiss the one."

"The one?" Olivia snorted. "We're all going to kiss the same person? I think I'll pass."

"No!" His blue eyes narrowed at the smirk she shared with Drake. "We each will find the one right for ourselves!" He held the gilded invitation closer to the light. "Can't you guys feel it?"

Drake leaned back in his chair. "The only thing I feel is a long flight ahead of us to a crowded city that will be even more packed on that night."

"It says our hotel rooms have been reserved." Amanda added. "The ball is being held in the same hotel, so at least we won't have to try and get somewhere."

Olivia groaned while standing up. "Guess we need to go pick a gown."

Amanda sighed in resignation. "I think I might find a black gown. Reflect the color of my mood as I spend yet another New Year's not sharing a kiss with anyone special."

"You can moan and groan all you want, but you'll see. Everything is going to change for us." Maxwell predicted.

_________________

"Please." Nadia drew the word out in a slight whine. "Kai is going to be stuck at work. Please go with me so I'll know someone there."

Damien ran a hand over his heavily stubbled chin. "Nadia, I hate these type of--" he glanced at her as she gave him the sad puppy eyes. "Nice try. Can't we just stay in?"

"I've been invited to a party by a duke and duchess. A duke and duchess! Two people who are patrons of the arts! I have to go. This is a huge opportunity and honor for me." She folded her arms and lifted one eyebrow. "I had no idea you were so timid about being around rich and cultured people. If you feel you can't keep up with them intelligently..."

His eyes cut to her while a slight smirk formed. "Well I'll be damned. You honestly think I will fall for that technique?"

She huffed and got up. "Fine. I thought my best friend would be willingly to go with me and keep me from breaking down and calling Steve. But I guess I will just spend it here, in my apartment, thinking of ways to get my ex back. Probably drunk dial him after drinking a bottle of champagne by myself. Alone. In the--"

"I'll go!" He shouted. "Just stop the guilt. You're too good at it."

"Yay!" She hugged him tight. "Be sure and bring a mask with your tux."

"I take back all the times I said Kai was right for calling you a precious cinnamon roll." Damien muttered. "She has no clue how evil you truly are."

________________

Hollywood, California...

"This came for you." Holly dropped the gold envelope on Thomas's desk.

He set aside the screenplay he was reading and reached for it. "Thanks. Would you bring--" he paused when he saw who the invitation was from. "Damn."

"What is it?" Holly craned her neck to read the invitation. "Oooh, New Year's Eve in New York. Want me to book your flight?"

He groaned. "Yes. There is no way Joelle will let me out of this. Not after I missed the previous party."

"Who are you going to take along as your plus one?" She asked.

"No one." Thomas firmly replied. "I have neither the time nor the inclination for romance."

"You never do." Holly muttered. She pulled up some possible flights.

"I'll leave on the twenty-ninth." Thomas decided. "It will give me time to prepare myself for whatever Joelle has in store for her unsuspecting guests."

Holly nodded. "Sounds like--" she pulled her phone out when it vibrated multiple times. "We are coming with you. The duke and duchess invited Matt, Ryan, amd Jessica along too. Addison, Seth, and I have been added as plus ones." She smiled at his groan. "Sure you don't want a plus one too?"

"Positive." He replied. "I can escape easier alone."

________________

Shanghai, China...

"I won't make it until after New Year's. Mr Lee not only negotiated the entire deal, he then somehow managed to make me agree into taking his daughter to Hakim's party." Rashad explained to his business partner.

William chuckled. "I'm so happy right now that I have the flu. He probably would have talked me into escorting another daughter."

"I've never met her but I can predict that other than seeing some of my friends that this will be one miserable New Year's Eve. And to answer the question you're about to ask, I will not try and receive a kiss." He shuddered. "If she is anything like her father, I will have to run and hide at 11:59."

_______________

December 29th, The Four Seasons, New York...

Liam stared out of his penthouse's window. The lights of New York were beginning to become brighter as night fell. His thoughts were centered on Maxwell's prediction. He hoped it came true for his friends. He knew it couldn't for himself.

The last six months had been some of the hardest he had ever faced. His father's death from a massive heart attack had been followed by his brother's decision to abdicate the throne. Liam had become king before he had a chance to comprehend all the changes.

He was grateful for Olivia discovering a loophole in his ascension. He didn't have to settle for an arranged marriage. He was able to accept the crown with an engagement. He and Amanda pretended for a few weeks before ending the sham. All was done with little trouble.

But now...he couldn't simply meet a woman, ask her out, have romance of any sort. He had to be cautious and choose the one that would be the best queen. That's all there was to it. No matter how much he wished differently. This was his life.

______________

Downstairs in one of the bars of The Four Seasons, New York...

"I can't believe you managed to swing us getting hired as holiday help for the third year in a row." Daniel teased.

Riley laughed as she picked her tray up with the requested drinks. "Third time is the charm. We get to help out with some kind of pretty big party on New Year's Eve. Rob promised us all bonuses that will make us weep with joy for working that night."

"I've never been so excited to be single before." Daniel replied. "Hello trip to the Bahamas."

Riley laughed while taking the drinks to the different tables.

________________

Rockefeller Center...

"Beautiful." Amanda breathed.

"I'm freezing." Maxwell muttered, pulling his coat closed.

"Please." Olivia rolled her eyes. "It's barely brisk."

"It's a tree. You decorate like a hundred of these every year." Drake complained. "Why did we have to come out in the cold to see this?"

"You didn't." Amanda reminded him. "I told all of you to go on to dinner and I would meet you there. I was not about to come to New York during the holidays and miss this."

Maxwell checked his phone. "Liam is on his way to The Palm Tribeca. We should head on over."

"Wait! We need a picture of us here." She looked around and spotted a man off by himself, looking at the tree.

"Pardon me?" Amanda gently touched his arm.

He glared down at her. "What do you want me to sign?"

She blinked in surprise. "I was going to ask if you would take a picture--"

He snatched her phone out of her hand. He held it up and took a selfie with her. "There. Now if you will excuse me."

Amanda stared at him in shock. "I'm afraid you misunderstand. I wondered if you would mind taking a picture of me and my friends in front of the tree."

The man's cheeks flushed. She wasn't sure if it was cold, embarrassment, or irritation. Possibly all three.

He followed her over to the group and took the photo. "Here." He muttered, handing her phone back to her.

She looked at it and beamed. "It's perfect. You managed to frame us with--"

"Amanda! Hurry up!" Drake yelled out. "We will leave without you!"

"Coming!" She smiled once more at the man. "Thank you again and Happy New Year."

His frown eased. "Same to you." Thomas watched as she ran toward the man that was waving impatiently.

_______________

The Palm Tribeca...

"I know this is just so I won't back out of the ball," Damien took a bite of his steak, "but you have reverted back to precious cinnamon roll status."

Nadia grinned at him. "I never doubted I could." She looked up when another group entered. Her eyes locked on what had to be the most extraordinary set of blue eyes she had ever seen.

Damien looked over at what had caught her attention. "I'm starting to think that whole drunk dialing Steve thing was an empty threat."

"Huh?" Nadia noticed his dimples form right before he winked at her.

"Should I go over there and tell him you like him?" Damien teased.

"What? No!" She dropped her eyes and picked up her wine glass. "I was merely admiring, artistically mind you, the color of his eyes."

"They're blue." He taunted.

"They are not simply blue! They are..." She looked over at the man's table and quickly looked away when he caught her staring. "They are multiple shades of blue to create a color rarely seen."

Damien glanced over at him. "No, they're a basic blue."

"You're hopeless." She mumbled. "I suppose the work Michelangelo did on The Sistine Chapel's ceiling was basic redecorating."

"Well," Damien gestured with his wine glass. "You're not wrong."

"You--" Nadia narrowed her eyes at him. "You are trying to get a rise out of me."

"And succeeding." He teased. He motioned toward the other man. "Go talk to him."

"What? Just walk over there, interrupt his time with those people? He could be dating one of them! Or married! Have three beautiful children with those gorgeous eyes and dimples." Nadia sighed while slumping in her chair. "I am destined to be a tortured artist."

"You make more money off one painting than most do in a year." Damien rolled his eyes. "Nowhere near tortured status."

"Tortured in love!" She snapped then covered her mouth when conversations paused around them.

Damien chuckled. "I think you're tortured right now. Should I ask if there is any paper and pencils you can borrow? Maybe some crayons they keep on hand for children?"

Nadia covered her steadily growing red face. "That's it. No more special dinners for you. Ever."

"I doubt that. You love the cinnamon sugar doughnut holes here too much to not drag me along." Damien eased off the teasing. "Nadia, you know you're cute as can be. He keeps looking over here, just walk by and say hi."

She shook her head. "I can't. But I will have those doughnuts. Possibly three orders of them."

Damien reached over and squeezed her hand. "Whatever you need."

________________

In another corner of The Palm Tribeca....

"What are you going to order?" Addison asked.

Thomas diverted his steady gaze from the woman who's picture he took. "Er, my usual."

Ryan leaned over to see what he kept looking at. "That doesn't look like your usual."

Addison turned around in her chair to look at what they were talking about. "Not another red head. Wasn't Marianne enough to steer you away from fiery tempered people?"

"Not her, I was looking at--" he stopped right before he revealed what held his attention.

Holly practically climbed in Ryan's lap to be able to see. "Is it the brunette?"

"Forget her!" Addison softly squealed. "It's him! Oh my-- how do I look?" She asked Matt.

"Beautiful, but who is the man you suddenly want to impress?" Matt asked, not even attempting to hide his jealousy.

"It's the new King of Cordonia. You know! Liam." She sighed on his name. "Ugh. Pictures rarely do him justice. AAAHHHH!" She covered her mouth. "Do you think he's here for the same party?!"

Thomas nodded. "Hakim and Joelle are close to the Royal family. I--"

"I'm going to meet him!" She squealed.

Matt met her eyes and waited.

"You know I love you." She hugged him. "I'm just fangirling."

"Why don't my fangirls act like that?" Seth asked.

"Because you have to have fangirls first." Holly remarked.

"Good point." Seth winked at Jessica. "Iowa, when we get back home, remind me to add squealing fangirls to my list of goals."

She laughed and took his hand. "It can be your New Year's resolution."

"You're brilliant." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I knew I loved you for more than your looks."

"Liam's highly intelligent." Addison added. "He isn't just make you want to weep handsome."

"What kind of handsome am I?" Ryan asked.

"The usual kind." Holly told him. "I've yet to tear up over looking at you."

"Not even choke you up handsome?" He countered.

"There was that one time I watched a movie you were in and choked on popcorn." She kissed his cheek. "Does that count?"

"Definitely. I can live with being choke you up handsome." He wrapped his arm around her.

Matt tugged on Addison. "Stop staring and pretend you remember who I am."

She looked up at him and smiled. "I gave you my heart." She glanced again at Liam. "A few seconds doesn't change that."

"Guys we are missing the main point." Jessica interrupted. "Hunt has found someone he not only likes but has kept him from saying how ridiculous our conversation is."

They all turned their attention on Thomas. When he noticed how quiet it was he stopped looking at the woman sitting beside Liam.

"What?" He asked. "I'm ordering the lobster."

"Holy--" Ryan smacked his back in camaraderie. "It finally happened."

"What are you talking about?" Thomas felt a trickle of unease settle over him.

"You finally found someone who renders you speechless." Ryan told him.

"And deaf." Holly added.

"That's preposterous." He waved to a waiter and ordered an old fashioned. "I've done nothing of the--" he looked up when she rose from her chair and went towards the back.

"The word you're looking for is sort." Jessica teased.

"Nope, it's love." Seth corrected.

_______________

Towards the back of The Palm Tribeca...

Rashad tried to keep from staring at the young woman sitting across from him. The moment he had met Hana, he had been tongue tied and in a highly grateful frame of mind.

"Do you come to New York often, your grace?" She asked.

"Rashad, please." He corrected again. "And yes, I do."

"Is it still as exciting each time you visit?" She asked. "This is my first time and I am still in awe of it."

He smiled at her. "I guess since I usually come for business purposes that I haven't had a chance to really enjoy it."

His smile brought her own out, nearly blinding him with her beauty.

"Rashad!" Amanda greeted. "We thought we saw you." She smiled warmly at him and then Hana. "Forgive me for interrupting. But we were wondering if you wished to join us." Her eyes fell on their half eaten plates. "But since you are settled, I should leave you to it."

Rashad stood and introduced her to Hana. "She will be at the ball with me."

Amanda's eyes lit with interest. "That's wonderful. I look forward to talking more to you then, Lady Hana." She patted Rashad's shoulder. "Enjoy your evening."

"We will." He said with another smile at Hana.

_____________

"Well? Was your mission successful?" Olivia asked.

"Her name is Hana Lee. Rashad has completed a business deal with her father and she is now his date for the ball." Amanda explained.

"Forced to take her or happy to?" Maxwell asked.

"I'm not certain on the forced part but he definitely looked happy." Amanda replied with a grin.

"I told you!" Maxwell exclaimed. "Big things are happening here."

"For Rashad maybe," Drake argued. "The rest of us, not so much."

Maxwell looked over at woman he had winked at earlier. She didn't seem to be on a date with that man. Or was she? "It's going to happen." He told them. "Just you wait."

_______________

Outside The Four Seasons...

“I think I might go for a walk.” Olivia told them. “I will see you all in the morning.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Amanda asked.

“No. Go ahead and get some rest. I’ll be fine.” She assured.

A couple of blocks from the hotel, her arm was grabbed.

“What took you so long?” She asked.

“Maxwell had to reassure me that I would find the one this New Year’s.” Drake muttered. He wrapped his arm around her waist. “He doesn’t realize that I already did that quite some time ago.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “This sneaking around in the dark is getting old.”

Drake looked at her. “I thought you wanted to wait to announce our relationship once we were certain of our feelings.”

“I still feel that way.” She told him. Her red lips firmed in determination. “That’s why I am willing to be your date for the party.”

He stopped them both. “You are?”

HIs deep voice combined with that heated look in her eyes made her lips curve into a smile. “I am.”

He pulled her close for a kiss. “So am I.”

_______________

The Four Seasons, at a dark bar...

“You should have come along with us.” Amanda said, scrolling through her pictures with Liam.

“I had to finish reviewing that trade agreement.” He explained. His smile formed at the picture of his friends in front of the tree. “So you not only saw it but talked the others into it.”

She laughed and nodded. “They didn’t even realize they were talked into it.”

He moved to the next picture. “You didn’t tell me you met Thomas Hunt.” 

Her smile fell. “What? I have never met him.” She looked down at the selfie that the man she---”Oh no! No wonder he asked me if I wanted an autograph when I approached him.” She dropped her head on the table. “He must have thought I was an idiot.”

Liam chuckled. “I doubt that. After being in the public eye, he probably enjoyed the anonymity.”

Amanda shook her head. “I can’t believe the opportunity to meet him happened and I wasn’t even aware of it.” She stood up and waved him back down. “Enjoy your drink. I’m going to go bury my head under my pillows and relive all my mistakes in that moment.” She wished him a good night and left.

A new waitress approached his table and smiled. “Can I get you anything? Liz had to leave and I will be handling her tables.”

Liam shook his head. “Thank you though.”

She tilted her head and studied him. “I don't mean to pry, but are you okay?”

He looked up at her and paused. “I--I am. I have nothing to complain about.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to be sad.” She told him.

“Well, Ms.--”

“Riley.” She said with a warm smile.

He tried to gather his thoughts. “I suppose the new year approaching has brought me down.”

She glanced at Daniel and motioned for him to keep watch on her tables before sitting down across from Liam. “In what way?”

He rolled his glass between his hands. “The usual I suppose. Fear of making the wrong decisions. Wishing you could be reckless for a moment.” He looked up at her. “Wish you didn’t feel so alone.”

Her brow furrowed and she reached over and placed her hand on his. “Everyone feels that from time to time. And right now, you aren’t alone.” She gently squeezed his hand. “I’m here.”

His blue eyes seemed to burn with intensity as he met her steady gaze. “Yes, you are.”