#so i thought perhaps if i make a machine tell me what it thinks comes next

[morganaspendragonss]

you only see the light shine in dark times

5.01 has apparently given me inspiration again we love to see it! enjoy! ao3 | 1k | 5.01 coda, angst and hurt/comfort

He’s grown used to it by now, to Carlos rushing off in the middle of lunch dates and coming home in the middle of the night. He’s grown used to the thousand-yard stares and the constant presence of that case looming over them. He’s grown used to sleeping alone.

But it still hurts. It still aches something deep within TK when he spends yet another night with only Lou Two for company. He could invite people over, the crew, his dad, but he doesn’t want them to know that this is what his life – his marriage – has become. They wouldn’t understand, and he thinks perhaps his dad would understand a little too well, which is an uncomfortable thought.

Not that his marriage is going to end up like his parents’. TK won’t let it. And he is proud of Carlos; deeply, wholly, overwhelmingly so. Seeing him on the news tonight, standing at the chief’s right hand, the youngest Ranger in the line-up by far, had sent a pulse of love and pride directly to TK’s heart, where it still sits, beating strongly away. He loves Carlos for his dedication to his work, and he wouldn’t have him any other way.

But he would have him at home.

The loft isn’t a big place, smaller even than his New York apartment, but right now it feels cavernous, yawning around him. He can almost hear the echo of his feet on the concrete as he sets Lou back in his tank and clears up for the night. The remaining peppers go in the fridge, alongside the leftovers of a dinner he’d made last night in the foolish hope that they could share a full meal together without worrying about call-outs or cases. Instead, TK had been left with too much chicken pasta and Carlos had eaten vending machine energy bars and peanuts.

TK doesn’t fully trust that he won’t do the same tonight, but there’s nothing he can do about it now, except leave the light by the window on. He imagines it’s a beacon, a sole light in the dark, and he imagines that Carlos can see it from his office all the way across town. 

Come home, he thinks, wishes, prays. Come home to me.

Even after he gets in bed, he always tries to stay up for a while, waiting to hear the door rolling along the tracks, Carlos shuffling about, the click of the lamp being turned off. It’s a rare occasion, but it’s happened once or twice, and TK likes to feign sleep until Carlos is finally settled next to him. Then, he’ll pretend to stir, just a little, and he’ll roll over to pull him close.

Tonight, as with most nights, he doesn’t make it, though he’s not sure what time it is when he finally falls asleep. All he knows is that it’s late and Carlos still hasn’t come home.

*

While nights are an ever rarer privilege, TK can usually count on at least a few minutes with his husband in the mornings. Which is why he panics this morning, when he wakes up not to Carlos in bed with him, but to coldness on the other side of the bed. It’s happened before when he’s overslept after a long or late shift, but yesterday’s was neither, and a quick glance at his phone tells him it’s not even seven yet. If Carlos hasn’t come home… But he has to have come home, because who will TK call now that Gabriel is gone? 

His phone is in his hand anyway before he’s managed to disentangle himself from the bedsheets, but it’s proved unnecessary a second later. The bedroom door slides open and Carlos appears on the other side, smiling despite the exhaustion lying heavy across his features. 

“Hey, I thought I heard you,” he says, coming to sit on the bed next to TK. He puts a hand on TK’s knee, his thumb rubbing gently across the skin. “You look upset, what’s going on?”

TK waits before answering. It’s a difficult question to answer these days; he can’t let Carlos know what’s really wrong because that… Well, that’s an argument he doesn’t want to have just yet. 

“Nothing,” he decides. “Just, weird dreams, you know. What time did you get in last night?”

Carlos’s expression shutters and he pulls his hand back, ostensibly to look at his watch. “Uhh, no idea. I stopped for something to eat on the way, so.”

“Good.”

The silence that falls between them is tense, awkward in a way it so rarely is between them. TK doesn’t know how to fix this, doesn’t know when it broke in the first place. It was gradual, cracks forming with every missed dinner and late night. Sometimes it feels like the only thing connecting them is that light by the window, left on as a sign that there is someone to come home to. 

Carlos sucks in a deep breath and TK turns to him, already knowing what he’ll say. 

“I was just about to head out, wanted to see you before I left. You should go back to sleep.” He pats TK’s knee again and makes to stand, but TK snatches his hand before he can fully pull away. 

“I’m awake now,” he tries, pouring as much love as he can into the words. “Maybe I can drive you to work, we can pick up some breakfast on the way? I’ll pick you up when you finish.”

Carlos smiles, but it’s small and regretful. “I already ate, and I don’t want to bother you on your day off.”

“It’s not–”

“Besides, I might stay late again,” Carlos interrupts. “I’m not sure, but I have to keep working on this, TK. I can’t– I couldn’t forgive myself if I stopped.”

TK nods. “I understand.”

And he does. He does. Still. His heart sinks as he lets go of Carlos, allowing him to stand up and leave.

“I’ll leave a light on for you,” he calls out as Carlos reaches the door. “I love you.”

Carlos turns back once, smiles. “Love you.”

Then he’s gone, and TK is alone again.

[avauntus]

So I've been stuck...

...with my fiction writing, for a while. In a fit of desperation, I loaded up one of those "AI writing assistants" and thunked a solid section of the chapter that has been giving me fits for (*checks calendar* Good lord...) three years into it to see if the suggestions gave me any hope.

It's a mixed bag, but the reason I am sharing with you on this dark and blustery night is...even the A.I. cannot stop itself from shipping Hwi and SeonHo. Their gravity is absolute.

Seriously. All I gave it for context was (relative to the story) -- Hwi dreads talking to SeonHo but misses their friendship, SeonHo feels guilty because he (believes he) caused Hwi's sister's death, and SeonHo is irritated at BangWon, who is Hwi's boss.

Then I asked the A.I. to help me write a fight. Two paragraphs in, I get... THIS: Hwi lusting after SeonHo.

...I keep laughing, getting over it, going back to the "suggestion" and I start laughing again.

[aromantic-pantyanarchy]

It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) pt. 1

paring: leehan x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan, college au word count: 6k summary: hooking up with a stranger at a party is fun when said stranger is a tall, attractive philosophy major whose name you don’t learn until weeks later. warnings: explicit sex scenes, oral (female and male receiving), a lil butt action but nothing too crazy

ao3 link can be found HERE.

“You’re a new face,” remarked the rich, husky voice belonging to the stranger who had just approached you. In a house party that was relatively packed, you thought you were blending in by sticking to the wall and enjoying your solo cup full of unlabeled liquor. And yet, here was the approaching figure of a man so tall you had to crane your neck to face him, knowing nothing about you and yet still managing to observe how out of place you seemed.

“That obvious, is it?”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing about you, per se. It’s just, these things are usually pretty tight-knit; the same people come every time. So when someone’s new, you notice,” he tells you, his slow, calm way of talking making you feel relieved and deeply curious at the same time. “Do you go to school here?” 

You nod your head in confirmation, though it feels foreign to do so when parts of you still feel more like a visitor than a student. “I just transferred here.”

He smiles hospitably at this, gesturing his arms out towards the room of people who surround you. “Welcome to our vibrant community. Please enjoy your stay. Refreshments are in the back and the ice machine is down the hall.”

You giggle genuinely at him and the sort of clumsy, awkward way his words seem to land on you. He’s the kind of person you were expecting to meet when you transferred from your rural state school to this smaller liberal arts college. There’s something almost dorky and strange about him, from the way he dresses in an oversized cardigan and big round glasses to the way he holds eye contact with you for what you deem longer than normal. And yet, his self-assuredness is crystal clear to you. It’s at this moment that you acknowledge to yourself how attractive you find him.

“Did you come here with someone?” he asks you, his posture changing so that he’s leaning into you just slightly.

“Yeah. My roommate is here somewhere—” you gesture aimlessly around you, “—probably getting tongued down in someone’s bathroom.”

At this point, you had been fighting off the inclination to assume that the man in front of you was chatting you up for any reason outside of sincere curiosity. But his intentions are made crystal clear when he replies, “Yeah? Care to follow suit?”

You laugh both out of amusement and shock at his forwardness, and even he seems taken aback by his own candor as he smiles in a sheepish, apologetic sort of way. Still, the way that his piercing dark eyes never seem to cease their burning into you, there’s no doubt in your mind that he meant every implication embedded in that response.

“You know, you never told me your name,” you point out, not sure why you are prolonging what feels like the inevitable moment tonight when you’ll find yourself tangled in bed with the handsome man in front of you. Perhaps you’d just like to talk to him for a little bit longer, enjoy the gratification of his attention. Or maybe it’s just fun to tease him and watch the way his eyes crinkle in bashful embarrassment.

You’re pleased when he seems no less interested in you even as you divert from his advances. In fact, he perks up at your observation. “That I did not. Call me pretentious, but I like to think that learning my name is a privilege.”

You show your disinterest in this notion with a scoff, something the stranger seems to take in stride. “Is a man’s name not all that he has in this world, from birth to death?” he asserts with a prideful smirk.

“Philosophical. That your major?”

“How’d you know?”

You’re starting to feel a little scared with just how much you’re beginning to love the sound of your overlapping laughter. When it dies down, you bask in the brief moments of silence where neither of you knows what to say next and instead just stare at each other’s faces in an almost innocent, child-like way. It’s so different from what you’re both feeling inside, anticipation and lust and desire swirling in a mix that makes your bodies feel charged.

“So since you’re not telling me your name, should I tell you mine?”

“Only if you feel I’m worthy of it,” he replies. The game that he’s playing confounds you but you see no harm in playing into it, something tantalizing and freeing about not being bound to the expectations of each other’s names.

“That, my friend,” you reply, “is yet to be decided.” You raise your hand to push against his shoulder, surprised at how sturdy the skin under his cardigan feels. He ricochets dramatically against the force of your hand, and when his body returns to yours, it’s closer than before. He rests his hand on the wall just above your head, the way he’s angled making him appear even taller than he did before.

“You know, I was exploring this house earlier, and there’s a room in the back with a comfortable-looking king-sized bed,” he says, words that would sound fuckboyish and crude if anyone else said them, but come out dorky and amusing when he does, especially when his next statement is, “And the entire time I was in there, all I could think was, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to pillow fight with?”

You smile, the expression mirrored on the stranger’s handsome face as he watches you react to his off-putting way of flirting. You decide to help him out by being more direct. “Are you asking me to pillow fight with you, stranger?” you ask, voice tilted in your best attempt at sounding seductive.

“Only if you’d be willing, stranger.”

When your roomate convinced you to go out with her tonight, you were intrigued by the notion of getting to know this new campus community, plus the always-tempting chance to get a few drinks in your system. You weren’t thinking that you would be in this position, about to hook up with a guy who won’t even tell you his name. 

You’ve been feigning confidence up until this point, an easy enough task when the man in front of you is good-looking and talkative. But now, as you prepare to follow him with the pretty certain chance of having sex, you have to finish off the remnants of your drink first, allowing the heat of liquid courage to wash over you like a warm blanket.

“Lead the way,” you tell him, taking the hand that he offers you before being led through the crowd of partygoers.

He takes you into a bedroom that’s on the ground floor, allowing you to settle in in front of him as he takes heed to lock the door. The bass from the loud music outside vibrates against the enclosed walls of the room. You’re grateful that it’s not completely silent, otherwise this would feel more awkward. 

“See,” the stranger says, walking over to face you. “I wasn’t lying about the king-sized bed.”

With the way he’s standing over you, combined with the looming implications of what you’re about to do – or rather, what you’re about to let him do to you – you’re too anxious to laugh. Instead, you stare at him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Do you like to kiss when you hook up?” he asks you, straight-forward and to the point. You like that. You’ve never understood people who don’t like to kiss those they’re having sex with. Is the act of kissing somehow more intimate than letting someone inside you?

“Depends,” you reply, already moving to cradle the side of his face with your hand. “Are you a good kisser?”

He doesn’t answer verbally, moving instead to lean in so that your lips meet. Everything about this man feels like a paradox. Your interactions thus far have felt innocent, awkward even, and yet they still led to you following him into a stranger’s bedroom with the intention of having sex. And now, though his looks and the way he carries himself feel so clumsy, the way he kisses you is intense, all-consuming. 

He wastes no time trying to build up to something intense. Without pretense, his tongue is invading the wetness of your mouth, forcing your lips open as an audible whimper of surprise spills out. One of his hands comes up to lace itself into your hair, and in another act that surprises you, he pulls on it so that your faces come even closer. You’ve never found the taste of liquor on someone’s lips more addicting than you do now. 

You pull away to find a smirk on his lips, cockiness written all over his expression as he asks, “What do you think?”

It’s hard to conjure up any words when his hand is still in your hair, tipping your head back so that his eyes can comfortably rake over your face and particularly linger on your reddened lips. “I think I really, really want you to fuck me,” is what you manage, and even if you were the type to feel shameful at such remarks, it would be hard to when your words visibly light up his handsome expression until he’s kissing you again.

Your lips melt into his in a kiss so passionate it has you both walking backward in an eager effort to get each other onto the bed. You waste no time in pawing the clothes off of his slender body, satisfied as you hear his jeans then his cardigan hit the carpeted floor with a soft plop.

He does the same when it comes to your dress, a flowy, strapless piece that required you to go braless for it to work. Once it’s off and you’re both down to just underwear, you’re met with the feeling of his bare skin against your bare skin, your bare chest against his bare chest, and more relieving than anything else, the feeling of the bed frame meeting the back of your thighs as you finally reach the bed.

Pushing you up onto the edge of the bed, he lets his hands wander the expanse of your body, enjoying the feeling of your tits squeezed in the palms of his hands. You lean into his touch, moaning a little in his mouth as he never stops kissing you, even as he reaches down to breach the waistband of your underwear. 

You don’t realize how wet you are until his slender fingers push out to separate your folds, a task made difficult as your sticky arousal glues your lips together. But he manages it dextrously, wasting no time in finding your clit and drawing slow, teasing circles with the pads of his fingers.

His other hand, which had up until this point been palming your breast idly, now comes up to hold your face as he regretfully pulls his lips from yours. He studies your expressions with furrowed eyebrows, a teasing lilt in his voice as he asks, “Do you like it when I touch you here?” 

Just as soon as you part your lips to respond, his fingers dip lower until he’s sliding two of them into your fluttering hole. Your wetness provides no resistance, and now he’s coiling them deep inside of you. “Or here?”

You can’t think or respond when he’s pumping his long, slender fingers in and out of you, an act made more intense as he forces you to look at him with his hand on your jaw keeping your head in place. 

If you had to describe sex you’ve had in the past, vulnerable isn’t a word you’d use. 

And yet, it’s exactly how you feel as his eyes never leave your face, overseeing every expression you make from overwhelmed to whimpering to having your lips parted in a moan. 

A faint part of you wonders if you should feel more uncomfortable with how intimate this sex feels. 

And yet, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more pent up just with someone's fingers inside of you than right now, especially when he opens his mouth to praise you in his deep voice.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, his breezy tone of voice reminiscent of a lullaby. “I’m so glad I met you tonight. Can’t wait to fuck you.”

He fucks his fingers deeper inside of you as he says this, causing you to mewl as you throw your head back in his hands. “Don’t make me wait, then,” you challenge, gripping his arm to steady yourself as another moan threatens its way to your lips.

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” he wolfishly remarks. “Well, if you insist.”

With am amused smile on his face, he pulls his fingers out of you, raising them between your two faces so that you both can look on at the wetness which coats them. You’re not at all surprised when he brings them to his lips, only turned on as he sucks both fingers clean with a wet smack.

“Wanna know what you taste like?” he proposes, his expression and tone of voice far too innocent for what he’s just done. You don’t respond, only pull him into you for a kiss so lewd it makes your insides jump. You reach your hand between your bodies as you kiss him, attaching your fingers to the bulge protruding from his boxers. You enjoy the feel of his clothed cock, large and substantial in your hands, before he’s pulling away to sigh against your lips. 

Your hand leaves his body as he moves away from you. “Don’t go anywhere. Need to grab a condom.”

You watch him in amusement as he goes to hunch over his discarded jeans. In his absence, you relax on your stomach, facing him on the edge of the bed. “Where would I go, stranger?”

“I don’t know,” he intones, returning to you with a silver packet in between his fingers. “But If I could freeze you like this forever, so pretty and waiting for me to fuck you, I would.”

The stranger’s way with words has your body responding once more, a ripple of electricity traveling up your legs and even more so when he takes off his boxers in front of you. You’re not ashamed at whatever expression of suprise is surely showing up on your face at the sight. 

You’d likely use the word pretty to describe his dick, veins bulging out of it like little vines and a tip that matches the rosy color of his lips. You decide then that he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, though you suppose you should save that judgment for when he’s actually managed to fit inside of you.

Your thoughts are broken by his touch as he lifts your chin up with his hands, a smirk ever so prominent on his puffy lips. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

You both giggle at his cheekiness, a moment of humour that is promptly ended when the opening of the condom packet grabs your attention. You reach out to cease his movements with a hand on his wrist. He meets your gaze with a cute, confused look on his face. “Wanna taste you first, stranger” you assert with a blink.

“You’re so cute,” he remarks enjoyably, “But I won’t last if you do.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them extra hard as you say, “Just a peck?”

As you already suspected from the lack of conviction in his earlier refusal, he’s not at all stern as he moves to rub his thumb across your cheek. “Since you asked so nicely,” he replies permissively.

You barely have to lean forward off the bed for your mouth to reach his cock, tall and straight and hard in front of your face. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you press a kiss just underneath his tip, making eye contact as you pull away to watch as a heavy sigh leaves his lips. You don’t stop at just one peck, peppering them all along his shaft and enjoying the smoothness of his skin against your lips.

“I thought you said just a peck?” he reminds you when he notices what you’re doing, placing a hand on your hair but making no effort to push you away.

“Am I not pecking?” you ask, relishing in the groan he lets out when you wrap your puckered lips over his reddened tip. You’re just about to open your mouth fully before he finally shows some restraint, pulling you off of him with a tug of your hair.

“That’s enough,” he asserts, the mattress dipping from his weight as he hops onto the bed behind you. “If I’m not inside of you within the next 5 seconds, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Conscious of his presence behind you, you raise your body into an arch and feel pleased when he immediately grabs at your hips to pull you in closer. He ignores the impatient little wiggles of your ass that you do in attempt to get him to fuck you, prefering instead to spread your pussy open with his fingers and groan as he watches arousal spill out of you. “You’re so fucking wet,” he remarks dreamily, sliding a languid finger inside of you in a way that makes your arch deepen. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it, baby?”

His vocal tone has taken a shift so that he sounds less adoring and more sadistic, the observance of your arousal being just for him stated almost matter-a-factly. You don’t know why it turns you on even more than before, but it does, especially as he plays idly with pussy as if he forgets it belongs to a living, breathing you.

You’re fighting off whimpers as his fingers continue their exploration of your entrance. You hear him let out a long, drawn out “Fuck,” under his breath before he’s withdrawing from you entirely and asking, “Can I eat you out?”

Images of his plump, rosy lips flash through your mind like a movie sequence before you’re humming out affirmatively, excitement of what’s to come making your body tense as you feel him laying down on the bed, feel his breath against your mound as he becomes level with your pussy, feel his lips against your clit as he goes in to take all of you in his mouth.

The sounds that fill the room now are nothing but a lewd combination of your moans, his slurping, and the continued blaring of music coming from outside the walls. The way that he eats pussy is almost just as clumsy and unsure as he is, but he somehow manages to make you cry out as his tongue expertly flicks against your clit, or he licks into your entrance to taste the arousal there. 

You feel yourself becoming lightheaded and breathless as he licks you closer into orgasm. Already worked up from all the time he spent fingering you, what feels like the last straw is when he experimentally licks upward and brushes his tongue against the tight skin of your asshole. Noticing how it makes you moan and reach back to pull at his long hair, he keeps going, wetting your ass with his tongue. 

Alternating between this and your cunt, it’s only a matter of time when you find yourself mewling and tensing as your orgasm takes over your body. Your thighs are shaking and your hands are pulling so hard at his hair that you’re afraid you’ll rip it, but nonetheless he holds you up with two large hands against your ass and groans as you come all over his face. 

When he finally pulls away from you, your body collapses against the bed, all the marks of a good orgasm hitting you at once – ringing ears, tensed limbs, rising chest. You’re brought back to Earth by the feeling of faint, fleeting kisses being left on the expanse of your spine, the stranger’s body pressed against yours before he’s level with you and moving to pull your head to face his.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, sweet and innocent in yet another moment of tenderness that feels inappropriate for the setting you’re in. Nonetheless, you nod and relish in the feeling of his mouth against yours once more, acknowledging faintly to yourself that he just might be the best kisser you’ve ever been with.

He brings your body back to life by snaking his arms underneath you, grabbing at your boobs and almost making you feel ticklish as he gently caresses your stomach. Pulling away from your lips, he mutters the command of, “Turn around,” against your lips that you follow with zeal.

Flat on your back, you’re brought face to face with the man who has exceeded your expectations in almost every way compared to anyone else you’ve slept with so casually. Long locks of dark hair drape against the sides of face as he holds himself above you, making him look intense, but only briefly before he’s asking through an impish smile, “Are you intimidated by eye contact?”

He says it to you like it’s a challenge, like he hopes you’ll be shy so that he can guide you through it anyway. You shake your head stubbornly. “No,” you answer, “But I’m intimated by you.” It’s true. You’ve definitely never met a person like him, never had sex feel so intimate with a complete stranger. It scares you.

“Don’t be. I’m really a softie,” he assures, a childlike expression of excitement lighting up his handsome features. He presses a hand against your cheek in a gesture of affection, lips curling into a grin. “Only, my dick is as hard as a rock right now. Kinda wanna bury it inside of you.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You’re surprised when, in reply, he adjusts his body so that he’s lined up perfectly with your entrance, his latex covered tip pressing just slightly into you. “That’s a great question,” he quips, and without any further pretense, he slots himself inside of you.

You let out identical sounding sighs as his cock is engulfed by the sensitive, wet inside of your pussy. He presses his hips against you, making sure he’s as deep as he possibly can be before looking down at you for your approval. “Feels good?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes,” you’re whimpering in reply, head already thrown back as you get used to the feeling of his girth filling you. 

Hearing you express how good you feel is all the stranger needs to hear before he’s pulling out of you, methodically ensuring that just the tip is left inside before pushing back in. His vigor catches you by surprise, leaving you no time to adjust as he continues at a feverish pace. Unintelligible, broken-sounding cries spill out from your lips with each moment his hips meet yours.

“You have such pretty eyes,” he remarks as he watches you, a compliment you don’t think you’ve ever heard before while being fucked into the next dimesion. “And a pretty mouth, too,” he adds, his thumb breaching the wet insides of your lips before he’s leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is messy as you struggle to meet each other’s mouths, devolving into a mixture of tongue and spit and broken breath.

“Talk to me. Tell me how good I’m fucking you,” he groans against your mouth, sitting up on his knees to fuck you in an angle that’s deeper that before. With the pounding that he’s giving you, you’re just barely able to catch your breath, let alone form the words to respond to him.

“Can’t…scream your name if I don’t know it,” you manage to say in a teasing sort-of-way, your smirk widening into an open-mouthed cry as you’re sure he grazes your g-spot with a particualrly deep drive of his hips. 

He chuckles at your way of trying to get him to share his name, and whether he’s truly serious in wanting to withhold it from you or because he just wants to tease you, he says, “Come on my cock, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Fuck me harder, and I will,” you reply tauntingly, not because he’s not already, but because even through the haze of your approaching orgasm, you want to see how he’ll respond to your challenge.

He smiles at this request, though while maintaining his same pace. “But I don’t wanna break you, sweet girl,” he remarks, and if he weren’t, too, about to crash into his approaching climax, he’d surely make it a point to tease you for how you clench at the pet name. Instead, he opts to slot a hand between your legs and make work of your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. “Does this help?”

Just as you were sure this sex couldn’t get any better, the added stimulation to your clit has your entire body reeling with pleasure. “Oh god, yes. Don’t stop.”

With each approaching second, you can feel yourself about to fall apart, a condition only worsened when the stranger pulls you down by your hips, bringing him even deeper inside of you. You love the sound of his deep voice from above you, sounding almost far-away and dreamlike as he mumbles remarks like, “Keep making those pretty noises for me, baby,” that shoot straight to your core, only adding to your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re killing me baby,” is what he says as his own pleasure begins to reach it’s peak. You love the expressions he makes, the almost painful look on his face as he says, “Wish I could come inside this tight little pussy.”

Even with the knowledge that he put a condom on, you can’t help but react positively to the notion of being filled with his hot, sticky release. And without intending it, your walls close tightly around his cock in tandem with the loud moan that on its own revealed just how much you enjoyed that little tidbit of dirty talk. And without fail, the stranger is quick to pick up on it and tease you for it, though through his own gritted teeth and groans as he inches closer to release.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? If I filled you up with my cum? You wanna have my baby and you don’t even know my name?’

It’s the half-degrading, half-awe-inspired tone of voice he uses that throws you over the edge, your thighs shaking in anticipation of what you’re sure will be an earth-shattering orgasm. “I’m close,” you confess through baited breath.

“I know you are,” he acknowledges in reply, and without warning, your body convulses with the strength of your climax. “That’s it. Come on my dick.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything quite like the overwhelming pleasure that washes over you in a series of pulsating, neverending waves. The stranger fucks you through it without any alteration in speed, and it’s just as you’re about to squirm away in overstimulation that he finishes with one last, deep thrust inside of you. The sound of his groans are just as melodic and husky as his voice is, sending little afterschocks of arousal up your belly until finally, he pulls out of you with a grunt.

Looking up at the ceiling, you feel the mattress dip beside you as he collapses onto the bed. Usually, this would be the point where the post-nut clarity hits you and you’d begin to regret another series of bad decisions that led you to a stranger's bed. Instead, as you lock eyes with who might possibly be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, you only wonder what you did to deserve such good fortune to have met him tonight.

“That was fucking amazing, stranger,” he remarks, putting voice to your own exact thoughts as he rolls over so that he can stroke your cheek idly. You try to hold off the pestering inclination to blink so that you can take in the rosy-cheeked, delicately striking state his orgasm has left him in. 

You thought that after giving you what was surely the best pounding of your life that you’d be less inclined to view him as a total weirdo. Instead, there is something so innocent now about the way he looks at you, as he can’t even believe this happened. Wanting to tease him, you reply, “Good enough for me to learn your name?”

He considers your question with an impish chuckle, and though you’re not at all desperate to know his name, you’re still surprised when he replies, “Will you forgive me if I say something tells me I want to keep you hanging for just a little while longer?”

There is an air of mysteriousness to his words that you pick up on but have trouble interpreting. And while you itch to know what’s going on in that big brain of his, you decide not to question him any further, instead just appreciating the ease and contentment of this moment. 

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him candidly, leaning in so that the tip of your noses touch. “But I’m glad I met you tonight.”

You’re not embarrassed at all when you lean in to kiss him, because even though the sex is over, you just want to feel his lips against yours one last time before you go back to being two strangers who will likely never see each other after this. He reciprocates, seemingly ignorant to the idea of kissing someone chastely as he pulls you in and slips his tongue into your mouth.

Nevertheless, when you pull away, you know the moment is over when he says, “Walk of shame out the door together?”

You’re not sad, only content as you turn to him and answer. “Let’s.”

It’s a cozy Thursday morning on your campus as you step outside to meet with your friend, Jaehyun. When you had allowed him to borrow your computations textbook, you had no idea it would lead you to his apartment complex, where he swore he had left the book on accident.

“I promise you, I thought I brought it with me to class, but I must’ve left it in my room,” he explained sheepishly, patting his pockets as he searched for his apartment key. With his straight-cut bangs and habit of forgetfulness, Jaehyun was about the closest thing to a friend that you had since transferring. You went to the same high school together, congregating in the same social circles but ultimately going two separate ways after graduation. 

It wasn’t until your first day at this new school that you sat down for your morning class and discovered that Myeong Jaehyun went here, too. Since that moment of recognition on both of your ends, he’s been your only piece of relative familiarly in a place that still feels new to you.

“Here we are,” mumbled a disgruntled Jaehyun as he finally managed to unlock the door to his apartment. It was your first time seeing the place, and as far as student housing went, you were impressed. The space was populated with nice-enough-looking furniture and boyish decorations that you could tell belonged to Jaehyun and whoever his roommate was.

“I’m gonna go get your textbook from my room. You can wait out here,” said Jaehyun, turning to head into the hallway where the rooms were. You were just about to get comfortable, maybe sit on his couch and chill as he invariably spent ages looking for your textbook, until the noise of a door opening startled you into attention.

“Oh hey,” said Jaehyun casually to a familiar silhouette that appeared into the hallway. “Y/N, this is my roommate, Leehan.”

You fought the urge to laugh out loud as you were met with the image of the stranger who, just a few weeks ago, was drilling his cock into you in some of the most mind-blowing sex of your life. When he first came out and hadn’t noticed you yet, he simply looked curious, as if he was coming out of his room to see what was causing the noise. But now, he barely fights off a smirk as he, too, processes your presence. All of this goes unnoticed by an unsuspecting Jaehyun, who proceeds into his room to rummage for your textbook.

Left alone with the boy who you can now identify as Leehan, you look him up and down, taking in his casual appearance and hair that has only grown longer in the time since you last met. He leans against his doorframe, looking you over with a gaze just as intrusive before saying, “So. Y/N, huh?”

Both of you laugh out loud at the same time, the humor and awkwardness of the situation hitting you all at once. The smile on Leehan’s face forces his eyes into crescent shapes that you faintly acknowledge as endearing. 

“Leehan,” you state with a grin, returning the preceding instance of acknowledging each other’s names. “It suits you. Although, I’m not sure it’s special enough to justify you withholding it.”

He shrugs indifferently at that, looking not even a little embarrassed as he replies jokingly, “What can I say? I prefer an air of anonymity when conducting my one-night stands.”

“Is that what that was?” you quip back with a tilt of your head. You know exactly that that’s what it was, but playing coy about it is how you save yourself from the embarrassment of having to address the weird sexual-tension-mixed-with-awkwardness that lingers between the two of you.

He runs a hand through his hair, maintaining the smile on his face as he shrugs noncommittally and replies, “I don’t know, I was too drunk to remember. In fact, who are you again?”

You both giggle, the atmosphere and banter between the two of you surprisingly easy, even outside the context of being drunk at a house party. You can faintly hear the sounds of Jaehyun’s rummaging becoming louder a few doors away, letting you know he’s no closer to finding your textbook. To your own internal surprise, a tiny part of you is relieved to have the time to see where this interaction with Leehan will go.

“So, you’re friends with Myeong Jaehyun?” he asks, gesturing his head in the direction of his roommate’s door just a few feet away. You notice how he slips his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and straightens his posture, a move somehow making him look 10x taller.

“It’s a love/hate sort of thing. But yes, I’ve known him since high school.”

The corner of Leehan’s lips switch into a half-smile, something foreboding in his tone as he then says, “Then I guess I should expect to see you much more often, Y/N.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow, and through a confused grin, ask, “Why do you say that so ominously?”

Leehan doesn’t answer at first and instead just maintains his piercing gaze on your face. He’s so strange, but what’s even stranger is that you find yourself attracted to him. Attracted to him and his weirdly crooked smile and habit of staring at people for longer than normal. His shaggy brown hair and pouty lips that you can’t forget were once meshed with yours.

“No reason,” he finally answers, and before you can question such obviously purposeful ambiguity, it’s just then that Jaehyun comes out with your textbook.

“Found your book,” he says, cradling the thick textbook underneath his arm. Looking over at Leehan, whose open-mouthed expression obviously reveals he was in the middle of saying something, he pauses. “You good, Leehan?”

Leehan maintains a passive expression, though the hints of a smirk just barely bleed onto his lips as he gestures his head in your direction. “Yeah, just talking to Y/N.”

Jaehuun exchanges an inquisitive look between the two of you. “You guys know each other?”

Not sure how to answer that question, you look to Leehan for any non-verbal guidance. And funnily enough, he looks to you with the same sort of expecting look, and now you’re staring at each other for longer than normal, fighting back laughter as a confused Jaehyun looks on.

“You could say that,” Leehan replies, nodding his head affirmatively.

part 2 can be found HERE

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s

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[cuubism]

i went to physical therapy for my stupid broken arm so as is my legal obligation i HAD to make ship content about it. everything is ship content that's how it is

cw injury, referenced abusive relationships

--

Hob's had plenty of clients come to physical therapy who clearly don't want to be there. Plenty of others who are reasonably frustrated by the work and time involved in regaining functioning after an injury. But this is the first time he's just had someone be... quiet. Resigned.

Dream sits with his hand cradled to his chest, barely speaking, only answering when Hob asks a direct question. He's reluctant to give Hob his hand when Hob asks if he can look at it, like he thinks Hob's grip is a bear trap that will snap down and crush the bones like whatever had done so the first time. Hob still doesn't know what that was. All he knows is the bones have been realigned and healed over but the dexterity in his hand still isn't right. That was what Dream had said, in the first spark of passion Hob had heard from him. It's not right.

But he does eventually give his hand over. His bones are so fine and delicate, and each movement hesitant. Cautious. Hob tests the flexibility. The strength. Dream is right, it's not where it should be. He still doesn't know what happened.

"I won't make you tell me if you really don't want to," Hob says gently. "But it is important to know how it happened to make sure we rehab it the right way. Did you get it caught in something? I've seen guys come in with machine injuries like that."

Nothing about Dream suggests "person who works with heavy machinery." But who knows. Hob will try not to stereotype.

"No," Dream says quietly, looking down and away from his hand like he can't bear to see it. "I. I am an artist. My ex... he felt that I cared more about my art than about him. Perhaps I did. And he was... frustrated. I suppose."

Hob can put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. "Jesus," he breathes, and Dream flinches.

"I have an unfortunate ability to involve myself with such people," he says.

"No, it's not your fault," Hob says automatically.

Dream narrows his eyes. "You presume to know that?"

Hob raises his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I won't pry." He's not Dream's therapist. His job is to help him with his hand, not... whatever else is going on in his life.

He takes Dream's hand carefully between both of his own again. Presses down lightly on his knuckles. "So. Crushed. Like that?"

Dream nods. Hob still doesn't know all the details, but he's imagining a boot going down hard on the top of Dream's hand. The thought is sickening.

"Can you fix it?" Dream asks, like he doesn't dare to hope.

"Well, you already had it repaired surgically, yeah?" Hob says. This strikes him as a bit of good luck--hand fractures are not simple--but he doesn't want to undercut Dream's confidence even further by saying so. He's usually pretty good at reading his clients, and he's already sensing that Dream is holding onto his determination to be here at all by the barest thread. Best to build him up as much as possible. "So it's just a matter of strengthening the muscles again."

He's fairly confident he can get him back to a usual level of functioning with it. The question is whether he can return him to the specific level of dexterity he needs for his art. He doesn't say that. Not yet.

Finally, he gets the tiniest of smiles out of Dream. He's really lovely when he smiles.

(He's pretty when he doesn't smile, too. Hob would have to be blind not to notice it.)

"So," Hob says. "Let's look at the current range of motion, yeah?"

Dream tilts his head. "Did you not already do so?"

"For regular motion, yeah. But I want to see where it's impacting your drawing."

Dream draws his hand back, looking uncertain.

"Come on." Hob hands him a pen and paper. "Show me. I promise I know nothing about art. If it's not up to your usual standards, I'm not going to be able to tell."

Finally, Dream takes the pen, and starts sketching.

Hob watches, noting the way his hand trembles, his uneven grip on the pen. Notes how quickly he gets demoralized when it doesn't turn out the way he wants. Hob can make out what he's written and drawn, but it's clear from Dream's expression that it's far from how it's supposed to be.

"This is just a starting point," Hob reminds him. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of those sorts of reminders with Dream; he does not seem to find optimism easy.

Then again, if someone who supposedly loved him had hurt him like that, Hob would probably find optimism a bit difficult, too.

Finally, Dream drops the pen, clearly frustrated. "I have tried to paint at home, too. It has not turned out any better. You should throw those away." He gestures to the sketches. "They are terrible."

"Nah, I'm gonna keep them," Hob says, and puts them in his folder. "For comparison later." It could also partially be because he finds Dream's drawings of cats, imperfect as they are, charming. Sue him.

"As you insist," Dream says.

Hob gives him documentation on some other exercises he can do at home. Tries to think through what might make him feel better with his art. It feels, somehow, so important to make him feel better.

"At home, go easy on trying to use a pen, or paintbrush or whatever, it's hard on your hand," he finally says. "But you probably want to get back to your art, so-- okay, don't make fun of me if this is stupid."

Dream just raises an eyebrow, waiting.

Maybe Hob should try to learn more about art before he gives advice. Nevertheless, he forges on. "Holding a pen is tough, but if you wanted to like, finger paint or something? That would probably be fine. Might be good for flexibility, even."

"Finger paint," Dream repeats, enunciating each word.

"I told you not to make fun of me if it was stupid."

Dream smiles, just a small thing, like he finds Hob ridiculous but in a charming way. Good enough, Hob figures.

"Very well," Dream says at last. "I will take your advice."

Dream simply walking out had felt like a distinct possibility, so Hob will take this as a win.

"Hey," he says later, catching Dream for a moment as he's checking him out. "It's going to get better, yeah? Trust me. Don't worry too hard, just give it time."

He really shouldn't make promises like that. But he can't seem to help it, with Dream.

Dream considers, then says. "I do trust you."

Hob finds that it means a lot. Now he's just going to have to earn it.

[reareaotaku]

Good Morning

Summary: You tell Ford 'Good Morning' everyday, too scared to say anything to him even though you have a crush on him, but one day you say nothing- taking him by surprise Tw & Cw: Older Man/Young Woman, Slight Jealousy, Slight possession, Reader's in College, Stan being a dick [Though what's new] Linktree 4 the People of Palestine [If I made a sequel I would call it 'To Good at Goodbyes'] Word Ct: 2k+

Inspired by: An Unrequited Love and Good Morning Wishes [They ended it with Angst and I didn't like that]

You had never really had attractions towards older men that could be your grandfather, but Ford was different. He wasn't like other old men. He was active and full of life- He was like a young man in an old man's body and you found that attractive.

He was one of the only reasons you worked at the Mystery Shack, cause it sure wasn't for the shitty pay or Stan being a dick. Actually- He was the only reason you worked here. You sure weren't coming out of your way to see Stan. Just the thought alone made you shiver.

Though you instantly lit up when hearing a door in the back open- The one behind the vending machine [You didn't question it]. You straightened up and looked towards where you knew he was going to enter.

He had his head in one of his books, a journal perhaps? and you were quick to pipe a 'Good Morning, Mr. Pines'. He doesn't look up, but returns the gesture with a 'Good Morning, Y/n.'

You liked when Ford said your name. It made your body feel all hot and tingly, like something was twirling inside of you. It made you feel special- Even if it was nothing. It was just a name.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Stan coming in and you quickly took your eyes off his twin brother because if there was one thing you knew is that Stan would yell about you staring at Ford, which would successfully embarrass you.

For twins, they couldn't be more different. While Ford was handsome, active, charming, intelligent, respectful, etc, Stan was... well Stan. He had his own charm, sure, but nothing like Ford. Ford was perfect in your eyes.

---

You sat in your class, your mind going elsewhere when the professor was talking. You knew you should have been listening, but how could you when you knew a man like Ford. God, he was such an intelligent man. You bet he could have passed this class in just a few days. Maybe you should ask him for help in class? That could be a conversation starter... But what if he said no?

God, you wished you could just read his mind or say what he wanted to hear. Why couldn't you just be the same age? Why did you have to be over 40+ years younger than him? Your mother should of had you sooner- Or maybe your grandma? Doesn't matter, you just wanted his attention.

Speaking of attention, you wished you had been giving more of it to class, because you were startled when the professor called your name.

"Penny for your thoughts, Ms. L/n?"

You look up at him surprised, before realizing it was just you and him and everyone was gone. You shook your head, before rubbing the back of your neck, "I don't think my thoughts are worth that much."

"Well, something is occupying your mind."

"Just missing home, I guess."

"Well, try to focus more. You have so much potential and I'd hate for it to go to waste because of your attention span."

"Of course. Thank you, sir."

---

"Good morning, Mr. Pines."

Ford stops, looking towards you, "You know, Y/n, you can call me Ford. Mr. Pines makes me feel so old around you."

You blush, a stupid grin overtaking your face. "Of course, Mr. P- Ford.." You were so happy, because that was the most he had ever spoken to you. Maybe he did like you, too? No, he was probably just being friendly.

"Get that goofy-ass look off your face and get back to work," Stan yells throwing a newspaper, that you narrowly avoided.

A frown quickly overtake your face and you rolled your eyes, before responding to Stan. "You have such a way with words, Stan. It's a wonder you're not more popular with the ladies."

"That's what I've been saying for years," He replies, ignoring your sarcasm and it just causes you to roll your eyes and shake your head.

---

Watching your short interaction with his brother made Ford a little jealous. He told you that you can call him Ford, but you just call Stan by his name without any problem? Did you like Stan more than him? No, Ford shook his head. There was no way any woman would like Stan more than someone else, much less him. Besides, Ford felt a connection between the both of you, he just hopes it wasn't one sided.

---

You turned your head, smiling, expecting a customer, but it was Ford. Your customer-service smile quickly turned to a real smile. "Good afternoon, Ford."

Without missing a beat, he repeats the phase back to you, "Good after to you as well, Y/n."

You sighed, watching him leave, wishing he'd just start the conversation and finally take the initiative... Though, you doubted he felt anything for you- at least not in the same way you feel. Maybe it was just best to move on and date someone your age... Or- You looked over to Stan who was conning some poor tourist and shook your head. Yeah, someone your age to be realistic.

----

You sighed, fiddling with a pen. The Shack was empty, which wasn't common for all of Stan's scams, but you liked the quiet. Though, with your mind focused on the pen you didn't even notice that Ford passed by you- Multiple times.

While you didn't take notice of him, Ford did take notice of you and was a little confused when you didn't say anything to him. He was going to say something to you, but he didn't want to catch you in a bad mood, so he decided to let you have your day, even if he missed your little greetings.

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing?"

You looked over at Stan, confused on why he was being a dick. "What?"

"You're not doing anything! I'm not paying you to sit around."

"Uh, there's no one here. Besides, you don't pay me that much ingeneral- In fact, I think you're paying me below minimum wa-"

"You know what, let's just call it a night and all head out before we say something stupid," He laughs which just causes you to sigh and roll your eyes, before getting up and turning the closing sign.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow Stan... Unless you die in your sleep." You whisper the last part under your breath, hoping he didn't hear it, but he seemed to sense you were shit talking.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" You quickly shake your head after turning to him. "Nothing. Just a good night."

"Hmm.. Good night, Y/n. Don't get arrested."

"I'll try."

You left the store, heading to your car, thankful that the day was over. Now you had to head to class.

---

"What was that?"

Stan looks over to his brother, confused. "What?"

"You and Y/n. I didn't know you were close..."

"Close?" He laughs, before realizing Ford was not joking. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

"It's a good thing you don't know any better."

Stan lets out a huff, before taking a sip of his beer. "What's got your panties in a twist anyway?"

"She didn't say anything to me. She always says something to me."

"Maybe she didn't notice you."

"She noticed you."

"I'm a hard guy to miss- Unless you're my ex-wife," Stan laughs at his joke, not taking Ford seriously at all.

"Ugh. You're an idiot." Ford walks past his brother, going back to his room.

"Don't go fucking my workers, Ford!" Stan yells at him, but Ford chooses to ignore him.

---

You watched the clock, thrilled when it finally hit five and it was your chance to leave. You hadn't seen Ford all day, which had surprised you, but you were glad. You knew you wouldn't be able to keep yourself together if you were around him.

You go to reach for your bag, only for the strap to break and all your books to fall out. You curse under your breath going to reach for them, when you see someone beat you to it.

"How to Be Sort of Happy in Engineering School?"

You blush, taking the book from him. "Uh, it's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid. I didn't know you had a passion for engineering."

"Eh, my dad's an engineer and he wants me to follow in his footsteps."

He hums, grabbing your other books and putting them on the table. "Well, what would you want to do?"

"What... do I want to do? I don't know... No one has ever asked... But, if I had to choose, maybe be like you."

Ford feels his throat tighten and a blush overcome his face. It felt weird for you to say such a thing, especially since you were ignoring him the past. Speaking of which, Ford decides now was the perfect time to confront you.

"Are you okay?"

"What?" You looked at him confused where the question came from. It was totally out of left field.

"You've been acting... different. I feel like you've been avoiding me or something. Maybe it's just me."

"Uh, it's nothing- Just school is on my mind a lot so I guess I can be... uh airheaded?" You tilt your head, not feeling that you were expressing your thoughts right, even though he wasn't totally wrong. "It gets pretty stressful- School I mean- Not talking to you!" You awkwardly laugh and Ford just smiles, before nodding.

"Ahh, yes. Of course. My apologies."

"Don't sweat it, man."

---

Ford wasn't good with people, much less women, so he was unsure how to keep your friendship going and possibly go other ways... Besides, it still felt like you weren't truly being honest with him. Like you were purposefully ignoring him... He wondered why it bothered him so much. Like, what was the big deal, they were just words... But maybe he was used to your attention.

He sat at his table, trying to think of conversation starters, so he could talk to you again. That's when he remembered the conversation about college. It seemed that maybe you were struggling with college, especially since you didn't like your major. Maybe he should offer you assistance? Yes, that's what he would do...

But what if you took that as him mocking his intelligence? Should he be on the low about it? Like suggest helping you without being upfront?

Ford finally decides that he'll mention your school work and lead the conversation to see if you need help. He smiled at himself when he came up with the plan, deciding it was perfect with no holes.

---

A few days had passed since Ford decided that he would try and approach you to see if you needed help in school. He kept trying to start the conversation, but something always got in the way- Usually Stan. But today was the day.

He saw you about to leave when he called you back. You walk over to him, confused on what Ford needed.

"What's up, Ford?"

"Uh, you mentioned that school was stressful... Uh, you know if you need help, I'm free whenever you need me."

"Yeah? What do you know about engineering?"

He smirks, "Oh, please Y/n. I know everything."

"I believe you." You look to your car, before looking back at Ford, "If you're serious though, I would love your help. It would be great to have someone like you there. I just know it would be easier."

----

You feel strange with Ford looking over your shoulder. You were worried that you were doing something wrong. God, you'd be embarrassed if you fucked up infront of him.

"You know, you're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for. I thought you'd need my help more."

You blush, straightening up, looking down at your work. "Oh- Uh, thank you."

"Can I ask you a question, Y/n? It might be a little weird, but I don't remember what the answer is."

"Uh, sure. Go for it."

"How old are you again?"

You look over at Ford a little confused, "Uh... 20?"

"God, I forget how young you are," Ford says. "I always think you're older than you are. I forget there's such an age difference between us, because it doesn't feel like that.

"Is... that a bad thing?" You blushed, embarrassed about him pointing out that you were so much younger than him.

He looks at you, not missing a beat. "No... It doesn't bother me. Does..." He looks away, "Uh, it bother you?"

"Not at all."

"That's good to hear."

You sigh, closing your eyes and Ford decides to make a daring move.

"Y/n."

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to come with me on one of my... adventures?"

You looked at him, wide eyed. Was he inviting you to hang out with him? Alone? Without stupid college work? "Uh- Yeah, I would love too."

"That's great. I know with you it'll be a much better experience."

"Oh, wow, I can't believe you're inviting me to hang out with you doing your fun stuff. I've always wanted to do that stuff you know?"

"Well, I wish you would have said something, because I always love the company, especially yours."

[ohtobeleah]

Logan has been on my mind since Deadpool and Wolverine enough to where I'm finally getting through the rest of the X-men movies. And let me tell you that man needs a hug. For the Logan requests, Logan seems like one that would be told to keep his emotions to himself(being 200 yrs old and all), and not to cry. What if Reader is in the hospital injured where it is serious but they'll be fine, and Logan is just glad Reader is alive and wants to cry but wants to appear strong. Then reader invites him to lay down beside them in the bed and basically tells him it's ok to cry an comforts him as he let's go of his worries

SAME! Except my husband actually sat me down and forced me to watch them.... and Now it's turned into me begging to watch the next movie. 

When we look back at Logan's overextended life, we know he's been through a fuck tone of trauma, hurt, loss, and grief. I like to think that although he's incredibly capable of expressing his emotions--with all that turmoil and all that time spent growing up in toxic environments and situations, he's gotten pretty good at remaining neutral in situations others would usually crumble in. 

Perhaps you’re Logan's version of Charles Moira McTaggart? You aren't a mutant, you're simply a gifted agent who Logan takes a liking to. The feelings are mutual and everyone knows something is going on. Because no one gets under Logan's skin, not even Wade, like you do, it’s always very buddy-cop when the two of you are together. But the sex is a mirror imagine what that Honda Odessy scene (if you know what I mean) 

Logan just stands in the doorway of the hospital room, You're sleeping, or so he thinks. His heartbeat is running rampant in his chest because the sight of you in the bed with all those machines and wires makes his heart ache. The blame is resting heavily on his shoulders as he steps in. Slowly but surely, Logan makes his way to your side. Somewhere he never wants to leave. 

“Hi,” You groan as you open your eyes and notice Logan sitting quietly beside your bed in one of those really uncomfortable armchairs. “You look like shit.” 

“Looks who’s talkin?” Logan replied. It’s only when you turn your head do you see the tears streaming down his aged face. Years of torture, years of pain written in the lines on his beautiful face. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that right?” Logan admits as he lets out a sigh of relief he wasn’t aware he was holding in. “You almost died in my arms.”

“Not the worst way to go out,” You chuckle through the pain as you move over in the hospital bed. “Come here, you big softy.” 

“I–” Logan tries to commute what you’re saying, but his mind doesn’t register the kindness. “What?” 

“Come, lay down with me? I’m alright Logan,” You explain as he stands, carefully sitting down beside you only to lay right beside you. “Were you crying?” 

“Go fuck yourself,” Is what you’re met with as Logan wraps you in his arms. The gentle kiss he places against your temple tells you a different story altogether. “You scared me, that’s all.”

But you know just by the way Logan holds you so close, with every ounce of love he has in his body, that it’s much more than that. 

“I won’t tell anyone you know,” You mumble as you allow yourself to relax in the safety and full security of Logan’s warm embrace. “If you were?” You follow up. The pad of Logan’s thumb runs along your forearm, shaking softly as he tries to fight against the emotions running through his nervous system. “But for the record, you aren’t a robot Logan, emotions are valid, let them out.” 

And so Logan breaks, he allows the tears to stream down his face as he kisses you tenderly. Holding you close because he thought for a few hours there that he wouldn’t get to hold you again. 

“Ever scare me like that again and you and I are gonna have problems,” Logan growls, but you know what he means when a sob rips through his chest. So you reply with what he needs to hear at that moment. And you mean every word. 

“I love you too.”

[knavesflames]

Imagine assassin or hitman arle-

⭐️

Ohhhhh this has me brainrotting. I wasn’t sure how to write this originally, but then I just decided fuck it and let it come to me (lol come) as I wrote.

Word count: 844

Contents: this has power to be angst or fluff but currently it’s smut enjoy, gun fucking, arlecchino lowkey a freak

Nsft Utc!

Originally, her purpose was to assassinate you. Yet, she saw you, your face when she held the dagger to your throat, the lack of fear on your features and instead confusion written across you, did she falter. Arlecchino does not falter, it is not who she is. No, she is ruthless and violent and that is why she is so good at what she does. Somehow, in those days of following you, the minutes of hunting you and the seconds before her kill, she fell for you. She remembers how her grip on sharp metal slackened, how she found you utterly captivating. How you responded with a simple “are you flirting with me or killing me?” You were supposed to be a simple kill, one she would never think about again, you were nothing to her, you were supposed to be nothing to her. And even so, she ends up in your bed more than once. Every night, even. Always retreating to your door, watching you invite her in with her exhausted expression, mumbling a thank you when you give her fresh clothes and wash the bloody ones.

Not once has she admitted to you who set her up to it. You’ve always wondered why. You’ve spent many a night laying next to her wondering if it was someone close to you. If it was someone you wronged long ago yet held a grudge. Or, perhaps, if the entire thing was a ruse to get close to you. Arlecchino is more vulnerable than she lets on, you’ve realised. Especially how she seems to snuggle up to you at night, how she refuses to talk about herself, how she seemingly has nothing positive to say. How she shuts you down with a harsh bark when you try to get her to say something nice. You love her anyway, do you not? It isn’t a question. Of course you do.

A part of you is horrified that you’re in love with someone who so easily causes a bloodbath. A twisted part of you is enjoying the adrenaline, enjoying how she chose you. A very big part of you enjoys when she decides to fuck you, with a multitude of objects. Her fingers, her tongue, her straps (yes, she has multiple, and she’s very proud of her collection), and once or twice, the hilt of her dagger. And currently, her pistol.

You are scared more than you have been, but you can’t seem to find it in you to tell her to stop. You know she would, but the cold metal against your folds and the look of satisfaction on her face makes something in you snap, makes the coil in your stomach tighten more.

“How slutty of you, fucking my gun. You look good, a pretty little whore for me, aren’t you?” She muses, mostly to herself, knowing you’re too lost in whatever sensation you feel to concentrate on her words. Her lips are parted, and her eyebrows raise in her own pleasure as she watches the gun move in and out of you, watching as you clench around it, how your hips buck every so often. “And if I were to pull the trigger,” she hums. “Do you trust me to believe the magazine is empty?”

You do. You know if she was going to kill you, she would have done it a long time ago. She wouldn’t have killed the second assassin that came after you. She wouldn’t have supplied you with your own tiny dagger to protect yourself. You know the magazine is empty, that the killing machine is currently an empty metal shell.

“Good girl, knowing me so well, hm? Knowing I’d never hurt you.” She chuckles, her signature low laugh, smooth and velvety and hitting every part of you. Gazing into her red crosses with your own fucked our expression, you feel yourself approaching the edge, and you can’t help your laugh escaping at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Of the fact she’s—

You can’t finish your thought before your orgasm washes over you, your hand moving to clutch her leather clad arm (the woman has that damn leather jacket on constantly) as she towers over you, her silky locks (smelling of coconut, surprisingly) brushing over your face. By the time your mind clears, your rationality comes back to you, she’s pulling the gun out of you slowly, admiring the creamy ring that’s formed around the barrel. “So messy. Clean it.” She murmurs, pushing said barrel past your swollen lips, letting your tongue lap up any taste of yourself before she changes her mind. She firmly pulls it out of your mouth before you’re finished with a wet pop, a whine at the back of your throat at the loss. Though, it turns into a soft gasp when her own tongue licks a stripe up the metal, cleaning the rest of it, her eyes not once leaving you.

“Delicious,” she whispers with a smirk, “Thanks, doll. I have a hit I need to get to, I’ll be back later, yeah?”

[melzula]

North and South

part one

pairing: zuko x princess!reader

notes: i’m so excited to finally be at the last comic storyline of the series. i do admit there are a lot of noticeable changes from the comic, but i still hope you guys enjoy. also i did make a series playlist if you guys want to give it a listen, it’s included on the masterlist!

summary: while doing her best to rebuild the tribe, the Chief struggles to determine what is really best for her people. however, she hopes that the return of her friends will allow her to see things in a clearer view

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

After a long day of teaching, you find yourself locked away in your office looking over proposals for the Reconstruction Project. Your head aches from the hours you’ve spent assessing paperwork and writing notes of your own about Hakoda’s new proposal. Things seem to be going well for the most part, your tribe is growing stronger with every passing day, but there’s still much to be done.

It’s been three months since you last visited the Fire Nation and helped Zuko find the missing children, and since returning home all of your attention has been focused on the needs of your people. You’re doing all you can to be the leader your father would want you to be and your tribe needs you to be, but the reconstruction process has made this a much more difficult task.

A gentle knock on your office door breaks you from your thoughts and brings you back to the present, refocusing your attention on the papers sprawled out before you. “Come in.”

“Chief y/n,” Hakoda greets you cordially before gently shutting the door behind him. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, of course not, I was just reviewing the proposal you and Malina submitted.”

“And?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eye. You simply sigh, carefully rubbing your temple in thought before grabbing the papers from your desk and handing them back to him.

“I don’t think I can approve the construction of these plans,” you admit guiltily. “I know there’s an oil deposit here that could be beneficial to the growth of our tribe if used correctly, but can you assure me that will be the case once it’s built? Can you assure me it won’t have any negative impact on our wildlife or our people or our way of life? Can you assure me that it won’t cause tension between us and our sister tribe?”

“I… I can’t promise you any of that,” Hakoda admits with a sigh. “But isn’t taking chances part of making change? This oil could help build machines and make our way of life easier.”

“I’ve heard how some of the Notherners speak of us. I gave Maliq an earful the last time I caught him talking down to my men, and I don’t believe his intentions with this project consider the South’s best interests. Our people don’t deserve just fancy machinery and modern technology, they deserve dignity and respect. At this moment in time I’m not comfortable moving forward with the oil rigs. My answer is no.”

“I understand,” your advisor relents with a disappointed sigh. “I’ll inform Malina and Maliq of your response, and I’ll work hard to make sure we can show you that this project will be worthwhile.”

“Thank you, Hakoda. Now, onto less serious matters,” you note with a faint smile. “Based on the letter I received Katara and Sokka should be arriving tomorrow, and in two days I’ll be hosting a celebration in honor of their return. I can count on you to be there?”

“Of course, but… you won’t mention anything of Malina will you?” He asks hesitantly. “I should be the one to tell them.”

“I don’t like keeping secrets from friends, but I also know that this is a family matter, so you have my word,” you assure him. He thanks you and bids you goodnight before departing from your office, and once again you are all alone.

“What am I going to do?” You sigh, eyes straining as you try looking over the plans again. Change has been necessary to keep your tribe growing and your people strong, but you worry that perhaps there’s been too much change. The only thing that’s really stayed the same is the palace, but even now it feels out of place amongst all the modern buildings and structures. The Southern Water Tribe feels too Northern, and you worry your people are beginning to lose their identity.

Nothing makes sense anymore, but you hope that with the arrival of your friends will come a clearer view on the future ahead.

You can only hope for the best.

~~~

The South is bustling with activity as you usher in your students for the day’s lesson. Your class is reasonably small, made up of only about ten attendees and only two of them being originally from the South. Those two were the most resistant to your lessons, but you did your best to be as understanding of their hesitancy as possible. You too understood the trauma and fear that came with being forced to hide your bending once the war broke out in the South, and some people were still getting used to the fact that there was no longer any danger to run from.

“Good morning my little koala otters,” you greet cheerfully. “I hope you all are well rested and ready for today’s lesson.”

“Excuse me,” a voice calls, bringing your attention to the doorway, “do you have room for another student?”

You nearly collapse from the excitement that fills you at the sight of your two friends standing in the doorway with Master Pakku in tow ready to take over classes for you. You almost trip over your own feet as you rush towards the siblings and throw your arms around them in the tightest hug imaginable.

“Sokka, Katara! I’m so happy to see you guys,” you exclaim with a tearful smile before pulling away. “I can’t believe you’re back already.”

“It’s great to see you again, y/n,” Katara agrees, a content look on her face, “and it’s good to be home, even though it does look… different.”

“I know, it is a bit much,” you admit with an uncomfortable laugh, “but the people seem to like it, and your father thinks a modern look is just what our tribe needs.“

“Is our dad a great advisor or what?” Sokka asks Katara, a prideful smile on his face.

“He certainly has been a great help. Thanks to him and the construction crew from the North I’ve been able to focus on my bending school and more of the social affairs around the South. Having more time to connect with my people helps me be the best Chief I can and make sure I’m making the right choices for them.”

“Speaking of the construction crew,” Katara interrupts with a sour look on her face. “I caught them trying to attack little kids who were playing near a construction site.”

“It was just a misunderstanding, Katara,” Sokka reasons with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Besides, you kicked their butts anyway!”

“That’s terrible,” you express with a worried frown. “I’ll have to have a word with Malina about her crew; they won’t be welcomed here any longer if they keep this sort of behavior up. I won’t have outsiders tormenting my people.”

“This Malina… do you trust her?”

“Why do you ask?” You say, trying to feign obliviousness. You certainly don’t want to get in the middle of anything, but it’s hard having to lie to someone who’s been there for you through thick and thin.

“Well, we’re supposed to have dinner tonight with my dad, and her and her brother Maliq will be joining us. But I’m not really sure if I trust her,” Katara admits sullenly. “Something doesn’t feel right about them.”

“You just have to give her a chance. Anyone who can come up with cool designs like that can’t be all that bad,” her brother argues much to her annoyance.

“You only like her because she’s feeding you,” she grumbles indignantly.

“Look, I think you should speak to your father. He spends more time with her than I do, and he’ll be able to explain things much better than I probably could. The only thing I can tell you both is to keep your schedules open because tomorrow night I’ll be hosting a celebration in your honor!”

“What? You don’t have to do that!” Katara exclaims in surprise.

“Of course I do. You’re Southern heroes, you saved the world by helping the Avatar and you saved our tribe when you helped me defeat Koa,” you explain adamantly. “We’re having the party, and as Chief I demand your presence.”

“You’ve let the power go to your head, haven’t you?” Sokka accuses jokingly. “Don’t worry, y/n, we’ll be there.”

“Good,” you smile, pleased at getting your way. “We’re all going to have a wonderful time and everything is going to work itself out. These things just take time.”

“I guess you’re right,” Katara murmurs, but you can still detect the uncertainty in her features.

“Listen, why don’t you both come by tomorrow after my lessons are over? I can give you a grand tour of the new and improved Southern Water Tribe!” You suggest eagerly. “Your opinions matter too, and I want as much input as possible about how to improve our home for everyone.”

“That sounds nice,” she admits with a meek smile. “Maybe that’s what we need, a chance to settle into life back home.”

“Perfect! I’m excited to show you our procgress!”

While Katara appreciates your enthusiasm, she still doesn’t feel right about Malina or the changes made in the South. It doesn’t really feel like home anymore; it’s so different from how life once was. For your sake she’ll try to give it a chance, but as of now it seems it’ll take a lot more than her father’s reassurance to convince her that these changes are for the best.

But she hopes that maybe you’re right, maybe these things just take time, and maybe once time has passed it’ll feel like normal again.

She can only hope.

~~~

“After we finished rebuilding the outer tribes, we began our work on the royal plaza. It’s now become the main center for commerce, diplomacy, and unity. The local businesses that have opened here have been massively successful, and the square is constantly bustling with activity.”

Katara feels overwhelmed by the whirlwind of information you throw at her as you guide her and Sokka through the brand new royal village. You’re right about it always being busy- people rush by your trio to start their work for the day or bargain for the latest deals at the merchant stands. They look happy, content, and out of place. The people don’t match the towering buildings around them, and they surely don’t look like the same people she’d left behind a few years ago.

“And everyone is happy with the changes?” She asks curiously.

“Well, some were resistant to the change, so I tried to be as accommodating as possible. Those who didn’t want new homes were allowed to keep their original huts, and I didn’t force the outer tribes to merge with the royal village. I gave them the autonomy to govern their own affairs so long as it doesn’t interfere with the overall success of the tribe, but they’re still required to report to me at least once a month about their progress and request aid if needed.”

“So it’s kind of like the Earth Kingdom in a way?” Sokka points out indeterminately. “You‘ve established cities while still keeping the palace as the center point of the tribe.”

“I guess that’s true,” you note thoughtfully at his observation. “Father said I’d gain the knowledge needed to lead by traveling the world, so I’m using the knowledge I’ve gained for the benefit of my people.”

“I hate to burst your burble, Princess, but I don’t think everything’s as perfect as you say it is,” the boy says with a frown. Faltering, you slow yourself to a stop and turn to face the siblings. Their features are riddled with apprehension, and you’re not sure what to make of it.

“What do you mean, Sokka? Is there something you don’t like about the changes? Is there something I should be doing better?” You ask, fretful over the idea of not living up to the expectations placed upon you as leader.

“No, no, I think you’re doing a great job, honest. It’s just… well, some people aren’t happy about the Northerners being here.”

“Last night Malina was attacked at dinner, and we were forced to chase after these kids that stole Maliq’s briefcase,” Katara begins to explain, lowering her voice to ensure no one can overhear your conversation. “We followed them to the abandoned Fire Nation shipwreck and discovered a series of tunnels underneath.”

“There was an entire group of Southerners down there led by Gilak, a warrior who fought alongside our fathers against the Fire Nation,” Sokka continues, and you can only hang on to every word. You feel ashamed to know that this has been going on without your knowledge, and it’s almost as if you’ve failed in a sense. You’re Chief, it’s your job to know of things like this, and yet you’re having to find out about it through your friends. “They’re not happy about our sister tribe’s presence here in the South.”

“I understand some of the Northerners can be a bit blunt and unpleasant at times, but I didn’t think it was this bad,” you admit with a disappointed frown. “What did they tell you?”

“He said he understood that at first it was necessary for you to bring in people from the North to help restore bending to our tribe because it would make us stronger,” Sokka explains as he recalls the awkward encounter. “But now he thinks my dad is going overboard with all the people he’s brought in to help us rebuild.”

“He says we’re becoming a cheap imitation of the North,” Katara murmurs thoughtfully, and by the look on her face it seems as if she agrees with the sentiment.

“What else did Galik say?”

“They want to eradicate the presence of foreigners and are prepared to go to war to do so,” Sokka says sullenly, not exactly enjoying having to break this news to you. “He says we have to get rid of the Northerners before they take advantage of you.”

“Of me?” You retort in bewilderment. You definitely didn’t expect that to come out Sokka’s mouth. Katara then places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Galik and his followers believe that your relationship with Zuko- an outsider- has made you too trusting of foreigners. He thinks the Northerners are taking advantage of this trust to worm their way into the affairs of the South.”

“He compared our father to Koa,” Sokka spits irately, still fuming at the memory. “He thinks he’s abusing his position as advisor to go behind your back and make all these changes.”

“That’s not true at all!” You exclaim in disbelief. “Spirits, this has all gotten so out of hand. What am I to do?”

“Hey, don’t worry, we’re going to figure it out. Our dad is already investigating the matter as we speak,” your friend assures you, doing his best to alleviate your worry. “You’re doing great, Chief.”

You give him a meek smile at his encouragement, but his words do little to quell your anxieties. The last thing you want is a civil war to break out between your tribes, but at this point it’s starting to feel inevitable. You just hope Hakoda can put a stop to this before it gets too out of hand.

“Y/n, could I speak to you alone?” Katara asks suddenly much to the surprise of her brother.

“Of course. We’ll have to finish our tour another time, Sokka,” you tell the water tribe boy with an apologetic smile. Turning to his sister, you gesture for her to follow. “There’s something I want to show you.”

You weave your way through the village and back towards the palace square. The towering buildings slowly fade away the further you go, and the air here is more peaceful and serene with the absence of all the merchants and people. After a while you finally reach your stop, allowing Katara a moment to take in the building before her.

“What is this place?” She asks in awe, admiring the pristine marble work of the pillars lining the structure.

“Let’s go inside,” you suggest with a careful smile before ushering her toward. Immediately she’s greeted with a vast expanse of artifacts, artwork, literature, and more. Each section has its own label and scroll of information detailing the importance of the different exhibits, and Katara figures it would probably take hours to look through everything.

“This is incredible. Did you do all of this?”

“This was one of the first buildings I commissioned as Chief,” you recount with a proud smile. “The South lost so much because of the war, and I didn’t want anyone to forget all that we’d been through and all we’d done to survive. This museum holds every piece of history of the Southern Water Tribe, and I hope it can be used to educate others about our strength and resilience.”

“I want the South to grow, Katara. I want us to connect with others, to live in harmony with the other Nations. I want people from all over the world to visit the South and learn about our culture. Is it really so naive of me to have such hope?”

“No, I guess not,” Katara admits guiltily. “Y/n, the reason I wanted to speak to you alone was because I- well, because Malina and my father are together, and I’m not sure how to feel. She’s nothing like my mother, and I don’t think she’s good enough for my dad.”

“I know what it’s like to lose a parent,” you note faintly, absently brushing your fingers against your tiger shark tooth necklace. “I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if my mother began to see someone else. But if it were to happen, I’d know that I’d just have to trust my mother’s judgement. Just like you have to trust your father’s.”

“It’s easier said than done,” Katara says with a huff. You merely give her a comforting smile and pull her figure into a hug.

“Just give it a chance. She doesn’t have to replace your mother, she never will, but it doesn’t hurt to get to know her. I think tonight’s festival would be the perfect opportunity, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re right,” she says with sigh, appreciating your comfort and wisdom. She’s glad to have you, and she knows you feel the same.

You part from your hug and give her a reassuring smile. “I have to head back to the palace now for a meeting with your father and the Northern siblings, but please feel free to stay in here as long as you’d like.”

She watches you depart from the room before turning her attention to the portrait before her. The image depicts a family from before the war, the mother and daughter brushing the animal pelts while the father and son cook freshly caught fish over the fire. They look happy, and Katara begins to feel her chest ache.

~~~

It’s a peaceful day in the Fire Nation as Zuko sits in the gardens and enjoys a cup of tea with his Uncle. It’s certainly been a stressful past few years, so he’s learned to enjoy calm and quiet moments like these where he can finally stop to catch his breath.

A servant approaches the table and bows in respect before offering the Fire Lord a scroll. “This just arrived from the South, sir.”

“Thank you,” he says, taking the scroll before dismissing the servant.

“A letter from the Princess?” Iroh asks with a curious smile, and based on the longing look that plays upon Zuko’s features as he reads the letter, the general confirms his guess to be correct.

“My love, I hope things in the Fire Nation are running smoothly. As you know, Hakoda has invited you for a conference that is to occur in just a few days. However, I’m hosting a celebration tomorrow for Katara and Sokka’s return home, and I would love for you to arrive early and attend! I hope to see you soon, Zuko. Yours truly, y/n.”

Smiling faintly, Zuko tucks the scroll away before looking to his Uncle. “Would you be able to look after things for a few extra days while I’m gone? It appears I’ll be taking my leave to the South earlier than expected.”

“Of course, nephew,” Iroh smiles cordially. “I would like nothing more than to allow you the chance to relax and enjoy some time with your beloved. Please do give the Princess my best.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” the Fire Lord says before excusing himself from the table and heading inside to prepare for his departure.

After months of waiting, Zuko is finally going to be reunited with the one he loves most.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch @docackerman @rinalsword

[my-vanishing-777]

Former prostitute takes aim at her clients in scathing letter

A FORMER sex worker has revealed what she was really thinking all that time in a scathing letter to all the men who paid to have sex with her.

Tanja Rahm

Dear sex customer,

If you think that I ever felt attracted to you, you are terribly mistaken. I have never had any desire to go to work, not once. The only thing on my mind was to make money, and fast.

Do not confuse that with easy money; it was never easy. Fast, yes. Because I quickly learned the many tricks to get you to come as quickly as possible, so I could get you off of me, or from under me, or from behind me.

And no, you never turned me on during the act. I was a great actress. For years I have had the opportunity to practice for free. Actually, it falls under the concept of multi-tasking. Because while you lay there, my thoughts were always elsewhere. Somewhere where I was not confronted with you sucking out my self respect, without spending as much as 10 seconds on the reality of the situation, or to look me in the eye.

If you thought you were doing me a favour by paying me for 30 minutes or an hour, you were wrong. I would rather have had you in and out as fast as possible. When you thought yourself to be my holy saviour, asking what a pretty girl like me was doing in a place like that, you lost your halo when you proceeded to ask me to lie down on my back, and then put all your efforts into feeling my body as much as possible with your hands. Actually, I would have preferred if you had gotten down on your back and had let me do my job.

When you thought you could boost your masculinity by getting me to climax, you need to know that I faked it. I could have won a gold medal in faking it. I faked it so much, that the receptionist would nearly fall off of her chair laughing. What did you expect? You were perhaps number three, or number five, or eight that day.

Did you really think I was able to get turned on mentally or physically by having sex with men I did not choose myself? Not ever. My genitals were burning. From lubricant and condoms. And I was tired. So tired, that often I had to be careful not to close my eyes for fear of falling asleep while my moaning continued on autopilot.

If you thought you paid for loyalty or small talk, you need to think again. I had zero interest in your excuses. I did not care that your wife had pelvic pain, and that you just could not go without sex. Or when you offered any other pathetic excuse for coming to buy sex with me.

When you thought I understood you and had sympathy for you, it was all a lie. I had nothing but contempt for you, and at the same time you destroyed something inside of me. You sowed the seeds of doubt in me. Doubt as to whether all men were just as cynical and unfaithful as you were.

When you praised my appearance, my body, or my sexual abilities, you could just as well have vomited on me. You did not see the person behind the mask. You only saw that which confirmed your illusion of a raunchy woman with an unstoppable sex drive.

In fact, you never said what you thought I wanted to hear. Instead, you said what you yourself needed to hear. You said that, which was needed to preserve your illusion, and which prevented you from thinking about how I had ended up where I was at 20 years of age. Basically, you did not care at all. Because you had one goal only, and that was to show off your power by paying me to use my body as it pleased you.

When a drop of blood appeared on the condom, it was not because my period had just come. It was because my body was a machine, one that could not be interrupted by a monthly cycle, so I inserted a sponge into my vagina, when I menstruated. To be able to continue on the sheets.

And no, I did not go home after you had finished. I continued working, telling the next customer exactly the same story that you had heard. You were all so consumed with your own lust that a little menstrual blood did not stop you.

When you came with objects, lingerie, costumes or toys, and wanted erotic role-play, my inner machine took over. I was disgusted with you and your sometimes quite sick fantasies. The same goes for the times when you smiled and said that I looked like a 17-year-old girl. It did not help that you yourself were 50, 60, 70, or older.

When you regularly violated my boundaries by either kissing me, or inserting your fingers into me, or taking off your condom, you did it knowing perfectly well that it was against the rules. You were testing my ability to say no. And you enjoyed it.

When I did not object clearly enough, or when I too often would simply ignore it. And then you used it in a perverted way to show how much power you had and that you could cross my boundaries.

When I finally told you off, and made it clear that I would not have you as a customer again if you could not respect the rules, you insulted me and my role as prostitute. You were condescending, threatening and rude.

When you buy sex, it says a lot about you, your humanity, and your sexuality. To me, it is a sign of your weakness, even though you confuse it with a sick sort of power and status.

You think you have a right. I mean, the prostitutes are out there anyway, right? But they are only prostitutes because men like you stand in the way of healthy and respectful relationship between men and women.

Prostitutes only exist because men like you feel you have the right to satisfy your sexual urges using the orifices of other people’s bodies.

Prostitutes exist because you and your peers feel that your sexuality requires access to sex whenever it suits you.

Prostitutes exist because you are a misogynist, and because you are more concerned with your own sexual needs than the relationships in which your sexuality could actually flourish.

When you buy sex, it reveals that you have not found the core within your own sexuality. I feel sorry for you, I really do. That you are so mediocre that you think that sex is all about ejaculating into a stranger’s vagina.

And if one is not handy, it is never further away than down the street, where you can pay an unknown woman to be able to empty yourself into a rubber while inside of her.

What a petty and frustrated man you must be. A man unable to create profound and intimate relationships, in which the connection runs deeper than just your ejaculation.

A man, who expresses his feelings through his climaxes, who does not have the ability to verbalise them, but prefers to channel them through his genitals to rid himself of them. What a weak masculinity. A truly masculine man would never degrade himself by paying for sex.

As far as your humanity goes, I believe in the good in people, also in you. I know that deep down, you have a conscience. That you have quietly wondered whether what you did was ethically and morally justifiable. I also know that you defend your actions and likely think that you treated me well, were kind, never mean or did not violate my boundaries.

But you know what? That is called evading your responsibility. You are not confronting reality. You delude yourself in thinking that the people you buy are not bought. Not forced into prostitution.

Maybe you even think that you did me a favour and gave me a break by talking about the weather, or giving me a little massage before you penetrated me. It did me no favours. All it did was confirm to me that I was not worth more. That I was a machine, whose primary function was to let others exploit my sexuality.

I have many experiences from prostitution. They enable me to write this letter to you. But it is a letter, which I would much rather not have written. These are experiences I wish I could have avoided.

You of course, you thought of yourself as one of the nice customers. But there are no nice customers. Just those who confirm the women’s negative view of themselves.

Yours truly,

Tanja Rahm

Tanja Rahm spent three years in different Danish brothels and left prostitution when she was 23-years-old to become a therapist, sexologist and a lecturer. This letter, adapted from one that first appeared on the Danish website Welt, is one of 18 personal stories published in Prostitution Narratives: Stories of Survival in the Sex Trade, a new book by Caroline Norma and Melinda Tankard Reist.

[moonriselabyrinth]

My top 10 Brackwood songs & why each qualifies

War of Hearts by Ruelle: “I can’t help but love you even though I try not to” pretty much sums up the one scene we got between them, it was the tension and undertone we all picked up on. It’s what Davos was thinking as his hand turned just slightly towards Aeron’s even as he approached him heatedly.

Daylight by David Kushner: the expression of religious guilt surrounding sex/a relationship, the lines like “telling myself, I won’t go there” and “telling myself it’s the last time”, the idea that this expression of sexuality must be concealed and only allowed to live at night, I could go on forever probably.

Once More to See You by Mitski: the sweet melancholy of this song while being about loving someone dearly but being forced to keep it secret and living for seeing them just one more time fits Aeron and Davos devastatingly well.

Love and War by Fleurie: to keep it simple the line “lover, hunter, friend and enemy, you will always be every one of these” alone makes it perfect for them.

Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage: The elegance of this song that’s talking about kinky sex is so impressive and lovely to listen to in the first place and I think that fits Aeron and Davos very well. They want to tear each other apart in a tender sort of way. And the singer expressing possessiveness within those moments is, again, very fitting.

Six Feet Under By Billie Eilish: this song is about a love that is already doomed but having hope that with a little care and effort it would flourish even if you know deep down it can’t, you need that hope.

I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski: they are each others losing dogs. “Where I’ll be looking in their eyes when they’re down”, “I’m losing by their side”, “someone to watch me die”.

My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski: Davos and Aeron can’t have much of their own. They live in a time, a place, and within a system that takes everything from them as individuals. They are a Bracken and a Blackwood not Davos and Aeron. They are the sons of highborn men, they are river men, they should be knights and fighters, good at riding horses and killing and hunting, they are to marry a woman and have children and continue on their line. The only thing that truly belongs to them is personal thoughts and feelings. The only thing they can keep for themselves is loving each other.

Doomsday by Lizzy McAlpine: this one might not fit quite as well as some of the others on my list but I really like it for them all the same. I feel they could both easily come into the mindset that one of them feels more than the other because they would each always be putting up fronts and struggling not to show their true feelings so I think the lines like “you'll sit and stare like a goddamn machine” and “I'd like to plan out my part in this but you're such a narcissist” can fit pretty well. But the lines that really bring me back to this song for them are these ones: “The death of me was so quiet, no friends and family allowed, only my murderer, you and the priest who told you to go to hell” also “and the funny thing is I would've married you, if you'd have stuck around” and finally, tragically, “I feel more free than I have in years, six feet in the ground”

Somewhere Only We Know by Keane: this song is less obvious most likely but I like the idea of each of them being tired of the family obligations, the work of everyday life, the façade they have to put up about hating each other so they just daydream about being alone together somewhere know one else even knows about. Perhaps it’s where they go in their minds when life is overwhelming.

Anyway, feel free to share your own or discuss my picks in the replies 😌

[after-witch]

For your yandere Summer oc, i offer you a quote.

What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness?

notes: just vague fae-ish stuff, reader was whisked away unwillingly

--

Sweat sticks to the back of your neck, but you no longer bother wiping it away. It will be there again soon enough--perhaps tomorrow, if you spend the afternoon stretched on some sandy beach, while monstrous machines you barely comprehend fly overhead and poison the air.

You hate these days, and tell him so; but he's seen so much more, and sometimes forgets that you have not--that you do not wish to--and he only gives you a grin and pulls you back down onto the sand. For a kiss or a secret or to sink underneath like turtles burying eggs.

Or perhaps that sheen of sweat will come in a week, where you might taste frozen ice cream made with fruit you've never heard of before. Maybe it will come in a year, in ten years, a century from now, when you are spending yet another summer day underneath the sun, its rays soaking into your clothes, your skin, penetrating down to the marrow of your bones.

God, how you have grown sick of summer. The thought would have never crossed your mind, before. How could it?

If you found yourself wishing for an end to the hot humid days, all you had to do was look ahead on your mother's calendar, picked up every year from town. Summer would be over and the coolness of autumn would settle in, sparing you from the sweat and heavy lead of heat.

And then, when the dead frigid beauty of winter grew dull and you began to miss the way the sun beat down on your back until it was late in the evening, there was only a matter of counting the days until the season began again.

Now? Now, there is no end in sight. No blissful moment when the heat will break and cool autumn nights will come sliding in through a cracked window.

"You're thinking awfully seriously about something," he says, suddenly standing above you; you jump, never used to his surprise appearances. "But what?"

When you look up at him, he is wearing the clothes of a farmer's son. Hand-me-downs, with patches that would have--if he were really a farmer's son, and every angel and devil in the world knows he isn't--been carefully stitched on by a mother or sister or spinster aunt.

Today his hair is blonde and his face is sun-kissed, brown freckles splayed across his nose like specks of paint. He grins at you, tucking his hands behind his head like he hasn't a care in the world.

Well, it might be the truth.

"Does it matter?"

You pull your knees in closer to your chest. Today is a day for being petulant, you decide. It's too hot. You're too sweaty. The beach is deserted and you can't even swipe a coin from someone's purse to buy an ice cream from a cart. There's no one here but you and him and the damned heat of the sun.

"Aw," he says, just as petulant. He has those days, too. Maybe you've rubbed off on him--or is it the other way around? "Don't be like that." he gives you a light poke to the side, and you flinch. "It's a beautiful day."

Your expression must be that damn dour, because even he looks taken aback when you glare at him.

"It's too hot," you say, the words like bitter lemonade. "I'm sick of it. How can I enjoy a hot day, when every day is like this? There's nothing to look forward to, no--no autumn chill that makes you want an extra blanket in the morning, no foggy morning breath while you milk the cows, no..." The endless list of things that are no longer available to you tumbles out, only some of it coherent.

All the while, he simply watches you, waiting for the moment that you run out of steam. When you do, you simply go limp, letting the sweat drip down your neck and drip on the ground with your frustrations.

He tilts his head, and looks more serious, just for a moment. A flicker. So quick that it might have just been a heat mirage, and you blink, just to be sure.

"I can't give you winter," he says, softly. Like you're a stubborn horse in the barn he has to coax. "I wouldn't know how, if I wanted to. But," he adds, and his grin is boyish again, light and airy. "If you want a change, how about a summer storm? I know the perfect place!"

He hops to his feet, and stretches his arm down towards you.

A summer storm is not winter. But it is not this endless heat, either.

What can you do, but take his hand again, and follow where he goes?

[artemfication]

Mammon and his crushing problems

Let’s be real here, he is an absolute simp for MC

He would quite literally kiss the ground they walk on

However…

Mans is too embarrassed to admit he fell in love with a human

Like he is literally the second most powerful of the seven sins, tf u mean simping for some dumb ass human???

Oh fuck they smiled at him, RUN!

poor MC takes that as a sign that he doesn’t like them

They didn’t expect for the seven brothers to like them at all, but it seems like even being near them is too embarrassing for the second born

“MC is not with us for breakfast?”

“Huh? Wdym MC isn’t there for breakfast?! They never miss out on breakfast, and here I thought we could do our make-up togethee!” Asmodeus is a bit confused.

“Do any of you happen to know about their whereabouts?”

“I did hear their door when I was making breakfast. Think it was around seven? They must’ve gone to school early.” Satan mumbles as he takes a bite from his sandwich.

“Strange…I see no need for them to go that early. Not that I’m complaining, but their grades look fine.”

Lucifer’s gaze turns to Mammon and he can already feel another scolding coming from the oldest.

“Don’ look at me, they didn’t tell me anythin’ this mornin’ so ya can’t blame me.”

“You’re right. I was suppose to assign someone else as MC made a request to swap you out for one of your brothers. Their preference was Beelzebub or Satan. Not to worry, I will seek them out at RAD. I have a hunch either the Angels or Solomon came to pick them up…perhaps Thirteen since they became quite close lately. It does make me wonder what made them want to change guardians, though they assured me it’s because they wanted to get to know the others better.”

Ouch…that hurt mammon’s teeny tiny heart

Wasn’t he enough for you?

Did he do something that pissed you off?

“I’m done with breakfast. I’ll go ahead. Mammon’s got the dishes right? I’ll go and seek out MC to accompany them until you’ve had your little talky talk.” Asmodeus quickly gets up and takes one last glance in the mirror before going out to make his way to RAD.

One by one the brothers leave the table until it’s just mammon and lucifer.

“You’ve been awfully quiet mammon”

“Wha- you wanna have me talkin’ all the time or what?”

“That’s not what I was implying, however, you seemed quite surprised and sad when you heard about the change in guardianship. Mind telling me if you did something anyway?”

“Argh, how am I suppose to know? I’m just glad I got them off my back-“

“Lucifer?”

Mammon freezes at the sound of your voice.

“You wanted to speak to me? I’m sorry for not attending breakfast, I was in the library to print out my assignment papers. I have a free period right now as the professor got sick. Asmodeus told me you wanted to talk to me so I came back as you were still here. Saves you a trip to seek me out.”

“How thoughtful of you MC. Yes, I did want to talk to you about the change of guardianship. Please follow me to my office.”

Mammon tries to talk to MC but they give him the cold shoulder and avoid his gaze like the plague.

He’s fucked up for good, hasn’t he?

For the rest of the day he has locked himself in his room, lying on his bed and staring at his screen which plays some random video about how to hack a gambling machine.

Did they hear him say those harsh words?

But he didn’t mean it…

Beelzebub calls for dinner, but mammon has no appetite.

How is he suppose to fix this?

His old self would’ve been happy to be free from that guardianship

But the him now has become so attached to that puny little human

He never wanted to admit it, but it is a fact.

He’s in love with you

But expressing such a thing is so hard

How does Asmodeus do this shit all the time?

Well…not like he’s ever confessed, but rather received confessions…

Mammon has had his fair share of confessions as well. But he never confessed himself.

Do humans and demons confess in the same ways?

He looks up how to confess on Deviltube, watches some human confession movie scenes, but he is none the wiser

A little while later he hears laughter from outside his door and he quietly walks towards the door the peek outside.

“…and so his mom exposed him at a family dinner, for dating all these girls, because she found out their names by accident and the poor guy had to sit through the embarrassment, it was so funny when I heard it!”

MC and Asmodeus are gossiping and giggling as they’re making their way to Asmo’s room

That sweet smile MC wears…

They never smiled at him like that

“Let me get you some cute accessories I recently bought, when I was back home! See if they match with your fit for tomorrow, yeah?”

MC walks to their own room to look through their vanity drawer and are too busy searching that they don’t hear mammon walk in, until he clears his throat

O-oi, human. Can we talk for a sec?”

“I don’t have any grimm on me and no you can’t sell my bathwater.”

“That’s not what I wanted to t-talk about. I-it’s about that guardianship…”

“You’re welcome. Was that it?”

Guilt is weighing heavy on his heart as he hears the slight hurt in their voice

“I don’t want a “you’re welcome”…I just wanted to know why…?”

“Because you’re obviously embarrassed of me. You always run away whenever I look at you. When I try to be nice, you run off. When I ask you a question, you insult me without missing a beat. I know you didn’t like me in the beginning, but what did I ever do for you to hate me so much? Is it because I’m human?”

“N…no, I swear on my Goldie, it ain’t you who’s the problem. It’s me, I’m the one being stupid. I never meant any of those insult towards ya. Ya gotta believe me MC! I-It’s just this stupid feelin’ I get whenever I’m near ya…ya make me feel kinda weird…”

“As in disgust?”

“Nah, nah, not disgust…it’s just…it feels nice…but it also makes me anxious, ya know what I mean?”

At this point mammon is redder than Lucifer’s eyes.

He can feel those beats of sweat drip down the sides of his face

C’mon ya stupid demon, just say your shit!

“I….uh….I…I like you, okay?!” He splutters, eyes closed and his fist balled, not daring to look MC in the eyes

They’re gonna reject him, aren’t they? Just like everyone else-

“Mammon a-are you sure…?”

“You’re ma human…I’m ya first man…I don’t want any of those others to become ya guardian…you’re my precious dumbass human…”

Would you reject this adorably tall, white haired, blushing, stuttering, avatar of Greed?

You must be stupid if you did.

“I’m sorry for being so mean to ya…I was just a lil’ scared of myself.”

The MC is too stunned to speak

“I-I get it if ya gonna reject me…but it was unfair of me to keep ya in the dark…I’m sorry…”

“You dumbass demon…why didn’t you say that earlier?!”

The mammon was too stunned to speak as MC’s arms have found their way around his waist.

“I’m not rejecting you, but you really need to stop doing stupid things…”

“I heard ya…”

Spoiler alert: He didn’t

Mans still gets flustered as hell whenever MC does something as mundane as asking him something or even just walking beside him!

He once passed out when receiving a scolding from Lucifer because MC held his hand

[s-b-party]

Nous & Mythus: A Cycle of the Known & Unknown

****Honkai star rail version 1.6/crown of mundane and divine spoilers ahead****

After getting another update to the Simulated Universe & w/ Dr. Ratio coming soon, it’s a good time for me to discuss about these 2 Aeons & give my thoughts/analysis on them!

So who are these two?

They are Nous the Erudition & Mythus the Enigmata

We’ll start off w/ Nous so what does erudition mean? A synonym we can use is knowledge although that might be a bit oversimplified

Erudition often has the meaning of extensive learning whether it’s from books, practice, lectures, etc. The implication is that an erudite person or thing has a LOT of knowledge; think of a person who’s well-rounded but also has extensive knowledge in the many fields/subjects they have learned about, they can be considered erudite (this is reflected in how Erudition Pathstriders function in terms of gameplay, normally their specialty is dealing AoE dmg to multiple enemies at once as opposed to just a singular target)

Nous takes the form of an astral computer, they are a machine w/ many dangling wires visible & a red “eye” in the center, very much mechanic all around; as for their symbol it seems to speak to their concept quite well

If we look at the background, the cylindrical shapes can be interpreted as scrolls which are often associated w/ learning & knowledge; in the center, the abstract shapes seem to make an eye (their gaze perhaps) but I think it could also be taken as a flash of light which could represent “enlightenment” which we often think of as a sort of critical point in one’s journey in obtaining knowledge

Is it possible that the center is meant to symbolize the moment when Nous reaches their own enlightenment?

To name a few of their more well-known factions, we have the Genius Society & Intelligentsia Guild, both of which have members whom we’ve already officially met in the game: Herta, Screwllum, Ruan Mei from Genius Society and Dr. Ratio from Intelligentsia Guild

Seeing as they’re 2 different factions following the same Aeon, that means there’s something differentiating them, presumably their approach to knowledge

You can tell based on the name of the Genius Society what exactly they focus on (geniuses) which is a bit of a contrast to what the Intelligentsia Guild focuses on which is the dissemination of knowledge meaning that they believe everybody should have access to knowledge

The Genius Society doesn’t seem to share their knowledge that easily which we can see based on how some of the members tend to work alone, one even became known for killing some of the other members despite being in the same organization (#4 Polka Kakamond), Ruan Mei often sticks to herself when it comes to her research, etc; as a result it’s a contrast to how easily knowledge flows within the Intelligentsia Guild which even goes as far as to view it as currency in their motto

Although we’ve pretty much met only one character associated w/ the Intelligentsia Guild officially & despite how much of an asshole he may be, there are aspects related to Dr. Ratio that are in agreement w/ the belief of the Intelligentsia Guild

The name of his banner is Panta Rhei/Panta Rei which is usually associated w/ Heraclitus & it often translated to “Everything Flows”; Heraclitus was a philosopher whose focus was on the movement & changes that the universe goes through which sounds similar to how the faction wants to make knowledge easily accessible (therefore making knowledge flow through the universe)

Ngl the convo between him & Screwllum at the end of the continuance quest had me lost for a bit but I got the gist of it; to sum it up Ratio ended up rescuing the researchers who got teleported by Duke Inferno, Screwllum was wondering why Ratio would just stand back & observe when he could have prevented the situation from being dragged out any further since Ratio had the Phase Flame; Ratio explains that the best thing when dealing w/ ignorant people (in this case, the researchers in the space station including the people in the chat who were gossiping about the situation) is to stand aside & observe bc according to him foolishness is the most difficult thing to cure; Screwllum deduces that Ratio was attempting to make the employees realize that they shouldn’t be idolizing geniuses so much; Dr. Ratio is in a way similar to Alhaitham; they both think that geniuses shouldn’t be made into such a big deal or overly revered; in both cases the reverence of geniuses creates a gap between people based on intelligence

Another aspect which I find both funny and fitting is that Dr. Ratio as a 5 star will be available to EVERY player; as it is implied in the livestream, it’s his way of spreading knowledge to the mediocre; as much as he can be very arrogant & rude, it’s interesting to see that he still upholds the belief that knowledge should be available to everybody, not just to geniuses, in his own unique way

4. The last aspect of Dr. Ratio that I want to touch upon is the combination of his title & name: his full name is Veritas Ratio, veritas meaning “truth/truthfulness” & ratio meaning “reason” in Latin; the title doctor comes from the Latin verb docere which means “to teach/instruct”

This may be a stretch but hear me out: when put together, the name (not necessarily the person) Dr. Veritas Ratio gives off an impression of someone who is either qualified to teach others about “truthful reasoning” or a teacher who is truthful & rational (it might not sound like it but this kinda falls in line w/ Screwllum describing him as candid). Something I noticed is that based on what we’ve seen, not many people in the Genius Society go by the title of Doctor; what I’m trying to get at is that there is something to be said about Ratio having the title of someone who is qualified to teach while members of the Genius Society usually do not really seem that interested in spreading knowledge to the masses or teaching them

This isn’t to say that the Genius Society is entirely incapable of teaching, they probably could if they wanted to (keyword: wanted), it’s more so their motivations & values that differentiate them from the Intelligentsia Guild

Getting back to Nous, both factions do reflect specific sides of the Aeon: both are interested in expanding their knowledge but the Genius Society overall seems to be removed from civilization/society or at least a bit distant (matched by the quote describing the knowledge seeker as having a cold core) while the Intelligentsia Guild has a more cooperative aspect in terms of having a network of intelligence which can be seen in the meaning behind Nous’ signal which is explained in the entry of the Genius Society (although the signal is more so reserved for geniuses, it’s still an attempt at having a group of people work together to find the answers to the universe)

Now that we’ve looked a bit at Nous in detail, I’ll talk about Mythus; as the Aeon of Enigmata, they represent the concept of mysteries that can’t be easily perceived & their form is quite interesting to look at

Their name is related to the word “mythos” which usually refers to the stories & arts that help demonstrate values, beliefs, & attitudes of societies

*I found out recently that apparently the word myth is more of a pejorative term for mythos bc it’s more often than not used to describe stories as false or not true so there is controversy around that*

Overall they look like a jellyfish w/ the main body being faceless & legless while their tentacles/tendrils dangle out; some parts of their body have a unique effect on them that resembles oil spills or the surface of a bubble which is probably meant to be the fog that accompanies them; the staircases that come from their body seem to never end & even fade out into the darkness of space

Their symbol is very similar to their form; you can see the jellyfish w/ tentacles flowing down & in the background there is a ring of rectangles that overlap each other which may be referring to the stairs that appear in their art

The usage of the jellyfish is interesting; just like how the ocean can carry them along, the jellyfish can symbolize flow & movement, perhaps it’s to establish how mysteries simply exist in the universe without push or pull from outside forces

I can see them using the jellyfish due to its connection to one of the biggest mysteries of the world: the ocean (or at least the deeper parts of it); if we think about it, space is like an ocean of stars and unknown things so I think it’s kind of fitting using a jellyfish form to represent mysteries but it might be a stretch

Now a few known factions that follow Mythus are the Riddlers & History Fictionologists: both are pretty straightforward in terms of their agenda which is to enshroud the universe in mysteries

The Riddlers create mysteries by altering texts & words while the History Fictionologists create mysteries by eradicating evidence of past events aka history itself

It is interesting seeing how these factions actively create mysteries sometimes to the point of destruction (of texts, history, etc) even though the existence of Enigmata should be able to exist as long as Mythus exists bc Aeons themselves are manifestations of concepts; in some cases, Aeons can die while the concepts they identify as may still persist to the current time

So how do Nous & Mythus even relate to each other in the overall world building ? Their identifying concepts might appear as opposites of each other (known vs unknown) but I think there’s more to it than that

There is a readable item written by Fu Xuan called “Glimpses into the Beyond” where she explains that Nous doesn’t necessarily provide answers but they provide many questions & that “answers may only be found by oneself”

We also hear of Nous doing calculations & trying to solve the mysteries of the universe & since the Enigmata exists, Nous doesn’t have all of the answers due to the existence of mysteries

I think that while they do know a lot about the universe & can represent knowledge, they can also represent the learning process/the journey for knowledge

Something interesting is that Nous in Greek philosophy refers to the ability to process & perceive information so if Mythus is meant to be the representation of the things that can’t be easily perceived, does that still apply to Nous themself when they’re both Aeons?

Also where does that leave their dynamic? They’re enemies of sorts bc Mythus is trying to destroy certainty left by Nous but this is also a relationship where Nous is essentially searching for the answers to the universe’s mysteries aka what Mythus encapsulates, making Mythus their “goal” I guess you could say

Life will always have people who desire to gain knowledge & it will always have things that have not been discovered/figured out; there is one particular thing that I do wonder about amidst all of this: with Mythus wanting an uncertain future, I wonder how this will spell out for one of the most important concepts in many HYV games: fate

I guess we’ll have to wait & see if they’ll connect this to fate in the future 👀

*I hope you guys enjoy the first lore thread of the new year! :3

[yelenaslyubov]

Cosmic Love

main masterlist || rhaenicent || requests

a/n: this is my first ‘a song of ice and fire’ universe fic i’ve written, as well as the first double character pairing fic i’ve written! i’m still getting the hang of it, so bear with me. i hope you enjoy it, friends! as always, if you want something, don’t be afraid to request it!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x alicent hightower

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ warnings: cheesy sexy tooth rotting fluff x 1000 with a little side of angst.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ description: based on the events during the season two finale and loosely inspired by ‘cosmic love’ by florence + the machine, Alicent has made the journey to Dragonstone to strike a deal with Rhaenyra in regard to the crown. Rhaenyra is blindsided by the unexpected visit by Alicent, especially as Alicent wants Rhaenyra to follow her into the great beyond. what happens if Rhaenyra and Alicent are finally honest with themselves about where they stand?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count: 3.6k

DISCLAIMER: SOME OF THE DIALOGUE DOES NOT BELONG TO ME, IT BELONGS TO HBO!!!

Rhaenyra once again realized that sleep would not find her tonight. Of course, this was nothing new as of late, but there was still hope for improvement in her mind. The endless insomnia that seemed to never leave her would be the bane of her existence.

Ever since the death of Lucerys, Rhaenyra could never find a speck of sleep. Each time her eyes grew heavy, visions of her lost babe would appear to ensure sleep was never possible. It was now, more than ever, that sleep would improve her position.

The realm had its head turned to her and her opposers, and she would not be found lacking. With Daemon gone and some of her own army against her method of warfare, Rhaenyra felt hopeless.

She felt the flutter of her eyelids become heavy, slowly shutting them while thinking thoughts that brought good omens in hopes that tonight would be the night that she may get some rest. As her eyes shut, there was a knock at the door that was a tell tale sign that tonight was not the night for sleep.

Alicent’s held on to the rough, splintered side of the boat that was threatening to knock her off her feet. She had already regretted her choice as soon as she stepped afoot the large ship. The ocean was never her forte and this trip was only confirming her resentments.

She looked in the distance at the formidable island that lay for hundreds of years. She understood the significance, but she refused to acknowledge the indignation she held against it now. It was the home of her enemy, or so she thought. These days she felt her heart growing fonder for her once friend, hence her journey across the sea.

But these were not thoughts that she wanted to impede her brain at this time. They were too deep into the trifle that their indifference and misunderstanding had caused them. She must make haste in her quick thinking that had led her all the way to Dragonstone.

She was led off of the ship as soon as they touched land because wasting time was no option. Though speed was preferred, Alicent could not help but admire her surroundings. The castle and everything that it hugged was exactly how Rhaenyra described it to be. It all felt too surreal for Alicent.

Her fingers dragged along the cobblestone walls that prevented passerby’s from falling to their demise. She could feel the fire that lived here long before She felt it in her bones, and it was the same fire she felt that Rhaenyra had. Perhaps it was only in the name Targaryen, but perhaps it was much more than that.

Alicent approached the guards at the front entrance. “I am here to see Queen Rhaenyra,” she said plainly, even surprising herself by the address.

Each guard looked to each other deciding whether they would allow such a treachery to happen under their watch.

“I come unarmed and in need of confession in the late hour, I swear it.”

The guards took another look, even deeper this time. They studied her appearance; a light blue cloak with a hood to match, along with melancholy eyes. Against their better judgment, they let her through. Of course, this was not possible without the supervision of Rhaenyra’s own guard. He followed close behind and alerted another guard on watch that Queen Rhaenyra was expecting a visitor.

After completing the most daunting of their tasks, it was another struggle to weave through the castle. It proved well to have somewhat of a guide.

They reached a great room with a high ceiling. On the far side of the room was a tall staircase that led to another door. Alicent was asked to remain in the room and wait until prompted.

Rhaenyra prepared herself for whatever could be waiting beyond her quarters. A message delivered by raven could be waiting once again, news of Daemon, or anything that may cause her to lose even more sleep. What she did not expect was her childhood companion to be waiting on the other side.

As Rhaenyra followed her guard, she froze when she saw what was waiting for her.

“I had to see you,” said Alicent, moving closer across the room. Rhaenyra walked down the stairs, leaving Ser Lorent Marbrand.

“Who knows?” Rhaenyra asked.

“None save my protector. He laid down his sword at your gate.” Alicent’s voice was wavering with the weight of her regret. “I’ve been, I think…mistaken.”

Alicent explained the weight of the duty she had to carry all those years after Rhaenyra began to distain her. Her arms had been pulled in every direction possible, only finding moments to herself to indulge in the things that made herself happy.

Regardless of how she felt towards Alicent, Rhaenyra had changed. She was not the woman she was before. She was not the Queen she was before. She realized that now was the time for duty and honor, or so she thought.

Alicent explained that she had been wrongly led astray in her duties and priorities. She realized that there were very few times where she felt completely free, but she acknowledged now that her soul was peaceful. It was poor timing considering the realm’s current situation.

“I have been alone as of late. I walked outside the walls of the city and I felt a weight lifted from me,” she explained.

“How lovely for you,” Rhaenyra said, condescendingly.

“I thought, for the first time, what I would choose…if not for the duty I put before all else.”

Rhaenyra couldn’t help but chuckle at the sentiment. “Shall you cast your son down and rule alone?”

“No,” Alicent was quick to rebuttal. “I do not wish to rule, I wish to live. To be free of all this endless plotting and striving.

“The crown will pursue war and victory at any cost,” Rhaenyra sighed, hoping that Alicent was not naive enough to believe that she would be free of any repercussions.

“I…” Alicent began, “but as for me, I would take my daughter and her child and leave it all behind.

“It’s too late, Alicent,” Rhaenyra laughed.

Pathetic she was; Alicent that is. To think that after all this time she would be able to make freethinking decisions. She was entirely too deep into the war looming above their heads.

The hunger from selfish men could practically be smelled from miles away. There was no stopping their greed and desires now, not after the havoc that Alicent had caused.

“Oh, go then. Leave us behind, as you say.”

Alicent scoffed. “Rhaenyra.” Alicent walked away from Rhaenyra, almost as if she had given up on her original goal of coming to Dragonstone.

“Wander in the wilderness.”

Quickly, Alicent turned around facing Rhaenyra once again. “I came here to entertain you, or so I thought! Was it dim of me to believe that you may still have fondness in your heart for me? I see now that it was.”

“Alicent-”

“I came to ensure a way of peace, even at a price. I know the consequences of my actions and I will forever be reminded of them, but I want to make things right again. I knew your father well enough, and I was blinded by my own dignity and righteousness to see it was I who was mistaken; you have been the true heir.”

Rhaenyra was stunned by Alicent’s honesty. All this time she had taken her for a brainwashed fool, but it seemed that she had learned much in a short period.

“You do understand what this means and the allegations you just put out into the world? Your own son on the line, is that something you would live with?” Rhaenyra asked sincerely.

Alicent produced soft tears forming in the corner of her eyes. She knew the price she would pay for this treason, and yet she was willing to serve this sentence willingly.

“If I am to take the throne, I must put an end to the opposition. I must take Aegon’s head, and I have to do it for all to see. You know this. However you may try to evade it, you know this,” Rhaenyra explained.

Alicent’s tears grew and she held her head in her hands. She could not bear the thought of losing her own child, but the thought of throwing the entire realm into disarray because of his selfish decisions haunted her more. Both decisions could send her into deep despair, but which would bring peace to the masses?

“Choose,” Rhaenyra demanded. “Will you shrink from what you set out to do? Or will you see it through…and make your sacrifice? A son for a son.”

Both regents stared at one another with longing.

A son for a son. Rhaenyra knew the pain well, and casting this decision on another, let alone Alicent, was not made easily or even in good conscience. The thought itself made tears well in Rhaenyra’s eyes as well. They stared at each other and for once it seemed as if they shared each other’s pain. The pain of not only being a woman, but being a mother during these trying times they found themselves in.

Rhaenyra wiped away her tears. “You are much changed.”

“Let us be done with this, please,” Alicent begged.

“And what do I do with you now?”

“You let me go, to do what I promised. And you fly to the Red Keep in three days' time, and you take your throne. Or you take me a liar,” she scoffed. “I have neither weapon nor armor. My life itself is forfeit… I cast myself on the mercy of a friend who once loved me.”

Rhaenyra’s attention was pulled even more into focus at her words. “History will paint you a villain. A cold queen… grasping for power, and then defeated.”

“Let them think what they must. I am at last myself… with no ambition greater than to walk where I please and to breathe the open air. To die unremarked and unnoticed… and be free.”

Rhaenyra smiled fondly. “You speak as if from a distant dream.”

She could picture the two of them walking arm in arm across the courtyard to visit the Godswood as children. The distant dream was really a tried and true memory that was once loved by them both. They had missed each other so deeply but were afraid to admit it after Rhaenyra had felt so betrayed by her friend. Though, it was not Alicent’s fault at all as it was not her doing. It was simply another way for her father to gain the power and credibility he so longed for. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Then, the energy in Rhaenyra’s chamber had shifted; it became lighter and hopeful. There suddenly was an air of forgiveness as well as an unidentified desire present that was yet to be seen.

“Come with me,” Alicent blurted. And so the mysterious desire became quickly apparent.

There seemed to be no decent answer that Rhaenyra could give Alicent that she could possibly muster in the moment. “And why should I do that?”

Alicent came closer. “Oh please, Rhaenyra. Why wouldn’t you?”

Rhaenyra looked down nervously, shuffling her feet. “I have my own duties, I have-”

“Would you please shed your act for one fleeting moment, I beg!” Alicent shouted, causing Rhaenyra to step back in utter shock.

Rhaenyra was taken aback by Alicent’s fury. She was angry now, but she did not quite know who she was angry at. More than likely it was herself that she was angry at, angry for being so blind all this time.

“I have not forgotten about the wish you so hopefully cast upon me that I declined against my better judgment.”

“May you remind me of this request?” Rhaenyra spat. Even though her tone was harsh, she felt fullness in her heart for the first time since she had all of her children surrounded in her presence.

“Back at the Godswood, when we were children,” Alicent said. “Oh, it sounds pathetic now, to think of the dreams we had when we were young. Alas, we were only children.”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra began, “we were.” She paused for a moment to gather her whereabouts, as well and dissect the assumptions that Alicent was alluding to. It was too early to be delving into such things, but Alicent had set out to do just that.

“A-at the Godswood,” Alicent moved closer, “do you remember what you once said?”

Rhaenyra was suddenly reminded of her words that she spoke as her head rested on Alicent’s leg. Additionally, Rhaenyra became frighteningly aware that the two of them were not alone.

Ser Lorent Marbrand stood near the stairs guarding the Queen in any attempt of harm. Rhaenyra waved him off.

“My Queen?” he pushed.

“You may go, Ser Lorent,” Rhaenyra demanded, but the guard stayed put. “You are dismissed!”

The guard left promptly after the Queen’s harsh display of dismissal. Rhaenyra waited until she heard the soft echo of his footsteps before continuing. She did not know exactly which direction this conversation may go, but based on the topics so far, it is one that she did not want others to be present for.

“Continue,” Rhaenyra said to Alicent.

“The words you spoke, your grace.” Rhaenyra was thoroughly shocked at the words that Alicent so carefully crafted. “You had said that-”

“‘I wanted to ride dragon back with you and explore the wonders far across the narrow sea,’” Rhaenyra finished.

“And eat only cake,” they both said in unison.

They remembered that time as if it had occurred only yesterday. They were children, friends, and enemies together. Secretly they hoped that they could be more.

“I cannot help but think, what if I would have agreed to those childish antics?” Alicent asked out loud.

“Why, after all this time have you decided to come crawling back?” Rhaenyra rebutted. “I would even argue that there has not been a more inconvenient time for such games!”

“This is not a game, Rhaenyra! Have I not poured myself out to you enough? What else would you have me do?”

They both paused to stare at one another. Rhaenyra stared deeply at Alicent, studying her expression and desire that she was so eagerly displaying in this moment. Alicent looked at Rhaenyra with the same childlike wonder that she once did. It was the same feeling, but also something brand new and foreign to both of them.

Rhaenyra walked away deeper into the room. She was looking for something she had stowed away a while before this that she thought might be of use. She walked back to Alicent with a slip of parchment in hand and held it out for her in hopes of taking it.

Alicent unfolded the small piece of parchment to reveal a ripped page of a book that she studied for a moment. She looked at Rhaenyra with her glassy expression.

“I assumed you had thrown it into the fireplace to let the flames engulf it,” Alicent said.

“I could not,” Rhaenyra shook her head. “Each time I found myself looking to it, I saw the happy memories of what once was.”

Alicent walked closer to Rhaenyra, causing her to shift in her place near the table. She had not come this close to Alicent since she disguised herself as a septa in order to make good with her, which did not bode well in the end.

Rhaenyra’s heart leaped when Alicent placed her hand atop of Rhaenyra’s. “We can restore those memories and be as we once were. I am sure of it,” Alicent said.

They looked in one another’s eyes to pinpoint the explanation of the longing they had been feeling the entire lonely night. “Let me set it right… please.”

Rhaenyra and Alicent never peeled their eyes away from each other in those fleeting moments. They stared so intently that Rhaenyra did not seem to notice that Alicent had taken her hand into her own, slowly raising it to her lips.

Alicent’s lips parted slightly as she brought them down to Rhaenyra’s hand. She left a gentle kiss upon the back of her hand, eyes never leaving the stars that gleamed within Rhaenyra’s eyes.

Rhaenyra could not wait any longer for the drawn out confession of her companion. She quickly placed her hand against Alicent’s flushed cheek, savoring the new warmth that she had been desiring for a decade.

“Oh, Alicent. We have been so blinded all this time,” Rhaenyra said, lovingly.

“I don’t believe we have been blind, only repressed from the things we truly wanted.”

Rhaenyra stroked Alicent’s cheek with her thumb, while also exploring extremely close to her lips. “How I have missed you.”

“Every light that guided me has been blown out since we have been apart. I always knew I would find my way back somehow,” Alicent explained.

Rhaenyra replaced her hand on Alicent’s cheek with her own lips. She could taste the heat radiating from Alicent’s skin, acting as motivation for her pleadings. Her lips moved closer to Alicent’s, but not without savoring each movement she made. Alicent sighed, her needs being fulfilled at last with the taste of Rhaenyra on her skin.

Alicent’s hands crawled to the back of Rhaenyra’s neck in hopes to guide her right where she wanted. To follow suit, Rhaenyra snaked her hands around Alicent’s bust to hold her close.

“It has been torture staying away from you these long years,” Rhaenyra whispered.

“And it is torture for me to watch you draw it out so,” Alicent whispered back, their lips almost touching. She waited for Rhaenyra to initiate their intimacy in hopes that Rhaenyra really did feel the same way she did.

Slowly, Rhaenyra lingered her parting lips over Alicent’s to graze each pair against each other. The breaths they took were shaky due to their built up nerves that started long ago. They yearned so much for one another that they were paralyzed with the realization that the moment they had waited for was here.

As if a mouse had spoken, Alicent spoke so softly. “I love you.”

“I loved you first,” Rhaenyra responded. “With all my heart.”

Rhaenyra broke the space between them with a kiss they had longed to share. Their kiss said more than they ever could to each other. It was a piece of them that became whole and healed again.

Both of them clawed at one another like rabid animals. Their hands were everywhere on their faces, their hips, their back, and spaces they never knew existed.

Their moans filled the air like a beautiful, intimate song. Rhaenyra tugged on Alicent’s long, curly hair, twirling it around her fingers as her lips moved against Alicent’s.

Alicent held Rhaenyra’s face in her hands as if it was the most precious jewel she had beheld. Her touch was gentle and loving. Alicent took her time to worship Rhaenyra just as she had been intending to do.

This was not near enough for Rhaenyra. She guided Alicent to the nearest wall to rest herself against. Rhaenyra pressed Alicent between the wall and her own burning body. Legends say that it took a special person to tame a dragon, but Alicent Hightower had Rhaenyra Targaryen wrapped around her finger.

Rhaenyra dug her nails into the side of Alicent’s neck while she left hot kisses along the side of her porcelain skin. There was barely skin left to touch by the time that Rhaenyra was done with Alicent.

Alicent had explored the most sensitive parts of Rhaenyra’s skin which elicited sensual responses each and every time. Her tongue was full of wonders as it snaked through Rhaenyra’s mouth and tangled within her own. They may savor the taste of each other for as long as they both roam the earth.

“Come with me,” Alicent hummed against Rhaenyra’s lips.

“And to where would we go?” Rhaenyra replied.

Rhaenyra felt Alicent smile against her lips, causing a roar of fire to be lit in her soul. “Anywhere, as long as it is with you, my Queen.”

“Mm, I could get used to that.” The words were like honey rolling off of her sweet lips. Rhaenyra could listen to her speak as long as she lived. “And what of the war? What shall we do with that?”

Their kissing ceased to exist for the moment which caused Alicent frustration. “Can we forget about that matter for the moment? The war will continue whether we are involved or not, you said it yourself. Bloodshed is inevitable.”

Rhaenyra studied Alicent’s face after she had spoken. There was an incessant need to be impulsive in her head which was frightening to her. She had never gone through those emotions, but there was a voice telling her to listen to the voice.

“Well, we had better get a move on then,” Rhaenyra said.

“You are quite serious?” Alicent laughed in disbelief.

“They say there is no time quite like the present, don’t they?”

And so, the two of them snuck around the darkened corridors of Dragonstone, weaving behind guards and avoiding questioning at all costs. Rhaenyra took Alicent down to the dragon pit for the first time. Syrax was Rhaenyra’s pride and joy, and it gave Rhaenyra great pleasure to fully show Alicent her world as she lived it.

Though Alicent had played her part in the Targaryen story, there was something incredibly profound about being in Dragonstone itself. Just like she had arrived, she could feel the furious energy down to the island’s bones. Real power had lived here for years and it was just getting started.

Playing a part in the Targaryen story took on a whole new meaning as the beginnings of a beautiful relationship bloomed between Rhaenyra and Alicent. They could sail and fly anywhere in the world, but home was such a pleasant place to start.

//

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[jebewonmorelike]

Honeydew Boba For Your Boyfriend?

wc: 1.9k pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: fluffy fluffyyy summary: gunwook desperately tries to save his hyung from himself when one glance at cafeowner!reader has gyuvin acting... delulu. ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ my introductory gyubinnie fic. the funniest little nugget of a boy, i adore him. just wanted to write a short fic to test the gyuvin waters (lmao what) so i hope you enjoy. will be working on some requests this weekend finally, sorry i just needed a little break for a bit! as always, much love to you all and i appreciate you reading and enjoying my writing soooo much :) <3

"So that's a no on the 'Hyung Lover' tramp stamp?"

Gyuvin glares at his younger friend as they walk down the bustling city street. "People who think you're the smart one have clearly never spent more than five minutes with you."

"Five minutes is actually pretty generous," Gunwook replies after careful consideration. "So I probably shouldn't have told Yujinnie to get a matching 'Noona Lover' one then...?"

"Are you bored? Is the 17-hour-a-day schedule not enough for you?" Gyuvin asks rhetorically, pulling his phone out and checking his notifications.

"That's probably what it is," Gunwook replies sadly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I have a whole extra hour to myself every day and I can never figure out what to do with it."

Gyuvin shakes his head in disbelief, huffing out a laugh. "How about you do my laundry?"

Gunwook's eyes widen innocently. "Do you want me to? I can! I promise you can depend on me, hyung, I--."

"Where's this cafe again?" Gyuvin interjects, looking around at the storefronts lining the street. "We've gotta be back in the studio in twenty minutes."

"It's right there," Gunwook replies, pointing up ahead. The two boys walk the remainder of the way to Gunwook's new favorite cafe, the younger boy grabbing the door handle and holding it open for his hyung as they step inside the shop.

"Hi! How are you?" You call from behind your counter, wiping down some of your drink machines with a damp cloth before turning to greet your next customer. It's a quieter Wednesday afternoon than usual and you smile when you recognize the boy approaching the counter. "Hey, I know you."

"Did you see I made the line-up?" The boy named Gunwook asks with a proud smile. "Aren't you excited to tell everyone that an idol comes to your shop for coffee?"

You laugh at his endearing naivety, pointing to the back wall of your cafe where a line of framed celebrity pictures hang. "Not my first time around the block, kid," you joke, watching as his proud smile now turns sheepish. "But I will give it to you that out of all the idols that come in here, you're certainly the most adorable."

A gummy grin spreads across his face as you suddenly notice he's not alone. Behind Gunwook is an equally tall boy, his frame a bit slimmer and hair a bit lighter than your returning customer.

"Oh, hi," you greet hesitantly, as the boy makes eye contact with you; only for him to quickly duck back behind his friend.

"What are you--," Gunwook questions annoyedly, stepping to the side and pushing the other boy out from behind him. "What's wrong with you?"

The thinner boy is staring at you with wide eyes, chewing his bottom lip nervously. The blush on his cheeks tips you off right away as to what he's thinking.

This was hardly the first time you'd received this sort of look from a customer. You thought your product was good enough, but you had overheard gossip more than once that your cafe was the most "beautifully owned" in the city-- and they weren't talking about the decor. Perhaps that's why your celebrity clientele was more abundant than the average cafe.

"This is my hyung who made the line-up with me," Gunwook introduces, patting his friend on the back. "He's--... he's not usually this shy though."

He's cute, you catch yourself thinking, and the genuine look in his eyes admittedly makes you want to mess with him a bit. You needed some excitement after such a slow Wednesday afternoon... What was the harm in playing along?

Clearly unable to function, the other boy merely stands in front of you unmoving as Gunwook confusedly analyzes him. After a few moments, it seems that the younger boy catches on to his friend's thinking, too.

Gunwook looks back at you anxiously-- smiling as if he's not sure if he should pull his friend aside to scold him or not. "I--... Uh, I'll just have--."

"An iced Americano," you finish for him with a laugh, grabbing a plastic cup and writing his name on it in sharpie.

"Do I come here too often?" He jokes. "Should I start being more equitable with my coffee shop patronage?"

"Go ahead," you retort with a smirk. "Let's see if you can get away with 'accidentally' paying a thousand won less anywhere else."

Gunwook's jaw drops. "So you did notice... Why didn't you say anything!?"

You shrug. "I know you trainees don't have any money and I'm not really hurting for business, so it's no skin off my back. But now that you're an idol, I'm sure you'll be able to make it up to me somehow!"

Gunwook laughs abashedly. "Absolutely... I can pay you back with all of my idol money..." He grimaces. "Give me two years?"

"I'll hold you to it," you agree, attention returning to the older boy standing next to him; whose intense gaze on you hasn't let up for at least a minute now. "Are you--... are you gonna order something too, or...?"

Gunwook hits his friend's shoulder in a manner that is clearly supposed to be nonchalant, but the boy is predictably caught off guard and, thus, nearly falls to the ground. Catching himself, he swallows nervously as he meets your eyes again. "I--... Um... Yes."

"Ooookay," you reply with a nod. "What'll it be?"

"I'll have a bobo.”

"BOBA!" Gunwook yells quickly, hitting the boy's shoulder again. "He wants boba... Boba for the babo."

"Uh..." You stumble, fighting the urge to grin at the adorable duo of idiots in front of you. "Sure thing. What flavor?"

"You."

"DEW!" Gunwook yells again, laughing nervously as he grabs his friend by the shoulder and shakes him a little too hard. "Honeydew. I apologize for his pronunciation, he... grew up abroad!"

"Oh, really?" You ask excitedly-- perfect English suddenly flowing out of your mouth. "So did I! Where did you live?"

Both Gunwook and his friend are now staring wide-eyed and panic-stricken back at you. You're enjoying this quite a bit and you're not about to let them off the hook. They turn to each other wordlessly, blinking at each other for a moment before turning back to you.

"Ca-na-da," Gunwook's friend answers finally.

"Oh," you reply, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. "Where in Canada?"

"Uh," the boy stumbles. "The... cold part?"

You blink back at the two tall boys, watching as they squirm slightly under your judging gaze. After you've had your fun, you grin up at them. "Yeah, sounds like Canada to me!"

The boys glance at each other before bursting into nervous laughter. Gunwook throws his arm around his friend's shoulder-- seemingly in relief.

"That'll be 14,000 won," you say; Gunwook starts to fish for cash out of his wallet (the easiest method to stiff you one bill) but he laughs sheepishly when you glare at him. Instead, he hands you his credit card to run through the register.

You hand the card back to the younger boy; grabbing a plastic cup for the boba and looking up at the boy who had ordered it. "What's the name?"

"Your boyfriend," the boy blurts immediately, Gunwook lifting his hand to his forehead to cover his eyes in embarrassment.

"I can't even help you out of that one," the younger boy mumbles, dragging his hand down his face tensely. "His name's Gyuvin and I clearly made a mistake by letting him out of his cage today."

"I'm so sorry," the boy named Gyuvin gushes, suddenly coming to his senses. "I'm sorry, I really didn't--."

"I'll get these drinks out for you both in a few minutes," you cut him off with a straight face as you turn around to your machines, not ready to let him relax just yet. You write Gyuvin's name down on his cup as the two boys walk over to a table to wait for their order.

As you prepare the iced Americano, your eyebrows raise as you hear what sounds like a smack-- followed by an "owwww" from the older boy.

"You're an idiot," you hear Gunwook whisper.

"I know, I know," Gyuvin responds quite glumly, causing you to giggle and subsequently have to cover it up with a cough.

Pouring the milk tea over the boba, you strain to overhear more of the boys' conversation.

"Seriously, hyung," Gunwook continues scolding. "How are you ever supposed to be an idol if you can't even control yourself around the local barista?"

You can hear the pout in Gyuvin's voice as he replies, "Don't pretend like the local barista isn't THE most gorgeous human to ever walk the planet."

"Really? Huh," Gunwook considers genuinely. "I don't see it."

You hear a chair slide back abruptly as Gyuvin yells, "ARE YOU BLIND!?"

You glance over at the boys, who immediately shoot you awkward, overenthusiastic grins as you turn back around.

Gunwook sighs. "Well if you really think that, you've royally messed this up for yourself."

"I dunno... Some people are into weird," Gyuvin responds optimistically and the silence that ensues paints a vivid picture of the undoubtedly hellish death glare that Gunwook is giving him.

Snapping a lid on both drinks, you pull two straws from the container next to the cash register and place one on top of each of the drinks. Before you call the two boys over to grab their order, you smile to yourself as you pick up your sharpie one more time and remove the cap-- carrying out the final phase of your little game...

"Okay, all set!" You call, watching as the boys' heads snap to look at you, awkwardly gathering their things as they rush quickly back up to the counter.

"Thank you SO much," Gunwook says, picking up his iced coffee. "And sorry again."

"I'm so sorry," Gyuvin echoes, nodding at you apologetically. He picks up his boba, eyebrows furrowing suddenly as he examines it. "What is this?"

"Honeydew boba," you answer, running the back of your hand across your forehead. "Just like you ordered."

Gyuvin continues to frown in confusion. "But I hate boba--."

"That's right! You hate it for making you love it so much!" Gunwook swoops in once again as he places a hand on his friend's shoulder, turning him around and forcing him towards the door. "Thanks again!"

"Thank you!" Gyuvin calls as Gunwook opens the door for him and ushers him out of the shop, a small "I think" reaching your ears as the door closes behind them.

~

"I can't believe you," Gunwook groans as the two boys walk down the street back to the studio. "Now I can never go back there again. It was so convenient!"

"Why can't we go back there again?" Gyuvin pouts, sipping his boba and frowning at the taste. "It didn't go THAT badly!"

"You tried to order boba in the flavor of the cafe owner!" Gunwook cries.

"Huh, is that what this is?" Gyuvin says, looking at his drink. "Maybe it's not so bad after all..."

"I'm requesting our lunch breaks are shortened," Gunwook announces, sipping his coffee. "I can't spend this much unstructured time with you."

Gyuvin raises his cup to eye-level, swirling it around as he watches the tapioca pearls dance. His eyebrows furrow as he suddenly notices something scribbled on the cup. "Oh my god."

"What!?" Gunwook says, following Gyuvin's line of sight. "What is it? Let me see!"

Gunwook takes the cup from his hyung, squinting to read the small sharpied writing towards the bottom of the plastic cup. "No way," he breathes as he takes in the sight of the phone number, a small message written under it:

in case you ever want to grab a drink that you actually like :)