#because there's like three different ways for a TAN generator to talk to the online banking

[armpirate]

Soundleasure || San

pairing: Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.8k

Aprox. time of reading: 21 minutes

Warnings: Smut, online sex, male masturbation, female masturbation, teasing, dirty talk, mention of porn. If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: Ready to give up on blind dates and dating apps, you were drawned back to the safe place that was his porn channel. Attracted by a voice and his storytelling, and completely clouded by the amount of emotions, you found yourself sending him a private message. He wouldn't read it, and even less answer it, anyway. Or so you thought.

MASTERLIST

You dropped your keys over the dark green sideboard, placed at the left of the entrance to your place, instead of hanging them on the golden hooks that you bothered to hang to avoid dropping your keys over the first place you found. After losing them almost three times -or, atleast, having the illusion that you lost them because it took you almost an hour to find them in the last corner you'd expect in your place-, you thought it'd be a good idea to place a keyholder so you'd be able to hang the keys in a place proper for them.

Today just wasn't the day to use it. You just wanted to disappear somewhere in between your beed and your blankets, and totally erase what happened that day.

Maybe you had been looking forward to that date a little bit too much. Having high expectations of someone you met on a dating app was a bad start, and could only mean that you wouldn't be ready to have those same expectations dashing against the ground at the minimum inconvenience.

Was it minimum though? You always tried to think that maybe you were a bit too demanding when it came to hookups and relationships, always blaming your previous thoughts and ideas instead of accepting the fact that men, in general, were meant to disappoint you no matter what. You'd see it every day on the different dating apps you had installed, thinking that it'd be easier to find someone than just getting out there and hoping Love to find you. Although, lately you weren't even about love. You were ready to settle for a simple dude that'd get his work done with you, and wait for things to go further as a hopeful thought.

That was definitely too much to ask for.

You met Jordan when you were close to deleting your profile. It was the ninetieth dating app you were going to give up on, until you found a cute tanned guy with green eyes that seemed acceptable when he reached out to you after you matched. The conversation was so fluid after two days, that you didn't hesitate to arrange something with him for the weekend.

It was all nice and comfortable until he started to talk about his past relationships. "I don't usually do dating apps", "I'm not a player", "My ex's were all crazy", and a long etcetera that only had you nodding, while you tried your best to concentrate on your food. If you had learned something over your twenty five years was that those who deny something they aren't even asked about, are exactly the image they try to distance themselves from.

You kept undressing yourself as you made your way to your bed, dropping the wrinkled fabric on it while you were only in your underwear. Only bothering to check your phone when the sound of a notification reached your ears while you put on some comfortable clothes.

Another dick pic.

You didn't know if it was the way this new guy thought a dick pic would turn you on -when you didn't even ask for it, and the conversation didn't go further than a "Hey"-, or the fact that it wasn't even that big of a thing to have you losing it and forgetting about the awful night you had.

It was a failed way to get in your pants. There was no way any girl would get turned on by those kinds of pics unprovoked. If at least it came from a person you actually liked, or were attracted to... But loverboy6577 didn't even give you time for that. And it wasn't like you were planning on giving him a chance after that.

Crawling on the bed, and pushing the dress off the mattress with your feet, you felt your body relaxing over the sheets while you looked at your phone. Another notification popped up on the upper bar, but that one made your heart twitch in your chest with excitement.

He usually never posted videos on Saturdays, but there he was. The thumbnail was completely dark when you clicked on it, and the video description explained how he thought about giving that little surprise to his followers. He spoke generally, but for some reason you felt like he was speaking directly at you. Maybe that night you just needed to believe that he was.

Reaching for your earpods, soon your brain could only focus on his masculine voice setting the mood, while the screen was completely dark.

"Are you okay? I bet today was a long day" you pressed your lips at how perfectly his video fitted with the mood you were in that night. "Let me make it up to you, okay? I promise I'll make it better".

You couldn't avoid giggling, while you cringed, as soon as those kissing sounds came up. It was the thing you least liked from his videos, but you still went through it all because it comforted you somehow. At least it helped you imagine the way his lips might look, slightly moist after he moved his tongue on them to be able to make those sounds loud and clear against the microphone.

"I got you, babe" he whispered again, following more kissing sounds. "Have I already told you how good your skin tastes?" he hummed after that, pretending to be taking off some clothes right after. "Let me undress you, I want to see how beautiful you look completely naked".

And soon those kissing sounds weren't on your lips anymore -at least not on your upper lips. Your core throbbed at the fast image of a pair of sexy eyes peeking over your mound, holding your body gently as he aimed you to your own orgasm.

"Mmm, I'm so addicted to your pussy" he groaned, still making licking sounds.

You didn't know when you slid your hand in your underwear and when you started rubbing your clit. You were only aware of how wet and ready you were when your back arched in a perfect curve after he made a spitting sound. He soon groaned, combining perfectly with your pants as you traced circles slowly.

"You're so tight, hmm" and as he said that, you slid two of your fingers filling you, making you bite your lip as your imagination ran wild. "'Feel so fucking good around my cock".

Your head was unconsciously nodding at his words, pounding your fingers in and out a bit faster as time went by. It was as if his moans were the only thing that set the pace you wanted to follow. The squelching sound of his hand stroking his cock, mixed with his whimperings and gasps made it too vivid for you, almost making you forget you were finger fucking yourself, and convinced there was someone leading the way to paradise, your paradise.

"Cum with me, baby" he sobbed, his voice cracking at the last word.

And it didn't take you too long until shiverings ran over your body, a silenced moan by your lips pressed together making it known you came to one of his videos again.

You found his channel while you scrolled down the porn site. Utterly done with the over staged videos, and the exaggerated moans and faces that made you want to tear your phone against the wall rather than touching yourself. Soon it became a usual thing, as if you were a fan. And, considering the way you behaved and felt at his every post, maybe you were.

It made no sense to you. He was faceless, there was nothing but his voice and the words he used. But it was enough to let your imagination run free, and it worked most of the nights, actually. His content was also quite dynamic, and it felt funny how it always fitted your mood completely, like tonight. Some other times, he would just pretend to be a bit rougher. Or maybe he settled a whole scene, and created a tiny porn scene in everyone's heads. But he always managed to make you feel that good.

Usually, he just seemed so out of reach. Soundleasure was a thing, you forgot he was even a person after cumming. He was just content you consumed, because you felt lonely and needy, and no real man would make you reach your high the way he did with his voice only. But it didn't seem like you thought like that that night.

After cleaning yourself up, and getting out of your bathroom, you thought deep about him. He was a real person. He made you understand your own body in a way that no one else has been able to. And if he was able to do that in the distance, maybe it'd be twice more intense if he ever directed all those words at you only.

Maybe it was your loneliness speaking, or the constant let down by every man you tried to meet casually. Clouded by your own feelings, you went further than just leaving a comment like the rest of women that consumed his content. Your finger scrolled up his page, opening his private messages to write the most cordial text you could think of.

And you forgot about it after sending it. It was too late to delete it. It was obvious he wouldn't answer back, he probably wouldn't even see it -considering the amount of women that probably tried the same thing.

That's why as time went by, you forgot about it.

You kept on with life, focusing on work and still going on dates randomly, keeping your mind focused on finding the man of your dreams. Although it was ridiculous from you to think that man would be in any of those apps.

Until one of those days, a buzz sneakily got your attention. Usually, you'd just check the text later -there was no hurry on reading what most dudes had to say. But that day, you felt curious about it.

Your eyebrows instantly frowned when you realized the notification didn't come from the dating app, but from the pornsite you'd secretly enjoy whenever there was an update. And it was, but not the one you were used to.

You felt lucky when your fingers felt weak, but not enough to drop your phone to the ground when you read his text.

Soundleasure: Hey! Sorry for the late reply. Hope you still think my voice is sexy.

You tried to avoid re-reading your own text after sending it, until you were forced to that night. Your face grimaced as soon as you were aware of how cheeky and desperate you seemed on the text you sent. Saying his voice was sexy? And nothing else? God, your mind was intoxicated by the bullshit you read on those dating apps.

You: Maybe... Or maybe you'll have to work a bit harder to get my attention again.

Soundleasure: Hmm. You answered tho, it seems like I have your attention.

You: Maybe I'm just being polite by replying back.

You: It'd be rude to just leave you on read.

Soundleasure: Oh, so you're considerate. That's nice to know.

Soundleasure: Better reason to work harder so I keep having your focus on me.

You bit your lip, lying on the couch while still holding your phone up high. It seemed too surrealistic to be real. You were talking with him, the man that put your standards on sex above the sky.

You: How are you planning on doing that?

Soundleasure: I don't know... You tell me.

You: I'm good at concentrating, so you probably won't have to do much.

Soundleasure: Hahah

Soundleasure: Ok

Soundleasure: What's your name?

You: Y/n

You: what about you?

You: i doubt soundleasure is your real name.

Soundleasure: haha San. That's my name.

Soundleasure: I'm kinda forced to ask you your age.

You: 25. I've been legal for quite a few years.

You didn't ask him his age, you didn't need to. You knew he was twenty four. It was displayed on the short description he had on his channel, along with the type of content he'd post in it.

It'd been almost a week. And while you thought the conversation would end after that night, the truth was that both San and you kept reaching out to each other, coming up with whatever that came to your heads to keep the conversation alive. You were even surprised when, after two days, he asked for your user on Telegram so you could find a more comfortable way to text -you were close, but not enough to be giving out your private phone number to a stranger.

If you thought San was only attractive in those videos, he proved you wrong by the way he acted so charming and close the more you talked. You always gave up the idea of sending him a text, convincing yourself that you'd lose interest as soon as he seemed approachable enough -or as soon as he felt comfortable enough to show his true colors. But you were so mistaken. It's like he threw a hook on you, and every time he pulled you in, you got more attached.

It was also the way you could go from cackling at the conversation, to being forced to press your thighs close together after he dropped a flirty message, or a suggestive pic as if it was nothing. You obviously played along, surprised by how easily he made that nature flow in you.

That Saturday, you had just sent one of your nsfw pics of your blurry naked figure reflected on the bathroom mirror full of steam. It was clear as day that you were naked after taking your shower, but it was impossible to clearly see what the mist was hiding.

San: Fucking hell, Y/n.......

You saw "Typing..." under his name several times, but it always ended up disappearing and he ended up disconnecting, before he came back a few more times. You giggled as a consequence, thinking that you got what you wanted with that snapshot: triggering San.

San: Omg

You: You liked it?

Your text reeked of fake innocence. He knew, you knew.

San: I hated it

Your heart skipped a beat, stopping completely when you saw that text before he suddenly left the app again. You both had been exchanging that type of pictures almost since you started talking to each other, along with a big amount of spicy texts -especially the days he uploaded content to his channel. It was the cherry on top of a great day for the two of you.

Wearing the bathrobe as the only clothing that covered your body, you sat in the middle of the bed, waiting for his text. You were doubting whether you should text first or not, but your phone buzzing in your palm gave you the answer you were looking for.

San: It's unfair I can't see that in person

His answer made you smile instantly, biting your lip while you thought of the next thing to say. He lived in Los Angeles, on the other side of the country, while you lived in Boston. You were more than four hours away.

You: Maybe we can do something better...

You: are you home?

San: Yeah

San: What did you think about?

You clearly didn't think it through, and you chose to act before you could even process your own idea. Every time you had the idea to do a video call, you'd turn it down with the fear of him not liking you -and, sometimes, not liking him. After talking for a week, you two had high expectations on each other -at least on your side it was like that. More than once you were scared of him being disappointed in the way you looked, and you were also terrified with the idea of ending up upset with him.

But that day it didn't seem to matter to you. You clicked on the video call option, and just waited for him to answer. You held your phone at the level of your face, checking your reflection out while you bit your lip nervously. All the excitement started disappearing when he didn't pick up the call, and you started thinking that maybe you got ahead of yourself.

Suddenly, everything was silent and you got surprised by his face on the screen.

You couldn't believe you were ever scared of not liking him. Not only did he had an attractive voice, and a charming personality, his face also seemed sculpted by the gods. His foxy eyes had a gentle look on them as he stared back at you through the screen, and his dimples made his sharp features look innocent and soft as he smiled.

"So I see you weren't lying on taking a shower" he commented, making one of his eyebrows disappear behind his bangs.

"You thought I was baiting you?" his deep chuckle sent shiverings all over your body, before you chose to keep talking. "It'd have been perfect timing for you to send a picture, too" you pointed out.

You were able to point out that he also took a shower, by the way that the end of his bangs that fell on his forehead -and slightly over his eyes- looked a bit wet still.

"You got ahead of me" he played with his hair, acknowledging your good eye sight with a wide smile. His smile slowly dropped to a smirk, as his eyes concentrated on you for a brief second "You're beautiful".

Taking the compliment the best way you could, you simply smiled and lowered your face enough the moment you felt your cheeks lighting up.

"Don't cover up. That's cute" he giggled.

But you couldn't help it. All the times through messages, you two kept acting confidently, being the sexiest of your versions. But there you were, blushing over the word "beautiful" and the way his eyes shined as he said it.

You clearly weren't used to that type of treatment.

"You also look good" you assured him.

"Better than expected?"

Far better than expected.

While you still were surprised by his good physique, you didn't see his face in either of the pics he sent. Like you, he always ended up covering it with the shape of his phone on the several mirror selfies he took, or he straight up cut off his face. So now that you were seeing him, and confirming he was the perfect combo, your head was struggling to admit San was real and not a person you created out of desperation.

"Maybe" you answered teasingly.

"I already had high expectations on you, but you made sure to break them all off" his mouth was trying to transmit that with appeal, yet his smile and the way he nervously pressed his lips together betrayed him.

Just like it happened whenever you texted each other, the conversation didn't seem to have an ending. And it was the best thing with him, the way you felt you could talk for hours and never get bored. There was always a topic, a situation, an anecdote... always something that had you two engaged for a few more minutes. But you didn't know it'd be even better when you two went silent, staring at each other for some seconds, before you bit your lip and spoke again.

"You said it was unfair you couldn't see me in person" you started, tilting your head slightly, "What exactly do you want to see?".

One of his eyebrows raised at your question, grinning while he rested his back against the office chair in his room. "Your skin. I bet it looks softer than it does in pictures".

Your robe slipped off your right shoulder, exposing your collarbone and the curve of one of your breasts "Can you appreciate it now?".

"Kinda" he sighed, "It looks better than on the pic, but not good enough" he smiled again. "Maybe I need to see a bit more".

Now moving down the robe over your other shoulder, it was hanging on your arms -enough to cover up your nipples, but still showing off your cleavage. It was nothing he hadn't seen before though. You had sent several underwear pics at some point in the night, but somehow it felt different that day.

"Would you be able to handle this in person?" the middle finger of your free hand traced your collarbone ever so gently you felt tickles from your own touch.

"I'd do more than just handle it" he assured, his voice going lower with every word. "But I'd for sure rip that thing off. It's pissing me off".

"You don't need to break it though, just" and with that pause, you undid the knot on the upper part of your belly, allowing the soft fabric to expose your breasts on the screen "open it".

A whimper suddenly came out of his lips, at the same time he tried to find a more comfortable position on his chair. San also rolled it a bit more to the back, showing more than just his torso covered with that gray sweater.

You had never felt the strong need to sit on someone's lap until you saw his legs on the screen, with his hands falling on them lazily.

"Those tits are begging to be sucked"

"Hmm" your right hand kept wandering all over your torso, feeling your nipples tightening at the filth in his words. "I bet they'd look better if they were in your mouth instead".

Just the thought of it got your body working faster than it has ever worked before, as if you were going to take him at any time.

"Of course" he nodded "Getting them hard and stiff until they hurt".

Following his words, your index and thumb rubbed on your nipple, tightening the grip sporadically, ending it with a pinch and pull that got you pressing your thighs at the sudden throb.

"I want to see you, too"

San thought he'd collapse right there when he saw you pouting as you said that, your hand dropping out of the camera vision while your eyes intensely looked at him. Maybe he was too horny, or maybe his lack of experience with any other girl made him so eager for you. But there he was, willing to do anything you'd ask for.

While he took off his sweater, you placed a pillow at the edge of the bed just so you could rest your phone on it and forget about holding it up in the air. You heard him groan at the sight of your half naked body, while your hands still held together the edges of your robe so your lower part wouldn't be exposed.

"I think this is the hardest I've ever been for someone" he mentioned, stroking his growing bulge over his black sweatpants.

"Let me see how hard I'm making you" you asked, kneeling in the middle of the bed.

It didn't take San a minute before he was lowering his pants and boxers enough to let his cock spring free in the air, and ending up resting on his stomach. Your eyes got lost on the shape of his cock, thinking how bad you'd like to suck on its curve, tracing the veins that went from the base to the tip with your tongue.

You could feel your mouth watering at the image, wishing there weren't 2611 miles between you two right at that moment. That man for sure wasn't real. Every inch of his body was perfect.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teasingly asked, stroking his cock while he looked at you.

"I wish that was the problem" you scoffed, bending over, resting your body on your elbows, so you could see his image up close. "I've never wanted to get choked on a cock so bad in my life".

"I bet you'd look gorgeous with your mouth stuffed with it" he groaned.

You smiled, aiming two of your fingers at your mouth. You rubbed the tip of your fingerprints on your flat muscle, just to enclose your lips around them while staring straight at the camera. It felt like your eyes were connecting through the whole thing, because you could hear San cursing as soon as you did that.

"Show me how wet you are while you still suck on those fingers, hmm?"

Biting on your own fingerprints, you smiled. You for sure were leaking at that point, you could fill your juices dripping from your entrance to your clit when you bent over to the camera. Changing your position again, you opened your robe completely with your legs still closed as you saw in front of the camera. And once you made sure everything was seen for him, you spread your legs, having San moaning out loud at the vision of your glistening lips.

Your wet fingers with your spit traveled all the way from your lips to your pussy, moving through your folds for him. Your heart skipped a beat when they reached your clit, finally being taken care of after ignoring it for so long.

"Wet enough to have my face buried in it" his raspy voice added "I bet you taste so fucking good".

And soon those scenarios you planted in your head, with a mysterious man with no face, finally came back to your head with every detail you could add. Your pussy clenched around the emptiness in your walls as your mind went wild and your fingers drew circles slowly.

"I'd love to know if that tongue is good at licking as much as it is at dirty talking" you joked, finding his eyes somewhere on the screen again.

"You can bet I'd have your legs trembling and your ears beeping after you cum" he smirked. "Slide two fingers in. Open up for me".

And just the same way you allowed your fingers to go down your folds and sink them inside of you, you saw San spitting on his hand and wrapping it around his shaft again.

"That's it, honey. Knuckles deep" he encouraged you, making the biggest effort to keep his eyes open through his own pleasure. "Pump them in and out as if it were my cock".

The praise in his words, the way he controlled your movements even from afar had you completely out of your mind. You were sure the sound of his voice was giving you more pleasure than your own fingers.

Managing to open your eyelids, that felt heavy as ever before, you got a moan stuck in the back of your throat as you saw him pumping his cock at a steady pace. The way you were able to see your opened legs through the corner of your eyes, while your eyes were fixed on the porn scene he was pulling made everything hotter. You were sure the temperature rose a few more degrees the moment you started that video call.

"You'd look even better if it was my cock fucking you" he moaned, moving his hand faster on his shaft. "Your tits bouncing every time I pound into you, holding you tight by your hips so you could take it all".

"I bet you'd stretch me out so good" you nodded.

Your brain was close to having a dead short at any time. The naughtiness in his words, mixed with everything that was going on in real life and in your head was too much to handle. Your back arched every time you sinked your fingers in and your palm rubbed on your clit.

"I'm gonna cum" you cried, unable to hold it back any longer.

"I'm so close, too" he groaned, throwing his head back finally. "Wait for me. I'm almost there".

Still moving your fingers in sync with his movements, you found yourself at the edge of the cliff, only allowing yourself to jump from it when you heard muttering he was ready, too. Both of your moans got mixed in the air as you both reached your highs. And, slowly, those moans turned to loud pants while you tried to get some oxygen back to your lungs.

Daring to look at him, you found San with his head falling back to the chair, eyes still closed while he smiled pleased.

"It was amazing" he whispered.

"Yeah" you agreed, sighing.

He finally opened his eyes, and you were mesmerized by how beautiful and genuinely they looked. You saw him getting some air, and opening his mouth, before he got interrupted by a male voice coming from outside the room "Where the fuck is the controller? I need to beat these assholes' asses".

Managing to cover your body with the robe again, you smile at a pissed of San. "It's alright, you can text me later"

"I won't take long" he assured you, before he hung up the video call.

Back in the silence and loneliness in your room, you made your best at holding in the sudden need to jump on the bed and dance away in excitement.

Your bad streak was finally over. 

Most probably this will turn into a long fanfic, just like Kalla did. So take this as a snippet of what's to come soon!

#ff #smut #one shot #reader insert #san #choi san #san smut #ateez #choisanxreader #sanxreader #armpirate

[buttonso]

So… today I’m 40.

I don’t really feel all that different from yesterday, even though by societal standards I’m pretty much a used-up old woman now.

I’m a wife and a mom and an employee. Those are all the identity people like me are expected to have.

I’m also a fandom dork (though I have little time for it anymore). I write fanfic and draw fan art (again… not often anymore but I still claim those hobbies). I play video games. I like fantasy and sci fi books/shows/movies. I have a pretty serious My Little Pony collection. All of that is stuff that’s considered juvenile by many but I see no real reason to give any of that up.

But…

Life is too short to pretend to be anyone but me! And I know I’m pretty old for the Stardew fandom and for tumblr in general, I’ve made a lot of good acquaintances and some honest-to-goodness friends along the way, and I’m just super grateful to be here.

@runawayface , @witchfall, @blackcoffeewrites63 — thanks for talking with me about mom stuff, especially last year when I was pregnant and pretty spooked by the whole thing! I admire all three of you a great deal for your wit, creativity and kindness! You’re also all wonderful writers and AMAZING moms!!

@voyagerlotus - thank you for being my first commenter on my fic who wasn’t also an irl friend. Your early support really helped keep me going. I haven’t seen you online lately but I hope you’re well!

@purpleandgreen13 @stardew-atlantis @ienjoywallpaper @starfruits-and-honey and SO many others… please do not feel slighted if I haven’t tagged you, this post would be SO long if I tagged the whole world— thank you for making tumblr and discord fun, even though I don’t engage much! You all also have fun and wonderfully creative voices and are also so kind and supportive! This goes for pretty much the entirety of Grapefruit Sky and Zuzu City discord servers!

@jer-tan - we don’t interact directly that often anymore but I always smile when I see your posts! I hope you’re doing well!

@purpledemoncat - I respect and admire the hell outta you! You’re so cool and hilarious and talented and I feel privileged to think of you as a friend!

@noirandchocolate - I know I don’t interact directly with you as much as I do with your partner , but your blog is honest-to-goodness one of my favorites and I think you’re amazing! One of these days I’ll stop being shy and interact with you more 😆

There’s so many others I could tag, including folks I know IRL but I already feel like I’m meandering too much. Thanks for making me feel included, everyone. I’m happy that there’s more to my life than just being 40. 😆 I hope all of you are finding joy in something today and that you never feel like you have to stop being YOU just because you reach a certain age. I’m trying not to!

((…heaven knows when I’ll get another fic chapter out but that’s a whooooole other ball o wax lol…))

#personal #buttonso is boring #happy birthday to me #I guess lol

[burnedbyshoto]

eternal love

— A simple love story between a tattoo artist and a flower shop owner. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing

word count: 10,505

a/n: so, ngl... this was something that blew up in my mind at 2 am a few nights ago and after fighting others on whether I should write it, I finally did it!!! I super loved writing this, and I hope you guys will enjoy reading it!!!! a lil fluff for the soul, have fun :D also uh, this works for @bnhabookclub​‘s event so huzzah!

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Spring was a season of renewal. The world is going back to what it once was in its beautiful glory. Baby pinks and soft greens illuminated as far as the eyes could see, the morning mist unable to freeze because of the warmth in the ground. 

The gentle echoing sounds of animals, insects, and more returning to regular activity, the cold winters finally defeated. Butterflies danced in the air, birds sang in the trees, and love was in the air. 

What would be perfect with love?

Flowers.

“Good morning, y/l/n-san,” an elder greeted you.

Your cheeks were already burning with exhaustion, it was only eight in the morning, and you were tired. You wiped the back of your hand to your sweating forehead, your fatigue ignored while you smiled in greeting. “Good morning!”

She stared up at you with kind eyes, her hands holding onto her cane while she cocked her head to the side, “You seem to be quite exhausted this morning.”

There wasn’t much you could say or reply with because it was true.

“Well, we finally have a whole bunch of flowers back, and with White Day approaching us, I’m trying to make sure we’re on track!” you explain, trying to fix the multiple buckets of assorted flowers that you would have outside of your store.

You were a flower shop owner. 

Your entire life, you had lived a life where you had grown up working alongside your parents. This was a family business, and with your parents eldering years and you finally back from schooling, they had decided to take an impromptu trip to see the world, leaving you behind to take care of the store. It wasn’t something you minded; after all, they had allowed you to seek all of your own adventures in your life despite only being owners of a flower shop, but it was a lot of work for just yourself. 

You couldn’t hire anyone to work at the store, after all, while you had never grown up to live in a moment of discomfort, it was because your parents and yourself busted your backs for this store was why it survived. But now it was just you.

Winter had been fine, the flowers never had to leave the store, but this was spring.

Renewal, return, and romance suffocated the airs of Japan, and your slow winter business was already becoming a quick and demanding spring one.

Brushing your soiled hands onto the relatively clean apron you wore, you sighed at the sight of the elder looking past you. ‘Was she that old that she spaced out in public?’ you couldn’t help but think while staring at her. 

“Who’s moving into that shop there?” the elder spoke up, and you hummed, turning around to follow her extended finger. 

The shop next to your family’s flower shop had been vacant for years, the last time you remember anyone being there was in middle school. Now in your early twenties, you didn’t even realize that anyone was moving in. There were a lot of men too! How you had so apparently been ignorant to their massive hustle to move things in shocked you. Damn, maybe you were past the point of exhaustion at this point…

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your eyes growing when you realized just how neater the store looked. They had obviously been working on repairing the store for some time now, the store was painted in a clean and crisp color, the brick walls scrubbed and glittering like new. It was pretty aesthetic.

 “Y/l/n-san! Please help me, it’s my wife’s promotion day, and the flowers I ordered online never arrived!” a voice screamed from a distance away, and your attention turned towards a man who was sobbing while scampering his way over. 

And even with your want to just stare at the army of men moving in machines you’ve never seen in your life, you exhaled softly, turning to face the scared customer.

“Of course, follow me!”

You bid your farewells to the elder and hurried inside, ready to create an arrangement of flowers that the customer would enjoy.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Your exhaustion of the day never seemed to end, the spring day had brought a plethora of customers to your storefront. Many couples, new and old, are surfacing to pick out fresh bouquets together. Their happiness is charming, personalities warming and smiles ever so sweet. They always asked about how you were doing, how your parents were doing — after all, this was a tight community, and they asked about the new business next door.

You couldn’t respond to that last question, your face always burning up in your embarrassment of not knowing. There was no reason for you to not know, after all, it wasn’t as if you were ever doing anything that wasn’t running the store. There was no one to rely on but yourself at this point, but still, exhaustion didn’t mean you could miss the purchase and remodeling of the store right next door to you!

Soon it was nine at night, the now empty wooden carts that were once outdoors dragged back indoors of your store. You took count of your sales today, grinning to see that you had managed to sell everything you had put out today except for a few leftover peonies. You moved back towards the door, ready to turn the Open sign to the Closed side. But you paused when you saw three men walking out of the neighboring shop. 

Your eyes focused on the three of them talking comfortably. You had no idea what they were saying, but still, you concentrate on them, curiosity getting the best of you. They talked for a while while you continued to peer through the glass on the door, the conversation must have been lively considering that one of the men was laughing so frequently you almost wished you could hear what they were saying. But alas, eventually, they embraced, and two of the three men entered the large truck that had been parked in the alleyway practically all day and left.

Frowning, you saw that the man was still standing out there. He was unmoving, looking at who knows what with his hands stuffed into his pockets. The night was dark, and the lights on the street did little to help you create what he looked like in your mind. But with a passing car, the soft light illuminating the man with the gentle headlights, you got a clear image of him.

Well, it would have been clear had your guts scrambled into a knot at the sight of his own eyes piercing into yours.

He had noticed you.

With a loud cry, you dove to the floor, your hands pressed against the cool wood while you thought about your next plan of action. Would he come and confront you? Stalking people like this wasn’t cool in the slightest, and if he wanted to walk over and ask you about it, you wouldn’t be able to lie in the slightest. You knew that about yourself. Or maybe it was just you freaking out? There was a solid chance that this was just you freaking out, right?

Your palms sweat while you pushed off the floor, your body trembling as if you were the starring role of some American horror movie. Sucking in your air, and with a hammering heart, you peeked through the glass. No one was out there.

Sighing in relief, you were grateful to believe that it was either your imagination that he stared at you, or he just didn’t care. But still, even with the exhaustion weighing heavy in your bones, you knew you owed him a greeting. Your mother would have your head when she returned if you didn’t. Plus, it helped that the pink peonies still sat in the bucket, their petals still strong and firm, beautiful and lively. 

With a nod, you walked over to them. Grabbing the peonies, you organized the delicate flowers into a full and lush looking bouquet. You hoped that he liked flowers, and wouldn’t mind the kind you gave him, primarily because you couldn’t provide him with anything else. Nevertheless, you wrapped the flowers in a tan paper and walked out, ready to give your greetings to a newcomer.

The store felt a world away while you walked towards it, and upon stepping in front of the store, it stole your breath away.

It was a tattoo shop.

Tattoos in Japan were no longer being associated with the Yakuza, years of trying to get everyone to accept this western practice by the younger generations had finally succeeded. Tattoo shops were blooming in numbers across the country, and it seemed that your area was no different. 

The outside had large windows, and without even entering the shop, you found it to be quite classy indoors. This wasn’t at all what you were expecting from a tattoo shop! You had always assumed that it was black, something similar to the gates of hell feeling. But with the sign not claiming it was closed, and the store hours showing that it was open until eleven at night, you pushed past the doors. You were glad to see that your pink peonies would make a generous splash of color in the darker colored storefront.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice ever so softly echoing against the unoccupied room. “Is anyone here?”

Cringing at what you said, you groaned. If there was no one here, would that make you a criminal? Oh god, please don’t let that be true! But if there was no one here, why would he leave with the lights on and the door unlocked?! How stupid—

“Can I help you?”

Oh fuck, you’re screwed, was all you could think at first when you turned towards the black curtained hallway. 

The man who stood there was tall, his shoulders wide, and legs firm. His arms — which were covered shoulders to wrists in tattoos, his right side containing only black inked tattoos, and his left in the most colorful ink you’d ever seen — were defined with muscle, stretching the fabric of his dark grey t-shirt. 

A line of piercings down the cartilage of his ears, identical on both sides of his head. His hair, however, was something you’ve never seen before. Half white, half red, with an undercut and detailed shavings at his temples, it was currently held back with a thin black headband that exposed his eyes to you. He was heterochromatic, you could tell immediately by the piercing blue and dark grey eye color he held. But there was nothing to disguise your reaction when you saw the tattoo — scar? — that covered his eye like an overlarge eyepatch.

There was no smile on his face, just a quirked eyebrow and his lips set in an unamused frown.

“Is that a tattoo?!” you asked your jaw to the floor. Your fingers touched the place where the red skin on his face would be on your own. 

“No,” he responded after a beat, his eyes were unbelievably annoyed. Obviously, not at all amused by your intrusion and rude words. “It’s a burn, but again, can I help you, or are you just going to stand there and stare. Not that you look the type to get tattoos, though.”

“I do have piercings, though,” you couldn’t help but defend yourself, your skin feeling like it was burning under his gaze. “But okay, yes. I mean, no! No, you can’t help me because I’m not here for your services.”

His gaze on you only seemed to intensify, a fire and ice storm erupting in his eyes while you wanted to punch yourself in the throat. Good god, be normal.

“I’m your neighbor! Well, I guess I can give you my name. Y/l/n y/n at your service,” you try, your hands thrusting out the peonies in your grasp. His gaze didn’t drop to the flowers, not even a twitch of an eye, which only coursed anxiety through your blood. “I’m the owner slash, not the owner of the flower shop! I hadn’t noticed you ever moving in except today, so I felt super bad! Um, so I just wanted to stop by and say, well, welcome! And uh, well… I just felt bad! These are peonies.”

“I know what flowers those are,” he responds, but his gaze remains unfazed.

What the hell was his problem, you thought, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as if you were being confronted by a deadly predator and not some stupid hot tattoo artist with a bad attitude.

“Oh, cool! Most people think they’re roses for whatever reason,” you laugh, looking at the flowers, your shoulder shrugging. 

“I also know they’re the only flowers you had leftover from your sales today,” he spoke again, and your face twisted when you returned to his gaze again. 

“Excuse me?”

“I was outside when you were pulling all your carts inside, and they were the only ones who weren’t sold today,” he shrugs, his arms crossing before his chest. The muscles on his arms only seem to expand at this, the ink dancing across his skin, forming new images in your mind while you feel like punching him in the jaw. “Is that what you feel about your new neighbor? I’m deserving of day-old flowers that you were unable to sell?”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, the frustration in your blood climbing while you held his stare. “I mean, are they new and super fresh flowers, no! But they haven’t even wilted yet because I know how to take care of my crap! I just finished the winter season where flower sales are always less than favored, so sorry I couldn’t toss you a thousand yen bouquet!”

There was a silence that floated across the room, his eyes staring into yours, and you could do nothing but stare back at him. Your shoulders rag with your uncontrolled angry breathing, what a fucking asshole he was! Who did he think he was?!

“Well, I guess I’m sorry to hear that you’re broke,” he sighs, finally taking strides over towards you. There’s a part of you that yells to leave the store immediately, and an even larger part of you that screams to step at him too, throw him off his trail! But in your indecisiveness, he stands before you, taking the flowers from your hands. “Todoroki Shouto.”

“That is so obviously not my name,” you roll your eyes, your arms folding across your chest. 

There’s a small huff of air from the man, his eyes looking at you full of judgment and the smallest bits of amusement. 

“Oh!” you gasp, your hands covering your mouth.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto,” he tries, his eyebrow lifting again, his lip trying perking into a smirk. “But, thanks for confirming we don’t have the same name.”

If there was a god, he would shoot you from this world at this very moment; your fists shoved into the pockets of your apron.

“Okay,” you agree, your lips pursing in your horrible, horrible attempt at masking your hurt pride. “Well, I am utterly exhausted, so I am going to leave now. Have fun with your dumb tattoo shop, Todoroki-san, I am… going to sleep.”

You turned on your heel, ready to run from this shop like the devil was hot on your heels.

“Well, see you around—” he responded, your hands pressing onto the door to leave— “Y/l/n.”

The ringing of your blood in your ears heavily outweighed his voice because you didn’t even stare at him as you continued to walk down the pathway to reenter your shop. Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t look back because had you, you would’ve seen Shouto’s fingers caressing the pink petals of the flower, and his lips moved to say one thing.

“Welcome.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ One ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It had been a week since you had seen Shouto. The new tattoo shop seemed positively overwhelmed by new customers, countless amount of young people filing into their appointment times, and the few days he had free hours. It, fortunately, did bring you new crowds of customers. Friends and couples alike bringing in the warm spring air into your shop while they bought flowers in commemoration of their new tattoos. 

There was no stopping this, it seemed.

“Thank you for your service, please come again,” you called out after the giggling and slightly tipsy group of girls who happened to be your last customers of the day.

Today has been a good day.

You weren’t at all exhausted, in fact, you felt relatively light on your feet still despite it being 8:56 p.m. Since it was so late at night, and with the knowledge of there hardly ever being last-second customers you started cleaning up for the night. But as you grabbed the broom, the familiar bell of the entrance of the shop rang in your ears.

Sighing, you dropped the broom and turned towards the counter, “Welcome!”

The figure at the door shocked you, it was Shouto. He stood there with his fingers hooked in the loops of his black jeans, and the white v-neck did nothing to conceal anything about his tattoos or his dumb muscles. 

“Hey!” you smiled, the smile on your face as fake as the festive flowers sitting on the counter — the ironies of working at a flower shop.

“I’m looking for recommendations,” Shouto admitted, his strides stopping him before you. “It’s one of my friends' birthdays coming soon, in a few weeks. He doesn’t like getting presents, but he likes flowers. I was hoping you could help me out here.”

Your jaw drops, words failing you seeing the way that his hair falls so elegantly between his eyes. His eyes are concentrated on the pre-arranged flower arrangements demonstrated on the table as samples and you cough.

“Uh, yes, do you know any of his favorite flowers?”

“No, he’s not really that open about his interests,” Shouto admits, his shoulders shrugging,

“When do you need the arrangement?”

“His birthday is April 20,” Shouto says, a sigh on his lips while he looks up at you. “I’m not sure if there was a time requirement to request things, especially given that you work here alone.”

“I do not work here alone!” you cry, your blood sparking in a fury. “I mean, yes, right now I do, but it’s not always like this! I’m just being a good child and letting my parents have the travels of their lifetime!”

Shouto hums, his face unconvinced, but he seems a bit perplexed, “Did I do something that first night to you?”

That takes you entirely off guard, “Excuse me?”

“Well, after the first night we officially met, you have avoided me very well.”

“I-I’m very busy with this store!”

“I walked out of the store to pick up supplies while you were speaking with your own customer. I saw you run into the door, trying to make your way back indoors.”

“You saw that?!”

“A lot of my friends say I can come off coldly at first, and I know that it’s true, and I’m trying to work on it. I, myself, was exhausted that day too because we put the entire shop together in a single day, so I let myself slip up,” Shouto admits, and you can feel your face beating in time with your embarrassed pulse. Why was this so hard? “I haven’t had the time to come over since opening, so I’m trying now.”

“So the birthday thing is a fake way to get me to talk?” you asked, your lips twitching in your losing battle to keep from smirking.

“Yes and no,” he smiles softly. It almost takes you by surprise, the smile seemed too gentle, too sweet to be on the face of someone who looked like they’d murder you in an alleyway. “I’m not that incompetent to know that I have a few weeks to give until I really need to get those plans under wraps.”

There’s a laugh that bubbles in your throat, and you sigh, unbelieving of what he was doing. 

“You’re kind of weird,” you tease, untying your apron for it was now long past the store's open hours. “But since you’re not a customer, I will be asking you to leave at once.”

“But—!”

“No exceptions! I can’t be seen playing favorites, the elders will gossip,” you firmly state, moving from behind the counter to shoo him from your store.

“I want to buy a flower then,” Shouto insists, pulling out a leatherbound wallet. 

Your eyes narrow, lucky bitch.

“What flower would you like?” you ask. Your customer service smile painted on your face. 

“Do you happen to have any ajisai’s?” Shouto asks, and you think.

You did have some!

Nodding, you pointed your finger towards the pack where small bouquets of ajisai’s sat. Shouto nodded, walking over and grabbing one and making it back.

“That’ll be seven hundred yen,” you say the moment he arrives back.

“The sign said six hundred,” Shouto points out.

“You have me seven minutes over closing time, it’s my gratuity tip,” you tease, grinning when he places seven hundred yen down. You focus back on the cash register, inputting the last sale into it and fixing up the computer before returning your attention back to Shouto, who was staring at the flowers in his hands.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the flowers into your hands and walking away before you could yell at him.

The pink-tipped flowers sat in your hands, ajisai — or hydrangeas — were small and delicate flowers, but they were stunning in your eyes. Rolling your eyes, you put the flowers next to the fake festive ones and went to clean up, the small smile on your own face irreplaceable as you cleaned up.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Two ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

In the following weeks, you and Shouto had begun a strange friendship of sorts. Your breaks during your lunch and dinner times were accompanied by Shouto, who was always over at the time. The tattoo shop was doing exceptionally well, and because of that, he even had other artists there with him, and just gained an official piercer. They were a great crew, all bright and caring people who often had you laughing on the rare occasions you visited his shop. But Shouto always had his time slot blocked out during your breaks, and he would come over with snacks and opinions for the two of you to discuss.

He was definitely an odd person. He was very open about a lot of things, almost too honest. In weeks, you knew more about him than some of your own childhood friends, and you had been involved with most of their stories! Todoroki Shouto was someone to admire though, he was brilliant, a person who never failed to make you smile with his often idiotic tendencies. 

He was smart but dumber than a rock.

But as the two of you grew comfortable, there was one thing itching at the back of your mind, the one question you always had when you saw people with tattoos. 

“What do your tattoos mean?” you couldn’t help but ask, your eyes shining while looking at his arm that was poised high to deliver the cold soba noodles into his awaiting mouth. “I mean, I know there’s a lot, but one side is colorful and bold, and the other is simple and beautiful.”

Shouto finished the noodles on his chopsticks, his lips soaked with the oils on the noodles. “Do you want to know about a particular one?” he asked, resting the chopsticks down and extending his arms for you to see. 

You leaned forward on the stool you were sitting on, observing the lines that created the art on his skin. You were fascinated by both sleeves, and he had incredible artwork on both sides of his arms. There was also some hidden motif behind each side, fire versus ice… But which one to ask about first?

“Can you just tell me why you have two sleeves that are starkly different?” you asked with a curious glint of your eyes. “I mean black ink on one side versus only color? Is there a reason, or was it just something that happened by accident?”

“Oh, there’s a reason for it,” Shouto adjusted on his chair, clearing his throat while he extended his arms. “You can tell just by looking at me, but my left side is what I’ve always associated with my dad: the red hair, blue eyes. My right side is something that I connect with my mom: the white hair, grey eyes. Colored tattoos are always more painful, they tell a very exact story. There isn’t any room for argument because it is seen in one way and one way only. You can deceive, and you can hide, but the truth is there. When I got my first tattoo, I still hated my dad with everything I had, and I wanted to cover every part of my body that I could that would erase him from me. Which is my left side. And like colored tattoos, he was painful, exact, and unchanging. My right side is black ink only because things become confusing, discerning, unknown—” his fingers trace the curving lines on his right arm— “you don’t know where it starts, where it ends, but it’s ever present. It’s comforting because it can change with how you need it to change. You can have other fills in its blanks, to piece together its story, but it has distinct intentions. It’s strong and adaptable.”

You take in his words, unable to think of anything but absorb his words. There’s a soft understanding to his tattoos. Once done in defiant, spoke stories of not only who he was, but who he is today. 

“Okay, so I know I’m just a super lame florist, but what do you think about me getting a tattoo?” you asked, your teeth biting into your lower lip with your confusion and hope. “I mean, I’ve never really wanted one before, but that was because of social stigma and all, but seeing yours and your friends all the time… I’m curious.”

Shouto’s brows raise; he doesn’t say anything; however, studying your face.

“What are you thinking about in particular?” he asked his eyebrow scrunching, his head tilting to the side. “Anything at all?”

You blew a raspberry, your hands pressing to your lap, your shoulders falling to your ears.

“I like symbolic things a lot,” you admit with a shrug. “I don’t think I could ever get a sleeve tattoo, so I want it to make sense and have meaning to me. Like… I don’t know a sakura blossom, but maybe not that? I don’t know!”

Shouto laughs softly, the sound pleasant on your ears while you thrash your legs like a child. 

“Well, I think I can help you at the very least draw you something,” he suggests, a hand offered out in a deal. “I am a tattoo artist, after all.”

“I’m not sure if I can trust you,” you playfully scoff, your arms folding across your chest while you shake your head. “I might doze off under the needle and wake up to a walking penis on my back!”

“A penis?” Shouto repeated, an award-winning smile gracing his face while you huff, your laughter failing at being masked.

“It’s what happened in middle school to people caught sleeping! Didn’t it happen to you?”

“Not at all.”

“Right, you rich kid middle schools were a breeding ground for far worse. What type of prepubescent hazing did your school do?”

“What makes you think there was hazing?”

“How could there not be!”

The doorbell chimes in the distance and the lively debate is over when you check the time, it was time to reopen it seems.

“I’ll figure out what you did back as a pubescent child,” you promise, watching as Shouto rises with you, his own alarm going off. “But would you really draw me a tattoo?”

Shouto nods, following you out to the entrance of the shop, “I will if you ask me to.”

Uncertainty sits in your stomach, you weren’t sure if it was something that you wanted right now, it had, after all, come up as a moment of trying to create conversation more than being an honest truth. But if it was something that Shouto drew for you, maybe you would.

“I’ll let you know if I want it,” you promise, your eyes closing with your warm smile. 

Shouto hums in agreement, his head nodding once. He seems to hesitate for a bit and ultimately walks over to where there was a gathering of flowers and picks out a single himawari. Your eyes narrow in silent teasing when he walks it over to the counter, his hands already reaching for his wallet.  

You accept the change, giving him back what you owed him, and was once again shocked to see him resting the flower in your hands. 

“For you,” he smiled, his shoulders shrugging.

“You’re so weird,” you wrinkle your nose, still accepting the flower from his fingers with a bright smile. “Thank you for the beautiful himawari.”

“Mm, you’re welcome,” Shouto nodded, slipping on the beanie he had removed upon entering the warm flower shop. “See ya later, y/l/n?”

You nod, waving as he left to which he graciously flipped the sign for you to read that you were once again open. “Bye, Todoroki-san!”

Himawari flowers, otherwise known as sunflowers, always filled you with warmth and love. A flower that is known to be a personal sun on this earth without ever once providing a shred of warmth. There was no denying that it was beautiful, but you shook your head, leaving it on the table in the hallway that leads to your home above the shop. You’d dry and press it once the day was over. 

Yes, you decided, that’s how it was going to go.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Three ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I always forget the wedding season is a thing! Stop looking at me like that, and please help me!”

Most people would never expect to see a community staple member who ran the flower shop to be on their hands and knees, holding onto the ankles of one of the most intimidating and newest members of the community while they begged for help. Well, to be honest, no one could even consider what you were doing to be begging. It was a full-on psycho messy bitch cry for help. 

“I said I was going to help you already, what else do you possibly need from me?” Shouto groaned, his vans clad foot trying to wiggle you loose from his ankle. “...don’t tell me.”

“Well, you know what I’m asking then!” you whine, your eyes welling with tears at Shouto’s straight face.

Your face had an array of dried petals on your face, dirt caking the undersides of your fingernails, grass, and leaves in your hair, and desperation reeking from your face. 

“My parents still aren’t back! My friends are all busy living their own lives too far away to help me properly, and you’re the only person I trust! You’re a tattoo artist, you have to have a delicate hand, right? Please help me and let me use your crew too, I promise I’ll pay!”

Shouto groans, managing to kick you free from his foot, and pulling you up to your feet so that the noisy people watching would hopefully leave. “If you want the others to help you out, you need to ask them. I’m not going to force them to do anything.”

Your eyes blow wide, excitement simmering in your cells while your hands grip onto his biceps for support, and his own hands rested on your hips. 

“Really?! You’ll let me do that?!”

Shouto breathed heavily out of his nose, took a second to recompose himself before letting that small smile appear on his face. The grateful squeal that left your lips was something that shocked him, Shouto won’t lie, but it was the hug you threw around his neck that had him stumbling. He watched in a frozen trance as you stormed into his shop, arms waving animatedly above your head while you explained your need for help to his employees. He didn’t follow you in though, choosing to instead watch you from outside the shop because it was his break right now, and he wasn’t going to be spending it inside the shop. 

You returned with a smug smirk on your face, dirt-smudged on your cheek while you nodded your head in victory. 

“Well, it looks like I have a team,” you say with a mock casualty. “I am, what the cool kids call, persuasive.”

A weird feeling floods to the tips of Shouto’s fingers at your words was this… annoyance? There was no reason for him to be annoyed that his friends would be coming over to help you. You needed the help. So what if you wouldn’t be talking to him and only him.

“Persuasive, or annoying?” Shouto tries you, and the way you focused on him in your flustered state was enough for a small chuckle to escape his lips. Before you could respond in defense to your persuasive tongue, he was already en route towards your shop. “You wasted five minutes of my break, please don’t waste the other ten.”

He wasn’t sure what made him grin more, the loud cry of “you’re an asshole, Todoroki-san,” the childish stomping coming from behind him, or the cheerful laughter that soaked your tongue at your own silly antics. But still, the grin became a soft smile when he turned to face you, the shop door in his hand while he held it for you. 

“After you.”

“Damn right, after me.”

~

“You guys are actually very good at this,” you marvel, peering over Shouto’s shoulder, watching as he and his coworkers assembled the vase of statement flowers.

Todoroki Shouto, Kaminari Denki, Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki.

Five equally large men, decked out in tattoos and piercings, with a punk look to them sat pinched together on tables meant to hold more than five men dainty arranging soft pinks and white-colored flowers with your princess pop music blaring in the background. It was very different to how they were in their shop, but it amused you to see them like this.

They were a group of childhood friends who apparently all had the same dream and worked together to make this tattoo shop. Shouto, being the most wealthy of them, had been the name signed on all the papers, explaining the reasons why he was the one you had first met those many nights ago. 

But with five different weddings coming up at the moment, you were more stressed about getting these things done and fast. The good thing, however, was that it seemed most of them were striving perfectionists. 

Shouto, Bakugou, Midoriya, and Shinsou were all on top of it, having only needing you to explain the arrangements once for them to get it. Kaminari took two tries, but he was also very, very social, and took his time. They were a bizarre dynamic, but it was something you enjoyed.

“Damn right we are, this shit is so fucking easy,” Bakugou responded back, shoving yet another completed arrangement your way. “And why are you just fucking staring at us? Why aren’t you helping?”

You hummed, grabbing the completed vase, and placing it with the others from this particular wedding. “Because I already met my quota, and I can’t pull out the other arrangement until you guys are done.”

“Oh, there’s another one?” Midoriya asked, handing you a completed vase.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind!” you feel your face heating while they were finishing up their final vases, Bakugou snatching some of Kaminari since he had more leftover. “I just didn’t expect you guys to haul these so quickly! And well, there’s just one left I have to do!”

“We are amazing,” Kaminari says, twirling a stem of baby’s-breath in his fingers. “I can see why you were so eager to sign us to your shop. “I make perfect commentary, Shinsou has that calming effect, Deku is sweet and kind, Shouto is obviously the closest to you, and Bakugou.”

You blinked, as did everyone else, staring at the blond who wove the baby’s-breath into the arrangement with a soft touch. Wasn’t he going to finish that sentence?

“And I what?” Bakugou growls, his ears tinging red with his annoyance.

“Hm?” Kaminari perks his eyebrows, his gaze lazily resting on the ash blond. “Oh, no, that was it!”

There was a loud screech of the chair against the floor, and Midoriya was holding back Bakugou while Kaminari screeched, hiding behind Shinsou.

“Here you go,” Shouto sighed, handing you the prior arrangement for this wedding batch. 

“Thank you,” you smile gratefully, the sounds of the raging war between Bakugou and Kaminari fading into background noise while you hold Shouto’s gaze. “For all of this too, you guys are keeping me from a countless amount of all-nighters.”

“Well, as long as they don’t wreck your shop, then I guess the payment will be okay,” Shouto sighed, not bothering to even look at how Midoriya was losing ground on keeping Bakugou back.

“As long as there isn’t any blood or teeth on the floor, I’ll give it to ya,” you grin, gesturing with your head for him to follow you.

While you and Shouto had gone to get the final wedding arrangements, Shinsou had managed to get Bakugou to calm down and sit. This arrangement was simple, and there were only twelve of them you needed to make, and before you knew it, everyone was leaving, waving as they went. Only Shouto stayed behind, helping you put away the chairs and the tables, while also setting the flowers into the freezer until they would be collected.

It was almost midnight by the time the two of you had cleaned up the shop, and Shouto leaned against the counter while you sprawled onto the floor, exhausted. 

“I think,” you mumble, exhaustion fluttering through you. “I think Imma just, sleep here.”

“I’m not going to let you do that,” Shouto sighs, walking over to you. “You’re bordering disgusting right now, and you need to shower before sleeping.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone right now,” you point your finger at him definitely. “I think I can become one with the ground right now.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Shouto decided, pulling you up to your feet. Something that made you groan and press your forehead to his chest when you got you up. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll walk you to your stairs.”

Snorting, you shake your head, pushing him away, “No, it’s okay, I was just being annoying. Besides, I need to lock up down here once you leave.”

Shouto frowns, but he doesn’t move to argue with that, because it was true. 

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” you insist, smiling sweetly up at the man who was wearing one of your bandanas. 

“Okay,” Shouto finally agreed, moving towards the door.

When you got to the door, ready to see him out, Shouto paused. 

He turned to you, his head tilting, and your lips parted to question him, but before any words could fall from your tongue, he raised his hand.

In his hand, he rested a pink arusutoromeria. It was most definitely a leftover from one of the arrangements statement flowers, but it sat daintily in his hand. Under the moonlight, it was almost ethereal in his hold, and you felt a small warmth build in your cheeks.

“That’s called stealing from my clients, ya know,” you tease, the exhaustion in you dying the moment you took the flower from his hand. “I’m going to have to take this out of your paycheck.”

“Don’t pay me,” Shouto insisted softly, his lips peeking into a half-smile. “I would’ve helped, even if you hadn’t asked.”

“That’s ridiculous, I wouldn’t have let you,” you shove his arm, but he went unmoved. His two-colored eyes shining in mirth while continuing to stare at you. 

“I know,” he whispers, his gaze holding yours. “Goodnight, y/l/n.”

“Goodnight, Todoroki-san.”

Shouto licked his lips, his face wincing just the smallest bit before shaking his head, “I think you can drop the formality, we’re passed that.”

You didn’t have time to react, only whispering his last name while he exited your shop into the nighttime. But you looked down at the arusutoromeria, otherwise known as the Alstroemeria Peruvian lily. The peachy and pink waxy petals smooth under your fingertip, but it made your heart warm.

Shouto really did pick the most beautiful flowers.

But why was it always for you?

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Four ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“The shop isn’t open today, Todoroki-chan!”

Shouto turned around to see two elders watching him while he had failed to open your shop’s doors.

“Oh, thank you,” he thanked them, bowing in greetings. “Do you know why? Y/l/n didn’t mention anything yesterday?”

“We do, actually! The park hosts the summertime festival, and they’re in charge of the floral arrangements you see going on there! Y/l/n might be there right now!”

Shouto nodded, the banners that had been advertising for the said festival had been up for the past two weeks.

“Thank you,” he said, leaving the two elders to themselves before returning to his own shop.

Today was a busy day, and since he wasn’t going to have time to spend his break with you, he decided he’d just move on to his latest client. Ignoring the questionative and gossiping look of Kaminari, he called on the girl who was here for her last touch up.

He’d go and see you when you returned. 

It was three in the morning when you were finally back at your shop. Festivals were indeed something of exhaustion. You spent six hours putting up flowers all over people's booths and stalls in order for things to look beautiful. Then when the festival began at three in the afternoon, you’d be in your own booth handing out single roses, lilies, and tulips to lovers, friends, and family who wanted to cheer others up.

Flower sales have always confused you. Flowers, after all, were almost pointless since most of them were bought without the roots and soil. You were gifting something that was on the verge of death that wouldn’t last longer than twenty-one days if you were lucky. But you couldn’t complain, on the other hand. The people’s faces that exploded with affection and love after receiving the flowers made it worth knowing that these dying presents had meaning to them.

But festivals by yourself were hell. 

Restocking the flowers, handling the money, trying to give out the flowers all by yourself had proven to be a handful. This was at the least a two-person job, and with your parents still not returning anytime soon, it was hard. You couldn’t ask anyone to help you because everyone you knew who would accept your money to work had to work until late today too.

But you had survived, as you had been for the past few months. So when you tiredly stabbed your key into the air, trying your best to get it into the lock, a sudden noise scared you.

Turning towards the sound, your tired eyes widened upon seeing Shouto walking out with a young woman next to him. She was tall, grand, and even with your tired, dried out, and blurry eyes, you could tell she was beautiful. You saw the way that politely and effortlessly giggled, her dark eyes warm and sweet while she talked to Shouto.

And Shouto, how you had entirely missed him today. But he was obviously enraptured by this woman, his facial features looking kind and sweet while they talked.

A weird feeling tightened in your stomach, what the hell was that? You blinked multiple times, your head muggy and far too foggy for your liking. This wasn’t your business, you thought, finally succeeding in opening your shop door. But with a strong pull of the wagon you had, you watched in horror as the top bins clattered to the floor.

You hauled the wagon in, desperate to get out there and get the remaining fallen items off the floor. You thought having eaten only breakfast today would have rendered you unable to be as stupidly strong as you were at that moment. But as you went to pick up the boxes, you saw Shouto approaching you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Oh, hey, Todoroki!” you laugh, trying to lift the boxes, but you were failing at it. “I didn’t see you all day, how are you?”

Shouto shrugged, his lower lips jutting out slightly too. 

“Good, I didn’t realize you were working for the festival, all day at that,” he admitted while moving to help you. “How’d it go.”

“Well,” you think about it, watching your friend take the boxes from your hands and holding them with ease despite your own fumbling. “I, um… it was hard.”

Shouto listened to you while you explained how you handled your booth on your own. How this was one of the busiest festivals your city hosted and how you hadn’t had time to relax since the festival began at three. He listened to you without making any input of his own, the occasional chuckle from hearing about entitled customers, or customers who thought buying a red rose for someone they were going to break up with was a bad idea. 

Cleaning up with Shouto with you was relaxing and welcoming, his presence was always one you received, and after a long day, it was sweet and soft. 

But while in his explanation as to who the lady — Yaoyorozu Momo, as he named her — was doing at his shop so late, your stomach wailed in hunger. Your face burned in embarrassment, your appetite finally remaking its appearance. 

Shouto chuckled, finding glee in your horror before nodding towards the hallway that leads to the staircase of your home. He had been up there a handful of times now, and he smirked, “I’ll make you something since we didn’t eat together today.”

“How can I trust you’re a good chef,” you ask, despite already making your way to the upper level of the shop, ready to stay up even longer with Shouto.

The next hour is spent with the two of you eating and talking. The conversation between the two of you is light and flowing smoothly. You’re on the couch with him, a blanket on your laps while you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Tell me about your tattoos,” you mumble, your exhausted body feeling warm and safe against his right side. 

“Which one?” he asked, shifting his left arm towards you so that way you could continue resting on him.

“Any,” you sigh, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “They’re all beautiful.”

So he does.

Shouto tells you about the special ones first. The fire on his left wrist, the ice on the right. They were his first tattoos, something he had associated with himself since he could remember, but a symbol of how they were both significant parts, equal in their fury, but gentle, beautiful, and healing when needed. He had dizzying patterns on his right side, something he had always acquitted to being his more assertive side. The designs were distinctive and almost dizzying to look at, but each pattern he had drawn, each twist and turn meaning something. The black ink was daunting, powerful, and reserved. He even admitted to letting his friends color in the spaces where you could still see his pale flesh, it was something that he enjoyed because even being as old as he was, the childlike entertainment never left when someone did it.

His left side was stunning though, every color in the rainbow melting and mixing on his skin. This side was artistic, bold, a creation of vibrant dreams, and they warmed you up while he explained every secret behind them. He was scary on this side if you couldn’t find the outlines of each clashing drawing, but up close, with your breath gently warming his skin while you peered at his skin, you realized just how gentle it really was. It wasn’t scary or overwhelming. It was quiet, warm, and a soft gesture to who he used to be, and who he was now.

The two of you were close friends, nothing could ever say otherwise, but as the two of you lay on the couch together, you positioned between his legs, your head laying on his chest. Sleep was a mere kiss away when you snuggled into his chest, your finger pressing against the t-shirt he wore.

“I think I’m ready… for you to draw me up a tattoo… do you think you can surprise me, though? I have no ideas…” you mumbled into his chest.

“Of course,” Shouto responded back, and before you could blink, the world turned dark, sleep consuming you in a gentle embrace. 

You weren’t sure if you imagined the feel of his soft lips on your forehead, but when you woke up the next morning, you were alone. The blanket was tucked around you, pillows resting under your head, and a flower sat on the coffee table before you.

A kaneshon.

A carnation.

Your cheeks warmed at the sight of it, knowing immediately that it was left behind by Shouto. Grabbing the flower within your fingers, you pressed the sweet-smelling flower to your nose. If he continued doing this, there was no stopping the way you felt towards him.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Five ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Two weeks later.

“So, what do you think of this?”

You were sitting in Shouto’s private room where he had his tattoo appointments, you were by the wall, sitting on a stool by a desk where he was showing off his tattoo design for you. It was stunning; honestly, it had everything in the world that you could be asking for.

Simple, elegant, and sophisticated.

It fit your personality, hopes, and dreams. 

It was perfect. 

“Wow,” you barely managed to breathe, your fingers touching the sketch he had presented to you. Was feeling it okay? You hoped so.

“Do you… do you like it?” Shouto asked, his eyes trying to read your face, but failed to see how you reacted because he was behind you.

“This is amazing, Todoroki,” you shake your head, pulling back to stare at your friend with a great smile. “I mean, I know I said I wanted you to draw me one, but I wasn’t expecting you to make it so… personalized to me.”

“...you’re special to me,” Shouto admitted, his body both relaxing and tensing under your gaze. “I had to make this special for you.”

“Well, you sure did!” you agree with a laugh, your cheeks warm with your grin. “But how much will this be?”

“4,000 yen,” Shouto answered with a straight face.

You laughed in his face, remembering that all their starting prices were much more than that, “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. How much?”

“I wasn’t lying,” Shouto confirms, his gaze unwavering. “I like you a lot, and you mean a lot to me, so I’m giving you a discount.”

Your jaw drops, you’re unable to speak, words failing you with every breath. “A discount, not a free tattoo.”

“It’s not free, I’m still making you pay.”

“Yeah, and even I know that price is absurd!”

The two of you argue for some time, the money you throw down on his desk is immediately slammed back into your wallet. You feel close to victory; that is, until Shouto threatens to make your tattoo actually free. To that, your lips twist, a defeated look in your eyes while you huff.

“Fine,” you spat, turning around ready to leave the shop, given that your break was nearing its end. 

“Y/n,” he calls out suddenly, and the way that your name sounds on his lips makes you shiver. He had started to call you by your given name as of late, and to hear his warm and deep voice say your name made you wonder why you two hadn’t done this earlier. After all, the two of you were too close. 

“Shouto?”

He looks ready to speak, his tongue wetting his lips while he stares at you, unsure what to say to what to do.

“What did you think of the kaneshon?”

Two weeks later and he had finally spoken about the flower he had left behind.

“It was beautiful, I loved it,” you smiled in return, but you didn’t miss the way that his eyes seemed to cloud at those words. Obviously, those weren’t the words he wanted to hear, but what was it that he wanted? “Another flower to add to my collection.”

Shouto’s lips quirk into a smile, and you watch while he reaches behind his bench and pulls out a tsubaki. You’re silent as he walks it over to you, pressing the gentle stem into your hand.

“For you,” he whispers, and you can feel your heart hammering in your ears at how close he is. The dim lights of his room, the smell of ink, bleach, and, most importantly, Shouto sending your blood into a craze. 

Kiss him, your brain told you, but you were frozen, too busy counting the number of eyelashes he had. 

“You didn’t buy this from me, what are you doing helping my competition?” were the words that came to your mouth instead of the confession you so wanted to give.

“No,” Shouto laughs softly, and he adjusts his position almost to give you dizzying fantasies of him kissing you. “I’m growing them, actually.”

“Oh, so you’re my competition,” you tease, and Shouto sighs, his eyes rolling and nods.

“Yeah, the tattoo shop was a decoy to us becoming the best flower shop in all of Japan.”

“Sounds like I should be worried.”

“Oh, you should.”

There was no denying the fact that the distance between your bartering lips was disappearing, but the shrill beep of your alarm destroyed the space between the two of you as you stepped away. You had an appointment to get to after all.

“Um, dinner?” you ask, stumbling to the door. “Sounds good?”

Shouto nods, his lips in a small smile, “See you then.”

With the camellia clenched tightly into your hands, your blood boiling in your destroyed passions, and the sounds of the others saying goodbye while you left, you felt weird when entering your flower shop, one thought running repetitively in your mind. 

You had feelings for Shouto.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Six ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You twirled the akaichurippu in your fingers.

It had been two months since you worked out you had feelings for Shouto, one week since he had given you this flower, six days since he started avoiding you, and two days since your parents had finally returned home.

With the three of you now running the shop, you were able to relax a whole bunch more. Your parents had returned on a honeymoon mode, their gazes wistful and in love, finding it almost hard to readjust to the life they had left behind for a year. It had been a year since you had met Todoroki Shouto, and you were baffling in love with him. But you had done something obviously because he was avoiding you like the plague.

He hadn’t been over in six days, and they had been such lonely days without him. Of course, once your parents had come home, it had been grossly lively with their romantic sighs and glees, but it didn’t do much to qualm the Shouto sized hole in you. 

Stupid Shouto, stupid feelings, stupid everything.

Tossing the flower onto the counter, you sat up from your slumped state, watching as your dad swung your mom in a circle. Stupid parents with their stupid love, you bitterly added while puffing out your cheeks.

“Wow, what’s that look for!” your dad caught on immediately, staring at your unamused form. He trailed his gaze down to the red akaichurippu, otherwise known as the red tulip, while your mother stood up herself.

There was a shocked gasp coming from them both, and you watched as your parents approached the counter like excited children, the flower being picked up by your mother.

“Who gave you this?!” your mother asked, her eyes sparkling in glee, and your dad seemed conflicted in the same delight, and distinctive stern dad look. 

“Shouto,” you sighed, your eyes rolling.

“The one that’s ignoring you?”

“The very same!”

“That’s strange,” your dad’s eyebrows furrowed, his head tilting. “He’s just next door, and he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon… why is he ignoring you after giving you the eternal love flower?”

You froze.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“The red akaichurippu flower is the symbol of eternal love,” your mom explained as if it was basic knowledge. “They’re much more romantic than a boring red rose, in my opinion. You’re also a florist y/n, why don’t you know these meanings or intentions?”

“Oh my god,” you said in horror, and you stood up, racing upstairs to grab the flowers you had dried and pressed. The flowers he had given you throughout this year.

Your parents were shocked when you slammed down the book with flowers, your fingers shaking excessively.

“What do these mean,” you demand, your fingers shaking while you point at the different flowers.

“Ajisai: apologies and gratitude.”

“Himawari: adoration, loyalty, and longevity.”

“Arusutoromeria: devotion, loyalty, ‘I like you,’ friendship.”

“Pink kaneshon: affection.”

“Tsubaki: humility, discretion, and perfect love.”

Red akaichurippu: eternal love.

Red akaichurippu: eternal love.

“I have to go!” you yelled, racing out of the store, the ringing bell and following shouts of your parents doing nothing as you ran into the tattoo shop.

“Shinsou!” you called at the purple-haired man who was staffing the front desk, obviously having no scheduled appointments today. “Is Shouto—?”

“No, he’s taking his break right now,” Shinsou smirked, his eyes full of amusement, which spoke to his knowledge of what was going on. “You can go in.”

You smiled and went down the hallways of the tattoo shop that you knew intimately. You could hear the buzzing of the tattoo guns going off in Bakugou and Midoriya’s rooms, the light chatter that came with passing Kaminari’s room until you made it to Shouto’s room.

It was quiet inside, and as you opened the door to step inside, the flower in your hand feeling heavier than lead when you saw Shouto sitting at his desk, eating cold soba slowly.

“Shouto?” you called, and Shouto didn’t move, obviously ignoring you. 

“Come on, don’t ignore me,” you plead, moving towards the bench only to have him turn towards you, his eyes blank, cold, angry, and burning through you when he faced you. So maybe he wasn’t ignoring you? “Okay, uh, thank you for looking at me, but I need to explain something to you!”

“Make it quick, my break’s done in two minutes.”

A cold sweat erupts in your body, and you thrust the red tulip out.

“Eternal love,” you say quickly, your body shivering at that statement, and Shouto looks at you, then at the flower, then back at you. 

“Yeah, I knew that already, idiot.”

Your jaw drops, and the smallest bits of annoyance pricks at you. You often forgot what it was like to be under his calculating words and not being at his side, laughing at the victims of his words. 

“Okay, well, I didn’t,” you continue on, your fists dropping at your side, annoyance, fear, happiness, and love flooding through your body. “I’m a florist, I know that. I have lived my life as the child of florists, and I have taken on their trade, but one thing I never knew about was flower meanings.”

“What?”

You shake your head, your gaze dropping to the flower in your embarrassment, “I’ve never known any flower meaning outside of funeral flowers, the red rose, and spider lilies, but that’s because of the culture behind it, not necessarily because of the language of flowers. And I was mad at you today, so I had this flower out, and my parents who do know about flower language told me what this meant, and every other flower you’ve bought for me… I didn’t realize you were confessing to me using flowers… I didn’t ever expect a tattoo artist to know the meanings! Had you been a florist yourself, then maybe I would have thought to look up the meanings behind the flowers, but I just assumed it was you picking flowers out because they were pretty.”

“Flower tattoos are popular,” Shouto breathes, his eyes swimming with flashing emotions while he rises to his feet. “It’s sort of my job to know the difference. I mean… you brought over peonies that first night, and they’re a flower you use to welcome other people, so I figured you knew.”

“No,” you laugh breathlessly. “I only picked those out because they were the only flowers I had leftover from that day… I guess you would make an amazing florist after all,” you chuckle, your heart hammering in your whole being while he stepped closer to you. “I’m a blunt person, straightforward confessions are the only way to deal with me.”

“Most blunt confessions have always ended with rejection from me,” Shouto states, his fingers grabbing onto your waist. “That tends to scare people off.”

“Try it with me,” you whisper, your fingers resting on his broad shoulders, the shiver under your skin electrifying as you knew what was happening.

“I’m in love with you, y/l/n y/n,” Shouto grinned, and you didn’t give yourself a chance at responding because you slammed your lips against his.

It was a passionate kiss, one that had your back arched into him, the flower falling from your fingers and onto the floor. Heads tilted with your dancing lips, and fuck was every gentle caress of his lips, sending your mind in a whirl.

More and more, your lips slanted against each other, and there was no say as to what was going to happen next. You pulled away, a galaxy in both your eyes and a desire, a promise for more when he would meet your lips again.

“Shouto, your three o’clock is here!”

The two of you froze, and you laughed, your lips meeting his that sought after yours for the kiss was too short.

“We’ll talk later.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki shoto x reader

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #452

“what i’ve felt, what i’ve known, never shined doing what i’ve shown  /  never free, never me, so i dub thee unforgiven”

Are you a part of the LGBTQ+ community? I am. Do you have Tiktok? Are you addicted? I don't. Do you enjoy being outside? IF it's cool outside, yes. Do you like being around kids? No, not really. Have you ever gotten Covid-19? No. What's your ethnicity? Caucasian. If you were president, what's the first change you would make? I'd probably put in place free healthcare first. What is an animal that you'd like to have as a pet but it's not allowed? If an animal shouldn't be a pet, there's a reason. So none. What was your favorite meal as as kid? Has it changed now? It was spaghetti. I still love it, but it's not my favorite now. Which doctor is your least favorite? Primary, eye, dentist, gynecologist, etc. Potential TMI answer follows. So, the VERY easy answer is gynecologist. Like, I've never even BEEN to one because I'm too scared. Not because I think they'll find anything wrong, but because I'm just very self-conscious about stuff like that and I do fucking not want some random stranger laying a goddamn finger on me like that. My doctor is really pushing me to go by now though as a safety precaution, but I just really, really don't want to. Do you feel that you'd be any good at solving a murder? No. I'm so clueless. You own a dragon, but it doesn't breathe fire; what comes out instead? Water, I guess? That could be beneficial in a lot of ways. Have you ever been sprayed by a giant rain puddle when a car passed by? No. Do you remember the last movie you saw while on a date? Yeah, IT with Girt. What color is your iPod? Hot pink. Do you think baby clothes are adorable? Ha ha yeah, I just tend to like miniature things in general, and babies are just... miniature humans lmao. Whose house did you last sleep over at? Sara's. If you could adopt 3 unique pets, what would you get? A plains hognose morph (probably a lavender, or snow?), a Brazilian black tarantula, andddd... an African fat-tailed gecko morph. What grade are you in, if you’re still in school? I'm not in school. Do you get a lot of tourists in the area where you live? Hell no, there's not shit here. Do you enjoy watching vlogs? Only occasionally by certain people I like. What was the last new video game you were excited about? It really sucks I don't have the appropriate console to play it myself, but I was SUPER stoked for Resident Evil 8: Village to be released and literally watched like four different playthroughs at the same time, ha ha. Have you ever talked about your period with a guy? Were they okay with it, or grossed out? In a three-and-a-half years intimate relationship, it obviously came up before. He didn't care, because he wasn't 12. Have you ever been to small church/bible group/study? Forced to or wanted to? I was forced to go to Sunday school, as well as church. Have you ever been to an Asian (any type) market? If so, what is the closest one to you? I've never seen one here, even. How would you feel if your significant other had tattoos? That'd be a bonus to how physically attracted I was to them, probably, lol. I just love tattoos. Where was the last place on your body that you felt physical pain? My uterus is screaming. :') What are you listening to right now? I am fucking unhealthily obsessed with Violet Orlandi & Skar's cover of "The Unforgiven" by Metallica lkasdjkflawjerwr like I will not stop listening to it lol. Last person you texted? My mom. Have you ever gone out of your way to make someone happy? Yes. Is there a certain person that makes you feel safe? My mom. Have you ever used a chainsaw? Nooo, and I don't want to. Do you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa? crihmuh Ever been so stunned, no words came out? Oh yes. Ever written that you were going to end your life? I have. I was fucking stupid and made a suicide note on Facebook. I genuinely wanted everyone on there to know what they meant to me, so like it seriously wasn't for attention, which I still worry people think that. Ever put fake bugs around your house to scare someone? Not to scare people, no. I have two faux tarantulas in my room as decor, though. Is there a reason you have the name you do? Not particularly. My parents just liked it, ig. Choose: the best song by Green Day? Aw, that's way too hard! I love Green Day. I guess if I absolutely had to pick, maybe "21 Guns." It's just a truly beautiful song. Have you ever tried to “save”, or “fix” someone, before? No. I don't believe that works and only damages you. Were ethics discovered or invented? That's a good question. I really can't say I know. Do you put effort into getting tan during the summer? Nah. Are you a fairly self-motivated person? NO. I need external motivation pretty badly. Be honest, does the person you like actually deserve you? Or are they actually not worthy of your affections? I don't deserve him. List 5 things that have been on your mind most recently. 1.) wtf I feel about Girt and wtf to do about it; 2.) my weight; 3.) what job I'm going to search for once I make progress at the gym; 4.) whether or not to quit photography and focus my efforts elsewhere; and 5.), as always, Jason. What is better, history or science? Science is way more interesting. Do you flinch at the sight of blood? No. Do you enjoy swimming? Yeah. When you swear, is it usually in general or directed at someone? In general. I don't generally swear at people. Are any of your friends hoping to be famous one day? Yeah; I've got a couple of musician friends. Who would you kiss right now if you could kiss anyone? GO AWAY Ever slapped a guy in the face? No. I don't hit people. Do you think you’re a good friend? I sure try to be. Have you ever thrown your cell phone in anger? When? I have on only one occasion when I Jason and I were texting and he pissed me off. I don't remember what we were even talking about now. My phone was fine btw, ha ha, I didn't like, chuck it. What color of hair do you find the sexiest on the opposite gender? Out of the natural hair colors, black. But I really like hair that's dyed exotic colors on like... anyone. Have you slept over at a member of the opposite sex’s house in their bed? Yeah. When you lost your virginity, were you sober? Yeah. Have you ever given your phone number to somebody you met online? Quite a few people, actually. Most of my friendships are online. On average, how much does gas cost where you live? When I was out today, it was $2.99. Why are you happy? Who said I was? I'm not happy. What is in your pocket? Nothing. What was the worst feeling you last felt? Severe indecision. Worthlessness. Yesterday had some grim periods. What would you name your future son? I always answer with the first name, "Damien," so let's see about a middle name... uhhhh... maybe Damien James? I'm not really sure about a middle name, but that sounds nice. What are you waiting for? Girt to message me back. He barely touches Facebook, so I can't blame him, but I wanna plan a day for him to visit and we can hang and I can decide what the fuck it is I feel towards him. What takes your breath away? Big waterfalls, to name a major one. What fact of life would you rather not know about? That the world doesn't give a fuck about you. It sounds super pessimistic, I know, but it doesn't. There is no sentience to it, no will to keep you safe and happy, it just... exists, and we're thrown onto it to figure it out. Unfair things happen. That's life. ... Damn, this answer was dark lol. What’re a few things that automatically make you go, “Awww?” Meerkat pups doing so much as blinking, guys being really cute with kids, seeing elderly couples holding hands and just generally being precious, proposals (especially gay ones just because of how hard that was fought for), seeing literally any picture in existence of Mark and Amy together, veterans coming home and their dogs freaking out... Man, a lot of things. This question brightened my mood to think about. :') Are you easily scared by horror movies? Nah. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Illinois to visit Sara. :') I really wanna hang. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? No, but a former best friend had her bday a day before mine. Are you wearing a ring? I always wear two. Do you hate to hug people? No, I love hugs. How many rooms does your house consist of? Seven. If you could be on any TV show, which would it be and why? Can I be a Pokemon trainer, pls???? What would you want to be famous for? Most ideally, a great wildlife photographer. The kind photography students would see and be inspired by. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No, I sleep with a real animal, ha ha. What is your favorite brand of hairspray? I don’t have one. What is in your backyard? Not very much... I'm barely ever even out there, so I barely know. There's one shed, a small tree, and uh... idk. Who is/was your favorite teacher? I have a few. Mrs. Whitley, Mr. Proctor, Coach Collie, and Miss Tobey are some. What’s your favorite non-sexual thing to do with a girl/boy? Play video games together. Do you cheer for the bad guy? Ha, I have a tendency to do that... Would you rather start a new career or a new relationship? Career. I want one so very badly. Something on the human body that grossest you out the most: So even though I am sexually attracted to any gender, nevertheless, genitalia gross me the fuck out. Either kind. Penises especially though like what the fuck- Do you think it’s easier to raise a boy a girl? Why? From most parents, I've heard boys are much easier because girls (supposedly) tend to have more of an attitude. What is your favorite strawberry flavored food? Strawberry is generally my favorite flavor for like, everything, so this is just about impossible. Maybe uhhh slushies? What is the oldest video game system you’ve played? An Atari.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''the unforgiven'' by metallica

[jeonggukingdom]

splinters of love • day XIII [kth]

pairing  ⟶ kim taehyung x fem!Reader

summary  ⟶ a collection of drabbles (one for each day of April) based on prompts by an online prompts’ generator site. Specifically  ⟶  • day XIII ↳ in which you and Taehyung have split up but you bought Yeontan together and neither of you wants to part ways with it so you decide to alternate days to take care of him which turns up meaning you have to frequently see each other and well, maybe the feelings weren’t as dead as you both thought they were.

genre  ⟶ angst, fluff

rating  ⟶ G

word count ⟶ 1.625 words

warnings  ⟶ none really but it does tug a little on your heartstrings so, beware of that I guess lol

series masterlist  ⟶ here  (links on mobile may not work, if you’re looking for all the works in this series, you can click on the “!splintersoflove” tag and you’ll find them all there!)

Yeontan barks happily, wiggling his tail left and right at the sight of Taehyung and his box smile—the one you fell in love with.

You cant’ help but smile as he crouches down, open his arms and welcomes the small dog in a little embrace that owns him enough kisses on the nose to make him giggle.

The sight is precious, sweet and it warms your heart in ways you didn’t think possible anymore.

Ever since you decided to break up, you have been seeing each other once a week to drop Yeontan to each other’s care and though it wasn’t easy at first, it has now become something akin to a routine and surprisingly, it has stopped hurting as much as it did in the beginning.

This time it is different. Taehyung has been out of the country for three entire weeks due to work and that means that Yeontan has been with you all this time, missing his other owner like crazy.

Even though it still pains you to get separated from your dog, on this occasion you are happy that he gets to see Taehyung again. After all, Yeontan loves the both of you equally and this agreement you have going on between the two of you is not only out of selfishness for yourselves but also for his well-being.

You smile as Taehyung lifts his gaze on you, his eyes shining with true happiness as Yeontan keeps licking his face excitedly as if he hadn’t seen him in years. In a way, you suspect that to be true under a dog’s prespective.

“He missed you so much,” you say as Taehyung picks Yeontan up to stand on his feet and finally face you properly.

You notice immediately the tan on his already golden skin—hell, he seems to glow under the sunlight as if he were made out of true, pure gold.

His hair seems longer, curlier as it partially covers his onyx eyes. He looks stunning as always, if not even better.

Your heart loses a beat as you stare at him and immediately doubt twists your insides. 

“Ah, I missed him too, so damn much!” Taehyung says before kissing the top of his little head, smiling at him as if he could understand his every word.

You chuckle at the sweet sight and Taehyung’s eyes switch back on you and you do not fail to notice how the warmth in them remains the same—something you were rather used to—while at first, it would completely disappear when looking down at you.

You didn’t have a terrible break-up but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt the both of you. After five years together, living under the same roof, it was hard to admit that you didn’t love each other anymore, that your relationship could not keep going like that when you were both clearly unhappy in it.

He clears his throat, shaking you from your thoughts and the smile on his lips turns sheepish as he keeps looking at you, taking in every little detail of your face.

“Would you like to come in?”

The question surprises you. He has never offered before and, why would he, honestly?

All those months apart, you hadn’t set a single foot inside his new house just as much as he didn’t come in your once-shared apartment any longer.

Usually, you would have declined the invitation, turned on your heels and just kept going with your usual plans but, today it feels different.

Well, it has been feeling different for a while now, even though you haven’t been completely honest with yourself by admitting it.

Somewhere down the line, you started missing him.

So you nod your head yes before you can stop yourself and then, you follow him inside his apartment before you can register completely what you are doing.

His apartment is nice, simple but warm and it makes you smile because it is so like him. It’s not like the apartment you shared together that was a fine mixture of both of your characters and tastes.

This is purely Taehyung and it’s beautiful. The ambient is full of things you’re already familiar with, full of pictures—and surprisingly, some have even you in it amongst a group of friends you both share—and full of his scent.

It’s so familiar it makes your heart ache in your chest and so the uneasiness inside of you grows.

You barely notice Taehyung speaking, Yeontan barking and running around the house as he gets acquainted back to the apartment.

“Hey, are you ok?”

Taehyung is in your line of view now, so close you can actually smell his cologne and it is so overwhelming you almost stop breathing right then and there.

You would love to say yes, to keep going as if nothing happened but you can’t because now, seeing him after those weeks and having him this close after those many months apart, it is impossible to lie to yourself again.

You’re still in love with him.

You take in a sharp breath as Taehyung’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder, his entire face morphing into a worried expression that you cannot tolerate for a single second more. So you take a step back, away from his grasp, his cologne, his everything.

“This was a mistake,” you push out of your mouth in a broken whimper that has goosebumps gathering on your flesh.

You turn around, you don’t wait to see the stupor on his features, you don’t wait for him to retort something, hell, you don’t even say bye to Yeontan as you usually would.

You practically run out of his apartment and well, you almost do run as the fresh air of the evening hits your face but suddenly there is a hand around your wrist, tugging on it until you come to a halt and turn around to face him.

Taehyung is right there, his mouth agape, his eyes big as they stare at you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asks, almost breathless and you shake your head no because of course, he didn’t, but you almost wish you could tell him that yes, he has said and done so many wrong things you can’t stand the sight of him a second longer. But that would be a lie, and a horrific one at that.

“No,” you reply, not trusting yourself to add more to it without opening up your heart to him.

This is wrong. You are not together anymore and for a reason and you can’t do this to him—or even to yourself, for that matter.

“Then talk to me,” he says and suddenly he is cupping your cheeks and you are staring inside his beautiful eyes and it’s too much, so damn much.

Tears gather in your eyes, they cloud your vision and strangle you from within and you can’t believe you are breaking like this in front of him, allowing him to see through all the cracks and peer inside at your naked soul, the very one he used to hold in the palm of his hands so easily and with so much care.

“I still love you,” the words leave your mouth in a whisper that breaks you apart. Yet, it’s also somewhat of a relief because the heavy stone that was sitting on your heart all this time, is suddenly gone.

What is it that they say? With truth comes liberation.

You hear Taehyung take in a sharp breath and your eyes close as you brace yourself for the inevitable moment he is going to let go of you as if you were the scorching sun, turn back on his heels and close the door to his apartment. As he should, after all.

You have no right to be saying this, not after all you’ve been through, but yet you have said it and it is the utter, bitter truth and you can’t take it back now, gulp it down and push it down your guts as you’ve been doing for weeks.

Your heart skips a beat.

And then another.

And then it is beating frantically against your ribcage, making you dizzy.

Your knees buckle but his hands are wrapped around your hips tightly enough to keep you standing, locked in place as he crashes his lips on top of yours. Your mouth opens with a soft sigh that he avidly gulps down as he pulls you into him.

You lose yourself inside the kiss, you wrap your arms around his neck, pull him into you, fingers lost in the curly locks of his hair and… you feel whole again.

Tears stream down your cheeks as he keeps kissing you like this, in the middle of the street.

It feels like a homecoming.

And then you are both laughing, caressing each other’s faces, shaking your heads, stealing kisses from each other as you used to do when you were still together.

You missed this. All of this, all of him. So damn much. And you hadn’t even realized it.

Yeontan’s bark is what wakes you both from your stupor, bringing you back to reality.

Your hands find each other naturally as you walk into Taehyung’s apartment one more but this time with genuine smiles and weightless hearts.

“Hey buddy,” Taehyung says as he crouches down in front of your dog to scratch his favourite spot behind his ear, “Looks like mom and daddy are back together.”

You smile at that, interlace your fingers with his and as Yeontan excitedly barks at the both of you, you chuckle and join the both of them on the floor.

A new beginning.

Copyright © 2020 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved. Do not repost, do not steal, do not translate without consent.

#thekimlinenet #btsghostie #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #taehyung x read #bts ff #bts scenario #bts imagine #!splintersoflove

[mamabearcatfanfics]

More Than Words - One

“Please, please, please, please, please Kagome!”

She looked up from her laptop to roll her eyes at the dark haired man leaning over her desk, his violet eyes beseeching, hands together as if in prayer.

“You would think by now Miroku, that you of all people would know that when a lady says no, she means no”, she said dryly, dropping her attention back to the computer screen in front of her. It was boring work, but if everything wasn’t just so, the tender documents could be rejected, and she really didn’t want to open that can of worms with her project manager.

“But Kagome”, he continued pleading. “She’s amazing, gorgeous, an angel!” His eyes misted over as he gazed off into the middle distance. “I think it’s her. I think I’ve finally found the love of my life.” Kagome snorted, and his eyes flicked back to hers. “You don’t believe me?” he said with a wounded expression.

“Miroku”, Kagome sighed, “you probably spoke to her for a maximum of what, two minutes, tops? And that was to order coffee. How is this girl any different from the temp secretary you took out on a date after the office Christmas party three weeks ago? Or that girl you abandoned me for last Friday night when we went out to karaoke? I’m not going to hound some poor woman minding her own business into giving you her number just because you have the unfortunate habit of falling for every pretty face you see!”

Miroku shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. This was different. When my fingers touched hers, it was, like, I don’t know, a spiritual connection.” He sighed, leaning against Kagome’s desk, his hand over his heart. “She owns me, body and soul.”

“Oh my god Miroku,” Kagome chortled, pushing his hip off her desk. “If you were any cheesier I’d need to run out and buy wine and crackers! You do realise that you sound like someone out of one of those trashy romance movies on daytime TV? Next you’ll be writing sonnets and saying you were struck by Cupid’s arrow.” She got up from her desk to move over to the filing cabinet, rifling through the files. “I still don’t see why I need to be involved anyway - just ask her for her number herself if you’re so desperate!”

Miroku sighed, hanging his head despondently. “I’ve been banned. By her guard dog.” Kagome looked at him questioningly. “The barista.”

“You got banned from a café by the barista? What on earth did you do!?” She held up her hands, the file in them covering her view of Miroku as he opened his mouth to explain. “No, don’t tell me, on second thoughts, I don’t want to know!”

“Kagome, I’m begging you! Just talk to her. If she doesn’t want to give her number to me, I’ll admit defeat. I just need to know! What if I did all your filing for the next week?”

Kagome shook her head. “No way! I’ve only just got all my files back in order from when you meddled with my stuff when I was on leave.”

“I’ll walk your dog.”

“I have a cat.”

“I’ll do your tax return for you.”

“I’d like to stay out of prison, thanks very much.”

“I’ll, I’ll… “ Miroku looked around the office, as if searching for inspiration, his eyes alighting on Kagome’s much loved pink coffee cup, sitting empty and forlorn on her desk. “I’ll buy you coffee for the next month!”

Kagome stared him. “You’re offering to buy me coffee for a whole month?” He nodded. “And this is whether she gives me her number or not?” Miroku nodded again. Kagome bumped the filing cabinet drawer shut with her hip, then placed the folders on her desk, turning back to him with a gleeful expression on her face.

Miroku’s face fell when he realised exactly how much that this might cost him in monetary terms. Kagome loved her coffee; she was rarely seen without her favourite coffee mug in her hand. And she did a lot of overtime, often working back late at the office, weekends too when a tender was due.

Kagome grinned even wider and slapped him on the shoulder. “Miroku, my lovestruck friend, you’ve got yourself a deal!”

 ☕💘☕

 Kagome walked towards the tiny hole in the wall coffee shop a few blocks away from the office. It was literally only a door and a window wide, the exterior painted in matte black, with a white awning shading the customers waiting outside in the hot Australian summer sun. The business name adorned the glass window, a simple red circle with black text in a strong block font - Black Dog Coffee.

There was a line of people heading out the door waiting patiently, some chatting quietly, but most looking down at their phones. As she got further forward in the line, she was amused to notice that everyone followed the same pattern – a step towards the woman taking orders, stating their name and order and paying, then two steps to the left while they waited for their coffee. The woman at the cash register didn’t take another order until the first one had been filled, yet no one complained. That was kind of odd, but the line was moving fairly swiftly, so she guessed it worked, even though it wasn’t how cafés usually took their coffee orders. It was hard to see what was going on from her position in the line, stuck behind a tall guy in a business suit. She decided to look up reviews for the coffee shop online while she was waiting.

‘This coffee is the absolute bomb, but don’t piss off the barista!’

‘Was recommended to me by a friend. Coffee is amazing.’

‘Kinda weird. They only sell coffee, roast their own beans I think. The barista is something else!’

‘Would wait in line all day for this coffee!!’

‘Worst experience ever. Got BANNED because I tried to order more than five things. And they have no food, just coffee. WTF! Pretty sure the barista was in the yakuza – that guy has tatts for days! 0/10 would recommend.’

‘Follow the ordering protocol and you’ll be sweet – best coffee in the downtown financial district.’

‘OMG – best coffee EVER! I’m now a daily customer.’

Hmmm. She tried to peer around the tall guy in front of her, but she couldn’t see anything; the afternoon sun was reflecting off the glass covered office building nearby, getting in her eyes and making her squint. She fanned her face with her hand. Man it was hot. You could fry an egg out here on the cement. She hoped the coffee was worth the freckles she was probably getting on her nose right now. The tall guy stepped forward to make his order, and she caught a glimpse of the woman behind the cash register.  

Long glossy brown hair with thick bangs, and a bright smile. Her brown eyes, highlighted by bright pink eyeshadow, sparkled with warmth; she was giving her total attention to the current person she was engaging with. She wasn’t much taller than Kagome herself and the tight black t-shirt she was wearing with the name Sango embroidered on the pocket accentuated her generous curves.

Kagome sighed. Miroku was nothing if not predictable – he loved curvy ladies. But how was she going to ask for this woman’s number without causing a disruption – everyone seemed to be on board with the ordering system, and if the coffee was as good as the reviews promised there was no way she was going to get herself banned from coming back.

She glanced down to the time on her phone, and then to the opening hours printed on the tiny shop window. It was almost closing time. Maybe if she hung back for a little while and caught the woman after they’d shut up shop? She groaned internally, trying not to think of the work still waiting for her on her desk. She should have held out for two months of coffee.

The tall man stepped to the side. Crap, she needed to order.

“Good afternoon ma’am. What would you like?” The woman’s smile was wide and welcoming.

“Uh, a large latte please, no sugar”, Kagome said, holding up her credit card ready to tap payment.

“Name please?”

“Kagome. That’s K – A…”

“That’s okay, I know how to spell it.” Kagome watched with interest as the woman wrote her name on the coffee lid in curving characters. Was that hirigana? She vaguely recognised it was her name being written from the two terms of Japanese she did in high school. A grunt came from her left, and she realised with a little start that she was meant to move to one side.

She stood in front of the gleaming commercial espresso machine, eyes closing as she savoured the rich coffee aroma. It smelt amazing, rich and full. Not burnt. It was a little hard to see the barista; her view was blocked by towers of takeaway coffee cups in various sizes. But those reviews that mentioned him had made her curious now. She stepped to the side a little more. Ah, there he was.

He was taller than her - she guessed she’d come up to just above his shoulder, but then she wasn’t exactly tall herself at 5’2”. He had long dark hair, looped back in a low ponytail, with a choppy fringe and slightly longer forelocks  on either side of his face, tanned skin that was complemented by the white collarless t-shirt he wore under a denim apron. His expression as he looked downward to make the coffee was stern, but she didn’t see what he had to be so grumpy about. Maybe he was just hot? Maybe he just took his job very seriously? He moved out from behind the coffee machine and her eyes widened at the sight of his forearms, revealed by the shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. They were covered in tattoos from the wrist; dark sleeves of swirling black water flowing up his arms, broken only by pink and red cherry blossoms, with a hint of green and yellow. Then he looked up.

His eyes. They were hazel, for want of a better description, but such a light hazel that they almost looked golden. With the late afternoon sun behind her, lighting his face, they almost sparkled like citrine quartz. He placed the lid on her coffee, then set it down in front of her.

“Kagome.”

He’d pronounced her name right. Ka-goh-meh. She was so used to the way most Australians butchered her Japanese name, a way for her parents to honour her Japanese grandfather, that she was immune to its mispronunciation, but he’d said it just right. Just. Right. His voice was deep and a little husky. He made that small grunting noise in the back of his throat again, his strong dark brows lowering a little, and she realised in embarrassment that she was staring at him.

“Uh, yes, I’m sorry, yeah that’s me! I’m Kagome.” Idiot. Of course he knew that, it’s not like there was anyone else standing right in front of him waiting! She reached out for her coffee where he’d placed it on the edge of the counter, and then backed away, pink cheeked, as another person stepped to the side to wait for their coffee.

She moved to stand in front of the shop next door, taking out her phone for something to do while she waited for closing time, slowly sipping her coffee, which was glorious by the way. But she couldn’t give herself over fully to her enjoyment of the taste, unable to control her wandering eyes.

‘Oh my god, he’s gorgeous! I’ve never seen anyone with eyes that colour before. And that’s so much ink on his arms - that must have hurt like a bitch! I never would have picked that a guy would get cherry blossom sleeves, but they don’t look girly on him at all - the exact opposite really. I wonder if they go all the way up his arms? God, now I’m imagining him with his shirt off - bad girl, Kagome! Maybe the cherry blossoms are a cultural thing? I think he’s Japanese, and I’m pretty sure that’s my name in hirigana on the coffee lid, but I don’t want to make an assumption just based on that and his looks. I wonder what he’s thinking about? He doesn’t look unhappy or angry exactly, just… determined? Maybe he just has resting bitch face.’ She snorted a little at that thought, then sighed. ‘His movements are so graceful and fluid, it’s like watching someone do tai chi or something. Oh, he has such nice hands - strong fingers. I could watch him make coffee aaaaall day.’

She gazed dreamily, sipping at her coffee slowly, the phone in her hand forgotten. Golden eyes suddenly met hers, one eyebrow raised in a puzzled expression. ‘Oh shit, he’s looking this way. He’s noticed that I’m looking at him. Abort! Abort! Oh fuck… This is all your fault Miroku!’

She turned tail and fled, almost running back to the office. The reviews had been right. The hot coffee was amazing, but the hot barista? Yeah, he was definitely something else. She knew she would be back first thing in the morning to get another coffee. And it wasn’t just because the coffee was amazing and that he was beautiful to look at. There was something about him. She wanted to get to know him better.

Miroku was waiting for her out the front of their office building. “So, did you get it?” he asked eagerly.

“What?”

“Did you get her number. Sango’s number?”

“Uh…” Shit. She’d been so flustered when he had suddenly looked up and met her gaze that she’d turned tail and fled without remembering why she was waiting there in the first place. Damn. Heat washed across her cheeks, and she flicked her gaze away from Miroku’s.

“Our calm and collected Kagome blushing? Oh, there must be a good story behind this – do tell!”

“No story. You’ve ordered coffee from there before – I didn’t want to do anything to upset the system and get banned like you did! There just wasn’t an opportunity today – I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Miroku poked her in the ribs. “But surely that wouldn’t make you blush Kags! C’mon, spill.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” she spluttered.

Suddenly Miroku burst out laughing. “Oh ho ho, I get it. You were so busy perving at the guard dog making the coffee that you forgot what you were there for.”

“Shut. Up.”

Miroku grinned at her. “Aw, little Kagome finally got a crush on someone. Were you struck by Cupid’s arrow?” he teased, throwing the phrase she’d used before back at her with a note of triumph in his voice. Kagome squirmed under his knowing gaze, and he chuckled. “Looks like Cupid’s been pretty busy with his arrows around that coffee shop, huh?”

Kagome made a growling noise in the back of her throat, then the corners of her lips curled up in a knowing smile. She blinked at him innocently, raising her takeaway cup.

“You may be right Miroku. You may be right. And I’m thinking the best way to get to know him will be to buy coffee. Lots of coffee. I hope you’re ready to pay up, buddy!” She sipped her coffee and patted him on his suddenly slumping shoulders as she walked past him into the foyer of the building and back to her desk full of filing, savouring every last drop.

  ☕💘☕

 Inuyasha pondered as he polished the already gleaming coffee maker. Sango had just left for the day, after balancing the till, and he was doing a final clean up, ensuring everything would be ready for 7am opening.

That girl. Kagome. She’d been staring at him. Usually that made him feel intensely uncomfortable. Growing up in an orphanage had internalised that being stared at was a bad thing, because pain caused by kids much larger and stronger than him usually followed close behind. That was until he’d been there so long that he was the large and strong one, handing out punches to anyone picking on the tiny ones. But he hadn’t got that uncomfortable feeling from her when she’d stared.

He knew he was considered attractive by some people. But her looking at him hadn’t given him that slimy creepy feeling that being ogled purely for looks gave him either. She had looked at him like he was a puzzle she wanted to work out.

He tried to picture her in his mind’s eye, but all he really remembered was dark shining hair like a corvid’s wing, and very blue eyes. She’d been small too, very petite. He rolled her name around in his head, as it tugged on a memory, and he suddenly thought of the rhyming game from his childhood about a bird caught in a cage. It was fitting – her mannerisms reminded him of a little bird - a wren, with bright inquisitive eyes. And when he’d looked up at her and caught her staring, she’d flapped her wings in fright and flown away. He chuckled. He hoped she wasn’t caught in a cage of some sort. No one deserved that.

He shut off the lights to the tiny shop, and walked into the studio behind it, flopping down on his bed with his laptop, ready to spend another evening struggling through his online English class. A little orange fluffball of a kitten jumped on to his lap, trying to sit on the keys, and he pushed it off.

“Shippou! Dame!”

The kitten settled down next to his thigh, snuggling against him and purring, and he turned his attention back to the screen. It was hard, learning a language this way, but he was determined. He had escaped his own cage, and he was never going back.

☕💘☕

PART TWO

#Bearpluscat fanfics #inukag fanfic #inukag modern au #inukag coffee shop au #I'll be posting every couple of days in the lead up to White Day!

[sweetsmellosuccess]

TIFF 2020: Days 1 & 2

Films: 5 Best Film of the Day(s): One Night in Miami

One Night in Miami…: I guess you could form an argument that basing a film on a pre-existing play would make the feature easier to put together, but that wouldn’t be taking into account the tremendous differences between the mediums, their relative strengths and weaknesses. For her feature debut, the Oscar-winning actress Regina King has cinematically adapted the stage play  by Kemp Powers about a fictionalized fateful night amongst four famous Black men in 1964. Those men, Malcolm X (Kingsley Ben-Adir), Jim Brown (Aldis Hodge), Sam Cooke (Leslie Odom Jr.), and Cassius Clay (Eli Goree), are all in town ostensibly to celebrate Clay’s beatdown of Sonny Liston to first become the heavyweight champion of the world at the tender age of 22. But the film puts them all together in Malcolm X’s modest hotel room, watched over by Nation of Islam security men, to spend a night, essentially, debating the merits of what they bring to the struggle for Black equality and economic emancipation, and arguing back and forth about their distinct positions. Here is precisely where many play adaptations falter, without the dramatic friction of a live performance to power the emotional core, such conventions generally fall flat on the screen, but King’s virtuoso acting instincts serve her able cast well, and her work with DP Tami Reiker allows the film to flow, seemingly organically between its few location movements. Working from a skilled script by Powers, the celebrated figures feel three dimensional, which gives even their more didactic diatribes (Malcolm), and pithy rebuttals (Cooke) enough weight to avoid sounding contrived. The cast work wonders on the material, granting a needed organic vibe to their nonfiction characters, echoing the essences without tipping into caricature. It’s a strong debut for King, and the film’s complex ruminations on the responsibility of successful Black people towards their community as a means of bringing attention to the country’s oppression couldn’t be more on point. At one point Clay tells Cooke the four of them will always remain friends, because they are among the few who can possibly understand what it’s like to be “young, Black, famous, righteous, and unapologetic.”

Shiva Baby: Danielle (Rachel Sennott) is in the midst of having a day. Turns out Max (Danny Deferrari), the sugar daddy with whom she has frequently been visiting as part of her regular prostitution gig, is somehow a friend or cousin of the deceased at the same Shiva she has come to attend with her well-meaning, but completely overwhelming parents (Polly Draper and Fred Melamed). If that weren’t enough in Emma Seligman’s spry comedy, Danielle is also horrified to find Maya (Molly Gordon), a successful young woman she’s known for years, and a recent ex, also there. Crammed into the Shiva house, full of cousins and aunts and uncles all kvetching about everyone else, and being physically grabbed and moved about by her mother, Danielle faces this house of horrors, with everyone commenting concernedly on her weight-loss (“You look like Gwyneth Paltrow  —  on food stamps!” her mother hisses at her), and her lack of job prospects when she graduates, and her parents telling scathingly embarrassing stories about her in front of Max and his shiksa wife (Dianna Argon), whose 18-month-old baby, her mom says is “freakishly pale  —  and no nose,” with no respite in sight. As a result of this sort of hyper-scrutiny, Danielle goes the only route that makes any sense: Lying to everybody about nearly everything, from her current major (“gender business”), to the many job interviews she has supposedly lined up. She’s just trying to get through the ordeal, one that Seligman, along with a continually spiraling score from Ariel Marx, ratchets up, until, near the end, poor Danielle is in a near fugue state, sweat glistening on her face, and the attendees, shot in unflattering slo-mo, and distorted lenses, take on the sheen of a waking nightmare. At a brisk 77 minutes, the film still doesn’t have quite enough to sustain its running time  —  at a certain point it begins doubling back on itself  —  but it’s still a lot of horrific fun, as Seligman expertly captures the absolute loss of agency one can feel, swallowed up in a claustrophobic family gathering, where escape feels futile.

Limbo: If Scotland has a cinematic identity, as such, it seems like the kind of place, desolate and unforgiving, where individuals come to exit regular society and come to a land filled with eccentric loners (stoic and unique in their oddities), in order to get better in touch with their souls. Ben Sharrock’s serio-comedy captures both the pitiless beauty of the land, and the lonely plight of a Syrian immigrant, Omar (Amir El-Masry), waiting with a group of other men from across the Middle East and Africa, on an island off the mainland, for word from the Immigration Office that his bid for political asylum has been accepted. Omar, sweet-faced and approachable, was a musician by trade in his native Syria, and walks around everywhere carrying his precious oud, bequeathed to him by his grandfather, also a musician, even though his right hand is locked in a cast from an unspecified injury. Even without the cast, however, you get the sense that his heart really isn’t into playing, despite the entreaties from Farhad (Vikash Bhai), his Afghani roomie and self-appointed “agent and manager,” who wants him to enter a local music contest. Omar is carrying a significant amount of weight beyond missing his mother’s fragrant home-cooking. Talking to her on the lone payphone on the island, where other immigrants-in-waiting stand in line for a chance to hear from home, she implores him to speak to his older brother, who chose to stay behind in Syria and fight in the Civil War that has plagued the region for years. Omar feels guilty for having left, and suffers from having disappointed his father in the process. It doesn’t help him that the culture he finds himself in seems so foreign to him, despite his speaking flawless English. Sharrock’s brand of deadpan perfectly suits the setting, but as funny as the film can be (when asked in a culture/language class to create a sentence using the “I used to” construction, one immigrant offers “I used to be happy before I came here”), it doesn’t paint a rosy affirmation for Omar and his ilk, stuck as they are, as the title suggests, between countries and lives. Omar’s pain is real, and for every positive step forward he takes, it’s one further away from his family and his beloved home country.

Enemies of the State: Sonia Kennebeck’s challenging and curious documentary seems at first to present a case for its protagonist, Matt DeHart, a young teen hacker interested in social justice, who through his work with Wikileaks runs afoul of the U.S. government, and his beleaguered parents, Paul and Leann, who vigorously defend their only child against the evil forces conspiring against him. Through a series of personal interviews with Paul and Leann, both retired Air Force intelligence officers, who believe their country has turned against them for what Matt had downloaded from his computer into secret thumbdrives shortly before the FBI arrived at their door and confiscated all his equipment, and various lawyers they employed, first to protect Matt from what they claim as utterly bogus child-porn charges, then, after they slip away to Canada in the middle of the night, the lawyers trying to earn them asylum. While in Canada, under close supervision and confined to his parents’ apartment, Matt uses his charms, his hackavist bonafides, and his skill at PR, to generate enough interest in his case to become a digital cause celebe, along the lines of Edward Snowden and Chelsea Manning. Protests are fronted, defense funds gathered, and pressure put on the government to come clean about why they seem so hard-driving against the young man. During a peculiar reenactment set in a Canadian immigration hearing  —  Kennebeck employs actors who apparently lip sync their lines in perfect time with the actual recorded audio  —  DeHart describes a harrowing ordeal earlier in the affair, after having moved to Canada to attend college, being abducted by the FBI shortly after crossing the border to renew his Visa, and tortured for days for information related to the material on the thumb-drives. Some documentation seems to corroborate his claims (even Paul and Leann, as fierce supporters as can be, were shocked to see just how ready the FBI were to snatch him), but as the film continues, and we hear more and more from the investigators and prosecuting attorneys about the original child-pornography crimes, it becomes clear that our sympathies are being played with by Kennebeck. By the end, the film itself becomes an indictment of our rapid-assumption culture, in which decisions of guilt and innocence are determined in seconds online and forever after based on the presentation of information before us.

The Way I See It: For non Trumpites, the switchover from eight years of the dignified, intelligent, and measured leadership of Barack Obama, to the perma-tanned tackiness of power-mad, narcissistic bloviating of Donald Trump, was like a double-feature that went from Citizen Kane to Kevin James’ Loudest Farts. One man better than most to measure Obama’s time in office against the subsequent regime is photojournalist Pete Souza, who served as the official White House photographer for both of Obama’s terms, and has gone on to become an outspoken critic of Trump by way of his devastating IG account, in which he juxtaposes stately Obama photos with Trumps scandal-du-jour. Lest you think he’s just another divisively partisan liberal, you have to take into account his previous turn in the White House, as one of the official photographers for Ronald Reagan’s presidency. In fact, Souza’s fly-on-the-wall quality was considered one of his strengths in the oval office. Documentarian Dawn Porter travels with Souza as he makes the media rounds promoting his newest book, Shade, a collection of those IG photos that have earned him millions of social media followers (a sort of companion piece to his previous book Obama: An Intimate Portrait). Hauling from far-off India (where he gets a standing ovation before he even takes the stage), to domestic conferences and speaking engagements, Souza emerges as a man becoming more used to being out from behind his ever-present Canon lens. Through that lens, as he displays to his rapturous audiences, he has taken many hundreds of indelible photos, showing Obama’s various interactions with foreign dignitaries, his council of cabinet members, and his more raucous time with his two daughters (one shot of Obama with his girls making snow angels on the rear lawn during a heavy snow storm remains his computer screensaver, Souza says with pride). As Porter moves from talking heads to public oratories, Souza’s remarkable photos  —  brilliantly composed, and inspiringly intimate, having been given nearly unlimited access to the president  —  play throughout, showing us a collection of images that capture the inspiring hope the president inspired and the agonizing rigors of the job he was elected to perform. The film spends little time on his Reagan years, except to note how media and image-savvy the former Hollywood actor and his wife were (Souza professes no political ill-will towards the Reagans, other than noting that while he didn’t always agree with him, he was a genuinely caring man, who at least understood the parameters of leadership). At first, the film trolls Trump by a sort of subtweet level of backhandedness: Without directly naming names, Souza makes it entirely clear who he finds failing in comparison to Obama’s empathetic, engaging deportment, but by the time the film comes around to his notorious IG account, there can be no doubt the subject of his ire. Souza maintains it has less to do with his partisan feelings (his political affiliation is never revealed), and more the way he finds the current president’s undignified manner and total disrespect for the office and the leadership it demands unacceptable. Trumpers will of course take great exception to the portrait the film portrays of the sitting president, but even the most hardcore GOP folks won’t be able to help noting the blatant differences between the loving, genuinely close Obamas; and the preening, viciously competitive Trumps, each trying to outdo the others in acting as their father’s primary sycophant.

In a year of bizarre happenings, and altered realities, TIFF has shifted its gears to a significantly paired down virtual festival. Thus, U.S. film critics are regulated to watching the international offerings from our own living room couches.

#sweet smell of success #ssos #piers marchant #films #movies #TIFF #tiff 2020 #toronto international film festival #one night in miami #regina king #limbo #The way I see it #pete souza #nomadland #frances mcdormand #chloe zhao #the new corporation #summer of 85 #francois ozon

[heyktula]

Closer, Chapter Three: Consensual - Bonus Features

Chapter three of Closer, the first installment in Somewhere in Canada (the Terror kink AU)... is now up! It's a long one again! The author continues to not be sorry!

Same deal as last week--technical notes first, story notes after, line notes to finish it all up.

Alright, here we go.

Technical Considerations:

Language: Phew, okay. So, I've written plenty of "hard kink written hard" (and arguably some "soft kink written hard"), but with this piece, I specifically wanted to do "hard kink written soft" so, uh, language is a thing! Ie, the sentence "Edward curled his hand into a fist and punched Jopson" does not belong in this fic, because there is nothing soft about that sentence no matter how much Edward loves him positive regard Edward is feeling toward his play partner.

So in order to make this fly the way I wanted to (ie, softly), I tried to avoid over-use of words like "fist", "hit", "punch", and that type of thing. I ended up in a really interesting rabbit hole that I think helped me get further into Edward's head, because the narrative had to become more focused on the technical aspects of what he's doing, and the physical results it's having on Jopson. It also emphasizes the continual assessment of how things are going that's necessary to do this kind of play safely--especially when it's the first time doing this type of play with a partner. And, it's in-character--Edward is an over-thinker anyway.

(I think the scene would have been softer, and probably more romantic, in Jopson's POV, but it would have been far blurrier as well, because he's pretty deep in subspace.)

While I'm talking about language, I'll just mention one other thing--Edward's knowledge of trans men has been academic up to this point, and he's approaching it the same way he approaches everything else, which is listening, learning as fast as he can, and taking Jopson's lead. It also means he's using--and will continue to use--the same language for Jopson as he would for any other man.

Capitalization of Sir: There's a whole entire thing in some subsets of BDSM about capitalization. At the extreme end, all references to the dominant are capitalized, all references to the submissive are lower case, and all references to both are split-capped (is that how it's referred to? I have no idea, but it describes what I mean, so I'm going with it.). It can lead to sentences like "In the dungeon, My pet, michael, always follows the rules W/we have agreed on".

I can't see either Jopson or Little going for that, so we have the more casual version of it going on here--"Sir" is capitalized, but everything else is conventionally capitalized. In a (hypothetical) situation where Jopson was collared to Edward, but referred to someone else in a casual "yes, sir" way, "sir" would be lower case. But then, for extra confusion, for someone like Sir John, where the sir is part of his scene name, it'd stay capitalized, even though Jopson's not collared to him.

(For some reason, I can't picture Sir John not using Sir John as a scene name. James Clark Ross, on the other hand, I feel can take or leave the title unless he's entered into a formal arrangement with someone, in which case that's between him and Ann and whoever else to sort something out.)

Hard Cuts: That's right, I put a hard cut in the middle of the dungeon scene. In my defense, it takes a while to bruise someone whose skin is resistant to bruising, and it's a very repetitive process. Jopson and Edward had a perfectly nice time without us, and I documented most of the good bits for you. (I do feel a bit bad for skipping the majority of the aftercare, but imo, the story arc is fine as it is, and we see enough to know that Jopson has his jacket around his shoulders the way he wanted it, so we can assume Edward bossed it out for the rest of the aftercare too.)

Story Considerations:

Bootblacking: I am not a bootblack. Ideally, this isn't obvious, because I did Online Research, but for people who do bootblack, I'm sorry if I fucked it up.

Also, one thing that I learned in the course of my research is that there's two different kinds of boots--regular boots, which need to be polished, and then oil-tanned boots, which need to be conditioned instead. I gave Edward oil-tanned boots, because that involves a hell of a lot of leg massage via rubbing conditioner into the boot, and I wanted Edward to have a nice tactile experience. (Okay, fine, I also wanted Jopson to be able to show off his skillset.)

Consent Negotiation: I love consent negotiation. I think it's great foreplay, a great way to build hype for a scene, and I think it gives you a sense of a person before you go in and do intimate and/or dangerous stuff with them. I think Edward's initial plan for having the consent negotiation once they'd moved over to the mats was good. I think Jopson's plan of doing the consent negotiation while Edward was a captive audience getting his boots conditioned was better.

There's so many bits and pieces to consent negotiation as well--there's the physical bit (like medical conditions and whether you've had food/water recently--after all, you're putting your body through something challenging, and if you're dehydrated or fasting, that's not ideal conditions), there's the mental bit (like not liking to be humiliated, and any trigger words or actions that should be avoided), and then there's the actual activities that you're going to plan on doing. Typically, there would be an additional bit, and that would be the sharing of STI results. Edward skipped that during this negotiation for two reasons--firstly, he generally just does dry play, ie, no body fluids exchanged. And, secondly, no sex in this particular dungeon. As it turned out, it wouldn't have hurt to have done that.

(Jopson clearly did his own risk assessment on the barrier-free blowjob, and was fine with his chances--but, then, I suspect if you read between the lines on Edward's blog, the lack of a fluid-bonded partner, or an intimate partner of any kind, would have been apparent.)

Dungeon Monitors: Dungeon monitors (DMs) are present in most dungeons, except the play-at-your-own-risk-in-someone's-basement type (and sometimes even those have them). Their general function is to make sure that people are safe, that equipment is being cleaned properly after use, that medical treatment is provided if it's needed, and that type of thing. I figured the medical team was a good translation, so between Goodsir and McDonald, they're splitting the dungeon between themselves for the first chunk of the night. (Presumably Peddie and Stanley are on the later shift, or maybe Bridgens is assisting, but either way, Edward was not paying attention and did not care.)

(I bet Stanley hates dungeon shifts.)

DMs generally wear vests or some sort of gear that makes them easy to spot, which is especially important when they're almost always members of the community as well, meaning that they need to distinguish between when they're on duty, and when they're playing. The radios are handy in case an ambulance needs to be called, which does sometimes happen, but it's also good to allow them to communicate with each other.

For the majority of play, it's not necessary to talk to a DM beforehand. (YMMV, consult your dungeon rules, etc.) In Edward and Jopson's case, since they're going fairly hard, it's a good idea to give a heads-up to your DM to let them know that the scene is happening. McDonald would have been watching them pretty sharply as the play got going, and then probably less so once they settled into it.

Edward noticed exactly zero of this, because he didn't care.

(I guess an additional note there is that sometimes there's a "fear factor" involved in physical play, where the dominant/top partner is specifically and consensually trying to instigate a fear reaction in the submissive/bottom partner. So in that case, having a DM aware of what's happening and what the safewords are is real important to make sure that everything is above-board, ie, the safewords aren't being deliberately ignored.)

Dungeon Rules: They totally would have fucked if they hadn't been in Canada.

Sorry to both of them, but sorry to Jopson in particular.

Subspace: So subspace is basically an altered state of consciousness that can be dropped into during BDSM play. Every submissive/bottom gets there at different speeds and through different methods. Jopson is a masochist, so pain will get him there--but he's deeply into ritual as well, and so just the act of bootblacking for an hour prior to Edward getting there has already gotten him started on that path--though, as he notes, not far enough that he can't pull himself back out of it if it's no longer appropriate to be in it. It's sort of like a hot bath, in that way--if you've just dipped your toes in it, fine, you can go answer the doorbell. But if you've been submerged in the tub for an hour, you're not getting out unless something really pressing happens.

The general, uh, fuzzy nature of subspace means that Edward's call not to discuss facefucking was a good one, because Jopson would have just said yes, and Edward would have derailed himself wondering if it was an honest yes. As it was, Edward got the unprompted deepthroating, and I don't think he has any regrets whatsoever about that one.

Line Notes:

There’s no way for Jopson to know that Edward purchased two collars for him, but he’s showing off his neck like he’s trying to make a point of it, like he’s trying to bring out all the possessive bits that Edward is trying to keep tamped down.

That's exactly what he's doing, Edward. He's trying to gently coax you into going feral on him.

He should have adjusted his dick before he sat down, but it’s too late to do that now without being territorial about it.

Tozer wouldn't hesitate for one moment. He adjusts his dick when he feels like it. Just as an aside.

I don’t see you, Edward wants to say. How have I lived my entire fucking life without ever having seen you?

It's because you and Tozer go to the shittier clubs with louder music and younger people, and I don't think Jopson has been to a club like that in his entire life.

(God, I have, like, an entire essay worth of headcanons about Jopson and his Terror and Erebus experiences.)

“Safeword,” Edward says, after some time has passed.

Jopson looks up at him, eyes wide, and says nothing.

So, we were talking about Jopson's risk assessments earlier, re: the blowjob, and here's another point where Jopson is flirting with the possibility of playing with Edward irresponsibly.  I think there's a couple different things to observe here--and the first is that the ideal response is the one that Edward gives, which is essentially "absolutely fuck that, we'll play with a safeword that you're going to use when you need it, or we won't play at all". The other responses are...less than ideal, but Jopson might have still played with Edward under those circumstances anyways, and that's on Joppie to justify, cuz I'm not gonna bend over backwards to justify that for him. I do think, though, that there's a couple points that happen over the course of the weekend where nobody would blame Jopson if he was doing an assessment and figuring out--is there the possibility of a long-term thing here, or is this a one-weekend-only thing? And in every case, Edward is coming down solidly into the long-term possibility category.

Jopson frees the laces, runs them between his fingers. “I’ll get chatty before I get quiet. When I stop responding verbally when you speak to me, pull me back out, please—speak to me, get me something to drink. Drape my jacket back over my shoulders.” His mouth twists a moment. “I may get…affectionate, but you shouldn’t—”

There's so much here that I want to talk about! First of all, Jopson is highly comfortable with and cognizant of his own response to this type of play, and he's able to articulate that response very clearly--which is something that comes with experience. He's communicating to Edward the point where he wants the play to stop--ie, when he no longer responds verbally--and he's also clear about what needs to be done to gently tug him back out of it. (Coming back out of it isn't always required, but in this case, since they're sleeping separately and working in the morning, it's for the best.)

If Jopson had finished his last sentence, it would have been along the lines of "I may get affectionate, but you shouldn't take it seriously if I do". I pulled directly from Jopson's abandonment issues in canon for that one, and it hurts my feelings to put it here, but it's here so that Edward can respond appropriately this time. I think any feelings that Jopson has during scenes are legitimate--but I also suspect, based on this, that Jopson has been affectionate during scenes before, and had that affection rebuffed, or had it indicated to him that the affection wasn't welcome or needed, so he's used to disclaiming it. Which, ouch.

“Good job,” he says, voice low and right next to Jopson’s ear. “Pack your things. I’m coming back for you.”

Speaking of AU!Edward Littles that didn't fuck up their decisions, here's one right here.

His hand is pleasantly tingling, his mind starting to fuzz out with endorphins, and he wants Jopson to feel the same—

So Edward puts literally zero thought into his own headspace throughout this scene, because that's the kind of POV character he is, but you can see the beginning of his...actually, I don't even know the word for it. Whatever the equivalent of subspace is for doms, Edward is getting into it.

I like symmetry

Says the man with the tattoo on one arm. Alright, Ned. Alright.

"Mrf." Jopson swallows, the movement of his neck something Edward can actually feel, now that he's carrying Jopson fully. "Don’t want to derail the scene—I just—a minute—your cock is quite distracting."

I love that all the physical play was just fine, but it's being nestled against Edward's hardon that makes Jopson need a minute. (Which, fair.)

“Yeah,” Edward manages. “I can—I can do that. You, uh, the safewords?”

One of the things I really love about Edward here is that when he gets overwhelmed with how awesome something is, he reverts back to safety and checking in with his partner. (I'm pretty sure you could contrast that with Tozer, who I'm pretty sure would just talk filth until he'd gotten a grip on things again, and Crozier, who I see as pretty unflappable during play considering that he hasn't met a certain "online guy" yet.)

“I can’t believe we can’t fuck in here,” Jopson mutters grouchily.

Couldn't get ploughed in the dungeon the way I wanted, 0/10 on TripAdvisor.

Edward puts his hands behind his head, tugs at his own hair a moment to ground himself, and then curls his hands into fists where Jopson can’t see them, brings them down and around, quick and sudden, thumping the sides of his hands into Jopson’s ribs.

The very first time I was in a rough play workshop, this move was demonstrated. The demo bottom was facing the audience, and the presenter was sitting on a table behind him. They had him put his hands behind his neck and just stand there and wait while they was talking about something else, but from our position in the audience, we could see them raise their hands above their head, and knew what they were going to do, because they mimed it out for us first. I think that's where I fell in love with this kind of play, because they made it fun.

“I’ll go faster for the rest,” Edward promises. “Keep counting, and you’ll get your reward on five.”

Or, you know, on six, because one of you wanted five hits in a row and restarted the count on purpose, and the other one of you stuck to your promise of going with a verbal command of five because there wasn’t enough time to go through the whole ‘what is the correct response here’ and muscle memory won out over anxiety domming. (You can save your “oops”, Jopson, we all know it’s insincere.) 

Jopson doesn’t scream. His entire body goes stiff, breath sucking quick into his lungs and his fingernails digging sharply into Edward’s bare back, legs clenching around Edward’s thigh, and it’s like time just fucking stops for one ecstatic moment until Jopson goes limp, his hands patting randomly on Edward’s back, over the scratches he’s just left in Edward’s skin that Edward is going to treasure forever, because he did that to Jopson and he’s going to wear these scratches with fucking pride.

Y'all, Edward "so excited about the part where he scratched me that I completely missed the part where he came" Little. He'll be here all weekend.

Jopson blinks, slow and easy. “Quite lovely, thank you. Everything cleaned up?”

I'm deeply in favour of doms who look after cleaning up the space while their subs recover. I'm not convinced that Little and Jopson will fall into that pattern permanently, but I think it's a sweet gesture on Edward's part that he looks after everything for their first time. It's also a very encouraging thing for Jopson--because, say, if he was trying to make sure that he wasn't going to have his service taken for granted, this is a good indication that it won't be.

Edward feels vaguely like he should demur, out of manners, or, uh. Concern for Jopson’s knees, or—or his, um. Aftercare. Or. Or something.

I love deep POV.

Edward raises his eyebrows, deliberately puts his hands flat on the wall behind him. He’s suddenly very, very hard. “I’m not gonna stop you if you want to do it yourself,” he says, voice rough. “That’s hot as fuck.”

*eyeballs emoji*

(And we can make a note of that particular detail for the next chapter, when Edward awkwardly discloses something that Jopson already suspects--or, at least, would suspect if he weren't currently high as fuck on happy endorphins.)

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” Edward says. He swallows. “I—uh. Sorry, this is stupid, I forgot they were there—I generally do, you know, warn people in advance, this isn’t how I normally—I, uh.”

I suspect the actual issue here is that the last time Edward had his dick sucked, there wasn't nearly as much metal in it, so "hey my dick is heavily pierced" isn't a conversation that he's used to having, but Edward can excuse this however he likes.

...it’s just—he’s just—he’s never—not without his partner gagging, and there were always other things they could do, there were always—fuck—this was never a priority...

Little refuses to think of his own dick as big, because it's the dick he's always had, so unfortunately, this is the closest we're gonna get to confirmation of his dick size in his POV.

Edward can feel—oh, fuck, no, that’s not just his cock, he can feel his own piercings in Jopson’s throat, the hard balls of the barbells firm under his fingertips, and Edward’s balls tighten.

I don't want to admit how much time I spent trying to figure out if this was a legitimate thing, but it was more than an hour, I couldn't find an answer, I have no one to ask, and I liked the mental image too much to let it go, so now we're all stuck with it.

I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not.

Edward takes a deep breath, steps into the hotel room, and shoulders his responsibilities.

Edward, sweetie. Sol would be the first one to tell you that he can handle himself.

I mean, we can all agree that he clearly didn’t handle himself particularly well tonight.

But he’d be the first one to tell you to fuck off.

Phew. That's it for this week! Chapter four, Kink, goes up next Friday, and we'll touch on Solomon Tozer's no-good very-bad day then.

And if you have questions or anything in the meantime, you can always drop me an ask on tumblr or Curious Cat. I know I didn't cover everything, even in this long-ass entry, cuz there's a fuck of a lot of stuff going on in the foreground, much less the background. I honestly don't mind if you ask, it's totally cool. :)

See you next week!

#the terror #the terror fic #fic: closer #joplittle #fic breakdown #ktula writes #fic: the terror kink au

[readyplayerhobi]

Peppermint | 01

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, future light angst

; Word Count: 10.6k

; Synopsis: Achieving your dream job is something that very people manage to do, which is why you’re all the more happier when you land a job on the film team at Poppin’ Culture; the biggest pop culture website, blog and YouTube channel around. What you don’t expect however, is to fall for the exceptionally shy and awkward colleague who is not even remotely your type. Or is he?

; A/N: This is just what I’ve been writing to try and get back into the swing of things. It’s just...light and fun. Was supposed to be a one shot but it’s getting long and it feels like a good place to end as a first part! Please send me thoughts, comments and encouragements as it’s a struggle to write lately ;-;

01 ; 02

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“And this is our main office. It’s open plan, as you can see so I hope that doesn’t bother you too much. We’ve found it works better to just throw ideas out in the open or to just get reactions so feel free to shout out if you need something. Everyone’s very friendly,” Seokjin smiles at you brightly, his thick lips turning up and making his eyes sparkle behind his glasses as he leads you into the wide open space. “And this is your desk. Feel free to decorate it however you want. Nothing will beat the car wreck that’s happening on Jimin’s desk.”

“Hey! This is artistic mess. Everything has a place and there is a place for everything.” The bubblegum pink haired man in question half stands, a finger pointing threateningly while his pearly white teeth peek out from beneath plush pink lips. You can’t help but smile, as his slim frame and cute cheeks make him look distinctively non-threatening and ruin any hope he has of convincing you otherwise.

It could also be the fact he looks like a hipster from Seattle with the thick, black plastic frames delicately placed on his nose and the retro 80s film shirt with an open black and white plaid shirt over the top. Still...he’s rather pretty and you wonder momentarily if you’ve somehow entered another dimension with astonishingly beautiful people.

Either that, or you’ve walked into the set of some reality TV show but you’re not quite willing to break the Matrix programming just yet.

Seokjin snorts and rolls his eyes, lifting a ring laden hand to brush his black hair out of them. It’s hindered slightly by the tan beanie on his head and you’re momentarily distracted once more by his impressive frame. The white shirt with the Jaws film poster on it stretches rather enticingly over his broad shoulders while his black, ripped jeans are snugly secured with a leather belt that has a Superman belt buckle.

Honestly, how were you meant to work in this place?

He’d already introduced you to Namjoon, the creator of Poppin’ Culture who oversaw all aspects of his slowly booming media empire along with Namjoon’s wife, Chaeyoung. She oversaw the HR aspect of everything and had been your first point of call before Seokjin had come down to retrieve you upon getting the call that you had arrived.

Seokjin is the editor of the Poppin’ Culture website, which is the big daddy of the whole enterprise. It had originally started 10 years ago in Namjoon’s university bedroom apparently, just posting reviews of retro films and any new films that came out.

A decade later and it was the biggest source of pop culture news, blogs and entertainment in the Western hemisphere. The website scores over 250,000 hits a day with the blogs averaging a pretty healthy number too and the YouTube channels generating a steady enough income to keep a small team afloat with ease.

His sheer love of all things cultural meant that Poppin’ Culture had expanded far beyond its original remit of film and now had something for everyone. There was the film blog, the gaming blog, the music blog, the television blog and even the book blog. And you’d heard rumours of them branching into sports with talk of a fighting blog and channel appearing soon which would be interesting.

Sports were a whole other thing in the world of things people obsess over.

Either way, you’d been rather desperate to get a job here when the opening had appeared on the job listings website for a new in house content writer. When you’d found out that you’d got it, you were pretty sure that you’d almost deafened Sunmi with your screams of excitement.

As a film major with an English literature minor, it was perhaps the dream job to combine both of your loves together and work with people who were just as enthusiastic about the world of film as you were. Your friends and family had long since grown bored of how you picked apart the latest films or their trailers, but now you would have an audience of thousands that would not only be receptive to it, but interested too.

In your earlier meeting with Namjoon and Seokjin, they’d laid out your responsibilities for you pretty clearly. Given that you were in your six month probation period, you would be expected to create two blog articles a week with the possibility of writing a video script if it was approved by the video team.

Two articles may not sound a lot, but you’d already been informed that you would also likely have to do some indepth research into the topics to provide factual information, along with making sure it wasn’t something that had been done before. Not only this, but you would be expected to be constantly scouring the internet to find new topics of interest and trying to catch the latest leaks before they even happened.

While you’d been hired for the film team, you’d been told that most people tended to dip into other areas to help out or if they had some particular interest in it. As such, you could be expected to possibly be asked to find out the Top 10 Facts About The NES or 15 Things You Never Knew About Taylor Swift or something.

Wasn’t the most scintillating of things to you, but you were willing to branch out and help if necessary. It was a small team and you understand that sometimes you’d need to pitch in when it was required of you, which in turn meant you knew that you could rely on the same help.

“Jimin is our music guy. He’s the one who usually writes the music blogs and videos but he also does the gaming stuff sometimes. Also has a regular book blog where he reviews obscure international books because that’s his thing.” Seokjin says, rolling his eyes as he leans against the desk.

Jimin’s desk is littered with piles of CD cases - who even uses CDs anymore? - along with three different pairs of headphones. He also has a ton of Funko Pop! Vinyl figures that you recognise to be musicians along with a set of Assassin’s Creed characters. You recognise them because Sunmi’s ex-boyfriend had them too.

“Really? You’re going to come into my space, and ruin my time while insulting me? Am I going to wake up tomorrow morning to find you shitting on my lawn too?” Jimin slumps back in his chair, pulling a pair of pink and white headphones over his head to rest around his neck while eyeing the taller man with narrowed eyes.

“You live on the top floor of an apartment building ‘Min. What am I? A wizard?”

“I wish. Maybe you’d wingardium leviosa your ass off my damn desk.” He grumbles, nodding his head at you. “Have you ever read In The Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami?”

The question is so sudden that you’re left standing with wide eyes, shaking your head slowly. You’d not read a lot of translated work in college, though you were hoping to change that. Jimin sighs and slumps in his seat, clicking on his mouse a few times.

“Fucking weird dude. Still not entirely sure what went on it.”

Before you can even respond, Seokjin is leading you over to the desk behind Jimin. This desk is even messier, only you really can see the artistic mess here. It’s covered in pencil sketches that are stacked haphazardly while a high tech looking electronic drawing pad takes up most of the space with even the keyboard pushed away.

The guy sat comfortably in the green and black gaming chair has a black beanie on his head too, only he has platinum blonde hair that covers his eyes. And what pretty eyes they are when he looks up at you; as if someone has reached up into the sky and plucked two of the brightest, shiniest stars and placed them directly onto him.

“Oh, hey. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. I’m the graphic designer here...with a side passion of actual drawing obviously. I mostly use Photoshop but I like to get a bit hands on.” He talks rapidly, his voice quite deep but soft. Pausing, he bites on the black lip ring embedded in the right side of his lower lip before sitting back.

The vibrant and colourful tattoos that run up and down his arms do nothing to hide the obvious fit physique he has and you find yourself dragging your eyes away from that ridiculously broad chest. He’s only wearing a black shirt but my god.

Seokjin lets you both talk for a little, discovering that if you need anything made graphics wise then to let Jungkook know. Apparently he’s the head designer and has two more people under him; Jennie who deals with a lot of designing and Soyeon who handles their website and online shop.

You’re then introduced to Yoongi who is in charge of sound for the videos. He’s pretty quiet but friendly and bright, secluded away in the corner of the office with a soundboard in front of him, while his co-worker Lisa, a video editor, is entirely the opposite. They’re both sat on the same bank of desks, and the difference between Yoongi’s monochromatic desk and Lisa’s bubblegum pop explosion is almost amusing.

The video game team was made of Miyeon, Yugyeom and Baekhyun who all took up the corner on the opposite end of the office to you. You weren’t a huge gamer, but apparently the video game side of Poppin’ Culture was one of the most popular and profitable so you could understand why they had the largest team compared to the others.

Your desk is opposite Jimin’s, allowing you a view of him if you look to your right and it looks sparse compared to everyone else’s. The guy behind you is Taehyung and you’re pleased to discover that he’s friendly and warm with a bright box smile that makes you feel at home instantly.

Taehyung is the other content creator on the film team and someone that you’ll be working closely with, though apparently he also works with Jimin on music. From the short conversation you have with him, it seems that Taehyung mainly specialises in foreign film and you surmise that you’ll be left with most of the more mainstream options with the Oscar bait films being split between you both.

He seems enigmatic enough, with the white ribbon wrapped around his neck and billowing white button up shirt that ends with a pair of baggy, tan trousers. He’s not wearing any shoes, or socks, and you wonder if that’s a violation of something somewhere but no one seems to be saying anything.

His entire desk is full of various plants, artistic photographs in elegant frames and beautiful old film posters in miniature form. A photo of a black and tan Pomeranian is eagerly introduced to you as Yeontan, his dog and you can’t help but laugh at how excited he is to show off his lil pup.

But perhaps not as excited as you when you discover that Friday’s are ‘Bring Your Dog To Work’ day. Apparently Taehyung, Yoongi and Jennie all bring their dogs and it usually ends up just being people playing with them.

Yep, definitely the best workplace already.

“Hey Hoseok, come here before you sit down.” Seokjin calls out to the late entry into the office before looking at you. “I’ll introduce you to our head video editor. He’s the one who usually helps with recording videos, then he’ll edit it all together. He works closely with Jungkook for graphics and if you write a script then he’ll work with you to see if you want anything extra added in like humourous cuts, edits and so forth. He’s got Lisa on his team and a guy who works part time, Taemin.”

The man in question almost shuffles forward, a delicate looking hand gripping the brown fabric strap of his shoulder bag tightly while he looks down at his scruffy, black Converse clad feet as Seokjin introduces you to him. He looks about the same height as Seokjin, though all you can see is a head of messy chestnut brown hair and black circular lens glasses that looks like they’re going to fall off his nose.

“Nice shirt.” You say with an encouraging smile, wondering why Hoseok looks like he’s trying to crawl through the floor mentally. He looks up at that with almost shockingly wide eyes and you almost groan out loud.

This place is blessed or cursed. You’re not sure which yet.

He’s wearing a faded Jurassic Park shirt, the famous logo sliced by ‘dinosaur’ claws, while a pair of ever so slightly baggy and ripped denim jeans are kept up by an oversized tan fabric belt, the end trailing down to his knee. A knit grey cardigan covers his arms and you find it oddly endearing how it’s slipping off one slim shoulder, obviously far too big for him.

The shoulder bag he’s carrying also has the Back to the Future logo on it and you point at it with a grin. “Great Scott! I like your bag too.” You point then at your own chest, your shirt emblazoned with the Back to the Future logo and frown as his eyes dart down before his cheeks flush bright red.

His obvious shyness just seems to make him more endearing to you, and you let out a quiet laugh. There’s an almost awkward silence for a moment as Hoseok just stands there, giving Seokjin tiny glances before he finally sighs and points to the desk behind yours. Hoseok almost bolts there, disappearing behind the iMac and you look back at Seokjin with a raised brow.

He kneels down so he’s closer, the music of the radio that’s blasting out 80s classics drowning out anything he might say to you. “Hoseok’s a good guy, he’s just a little socially awkward. A hard worker, and he’ll do anything you ask but...it’s a little hard to get him to open up. Keep trying though, he will occasionally have a full conversation with you and I keep trying to make sure he’s included so he doesn’t feel left out. Don’t take it personally, it’s just how he is.”

Nodding, you turn on your own iMac and wait for it to boot up before going through the process of getting everything ready for you to work. Given it’s your first day, Seokjin just gives you some simple tasks to go through to help familiarise yourself with their method of working before leaving you to your own devices.

It’s as you’re sat reading through the style guideline for the blog that you watch as Hoseok suddenly appears in the corner of your vision. He’s rolled over to the edge of his desk, hands flipping through the stacked letter tray there as he searches for something while he presses his lips together and blows his cheeks out. You can’t help but watch him with idle interest as he does so.

He’s definitely cute, in fact he’s more than cute. Hoseok is actually stunningly beautiful and from the side, you’re getting to see his arresting profile with ease. A strong jawline swoops in bold lines on his face while his nose is a straight slope with the gentlest turn at the end, his lips thin but full enough to look delightfully kissable as he pouts suddenly without thinking as the tiny frown of concentration causes his strong brows to fold in.

As he finds what he needs, you watch as he disappears back behind his screen before sighing quietly to yourself.

It’s probably not very moral, but you definitely had enough new material to keep your spank bank going for a good few months now. If nothing else, you should thank Namjoon for that.

-

“Did you watch Roma yet?” Taehyung asks, rolling his chair backwards until he appears in your vision. His wispy blonde hair lays straight on his forehead as he rests his hands behind his neck, letting his long sleeved blue sweater stretch across his torso. It’s unusually tight for someone who basically lives in baggy clothes; you’re pretty sure he’s even worn his pyjamas once.

Over the last three months of you working at Poppin’ Culture, you’d understandably grown close with Taehyung as you’d bonded intensely over your love of film. It turns out he was also a film major with a photography minor, meaning he was exceptionally invested in the artsy films or just films with great cinematography.

You’d already been subjected to two passion filled rants of his about Mad Max: Fury Road and Blade Runner 2049 as being prime examples of great cinematography in big budget cinema. It was okay though, as you’d already chewed off his ear about why you thought Aliens was one of the best sequels ever made in history and he’d listened with interest.

There was nothing better than someone who was willing to indulge in your long winded talks about your favourite films; from cult classics to obscure favourites to Hollywood blockbusters. Your rapport with him was so good in fact, that Seokjin had had you do a test video with him to see how well you worked in front of the camera.

The results must have been positive as you’d been given a weekly film podcast with Taehyung that talked about the week’s releases along with any news in the film world. If there was time then you both would regale viewers with your favourite films and analyse them.

So far, it was doing pretty well and you were pleased with the numbers it was pulling in. Not to mention that people seemed to like your inclusion into the videos, which was why you’d ended up in a few other videos around music or even gaming just to voice over them. Taehyung had obviously been a hit.

He had a face for the camera and you’d already jokingly suggested in many a team meeting that they should make merchandise with just his face on it. His little fan club even named themselves ‘Taes Baes’.

“No, I haven’t had chance yet. I’ve been watching The Sinner, I’ve only got like two episodes left but I’ll check it out at some point! Alfonso Cuarón makes such good films; Gravity is still amazing and I’m still mind boggled at the sheer complexity of how that must have been to film with all the CGI they had to do but I feel like Roma looks a little more stripped down.”

Taehyung is nodding slowly, biting his lip almost absentmindedly as he listens to you. “Gravity is great, but you should definitely check out Children of Men. Much better, but Y Tu Mamá También is also phenomenal if you don’t mind the sexual scenes. But yeah, watch Roma. Definitely going to be a bit hit with the awards season and I can see him getting Best Director at the Oscars.”

“Really? It wouldn’t surprise me.” You muse, leaning back in your own chair and crossing your legs as you watch him now.

“Yep. And if he does win, then that’ll be his second Best Director win and it will also mean that Mexican directors have won five out of the last six. They’re killing the Oscars game lately. I still wish Barry Jenkins had won for Moonlight...way better than La La Land.” He sighs wistfully before nodding at your computer screen inquisitively, the beginnings of your latest blog post on the screen.

“Oh, I’m writing why I think Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse deserves the Best Animation at the Oscars. I liked The Incredibles and Ralph but if they win over the magnificence of Spider-Man then I will flip this table.” Pointing to your desk jokingly, Taehyung giggles sweetly.

Your desk has also changed over the last few months as well. A few cute Funko figures of your favourite Star Wars characters have popped up along with one or two more stylised figurines like your Xenomorph alien. Along with that, you’ve invested in some funky letter trays and pots to just bring some brightness to portray your personality a little more.

“I’ve not watched it yet. I know, feel free to pinch my arm. Hoseok has watched it though, he mentioned it the other day. Hey Hoseok, come here bro.” He calls out loudly, turning slightly to watch for the quiet man who spends his days on the computer behind yours.

Slowly, and adorably you might add, Hoseok’s meek face peers around the side of both his and your monitors as he stares owlishly at Taehyung beneath those outdated glasses. You’d say they were ugly, and they were, but he seemed to pull them off.

His hair is hidden today beneath a sand coloured beanie, leaving his entire face exposed and you coo softly at his tiny folded ears. It wasn’t something you’d noticed till Jimin had one day pointed over to the video editor, whispering words of adoration to you as he stared a little moon-eyed and lamented how his own ears didn’t look that cute.

It was beyond endearing, along with the slight pout his lips were pursed in. He probably hadn’t been listening to your conversation and so had no idea what was going on.

You’d noticed that Hoseok either kept an earphone in at all times or covered them with over-ear headphones when he wanted to work hard and not be disturbed. He certainly wasn’t rude but he definitely didn’t seem to be hugely confident in making conversations with people.

That didn’t stop people from trying to include him though, and you got the definite sense that everyone in the office adored Jung Hoseok and simultaneously wanted to hug him and protect him. You certainly did, and you were quite pleased that no one bullied him.

He, unfortunately, had the demeanour that would attract the attention of assholes but Seokjin and Namjoon ran a tight ship here. You did kind of wish that he got included in more outside events though.

“S-sorry. W-wh-what?” His voice is soft, the perfect mix of deep and high as he stutters out a response to Taehyung. The long sleeved shirt he’s wearing is almost salmon pink and has some generic looking cartoon on the front. It looks warm, and you find yourself lamenting the fact that you hadn’t brought a cardigan with you today.

“Spider-Man, the new one. You said to Jungkook that you’d watched it right?” There’s a moment of hesitation as Hoseok’s eyes flick to you before he’s nodding slowly. Almost immediately you grin brightly, not noticing the way that Hoseok pauses with his breath caught before his shoulders shift up to his ears.

“Oh my god, wasn’t it so good? The animation is just beautiful, it makes me want to scream. Like those cityscape shots? Could easily be mistaken for a photo if you just showed someone it. And the perfect blending of the different art styles of the Spider-People and god the music was so good. Miles is amazing and if it doesn’t win then I’m gonna Hulk out,” You pause and look at Taehyung who’s smirking in amusement. “Seriously, I don’t even know how to describe the animation. Think 3D...but not. You get me, right Hoseok?”

Hoseok’s eyes go astonishingly wide once more as you question and his mouth opens and closes a few times as he struggles to find an answer for you. He just settles for nodding quickly, reaching up to pull his beanie off and sort out his hair.

The chestnut locks have gone a bit wild under his hat and you have to bite your lip to stop laughing at how it goes all over the place, though another part of you wants to aww at how cute he looks.

“One day Hoseok, one day I’ll get you to spout poetic bullshit about a film you love.” You tease lightly, tapping at your gel wrist rest that lays alongside your keyboard to ease the pressure on your wrists as you type. He swallows audibly, causing you to laugh out loud while Taehyung chuckles and shakes his head.

“Hoseok has fucking terrible film taste. He thinks Batman v Superman was actually good.” Jungkook calls out and you turn to look at the graphic designer. He’s reclining in his chair, hands over his stomach with an ankle hooked over his knee while he observes the scene on the other side of the office.

Jimin is in the exact same position behind him while he nods his head sagely and you gasp in horror, a hand to your chest as you look back at Hoseok. “Say it isn’t so Hoseok.”

The man in question looks like he wants to sink through the floor as he gives a meagre shrug. Your wail of horror has him cringing while everyone else in the office sniggers and Taehyung pats your back in consolation.

“This can’t be. Why? Is it because your mom is named Martha too?” Jungkook lets out a bark of laughter at that while Jimin creases, folding over in his chair as his forehead rests against his knees from the force of his laugh.

Hoseok attempts to speak a few more times before he frowns deeply, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “N-no. That was d-d-dumb. I just like Batman. I-i-it’s not my favourite f-f-film but it’s not terrible.”

You lean back and stare at him, raising a brow slowly as you narrow at your eyes at him. “What is your favourite film then?”

This is probably the most you’ve talked to Hoseok in the whole three months about non-job related work. You’re actually surprised he’s engaging this far, and you study him closely to make sure he doesn’t look uncomfortable or unhappy. The last thing you want is him to get upset.

But he doesn’t back down from your question, instead staring at something on his desk intently before looking back at you. You almost lean back in reaction, the intensity of his gaze far stronger than you’d expected and you’re surprised to feel a slight stirring of sexual lust for him. While you’d always acknowledge he was handsome - wasn’t everyone in this place? - you’d never quite seen Hoseok in a ‘oh holy cow’ light until right now.

“I-I-I don’t have one. B-b-but I like Jurassic Park and Blade Runner. And the Godfather. Oh, and Big Hero 6.” He adds as an afterthought, and you feel oddly proud that he didn’t stutter throughout the rest of the conversation. It was obviously just a nerves thing, but you kind of hope that he’ll get a bit bolder if you keep trying with him.

“Good choices. Solid. Not pretentious like the avant garde master here. He probably watches his porn in French black and white too.” A casual thumb thrown in Taehyung’s direction gets you the finger in response.

“It’s black and white softcore German, you heathen. No one does the group sex quite as good. The camera angles when there’s so many bodies.” He kisses the tips of his fingers before blowing them in the air, causing you to stare at him with a slightly grossed out face.

Looking at Jimin, you shake your head. “You know, I’ve only known the two of you for three months now. But I can easily see how you started dating. You with your weird music and books and Taehyung with your pretentious films.”

Taehyung gasps theatrically before smiling, fully aware that you’re joking around with him. Jimin on the other hand, snorts loudly and sticks his tongue out at you. “Hey, there’s nothing weird about my music choices. And what the hell. You’ve been listening to Billie Eilish non-stop lately according to your Spotify. And while she’s incredibly talented, I wish she’d lighten up a little.”

Turning to look at the cotton candy haired guy, though his hair was mostly hidden today by a black ball cap, you raise an eyebrow slowly. “Firstly, don’t insult Billie like that! Her songs are beautiful and soothe my soul. And also, this coming from the guy who listens to Morrissey. Unironically, I might add. Your opinion is invalid in this conversation.”

“...You know what. I can't even argue that. You right.” Jimin shrugs in defeat and sits back while Taehyung makes consoling noises at his boyfriend from his seat.

The delicate snort from behind your monitor makes your eyes widen, causing you to shift over slightly to watch Hoseok as he giggles. His white teeth peek out at you as he bites on his lower lip to try and contain his laugh.

And from how pretty and sweet it sounded, you wish he wouldn’t. The soft noises he lets out are oddly infectious, causing you to laugh in turn with a pretty dopey expression on your face and making you completely oblivious to the sly look Jimin and Taehyung are sharing.

“You love Imagine Dragons too, right? Hoseok listens to them all the time.” Taehyung says helpfully, gesturing with his chin towards the man behind your monitor.

Spinning back, you look at Hoseok with a happy grin and clap your hands together excitedly. “Oh my god, yes! I’m in love with Bad Liar right now, and Zero is so fun. I think Jimin keeps laughing at me for dancing in my seat.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond to you properly though, just nodding his head and smiling slightly as you playfully glare at the slim man across the office.

“On the subject of dating though...Hoseok. Have you ever had a girlfriend before? Or boyfriend, if that’s your thing.” Jimin asks, his tone not even slightly sly and you look at him in surprise. If he was trying to not be obvious, then he was being about as subtle as the Seattle Space Needle. Surely they’d already know this right?

As far as you’ve gathered, Jimin has been at Poppin’ Culture for four years and Taehyung for three. The two had started dating two years ago and despite your teasing, you were already confident that they were two of the cutest couples you’d ever seen.

Hoseok though, had apparently been with the company for years. He’d gone to college with Namjoon, Chaeyoung and Seokjin and had a film production degree. Namjoon had started Poppin’ Culture when he was 19, in his second year, and Hoseok had come on board once they’d branched out to a YouTube channel.

Still, you’re surprised by the way Hoseok’s cheeks go bright red and his eyes dart to you for a moment before he’s looking down at his desk once more. A wet tongue peeks out of his mouth quickly as he licks along his lips to wetten them, coughing to clear his throat before he’s looking back up at Jimin with a frown.

“Would you like the name of my e-e-ex-girlfriend? I’m s-s-socially awkward, not inept.” You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you look at Jimin with a ‘wtf’ look. As nice as he was, he was a bit blunt and you felt that situation could have probably done with a little more tactful handling. Hoseok looked like he could fry an egg on his cheeks and Jimin winces at the glare both Taehyung and you give him.

“Sorry man. I was out of line. I didn’t mean to insult you.” The apology is sincere in tone, with Jimin ducking his head and turning back to his work. You watch carefully as Hoseok eyes the younger man before letting out a quiet sigh and nodding his acceptance.

The atmosphere is slightly awkward now, and you’re desperate to make Hoseok less uncomfortable which is why you find yourself blurting out words you immediately want to swallow back up. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve not had a boyfriend since I was 20 and I’ve not been laid in four years.”

Almost immediately your hand is slapping over your mouth as your eyes widen in horror, apologies falling from your lips like honey as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Not only are Hoseok’s eyes resembling dinner plates, his jaw dropped open in shock, but so is just about everyone else’s in the office. Well, that’s certainly one way to make him feel better about himself you guess.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Everyone, we need to be careful with her. She’s going through some tough times. Only 26 and already looking at a life of non-sexual fulfilment.” Taehyung drones deeply, his voice faux-sincere and you glare at him while pushing his hand off your shoulder.

“I will delete your folder of obscure foreign films.” You hiss at him through narrowed eyes, causing him to burst out into laughter as his hand slaps his thigh in amusement.

“Oh god, you crack me up. I need to thank Seokjin for hiring you, seriously. God, get on with your Spider-Man boner before you accidentally reveal something else way too intimate for the workplace to know.” He snorts before rolling back to his own desk. The office thankfully goes back to normal after that, the low level of chatter competing with the soft sounds of today’s playlist.

Looking at your screen, you’re distracted momentarily by the sight of Hoseok still in view just around your monitor. He’s looking at you in that way people do when they’ve checked out, their brains focused on something else entirely and you watch him back in amusement until he realises.

Almost immediately he cringes, bowing his head slightly and giving an uncomfortable smile before sliding back out of view. Smiling, you shake your head and pop your headphones back into your ears as you get back to work.

You’re oddly pleased to see Hoseok stand up for himself bluntly, and you remind yourself not to baby him. He’s a grown man after all, older than you.

The flashing of your phone lets you see that you’ve got a new notification from Facebook, and you roll your eyes as you click on your screen to see what it is. What you see however has you slowly smiling as a flutter of butterflies take flight in your stomach and you tap accept eagerly.

You have a new friend request: Jung Hoseok

-

The next few weeks roll by quickly with Taehyung and you becoming inundated with awards season nominations, ceremonies and just general Oscar bait films. It had even resulted in a whole ‘Top 10 Oscar Bait Films’ video on the Poppin’ Culture Film YouTube channel which had proven remarkably popular, even spawning a sequel that was generated purely from user comments.

You’re actually surprised with just how much you continue to love your job, even with the sheer pressure of blog and video deadlines constantly breathing down your neck. And it doesn’t take you long to realise that it’s because of the people you work with who make working that overtime all the more sweeter.

Jimin is genuinely hilarious and when paired up with Jungkook he becomes hysterical. Lisa has easily become your female work best friend, with the two of you Skyping all the time on your work computers and soon venturing out into the world to go to dinners, concerts and the cinema while Taehyung is an incredibly hard working colleague who always keeps a close on eye on how you’re doing.

It’s genuinely one of the best places you’ve ever worked and you thank all your lucky stars that you’d been accepted because you were pretty sure that you were making some of the closest friends you could.

And then there was Hoseok.

Jung Hoseok still remained a mystery to you and you weren’t entirely sure why you so desperately wanted to figure him out. Or maybe not figure him out, because you kind of liked how shy and mysterious he is.

The rest of your colleagues have been pretty open books and you were pretty sure that you were on the verge of receiving daily updates on Jimin and Taehyung’s sex life - you were that close with the two. But you still knew almost nothing about Hoseok and it drove you wild.

What was even more annoying was the fact that only you were apparently bothered by it too. The others just shrugged and said that he’d always been quiet and introverted, so they just made it clear to him that they were there if he wanted to talk or make friends with them. Apparently he never went out on the workplace socials and he rarely talked to others via text or Skype.

Which kind of infuriated you, because it probably was true that Hoseok preferred to be alone and lost in his world of music. But there must be something horribly isolating about never getting invited to things or never being included, which is why you kept trying to include him in your own conversations. The others would sometimes talk around him, but you always tried to make sure that he felt comfortable and included in your conversations.

Taehyung had honestly admitted in a meeting that he wasn’t entirely sure why you kept asking Hoseok things, pointing out that you might be annoying him. But you’d countered with the fact that you always gave Hoseok plenty of options to slip out of the conversation, yet he would continue it on sometimes.

It had been then that Taehyung had flushed a pretty golden pink, nodding his head as he acknowledged the fact that Hoseok had opened up more in the last few months of you being here than in the years he’d been here. That on its own had made your heart hurt. No one could enjoy being so easily disregarded, no matter how quiet and introverted.

Currently though, you were slouched on your couch with your best friend, Sunmi, as you both ate pepperoni pizza while watching Avengers: Infinity War for the bajillionth time. You, because you just loved the film, and her because she really loved Chris Hemsworth.

Honestly? Mood.

“I swear, this is the most badass entry scene of any entry scene in all of film,” You blurt out randomly, lifting your fist as Thor appears on screen in the middle of the battlefield and shouting out alongside him. “Bring. Me. Thanos!”

Sunmi snorts elegantly from your side, taking a bite of greasy pizza and chewing slowly while she eyes up her fictional man with pleasure. A hum of delight leaves her when Thor meets up with Captain America and you laugh, poking at her side.

“Imagine being in a Chris sandwich.” She looks at you and wiggles her carefully put together eyebrows before giggling.

“I wish. God, they can wreck me any day. You know, I can’t believe that you get to watch stuff like this and then write about it or make a video about it. Why can’t I just laze around and do that? Do they have an opening for me?” She pouts at you, placing the crust back in the box before wrapping her hands around your wrist and playfully whining.

You laugh loudly and take a bite of your own slice. “For what? Sorry Elle Woods, but you’re going to have keep your bending and snapping for the judge and jury. I doubt Poppin’ Culture - The Law Version will be very popular.”

“What about if I wear a hot pink bikini?” She says seriously, her face carefully blank as you give her a droll stare.

“Yeah sure, lemme give PornHub a call. I’m sure they’ve got a whole audience just waiting for their law lectures from Bikini Girl 3.” Sunmi shrieks with laughter at that, rolling backwards until her head is hitting the arm of the sofa and relaxing into the pile of cushions there.

Reaching her foot up, she prods at your thigh annoyingly until you push her away with a sigh.

“So, how is your work though? You’ve been spending a lot of time there. Which, by the way, is ridiculous. I only spend extra time doing work if I’m getting paid for it because I do not enjoy my job that much.” Sunmi sighs heavily, letting her arms fall behind her head as she turns her gaze back to your large television screen.

“Okay firstly, it was your decision to take a law degree. Your parents are assholes but they’re not dickish. They would have been fine with you being a doctor instead. Secondly, you make so much money an hour that you shouldn’t complain. You can literally buy a pair of Jimmy Choos with an hour.” Closing the pizza box, you lean forward and place it onto your wooden coffee table before leaning back and patting your stomach affectionately.

“Firstly you bitchass, I don’t make a lot because I’m still not fully qualified yet. It costs a lot to be a lawyer and the work is boring because I’m in property law. Yawn. Secondly, I hate property law but I would’ve passed out being a doctor. Blood and snot? No thanks. Maybe I should just give it all up and go back to college to become an artist.” She says dreamily and you look over at her with a raised brow.

“Do it. If it’s what you want. Your life shouldn’t be made on a decision you did based on what your parents wanted for you, as much as you might want to make them happy. They’re not your life, and you’ll burn out quicker if you do something you hate.” Sunmi just hums before shifting the pillows until she’s looking at you.

“Still. It’s nice that you’re enjoying it. I’m happy for you. I need to meet this Lisa, so you better set up a playdate or something. If she’s banging, I may just bang her. I mean, if you’re alright with that. And she likes girls.” Sunmi wiggles her brow and you laugh, shaking your head slowly.

“I think Lisa swings both ways honestly, so go for it. She’s pretty and cute with a really nice and fun personality. I wish I could introduce you to Jimin and Taehyung as well. They’re funny individually but hilarious together. Urgh, I wish I had someone the way Jimin eyefucks Tae across the room.”

“Does he realise you can see that?” She asks, an incredulous look on her face and you nod with a laugh.

“Oh yeah. He just gives me an innocent smile. They’re fun though and make me laugh, it’s like a family.” You sigh softly, slumping down further into the couch pillow. Sunmi’s quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

“What about that quiet guy? Hoseok right?” Pausing, you chew on your lip as you stare blankly at the screen and wonder how to describe him to her.

“Hoseok...is sweet. Quiet but sweet. He doesn’t get involved in conversations of his own accord still, but I include him and he’ll get more involved now. We even have whole conversations just him and I, particularly about our love of 80s films though they’re not very long conversations. It’s nice, I’m literally watching him become more integrated and it’s kind of annoying that everyone just let him stagnate in his isolation. Like, seriously. Did no one ever think that maybe he doesn’t get involved because people have let him isolate himself? It’s hard to pull yourself out of that, and he’s obviously trying.” You don’t even realise you’re half ranting until you see Sunmi’s bemused smile, causing your cheeks to heat.

“Anyway, yeah. He’s a lot more caring than people think too. He just doesn’t show it in ways that you or I would, nor does he talk about them. Like...the other week I came in one morning to find a tube of dissolvable vitamin C tablets on my desk. When I asked where they’d come from, Hoseok Skyped me and said that he thought I looked like I was lacking a bit of vitamin C and to take one with water every day. And then when I was feeling a bit tired, he made me a cup of green tea. I swear Sunmi, he was so sweet and adorable because he kept stumbling over his words while telling me that green tea was healthy and rejuvenating but he didn’t like the taste so he always has peppermint and he hoped I liked peppermint too.”

Sunmi says nothing for a moment and you look at her in confusion, wondering why she’s suddenly decided to be quiet. It’s not like her to not get involved in your conversations, only she’s staring at you with wide eyes and a pretty mouth that’s fallen open.

“Oh my god. You like him.” Her words cause you to pause, frowning immediately as you shake your head in denial.

“What? No I don’t. I mean, yeah as a friend. Or I hope as a friend, but not anything more than that.” She lets out a peal of high pitched laughter while sitting up, looking closely at your face with those mahogany eyes of hers.

“Yes, you do. Oh my god, he is not even remotely your type from the sounds of it yet you’re falling hard girl. Show me a picture of him.” You want to keep denying her, mind spinning from what she’s come out with as you wonder where she’s got this impression from.

But once Sunmi has made up her mind, then it’s game over for everyone else. Sure enough, you find yourself scrolling through your phone on Facebook to find a nice picture of him to show her. And as you look through his, admittedly few, profile pictures, you pause for a moment as you realise that maybe she’s right.

Only people who like someone try and find the best looking picture of them, too afraid that their friend or family member will laugh and think their crush ugly. The swooping sensation in your stomach is confusing, and you don’t know whether it’s shy excitement or just plain old nausea.

Finally deciding on a picture of Hoseok that has obviously been taken in a coffee shop, you turn the phone screen so she can see. It’s got dim lighting, and has looks to have been taken on a Polaroid style camera from the style of it but he looks good.

In fact, he looks beautiful and his bright smile kind of takes your breath away.

He’s just wearing a plain white, long sleeved shirt with dark brown hair parted in the centre, the strands laying carelessly on his forehead while those beautiful chocolate eyes stare out from behind the lenses of his glasses. The table blocks anymore view of him and yet you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your stomach slowly spread along your veins.

Hoseok’s smiles are still rare, but they’ve slowly been becoming more frequent as you continue to talk to him. And every time you think he should smile more often, because he has a face that’s made for a smile.

His mouth is stretched wide with perfectly white, straight teeth showing and the force of the expression causes his eyes to narrow, soft tan cheeks looking adorably kissable.

Oh, you’re totally fucked.

“Holy shit…are you kidding me? This is Quiet Guy? Shy Guy? Holy fuck girl. He’s gorgeous! Look at that smile, oh my god. And he has such pretty eyes, that’s just not fair. Oh, please go for him. I know I said that he’s not your type because you normally like either those hipster guys or bad boys but he looks like he’d be so good for you. He looks kind, like you’d call him and say you’re sick and he comes right over to make you food and wraps you up in a blanket before cuddling with you, telling you that you need body heat to stay warm.” You look at her with a raised brow as she takes your phone and scrolls through his photos.

“And he obviously likes you.” Her words throw you then, causing you to frown as you stare before finally asking why she thinks.

“Because you said it yourself. He talks to you, even when he doesn’t talk to the others. You’ve said he keeps conversations going with you. He added you on Facebook first and he’s taking care of you in a weird but cute way of flirting. Like I said, he looks like he’d be a good boyfriend because he’s already trying to make sure you’re healthy and okay.”

She hands your phone back and points at the screen, where a new photo of Hoseok is. It’s not from his profile pictures, so you just presume it’s one that someone took of him and tagged him in. He’s asleep on his side on a couch, his right cheek smooshed into a pillow while his other looks soft and round. Pink lips pout in his sleep, the ends turned up while his lashes remain firmly closed and his hair is all over the place.

You have the strongest urge to reach through the screen to kiss his cheek.

“I think you should think on it, because I know you. And you’re probably having a little internal argument right now about whether or not you like him. But...if you decide that you do. Then I think you should go for it, because he looks nice. Get to know him a bit more, get him to open up his walls to you a bit more and then see if he really is interested. It’s been a while since you smiled like that about someone, and even longer since you searched through their pictures to find me the most flattering.” Dammit, you knew she’d figure you out.

You don’t respond though, simply locking your phone and placing it down on the cushion next to you as you both turn your attention back to the film. But you can’t help the what if’s that float around in the back of your mind, wondering if perhaps she’s right not only about yourself, but also him.

Did Hoseok like you?

-

Quite understandably, your interactions with Hoseok are suddenly tinged with a film of awkwardness as you contemplate the fact that you quite possibly like your shy colleague. And that’s to say nothing of how closely you watch his interactions with you to see if there’s a chance that he likes you in the way you like him.

Honestly, anyone would think you were 14 and not 26.

But he made you feel like a teenager though. The fluttering of nervous excitement in your stomach whenever he would look at you with that soft, bashful smile he’d give you whenever he caught your eye in the office. The way you would feel sad resentment when he was ill or was working from home and so didn’t come in.

How could you not though? Not only was he soul wrenchingly handsome and pretty, he was also thoughtful with the few conversations he would engage in and he was so sweet and kind.

When you’d complimented him on the peppermint green tea he’d brought you the other week, you found yourself with a mug being made every time he got up to go to the kitchen. You’d be completely absorbed in your work, staring at your screen intently with headphones in to keep distractions at bay, when you’d suddenly smell the pleasant scent of peppermint drifting to your nose.

And then you’d look to your side and see a fresh cup of tea sat there, steaming slowly in your Star Wars mug.

A quick glance behind your screen would let you see Hoseok staring firmly at his screen, refusing to look at you and yet his cheeks tinging a rosy glow that made your heart tug. It was only fair to respond in kind, and so you’d taken to making him a cup of your favourite tea as well, delicious salted caramel, and leaving it on his desk.

He hadn’t complained, so you took that as a sign that he enjoyed it too.

Maybe others would look at your interactions with laughter or bemusement, but you liked them. If he was flirting with you, because let’s face it you were flirting with him, then you were quietly excited and hopeful. You could cope with glacial, as long as it would hopefully result in something at the end.

Currently, you were attempting to film a video talking about the films that were snubbed completely at the Oscars. Taehyung had written up the script for you but was suffering from a winter cold at home. You’d claim man-flu, only you’d video called him and seen the dark circles under his eyes, sallow skin and bright red nose as he’d sniffled and snorted his way through your conversation.

As a result, you’d had to grab your emergency make-up kit from your drawer and rush to the bathroom to apply it. Today had been a lazy day; meaning you were just wearing a pair of ratty black jeans and an ancient Star Wars shirt that had once been black but was now an odd shade of grey.

Once you’d felt that you looked at the very least passable to the potentially thousands upon thousands of people who would be watching your face, you rush back through the office to place your kit back before heading over to the recording room. Tapping on the door lightly, you open it up to find Hoseok and Lisa inside as they set up the camera and lighting.

Already, the big ring lights are glaring and you’re feeling hot as you move over to the two, watching as they mess with the camera before checking over the computer on the desk next to it. Lisa moves around to the front, standing over the duct tape X on the floor and clipping the tiny microphone onto her shirt while waiting for Hoseok.

He’s wearing a plain white shirt today with a yellow and black check shirt open over the top and a plain pair of jeans. For some reason, he’s apparently decided to emulate Jungkook and is wearing some tan Timberland’s as well, though they surprisingly work well with the outfit.

You’ve noticed that Hoseok isn’t exactly the most fashionable person, but he’s yet to wear something that you find genuinely offensive. In fact, you often find that he manages to look hot even when he really shouldn’t. Maybe it’s just a talent attractive people have?

Hoseok gives a small nod to Lisa as his eyes flicker up from the screen, the light being reflected in his glasses. Lisa begins to talk random nonsense, performing a soundcheck to make sure the microphone is working properly while also making sure the camera’s fine.

Once done, she helps you to thread the microphone through your shirt and clip it on while placing the main pack into your back pocket. You stand on the X while going over the script that you can read on the screen reader facing you on the table.

Lisa slips away while you’re busy practicing, going through quick vocal exercises to warm your voice up as you continue to read over what you’re going to say. In your mind, you’re already visualising what the video will look like and you kind of feel sad that Taehyung can’t do this. It’s a good script.

“Okay. Are you ready?” Hoseok’s voice is soft and light, every word sounding like it has been cautiously thought of before he speaks it. You smile slightly as your head nods forward in response to him before clearing your throat and clenching your hands a few times while letting out a deep breath.

“Am I in the right place?” Looking down at the floor, you make sure that your feet are squarely on the spot and Hoseok looks through the camera before giving a cute okay symbol with a wink and pressed smile. It causes you to bite your own lower lip, desperately keeping inside the ‘cute’ that wants to escape.

“Okay, recording in three...two…” He stops speaking after that and mouths out the final one before pressing the button to record, a red light sparking to life on the camera and immediately you’re smiling brightly.

There’s no real pressure on you to do a good take in one shot, because Hoseok will be editing the scenes together and making some shorter to suit the video anyway. But you don’t really like wasting unnecessary hard drive space for him if possible. Plus, it just means he has to stare at your foolish facial expressions for longer and you’d really rather not.

On that note, it’s a little unfair that he gets to watch your face up close with a 4K camera. Actually, you’ve never thought about that before and almost immediately your brows crease at the thought of him seeing every pore and blemish on your skin. Christ, the camera does not do anyone justice and you want to whine at the thought of him seeing all your bad points in such harsh lighting.

When you don’t actually start speaking and instead start making a distressed face, Hoseok’s head peeks out from behind the monitor and he frowns at you in turn. Eyes focusing on his pretty visage, you have to squint slightly to see him properly from behind the astonishingly bright lights set up but you shake your head to reassure him.

Rolling your head on your shoulders and blowing bubbles with your lips, completely unaware of the tiny amused smile on Hoseok’s lips as he watches you through the monitor, you force yourself to get back into the zone.

The rest of the hour spent recording goes more or less like usual, with multiple outtakes when you mess things up and cause yourself to laugh. One of the hardest things of recording videos is just being able to being able to speak properly. You’ve had to learn to over-enunciate sometimes to avoid slurring your words together, because that just encourages hate from viewers.

And you are not in the mood to get hate. It’s already hard enough being a female commentator on the channel, and you’d had to grow some pretty thick skin in both the comments and on your own social media.

But there were plenty of equally great people too in fairness, and you’d even kind of got to know some regular viewers from the constant interactions you got both on your videos and on your own Twitter account. It was nice to have a mini fan club of people who were willing to defend you against the trolls and raise you up when you’re feeling down, though it’s not nearly as many as Taehyung’s extortionately big legion of fans.

There’s only a few major mishaps this time, with a few pronunciations of your words going horrifically bad and you find yourself cringing. Hoseok has a good chuckle on occasion and the bright bubbles of his laughter make you smile in turn, heart sparking with happiness at making him laugh.

Once Hoseok gave the signal to indicate that he was pretty happy with the recording, you let your shoulders drop while your head falls back on your shoulders, a deep groan leaving you as your entire body relaxes. Reaching to pull the microphone and its pack from under your shirt, you move over to Hoseok as he turns the light and camera off before he’s checking over the computer to transfer the new video files to his solid state drive.

“Did everything look good in it?” You ask, leaning your hip against the desk while your arms cross over your chest. Hoseok pauses for a moment at your close proximity before looking up at you slowly, his beautiful brown eyes looking sweetly innocent and big as he takes you in.

It’s still ridiculously endearing how shy he gets around you, but what you like even more is how it’s only when he’s not doing work related things. The last hour has been spent with him practically bossing you around, barking out polite requests when you’ve moved out of frame or have said something wrong.

He wasn’t mean about it or anything, he just took his job very seriously and it’s what made him such a damn good videographer and video editor. He knew what he needed and wasn’t afraid to tell people what to do in regards to that, so the sudden reversal back into the meek Hoseok tugged at your heart.

“Y-yeah. You did good. Less bad shots today.” You pout at him theatrically before pushing lightly at his shoulder, just enough to make him rock where he stands.

“Hey! There’s no need to be mean. You make it sound like I’m as bad Yugyeom! I don’t mess up that bad.” Lower lip sticking out, you look down at the floor until Hoseok lets out a soft and breathy laugh, shaking his head while adjusting his glasses slightly.

“I-I didn’t mean-. I’m not saying anything else,” He looks at you and gives you a wry smile. “I-I’m not stupid. I think I’ve dug enough of my own grave here.”

You can’t help but laugh out at that as you lean forward, body moving of its own accord before you move around him and rest your hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and solid beneath your palm, even through the layers he’s wearing and you swallow in sudden awareness of the firmness of him.

He freezes in place subtly as well, the muscles under your fingers tensing a little as neither of you move for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched him, and neither of you really seem to know what to do.

Swallowing, you let out a chuckle that’s a little higher pitched than you perhaps intended but you try to make it sound as natural as you can. Even if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed now when your hand feels warm and bizarrely sweaty.

“Funny, you’re way funnier than I thought Hobi!” The nickname you’d overheard Seokjin calling him once slips out without meaning to and you cringe with gritted teeth behind his back, taking your hand off his shoulder to pinch your leg at your stupidity. “Well, I hope it goes well. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me or just when it’s done so I can look it over? Thanks and bye!”

You can’t stop how fast the words fall from your lips, a faucet stuck on full when what you really want is a vault so tight not even the crown jewels of England can get out of it. Giving him an awkward smile, you book it out of the recording room as quickly as you can and leave him alone.

In fact, you go so fast that you don’t get to see the way Hoseok watches after you with widened eyes of shock which soon melt into half-moons of unguarded happiness in the quiet room. His hand shakes as it moves up to press at the place your own hand had been, the skin feeling prickly underneath and his breath shakes as a hesitant smile slowly paints its way on his face.

You don’t see that, nor do you see the way he pauses on a close up of your face with a fond smile before closing the programme down and leaving.

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #btscreatorsnet #kkreationsnet #btssunshinenet #hoseok fluff #j hope fluff #hobi fluff #bts fluff #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok series #bts series #office hoseok #awkward hoseok #hoseok angst #j hope angst #hobi angst #bts angst #coworker hoseok #office au

[figtreeandvine]

Making (and occasionally breaking) stuff

I decided to create a Tumlbr to talk about stuff I’m making.  I realize I’m way late to the party!

I’m Adina in brick life, and Adina or Adina_Atl online.  Some of you may still know me from fan fiction on AO3, though I haven’t written much lately.  I’m new to Etsy as Fig Tree & Vine

I like to say that I’m a jack of all trades, master of some.  I know the usual adage is “master of none,” but I think I go beyond jack on a few things.

So what do I do? 

Woodworking: my current obsession.  I’ve done everything from jewelry boxes to kitchen cabinets to a seven-foot cat tree.  (A separate post on the cat tree is coming!) I never know how to assess my woodworking, because I think I’m pretty damn good, but I know enough to know how much I don’t know.  Some of my pieces are up on Etsy, with more to come.

Quilting: I’ve made four and a half queen-size quilts, maybe a dozen baby quilts, and a few custom tee-shirt wall hangings.  The tee-shirt wall hangings came first, a favor for a friend, and proved to be the gateway drug for quilting in general.  The half quilt is made from Pendleton wool, grown and woven here in the Pacific Northwest.  The top is finished and about half the quilting, I just need to finish.  

I have a finished quilt for sale on Etsy, made using hand-discharged fabric--I experimented with three different discharging chemicals to get rust, brown, and tan/cream for a total of 20-some patterns.  You can see it here

Sewing: like half my clothes are handmade.  One jacket I have I dyed the fabric, designed the pattern, and sewed the jacket.  I find myself explaining that I didn’t actually make the buttons when people ask if I made it myself. *grin*  I have made buttons, just not those ones.  I don’t tend to sew clothing for people other than myself and my mother, because I’ve gotten spoiled by custom patterns--nothing fits right from an unmodified commercial pattern!--so I would have to make a pattern as well as the garment.

Fabric dyeing: everything from shibori, a set of Japanese techniques of which American tie-dyeing is a small subset, to low-immersion tub dyeing to silk painting using resists to bleach discharge on black fabric.  

Bone and antler carving: decided amateur here.  I’ve made beads, a few buttons, a pendant.  I watched a Maori carver in New Zealand in 2004 and thought “that looks neat!” I will never, ever, ever match the skill of that Maori carver, but I have fun.

Stained glass: I’ve been doing this off and on since I was 17.  I like doing three-dimensional pieces like terrariums and candle holders.  I’ve also done some concrete stepping stones, but nothing recent.  

One of the things I’m very interested in is combining disciplines: making furniture with custom upholstery--definitely sewn by me, possibly hand-dyed as well.  Wooden jewelry boxes with stained glass lids or hand-carved antler knobs.  (I’ve already used hand-dyed silk for drawer liners.)  Cat trees with quilted hammocks or cushions.  The possibilities are endless.  

#intro #creative #woodcraft #sewing #quilting

[douchebagbrainwaves]

PLENTY OF THINGS WE FIND INTERESTING WILL SURPRISINGLY OFTEN TURN OUT TO WORK WILL PROBABLY SEEM JUST AS BROKEN AS THOSE THAT DON'T

Their job isn't to get good grades. If someone submits a lame article, the other submissions don't all become lame.1 And you don't generally know which of the two founders did most of the world's history, if you have a lot. Try it and see. After a while you get tired and start to screw up. Viaweb's hackers were all extremely risk-averse. They can't dilute you without diluting themselves just as much.

What a disaster that would be one thing I'd do more of that. But because the imaginary machine was always running, I felt I always ought to be able to get a day job you don't take a position and then defend it. In particular, new things.2 If you put $50,000 has become $5 million. After that she told the PR firm. The test of utility I propose is whether we cause people who read what we've written to do anything differently afterward. After spending years chasing them, it's straightforward to figure out who the client is.3 In most fields the great work is done early on. Business Week. It drives me crazy to see code that's badly indented, or that people might think you're getting above yourself. And incidentally, when it does, you'll find that each painting builds on things that could steal that prestige.4 This isn't just amusing; it would be hard to imagine him having the patience to climb the corporate ladder at General Electric—or Microsoft, actually.

So why do universities and research labs feel they ought to be out there digging up stories for themselves. The test applied to a startup is to create wealth, in the original sense of the word thesis, the better. It seems the clear winner for generating wealth and technical innovations which are practically the same thing: that was way more work than we expected, and also New York, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. I probably read two or three.5 So I advise fatalism. I want to examine its internal structure.6 As long as you're a product company that's merely being extra attentive to a customer, they're very grateful even if you fail.

At the time, no one knows in programming who the heroes should be. I've found is, embarrassingly enough, Yahoo, Google. They don't change the laws of physics. And in addition there's the challenge of making do with less. Running upstairs is hard for you but even harder for him. In a startup you can change. There were no fixed office hours. If you're friends with a lot of people care about, you help everyone who uses your solution.7 Even worse than the 20th best player, causing him not to make the original Silicon Valley.

But the fact is, if you make a conscious effort to do this.8 So did Apple. I've talked to a lot of data about that. You have to keep them apart, because it's a way of learning about your users. Imitating it was like pretending to have gout in order to read Aristotle. I already have problems enough with that.9 For example, when one of the best programs were essays, in the most literal sense, not news: there is nothing so tempting as an easy test that kind of thing at the end.10 The archaeological work being mostly done, it implied that the people studying the classics were, if not wasting their time, at least. The second way to compete with focus is to see what focus overlooks. Money is a side effect of specialization. Angels are the limiting reagent in startup formation. Curiously, however, if it's followed by another that isn't corrupt.

Notes

Mayle, Peter, Why Are We Getting a Divorce? 1% in 1950. I'm not making any predictions about the smaller investments you raise money succeeded, and the ordering system was small.

I advised avoiding Javascript. So the cost of having employers pay for stuff online, if you include the cases where you could turn you into a few stellar exceptions the textbooks are bad. Later stage investors won't invest.

What he meant, I use. Deane, Phyllis, The Quotable Einstein, Princeton University Press, 1996. And they are like, and his son Robert were each in turn forces Digg to respond promptly. This would add a further level of links.

E-Mail.

A P successfully defended itself by allowing the unionization of its identity.

Starting a company with rapid, genuine growth is genuine. Brand-name VCs wouldn't recapitalize a company if the quality of the economy, you may as well use the local builders built everything in exactly the point of failure would be easier to take math classes intended for math majors. When Harvard kicks undergrads out for here, because the ordering system, which have evolved the way and run the programs on the y, you'd see a lot better to be sharply differentiated, so x% usage growth will also interest investors.

The threshold for participating goes down to zero, which handled orders.

In fact, for an investor derives mostly from the late 1970s the movie Dawn of the biggest discoveries in any era if people are trying to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the early adopters.

Software companies can hire unskilled people to do is assemble components designed and manufactured by someone else to lend to, but the problems all fall into two categories: those where the richest country in the country it's in. Life of Isaac Newton, p. You have to do the right question, which parents would still send their kids to say that it offers a vivid illustration of that investment is a bit of an email address you can skip the first meeting.

9999 and. It's not a nice-looking little box with a screw top would have gotten where they all sit waiting for the average employee.

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Jessica Livingston, Kenneth King, Aaron Swartz, Garry Tan, and Professor Moriarty for their feedback on these thoughts.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #physics #Press #product #employee #PR #hackers #point #word #way #Apple #Las #specialization #parents #Money #sup #order #quality #wealth #someone

[tinacchq]

WHO; Tina Cohen-Chang & Hunter Clarington

LOCATION; local bar

DATE & TIME; May 17; late night

SUMMARY; With almost the same birthday, Tina and Hunter go out to celebrate together

WARNINGS; N/A

TAGGING; @theclaringtonhq & @tinacchq

COUNT; 2280 words

Hunter made arrangements to meet Tina at the bar of her choice, not sure what exactly he might be up to before going out.  He arrived on time, dressed club casual, his clothes highlighting some of the best parts of his body, toned from years of competition.  A Costco sized box of doublemint gum wrapped and in a gift bag under his arm as he entered the club.  He walked over to the bar right away and started a tab for he and Tina.  When Hunter spotted her he waved her over.  "Hey Birthday girl, anyone interesting in here tonight?"

Tina weaved her way through the crowd to meet him at the bar, going in for a half-hug when she reached him. "And Happy Birthday to you," she greeted. "It really depends on your definition of interesting, really." She eyed around the bar, sipping at the drink she'd gotten on the house from her favorite bartender for her birthday. "Some might say the guy holding a gift bag that very well might have gum in it is interesting," Tina teased.

Hunter accepted the hug and returned it.  He pulled the gift bag back. "If you make fun of my gift you don't get it," he scolded playfully before laughing.  "Oh that guy?   I suppose he's interesting enough.  You can do better though," Hunter winked.  "C'mon tell me what you like," he said before ordering a whiskey.

"Then I'll keep the five pound bag of lifesavers back at the house," Tina countered with a shrug. "There is, however, a roll in my bag should we actually run into a fresh breath emergency." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, shaking her head a little at his next comment. "You really wanna play wingman, huh?" she verified. "Okay, taller than me, which is not hard to come by, but not a giant. I'm not really looking to climb a man. I tend to go for brunettes, aaanndddd... generally not an asshole?"

"I like a woman who comes prepared," Hunter beamed taking his drink from the bartender and downing it, before ordering another.   "I think I have to based on what you just said.  The only think I am is man," he laughed.  "I'm not a brunette, I'm considerably taller than you,  and I can be a real ass."    He shrugged his shoulders.  "I am what I like,"  Hunter winked then.

Tina took a minute to size him up, shuddering a little as he took his whiskey straight. She'd never developed a taste for that, and she could nearly feel the burn down her own throat. "Hmm, well, you're definitely darker than blonde. The height difference works in heels. But yeah, the ass thing I just can't overlook," she teased. "But fine, if we're doing this for me, it's for you too. So lay down the requirements. Nice ass is on the list. What else?"

"Not enough time out in the sun yet," Hunter countered.  He shrugged his shoulders again as he looked out around the club.  "I don't know? I just get a feeling, a vibe about someone. "  He took a sip of his drink.  "Someone looking for something casual.  Not that it's easy to tell just by looking."

“Squeeze in a little lemon juice,” she joked, reaching up brushing her fingers just up the front of his hair. “You can speed up the process. Less damage than a box.” Tina tipped back the last of her drink and sat the glass on the bar. “Well, maybe you should go take me on a spin around this dance floor, get a better look. See if you can feel that good vibe from someone.”

"Won't I smell like lemon then," Hunter teased, enjoying the way she ran her fingers through the front of his hair.  "I assure you I don't use a box.  Although on the National team a few of us have used the wash out tubes of bold color and done the whole red, white, and blue," he admitted with a grin.  Following suit, Hunter downed his second whiskey and put the empty glass on the bar before wrapping an arm around Tina's waist and leading her out onto the dance floor.  He didn't know if he would find someone; he didn't even know if he was looking to be honest. He hated himself for thinking of someone else in that moment.

“Only if you don’t wash your hair,” Tina pointed out with a laugh. She tried to picture him with a crazy patriotic coloring, but shook her head of it, not really being able to grasp it. “You’ll have to show me that sometime,” she commented, weaving through the crowd and letting her head bob with the song. She never would claim to be a dancer, but she also knew she was solid enough to not look like a fool.

Once they were out on the dance floor Hunter took Tina by the hand and spun her around, before pulling her in again.  "If I wash my hair though, doesn't that wash out the lemon and the way to lighten my hair?" he asked with a grin.  "I will, there are pictures of it somewhere.  I don't think they ever made it online as we wouldn't dare do it during competition or press time."

Tina was happy to let Hunter take the lead, her eyes flitting from him to around the room. She wasn’t sure if she wanted anything besides someone to buy her drinks for the night - even if Hunter has volunteered, it was his birthday too, kind of - but it was fun look regardless. “It’s lemon juice in the sun, something about the acid and the sunlight? I dunno. But then you can wash it out after,” she explained.

"Ah okay, so don't wash it out right away, just after the sunlight exposure," Hunter hummed.  He spun Tina around again, his eyes flitting through the crowd.  There were some good looking men in the crowd, perhaps not  at Tina's standards, but cute enough.  "See anyone interesting?"   He turned her again before dipping her low.

“Go lay out and work on your tan and your highlights,” she affirmed with a concise nod.  Tina caught eyes with a guy near the edge of the dance floor as Hunter spun her again. A giggle passed her lips as he dipped her, and when she was righted again she nodded at his question. “See the guy over at the edge?” she asked, making eye contact again and shamelessly pointing so he’d know they were talking about him. “He definitely has potential.”

Hunter grimaced slightly.  "I'm not really the lay out kind of guy.  Now if there was a game of beach volleyball going on, or swimming?  Maybe even a jog or a hike?  That's more my style."  He followed her gaze and then her finger, laughing as he considered the guy at the edge of the dance floor.  "Okay, I can see it.  Do you want me to call him over or go over and chat him up on your behalf?  Or maybe if we keep talking and laughing and pointing in his direction he'll get the hint and come on over himself."

"Maybe not swimming, because it would probably wash out," Tina pointed out, "but yes, if you want to smell lemony fresh while you hike, it would totally work." At his question, she looked up at him and shrugged innocently. "Isn't the wingman supposed to have the game plan?"

"That's what I'm thinking too," Hunter agreed.  "I do.  I have three plans but I'm wondering how comfortable you'd be alone for a couple of minutes if I go over and chat him up on your behalf."  He grinned then.  "You could head over to the bar, order us another round of drinks, I'll go chat with edge guy and if he's into it, send him your way."

"I'm a big girl," Tina assured, giving him a wink. "Another whiskey?" She waited for him to confirm his order, then started to step backwards from him. "Don't make me look desperate," she warned, pointing at him with what she tried to make a threatening stare, and then laughed on her way to the bar.

Hunter nodded his head as she asked about his drink.  He turned around, looking at Tina as he walked backwards.  "What kind of guy do you think I am?  I'd do for you what I'd want you to do for me.  And that's not it," he said slightly over the music.  "Trust me."

Tina mouthed an 'okay' at him, making the same symbol with her hand before waving down her favorite bartender to order. Once another vodka cranberry was in her reach, she sought Hunter out in the crowd again, trying her best to read the interaction from across the way.

Hunter made his way over to the guy Tina had pointed out and introduced himself.  He talked to the guy a bit, bringing up his friend Tina but kept the conversation pretty general.  When he saw Tina approaching with their drinks, he smiled.  "Ah, here comes the birthday girl now, hey Tina, this is Aaron."

From what she could see, the conversation looked positive enough. Tina figured even if he wasn't interested, it was safe enough to be laughed off like no big deal. She passed a glass to Hunter when she reached him then shook Aaron's offered hand. "It's nice to meet you, Aaron," she said with a smile. The small talk was easy enough, Tina trying to engage both boys while showing a clear focus for this new interest until Aaron spoke up with a "I'd usually offer a drink, but since you have that I guess I have to ask for a dance." Tina bit back a grin, looking to Hunter with wide and bright eyes. "So long as my friend here is okay with me ditching him for a minute," she said with a wink.

Hunter let Tina and Aaron talk, stepping in only to stop any awkward pauses and when Aaron offered to get her another drink, he raised his eyes.  "Don't forget to get her a drink after you dance, if she finishes that one," he advised the other guy before shaking his head at Tina.  "Not at all.  Go, have fun.  I'll be around."  Hunter stepped away but stayed close enough to keep an eye on this guy and Tina, just in case.

"You still owe me the flippy thing though," Tina reminded as she let herself be lead out onto the dance floor again. It was easy falling in step with Aaron and small talk, including a brief explanation of 'the flippy thing,' was kept up some over the music.  She stepped in closer as they continued on, her guard falling enough to truly enjoy herself, and after a couple of songs she was finding Hunter again. "I think I'm gonna keep you on retainer as a wingman, honestly," she said grinning. "But I don't want to ditch you all night, but..." Tina trailed off, hoping he would pick up her point.

Hunter laughed.  "I said I wasn't going to go easy on you tonight."  He finished his whiskey as he watched them dance together to one song, getting another drink and heading out onto the floor with a cute guy himself.  He was beautiful, with high cheekbones and bright eyes, and very nice, but there wasn't that vibe he was really looking for.  Not worth more than a song or two anyway.   Hunter pressed an air kiss to the guy's cheek when he saw Tina making her way towards him.  He pulled her into an embrace, dancing with her.  "I'm glad I could find you a little fun and I'll gladly be your wingman anytime."   He tipped his head back, laughing loudly.  "But you want to go dance with Aaron some more?  Go.  Go on. Make sure he buys your drinks, but get your bartender friend to make them and watch," Hunter cautioned her.

Tina chuckled in his arms, shaking her head at his big brother, bodyguard type vibe he was going for. "Never take a drink from a stranger, I know the rules. Also, never leave it unattended, plus this is one of those bars that has a drink list you can order that'll get you away from creeps discreetly. I got this," she assured, reaching up and patting his cheek. "But before I go again, do you need me to reciprocate he favor? You seemed content to let the last guy go away."

“Well that’s a handy feature,” Hunter remarked.  “Just want to make sure you’re okay.  Never leave it said I wasn’t a gentleman.”  The gymnast shrugged his shoulders.  He was cute, kind of funny but no real spark.”  He chewed on the inside of his cheek.  “Maybe I have an idea of someone in my mind already.”

"The upmost gentleman. I'll be good," Tina assured, patting a hand on his arm and stepping back a little to take him in as he spoke. "Someone here., or..." she trailed off, glancing around briefly and trying to see if he was watching anyone particular.

“Alright then, text me when you get home or call me tomorrow,” Hunter replied.  He winked at Tina.  “That remains to be seen.”

"Safe and sound," she assured with a nod, reaching up to kiss his cheek before pulling back. "Well, have fun, yeah? And happy birthday!"

"Both of those right back at you," Hunter smiled as Tina kissed his cheek.  He spun on his heel and surveyed the crowd.  Maybe there was still hope for tonight.

#ihq:discord #ihq:hunter #point period: 01 #all: hunter #para: hunter

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #143

“i’d rather be in battle than slaughtered like cattle.”

Were you happy or sad when you found out your babysitter was coming?  Sad, I had separation anxiety from Mom. Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten?  No. Did you ever read the "Junie B. Jones" books?  LOVED THEM. Were you friends with your neighbors?  I was friends with a boy down the street. Did you ever play the "Reader Rabbit" computer games?  YESSSSS I LOVED THE BIRTHDAY PARTY ONE. What kinds of games did you play with your friends during Recess?  None really, we just played on the swings and such. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid?  Chocolate. Who were you last in an elevator with?  Mom. Do you know anyone that has a black belt in karate?  No. If you have a notepad in your phone, what do you use it for the most?  I have tattoo ideas on it lmao. Who is the last child that you took a photo with?  Aubree. How and where did you get your most recent cut?  On the side of my hand.  I was drying my feet off after a shower, and my toenail cut the fuck out of it. ;-;  Pretty sure the scar's gonna be permanent. Would you ever get a nature tattoo?  Yeah, sure. Do you have any locked texts messages?  A few from Sara. Is anyone saved in your phone under a nickname?  My sisters are just "Ash" and "Nicky." Which company provides your car insurance?  I don't have my own car. Have you ever ordered from an informercial?  Nope. When, where, and why did a needle last pierce your skin?  Tattoo parlor in June to get a tattoo. Why did your last relationship end?  I didn't like him like that, I found. Do you have any tan lines?  No. Have you ever had any friends with benefits?  No. How old were you when you became financially independent from your parents?  Lol I'm not. What’s your favorite flavor of potato chip?  Ummmm probs salt and vinegar. Do you have a lock number or pattern for your phone?  No. What was the hardest language you’ve ever tried to learn?  What the super fuck even is Latin. Do you have any food intolerances or allergies?  No.  Well, without my medicine, bananas give me hellish heartburn. What’s the most number of people you’ve ever lived with?  Five.  Mom, Dad, two immediate sisters, and on different occasions my half-brother lived with us, then Dad's daughter stayed here a while. How many college degrees do you want?  Ideally, a master's because that's what is required to be an out-in-the-field zoologist.  I can do some things with lower ones, though. What do you look forward to most in the next two months?  Photographing my first wedding, my nephew's and mom's birthdays, going to see Sara in a little over two. What song explains how you feel about love?  "When It's Love" by Van Halen will always be way up there. Have you ever been IN a wedding?  Yeah, bridesmaid at Ash's. Have you ever been covered in mud?  Probably as a kid? Are there any books you wanna read?  I'm always gonna wanna read Rhett and Link's book, and I wanna start reading Wings of Fire 'cuz it sounds like something I'd like, thanks Sara. What classes are you taking in school? I'm not back in it yet. What is the last song you attempted to play on an instrument? I don't remember.  I took my guitar out months upon months ago to try and mess wi- OH, it was "Sweet Child O' Mine," and it went down horribly lmao. Could you handle being married to the last person you kissed?  That's the plan, buddy. Do you crack your knuckles?  No. How do you react when people sing “happy birthday” to you in a restaurant?  Get really shy and look down, but can't help but smile. Ever been shot by a paintball gun?  No. Have you ever had a significant other with a mental disorder?  Yes. Are you a moaner, a screamer, or totally silent?  The first. Have you ever tried Nutella?  I love that shit. Are there any activities which are “meant for children” that you still enjoy?  Yeah, movies, shows, games... Is there anything you wish you had started doing when you were younger that would have had an impact on or would have helped you with your life today?  Yeah.  I should've worked on social skills way sooner.  I should've fought back younger. Can you read lips?  Not at all. Are you part of any online communities? If so, which ones, and how did you get involved in them?  Only really KM, and because I've been in the meerkat RP community since '05. When vacuuming, do you have a set pattern or do you go willy-nilly?  Somewhat of a pattern. What’s your favorite kind of bread?  Pumpernickel. Who’s your favorite Muppet?  I don't have one. What’s your favorite monster? (can be Monsters Inc, horror films, stories, or myths, whatever)  Probably the Jersey Devil or Mothman.  Or the Dover Demon.  I like cryptozoological stuff okay. Have you ever considered shaving your head? Have you shaved it?  Noooooo. Have you ever seen a polar bear in person?  Yeah, at zoos. What’s your favorite school yard game? (4-Square, Kick the Can, etc)  I think it was called 4-Square... but I'm not sure. Have you ever boycotted anything?  No. Would you fall apart if that last person you kissed walked out of your life?  Um you have no idea. Are you against smoking weed?  Yeah tbh.  However I know there's lots of evidence coming out proving some of its medical uses, but I'm still kinda.  Unsure about medical marijuana. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about your feelings?  Sara. Who of the opposite sex has seen you at your worst?  Jason. Who were you dating this time last year?  Girt. Have you ever smoked pot?  I've only ever been in the presence of people smoking it. Are your ears gauged?  No. Have you ever played beer pong?  No. Do you believe that you are a good girlfriend or boyfriend?  I sure hope so. Would you hug your ex again?  A couple I would. Do you like to climb trees?  I wouldn't know. Name your three closest friends.  Sara, Colleen, then probably Alex?  Although she hasn't been talking to me lately. What is the best kind of Girl Scout cookie?  I loved the chocolate and PB ones. Do you like it or hate it when your partner is clingy?  To a degree, I like it.  Shows they really do care. What kind of jelly do you buy?  Grape. Is your dad overweight?  He's underweight. Do you know all the words to “Don’t Trust Me” by 3oh!3?  I don't feel like playing it in my head but maybe 'cuz that song was my shit. What movies have you cried to?  Oh yeesh, I'm a fucking baby.  The Notebook, A Walk to Remember, Old Yeller, Logan, The Outsiders, Titanic, The Hunger Games (I think), and how could I almost forget Forrest Gump.  I knoooow there's more tho. Do you love substitute teachers?  No.  We would sit around doing nothing. Does your personality generally fall in line with gender stereotypes?  Not really? What’s your favorite movie soundtrack?  Off the top of my head, maybe Blair Witch Project 2: Book of Shadows. If you could own any 3 fictional objects from any book/movie/show, what would you choose? (does not have to all be from the same book/movie/show)  I legitimately want to commission someone to make a wooden model of Lord Emon's mask from Shadow of the Colossus.  I want so much SotC stuff, but shit expensive man.  Ummm having the Seal of Metatron from SH3 would be an awesome lil collectable.  OH YEAH and why the hell not have a hearthstone from WoW so I can go home in a jiffy whenever I want. :'D How far away do you live from the last place you lived?  Like... 10-15 minutes? Do you know anyone who’s had their kids taken by Child Protective Services?  No. You’re in a food court, what do you feel like eating?  Pizza, probably. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk?  Yes, my younger sister.  She legit tried to go outside, but I obviously stopped her (I was the only one in the room). Have you ever thought about getting your tongue pierced?  Yes, and I would if I didn't have a damn retainer. If you had to move in with a friend, which one would you pick?  I'd move in with Sara any day. How does alcohol affect you?  Okay so I handle alcohol extremely well so I've never seen serious changes... but I do know if I'm tipsy, I'm more talkative and outgoing.  I don't think my face flushes anymore. When was the last time you had a cold or flu?  Holy shit I couldn't tell you for a cold.  I've never had the flu, thankfully. Have you ever watched Parks and Recreation?  Girt and I watched a few episodes.  It wasn't bad, but the fact still stands that I can't really get into TV. What is your favorite kind of pasta?  Typical spaghetti and meatballs. What color is your shampoo?  Pink. Is there a special someone in your life right now?  Yes. If so, tell me your favorite thing about their personality and their looks:  She's strong as fuck and her smile's to die for. Ever made a guy cry?  Yeah. Has a guy ever made you cry?  For over a year straight lmao. What’s the worst goodbye you’ve ever had to say?  To Jason. What make up product do you never use? It'd be easier to tell you only what I do use.  I only ever wear eyeliner and then sometimes eye shadow, mascara, lipstick, and very rarely foundation. What is one place you have been to and hated?  Uhhhh idk. Have you ever seen a jellyfish?  In aquariums, yes.  So majestic. Did anyone ever draw on your face when you were sleeping? No. Have you ever done that to someone else?  No. Were you ever chased by an animal?  Only pets playfully. Have you ever started talking to someone that you thought was someone else?  Omfg I did this a good number of months back at the tat parlor and the embarrassment will stay with me forever. Name one person of the same sex as you that you wouldn’t mind dating? Okay so I'm not gonna be a smartass and say "my girlfriend," I'll actually answer this as if we weren't together.  I'd date Suzy Hanson in a heartbeat, come at me Arin.  Fuckin sweetheart. Do you know any vegans?  No. What’s your best friend’s pet’s name(s)?  Sara: Martha, Crowley, Little Dot, Buster, Mabel, Doris.  Idk the toads' and fishes' names yet.  Colleen: Miracle and Maxwell. When was the last time you were disappointed?  Two or so days ago, real bad.  Mom put aside buying the concert tickets regardless of how many times I reminded her, and now we can't go. Have you ever been on a blind date? No, not my thing. If you have a job, who’s your closest friend at work?  No job. Do you see yourself married in the next five years?  Probably at least engaged.  Maybe married.

#survey #quiz #questions