#i was going for a short reply but I guess this is mid-length

[rottenblur]

Study break|J.MILLER| part four

Summary: After that intense brunch date with the Millers, Joel had been ignoring you. What better way to get your mind off him than to get drunk and make out with a stranger. Would you do it again if you knew you were gonna get caught?

Warnings: Alcohol, implied thigh riding, making out with a stranger, getting caught hehehe, jealous! Joel, thigh touching by said stranger, weed, truck sex, reader fails to give joel road head, over the clothes touching (reader to joel) crossfaded reader. Smut MOST SMUT IVE WROTE FOR THIS SERIES, joel fighting some guy for you, angry!joel unprotected sex (use a condom plz) violence for like two seconds

“You’re a lethal fuck baby.”

Three long, fucking cruel days of Joel ignoring you, he set you in place and just expected you to be okay with being high and dry.

You responded to his text, he read it and didn’t respond. He makes breakfast every morning, not even glancing at you once.

A fucking asshole. It was infuriating, you keep messaging him hoping he will respond but, nope he leaves you on delivered, as if you aren’t living in the same house.

You pass him in the hallways late at night when you can’t sleep, yet he never responds more than a “hm” to your desperate “hey”.

On a late Saturday night, you and Sarah are laying around, scrolling through your phones till she gets a notification.

“Hey..you wanna go to a party?”

You look over to her, turning off your phone.

Honestly, anything to forget Joel was a good idea in your books. Didn’t matter at what cost, or where… with who.

“Yeah..i guess” You replied.

Her face lights up and she almost mauls you, pulling you into the tightest hug you’ve ever felt.

“REALLY??? My baby is growing up so fast, she kisses your forehead.

“I dont have any party clothes tho, Wore my only dress yesterday.” You pull her off of you to look at her.

She looks at you, gets up and walks over to her closet.

“Are you fucking kidding me, I got everything you could ever want in here.”

You sigh, walk over and start looking through her dresses. None in sight that are even close to knee length.

I mean what’s better to get over a guy by getting drunk in a slutty outfit, and fucking a stranger?

You and Sarah both decide on a outfit, yours a purple mini dress with rhinestone straps that glimmer in the light.

Sarah’s a flowy floral, white dress, honestly she would look like a angel if it wasn’t so short.

“Jeez Sarah I look more like a slut than you do, that’s new.” You say as you both admire each other in a body length mirror.

You spend the next fifteen minutes listening to music and doing your makeup.

When you both look like you should be working a street corner, officially you’re ready to go to a shitty frat party.

You and Sarah grab your phones and head down stairs. Joel and tommy are leaning on the kitchen island looking over some blue prints with a beer in hand.

“We are going to a party so don’t wait up.” She smiles and gives them a twirl showing off her outfit, they both smile then both of their gazes fall on you.

They are staring at you like you’re their prey. Fucking devouring you with their eyes.

Joel’s eyes fall on the hem of your dress, falling just above mid thigh, he furrows his brows and adverts his gaze.

“Yeah alright, text me if you need a ride.” He practically mumbles then tommy pipes in.

“Shit Sarah you’ve converted her.” He laughs and sips his beer.

“Oh shut up, she’s the one that wanted to go.” Sarah says while shoving on a pair of heels.

You look at Joel to see his reaction, it for sure wasn’t a happy one. “Thanks for the ride offer, Mr. Miller.” You wanted it to hurt. When you bend over to pick up your shoes, you made god damn sure he saw your dress ride up revealing the black lace of your panties.

You can hear a grunt as you slip on your shoes and stand back up, rolling your eyes when his catch yours.

You shut the door behind you and you’re off.

Arriving at the party, groups of people are gathered on the lawn. The music is so loud you can hear it from the sidewalk, what the fuck. What the fuck were you doing at a college frat party with Sarah, willingly.

You brush away your shame and step inside. Guys with bass pro hats, covering a horrible mullet. Dressed head to toe in carhartt, the cherry on top is the timberland boots.

Every single god damn one of them looked the same, then one catches your eye.

A guy dressed head to toe in black, other than a green flannel, fucking perfect. He looked like he was only here for the free liquor, probably was best friends with one of these yee haw mother fuckers as a kid.

The only possible reason you could imagine why he would be here, a fucking frat.

You search the liquor table for something other than white claws or bud light, a bottle of jack daniel’s catching your eye, bingo. You grab the bottle screwing the cap open and taking a sip, you wipe your mouth.

A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around, it wasn’t Sarah, she was long gone talking to one of her boy toys.

It was a tall, mullet bass pro wearing mother fucker. Jesus you didn’t have time nor patience for them tonight.

“Hey girl, you can’t just take the whole-“

You flip him off and walk towards your target boy toy. If he was in a band, you’d gladly be his groupie.

Another swig of whiskey to calm your nerves and you’re strutting over to him. He’s perched on a large window sill nursing a cigarette, a bong laid carefully by his feet. Probably the only stoner in here.

You approach him and think of the easiest way to pick up a conversation, got it.

“Hey, can i bum one off ya’?” He looks away from the open window and smiles at you. “For sure, cutie.” He reaches into his pocket pulling out a pack of marlbaro golds and offers it to you.

You take one, putting it between your lips. He sits up, making room for you, you sit down next to him.

He leans in, lighting your cigarette with his. You inhale, pulling away and exhaling the smoke.

“You aren’t one of those frat girls are you?” You laugh at his comment, shaking your head and inhaling once again.

“Nah, my friend dragged me here.”

A lie, but he doesn’t know any better. Saying that you actually wanted to come to this stupid party would do you no good to a guy like this.

He puts the cigarette between his lips, and shifts to pick up the bong.

“You want some? It’s some quad shit really good.” He pulls out a bag from his flannel, packing about a half ounce of weed in it. I mean, fuck it.

You nod your head, picking up the whiskey bottle chugging a good amount and passing it to him, he declines. “What’s your name anyways?”

He takes a nug out, grinds it onto his hand, pitches it and puts it into the bowl.

“Tyler.” He lights the bowl filled to the top with purple and green weed, inhaling till the weed goes through, he pulls out the bowl and inhales the smoke.

A slight cough into his sleeve and he’s passing the bong to you. You take a swig of liquid courage, not that you needed it at all.

The music is slurred, the only features you can make out on his face is his long black hair, his dark brown eyes and a eyebrow piercing. God imagine if his name mattered, if you would even remember it tomorrow.

You pinch the remaining bits of bud, putting it into the bowl. He looks to you, putting out his cigarette onto the hardwood floor. You’re sure the frat DEFINITELY loves this guy.

You take one last drag of your cigarette, passing it to him and taking his lighter.

“How’d you get invited to this anyways, you don’t look like a frat asshole.” You point to his outfit.

He lights the bowl, you inhale. “Yeah i sell some of these assholes shitty overpriced weed.” He laughs, you finish the bowl and set the bong down, he takes a slow drag off your cigarette.

What he said hits you, so does the weed. You bust out laughing, so hard you start coughing.

“I only give pretty girls like you the good shit.”

Oh shit. Mixing the amount of whiskey you had plus the weed was a bad idea. At least you weren’t thinking about Joel.

“Fuck, you’re too sweet, too hot.” You slur.

He passes back the cigarette to you, everything was so calm. You almost forgot where you were for a second, you were fucked up.

You take a drag off the cigarette, throwing it onto the floor, stomping it with your shoe. He smiles at you, then leans in, dodging your lips and going straight for your neck.

He kisses up and down your neck, sucking every couple kisses, he dips down where your dress falls. Right on your tits. He shoves a hand in your dress dancing around your inner thigh, you let out a whimper when his thumb grazes your clit.

Fuck was it the alcohol or was it hot in here.

Then you remember exactly why you don’t drink, your stomach turns upside down. You pull his head away from your neck, smiling to him.

“Hey, I’ll be right back.”

He smiles and nods, picking up the bong as you walk away, stumble away would be more realistic.

You take the bottle with you, running up the crowded stairs and search for a bathroom.

A open door, no one occupying it with a quickie either, bingo. You walk in, pulling out your phone searching through your contacts with blurry vision.

You take a sip, sit yourself on the floor as the phone beeps. To your surprise, they answered.

“Hey, what’s up.” You can hear the mumbles of tv in the background.

You look at your phone, fuck. You swore you called Tommy, not fucking Joel.

It was late too, he was staying up to pick you and Sarah up, such a sweetheart wait no you’re mad at him, what a fucking dick.

“Fuck i meant to call Tommy mm b-“ He cuts you off before you can finish your slurred words.

“Nah, he’s asleep I’m all ya get. Sarah ready too? You sound pretty fuckin’ ready.” He states, did you ready sound that bad?

You sigh and take a gulp of liquor, setting the bottle on the floor and answer. “Yeahhh I dont know where she is, pretty sure she’s with a guy-“ You pick the bottle back up, taking another sip. “Call her yourself bro” You say giggling at your words.

You can almost picture his face when you said that, fingers pinched on his nose bridge, furrowed brows.

“Bro? Who the fuck are you talkin’ to darlin’? I’m leavin now.”

He hangs up the phone, you shove your phone back into your bag, take one last sip of your bottle and head back downstairs.

You’re on top of whatever his name was, you’d already forgotten. Too drunk to have shame, too high to care who it was.

You can feel how hard he was, kissing him was basically just teeth and spit.

You were desperate for each other. If you got up now there would be a wet spot on his black jeans, from you or him, No one knows. Your hips uncontrollably rub against him, your dress riding up for the whole fucking party to see.

You hear your name be called faintly through the pounding of loud music and talking. Then a tap on your shoulder from a rough large hand, oh fuck.

You turn your head to look, your face met with a broad chest in a black t shirt, you look up. Fuck.

“C’mon time to go.” He’s fucking fuming.

Tyler pulls your face back for another kiss, you’re lifted off him like you don’t weigh shit.

“The fuck is this? Your dad or something?” He remarks.

Joel laughs. “What are you 19 or something? Fucking kid.” He mumbles, You stumble aside. Joel steps towards him, tyler stands up, boner and pre cum stain for everyone to see.

“Who the fuck are you old man?” He spits out and goes to grab your arm.

Joel hits him, he falls back with a bloody nose. Probably broken. He was a skinny alternative boy and Joel was you know Joel.

“Wanna try to touch her again?” He picks him up by his collar, you’re frozen in spot. It was kinda hot, him fighting some guy for you.

“Jesus man are you her fucking boyfriend or something, she came onto me. Guess your old ass can’t hit it right.” He should have just left it alone.

“Hey, shut the fu-“ Joel looks at you and before you could finish your sentence, Tyler was on the floor with a fucked up face. You could hear the crunch of his bones against Joel’s strong fist.

Joel grabs your arm and starts pulling you out of the party. “What the fuck was that, Joel seriously?”

He looks at you, adjusts your dress and pulls you towards his truck. “I fuckin’ told you darlin’.”

He picks you up, putting you into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt and slamming the door. “Told me-“ He walks over to the driver side and hops in.

“What the fuck did you tell me? That bullshit with Tommy?”

He doesn’t say anything, just starts driving. You huff to yourself and take off your shoes.

You get to a stop light, he looks at you. “Yeah, wasn’t bullshit. So much for being mine right?” His grip on the steering wheel tightened, was it Tyler or were you soaking fucking wet over how angry Joel was right now.

“You were fucking ignoring me, you think I don’t want you? Even now.”

He looks at you and the light turns green.

“I was ignoring you ‘cause—“ He looks away, his knuckles white against the black leather of the wheel. “-I can’t fucking control myself no more.” He sighs.

He looks back to you, looking you up and down.

“God did you have to dress so slutty?” His hips rut up, you had him exactly where you wanted him, or at least where drunk you wanted him.

You blush, reaching your hand to the growing bluge in his grey sweatpants, showing you everything you could ever want to see.

His breath hitches. “Fuck, you’re drunk.”

You smile at him and start rubbing him through his pants, he looks down.

A dark wet spot grows on his pants, god he was perfect.

“Darlin’ I can’t drive if you keep doing that.”

You nod and pull his dick out of his pants, his tip was angry and leaking. You thumb his tip, dragging the pre cum down his length pulling a groan out of him.

He looks at you, you unbuckle your seatbelt and adjust in your seat, leaning over to him. You spit on his tip and force him down your throat.

“Fuck- Jesus.” He grunts out.

You bob your head up and down trying to take him all in your mouth, working the rest with your hands, you can feel the car speeding up.

When you feel him about to cum down your throat, he pulls you off and parks the car. You look around, you’re at the bottom of his street, thank god it was too late for anyone to be awake.

“Look we can’t—“ he cuts himself off, looking at your dripping mouth, your dripping cunt peeking out from your dress.

“-Fuck it, come ‘ere.” He adjusts his seat, making room for you, leaning back his seat slightly. Your first time with Joel fucking Miller was gonna be in his truck.

You climb onto his lap, straddling him. He looks at you, reaches down and rubs your clit through your panties.

“Look at ya, all fuckin’ soaked for me” He pushes your panties to the side, pulling you up and notching his tip to your slit. Your breath hitches and you look at him with furrowed brows.

He leans in connecting your lips with his, then pushes his tip into you with a grunt. He disconnects your lips with a sigh. “You’re such a tease.” He grabs your face, making you look at him as he thrusts all the way in you, splitting you apart.

“Fuck—you’re too big.” You shut your eyes, working through the stretch of him.

“Look at me baby.” He fucks into you without remorse, a steady pace with no mercy.

You can feel him in your stomach, he pulls you back into a kiss. You’re moaning into his mouth and his balls are slapping onto your ass such a filthy sound.

He reaches his hand down, oh fuck. Was it the alcohol or could you come right fucking now.

“Oh fuck Joel—mm like that” You mumble into his mouth, he’s fucking you dumb. His fingers find the perfect pace bringing you to your orgasm.

He pulls away from the kiss looking at you with those beautiful, soft brown eyes, and scrunched up face. “Shit darlin’, wanna feel you cum all ‘round this dick.” He groans as his hips pick up a unbearable pace, his tip kissing your cervix with each stroke.

You whimper, and with a nod from him you’re coming fully undone around him, fucking you through your high.

“Fuck you’re squeezing my dick so fuckin’ good.” When you’re coming down from your high, pulsing all around him, his face relaxes and he pulls out. Pulling up your dress, jerking himself till thick white ropes pour all over your lower stomach and clit.

“Jesus.” Is all you can breathe out.

He kisses your forehead, and looks you up and down, blush covered cheeks, sticky white ropes now ruining Sarah’s dress and your panties.

He was out of breath, he looked more fucked than you. You ruffle his hair and climb off him.

“So what are we gonna do now?” You say looking over at him as he pulls up his pants, He looks at you in bliss.

“We do it again. You’re a lethal fuck baby.”

Taglist: @paleidiot @slvbl

(Comment to be added to taglist)

Masterlist: here

Part three: here

Part five: coming soon..

AN: probably wouldn’t have finished this if SOMEONE ( @slvbl ) DIDNT BULLY ME INTO IT. I hope y’all enjoy this. The smut is kinda short but ANGY joel MAKES ME HAPPY. I named tyler after a guy that ghosted me on tinder LITTLE DID HE KNOW HE WOULD BE GETTING BEAT UP IN MY FIC MWAHAHAHAH lmk how yall feel bout this part yall need to get into my inbox i need inspiration 😘

#joel miller #rottenblur #joel miller tlou hbo #joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #study break!joel #study break series #study break!tommy #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel x reader smut #best friends dad joel #best friends dad! joel #bestfriends dad joel #joel tlou #joel miller x fem #tlou joel miller #tlou joel #smut #bestfriends dad!joel x reader #bfd!joel x reader #tlou hbo #bestfriends dad!joel #bfd!joel #forbidden romance

[notsoinnocentlittleangel]

Knowing Your Partner Can Make Writing Together Easier!

repost-y, no reblog-y

Name? Unknown

Pronouns? I'm male, guess.

Communication Preference? I have a Discord, but I've only ever seen one other person using it in at least 5 years, so IMs here.

Muses’ Names? Joanna is the only one here. I have other blogs, though. Links are on the pinned post somewhere.

Best Experience? I don't know if I can say one best experience. I did get more excited in the early days when things started taking off, and it's nice when people seem interested, though I'm not one to get overly excited and do that weird thing where people type a bunch of random letters in the tags or things like that.

Pet Peeves? I'm more easily annoyed than I should be but try to keep it to myself if it's not something very important. Very much formatting will always bug me. I'm not wasting time trying to read something because you thought it looked "cute" or whatever.

Muse Preferences? Is this meant to be ones I write? That's how I'm taking it. I have a tendency to write characters who are a little morally ambiguous, who had rough childhoods, usually have good fighting skills (Joanna is the rare exception). And for some reason, most character ideas I have are female.

Plotting or Winging It? I usually wing it, because I've had very little success plotting with others, though there have been a few times in recent memory it worked out. I'd like to do more, though a part of me likes the surprises that come from making it up as we go, too. Because of that, even in the rare plotted RP, I like there to be a bit of surprise.

Long or Short Replies? Mid-length. I usually prefer something more than a sentence but not multiple paragraphs, though it depends on the RP. Very action-heavy RPs often need shorter responses. But mostly, I just want the length to tell what's needed less than hitting any specific length. If you can write it out in three sentences, go with that, if it takes 12, write that.

Best Time To Write? I usually write at night, though I wonder sometimes if I'd do better writing in the morning. I have a lot of good ideas when I first wake up.

Are You Like Your Muse? Joanna and I have a few things in common, but overall, I wouldn't say so. She's much more emotional, reactive, wild and willing to bend rules than me. We share an interest in racing, like some of the same music and food (though she likes a wider variety than me), and have similar outlooks on some things about life and family relationships.

Tagged by: @reevezs

Tagging: All who read this must do it. I have decreed it, it is decreed.

#OOC

[btsqualityy]

Blood On The Dance Floor: Chapter 4

Hoseok x Reader

Genre/Rate: 18+, established relationship, thriller, fatal attraction!AU (kind of, but with major changes), smut, angst, and fluff.

Summary: Hobi goes to the annual HYBE Christmas party, and gets the shock of his life.

Warnings: A forced kiss (two, for that matter)

WC: 2.3K

“Are you sure that you’re ok with this?” Hobi wondered and you smiled fondly as you stepped up to him, reaching out to fix the collar of the black dress shirt that he was wearing. It was a week before Christmas and HYBE was holding their annual Christmas party, and all of the employees as well as their guests were invited to come.

“There’s no sense in you staying home too just because I’m sick,” you told him. “It’s a Christmas party where you’re supposed to be merry and I’d just be a drag.”

“I don’t want to just leave you here alone though,” he sighed. 

“Please, I’ll be glad for the break because you smother me when I’m sick,” you teased. 

“Well excuse me for being worried about you,” Hobi huffed, making you laugh at him. 

“I want you to stop worrying for one night and go have fun,” you told him before leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m serious. We’ll go out together for New Years, since I’ll hopefully be feeling better by then.”

“Alright,” Hobi relented. “But you call me if you need me and I mean it. Whatever it is, don’t hesitate.”

“Ok, I will,” you promised. “Now go before you’re late.” After a few more reassurances from you and some last kisses, Hobi managed to pull himself away from you, grab his jacket and keys, and leave the house.

After a short drive, he made it to the HYBE building and walked inside to one of the large conference rooms that had been cleared of the meeting tables and replaced with a large makeshift dance floor, smaller tables and a bar, where he was instantly pulled aside by Jimin and Namjoon. 

“Look who finally made it to the party!” Jimin cheered as he threw his arm around Hobi’s shoulder. 

“How many drinks have you had, Jimin?” Hobi chuckled. 

“He’s about six drinks in at this point,” Namjoon reported. “You want to play catch up? The bar is free.”

“Sign me up,” Hobi smiled and soon enough, Jimin was pressing a drink into his hand as they went to sit together at one of the smaller tables.

“It’s so nice to finally unwind,” Jimin said, his words slightly slurred. “Working with Girls On Fire has melted my damn brain.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard Goyoung is a little firecracker,” Namjoon said. 

“She’s a damn demon, that’s what she is,” Jimin huffed. “It’s a wonder I’m not an alcoholic yet.”

“Is she really?” Hobi wondered. 

“Yoongi hyung said that she’s a know it all, even though she’s still technically a rookie,” Namjoon replied. 

“But she trained for 5 years so I guess it’s understandable why she’s like that,” Jimin muttered. “Still doesn’t mean she’s not a pain in my ass though.”

“You’re a mess, Jiminie,” Hobi cooed as he reached over and affectionately ruffled Jimin’s hair, making Jimin splutter and push his hands away. 

“Holy shit,” Namjoon gasped, making Hobi turn to look at him and he saw that Namjoon’s jaw was literally dropped. Following Namjoon’s gaze towards the door, Hobi’s own eyes widened when he saw Lee Bora standing there. She had on a skin tight, black cocktail dress that only reached her mid thigh. She also had on sparkly black heels, silver jewelry, and her shoulder length hair was curled into loose waves.

“God damn,” Jimin whistled, the three of them watching as Bora waltzed into the room and began to speak to different people. “I had no idea Bora had a body like that.”

“You never see it under her sweats,” Hobi chuckled. 

“She’s coming over here, cut it out,” Namjoon said and all three of them looked up just in time to see Bora approaching their table.

“Hi guys,” Bora smiled, bowing lightly to them. 

“Hi Bora,” Namjoon greeted her. 

“Hi,” Hobi said. 

“Hey Bora,” Jimin grinned goofily. “You look fantastic.”

“Thank you,” Bora blushed as she looked down at her dress. “Since it’s a Christmas party, I thought I’d get a little fancy.”

“Fancily fucked,” Jimin muttered, yelping when Namjoon kicked him underneath the table. 

“I see the party has gotten into full wing already, though,” Bora noted. 

“Yeah, no one wastes time when there’s free alcohol involved,” Hobi joked. “Would you like me to get you a drink?”

“Yes please,” she nodded with a smile. Hobi got up to get her a drink while Bora took his seat at the table with Jimin and Namjoon. It took Hobi a while to get the drink because of the sheer amount of people standing at the bar at the same time but once he finally got it, he made it back to the table to find that Bora was the only one still there. 

“Where did those two knuckleheads run off to?” Hobi wondered as he handed Bora’s glass to her before sitting down next to her. 

“Jimin ran off with Sunyoung and Yoongi-ssi came over and started talking to Namjoon-ssi about some songs,” Bora responded as she rolled her eyes. “Who talks about work at a Christmas party?”

“I can see why they would,” Hobi shrugged. “I mean, I’m holding myself back from asking you if we should change the spin move in Star Turn’s second chorus.”

“That move doesn’t look as good on camera as we thought it would, huh?” She said and Hobi nodded his head. “But no work talk!”

“Agreed,” Hobi laughed. 

“So, where’s Y/N?” 

“At home sick,” he replied. “I almost didn’t come tonight but she convinced me to.”

“Aw, well I hope she feels better,” Bora murmured. 

“What about you? No date?”

“Eh, I have my eye on someone but it might be too soon to do anything about it,” she told him. 

“Hey, in my experience, the best thing is just to go for it,” Hobi advised her.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “There’s no use in spending your life wondering, what if, you know? Just do it.”

“Ok, thanks Hobi,” Bora beamed. The DJ put on a new song then, and Jimin rushed back over to the table excitedly. 

“Come and dance with us, you two!” He chirped. “Don’t just sit here all night!”

“Let’s go before he literally drags us over,” Hobi laughed, making Bora do the same as they stood up and followed Jimin over to the dance floor. The song playing was one of the newest songs from HYBE’s top girl group, Girls on Fire. Nearly everyone knew the choreography which was slightly suggestive, and the men on the dance floor cheered when the women began to emulate the moves. 

Though Bora didn’t choregraph the song, she was executing the dance effortlessly, winding her hips with so much force that the hem of her already short dress began to rise up her thighs. Hobi just rolled his eyes when he noticed how the men standing around him were literally foaming at the mouth over the sight of Bora’s skin, and it didn’t make him miss the days of being single one bit. 

After a few minutes, the song ended and a new one came on, this one from a male soloist and definitely more sensual with a slow, pulsing beat. 

“Dance with me Hobi,” Bora called out and Hobi nodded, allowing her to grab his hands and pull him closer to her. They danced facing each other for a little while, doing a sort of simple two step and it was fine. Nothing special, even.

Until Bora turned around and began to slowly back up towards Hobi. 

Hobi was so immersed in the song and dancing to it, he didn’t even realize what was happening until Bora’s ass was pressed up against his crotch. Bora reached behind herself and grabbed Hobi’s hands again, this time setting them on her hips. Hobi’s eyes widened and he lifted his head, looking around to see if anyone had noticed them. Luckily, about 98% of the people in attendance were drunk off their asses and in their own little worlds. 

Namjoon suddenly motioned to Hobi, catching his attention and making him look over at him. Namjoon’s eyebrows were raised and he mouthed “what are you doing?”, and that’s when Hobi realized how he and Bora must’ve looked together. He abruptly tore his hands away from Bora’s hips and took several large steps back, putting as much space in between them as possible. 

“Hobi?” Bora called out in confusion as she turned around to look at him but he just shook his head.

“I have to...go to the bathroom,” he muttered before turning around and rushing through the room to the bathroom. He walked over to the counter where the sink was, placing his hands on top and looking at his reflection in the mirror. 

“What the fuck was that?” Hobi huffed, shaking his head in disbelief before he headed over to the urinal to relieve himself. As he did so, he heard the door open and a few seconds later, felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. 

“Hobi,” a familiar voice purred and Hobi glanced over his shoulder, a gasp escaping him when he saw Bora. 

“Bora, what the fuck?!” He exclaimed, shrugging her hands off of him as he worked on tucking himself back into his pants. “What are you doing in here?”

“I’m taking your advice, and going for it,” she explained with a smile as he turned around to face her. 

“What do you mean?”

“Hobi, you had to have noticed how I look at you,” she cooed, placing her hands flat on his chest. “How much I admire you, look up to you. You’re so kind, and nice, and never have anything bad to say about anyone. Plus, you’re so handsome.”

“Bora, I’m a married man and we also work together!” Hobi hissed. 

“That didn’t stop you from throwing me signals,” she smirked. “You were so interested in getting to know me and asking about my dating life.”

“That wasn’t me throwing you signals, that was me being a decent human being and making conversation,” he scoffed. 

“Yeah ok, that’s what they’re calling it these days,” she laughed before leaning up and forcefully pressing her lips against his. Hobi pushed her away instantly though, grabbing onto her shoulders and pressing them away from his body. 

“Why the fuck would you kiss me?!” 

“I told you, I’m taking my chance,” she repeated, moving closer to him again and letting one of her hands reach out to ghost over his cock through his pants. “I like you, Hobi and I know you like me too so I’m doing something about it.”

“Would you stop fucking touching me and listen to me?!” Hobi snapped, making her freeze and look up at him. “Now, I’m sorry if I ever gave you mixed signals or the impression that I’m interested but I’m not. I am happily married and that’s not going to change.”

“That’s just what you think sweetheart,” Bora cooed. “I know you want to do the right thing because you’re a good person but don’t worry. I’m going to help you.” She leaned forward and snuck another quick kiss before turning around and strolling out of the bathroom, as if nothing had even happened. 

............................................................

Hobi left the party immediately after that weird encounter with Bora and on the entire drive home, he debated over whether or not to tell you about what happened. On one hand, the two of you made a promise to always tell each other the truth, no matter how terrible or uncomfortable it might make either of you. He also knew that trust was something that you cared a lot about and he didn’t want to betray the trust that you had in him, especially since he didn’t do anything wrong. 

On the other hand, that same thought is what had him not wanting to tell you. Since trust was extremely important to you, he knew how you might take it if you heard that Bora had pushed up on him and kissed him twice. Also, he knew there’d be a very good chance that you wouldn’t believe that he didn’t show any interest in Bora and that she didn’t just make it all up.

He still hadn’t completely made up his mind when he walked into the house and up the stairs into your bedroom, where he found you waiting up for him.

“Hey,” you smiled as you set your magazine aside. “How was it?”

“It was...good,” he muttered, beginnging to strip out of his clothes and put on his pajamas.

“That’s it?” You chuckled. “Come on, it was a Christmas party and there was an open bar. Something interesting had to have happened.”

“Jimin was pretty much drunk off of his ass and so was mostly everyone else for that matter, but nothing especially noteworthy,” Hobi shrugged. Once he had put on his pajamas, he climbed into bed next to you and you instantly cuddled up to him. 

“Mmm, I missed you,” you whispered as you looked up at him. “I almost thought about calling you to come home.”

“You should’ve,” Hobi replied. “There wasn’t anything keeping me there.”

“We’ll change that next year,” you giggled. “We’ll go and show them how to really party. Remember our college days?”

“Do I?” He laughed at the memories. “We used to be drunk off of our asses every Friday night and then we’d spend the rest of the weekend recovering.”

“Good times.”

“I doubt I’d be able to party like that now,” he told you. “We’re getting older and this party was probably more our speed.”

“I hate that I missed it then,” you laughed. Hobi looked down at you then, his heart aching at how he could see the love that you had for him in your eyes. Typically, seeing that made him happy but now, it only made him feel guilty. 

“I love you so much,” he stated firmly. 

“I love you too Hobi,” you responded, leaning up and kissing him softly. 

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bangtanbathhouse #bts reactions #bts jhope #bts hobi #jhope x reader #hobi x reader #jhope smut #jhope angst #jhope fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #bts scenarios

[wenellyb]

stop deluding yourself and your followers. Mackie is quite clearly anti sambucky and it’s what drove so many people away from the ship (the only ones left are the cishet girls with a gay fetish and their head stuck up their ass)

Hello Anon,

Below my replies, I'll make it "short" and develop this when I have more time.

1) Stop deluding yourself and your followers.

Done, you have it! I'll stop it.

2) Mackie is quite clearly anti sambucky

Here's the link of a Tumblr post with the audio from that interview where Anthony talks about Sambucky.

Tell me where is the part where you can tell he's anti-Sambucky?

I'll wait and listen. You can even reply to me on anon. But let me know the exact part where you can tell Anthony is anti-Sambucky?

Because the part where he is talking about male friendships is a reply to another question from the journalist, who asks about male friendships and the journalist is the one who says they are rare in the superhero context.

The only thing he said about Sambucky was laugh and then say he doesn't follow fandom stuff.

So where did you get to that conclusion?

Anon, I'm not a categorical person, I'm really interested in dicussing when it's done properly (politely), so I have no problem admitting it when I'm wrong, but I would need more than two sentences on Anon with no context or explanation.

And I will also need to know that you are someone who has all the information they need to make a judgment. Someone who hasn't only read the headlines and top tweets, but also read the article and listened to the audio.

I read the transcripts, and listened and what I hear is that what Anthony Mackie said was put out of context and wasn't about Sambucky. Let me know if you understand something else, after listening to the audio?

I just don't understand, I give all these links and arguments and explanations and then you come in my ask box with no counter argument, no evidence, nothing, and you expect me to believe you??? How does that work?

If Anthony is anti-Sambucky, ok, I'm not saying you're wrong, but what did he say to make you believe that? What quote?

And also if you have time to spare, you can read my post HERE.

3) it’s what drove so many people away from the ship

That and it's also because the show is over. I think there are several factors.

4) the only ones left are the cishet girls with a gay fetish and their head stuck up their ass

I'll adress this part later because it's a quite interesting topic but I don't have the time to adress it now!

Besides, you formulated this in a very rude way whereas it's an important topic to be discussed and that should definitely be adressed (the fetish part, not the head stuck up the *ss part lol)

#anthony mackie #anon asks #tfatws #I'm really open to discussions but anybody can just make random statements but it doesn't help when it isn't backed up by some evidenve #evidence #i was going for a short reply but I guess this is mid-length

[imagineaworld]

mr & mrs smith | b.b

part one | part two 

pairing : bucky barnes x reader

summary : bucky and y/n finally learn the truth about their feelings for each other

word count : 2.3k

warnings : 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), swearing

bucky slept through the night. he woke close to lunchtime, beams of golden sunlight shining through the drawn curtains. beside him, y/n slept on, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. 

he crept out of bed quietly so as not to wake y/n. grabbing a fresh set of clothes, he padded to the bathroom to get dressed and brush his teeth. he also spritzed on some of the cologne steve had bought him. 

when he re-emerged from the bathroom, y/n was sprawled out across the giant bed, looking just as ethereal as she had the previous day. she yawned, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"mornin'." bucky murmured, taking his toiletries back to his suitcase.

y/n hummed in response, taking a deep breath. "your cologne smells really good," she mumbled sleepily. 

"thanks," bucky said, flushed. "steve got it for me."

y/n clambered out of bed, stretching upward once she was on her feet. her pink silk pyjama shirt rose up slightly, showing a slither of her bare stomach. bucky swiftly averted his eyes.

"you wanna plant some bugs and cameras while i take a shower?" she asked after she'd finished stretching. "i'll help you once i'm done."

"sure," he said, avoiding eye contact. 

y/n took her clean clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. bucky didn't hear the door lock. 

he went about setting up tiny, hidden cameras and microphones around the room, the sound of the shower running in the other room. while he was doing his task, he thought about the previous night.

after the two had finished the bottle of wine, y/n asked what side of the bed bucky wanted. he had said he didn't mind, so he took the left and y/n took the right. they'd gone to bed around 1 am, and it had taken bucky a while to fall asleep.

he couldn't stop thinking about y/n beside him, he'd never shared a bed like this before. making sure not to move around too much and to not touch y/n, eventually, he fell asleep. 

his sleep was usually fitful, plagued by nightmares. but that night, nothing. just peaceful darkness and he had woken feeling well-rested.

bucky hadn't realised y/n was out of the shower until she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of loose jeans and a cropped tank top, towel-drying her damp hair.

"how's it going?" she asked.

the floral scent of her perfume filled bucky's nose. "almost done," he replied.

"let's finish up and get out of here."

-

within a few hours, bucky and y/n were packed up and checked out of the hotel, their equipment set up in the honeymoon suite, hooked up to tony's database. 

y/n was driving them back to the compound, stopping at starbuck's again to make up for the coffee bucky had bought the previous day. y/n got a hot chocolate, despite the fact that it was a hot day, and the windows were rolled down.

her hair blew around in the wind as she sang along to the radio, turned up loud so it could be heard over the rushing wind. bucky admired her from his seat in the passenger side, not able to suppress the smile that crept onto his face. he had never felt so carefree and at ease as he did in that moment.

"is that a smile i see?" y/n spoke over the music and the wind as she drove down the highway.

bucky blushed, turning his face away.

"hey, no!" y/n protested. "come back, i like it." 

bucky blushed even more, but stopped facing away from y/n.

"are you blushing?" she asked, her tone playful as opposed to taunting.

"nah," bucky responded, shaking his head. his grin, however, grew wider.

y/n laughed, tossing her head to get her hair out of her face. "this mission was fun," she admitted. "i was worried you didn't like me very much, but i think i was wrong."

"well," bucky said. "i do like you very much."

"ooh, very much, huh?" she asked in the same playful tone as before. perhaps, bucky thought, it was even flirty.

mimicking her tone, bucky said, "are you flirting with me?"

y/n raised her eyebrows, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. "i might be," she said. "i might have been for the last few months. maybe." she added.

bucky was serious all of a sudden. "wait, really?" 

it was y/n's turn to laugh nervously. "clearly not very well."

bucky couldn't think of anything to say. he was completely bewildered. this meant he had been right all along. it meant y/n did like him.

"mind if we take a detour?" y/n asked.

"sure."

y/n pulled off the highway, driving through a series of roads overcast with trees. not long later, she parked the car in a patch of land, with a few other cars parked close by. 

y/n unclipped her seatbelt. "wanna go for a walk?"

"yeah," bucky replied, still baffled.

he got out of the car. in front of him was a vast, blue lake, sparkling in the sunlight. all around the lake were lush green trees, and the sound of a family having a picnic nearby. the pair started walking.

"i didn't even know this was here," he said.

y/n smiled. "i come here with nat and wanda sometimes."

bucky breathed in the clean air, savouring the feeling of the sun on his face. he walked beside y/n, admiring the view of her and the lake.

"i did pick up on the flirting, by the way," he admitted.

y/n looked up at him. "you did?"

"yeah," he nodded. "i'm just horrifically awkward and i didn't know what to say back. so i said nothing."

"you aren't that awkward."

"oh, i am. definitely. you intimidate me."

bucky thought back to all the times he'd become flustered by y/n's comments, or overwhelmed by her touch. all the times she'd hugged him and he hugged back, wondering if he had perhaps hugged too tightly, or maybe not tightly enough.

"why?" y/n asked. she stopped walking now, standing under the shade of a large tree a few feet away from the lakeshore. 

bucky shrugged. "the things you say, things you do. eye contact, the way you touch me... i don't know, it just intimidates me."

"how can i be less intimidating?" y/n asked.

"don't make eye contact," bucky said. "close your eyes."

y/n frowned, but her face softened when her eyes fluttered shut. "better?"

bucky looked at her, stood in front of him with her eyes closed. the gentle breeze blew her hair behind her shoulders, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and touch it. he looked at her lips, parted slightly and decided he would do it.

he leant forward, caressing her cheek as his lips connected with hers. she made a slight sound of surprise, but she kissed back. her lips were soft, and there was the faint taste of chocolate. she pushed up on her toes to deepen the kiss, tangling her hand in bucky's hair.

when the two pulled away, bucky could hardly believe he had dared to do it. y/n opened her eyes again to look into bucky's. she grinned at him before catching her lower lip between her teeth. bucky melted at the sight of it.

"let's go back," she said, grabbing bucky's hand and leading him back to the car.

she leant back against the car door, pulling bucky in for another kiss. as bucky placed his hands gently on her waist, she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

"so much for a walk," bucky chuckled as he pulled away. 

"changed my mind," y/n said, opening the door and climbing into the driver's seat.

bucky went around the front of the car and hopped in. 

-

back at the compound, y/n was in her room, unpacking her suitcase, thinking about bucky. 

upon arriving home, bucky and y/n had paid tony a visit for a debriefing before heading to their rooms. y/n had given bucky a smile and a wink as she entered her bedroom. bucky had blushed and smiled back.

out of her suitcase, she pulled out a t-shirt that didn't belong to her. the large dark t-shirt smelled of bucky. she held it close, deeply inhaling the scent. pulling her own shirt off, she slipped bucky's on. 

it fell to mid-thigh, the loose material was cool in the warm weather. she pulled off her jeans, opting for a small pair of lounging shorts, hidden by the length of the t-shirt. as she finished unpacking, there was a knock at her door.

she answered it to find bucky on the other side. he eyed up her new outfit, raising his brows slightly. "i was going to ask if you had seen my shirt, but i can see you found it." 

it was y/n's turn to blush. "i don't know what you're talking about," she said, stepping aside for bucky to enter. the door closed behind him.

"that shirt," bucky said, closing the space between him and y/n. "is mine." 

he's flirting, y/n realised. so she stepped even closer to him. "yours? i guess you better take it back."

she pushed up on her toes, pressing her lips to his. he kissed back hungrily, tongue flicking across y/n's lower lip. his hands played with the hem of his shirt that she wore. eventually, he pulled the shirt over y/n's head, breaking the kiss briefly. his own shirt followed suit.

y/n knew bucky was fit, but she had no idea that his body was such a work of art. strong muscles bulged in his arms, his abs sculpted the plane of his stomach. she noted the rough skin where his metal arm met the rest of his body, and she thought he couldn't be more perfect.

bucky pulled away to take in all of her, to fully admire her in a way he had been too shy to do earlier. y/n caught her lower lips between her teeth as bucky's eyes roamed her body, the fullness of her breasts, the shape of her hips. 

"you're so beautiful," he said. he kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her and picking her up. y/n closed her legs around bucky, holding on as he carried her to the bed. "i've wanted this for so long."

gently, he laid her down, kicking off his shoes as he climbed on top of her, not once breaking the kiss. y/n fumbled with the button of his jeans, which he removed once she had undone them. 

bucky pulled away to look at y/n, flustered beneath his muscled body in just a bra and shorts, which he tugged at. she obliged, eagerly removing them.

he whispered praises as his hands roamed, exploring every part of her body. he unhooked her bra and watched as her breasts bounced free. he drank her in, eyes full of lust.

he began to kiss her again, moving from her lips to along her jaw, on her neck, down the valley of her breasts and stomach until he reached the waistband of her underwear. he kissed her through the thin fabric, the sensitivity making her moan.

bucky had wanted to take his time, but he wanted, needed her so bad. it had been a long time since he was last with someone so intimately. there would be plenty of opportunities to take his time.

he slid her panties down and put his mouth on her sensitive core. she gasped out a moan as bucky's tongue began licking in the most tantalizing way.

"bucky," y/n moaned his name.

the way she said it drove him crazy. the taste of her on his tongue... he couldn't take it much longer, he had to be inside her. he took his boxers off, fully exposed in a way that, if he hadn't needed her so bad, might have made him feel self-conscious.

y/n tangled her fingers in bucky's hair as he ate her out, head between her thighs, her moans causing an ache in his cock which he longed to bury inside her.

unable to bear it any longer, he slid his boxers off and lined himself up with her entrance. in one swift motion, he sheathed himself inside her. they both moaned loudly at the feeling, bucky enjoying the warmth and y/n enjoying the fullness.

"so wet, baby," bucky breathed out, bottoming out and slowly starting to move his hips. "you like that?"

"yes," y/n cried out. "fuck."

bucky could feel y/n clenching around him, the tightness making his cock twitch. he began to pick up the pace, snapping his hips in a way that made warmth spread through y/n's stomach as her orgasm started building up.

y/n raked her fingernails down bucky's back and he growled at the painful pleasure it brought him. each thrust drove y/n closer to climax. 

"that's right," bucky groaned. "cum for me, doll."

y/n cried out as her whole body vibrated as her orgasm rippled through her. her back arched, pressing her body tighter against bucky.

"you feel so good," bucky murmured, "coming all over my cock."

y/n couldn't form a coherent sentence in order to respond so she just moaned his name. bucky sped up his pace, each pull and push of his hips chasing his own release.

with a deep groan, bucky reached his climax, pumping into y/n a few more times before filling her up with his warm cum. he collapsed on top her, both of them panting to catch their breath. 

after a moment, he gently pulls out and lays down beside her, watching her bare chest rise and fall with each breath. 

"you have no idea how long i've wanted that," y/n said.

"trust me," bucky said. "i do.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier #the winter solider imagine #the winter solider x reader #MCU #mcu imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine

[liquid-luck-00]

My Life is One Complication After Another

Inspired by this post by @dolphin-ghost

Happy New Year everyone

Some cursing 🤬

Ao3 ~~~ Part 1 ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette has always been willing to give everyone a second chance. That may have been why she still had people to consider them as her friends. That is why when Lila started yet another lie about some celebrity she, Adrien, Chloe, and Juleka were holding their laughter and rolled their eyes.

"Honest Alya I'm like this" Lila crossed her fingers "with Bruce's kids." Alya must not have recognized the name as the liar gave a small laugh "oh, right Bruce Wayne, he prefers to only go by Bruce."

"Oh my God, Girl you have got to give me an interview for my blog!" Alya lapped up the story.

"Of course" Lila smiled, then looked over at Marinette "Anything for my best friend."

At this point, Marinette wasn't paying attention to the liar. Instead Mari was talking in low voices with her actual best friend, Adrien. They sat on the very back bench and Juleka and Chloe on the bench in front of them.

That was their normal, it had been since their eighth year. Now two years later it was routine, her classmates shunned her only talking with her for class assignments. Otherwise they ignored her and that may just have been the best outcome.

She, Chloe, Juleka, Luka, and Adrien were in the park working on a photoshoot. Adrien was behind the camera while Juleka and Luka were modeling. Marinette and Chloe were changing for the next set. When they came out Mari noticed several reporters around the perimeter. Security had them handled and she focused on modeling her creation.

However this wasn't the last she saw of the reporters. They were always at the school questioning the students. What they were asking she didn't know as she was never questioned.

Three weeks of spotting and avoiding reporters, with them swarming the school she needed to get creative in order to transform. Lila was of course bathing in the limelight and attention.

Mari was the last person out of the school as she was getting the homework for her three friends who didn't come today. The first thing she noticed coming out of the courtyard was the purple limo. Her honorary uncle came to pick her up. As soon as the door closed said uncle was crushing her in a hug.

"It's Rock' n to see ya Nettie" Jagged spoke, the hug muffling his voice slightly.

"Same here Jagged," wiggling out of Jagged's hug she reached over to hug Penny. "so what's with the escort?"

"A close friend of ours wanted to meet you and He and his son's are waiting at our room," Penny explained.

"Okay..." she hesitated exiting the car to head inside "but why? Is this a commission or what?"

After a silent elevator ride, Penny hesitated at the door before speaking. "We are hoping you could clear something up actually," as she opened the door.

Mari stepped in and noticed them. The eldest looked to be around mid to late thirties, black hair and bluebell eyes, dressed in a dark charcoal suit.

The youngest of the boys seemed to be a couple years younger than her, shorter than her by a head, tanned skin, short black hair, and jade eyes. A scowl on his face partially hidden by the collar of a black peacoat and slacks as he sat on the arm chair.

A boy around her age with chin length black hair and azure eyes, a red hoodie under a grey bomber jacket and black pants. He looked like he hadn't slept in at least a week, and if how he was holding the travel mug in his hands it was probably true.

Next to him was another boy who looked a couple of years older, black messy hair about 5 cm at the longest and a white tuff in front, cerulean eyes, a brown leather jacket and distressed jeans. He seemed familiar but couldn't place it.

The last boy also had long black hair but seemed to be layered and shorter in the front, sky blue eyes, a blue varsity jacket and jeans. He would either be the eldest or second, he had a bright smile but kept shooting a glance at Fang.

Speaking of which once she was in the room and she saw him, he charged at her, knocking her over. Mari was giggling as Fang rolled over and she was lost to the world as she doted on the crocodile.

"Nettie" Penny finally managed to get her attention.

"Sorry," she stood "but if it wasn't done we wouldn't be able to talk. Hello I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng it is nice to meet you." again she smiled.

"Bruce Wayne" the man introduced himself, "and my sons. My youngest Damian." he gestured to the boy with green eyes. "Next is Tim" gesturing to the boy with the mug who rose it in acknowledgment. "Jason is the second oldest" the boy with the white tuff gave a lop sided smile. "And my eldest Dick" whose smile seemed to become brighter.

She smiled nodding at everyone before realization hit. A quick snap of her fingers before pulling out her phone, opened up her texts and started typing, ending with a quick picture of Jason.

I think I just met your idiot friend

She put away her phone. Not even a minute later another went off.

The ringing stopped once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth Jason, spoke up. "Sorry I should take this."

"Go ahead this can wait a moment." Mari smiled.

As soon as Jason answered the phone "What the hell are you doing in Paris!?" everyone heard the caller as Jason was holding the phone an arm length away.

"How did you know... you?!" it dawned on Jason.

"Guilty," she smiled. "I guess you're not as big of an idiot as Roy made you out to be."

"Hey!" Jason called before turning to the phone. "What the hell did you tell her Harper!" By now Roy was on speaker.

"You can't prove what I said, ya know," she could practically see Roy's smirk.

"Video's however," she was now smirking.

"What!!" Jason seemed to freeze.

"Bug! No!" Roy was sounding like he was going to start panicking.

"I think I have a few saved," she tapped her chin.

That was when Bruce cleared his throat. "As amusing as this is we have business to discuss."

"Talk to ya later Mari." Roy bid her farewell. "Oh and Jason don't underestimate her." the call ended.

"Okay so how do you know Roy?" Dick finally asked.

"Oh. It was at a charity ball hosted by Oliver Queen," she replied nonchalantly.

"Was it the same one where a baby elephant ended up at the event. Following you the whole time." Penny asked exasperated.

"I still don't get how you think we had anything to do with that." Marinette finally sat down. She ended up sitting on the ground leaning against the couch next to Jagged, Fang resting his head on her out stretched legs.

"I have so many questions,” Tim finally added to the conversation.

"Tt. can we stop beating around the bush already," Damian was irritated and it showed. "Are you or are you not my biological sister."

He seemed ready to pounce, unfortunately that was dangerous in Paris. Especially as she saw an akuma right outside the window. The question asked now forgotten as she focused on the corrupted butterfly.

"Nope, Nope. I am not dealing with an akuma today." she stood up. Took a deep breath and let her anger and frustrations to the surface. The smile fell from her face. "If you want a puppet have a marionette" Kwamii Adrien is rubbing off on me.

The butterfly changed targets and was heading towards her, finally gaining the other's attention. She vaulted over the couch and made a beeline to her backpack. By then the akuma was close so she tossed the backpack over to everyone and rolled out of the way.

"Glass jar, unscrew it" she called out.

"How pathetic running from a bug." Damian moved quickly to catch the butterfly but it moved and found something in his pocket. He was engulfed in purple and then he stood there in evergreen armor with golden accents. A red and yellow cape and a pitch black sword in his hand. Pocket knife, the sword is where the akuma is.

"Screw it" she turned and with two quick jabs his two arms went limp. A third knocked him to the ground.

She picked up the sword and went to Dick who was holding the jar. She took the jar, broke the sword, and went to catch the butterfly. As soon as she screwed the lid on the butterfly began to turn white.

She let out the breath she was holding as she compartmentalized her emotions yet again.

"What the fuck was that!" Jason screamed and so did Dick, minus the curse.

"Where and why do you have one of those," Jagged asked.

Finally Damian shouted "Why can I not move? What did you do?" he accused.

"Okay so the butterfly was an akuma used by Hawkmoth, Paris’ villain, to manipulate anyone with strong negative emotions. These champions or Akuma are used to attempt to retrieve magical jewels from our heroes. The jar was given to me and a few others in my class, because our class is a hot bed for akuma, by Ladybug, one of the heroes." she gave a short and simple run down. "As for Damian, those were a series of pressure points,” infused with magic to-take down people easily, "it should wear off in a few minutes."

"Teach me please!" Tim begged.

"I dunno." she started to chew her lip and shift her weight.

"Roy's warning now makes a lot more sense," Jason hummed.

"Tt. adequate," Damian muttered softly, Marinette is sure she is the only one who heard.

"Okay so where were we?" she smiled turning and sitting back down with Fang.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dolphin-ghost @unabashedbookworm @bookgirl14 @laurcad123 @mochegato @vixen-uchiha

#dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #maribat #ml marinette #roynette #friend!adrien #bio!dad bruce #MLiOCAA

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 8

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: none? Length: 2.1k Notes: I’m sorry, Cyn, I know I said there would be smut but I was just enjoying the slow burn too much. And I just feel like these two NEED this. Not me nervous to write about his p in her v, nooope. Also, I’m wine drunk and did not spell check this bitch, have fun with that. Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series MASTERLIST

The day of the fair had finally arrived and you woke with more than a little excitement churning in your stomach. Multiple meetings at the community center had given you a chance to meet more of the town's population and you'd gained a deeper appreciation for them. Small towns afforded very few entertainments, which had resulted in some of the older kids, driven by boredom, getting into trouble. Minor things like graffiti and trespassing, but the community knew if they weren't careful that things could escalate. So, instead of making the kids feel judged or harshly reprimanded, the town was working towards better programs and facilities to keep them busy.

It was an unseasonably beautiful Autumn day, the kind that carried memories of Summer on the warm breeze. Knowing that cold and snow were just around the corner, these "second summers" made people act a little more recklessly and freely than they usually might. You had a feeling that the crowds tonight were going to be bigger and rowdier than anyone could have hoped for.

Jacquie had stopped by later to offer you a ride to town but you had just sent your baking with her, insisting that you wanted to enjoy the sunshine and bicycle in.

Once you'd entered the main square you were blown away by the effort from the town. Banners, balloons, streamers, and posters were everywhere. A stage for musical acts and a ticket booth had been built and donated by Hank's Hardware, food carts selling anything and everything you could deep-fry were scattered down every road. Carnival games had been set up in rows down multiple, closed-off, streets, as well as people setting up face-painting, balloon animals, and a smaller version of the Saturday Farmer's Market. The high school football field had even been converted to a tiny amusement park with a Ferris Wheel, carousel, and swing ride.

It was still early, and there was still a lot to do before the fair would be open, but the excitement was already palpable. After making sure your pies had been marked down for the auction, you beelined for the water gun race game that you and a lovely woman named Heather had been assigned to operate. 

Too preoccupied with making sure you had the water tanks filled, the pumps were working, and your ticket box was in place you didn't notice how some of the other volunteers were acting strangely, making sidelong glances and meaningful head nods. 

Nothing seemed amiss once Heather had joined you. In fact, you were getting along with her so well the two of you had already made plans to meet for coffee the next day.

Soon, the fair was in full swing. The games booths were a popular stop with families and you were having the time of your life cheering for every child who tried their hand at your game. 

Eventually, there was a natural lull in the festivities as fair-goers drifted from the games towards the food and live entertainment. You were just suggesting making a quick snack run when Heather's phone rang. 

"Sorry, one sec, it's my husband," she grimaced, holding her finger up to stop you from leaving.

In a bid to give her a modicum of privacy, you tallied up the tickets and bunched them into coils for easier counting later. Heather's normally calm voice rose in pitch and urgency, drawing your attention back to her in time to see a look of alarm and annoyance cross her face.  

"What do you mean, burned? Like, burned burned? There's smoke?! Oh, honey, what on earth..." she paused, listening to her husband's voice some more, giving you an eye roll that clearly said 'Men. They're hopeless' and interrupted whatever he had been saying. "Alright, alright. It's slowing down here so I can run home."

Putting her phone back in her purse, Heather turned to you with a huff. "He's burnt dinner, and it sounds like my skillet is toast, too. I'm sorry to do this to you but I need to run to the store and bring dinner home. I've got the only car, so they're stuck."

Assuring her you could manage on your own, you shooed her away and told her to take her time.

Walking backward to wave goodbye, Heather kept spouting numerous apologies and promising she'd make it up to you on your coffee date. Giving one last smile she spun around and immediately ran into old Mrs. Crawley who was being escorted by no other than a very bored and trapped-looking Frankie Morales.

"Oh! Mrs. Crawley! So sorry!" She began, steadying the white-haired octogenarian, "I'm being called home, ditching my post, gotta run, bye!" With that, she was gone, weaving her way through the crowd of people.

Mrs. Crawley had glanced over at you when Heather had mentioned having to leave and was currently shuffling her way towards you, Frankie in tow.

"Frankie, be a dear and help this beautiful lady out while Heather is away."

It wasn't a question but you still felt the need to speak up, giving Frankie an out if he wanted it.

"I can manage-"

"But what about your-"

You'd both spoken at the same time and stopped mid-way through to let the other go first. Mrs. Crawley broke the silence instead.

"My hip is feeling much better, and I think I'll just make my way over to the bandstand," she gave Frankie a meaningful look accompanied by a rather sharper-than-expected slap to his cheek, "alone."

You both watched her walk over to the stage, stopping to wave at Jacquie and Agnes where they were organizing the bake sale.

"What on earth is going on," you thought to yourself while staring daggers at Jacquie from across the street. This had zero effect on her, she was just sending you lewd winks and had the audacity to give Mrs. Crawley a thumbs up. That conniving little-

"Emmmm... hi."

His voice, sounding uncertain and shy, brought your attention back to Frankie. Taking a moment to soak in his presence, you noticed how worn down he looked. "Good," thought the petty part of your brain, but she was easily squashed by the rest of it appreciating the rest of him.

Tight jeans hugging his thighs, the buttons on his shirt working overtime where the material pulled across his back and chest, his hair was long and getting shaggy but when you saw the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap you had to fight the sudden urge to run your fingers through it.

Your eyes traveled up his neck, noting the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and across his face. He'd trimmed his beard, filthy thoughts of how it would feel on your skin flashed in your head.

Finally meeting his eyes with your own, you had to take a breath before replying.

"It's nice to see you, Frankie." Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, drawing his gaze "I guess we should talk-"

You were cut short by rowdy laughter and a crowd of people bustling onto the street, another wave of ticket-holders were coming to try their luck and win the huge teddy bear prize each game boasted.

For the next hour, you were kept too busy to talk more than what was necessary for running the booth. You used the time to gather your thoughts and make a list of what you wanted to say, how you wanted to say it, and how you were going to start the conversation casually.

Frankie wasn't sure how he had ended up as Mrs. Crawley's crutch. One minute he was dropping off a crate of fruit for the apple bobbing contest and the next he was walking at a snail's pace listening to the old woman reminiscing about her long-dead husband. 

She was sweet, and he didn't mind the slow meander around the square. No, it was the subject matter that had bugged him. After his divorce was finalized and his daughter was taken from him, which he could see now was the right thing to do at the time, Frankie had accepted the fact that he was alone.

Just him, his trees, and the memories of what he did to end up this way.

Then, you had come along. The first woman to catch his attention in five damn years. It wasn't just your beauty, or your easy smile, or the curves of your body. It was your goodness, your innocence, your ability to worm your way into everyone's hearts and not even know it. 

Listening to Mrs. Crawley and the love she had shared made his chest ache, knowing he'd never deserve it himself he still found himself longing for the same. The first moment he had laid eyes on you, it was like a movie about his life had played in flashes in his mind. The meet-cute at the market, romancing you with thoughtful dates like picnics and driving up to the city’s museums and theatre. Getting married, growing the business, then growing your family. It had all played out in a split second but the impression it had left was immeasurable. 

Then, he'd opened his mouth and ruined the moment. Crashed into your truck and ruined the moment. Spooked and burned you, ruining the moment. Gained your trust, broke down your walls, and then left like a coward in the morning and ruined it.

Shaken by his inward reflecting when Mrs. Crawley was jostled, Frankie froze in place once his eyes were directed to where you stood. You were glaring over his shoulder and refusing to meet his eyes, understandably, yet he still felt his chest contract with the hope you'd look at him and smile. 

The way your gaze had eventually taken him in, once he'd been abandoned by a suddenly spry-looking elder, had flared that longing back into a roaring flame. The sudden need to work the booth gave him plenty of time to plan his speech: begging for forgiveness and admitting to the way he felt. While his mind was busy planning his speech, his heart was bursting at how comfortably and effortlessly the two of you worked with each other, like you’d been doing it for years.

Heather returned, strolling over with a barely concealed smile on her face, not looking at all like she'd just come back from a domestic emergency. This whole town could win an Oscar for their performance tonight, it was mildly humiliating but you knew they were acting out of love.

She thanked Frankie profusely for standing in for her and wouldn't take no for an answer after suggesting the two of you go and enjoy yourselves for a bit. Glancing at Frankie you shrugged your shoulders and made a face that said "why not?". He smiled and nodded back, grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder before joining you on the bustling street.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, relishing just being near each other and absorbing the jubilant energy surrounding you.

Frankie bought you cotton candy and you made him belly laugh when you showed him the few bottles of cider you'd smuggled in your bag. Seeing the way his face lit up, how he exposed that delicious neck when he threw his head back, hearing the joyous rumble from deep within, sent a realization slamming into you so suddenly it made you stumble.

You loved him.

You might not be in love with him, not yet anyway, but there was a lightness and a warmth in your heart and he had put it there.

Frankie had grabbed your arm when you had stumbled and when you didn't pull away from his touch, his hand slid down your arm and his fingers wove their way through yours.

Walking like this, hand in hand, you found yourselves at the rides.

"I've never been on a Ferris Wheel," he admits to you, craning his head upwards to stare at the top carriage.

Dragging your eyes away from his neck, again, it took your brain a moment to acknowledge what he’d said. "What?!" You expressed with mock horror, already making your way toward the ride’s gate, "Then let's remedy that!"

"I'm- uh this is stupid," he was barely moving with you and adjusted his hat, a nervous tick you'd noticed, "I'm scared of heights."

This admission stopped you in your tracks.

"Frankie." You deadpanned, gripping his hand and pulling on it to emphasize your words, "You're. A. Pilot."

He groaned and you were sure you could see a blush creeping up from beneath his collar, "I know! I know. It's just that, up there?" He stops with a sigh, gazing at the stars wistfully, "I'm in control. I trust myself."

"Do you trust me?" You ask him softly gripping his hand between the both of yours.

Frankie gazed at your face for a breath, not in a way that made you think he was hesitating, it was more like he was pausing so you knew the full weight of his words.

"I trust you with everything."

PART NINE

TAGS: If you’d like to be added, send me an ask or a message! If you’re on the list please interact, I love getting your feedback, hearing your predictions, and all the “these two idiots!” comments 

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#Frankie Morales x you #Frankie Morales x F!Reader #Frankie Morales x Reader #Francisco Morales x you #Francisco Morales x F!Reader #Francisco Morales x reader #Frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #Francisco catfish morales x you #francisco catfish morales x reader #fix'er upper

[fantasia-monogram]

Happy birthday (the cupcakes are ruined)

♥️ Jaeyoon x gender neutral reader.

♥️ Smut; just 2k words (!) of what I'd call comfort porn, lol. It's Jaeyoon's birthday. An awkward first time handjob with a little sprinkle of oral happens. Jaeyoon is a total sweetheart and the reader tries their best! You could almost take it as a crack fic, I guess I can't take anything seriously (and I imagine sexy time with Jaeyoon must be fun anyway).

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how he is in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

Baking cupcakes, decorating them, waiting for Jaeyoon to come back from work, then cuddling together and, if it escalated, an extra surprise the mere thought of made your heart beat faster... Through the three months of your relationship, you’ve already figured your boyfriend wasn’t big on celebrations, and his busy work schedule didn’t leave much time to elaborate plans anyway. That’s why your idea for the night was fairly simple.

Except, here you were, staring in disbelief at the burnt cupcakes. You could swear you only left the kitchen for two minutes, long before the set baking time. You carefully peeled each cupcake one from the silicone mold in hopes they could, somehow, still be salvageable. Well, you were in for a disappointment, as the burn had already reached way below the crust the moment you turned off the oven.

The sound of the front door opening caused you to hold your breath in horror.

“Baby, I’m home,” you heard Jaeyoon announcing. His voice was noticeably tired.

You froze, still holding one of the silicon molds, unsure of what to do.

“I’m gonna shower first, okay?”

He didn’t wait for your answer, instead going straight to the bathroom.

Two rooms away, you were trying to think of something. You must have lost track of time again, because it felt as if your boyfriend finished showering in seconds.

The moment you caught him standing in the doorway, you threw a kitchen towel over the tray and, for safety measures, moved to the side in a way that made you cover any proof of your failure.

“Happy birthday!” you exclaimed cheerfully. “By the way, the cupcakes are ruined.”

Jaeyoon blinked a couple times, then snorted, visibly amused.

“It’s fine, baby. Thank you anyway,” he said with a smile, approaching. He sneaked his arms around your waist, glancing over your outfit, which was a very bold word, considering it consisted of baby pink briefs and an oversized white T-shirt.

Another thing he wasn’t big on was wearing clothes at home. You were still warming up to the idea, so you always had to throw something on top (comfy sweats or T-shirts were acceptable, and he wasn’t really a fan of fancy underwear either - you appreciated that greatly). Jaeyoon, however, unashamedly walked around in briefs only. God, it wasn’t easy for you. You couldn’t say you didn’t like what you saw, but it was so distracting it almost forced you to keep eye contact with him.

Looking anywhere else would make you blush profusely.

You snatched his attention away by placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“There is still one more present I have for you…” you started, looking up at him.

“What is it?” he asked, smiling. Damn, those cute dimples…

As an answer, you glided your hand from between his exposed pecs, down his abs and happy trail, stopping at the edge of his underwear, cautiously hooking a finger under it.

“Hey, we don’t have to.” Jaeyoon kissed your forehead, lightly grabbing your wrist. “Haven’t you told me you don’t feel ready yet?”

“I’m not ready to go all the way,” you explained, looking to the side, “But I wanna take a little step forward tonight.”

You pulled out of his grip and, biting your lip, placed your hand on his already impressive bulge. You didn’t expect it to be so warm to the touch.

“Okay, maybe not so little”, you snorted.

“Are you sure?” Jaeyoon uttered, sounding a bit out of breath.

You nodded with a smile on your lips.

Your boyfriend, despite very obvious physical attraction to you, has always been a total sweetheart when it came to reaching next levels of intimacy. He knew you had no real experience and never pushed you into anything. It took you over a month to get from shy smooches on the cheek to actual making out, and even then, whenever he’d get too aroused, he’d stop in his tracks and ask you to let him cool down a bit. You almost couldn’t believe his patience, even though he’d insist he was just being a decent human being everytime - that wasn’t the experience you had with your exes, though.

This time, you had no intention to leave him with nothing.

“Do we go to the bedroom, or…” you stopped mid sentence, courage leaving you all of sudden.

“I don’t mind just staying in the kitchen,” he replied, planting another kiss, this time on the side of your neck. “It’s so nice and toasty in here after all that baking.” Another one. “Or maybe it’s just because I’m excited for your present.”

You felt a warm shiver spreading through your body. You motioned Jaeyoon towards the counter before the arousal could haze your mind completely.

A makeout session with a lot of tongue followed, with him leaning against the edge of the counter while you trapped him in place with your arms. You really felt in control despite the height difference, plus, it gave you a nice opportunity to squeeze his glorious butt from time to time - he seemed to like it a lot, moaning into your mouth each time you did that.

One particularly low moan encouraged you to slide your hands to his front. He kept you so occupied with his kisses that you pushed his briefs down almost absentmindedly, while you two stayed pressed tightly against each other.

The weight and warmth of Jaeyoon’s hard cock, that you could feel against your stomach even through the fabric of your shirt, made you break the kiss with a surprised gasp.

Jaeyoon giggled sweetly.

“I guess I did get a bit too excited, after all.”

He pulled back (not without pecking your cheek for a good measure) and carefully sat on the floor. After a short hiss because of the direct contact with the cool tiles, he leaned against the cabinet door below the counter.

Not breaking eye contact, he shamelessly spread his legs.

“So, what are we doing?” he asked with a wink.

Doing your best to hold back a nervous laugh, you sat in front of him, the lewd sight of your boyfriend sprawled for you like that making your head spin with desire. You never felt like this for any of your previous partners, but Jaeyoon absolutely deserved to take all of your firsts.

“I was… thinking…” you mumbled, finding it hard to not glance at his dick every now and then, “I just wanted to focus on you tonight… Maybe I could use my hands?”

You hesitantly looked into Jaeyoon’s eyes. The tender gaze he gave you caused your heart to swell with love.

He reached for your hands and held them delicately.

“Can’t wait, baby,” he whispered, “I’m going to guide you, okay?”

A chuckle escaped your mouth. He really couldn’t give up on any chance to hold your hands.

Not wasting any more time, you looked up at the counter. Conveniently, a jar of organic coconut oil was within your reach, so you grabbed it together with a spoon placed nearby.

“It’s fine to use this as lube, right?” you made sure, uncapping the jar. “I’ve read it somewhere over the Internet.”

“It’s more than fine,” Jaeyoon reassured you, tactfully omitting his amusement over your possible research.

Well, your search history was already messed up. It better be worth it.

Jaeyoon’s face was getting flushed; you’d find it cute if not for the situation you found yourself in.

You spooned a hefty amount of oil. After moving the jar out of the picture, you slathered the makeshift lube all over your palms.

“Where do we begin?”

In a matter of seconds, your hands were in Jaeyoon’s again. He guided your left hand to hold his cock at the base. The sight was mouth watering --- your palm looked so small against the thickness of his shaft, but you did your best, holding it firmly with the pressure suggested by Jaeyoon himself.

He made you circle your right hand around him, with your thumb resting against the underside. Here, the pressure applied wasn’t as hard, so your boyfriend started guiding you through the entire length with slow, careful strokes. The whole experience was so intense for you, even though you were the one pleasuring your boyfriend; his cock was so hard and hot, you could feel all the veins under your fingers, and the gentle guidance only made it feel even more intimate.

The strokes became faster and more desperate. Jaeyoon would let out a breathless moan every time you squeezed his cock near the top. Soon enough, when you brushed your thumb over the head, you noticed pearly droplets of precum smearing along with it.

You didn’t even realize how fast your breathing has become. You caught yourself letting out a quiet, breathy moan from time to time, now unable to look away from the filthy sight in front of you.

The best thing about it? Jaeyoon’s whines were becoming louder and more prolonged with each jerking move now. You could see his arms and thighs shaking.

“Let me…” you whispered, your voice hushed by the weight of your desire.

Jaeyoon let you take control, his hands now squeezed into fists, resting on his thighs. Since you got the gist of the stroking already, you dared to glance at your boyfriend’s face.

He looked divine and so vulnerable at the same time: his head thrown back, image of pure bliss on his face. His sculpted chest heaving for air. His abs quivering.

You couldn’t believe it was you who turned him into this gorgeous mess.

“Oh God…”, he moaned, eyelashes fluttering, heart-shaped lips just slightly open. “You’re doing amazing… Baby…”

You couldn’t hold back a giddy smile that beamed across your lips. Turning your gaze back at his cock, you saw - and felt, oh, you felt it so well - it twitch.

As another motion reached just under the crown, Jaeyoon’s hands were back on yours, this time stopping you from any movement.

“Stop... Wait...” he pleaded, breathing heavily, sweat rolling down his chest. “Gonna cum…”

“Isn’t that like… the whole point?” you asked innocently. Jaeyoon looked back at you, wide-eyed.

He didn’t want you to move your hands anymore? Fine.

You licked your lips and leaned towards his shaft. Mustering up your courage, you kissed the tip tenderly, making a soft, wet sound.

Things happened quickly. You didn’t even get a chance to fully lean back to your previous position when you heard Jaeyoon whine loudly. You felt him tighten the grip on your wrists. Next thing you knew, he came in thick spurts on your chest and neck, some of it even hitting the lower side of your cheek.

You froze for a moment. Did you just really… bring him over the edge? With so little touching?

Jaeyoon’s long sigh snapped you out of your musings. He finally let his hands slide off yours. You let go of his spent cock, putting it down as gently as you could.

Your boyfriend tucked his fingers under your chin. He raised it so you could face him.

His relaxed smile was a tell-tale sign you did an amazing job.

“There is my birthday cupcake,” Jaeyoon murmured, smearing his cum on your face with his thumb, squishing your cheek a bit too much in the process. “With icing and stuff.”

You tried to playfully squirm away, but he firmly held your chin in place and leaned down to give you a deep, messy kiss.

Jaeyoon backed off a little to look into your eyes again. His gaze dropped down theatrically. You followed it, only to discover there was a wet spot on the light pink fabric of your briefs.

“It’s a moist one, too.”

Before you even thought of getting embarrassed, he hooked his arm tightly around your waist. He easily lifted you off the floor, only to seat you on the kitchen counter.

He situated himself between your spread legs.

“I better eat it before it gets all soggy.”

#sf9 smut #sf9 scenario #sf9 imagines #jaeyoon smut #jaeyoon scenario #jaeyoon imagine #Please tell me how you like it! #It's been a while since I wrote a piece this long ;;

[thirsting-over-demons]

The Lingerie Game

{An Obey Me Fic} – F!MC

Synopsis: A game is happening at the House of Lamentation— anyone who sees MC not fully clothed will get the opportunity to spend 12 hours time alone with her wearing lingerie of their choice.

<<CH2

Chapter Three: A Game of Strip Poker

warnings: mildly n.s.f.t, sexual themes, poker

Mammon cashes in on his 12-hour reward. He's decided to teach MC the ins and outs of poker, but with a twist. However, the game can't last forever.

Word Count: 5610

Sitting in wait for MC is a package carefully positioned in front of her bedroom door. A gold ribbon wraps around the box, contrasting with the plain brown paper that covers it. Attached is a note that reads:

My room! Saturday night!

…

Wear this underneath your normal clothes.

 “Wow. His handwriting is worse than mine,” MC comments as she reads the note. She also remarks on the lack of signature. It’s a good thing that it’s obvious who sent this. No one else but Mammon could be so confident yet convey such bashfulness through writing.

As soon as she finishes reading, she takes the package into her room, eager to see the lingerie Mammon has picked out. Upon opening, she initially notices the color scheme—black and gold. As if she could expect anything else. She goes on to pull out the first piece, holding it in front of her to get a better look. In her hands is a short, black chemise with a sheer body. An outline of lace separates the see-through fabric from an opaque bikini. What’s more, golden dagger-shaped shards hang off the brassiere while metallic specks can be seen throughout the flowing fabric.

He expects me to be able to wear this underneath my regular clothes? The frown on her face as she thought this is replaced by an affectionate smile as she continues to stare at the chemise. She then sets it aside and lets out a sentimental breath as she does so. Reaching into the box again she pulls out a pair of black boyshorts studded with silver white diamonds on the sides. Attached to the shorts are garter straps with gold-colored clasps at the end. Stockings, however, did not come with the set.

“I wonder if that was on purpose,” she mutters to herself. “Oh well, guess we’ll find out Saturday night.” She stares at the lingerie laid out on her bed, and for a moment, thinks about all the potential activities Mammon has planned.

Whatever it is, I’m looking forward to it.

 Saturday has finally arrived and after a long day of making up missed school, Mammon and MC could use some winding down.

“Why did we have to spend a whole day at school for just a couple of lousy hours?!” Mammon complains as the two walk home.

“Because he’s a sadist,” MC replies. There’s no denying that ‘he' refers to Lucifer. She’s truly contemplating whether it was, indeed, worth it after having lost eight hours of her day off to forced independent study. “At least there’s tonight.”

Mammon chuckles shyly and agrees. His confidence picks up speed as he states, “Ya know it’s gonna be fun cause The Great Mammon planned it!” A grin plasters his face while he says this.

In response, she comments on how it sounds like she’ll have to take some time to relax beforehand.

He agrees rather begrudgingly, his disappointment shining through despite having just spent the first half of the day together already.

The two eventually reach home and part ways, having agreed to meet in Mammon’s room after dinner. MC has no idea what the evening plans could be, but knowing him, she’s going to need energy. With this is mind, she decides to nap in the time before dinner, and makes her way up to her room. Once there, she manages to only take her shirt off before flopping onto bed and falling asleep. The cool fabric is refreshing compared to the hot air outside, perfect for afternoon dozing.

A knock on the door disrupts her slumber. With it, a lazy acknowledgement escapes from MC, prompting the knocker to enter the room.

“Dinner's ready, MC,” Satan calls out. In response, all he hears is mumbles coming from the body half-under the covers. Satan sighs as he steps further into the room. “It’s not good to sleep so early in the day.” He immediately goes from lecturing to tempting as he adds, “Besides, I made your favorite.”

This sparks some energy in MC. Satan’s cooking is always delicious and better yet he says it’s one of her favorites. She quickly pushes herself up and the blanket that was covering her falls to the side. Still in bed, she turns to face him and with resolve, tells him she will be right there.

He decisively ignores what she said to instead ask, “Are you not wearing a shirt?”

MC looks down to confirm that she is, in fact, shirtless. Upon realizing what this means, she looks up, stares ahead at the wall in front of her, and says flatly, “No. I am not.” She can’t believe how quick that was.

“A win-win for us both, it seems,” Satan is obviously pleased with what just happened. “I’ll let you get dressed.” He then takes his leave, closing the door behind him.

MC remains sitting in bed, her eyes lingering blankly at the space Satan just left through. That was almost embarrassingly too fast. It’s only been less than a week since the game first started and already two prizes are being rewarded. Let’s just focus on tonight, she thinks as she pushes the encounter out of her mind. But, first, food.

Dinner passes without much incident. To their displeasure, the brothers know Mammon will be getting uninterrupted time with MC tonight. But the punishment from last time is still fresh in their minds, so they tended to steer away from that topic. Only the rogue complaint here and there made it out their mouths. Not that any questions would be answered anyway; MC is unaware of the activities for the night and there’s no way Mammon would tell his brothers what he has prepared.

Upon finishing her meal, MC heads upstairs to get ready for the night. First, a shower is in order. Can’t feel her best without one. She makes sure to use the scents she thinks Mammon would like best. He always seems to try to stand close to me when I use the strawberry-scented stuff.

After washing, she tosses on some throw-away clothes for the walk back to her room. She’s too wet to immediately put on the lingerie and she’s certainly not walking back in a towel. There can’t be two winners in a day.

She's eventually able to wear the lingerie and walks over to the mirror hanging on her door. Moment of truth. She looks over her reflection, quite pleased with how she looks. “Who knew Mammon could pick out something that looks so good?” Her thoughts instantly leave her mouth. “Well, I guess modeling helps.”

Still, there’s the matter of trying to wear it under her everyday clothes. It definitely wasn’t designed to do that. A larger, loose-fitting shirt will work, but the bottoms might be a bit trickier. Jeans definitely won’t work, in fact any type of pants won’t. She’ll have to go with a skirt. The two tops can easily be tucked in with that too, making it slightly more manageable.

The completed ensemble is a bit uncomfortable, but it’ll do. He can’t be planning on never seeing the lingerie. Eventually she can take off the other clothes…right? Well, either way, it’s time to head to Mammon’s room.

She announces her arrival with three sharp knocks. In return, she hears a startled Mammon telling her to come in. When she enters the room, she sees him sitting on the couch, his back to the door. She also notes the trashcan filled to the top with crumpled up paper. Seems like it took him a couple times to find the right words for the note earlier.

“You ready?” she asks.

“I’ve been ready,” he replies a little impatiently while turning to face her. His tone quickly changes, though, as he attempts to hide this anxious eagerness. “Not that I’ve just been sitting here waiting!” He swiftly decides to change the subject to avoid any further hole digging. Instead, he comments on what MC is wearing. On how little it is, in fact.

“What? You told me to wear my everyday clothes,” she says, genuinely confused by his line of reasoning. “The skirt isn’t even short. It’s mid-length.” MC lifts the ends while she states this, as if to prove the point.

This causes Mammon to look away. It takes him a slight moment to regain himself before he says, “I guess it can’t be helped.” He gets up from the couch and walks over to MC. Draping his jacket across her shoulders, he tells her, “Wear this.”

She’s completely baffled at this point. More clothes? A couple seconds are spent in wonder until she slips her arms through. She doesn’t completely mind. As the jacket settles, a scent drifts over her.

It smells like him.

MC hesitates to ask for an explanation, but the curiosity is pressing. “So, what’s the deal with the clothes, anyway?”

“Huh?” Mammon acts as though she knows what they’re going to do. “Well, with what you had on, you’d only have to lose twice.” This does nothing to clear up mystery, and its only when he sees MC's puzzled expression does he realize that. He finally reveals what the two will be doing, “I’m gonna teach ya poker!”

Of course. He has wanted to play countless times before, but MC didn’t know how nor was any interested in learning. But now she has too. On top of that, it seems like it’s going to be strip poker. How apropos.

“I see.” Good thing she took that nap. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have the mental energy to be taught anything else that day. “Alright, let’s get to it.”

Mammon gives a hum of agreement and the two make their way over to the couches where he’s set up the cards. On the table are examples of possible hands in order of ranking. As he goes over them, he makes sure to give MC enough time to properly memorize the categories. When she’s had her fill, he continues to explain the rules and mechanics of the variant his chosen in-depth.

Plainly, players will be dealt two cards, then five will be laid onto the table as community cards. Use the two cards in combination with the ones of the board to make a better hand than the other.

“I’ve decided to go easy on ya!” A huge smile can be seen on Mammon’s face. “This one’s the easiest to learn, so you should have no problem playing.” It’s obvious he’s having so much fun teaching her something he loves.

MC smiles in response. Seeing him so enthusiastic makes him so endearing. He’s quite serious about it too. No way he’s not by how thoroughly he’s explaining the game.

Soon enough the two begin playing, starting with some practice rounds. When MC decides she has the hang of it, she suggests they raise the stakes by finally betting clothes.

“Ya haven’t won yet!” Mammon rejects the idea straightaway. “Ya hafta win first,” he clarifies.

She has to wonder if he’s doing such a slow reveal on purpose. No, of course he is. First the long lesson now all the practicing. Though, she has to admit, it is more fun this way—there’s a buildup, anticipation. And there’s no point in rushing, they do have half a day. So, she's content to carry on without anteing for now.

While there’s a bit of enjoyment in trying to win against Mammon in something he excels in, MC is starting to lose interest. The lack of risk is starting to compromise the point of playing, even if she always either loses or folds. All she has to do is win once, then the real game can begin. Time to really focus.

Up to this point, she’s just been paying attention to her own cards and trying to beat Mammon’s hand. She’s been foregoing any observation of her opponent proper. Right, I’ve got to play the player as much as the game. She starts with some simple watching, noting anything that might help her: expressions, movements, comments, etc. Further scrutinizing is done by deliberately making a couple of bad moves to gauge his reactions. She’s getting nothing from him.

A couple more rounds go by, and MC has concluded that Mammon is unreadable, almost. The only time he reacted, just slightly, was when she nearly won. He seemed almost proud. That’s got to be her angle. She’s not skilled enough to read him, but she can coax him into giving away information. Just have to ask the right questions.

It takes some tries before finding the most effective line of questioning. Problem is, before, she wasn’t asking too many questions. Now, it’s like a flood gate has been lifted.

“Finally getting serious, huh?” If Mammon knew what she was up to, he wasn’t showing it. Additionally, the influx of questions hasn’t thrown him off. Rather, he’s quite excited to show off his talent in front of MC. Maybe a bit too excited. He’s letting down his guard.

Which is perfect for her. She needs this win. In fact, she might have him. The last thing she asked caused a slight stir in Mammon. “So, a pair in hand and a pair on the table is a two pair?”

“Yep! Got it!” Mammon's response showed no sign of hesitation or worry. But there was the tiniest hint of disappointment hidden within his words.

This is what tipped MC off. He thinks he has a better hand. Good thing her cards are better than what she said. And with what’s on the table, there's a good chance his cards will lose to her actual ones.

“Alright let’s show ‘em,” she says as she lays her cards into view.

Mammon almost immediately declared himself winner until she pointed at the three aces on the table, those being the two in her hand and then the community one. In addition to the pair included on the board, that makes her a hand a winner compared to Mammon’s, who only had five cards of the same suite.

“Guess we can start anteing then,” MC proclaims. She’s ready to stop being so damn uncomfortable because of the weird layers she’s wearing. She may not even try the next rounds, not that she’ll let Mammon know that. He would try to make excuses to prevent her from stripping for sure. “Actually, maybe you should explain how you’re thinking of doing that first,” she follows up after realizing he never clarified those particulars.

Mammon goes on to lay out the rules he’s devised. Simply, if both players show their hand, the loser has to remove an item of clothing. There’s no penalty to folding considering the circumstance.

Sure enough, the next round plays and she ends up losing an item of clothing. Can’t say she ended up not trying, though. She just didn’t try as hard. It was fun learning how to play against Mammon, but it’s too much now. There’s no way she can keep up steam.

She opts for the skirt first. It’s been the major cause of her discomfort, surprisingly to her. The band has been causing the two shirts to rub against her skin nonstop. She sticks her thumbs in to separate it from herself and lifts herself off the couch just enough to pull the skirt off, setting it to her side. With that she returns her gaze to Mammon.

This prompts a small fuss from him. Snapping out of a lascivious stare, he spits out, “Why'da go for that first? I gave ya the jacket!”

That’s the other reason. She doesn’t want to take his jacket off. She tells him as such, burying her head in it as she does. It’s soothing in a way.

A small amount of color rises across Mammon’s face from this. He gets up wordlessly and walks over to MC. Taking off his own sunglasses, he puts them on her, slightly brushing her cheeks as his hands slide past.

“There,” he says as he looks at her before walking back around the table. He seems satisfied with that explanation, or rather, lack thereof.

“These will literally be the next thing I take off.”

“They’re suppose'da be.” Mammon goes on to deal the next round. It was tight, coming down to who had the higher cards. Ultimately, he won by a hair.

And the glasses come right off.

The following hand plays much slower. MC takes her time to analyze everything, thinking of endless possible card combinations that’ll earn her a win as the community cards are laid down. She’s decided she can’t be the only one stripping.

It’s down to the last card on the table and she has to choose whether to show or fold. It’s a decent enough hand. She’ll show.

Mammon's the first to flip his cards, revealing a respectable hand, as well.

“Are you sure you haven’t been cheating?” She suddenly asks.

“Huh?” Mammon was taken by surprise with this. A little offended, he answers, “I may bend the rules sometimes. But this isn’t the time and place, MC. Even I know that.”

“You’re right,” she turns her cards over. “Because you would’ve won, then.” She reveals a hand that triumphs over her opponent’s.

“MC!” He exclaims both pleased and a little unsettled. “Ya had me going there. Hah! Look at ya.”

But she is just looking at him, waiting with a smile half-cocked. They showed their cards. She won. He lost.

He eventually understood why she was staring at him with such a look. And he froze. Right, by his rules, he loses an article of clothing now. For some reason, this didn’t even occur to him as a possibility—that they’d both be half-naked.

He's already lost his jacket and glasses. All that’s left are his shirt and pants. He picks the prior. Reaching over behind his head, Mammon takes his shirt and, as quickly as he can, yanks it over his head.

“You can quit lookin' at me like that, now.”

She doesn’t. Not even realizing she’s staring; she continues to admire his physique. Only when Mammon goes out of his way to get her attention does she snap out of her daze.

“Next round!” He says as if he’s uttering a decree.

The cards are dealt once again. MC, however, is getting tired. He sure can play for a long while. Having won the last round, she decides to phone it in for the rest, trying only as hard as it takes Mammon not to notice. It helps that she’s not good to begin with.

The next clothing item she tosses is the shirt beneath Mammon’s jacket, still refusing to take it off. She somehow manages it by balancing the jacket on her shoulders as she slips out of the top worn under it. Sure, she could have just taken off the jacket then put it back on when she was done, but it’s more fun this way. Plus, Mammon can't say anything her breaking the rules, so to speak.

Now, all she’s wearing is Mammon’s jacket and the lingerie he picked out. And she wants to show off this fact. She abruptly stands up, which causes the hanging daggers of the brassier to sway as she does so. Holding her arms out while posing, she asks, “Isn’t it cute?”

Mammon takes a moment before answering, soaking in what he’s seeing.

“You’re beautiful.”

MC felt a tinge of heat reach her cheeks. She wasn’t expecting him to respond like that. But she was glad.

She sits back down and comments on how she loves what he picked out. Then, silently thinks to herself how she hopes to wear it again for him.

Mammon, meanwhile, was marveling at how MC looked. Even going so far as to praise himself for his choice of lingerie.

“By the way,” MC begins. “This does beg the question, what about the stockings?” She leans back and to the side, supporting herself with her hands as she swings her legs alternatively up and down.

“Oh, uh,” he searches for the words, a little distracted by her bare legs. Finally finding them, he says, “It seemed like too much.”

“That’s too bad. It would’ve made the outfit even cuter,” she replies minorly disappointed. Then adds with a chuckle, “Plus it would’ve gave me more things to take off. Oh well, there’s always next time.”

“I can see that now! No need to rub—” He processes the last thing MC said. “Wait, for real?!”

MC confirms what she said, ready to laugh again. Well, that confirms he's all up for seeing her like this again.

“Imma hold you to that!” Mammon ecstatically swears. It’ll be even more fun the next time around, especially since the anxieties of this time won’t overwhelm him.

The night continues and MC can’t hide her exhaustion, yawning more and more frequently. She’s been folding more frequently too. Every round, in fact. The only thing she has left to offer is the jacket she’s been cuddling all night, and she’s not going to let it go.

“One more game,” Mammon says. “Then ya can go to bed.” He stipulates, “But no folding! Both of us gotta show our cards.”

“I’m not going to bed until you are,” she replies. “You have to get your full time.” A yawn tries to escape from her mouth as she says this.

Mammon accepts this but insists on having that last round. While she looks adorable, he does want to see how she looks without the covering piece. Plus, there has to be a proper sendoff of the game—folding just won’t do.

“In that case, we can watch a movie or something,” he suggests as he lays down the cards. He puts down all five table cards without delay. There’s no need to go through the whole process. When he lays the last card, he also flips his own, then looks at MC to do the same.

Although coming down to pure luck at this point, she ends up having to finally forego the jacket she’s come to love. She pouts as she removes it, then quickly makes her way over to the couch Mammon is sitting on the far end of. Settling down at a spot where they're almost touching, she goes on to suggest they watch a horror movie.

He’s reluctant to agree to this but relents as he’s too focused on the sudden close proximity between the two.

“I’ve been wanting to watch this certain one,” MC says as she pulls the film onto the TV. She stays on the summary screen to give Mammon the chance to read it and waits for him to give the go-ahead. Mammon, however, seemed to be focusing all his attention on MC, and she has to direct him to look at the screen. After a moment, a sign of confirmation is given, though hesitantly as if he didn't even process what he just read. She starts the movie anyway.

A little ways in, MC begins to shift and leans heavily onto Mammon, holding nothing back as she puts her full weight on him.

“If ya scared, all you gotta do is say so,” he says in reaction. “The Great Mammon will protect ya!” He looks down at who appears to be his new blanket.

She responds with a tired hum. Though she’s not having Mammon’s feigned bravery, she’s too exhausted to fight it. Instead, she continues to just watch the movie through half-closed eyes, propped against his shoulder.

“Hold on a sec.” He lifts her off for a split moment and repositions, his back now being supported by the arm of the couch. He pulls her into his lap, and she ends up laying between his legs with her head on his chest. “It’s more cozy this way, yeah?”

“Makes the jacket the next-best thing,” she answers.

The two continue to watch the movie in silence. During so, Mammon’s arms have been slowly moving from the couch to around MC, getting closer and tighter every time he got scared. He soon was fully encircling her with his head hiding behind as far as he could manage, which wasn’t much considering his position, even with sliding down. This was when he noticed the smell of strawberries.

“Hey, MC,” he spoke low trying to get her attention. There was no response. “Are ya sleepin'?” Again, he was met with silence. He took this opportunity to lightly bury his head into her, absorbing the scent that he adores on her. It had a calming effect, especially after the stress caused by the horror on screen.

“Did’ya wear this for me?” He asks softly to himself. Though the movie was over, he stayed still. He wanted nothing but to continue holding her like he was. There’s a chance he might just fall asleep too.

But he couldn’t. It’s too uncomfortable for that. The position is fine for cuddling yet sleeping like this will only bring pain the next day. And it can’t be much better for her. Not to mention, they don’t even have any blankets, and the pillows that were already on the couch are hardly meant for such use. He ultimately decides to sacrifice the snuggling, over much internal debating, and wakes MC up.

“Time to get up,” Mammon’s voice was loud as he shook her tenderly. He knew all too well if the first attempt didn’t work, he’d have way too much trouble with trying again. “It’s better to sleep inna bed. C'mon.”

MC grumbles at this as she sits up. Without a word, she makes her way over to the bed in his room.

“What're ya doing?” He asks a bit flustered, fully not expecting her actions.

“You said to go to bed,” she replies rather pragmatically. Then adds, “And there’s still time left in your twelve hours.” As she says this, she lifts the covers and climbs into bed. “Unless… you want me to walk all the way back to my own room?” It’s clear she has no plans to do this anyway, as she’s already quite settled in his bed.

Mammon makes no arguments, only an off-hand comment that can be taken as him denying all responsibility in having the idea. Instead, he gets into bed next to her, facing her way.

As soon as she feels his weight, she rolls over to meet him. She asks, “Can I hold you?”

He answers by holding her first. Showing no restraint, he presses his body into hers, his arms fully wrapped around her. He lets out a heavy sigh as he does so.

MC stiffens in surprise by this, but very quickly relaxes into him. Lifting her head off the shoulder she was resting on, she gives him a peck on the cheek as she tells him, “Good Night.”

Stunned by this, Mammon stares at MC, who has taken her position back onto his shoulder. Shifting his gaze to the side, a short moment passes before he says, “If ya gonna kiss me, ya gotta do it right.”

To this, she looks up again and brings her face to his, stopping just before his lips. And she waits, hesitating in front of him as she pauses for consent, her own lips somewhat parted ways in anticipation. She looks from his eyes to his lips then back again, as her way of asking.

Mammon gives his permission by impatiently pressing his lips to hers. His hand supports her head as his avarice takes over, roughly deepening the kiss more and more. To him, no matter how near their bodies, it will never be enough. There will always be some distance to close.

In return, he gets kisses that are sleepy but not effortless. Noting this, and realizing that he’s getting too excited, he pulls away. When he does, he meets MC with eyes brimmed with compassion. But only for a second as he quickly buries her head into his chest, hiding her from the complete redness that is consuming his face. He ends the night by telling her, “Go back to sleep,” as he feels her warm breath against his skin.

As for her, she falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, loud and fast.

 Although falling asleep later, Mammon was the first one to wake up. He wants every second awake he can get holding the woman he’s come to adore. In fact, even though they repositioned during their slumber, he’s still cradling her. As he lies on his back staring at the ceiling, MC sleeps soundly on his chest. He starts to caress her head, feeling the hair that would tickle him occasionally throughout the night on his fingertips, wishing this won’t end.

Unfortunately, this wakes her up after a while and she moves off his chest, much to his disappointment. So much so, that he pulls her back without delay, saying that he’s not done holding her yet. The Avatar of Greed, indeed.

“Mammon, I have to get up.”

But he doesn’t let go. Rather, he tightens his embrace.

“Mammon…” she sinks into him, not wanting to get up either. But she has to go grocery shopping for dinner. It’s her turn. A fact she relays to him, yet he still won’t budge.

“How ‘bout a good morning kiss?” This got his attention. “But I can’t do it from here.”

He relents to this. Eager for another kiss. His grip loosens, allowing MC to position herself in front of him. He props her chin up and runs his thumb over her bottom lip before he goes in. It’s softer this time, slower with deliberate motions. He wants the feel of her lips committed to memory.

Her kisses in answer are the same. In contrast to the tired grazes of yesterday, her touch now is very much alive.

Mammon stops first, distancing himself just enough to where their lips barely touch. Tentatively, he asks, “This… this makes up for last night, yeah?” His lips brush against hers with each word.

MC doesn't want to talk, but they're too close to just silently ask. She opts for a quick, “What do you mean?”

“I wanted our first kiss to-” he stops midsentence, a little bashful by the words. He rephrases, “I wanted to be gentler. But I couldn’t hold myself back once I felt your lips.”

“I didn’t mind at all,” she reassures as she smoothly rubs her nose on his. Afterwards, she furthers the distance for a better look at him as she says, “In fact, I like it when you’re assertive.”

“Don’t say such weird stuff all of a sudden!” An embarrassed expression appears on his face. “Geeze, it’s kinda scary when you act so sweet.” He thinks for a moment until he decides to tell her, “But, you could do more of that…you know, if ya wanted.”

MC feels as though she needs to put his mind to ease. “I like you, Mammon.” She’s sure to enunciate this, clearly saying his name so there’s no doubt about who she’s talking about.

He’s at a loss for words at this point, stunned. A smile soon creeps on his face and the words he finally comes up are filled with self-praise. “Of course ya do!” Secretly though, he’s relieved by what she said. The affirmation of her feelings fills him with confidence.

The conversation continues with MC reiterating that she, unfortunately, needs to go out for groceries. She furthers the argument by reminding him that his twelve hours are up.

A demand for one more kiss is his response, which she gladly indulges. He steadies her with his hands once more, as if it’s a need to feel her body while they kiss. It’s more fervent this time around after hearing her confession; his emotions seemingly exploding into her lips.

The first to pull away this time was MC, sensing that Mammon would never stop. She can’t leave if the kiss never ends, right? Looking at him, she can see he’s visibly disappointed with his eyes still closed.

When he opens them, it’s only slightly and he’s sure to not meet her eyes. If he sees her, it’ll only cause him to try to make her stay again. Instead, he rushes her along. “Just hurry up so you can get back, will ya?”

MC slips back on the clothes from the night before. Stopping short of the door, she turns to face him once more and pauses, pondering on whether she should express the idea on her mind. Ultimately, she chooses to tease him with the one other reason she had prepared to use against him.

“You know,” she gets his attention. “I was gonna entice you with some of my homemade ramen.” The jestful smile on her face cannot be hidden, no matter the amount of lip biting. “But looks like I don’t have to now.”

The speed at which Mammon disregards his previous determination to not look at MC is unimaginable. In fact, he completely abandons the notion to let her go. He hops out of bed almost as swiftly as his stare and bounds for the troublemaker. Reaching her before she can get away, he wraps his arms around her and brings her into a tight embrace of no escape. He’s back to preventing her from leaving. Not until she promises to make his ramen.

In between fits of giggles, MC manages to spill that she planned on doing that anyway. When she gets let go, she gives Mammon one last playful look before she sets off to buy the ingredients of his favorite dish of hers.

#obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me #obey me shall we date #mammon x mc #the lingerie game

[tl-notes]

Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 9 Notes

...設立から大分地盤が固まってきており、少しずつだが、業態は改善されている。

One thing to note here is that Kobayashi(‘s narration) isn’t saying the company has already made solid improvements, it’s that the company has finally established itself somewhat (as it was only founded relatively recently, and typically new companies are especially busy while trying to get off the ground) and now is starting to make improvements.

Similarly in the second sentence, it’s not “was” slow going, it’s “is still” slow going, and the working conditions “are” improving, not “have improved.”

This is がんば ganba, short of course for がんばって ganbatte, which I’m sure most of you are familiar with: the (in)famous “do your best.”

I only mention it because I like this shortened version of it. Ganba!

This is a fun little idiom(?)/saying: 鼻で笑う hana de warau (conjugated as hana de warawareta), lit. to laugh using the nose. It’s used to describe laughing at someone you’re looking down on for whatever reason (not necessarily in a super serious way, could just be a friend being dumb etc.; in this case it’s Elma’s being naive).

Typically it refers to like a “heh-but-through-the-nose” kind of “laugh,” but as you can see in this scene (where clearly Kobayashi is laughing with the mouth, even starting with “pff” lips) it works idiomatically even if the laughing isn’t only through the nose.

You may have heard that Japan is/was a “lifetime employment” country, where typically people would get hired right out of school and stay at that company until retirement. While that’s much less true today than it was even a couple of decades ago (and has become kind of controversial in ways), it’s still much more common of a practice than in say the US.

One result of this is that there’s a much bigger distinction placed between hiring people in spring as part of the annual graduation rush (the Japanese school year ends in March), and mid-career hiring. Typically you can’t participate in the fresh grad hiring if you aren’t one, even if you’re new to the field in question. 

For larger employers (i.e. 5k+ employees), roughly two-thirds of all hirings come from fresh grads, and only small employers (<300 employees) hire more mid-careerists than people directly out of school.

Of course, this split tends to apply mostly to “standard” full time jobs, not so much part time, and is not necessarily a thing in every industry/at every company.

Just as a minor point of clarity, this “organized text” in Elma’s document refers to the phrase まとめられた文章 matomerareta bunshou. In a literal sense, matomerareta can mean organized/consolidated etc., and bunshou text/passages, but meaning-wise it’s more like “writing that gets its point across clearly/cleanly.” 

This is a pretty big compliment and a very useful skill to have in organizations like this, as writing such that people can quickly and easily understand exactly what you’re trying to say often saves a ton of time and frustration.

我々はエルマの気迫に押されるがままにその書類を読み始めた。

Another minor point, but where the English could imply that they were overwhelmed by Elma’s intensity through the act of reading her report, the Japanese implies more that they started reading it because of how intense Elma was being. 

It doesn’t really make much of a difference either way, but it stuck out a little for me. 

To justify mentioning it, I guess I’ll explain the grammar point Kobayashi uses: されるがままに sareru ga mama ni. Sareru is a generic verb/verb conjugation for having something done to you (technically here it’s 押される, to be “pushed/pressed/pressured”), and mama refers to a state, condition, or “way” (like “do it this way”).

Put together, the whole phrase is used to indicate “you” do/did something that someone else wants you to, without (meaningful) opposition. (Something similar in raw meaning but with a very different connotation would be “going with the flow.”)

If a friend says “hey let’s go do something,” and next thing you know you’re out bowling despite preferring to stay at home, this is you.

You can stick the mama ni to various other things as well to come up with a similar idea, but without the sareru the nuance may end up different. 

The word for clairvoyance here is 千里眼 senrigan, lit. “eye(s) [that can see] a thousand li”, li being a Chinese unit of measurement for length (shorter than a mile, but for general purposes “eyes that see a thousand miles” is basically the gist).

Despite the perhaps physical-sounding nature of the term, it does actually describe the same power as “clairvoyance” in English: being able to perceive things outside your actual range of vision, including potentially into people’s hearts and minds etc.

Hence why it’s a thousand screen display, when she updates it with tech knowledge:

“Tainted by work” here is 職業病 shokugyou-byou, lit. an occupational disease. The “proper” definition is a disease one gets from working in a particular job, such as black lung for coal miners or even posture-related health issues for desk workers. 

Additionally, it’s used colloquially to refer to noticeable habits or quirks that people in a certain profession pick up, like a baker always waking up super early or a programmer using programming lingo out of context in normal conversation. The latter being especially noticeable in Japanese, as a lot of such terms are English in origin.

“Shocking” here is a fun word: ドン引き don-biki. “Don” here is added just for emphasis; the main meaning revolves around 引き hiki/biki, from the verb 引く hiku, meaning to pull. 

The idea is that someone does/says something that you recoil from. Maybe it’s gross (“I only shower once a week”), maybe it’s mean (“They didn’t smile enough so I didn’t leave a tip.”), maybe it’s creepy (“I sent like 30 texts yesterday but still no reply.”), just anything that has you feeling like you might want to create some distance because... phew. 

It’s kind of similar to the current use of “cringe” as an adjective/noun, though with less of an internet-slang feel* to it, and generally used more as something the speaker is doing rather than describing whatever/whoever is being cringe. 

(*I think it started being used popularly in this way in the early-to-mid 90s, with the “don”biki variant specifically popping up around 2005.)

A “Premium Friday” is the last Friday of the month, where you get to leave work at 3 pm. It is largely theoretical. 

The idea was created by the Japanese government as a way to reduce working hours and encourage domestic spending (boost demand), but it has not been implemented by all that many employers, and especially not many smaller employers. There isn’t, after all, any mandate or government-provided incentive for doing so.

Evidence from the places that did implement it suggests it is actually good for the economy, but good luck convincing bosses to give extra paid time off.

“Last Friday of the month” was chosen because most people get paid on the 25th each month (Japan tends to pay monthly instead of every two weeks), so it would usually be right after payday, when people are more willing to get spendy.

Kobayashi saying eight hours here reminded me of a “fun” fact: the typical Japanese work day is eight hours plus a one hour break. Plus a one hour break, not with. So a typical work day is actually nine hours. Most commonly 8 to 5 or 9 to 6. Not many “nine-to-fives” here.

The characters for Joui are 上井, which usually read as Kamii or Uwai. It’s “Joui” because that means, when written as 上位, “superior.” As in “a superior life-form.” Like a dragon, say.

でも、ゆっくりやる事業改善案を見せてもらえたじゃない？

This one is actually kind of a critical mistake. In the English it sounds like she’s talking about the improvement proposal that Elma made and that the boss looked at. In the Japanese though, she’s talking about a different plan, one the boss showed them*, that is similar in idea but is going to take longer to be fully implemented**. So we’re being told that while Elma didn’t get what she wanted as fast as she wanted it, it is still basically going through at a slower pace.

*In ”見せてもらえた misete moraeta,” the misete vs mite means they were the ones who got shown something, rather than the ones who got someone to look at their stuff. 

**Which you can tell from the ゆっくりやる yukkuri yaru, where yaru is basically “do” and yukkuri means (in this case) at an unhurried pace.

(Re previous note: Hence why she says “immediately” here.)

“Black (ブラック)” and “white (ホワイト)” in the context of Japanese employers refers to how well employees are treated: a company with good benefits/pay, reasonable levels of overtime, and feels safe to work at is ��white,” while a company that has excessive overtime, often pays poorly, breaks labor laws, and allows harassment to fester is “black.” 

While “white company” was created simply in contrast to the term “black company,” the latter finds its origins in front businesses for organized crime, which were called “black” in the sense of “illegal” (similar to “black market” or something being in a “grey area”). Given the international reputation of Japanese work life, you can imagine that “black company” as a term sees much more use.

There’s been some discussion about maybe replacing it due to the racial implications (especially since it uses the English word “black”), but while typically English translations drop the color for that reason (e.g. ブラック企業大賞, an “award” given to Japan’s worst employer each year, is officially “Most Evil Corporation of the Year Award” in English), it hasn’t really penetrated to the mainstream at this point.

The rice there is in a 飯盒 hangou, a metal container that looks… like that, and is the stereotypical item of choice for cooking rice while camping. It has its origins in the mess kits used by the military, but these days they’re primarily marketed as portable rice cookers for camping use. 

You can get round ones too, but the bean shape is very popular.

“Settings” here is 設定 settei, lit. exactly that, “setting(s).” E.g. if you open a computer program and look at the settings menu, it’ll be settei in the Japanese language settings (settei). 

I bring it up here because there’s a bit of a difference in how it gets used colloquially like this. In English, the “setting” for a story typically refers to where and when it’s set. In Japanese, “setting” in that sense is usually 舞台 butai. But settei is still used when talking about fiction, just in a different, more expansive way.

Often in these cases settei is used to refer to the various conceits that provide the context in which the story takes place. In this show, for example, one such “setting” is that dragons are real: another is that magic exists. It comes up especially often in fantasy/sci-fi type stuff where there are major distinctions between that universe and the real world—not that stories in a real-world setting don’t have settei of their own, but they often are lumped into descriptions of the plot in that case (”a dragon comes to live with an office worker in her apartment”).

It also refers to the “settings” of characters, like name or age, and things like “they run a bakery that’s going out of business and are trying to save it.” Basically all the details you’d have in a character profile.

It also gets used in conversation to refer to pretend things or (basically) lies: like here, where Saikawa thinks Shouta is playing pretend with his ley-lines talk, or e.g. if someone is trying to tell you some outlandish story (“my uncle works at Nintendo…” or someone asking for love life advice for “their friend”) and you’re just like “Okay so that’s the settei here, I see.”

Not really a big deal, but Elma’s line here in Japanese implies she won’t let Tohru call her that anymore (see her もう mou). Tohru’s response is also more of a “I haven’t been?”, since of course she wasn’t aware of Elma’s-mental-image-Tohru tormenting Elma in the previous scene:

The word for “full of” in the title here is ざんまい zanmai (a suffix form of 三昧 sanmai), usually meaning that there’s a whole lot of [whatever] to immerse oneself in. I mostly bring it up because there’s a famous restaurant chain called Sushi Zanmai that specializes in, obviously, sushi.

And you know, Elma is a water dragon that looks kinda like an eel… I’m just sayin’…

Not really a translation note, but wild that Elma didn’t even touch her parfait. (Not so wild that Fafnir finished his so quickly.) Serious business ahead...

“Genuinely” here is 素直に sunao ni, where the “ni” is used like “-ly” to make sunao work as an adverb. Sunao itself is an interesting word that falls into that category of “simple concept that is often hellish to translate.”

For some context, the first character, 素, is also used in the word 素顔 sugao, which is a face without makeup and 素材 sozai, basically raw ingredients/materials. The second, 直, is used in words like 直線 chokusen, a straight line, or 正直 shoujiki, honest.

Put them together, and you’ve got a word with connotations of directness and being unadorned. The original definition of the word tends toward “simple, natural” in the sense of e.g. life growing up on a rural farm. 

The more common use for it these days is to describe people and their actions. Positively, it can mean something similar to a person being happy to help, or kind of like the opposite of conniving; open, frank, genuine. Less positively, it can mean someone is too trusting and easy to trick into doing things OR someone who is “too honest” and says hurtful things. 

(If it helps: tsundere characters are often described as explicitly not sunao.)

In this case, the idea is that Tohru accepted the invitation easily as-is, without putting any conditions on it, or doing any “ugh, what a pain, do I have to, jeez” rigamarole—she just accepted. Another way you could put it in this case might be “It’s even more unusual for Tohru to accept an invitation like this without a fuss.”

Just to point out the hand on head thing again.

Also just to point out that this is another example of otsukare, as a reminder of how ubiquitous that word is.

And it makes a good place to end on: thanks for reading!

#maidragon #Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid #kobayashi-san chi no maid dragon #translation notes #anime

[penguintransporter]

Every You, Every Me (a Leon Goretzka story) chapter II

I know it’s been a while, but I re-wrote this part maybe seven, eight times, only to settle on something completely different. Hope you like it, and I apologise if it is a bit too long (you know me). Tell me what you think about it, every heart, message, and reblog means much more than you can imagine. It needs some editing, but I will get around to do it sometime later. 

Part I

Sofie rested her hands on her waist, overlooking the mountain of clothes piled on her bed — different shapes, colours, patterns and prints, interlacing and weaving in an incomprehensible bundle on top of her comforter. She didn’t know where to start, and for a moment, she wished she could wipe it away with a snap of her fingers, and be over with it.

She was tired after having a sleepless night, and she was hungry, but she had been putting it off for too long, and she knew it had to be done. 

Shaking her head a bit, Sofie picked up a pair of black, over-the-knee boots from the top of the pile — the soft leather feeling smooth against the skin of her fingertips. She remembered the day when she bought them, matching them with a strappy top and a mid-calf, satin skirt — cashing out the last cents of her scholarship money in the outfit, hoping to catch his eye.  

The confidence she felt when she made her way through the crowd in the outfit she couldn’t afford and with her makeup and hair immaculately done, trying to fit in with the people he invited to his birthday party — it all felt ridiculous and a bit childish in retrospective. The glances they shared across the room, the smile on his face when he opened the present she got him, the random touch of his fingertips against her bare back when he guided her to the bar, and the clearest of them all, the bitter taste in her mouth when he left with Yvonne — the girl he ended up dating for the next six months. 

As she watched his figure walk out with his strong arm around the pretty blonde in luxurious dress, Sofie knew that the best thing would be to just give up, as any sane person in her place would, but she just couldn’t bring herself to listen to her brain. Instead, she booked a hairdresser the next morning, dyeing her hair in lighter colour and waited for him to notice it, feeding on the crumbs of his attention and sticking to it like a moth to the flame. 

Yet, she was blind, diving deep into the pit of unrequited love, shedding the layers of her real self along the way, not thinking about consequences or the future.

Sofie breathed out a sigh before lifting up a dress from her bed — short and covered in sequins, and she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the mere thought of owning it, let alone wearing it. There was nothing wrong with the dress itself, but the cut, length and style of it, it was all, but something she felt comfortable wearing. Folding it gingerly, she glanced back at the clothes in front of her — realisation of how much she had changed herself for Leon hitting her like a train. 

Sofie knew better than that.

Sofie was about to throw the dress behind her, in the same pile with her overpriced boots when her phone buzzed loudly on her dresser, startling her. Dropping it back on the pile, Sofie made her way towards the device that was hidden among one too many notebooks and course books resting on the IKEA piece before picking it up and smiling at the name written across the screen. 

“You actually did it!” Elle screamed from the other side of the line causing the other girl to twist her lips and move her phone away from her ear for a second. If there was one distinctive separating the two of them, it was the different levels of their loudness at any given moment. “Turn the fucking camera on, and let me see it!” her best friend demanded — her voice still too loud for Sofie’s or anyone's comfort. 

“Language,” Sofie laughed, fumbling with her phone, “you are not on the pitch, Ellenore.” Sofie finally turned on the front camera, pulling a face at Elle as her friend squealed with happiness upon seeing her hair, or rather lack of it. “I guess you like it then,” Sofie muttered, patting the top of her head, feeling slightly embarrassed with the attention she was getting. 

“I love it,” Elle breathed out. “I was worried at first when you texted, but you have one sexy head, Sofie. How does it feel? Naked?”

“Light and cold,” Sofie responded with a shake of her head, “almost had a heart attack when I woke up yesterday morning and saw myself in the mirror.”

Elle laughed softly, adjusting her large bag across her shoulders as she walked along the small street that led to her apartment block - the red jacket with the Bayern Munich logo zipped all the way to her chin. 

“What’s the mess about?” Elle changed the topic, making Sofie turn her head away to look at the clothes and shoes strewn across her bed. 

“I’ve been—” Sofie paused to make herself some space before sitting down at the foot of her bed, “decluttering. Or something like that.”

Elle’s face dropped for a second, but she quickly masked it with a supporting grin that Sofie more than appreciated. If anyone knew about the heartbreak and the identity crisis that Sofie was going through, it was Elle. 

“Are you getting rid of everything?” Elle asked. “Will you sell it or give away?”

“I don’t know what to do with it yet, but I know that it has to go,” Sofie admitted. She felt the tears glaze her vision, but she quickly gave Elle a small smile, trying to stop herself from being too pathetic. “I’ve made such a mess out of my life, Elle,” she paused, giving herself a moment to bite back her tears, “I could have travelled half of the world with the money I spent on frills and sequins, and I hate frills and sequins.”

“I think you are being too hard on yourself, Sofie,” Elle said as Sofie stretched her legs in front of her, “and travelling half of the world is more expensive than you think. Unless you are someone who is comfortable wearing the same harem pants and baja hoodie for more than two and showering once a week,” she added with an innocent smile, and Sofie couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I am just disappointed that I let myself go this far,” Sofie admitted, focusing on the slippers on her feet - soft material worn out and discoloured. “Plenty fish in the sea, and I was pulling on the biggest catch. How silly of me.”

Elle was quiet as Sofie got up, making her way out of the room and towards the kitchen, closing the doors behind her. One thing was keeping herself busy with it, and completely different to stare at it and do nothing.

“Did you talk to him? Or Serge? They are back from Trentino, or at least that’s what I’ve heard from the girls at the training.” Elle stopped to unlock her apartment doors. 

Despite seeing that Elle was concentrating on twisting the locks, Sofie nodded, pouring some of the juice from the container into her glass. “I had a missed call from Leon on Tuesday,” she took a small sip of her drink, relishing the coolness trickling down her throat, “and I called back. I know I shouldn’t have,” Sofie whispered, rubbing at her eye with her free hand, placing her glass at the edge of the sink, “but he didn’t mention anything about coming back early. Then again, I didn’t ask either, maybe I should have. And why am I being so pathetic, it's not like we had something going on? It was me running after him...”

“Sofie,” Elle sighed quietly — her voice careful, “I know it’s not easy to deal with the heartbreak, and you shouldn’t keep it inside. I am here, you know that?”

Sofie nodded, trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in her stomach despite the juice. “Yeah,” she answered slowly, “but, I hav—” Sofie stopped, running her hand across the top of her head, finding comfort in the simple action of touching it. “How was your training session?” she asked, changing the subject clumsily as the doorbell rang out throughout her apartment. Sofie’s stomach grumbled at the mere thought of eating lunch soon.

“Did you order food?” Elle smirked, “sushi? Noodles?”

“Indian actually,” Sofie replied, walking towards the doors through the small hallway before unlocking the massive doors, only to stop in her tracks — the smile she had prepared for the delivery person faltering as quickly as it appeared.

**

“You know, Serge,” Sofie grinned as she twirled the last remaining of her already cold tea in her cup, “staring at me won’t make it grow back any faster,” she spoke, downing the leftovers of her drink while grinning at her friend over the lip of her mug. He only laughed in response, and Sofie rolled her eyes playfully before glancing briefly at Leon.

Ever since Sofie welcomed them in her apartment, Leon had been acting strange, quietly sitting at the edge of her couch — leg bouncing as he glanced at his phone every few seconds. He wasn’t as talkative as Serge most of the time, but having him say only few words was not a common thing. Sofie felt that there was something on his mind, and that he was going through something, but she didn't know how to approach him without being too noisy.

“I wasn’t staring at all,” Serge replied, still grinning, “and if I did, it’s because it looks really good.”

“Do girls drop their panties for you all the time, Gnabry?” Sofie asked, sarcastically. “Your charm is amazing.”

“I am being honest here,” Serge clarified, trying to contain his laughter, “it does look good. Right?” he admitted, looking towards Leon, but his friend ignored him — eyes still trained on the shiny device. Serge smiled in disbelief, glancing at Sofie with a goofy face before leaning closer to his friend and teammate, nudging him with his knee, “Leon? I am talking to you. Are you even here?”

“Hmm? What?” Leon suddenly asked, looking up from his phone, startled at the sound and motion coming from his left. “Did you say something?”

“Sofie’s new haircut. It looks good, no?” Serge repeated, much slower, stretching out every syllable for the confused German. 

“Yeah,” Leon started, giving Sofie a long stare which made her heartbeat accelerate, “yeah, it does,” he repeated somewhat quieter, glancing at his phone again for a millisecond. “Can I make some fresh coffee, Sofie? I feel like some coffee?” he asked suddenly— eyes never leaving hers, and for some reason Sofie felt scrutinized under his gaze.  

Sofie was a bit confused with the urgency in his voice, but nodded quickly, watching him get up and straighten his dark jeans in a hurry and putting his phone in the back pocket. He gave her a small smile in response before moving around the coffee table and walking out of the room, not looking back when Serge commented something that Sofie didn’t catch. There was a strange feeling inside of her stomach as she watched him walk out, before she leaned forward in her seat, giving Serge a quizzical look on which he only shrugged with his shoulders. 

“I’ll go and check,” she whispered, getting up as well, and quickly following Leon into the kitchen. 

He was resting his large hands against the counter, watching Sofie’s cheap coffee machine drip the liquid in the large container. In the small space of her kitchen, crammed with the table, uncomfortable chairs, and way too many plants and random knick-knacks, Leon’s physique was overwhelming. Sofie stood in the doorway, quietly observing him, and nervously bringing her hands together, unwilling to speak out and ruin his peace. 

“You’ve been really quiet,” she finally said, moving away from the doorway and stepping inside the room and beside him. She wasn’t the shortest girl out there, but he was still towering over her, especially now that she was only wearing her slippers. 

Leon briefly glanced at her — his eyes moving from her eyes to her hair, and down to her lips for a split of a second before looking back at the coffee machine again, making her heart soar. Up close, she could see the fine smile lines around his eyes and lips. He was beautiful.

“I didn’t sleep well,” he answered quietly, rubbing at the stubble along his chin, “didn’t help that Serge chatted my ear off on our flight back to Munich either. He sat with Hummels, but he shooed him over to my seat,” he added, giving her a small, one-sided grin.

Sofie smiled as well, turning around and leaning against the sink — the aluminium chilling her back through her worn-out tee. “He’s got enough energy for the entire squad, no?” 

“Indeed he does.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and the only sound was the coffee machine loudly filtering the bitter liquid in the scratched pot. Sofie took a deep breath as she stared in front of herself, focusing on the rotting banana in her fruit basket on the dining table, and before she could stop herself, the words that she was supposed to suppress and keep inside, left her mouth. 

“If you want, you can stay and take a nap on the sofa as usual,” she suggested, and almost instantly regretted it. She had created a list of unwritten rules that were supposed to help her get over Leon, and offering him couch to nap on was not one of them.

“Thanks, but I think I will head out whenever Serge makes a move,” Leon quickly answered, and Sofie felt a pinch at her heart. “You seem busy too.”

“As you wish,” she nodded, moving away from the sink as she watched him pour himself a large cup of coffee, dropping a cube of brown sugar in it before taking a small sip. “You sure you’re okay, Leon?” she asked again. 

“Yeah, all is fine, don’t worry,” he smiled, giving her another long stare, and under his gaze she yet felt naked and exposed. “Shall we go out for dinner tomorrow evening? Would be nice to catch up. It’s been a while,” Leon asked as she was about to walk out of her kitchen and back to where Serge was sitting, but stopped in her tracks upon hearing Leon’s voice behind her.

Sofie took a hesitant breath — her heart starting to beat faster in her chest, but she still managed to smile when she turned around, giving him a small nod. “Sure. Sounds like a plan.”

Wrong answer, Sofie.

Wrong answer. 

tags: 

@footballerimaginess, @littlebitofbluelittlebitofcoffee, @jordanspetkovics, @disneydaddyevans​

If there is someone I forgot to tag, please let me know. 

#leon goretzka #bayern munich #football fanfiction #footballer fanfiction #footballer oneshot #leon goretzka imagine #leon goretzka fanfiction #leon goretzka oneshot

[jombocostello]

Lost in Translation (Polnareff x Reader)

Anonymous asked: Hey! Would you mind writing a little Polnareff fic where the reader tried to learn French pick up lines to finally drop some hints, but messes up/forgets a word and gets embarrassed? 🥺

Now this is just too sweet. I changed the request up a little bit, I hope you don’t mind!! (Also if you spot any mistakes with the French, please let me know!! I’m not sure how much my high school education of French prepared me for writing Polnareff fanfiction lmao)

-----

"(Y/N), what the hell are you doing?"

You jump, tearing your eyes from the book you're scouring. You look at Joseph, who's sitting a few feet away from you on his hotel bed. He frowns. "It's three in the morning. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I... Well..." You laugh nervously, attempting to discreetly slide the book under your pillow as you search for the right words. "Yeah. I probably should be."

Joseph stands up and turns on the lamp that sits between you two, and you wince when the light hits your eyes. "But seriously, what have you been doing?" he asks again as he sits back down. "I've been trying to get some sleep and all I can hear is you muttering nonstop over there."

You can feel yourself start to blush, and you fix your eyes on the fascinating corner of the door behind Joseph. "Ah... I was just reading out loud. It helps me take it in better, y'know?" It's not a very good lie, and though you're not looking at Joseph, you know he's not buying it. "Half of enjoying a good book is visualization, isn't it?" You're audibly anxious.

"Fine. But what exactly are you reading?" You start to sweat; he's ruthless in his interrogation.

"Uh, it's... I mean you're probably not interested in it." Joseph's patience suddenly runs thin, and he leaps up and snatches the book out of your hand. "What the hell?" you shout, forgetting about the thin hotel walls and attempting rather aggressively to grab the book back.

Joseph, thanks to his powerful Joestar genes, is easily able to hold you off. "Hmm, what is... English-to-French dictionary...?" He looks up at you, confused, and you freeze. He rolls his eyes. "(Y/N), I'm failing to see what's so embarrassing about this. You want to learn a new language? More power to you - " Mid-sentence, he seems to come to a revelation, and you wince. You had almost made it out alive.

"...You're learning this for Polnareff, aren't you?"

"Isn't that the million dollar question?" you mumble, gluing your eyes to the floor. "Yes."

You can hear him horribly containing his laughter. "You've - you've got dedication, I'll give you that!" Little giggles are starting to escape him, and as he suddenly begins to howl with laughter, you try again to grab the paperback out of his hands.

Without breaking a sweat, he shoves you back onto your bed and starts leafing through the book. "Oh my God," Joseph wheezes, wiping a tear away with one hand and holding the book close to his face with the other. "I mean I knew you had feelings for the guy, but I had no idea you loved him like this!" The word 'love' hits you viscerally and you cover your face with your hands, trying to push down your unbearable embarrassment. "Oh God, that's so cute."

"Shut up!" you hiss, finally managing to wrestle the book back from Joseph. "I don't have to explain myself to you," you spit with as much rudeness as you can muster.

"You don't have to explain a thing, my friend," Joseph replies without missing a beat. "I can read you like a book right now."

"Oh my God," you groan, turning away and looking down at the bed. Your face is on fire, and you gingerly set the book down next to your pillow and you fold your arms on your lap. "Just... Fine. You got me, okay?"

"I guess I did get you! I really didn't mean to." Joseph's laughter seems to have finally ended, and he watches as you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. "Sorry for laughing, (Y/N). I'm not trying to make fun of you, I promise - it's just so ridiculous that you're going to all these lengths to win Polnareff over when I'm sure it shouldn't be that difficult."

"Shouldn't be that... What do you mean?" You momentarily put aside your anger when you hear Joseph's words.

"Isn't it obvious? You two are perfect for each other. I'm positive that Polnareff shares your feelings."

"That's funny," you respond, huffing out a little laugh. "He's always flirting with girls, isn't he? I know you've seen him do it."

Joseph rolls his eyes. "Of course I have. That's just the way he is. He can be a bit...familiar with the young women he meets, but I'm fully convinced that you're the person he has his eyes on." Before you can interject with another rebuttal, Joseph speaks again. "Don't argue with me on this. I've been alive far longer than you and I've seen lots of people fall in love in this lovely world!"

You don't want to admit it, but Joseph's actually giving you some confidence here. "You, well... You might be right." Joseph grins. "I'm still gonna try to figure out some of this stupid language, though. I think he'll be happy to hear it - I mean, he's been away from home for a long time." You swing your legs up onto the bed and cross them, grabbing the book and flipping it open as you do.

Joseph marvels at the sheer concentration in your eyes as you force your way through the paperback dictionary. He can't believe how in love you are; it's honestly making him a little teary-eyed. "Well, goodnight," he says as he climbs back under the covers. "Want me to leave the light on?"

"If that's okay, yeah." Joseph nods and lays his head down on his pillow. As he shuts his eyes and drifts off to sleep, he listens to you faintly mutter to yourself, "Je t'aime. Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime..."

-----

The next day comes quickly, and unfortunately you haven't really slept enough to prepare for it. You'd stayed up all night after your little encounter with Joseph, so you're left with about an hour and a half of sleep to get through the day. You and Joseph quickly get ready, and you go to meet the rest of the group in the lobby.

You yawn loudly as you step out of the elevator, and Joseph takes a second to laugh at you before following. You elbow him in the arm as you walk up to Jotaro, Avdol, Iggy, and Polnareff. Kakyoin's still resting up in the hospital; you all miss him dearly.

"Good morning!" Avdol calls, watching as you shuffle into the little group. "Did you two sleep well?"

You simply shake your head, and Joseph laughs a little at your severe expression. "(Y/N) stayed up all night reading," he explains, but after you shoot a look his way he shuts his mouth.

"Oh, really?" Polnareff asks brightly, raising his eyebrows. You look up at him and feel your heart start pounding; if he asks what you were reading you think you might drop dead on the spot. "Didn't take you for the reading type."

You nearly laugh at that, looking incredulously up at Polnareff. "What the hell does that mean - are you calling me dumb?"

"No!" he says hastily, eyes wide. "I mean - maybe." You both start laughing now, and Joseph leaves to return the hotel keys and check out. "In all seriousness," Polnareff starts with a little smile on his face, "I just didn't think you could sit still long enough to enjoy a novel. You seem like a more active person, I guess."

You honestly can't - your little French study sessions have been nothing short of torture. Still, you just shrug. "Everyone enjoys a good story, don't they?"

"Yeah." Polnareff turns to Jotaro and Avdol, who have been chatting to each other. "So, what's on the agenda today?" he asks, leaning against the wall behind him.

"Well..." Avdol thinks to himself for a moment. "We're a few hours away from Cairo. I think we should stay here for a while longer and then start heading there at around midday - so we can arrive under the cover of night."

"You're a good strategist, Avdol," you comment. "I would've just had us all drive into the city and parade around to find a hotel."

Avdol huffs out a laugh. "As much as I'd like to do that, our lives are in danger. We'll have to be really careful once we get to Cairo. I'm sure Dio has eyes everywhere."

"Yeah." You turn to Jotaro, who's been silent so far. Iggy's on the ground next to him, looking as pissed off as a dog possibly can. "How did you sleep last night?"

He just shrugs. "Same old. It was nice having the room to myself, save for this little asshole." He jabs his thumb in Iggy's direction, and you snort. "But yeah, it was fine. I just wanna get this over with. I've been..." He glances down at his shoes. "I've been thinking about my mom."

You'd almost forgotten about the original reason Joseph and his grandson set out on this mission. You had heard from the Foundation a few days ago that Holly Kujo's condition was only worsening. "You're gonna see her soon, huh? When we get to Cairo we'll practically be in Dio's backyard."

Jotaro nods. "Yep. Can't wait to beat the shit out of him."

You grin and nod vigorously. "I'm with you there."

Joseph returns to your little group, and the five of you all huddle together. "So," he starts, taking a deep breath. "Are you thinking we should wait, Avdol?"

"Yes. I was just saying that we should give it a few hours before we get on the road."

Joseph seems satisfied with that answer. "Perfect. So until then... I guess we can do a bit of sightseeing! We should pair up and try to stay at least a little close by. I'll stick with Avdol, and Jotaro - would you mind going with Iggy? If anything happens, both of your stands would be more than capable of taking care of things." Jotaro rolls his eyes and hums in agreement. "Okay. That leaves you two."

The sheer glee in Joseph's shit-eating grin as he looks at you and Polnareff honestly astounds you. Polnareff doesn't seem to notice, and he looks down at you. "Well this'll be fun! I haven't gotten to spend much time with you in the past couple days, (Y/N)." There's a pure affection in Polnareff's voice as he speaks to you, and you feel yourself fall even deeper in love. "We'll see you guys here in three hours, alright?" Joseph nods, waving goodbye with a sickly sweet smile, and Polnareff takes your hand and drags you through the revolving door.

The sun feels great on your skin. You follow Polnareff out, looking at your hand clasped in his as he leads you down the street a ways. He makes you feel so, so happy, and you're overcome by the desire to tell him that. "Where are you going?" you call, laughing a little when you realize you've been following him without having a clue where he's taking you.

He halts suddenly, and you run right into his back. "Oh, shit! Sorry." He spins around and rights you, peering down at your face. "That didn't hurt, did it?"

"N-no." You wince and feel your nose, which had rammed right into one of his shoulder blades. "I'm all good." After a thumbs-up for confirmation, Polnareff is satisfied. "So we're here?"

"Yep!" Polnareff gestures to the shop you're standing in front of. It's a café by the looks of it, and it seems pretty nice. "We passed it while we were driving in yesterday."

"Oh, cool!" Polnareff heads inside and you follow him. At the counter, Polnareff orders a couple pastries and two espressos for both of you. Once he gets his order, he hands you your espresso and walks out the door. He's really intent on getting the most out of these few hours of respite, it seems.

"Now that we have some food," he says, gesturing to the little bag of desserts, "we can have a picnic!" He starts walking briskly down the street, and you nearly have to jog to keep up with him.

"Did you spot this on the way in too?" you ask. He nods. "Damn, I missed so much. I was sleeping." He laughs, and you join in. After a few more minutes, you reach your destination.

It's a little park that overlooks a small, tranquil pond. "Oh, this is neat!" you say. "It's really pretty."

"Yeah." You look up at Polnareff as he gazes out at the scenery. You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time; he's usually being pestered by Iggy or attacked by some enemy stand user. You're really grateful that you get to share a calm, sweet moment with him before you have to head out to battle in Cairo.

You decide to take a seat on the grass a few feet away from the pond. Polnareff sits down beside you and carefully sets his espresso down on the grass, making sure it doesn't spill, and you do the same. You cross your legs as Polnareff reaches into the bag and pulls out a pastry.

"For you," he says, bowing his head as he hands you a croissant.

You laugh as you take it from him. "I'm honored," you reply, dipping your head in mock gratitude to Polnareff. He smirks a little and takes out a croissant for himself, leaning back and taking a big bite. You try yours, and it tastes amazing. "You're got a good eye," you tell Polnareff, your voice a little muffled as you eat. "This is really good."

"Well it's only natural that I would have an eye for cuisine," he replies with a smug grin. You reach over and slug him in the arm, and he lets out a startled laugh when you hit him. "Hey! It's true." You sigh and turn towards the pond, watching the little ripples in the water as the breeze gently brushes over it. Polnareff's still laughing a little beside you, and the whole scene suddenly feels completely and utterly romantic. You realize with a start that this is the perfect moment to try out your newly acquired language skills!

You pick up your espresso and take a sip; it's just as good as the food had been. Tentatively, you look over at Polnareff and find him staring out at the pond. "C'est un bon café," you say as nonchalantly as you can.

Polnareff nods and smiles faintly. "Oui, je suis d'accord," he replies, but the second the words leave his mouth he whips his head around, staring at you with wide eyes. "What did - did you just - was that French?" he sputters, starting to grin like an idiot.

You return the smile, nodding. "Oui. I'm glad you could understand me."

"Glad I could - God, (Y/N), you're so - " Polnareff suddenly reaches out and wraps you in a huge hug, knocking the wind from you as he practically pulls you into his lap.

"H-hey!" you yelp, laughing loudly as he rests his chin on your shoulder. He sighs, placing his hand at the base of your neck, and you feel a shiver run through you. After a moment, he pulls away and beams at you.

"I didn't know you knew French!" he says brightly; he looks ecstatic. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know it until a few days ago," you tell him with a little smile. "I've been picking it up little by little. I still barely know anything."

"You've been...learning it?" he asks softly, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah! I found a little dictionary at a shop about a week ago, and that's actually what I stayed up all last night reading. Can't say that I'm grasping it very well, but I'm giving it a shot just for you!" The smile drops from your face a bit when you notice that Polnareff's expression has grown somber.

"(Y/N)..." Your eyes widen when you notice tears welling up in Polnareff's eyes. "You've been such a good friend to me. You're always there to make me smile, and well, you've saved my life a few times too. But this, I - you don't know what it means to me."

You reach out and take his hands in yours, a little clumsily. "You're the one who makes me smile. You're my best friend." You're suddenly made acutely aware of the butterflies in your stomach, and you suck in a deep breath. It feels like it's now or never. "Polnareff, there's something I want to tell you." He blinks the tears from his eyes, and you hold his hands a little tighter. "I really - "

Before you can finish, you're punched in the jaw by an impossibly powerful fist. You fly back, landing hard in the grass a few feet away. As you stumble to your feet, swearing and clutching your face, you summon your stand. It fucking figures there's a stand user here. Sometimes you wonder if you're some sort of stand magnet.

Polnareff frantically pulls himself up and dashes over to you. "(Y/N)!" he shouts, holding you by the shoulders and looking at your jaw. "Shit, are you alright?!"

You wince when Polnareff ghosts his fingers over the spot. "Probably not," you mutter, breathing in sharply through your nose. Polnareff freezes, and you shrug his other hand off of you. "We've gotta beat this guy, okay?"

"Y-yeah." Polnareff summons Silver Chariot and stands against your back, scanning the area for the stand or its user. You do the same, trying to push the pain out of your mind. "There!" Polnareff suddenly shouts, and you twist your head around.

It's a man; he's standing on the other side of the pond. He stalks up to the two of you, and as he walks, his stand slowly materializes behind him. It's extremely threatening, with a build that could rival Star Platinum and deep-set, bright red eyes. You force yourself to approach him and Polnareff follows you. Your stand is an archer, suited for long-range battle, and Polnareff's works better at a closer range, so you're usually able to cover each other's blind spots. Your stand pulls out an arrow and nocks it, aiming for the head of your enemy. "(Y/N), right?" he calls, a lax smirk on his face. "And Jean Pierre Polnareff." He and his stand take another step forward, and you tense. Polnareff's Silver Chariot is ready to strike at any moment. "Easy, easy!" he says, raising his hands on either side of his head. "I'm a fair man. Allow me to explain my stand to you."

You glance at Polnareff, and after a moment of hesitation he nods his head. Your stand lowers its bow while Silver Chariot points its rapier to the ground. The man slowly and surely approaches the two of you, and his stand waits beside him. "Thank you. Truce for now?" You grit your teeth and will yourself to nod. "I'm glad. Well, my stand is the Seven of Swords. Essentially, it's extremely powerful. I doubt you'll be able to get a single hit in, if I'm being honest." You can feel rage bubbling up inside you, and as hard as you try to fight it, you just can't kick the feeling. Your gaze flits to Polnareff; he looks just as angry as you.

Grimacing, you look back to the user. "My stand specializes in strength. Every punch it deals leaves a lasting effect - as I'm sure you've noticed, (Y/N)."

You want to scream. The smug look he's wearing and the searing pain in your face is all too much, and before he can continue, you have your stand quickly nock an arrow and fire. You hit him in his right shoulder - he had punched you with that arm - and he falls back, grasping at the wound. "Shit!" he shouts, leaning against his giant stand. With its left arm, Seven of Swords reaches out and yanks the arrow from its user's body.

You start to grin; it looks like you've knocked this guy down a notch. However, just when Polnareff moves to strike and you ready another arrow, he and his stand vanish. "What the hell?" Polnareff mutters, scanning the area. "Where could they have - "

"(Y/N), I'm disappointed!" You scream when the stand wraps its left arm around your neck, squeezing painfully but just lightly enough to let you remain conscious. The man leans in far too close and speaks. "You broke our truce. I suppose I can't be too angry... I wasn't exactly being completely truthful either." The stand's grip on you tightens, and you choke out a cough. Polnareff goes to slice through the arm around your neck, but before you even know what's happened, you're on the other side of the pond. Polnareff, now a great distance away, gapes at you before running over as quickly as he can.

"My Seven of Swords is a master of teleportation," the man announces. "Everything else is just a plus." His stand abruptly releases you, and as you gasp for air, the man grins. "I'm surprised by how easy it was to take care of you, (Y/N). Lord Dio had made you sound a lot tougher." You try to swear at him, but your voice is hoarse and barely understandable.

"(Y/N)!" You turn your head when Polnareff cries your name, and suddenly you're punched hard in the abdomen. You're knocked to the ground and your head smacks into the dirt, and the last thing you see before you lose consciousness is Polnareff's face, equal parts anguished and enraged.

-----

The first thing you note when you fade back into consciousness is a strong pain in your midsection. You groan, forcing your eyes open; looks like you were rescued. You're in your hotel room, and it seems like you're alone. You glance over at the window, gritting your teeth as you shift your aching neck, and you nearly laugh out loud when you see that stupid little dictionary sitting on your bed.

You hear the door open, and you turn to find Polnareff stepping through the doorway. "Hey," you say, your voice quieter than you'd intended.

He looks down at the sound of your voice and grins. "Glad to have you back," he replies softly. "I'm so relieved that you're alright." He carefully sits down beside you on the bed.

"Of course I'm alright." You crack a smile. "I wasn't gonna let that asshole kill me."

Polnareff laughs a little and nods. "Yeah, he was a real piece of shit. After he - after he knocked you out, I held him off for a little while until reinforcements arrived in the forms of Star Platinum and The Fool. The three of us had him crying like a baby."

"Thank God," you sigh. "He deserved it." You both fall into a little silence, neither of you quite sure of what to say. You remember exactly what you had been about to tell Polnareff when you were attacked, but you can't muster up the courage to try again now. "Even if it got fucked up at the end, thank you for the lovely afternoon," you finally say. "I really enjoyed our little picnic."

"So did I." Polnareff starts to speak more, but something catches his eye. You watch as he reaches over you and grabs something; it's the French dictionary. He peers down at it and starts flipping through the pages. Almost instantly he looks completely affronted, and you feel a laugh rise in your chest.

"What is it?" you ask him as he scoffs, shutting the book definitively and setting it back down.

"They made that thing so difficult to understand! It's so much simpler than that makes it out to be, really!" He shakes his head, clearly disappointed with the publication, and you let a little laughter escape. "How about this." He leans in towards you. "Instead of learning out of that stupid book, I can teach you! It'll be a lot more fun."

He's just so...charming. He's always so sincere, especially with you, and the pure kindness in his eyes as he speaks nearly takes your breath away. "That - that would be fun," you reply, too taken with him to think of anything else to say.

He grins. "Good. We can have your first lesson right now."

You laugh at that, making Polnareff jump a bit. "Already? What, am I gonna get homework too?"

He joins in on your laughter and shakes his head. "No, no, it'll be quick." Something in his expression softens, and you blink as he reaches out and places his hand gently over yours. He suddenly looks a lot more serious. "Tell me what I'm saying. Je suis amoureux de toi."

You open your mouth, softly whispering the words. Your mind's nearly a total blank; it seems you really didn't learn much from that dictionary. You're at least determined to get the beginning. "Ah... Je is 'I', so je suis would be 'I am',  right?"

Polnareff nods. He wraps his hand around yours and holds it, just as he had earlier today. "Yes. Je is 'I', suis is 'am'..." He lifts his other hand and entwines it with yours. You're not sure what he's saying but you allow yourself to hope, just a little.

Polnareff's voice is hardly above a whisper as he says, "Je suis amoureux de toi - I'm in love with you."

A huge smile breaks across your face and you feel like you're floating. When Polnareff sees your reaction, his smile widens as well, and he leans down and wraps you up in a careful hug. "I love you too," you murmur in his ear; you think you might burst into tears if you try to speak any louder. "I have for a while now. I'm so happy you - " Despite your best efforts, you feel yourself start to cry. Polnareff leans back a bit, and you're almost amused to see that he's crying too. You probably look like a couple of lovesick fools, and you're so, so, happy.

"I'll never be able to show you how much you mean to me, (Y/N)," Polnareff murmurs before pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. "How much it means to me that you care."

"Of course I care," you whisper back, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair. "I care because you mean the world to me."

Polnareff looks down into your eyes, and you both take in each other's expressions. "You know, I think we're perfect for each other," he breathes, and as you start to agree, he moves forward and captures your lips in a kiss.

Nothing has ever felt more right than Polnareff's lips on yours. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him as close as you possibly can. He parts from you for just a moment to help you sit up a bit, so that he doesn't cause the injury to your midsection any pain. You wince when a particularly sharp pang of pain hits you, and Polnareff softly runs his hand over your hair. After a moment, the feeling dissipates, and you kiss him again.

"Je t'aime," you breathe against his lips, and he smiles. You gently kiss the corner of his mouth and then rest your head on his shoulder. As he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, you whisper, "Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime..."

-----

It's pitch black out as Joseph drives the group's large car down the winding roads to Cairo, with only the faint radio and Avdol's occasional snores to keep him company. He isn't exactly happy about driving in these conditions, but you had needed a few extra hours of bedrest before you could start this little road trip. Every once in a while, he glances at the back seat, and he finds you, Jotaro, and Polnareff all fast asleep.

After a couple hours of driving, Joseph hears someone stir behind him. He glances up at the rearview mirror and watches as Polnareff rubs his eyes and groggily looks to his left. You're sleeping against him, with your head on his shoulder and one arm loosely wrapped around his midsection. Polnareff's mouth turns up in a little smile, and he carefully wraps his arm around your shoulder.

"So I see everything worked out for (Y/N)," Joseph comments. Polnareff looks up at him, surprised and a little embarrassed to find he was being watched, and Joseph just laughs shortly. "I've always known you two were going to end up together. You really are a perfect fit."

Polnareff's face goes red and he looks back at you. "...Yeah. I'm really lucky."

"Oh, I know!" Joseph laughs again, startling Polnareff. "You should've seen (Y/N) last night, pouring over the French language like their life depended on it. They wanted so badly to make you happy after this hell we've been through."

Polnareff almost feels like crying again. He can't believe how truly lucky he is to have found you. "Still," Joseph says, "it's not quite over yet." Polnareff watches Joseph's expression turn somber through the rear-view mirror. "We've still got to kill Dio."

"Yeah." As he gazes down at you, so peaceful in sleep, he feels a fire light in his mind. He'd do anything to keep you alive, and while killing Dio will surely be extremely difficult, he knows he's going to do it - for Joseph, for Jotaro, for Holly Kujo, and for you. "We'll do it. We'll kill him and we'll all be fine."

"You're quite the optimist," Joseph mutters, sighing. "I try to be as well, but I'm worried that our luck so far will finally catch up to us in this final battle."

Polnareff isn't quite sure what to say, but now there's no doubt in his mind that they'll succeed in the fight against Dio. He just sighs, careful not to disturb you, and rests his head against the car window. "Do you want me to stay awake with you?" he asks Joseph.

"No, I'm fine. We'll be there pretty soon." Polnareff nods and shuts his eyes, and Joseph quickly turns his eyes back to the road.

As Polnareff begins to doze off, he gently clasps your hand in his. He hasn't had a home for a long time; ever since he lost his sister, he hasn't known that feeling of having somewhere - or someone - you truly belong with. Now, next to you, he dares to hope he's feeling it again. He's always loved you, he's realizing - you've always made him feel this way, whenever you joked around together or fought side-by-side in battle. Knowing that you feel the same was the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Just before he falls asleep, he whispers a gentle, "I love you." He holds your hand a little tighter and finally drifts off.

Joseph casts one final glance at the two of you in the back seat. Unlike Polnareff, he's a little more worried about the potential outcome of the face-off with Dio. Maybe, though, just maybe - the endless love you two possess for one another will be what wins the fight.

#my writing #jean pierre polnareff #polnareff x reader #polnareff imagine #jojo x reader #jjba imagine #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #seven of swords guy was basically steely dan with a cooler stand #also thank you to madame sofia coppola for the title sorry for stealing it

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 9

Yay! Next chapter! True confessions, this *sorta* slow burn is killing me....and i’m the one writing it! (sorry not sorry?)

Warnings: some swearing, nothing really, Hvitserk being a good bro?

Words:7100 (I hope these longer chapters make up for the wait)

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @love-all-things-writing @southernbe​

Series Masterlist

The ringing of her phone had Kari dropping the leggings she was folding on her bed to quickly snatch it up. 

 "Albus!"

 The voice on the other end sighed. "You know I hate that nickname."

 Kari laughed, picking the leggings back up to fold. "But it fits you so perfectly."

 "I am not an old wizard."

 "I'll give you that, but you're studious, kind and too wise for someone your age. So close enough."

 "I suppose if I haven't been able to convince you to drop that nickname for the past ten years, I won't be able to now."

 "Nope." She cheerfully said. "So, how are you? Your mother still wreaking havoc in your life?"

 "She set me up on a date last week." He grumbled after a moment's hesitation. 

 In her mind, she could imagine him sitting at his desk with a slight furrow between his brows and lips pursed as he lamented his mother's involvement in his love life. This would not be the first time he complained to Kari about this topic. "Ohhhh? How did that go?" She asked, even if by his tone she could already guess his answer. 

 "I know my mother means well, but the women she thinks I should date…." He trailed off with a forlorn sigh. 

 "Not your type?"

 "No."

 "I'm sorry. You'll find someone and your mother won't be able to help but love them."

 He snorted inelegantly. "I won't hold my breath for that."

 "See, you're so wise." She teased, smiling as she folded a work shirt. "Now, what else is new since last month?"

 The two spent the next hour talking. It had become their tradition after she moved. Hearing the gentle cadence in his voice, his quiet chuckles, it sent a wave of nostalgia washing over her. He was the only person from England she still kept in communication with, the only one who knew where she was. The last string tying her to her prior life. Although she would not have labeled him her best friend, they were certainly close and even more so after she moved. In their monthly conversations, they would chat about anything new in their lives, TV shows watched, books read, his latest exams in university. He always made sure to inform her what he knew about her family. Something she was grateful for but it always felt like a knife to the heart after. 

 As they talked, she finished folding her laundry, a necessary evil in her opinion. Once done with that, she moved on to the package she received in the mail today. It was addressed to her but the sender was a designer name she would never be able to afford in her lifetime. She shook her head, wondering what surprise the youngest Lothbrok had bought for her. 

 Listening to him regale her with the latest family drama of his, she opened the package and had to muffle a gasp at the two dresses that lay inside. The first was an off-the-shoulder, black skater dress that would reach mid-thigh in length. It was a classy and elegant cocktail dress that reminded her of the dress she wore on her and Ivar's "date" but way more sophisticated and stylish. It was the second dress that made her pause and wonder where Ivar thought she would ever wear something like this. It was a deep red evening gown, the hem long enough to trail slightly on the ground. The dress was gorgeous with a tight bodice and slight flair of the skirt. It was the slit in the skirt that touched her upper thigh and the sheer middle of the bodice that made Kari raise her eyebrows. The gown was the perfect blend of chic and sexy. What was Ivar thinking? She would feel so self-conscious and she never went anywhere fancy enough to wear it. Though as she stared at both dresses, she decided it never hurt to admire them on the hanger, even if she never got the chance to wear them. As her friend continued speaking, she hung both dresses up in her closet, making a mental note to talk to Ivar. 

 "It's probably good your brother moved out last year." She commented, tucking her laundry basket away in her closet. 

 "Yeah. He only comes over to the house if he has to." He said with a resigned sigh. After a long moment of silence, he spoke up again. His voice hesitant, almost remorseful, as what had been obviously on the tip of his tongue finally came forth. "Your mother has been talking about trying to find you again."

 Kari froze, her mind shorting out and heart rate skyrocketing as his statement sunk in. "What…. what did she say?"

 "Not much that I overheard." He confessed, sympathy in each word. "How much she misses her only daughter and feels abandoned by you. She has been telling people that you're doing charity work in another country when they ask about you."

 "It's been almost two years… I hoped…" She slumped onto her bed, legs wobbling and mind whirling. 

 "That your mother would forget about you?"

 "I don't know. I just…. I don't know."

 Silence reigned for a moment before he spoke again. 

 "Are you ever coming home?"

 "I…. I don't think that's home anymore."

 "I miss you." He whispered. 

 Tears welled in her eyes. She took a deep breath forcing them back, but knew her shaky voice betrayed her. "I miss you too. Maybe you can come visit me here?"

 "That would blow your cover."

 "Could we meet up somewhere? You take a vacation or something?"

 "I'll consider it…." His voice trailed off, only to come back stronger. "You know, when you wanted help to leave England, I thought it was just a temporary reprieve. I didn't imagine you would stay away."

 It felt like a knife twisted in her gut, because he was right. She had never thought she would be gone this long. "I know…. I just…. I like my life here. I don't…. I don't want to go back to that."

 He sighed as if giving up on convincing her to return. "I understand. I'll always be here for you. I still think of you as one of my closest friends."

 "Same. We've known each other since we were thirteen. A few countries between us isn't going to stop that."

 He chuckled. "Right. Well, I'll still hold you to your promise. If we're both unmarried by thirty-five, we'll have a courthouse wedding to keep our families off our backs."

 "Sounds good." She laughed out, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

 "I have to go. I'll text you about when we can catch up next month."

 "Perfect. Stay safe, Albus."

 "You too, Abs."

 "Ugh! That nickname is worse than yours!" She groaned, hearing a small chuckle on the other end of the phone. "Bye!"

 After hanging up, she stared at her phone for a minute, the smile fading as her mind revisited the conversation. The weight of everything slammed into her, her body no longer able to support her under the strength of her duress. She crumpled onto her bed, curling into a fetal position, tears streaming down her cheeks. It hurt that England no longer felt like home to her, but neither did where she currently lived. What hurt and confused her most, was when she thought of being home- Ivar's face filled her mind's eye. 

 *****

 "Thank you everyone for coming to class today. I'll see you either tomorrow or next week." 

 With the lights still dim, Kari turned off the soothing water music over the speakers in the yoga studio room. The women who had been laying in corpse pose on their mats began to rise and gather up their personal items. A quiet murmur of voices replaced the music in the enclosed room. She waved at a few of the regulars as they left her class. Even if she was not the one doing all the poses, by the end of class she still felt refreshed and rejuvenated. It always brought her joy to see people come in, stressed or anxious, and leave her class with a smile on their faces or just looking less tense. 

 Through the mirrors along the wall at the front of the room, she could see the tall, statuesque blonde making her way over, yoga mat tucked under her arm. 

 "Hey, you doing anything for lunch?" Gyda asked, coming up beside her. Even in leggings and a tight tank top, she looked like someone off the covers of a women's magazine. All Kari could figure was it was in the Lothbrok blood. 

 "Um, working on inventory?"

 "How about instead you come out to lunch with us?" She motioned vaguely towards Torvi, who was gathering up her yoga mat. "We planned on stopping at that new boutique down the strip. So, we can just meet you for lunch when you're done."

 "Really?" The brunette was startled by the offer. Sure, she had gone out with Gyda a few times but never with Torvi too. The three would chat occasionally before or after class and she liked Torvi's no-nonsense attitude. They had flippantly made comments about the three of them going out but to actually hear they wanted her presence both surprised and warmed her heart. "Torvi is okay with this too?"

 Gyda rolled her eyes. "Yes. So…. Yes? No? Don't leave me in suspense."

 "Yeah, I'd love to."

 "Great. Text me when you're done and we'll meet up."

 "It'll be at least half an hour…." 

 Gyda waved her off, her voice growing louder. "That's fine. Torvi takes forever when she browses anyway."

 "Sorry, I like to think through my purchases before I buy something!"

 Kari smiled at Torvi's retort. The other blonde was checking her phone, a smile on her face though as she peered up at her sister-in-law and her yoga instructor. 

 "Are you joining us?" She called over. 

 "Of course, she is!" Gyda replied, before Kari could respond. "But she's only coming if you swear not to share any stories about you and Bjorn's kinky sex life. Nobody wants to hear that."

 Without a word, Torvi gave her the middle finger salute, before looking back down at her phone. 

 Gyda chuckled then turned to raise an eyebrow at the shorter woman. "Unless you're into that kind of stuff…."

 "Oh gods, Gyda! No!" Her face flushed at the thought. 

 "Hey, it's the quiet ones who are the kinkiest. I bet Ivar would like that." She laughed as Kari tried to swat at her. Taking a step back, she pretended to zip her lips. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Text me when you're done! We can meet at the café down the street. " 

 Kari waved at Torvi as the two blondes walked out of the studio room. Quickly, she hurried to finish tidying up. It had been a long time since she felt this excited to go out to eat with some female friends. A handful of times she had gone out with some coworkers or Lydia. In the beginning she was excited when Alana would invite her out with her friends to a club or bar but Kari quickly learned that was not her scene and began making every excuse possible to not be forced out with them. She always felt like an afterthought amongst the group, especially since getting drunk nor sleeping around was not her style. This time, she had high hopes for spending time with Gyda and Torvi. It would be nice to have female friends again. 

 The door to the studio room opened and Lydia popped her head in. "Almost done? You've got a visitor out here and he's causing quite the distraction." She said with a distinct shit-eating grin and wink before ducking back out. 

 "He?" Kari questioned out loud, although her mind suspected who it was. He was the only one who ever visited her. Slipping her phone into the pocket of her maroon leggings, she gave the room one final survey, wanting it to be ready for the next class before she left. With a nod, she headed out, the door swinging shut behind her. 

 In the large open area, she understood what Lydia meant by 'causing quite the distraction'. If she paused for a moment to drink the sight in, no one could possibly know, right? 

 Ivar leaned his shoulder against a wall, arms crossed over his chest with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to display his toned forearms. His dark locks were pulled back loosely in a man-bun, a few tendrils slipped free. Even in jeans, braces and smart-looking leather shoes, he looked quite handsome. With no cane in sight, it must be a good day. 

 Kari noticed more than one pair of eyes lingering on him from around the studio although he did not seem to notice as he stood there talking with Gyda and Torvi in hushed tones. The latter said something that immediately caused Ivar to narrow his eyes at her as he snapped a comment. 

 Even from across the room, Kari could read the tension in his frame and decided to intervene before he caused a scene. Walking over to them, aware of the many sets of eyes upon the group of three, she fixed a smile on her face. Once those intense, blue eyes locked onto her and his posture softened marginally, her smile transitioned into a genuine grin. "Hey, Ivar, what are you doing here?" She asked, coming to stand between him and Gyda. 

 "Do I need a reason to come see you?" He smirked down at her.

 That look released butterflies in her stomach but she ignored them to tease him back. "Usually that's how it works."

 "And if that reason is to fulfill my quota?"

 The blush that rose to her cheeks was so hot, she wondered if you could fry an egg on her face. Immediately, she dropped her chin to her chest, willing the warmth to vanish. 

 "Hmmm…. that blush for me, kattungen?" He shifted closer so his mouth was near her ear, his question asked in such a lecherous tone, Kari felt her core clench. 

 "Shut up." She mumbled, pushing him away. He rocked back on his heels, a smug grin on his face, and an amused chuckle leaving his lips. 

 Gyda patted Kari's shoulder, drawing the brunette's attention upward again. "Text me when you're done. We'll leave you with this grumpy asshole. I'm sure you can think of a way to cheer him up." She winked as she took a step away. 

 For a moment, Kari wished the ground would open up beneath her. Between Gyda's teasing comments and Ivar's blatant remarks and heated looks, Kari's face was going to be permanently red in an endless flush. 

 "Good luck on your trip, Ivar." Torvi called over her shoulder as she followed Gyda. 

 "Oi! Tell Bjorn to keep his big fucking mouth shut!" He yelled after the blondes; the tension returned with Torvi's parting statement. Glaring at the door the two women passed through, he muttered something in a foreign language as he rubbed his hand over his mouth. Briefly, his thoughts seemed to take him elsewhere but he quickly snapped back, blue eyes finding Kari once again. 

 It was only something she had realized lately, but when he looked at her, that consuming and burning gaze landing on her with all the impact of a sledgehammer, it made her feel like the only woman in the room. It was such a cliché thing, something stupid out of a romance novel, but it was the only way she could describe the feeling. When he looked at her like this, nothing else mattered in the room. She had his whole attention, all his focus. It was heady and powerful and terrifying and astounding. The weight of others watching made her skin itch but with his gaze locked on hers, lips tilted up slightly in the hint of a fond smile, she felt in the eye of a hurricane. 

 Her blue-green eyes dropped to his chest, unable to maintain eye contact when it left her feeling so flustered. Tugging on her earlobe, she quietly asked. "What are you doing here? I thought I wasn't seeing you until you picked me up for dinner tonight?"

 "Something came up." Silently, he reached over and grasped her hand, causing her head to jerk up. Intertwining their fingers, he watched her with regret in his eyes. "I have to fly out to Italy in two hours."

 "Oh. Is everything okay?" That was not what she had expected to hear. Her heart plummeted that their dinner would have to be canceled but tried not to let it show. 

 "Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

 "Um, sure." Emotions flickering between curiosity and concern, she guided him back to the studio room. The weight of eyes lingered as they walked, especially since he refused to release her hand. A brief glance at the front counter, only to see Lydia and Sasha both staring at her with amused and proud smiles, had Kari trying to hurry out of sight with Ivar in tow. 

 Soon as the door shut behind them, hiding them from view, he pulled her against his body, one arm wrapping around her waist, trapping her against him while the other hand gripped the back of her neck. He kissed her passionately, like a man dying of thirst and only she could save him. 

 "Ivar…." She tried to pull away, aware she was at work and anyone could walk in. Instead, he held her tighter, molding her body to his. The drugging kiss that followed had her all but melting against him, knees weak and her resolve disappearing like smoke in the wind. When she opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to dance with hers, the growl that erupted from him was so thready and rough, it called to a primal part of her, making her warm all over and a tightness grow in her belly. 

 It had been two days since they had seen each other and she genuinely missed him. They had been texting during that time, but it was not the same. She missed his presence, his touch, his kisses, his grumpy comments and the way he made her laugh. Even when he annoyed or frustrated her, he still was the color in her otherwise monochromatic world. And with each day that passed, her desire to push him away fractured a little bit more. 

 When their mouths finally unlocked, both panting and lips swollen and red, she was almost shocked the nearby mirrors were not fogged up. Breathless and overwhelmed, she pressed her forehead to his, her arms around his neck. For a minute they stood there peacefully, only the sounds of their ragged breathing and the occasional noise from those outside of the studio room broke through their tranquility. 

 "What's going on, Ivar?"

 "Something with work." 

 "Does this have to do with why you've been so busy?"

 He sighed but when he spoke in a hushed tone, the rage painting each word was undeniable. "Someone on the inside has been selling information about us." She gasped, shocked but when she tried to pull away to look at him, he tugged her back against him, placing his chin on the top of her head. "I think I know who the fucker is."

 "That's why you're going to Italy?"

 "Hmmm."

 "Will you be safe?"

 That made him chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Are you worried about me?"

 She thought about making a joke, about teasing him about his recklessness. Instead the question knocked the air from her lungs momentarily, because the truth was, she was. What little she had gleaned about his work when he needed to vent, there was still an element of danger to it. She tipped her face up to look at him, her answer a quiet murmur that did nothing to hide the emotion behind her words. "Yes…. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt."

 The amusement in his eyes drained to be replaced with a softness that made her heart clench. He inhaled sharply and glanced away for a moment. "Fuck, kitten…." When he turned back, he kissed her tenderly, a slow melding of their mouths like the taste of her was a fine wine he wanted to sip on endlessly. There was a promise in his action, just as much as his words when he finally whispered against her lips. "I'll be safe, just meeting with a contact. That's all."

 "Okay, just please be careful." Worry still tainted her, but she trusted Ivar to keep himself safe. He had been doing this job far longer than she had known him. 

 "Don't tell anyone about what I've said. No one else knows."

 "I promise. Not a word."

 "Good girl." He swatted her ass, making her squeak and glare up at him. "I'm going to have Hvitserk check up on you later."

 "That's not necessary." She tried to say. She would hate to be a waste of time for the older Lothbrok. The look he gave her said to not argue with him. "Fine," she dramatically sighed, "maybe him and I will watch movies and cuddle since you're soooo busy. I wonder if he'd think my bed is comfy enough or if the couch is better?"

 "Don't you fucking dare." He growled, gripping her waist in a possessive hold. 

 She just laughed at how easy he was to wind up. It was mean and she knew it. 

 He nipped at her bottom lip. "Keep playing, Kari and I'll have to punish you."

 "I have no idea what you're talking about." She batted her lashes at him, failing to suppress a childish giggle. 

 He rolled his eyes, the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. "I need to go." He softly said though he made no move to release her from his arms. 

 With that a wave of worry and fear cascaded over her, it was unfounded she knew, but it still threatened to drag her into its depths. Not giving it a second thought, she raised up on her toes to plant a lingering kiss on his lips. 

 "You're not helping." He muttered, never removing his mouth from hers. 

 "Maybe take the next flight?"

 "Don't tempt me, vixen. I'll lock that door and have my wicked way with you right fucking here until everyone hears you screaming my name."

 Between the image he painted in her mind and his mouth having moved to her pulse point, heated arousal pooled between her legs. She gulped, her mouth suddenly dry and words sticking to her throat.

 He leaned back, a devious smirk on his lips at her obviously flushed face. "No, my priestess," he purred, a filthy, predatory glint in his blue eyes, she could not help but gasp as her knees threatened to buckle under her. "When I finally have you, it'll be somewhere I can both worship you and fuck you all night long without fear of being interrupted."

 She let out a shaky breath. "But, um…. we…. ah."

 "Soon, Vakker, blir du min." He kissed her roughly, as if sealing his words. "I do need to leave. Walk with me." He took her hand, leading her out of the studio room, giving her no choice but to walk beside him. Not that her brain was fully able to make coherent decisions at the moment. 

 As they walked towards the front of the building, she wondered if their make-out session was obvious. Her lips felt red and swollen and a blush still colored her cheeks. A glance at Ivar showed his lips fuller but he appeared so calm and collected it was unfair. 

 "Did you like the dresses?" He asked, breaking her out of her thoughts. 

 "I do. They both are gorgeous, but they're too much. I don't have a reason to dress up that fancy."

 "With me, you will. I'll get you some casual dresses too."

 "Ivar…." She whined. 

 "You need more clothes, Kari."

 "Fine. Not because I want more clothes but because I know you'll buy them for me anyway."

 He winked at her, his tone smug. "I always get my way."

 "You're unbelievable."

 They stopped beside his SUV, parked next to the sidewalk. His driver was already in the driver's seat waiting. Kari made sure to wave at the man, earning a nod back from him. The driver was a huge guy with long, thick locks of white hair and a scar on his face. He intimidated Kari but she tried to ignore that and be friendly. Even if Ivar made fun of her for it. 

 "I should be back tomorrow unless some shit comes up." Ivar stated, opening the back door. 

 "Okay. Be safe."

 "Stop worrying. Shit. I'll be fine." He remarked, sliding into his seat. Before he closed the door, he met her gaze. "I'll text you."

 She smiled in acknowledgment and stepped back, giving him a quick wave as she headed back inside and his SUV started off.  

 Lydia leaned against the front counter with Sasha and Alicia now, all three watching her with expressions ranging from amused to shocked. 

 "Um, I'm going to…. go on my lunch break now." She mumbled and hurried away to grab her purse from the office, the sounds of laughter following her. 

 The stray thought crossed her mind that she would need some new bras if Ivar was set on buying her new clothes. Not that he would see those bras, but it would be good to have…. and maybe some matching panties.

 *****

 Summer was transitioning to fall, cool undertones intermixed with the residual warmth of a September evening. 

 Kari stared at the book in her lap but the words blurred together no matter how many times she reread the same line. She loved reading outside, sitting on the small patio behind the townhouse, especially when none of the neighbors were out. She could pretend it was her own place of solace, being out in nature. The sunlight shined through the line of pine trees separating their row of townhouses from the ones behind them, bird songs mixed with the sound of traffic from the nearby roads. She much preferred this too being stuck indoors. 

 Today though, her mind drifted like the breeze, but it all centered on a conversation she had not even ten minutes ago. If she listened closely, she could hear Alana through the screen door, making her dinner in the kitchen. She knew it was not Alana's fault, but the conversation still felt like a rug had been yanked from underneath the brunette. With everything going so well in her life, of course fate had to throw her a curveball. 

 Now her mind scrambled as what to do next. 

 A sound from her left had her glance over to see Erik stepping out of his back door. A boyish grin lit up his face when he saw her. 

 "Hi, Kari. Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

 "Yeah. It is." She gave a half-hearted smile, watching as he closed the door behind him and stepped closer. 

 "Mind if I join you?"

 She waved a hand at the patio set. "Not at all." Hopefully talking with Erik would be the distraction she needed for the moment, to pull her out of her quagmire of thoughts. 

 Dropping onto the cushioned chair to her left, he ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. In jeans and a t-shirt, he appeared ready to relax for the evening. 

 "What are you reading this time?" He asked curiously. This would not be the first time he had found her outside reading. 

 She reclined on the two-person, cushioned couch, legs up and bent with her open book resting against her thighs, wearing her typical leggings and slouchy shirt. At his question, she flashed him the cover. "The Princess Bride."

 "Isn't that a movie?"

 She pretended to gasp in horror. "Yes, but the book is still a classic."

 He raised his hands in surrender, grin spreading across his face. “If you say. Not really my taste. So how was your day?"

 "Nothing exciting. Yours?"

 "The usual. Customers thinking they could do my job better than me."

 She winced. "I know the feeling."

 They made small talk for some time, talking about work and a documentary he recommended for her to watch. They argued which was the better coffee shop nearby, something they continuously disagreed on. Soon the upsetting conversation with Alana drifted to the back of her mind. It did not take long for her to close her book and set it on the ground so she could be fully invested in the conversation, especially when Erik became so animated about a topic, his hands waving around like a conductor in his enthusiasm. It was an endearing trait of his, but also alerted her to settle in because it meant he would not need much encouragement to keep talking. 

 The opening of the sliding door behind Kari stunted their conversation.

 "Kari, someone is here for you." Alana said sweetly, stepping out onto the patio. 

 Unsure what she meant and since Kari never had visitors except for Ivar, she finally turned around. Only to be met with the view of Hvitserk leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his lips. Standing there looking quite handsome in a dark navy business suit with a white undershirt, sans tie. Even his hair was nicely pleated back, making him look very professional and attractive. 

 "What are you doing here?" She asked in surprise, wondering if he just got off work. 

 Pushing off the doorframe, he meandered past Alana to approach Kari's side. "I came to check on you." He answered easily then scooped her up like she weighed nothing, making her squeal, and casually resettled them on the couch. Now he sat where she had been with her tucked against his side and his arm behind her. She also noticed how he purposefully put himself between her and Erik but chose not to comment on that. 

 "Ivar sent you, didn't he?" She grumbled, poking Hvitserk in the chest. "I told him it wasn't necessary."

 "Well, you know him." He shrugged, that teasing smirk still adorning his lips. When she tried to poke him again, he snatched her hand and held it hostage, even as she tried to tug it back. Ignoring her, he turned his attention to Erik. "Hey, man. I'm Hvitserk."

 "I'm Erik. I live next door." He responded warily, eyeing up the man as if debating to be friendly or not. 

 "Ah." With that understanding, Hvitserk seemed to give Erik a more assessing look before peering down at Kari. "You eat dinner yet?"

 "Sorta. I'm not too hungry."

 Alana spoke up from leaning against the other chair. "If you're hungry we can order something, Hvitserk. It's not a big deal."

 Kari's head whipped around to stare at her roommate in shock. Never had Alana played the hostess to Kari or anyone she knew. Then she really noticed the coquettish look of her roommate- the fluttering lashes, the sensual biting of her bottom lip in mock innocence, the way she casually leaned against the chair in a way to best highlight the curves of her body. Kari wanted to sigh. Of course, the only reason Alana pretended to care was to try and entice Hvitserk. An attractive man in their home, it was as if Alana could not help herself. 

 Apparently the flaxen-haired Lothbrok noticed her flirtatious manner also. He tipped his head, eyes blatantly tracing over her body with appreciation. Kari could see the blonde preening under Hvitserk's gaze. 

 "Did I fuck you?"

 What confident, amorous expression on Alana's face dropped in a second. "Excuse me?"

 Hvitserk waved a hand dismissively. "Sorry, you seem familiar but I can't remember…. Did you fuck one of my brothers?"

 Anger transformed her face, making her rigid and lip curled back in a snarl. "Fuck you, asshole." She shrieked, then stormed back inside, slamming the door shut. 

 He chuckled. "Huh. I take that as a yes…. ouch!"

 Kari slapped his chest. "That was extremely rude and insensitive."

 "Why? Because it's the truth?"

 "You can't just…. ask something like that." She turned to look at the closed door, wondering if she should go apologize to Alana and check on her. After a moment's debate, she turned away from the townhouse, figuring seeking out Alana would most likely end up with a door slammed in her face. 

 Hvitserk shrugged, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking it before slipping it back in.  

 His nonchalance baffled Kari. Did he not care that he just humiliated her roommate? Should she make him apologize? Though she doubted he would. Finally, she settled for just muttering, "you Lothbroks are unbelievable."

 "Oh, are you related to…." Erik's question trailed off. Where he once had been relaxed back in the cushioned chair, now he sat tensely, one of his hands tapping his knee repeatedly. 

 "Ivar? Yeah, he's my brother." Hvitserk said with a knowing smirk. 

 "He's, um…"

 "A crazy, mad bastard? Yeah. Don't recommend getting on his bad side."

 "I was going to say intense."

 Hvitserk threw his head back as he laughed. Even Kari smiled at the hesitant way Erik answered. Intense was an understatement for the youngest Lothbrok. "Yeah, he's family." 

 Erik then motioned between Kari and Hvitserk. "So are you two…. just friends?"

 Before Kari could explain, Hvitserk jumped in to answer. 

 "Ivar and I share her."

 Immediately Kari choked on air due to his candid response. Her gaze darted to Erik in horror, seeing his jaw dropped and eyes wide as saucers. Beside her Hvitserk cackled like a hyena at both of their expressions. 

 "That's not…. ugh! No!" Kari tried to speak, once she could functionally breathe again, only to cover her face as her words tumbled out of her mouth inelegantly. 

 "Awww, come on, Kari. You know I'm teasing." The elder Lothbrok tugged her hands away from her face, which only caused her to bury her face in his shoulder. "We know Ivar doesn't share. But if you ever get tired of his cranky ass, I'll be more than willing to show you a good time."

 "Oh my god." She mumbled to herself, completely mortified. The evening had been going so well, and now…. all of this. Whose grave had she accidently stepped on today? 

 Erik awkwardly cleared his throat as he rose to his feet. "Um, I'm going to go."

 "I'm so sorry, Erik." She elbowed Hvitserk when he refused to release her hands, earning an 'oof' from him. Turning her body to give Erik her full attention, she continued, hoping this had not ruined their friendship or his night. "I know this is last minute but do you think you can give me a ride to work tomorrow? If you don't want to, that's fine, especially after all of this, I wouldn't blame you."

 "No, no. I mean, sure. It's not a problem. Just, ah, text me when you're ready."

 She smiled gratefully at him. "I will. Have a good night, Erik!"

 "You too, Kari." He gave her his signature boyish grin. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked at Hvitserk. "Nice meeting you."

 "Yeah, nice meeting you too." He said back, draping his arm once again behind Kari. 

 Erik gave Kari another brief smile before disappearing back inside his townhouse, the door sliding quietly shut behind him. 

 Hvitserk continued to stare where Erik disappeared for a long minute before muttering, "boy better watch himself."

 "What are you talking about?" She sighed out, feeling the lurking sensation of a stress headache coming on.  

 "He wants to fuck you. Ivar won't like that."

 "What is with…. No. I'm ignoring all of that." She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Ugh, my evening was going so well until an hour ago."

 "What happened? That guy showed up to bother you? Want me to tell him to lay off?" His questions came out in rapid-fire, concern infused in his voice. 

 "No, Erik is fine. It's …. it's nothing like that."

 "So, what happened?"

 "Nothing important. Have you heard from Ivar?"

 He raised a brow at her dismissal but changed the subject. "Yeah, looks like he got what he needed so he'll be back tomorrow morning."

 "Oh good."

 "Hmmm…. which means he'll want to take you out tomorrow."

 "He bought me some dresses." She softly confessed, fiddling with her diamond stud earring. 

 "I'd recommend wearing one of those."

 She swatted at him, only to mirror the easy grin on his face. After a moment, she asked, "I just…. is it weird for him to do that?" 

 "What?"

 "Buy me stuff."

 "Does it bother you?"

 "I don't know."

 "If you want my advice, I'd say to let him." He lifted a finger to silence her protest. Her mouth snapped shut at his pointed look. Once he was sure she would not interrupt him, he spoke. "Ivar has never been good with…. verbally expressing affection, something I am sure he learned from our father. So he buys gifts, something he can touch and control. If he's buying you gifts, not out of obligation but because he wants to spoil you, then you mean a lot to him."

 She pondered his words and how she felt about them. Never did she want Ivar to feel taken advantage of by her, especially in regards to his money. She would rather tear her own heart out than make him feel used again. It grated slightly how freely he wasted money on her. The dresses were lovely, something she could only dream of having with her current salary. But she worked hard for her life, to be independent. Even whenever they went out to eat together, he never let her pay for her own meal. She had given up that fight already but this…. It felt different. Yet what Hvitserk said slunk back to the forefront of her mind. If this was his way of showing affection, of letting her know he cared about her, would it do more damage to refuse his gift?

 "How did you become so insightful into Ivar?" She teased, deciding to think about this more later. 

 He laughed, flicking her ear with the hand he still had behind her. "Out of necessity. I don't think anyone can fully understand him, not even himself."

 "He's complex." She agreed. 

 "That's a nice way of putting it." He tipped his head to the side to meet her gaze. "Now, tell me what happened earlier."

 "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

 "Ivar told me to check on you. If I left you trying to hide tears and he found out, he'd probably break my hands or legs, not sure how particular he would be."

 Biting her bottom lip, she debated blowing him off again. It was not his problem, she could deal with her own issues. But there was something about Hvitserk that made her feel comfortable around him. Even though he was under no obligation, he seemed to actually care about her. 

 Finally, she gave in with a sigh, laying her head against his shoulder. "Alana said…. Um, this townhouse belongs to her uncle. Him and his family moved into a bigger home and instead of selling this place decided to rent it out for a little extra cash. The rent is minimal, since he isn't renting to really make a profit. It's honestly the only way I've been able to afford being here. Well, Alana told me earlier that he is having to increase our rent. She didn't really tell me why but now it's going to be an extra 300 a month…. and I don't have that. So unless I want to find somewhere new to live, it kind of looks like I need to get a second job."

 He waited a moment before flatly stating, "have Ivar pay the extra. Fuck, he'd probably pay your whole rent if you asked him too."

 "No! I don't want that!" She sat up so fast, it was a miracle she did not fall off the couch. Her eyes turned to the brother beside her, wide and pleading. "Please don't tell him, Hvitty! I don't want him thinking I'm using him for his money. I…. I need to do this on my own somehow. I'll figure it out, honestly. I just wasn't expecting this to happen, that's all."

 "You really don't care about our money, do you?"

 "No." It broke her heart a little at the shock in his questioning tone. Did any of them ever expect someone to care about them without the influence of their money? 

 He stared off into the distance before looking back at her with a solemn expression. "I'll make you a deal. I won't say anything to Ivar about this, but if you are struggling, even if it's just one month's payment, you come to me and I'll help until you get your head above water again, got it?"

 "Why would you want to help me?" She quietly asked, meeting his gaze. 

 He smirked. "I like you. You're genuine. Plus, you're also great for Ivar. I'd like you to stick around and if this is one way to help with that, it's an easy solution." He narrowed his eyes at her as she started to protest again. "Don't fight me on this."

 "You Lothbroks are unbelievable. Fine." She laid her head back on his shoulder. "Thank you, Hvitserk…. and thanks for coming to check on me."

 "Anytime. You've got my number. Just cause you're Ivar's woman doesn't mean we can't be friends. But my offer still stands, if you get sick of him, I'll be the first to snatch you up."

 She laughed, heart feeling lighter than it had all afternoon. "Stop. I'm not Ivar's woman."

 "You keep telling yourself that."

 They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the sky change colors. 

 "Mmmm…."

 "What?" She looked up at him. 

 He peeked down at her with a shit-eating grin. "I still can't remember if I fucked your roommate or not."

 "Gods, Hvitserk!"

 *****

 Before she fell asleep that night, she checked her phone one last time. A jolt of elation shot through her when she saw an unread text from Ivar. Her fingers fumbled with how quickly she tried to unlock her phone to read the text. 

 Ivar: good nite, kitten. C u 2morrow.

 A silly smile on her face, she replied. 

 Kari: sweet dreams, Ivar.

 After that, she plugged in her phone and curled up under her covers. Relief and excitement bled into her veins, allowing her to drift off to sleep with thoughts of the dark-haired Lothbrok coming home to her.

#vikings #MODERN VIKINGS #vikings ivar #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar #ivar x oc #ivar x ofc #modern!ivar x oc #modern!ivar #ivar's heathen army #Hvitserk #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #to call forth love #mzwrites

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Actually, the last ask got me thinking: realistically, if you didn't know anyone's backstories and you met organically, who would you personally hang out or be friends with in the hypmic cast if they were real? also, who would you dislike?

Oh this is a really fun one, thanks. Stuck under a cut for length... also, you’ll learn really quick that I’m a raging asshole who can’t get along with anyone.

Ichirou: Hm, I could see us getting along. I don’t think we have a lot in common, but we would probably text about video games or whatever and hang out periodically. He seems like a nice, chill dude. I’d be happy to have him as a friend.

Jirou: I don’t hang out with teenagers much, so I probably wouldn’t be his close friend or anything like that. We also have very little in common, so I’m guessing we’d really only see one another in passing at Ichirou’s or something.

Saburou: He would infuriate me instantly. I would want to avoid him because I don’t think Ichirou would like me getting in a fist fight with his little brother.

Samatoki: He would scare the fuck out of me. No thanks. Also this bitch smokes like a chimney. Nuh-uh.

Juuto: Fuck the police.

Riou: Hmmmmmmmmmm, I would find his whole military shtick a big turnoff. If I got past that, though, I would probably like him a lot. Giving me food is an instant way for me to like someone, and he seems like a really chill person to hang out with.

Ramuda: I think we’re too similar. We’d kill one another in the first five minutes. To be honest, I would avoid him because I would find him extremely obnoxious. On the off chance that I did find out his backstory stuff, I would probably overstep his boundaries in my delight at finding someone to commiserate with.... hahaha.... I’d end up in a coma for being nosy.

Gentarou: Oh no. I know myself way too well to know exactly how this would go down. We’d meet through mutual friends (probably Ichirou, idk) at a gathering and end up in a corner together talking about literature. He would confess to having some terrible taste in authors, and I’d be like, “Damn : ‘) This bitch is dumb as shit.” But we’d become friends anyway, especially because I like that sense of humor a lot. Then after a couple of months of hanging out, going to coffee shops to talk about stuff, texting about writing or translation or just me texting him random shit I think would make him laugh, I’d be hit with the “Oh no!!!!!!!!!” revelation that my feelings are not, in fact, purely platonic! I would panic about that for a couple weeks and probably do something stupid and/or self-destructive. I’d then have a crush on him for some absurdly long time, like seven or eight years, and I’d probably tell him that because I don’t like hiding that kind of thing, but we’d just be friends the whole time as long as he’d be cool with it. :) Because I’d be happy as long as we could be friends. And then I’d wingman him together with Dice, say, because I would want his happiness. Hell yeah.

Dice: Mmmmm, I don’t think Dice would like me... he’d snap at me for being too like Doppo, and that would frighten me. What a shame.

Jakurai: I would probably dislike him at first. But if I could get past the whole “wow, you’re such a fascinating person!” doctor thing he has going on, then I think we could be friends. The majority of my friends are a good deal older than me - in their mid to late 20s or early 30s - so it’s not atypical. Riding in his car would be amazing. I love going on car rides and will navigate very badly for anyone who asks.

Hifumi: Tbh I think his height and hair color might trigger my PTSD, but if I could get past that, I think he’d be a very nice friend to have. It’s the giving food thing again. Just kind of in general, I feel like I could fit in with Matenrou as their short, obnoxious mascot.

Doppo: Doppo-chin... Ah, I think we would be negative influences on each other’s mental health. Maybe not the best idea...

Kuukou: Oh fuck yes. Now this is where it’s at. Fuck YES. I would gladly join you in monk activities, Kuukou, even if it involves sitting in high seiza and waiting for your feet to fall asleep and your back to give out.

Juushi: Mmmmmmmmmmm maybe...? I think we’d end up in a never-ending loop of going “Oh, I’m so sorry, you go” “No, no, I’m sorry, you go”. We could bond over music, though.

Hitoya: He would think I’m an idiot and hate me. He has a fair point. But I think I would like him, and he seems enjoyable to spend time with. He would probably have a lot of good insights about life.

Sasara: God.... mmmmmm.... he seems really annoying... I’m not sure about this one. I think we could have a fun boke/tsukkomi style friendship wherein he says stupid shit and I respond, “You need to shut the fuck up before I beat your ass” in a loving way.

Roshou: I think we could get along well. We’d probably end up talking about our day jobs (teaching) or gushing about our students most of the time. I think Roshou and I are pretty similar, so it would probably be a good friendship.

Rei: ??? I can’t imagine interacting with Rei. As much as I like him as a character - and I really do like him a lot now - I feel like in real life, all he’d be doing would be scamming me.

Otome: No... she’s like a scary mom....

Ichijiku: Absolutely not. She would terrify me.

Nemu: Oh sweet baby GIRL. She seems to have a lot of patience for dumbasses, so I don’t think she would particularly dislike me. I guess brainwashed Nemu probably wouldn’t be the most fun person to hang out with, but before that, she’d be wonderful. I want to see her grow up big and strong. :) I support your dreams, Nemu.

Ha ha ha, sorry for talking about myself so much today. Man, now I really miss seeing my IRL friends... my homeboys are awful about keeping in touch :) Those assholes :)

Please leave in the replies who you would like to be friends with in Hypmic!

#not a translation #asks #personal asks

[rpbetter]

I'm a novella roleplayer who writes long-term threads. Since this is very rare on tumblr, I've noticed that many muns are intimidated or put off by how much I write, how much information there is on my muse, and other things inherent to long-term roleplay. People have even told me outright, "I'm intimidated by you". But I do wonder if there's another component besides, well, just the amount of writing I do. Maybe there's a way to negate some of this by using certain techniques, wording, etc in my rules and overall presentation. Do you have any advice on how to reduce how intimidating I seem, even with the amount of writing I do? Any particular things I should avoid? And at what point should I just not worry about it, because it's out of my control?

Hello, Anon! Thank you very much for this question, I think it's a discussion many could benefit from. That should probably be head's up for everyone that this is going to get long, yes.

People have also told me, outright, that they're "intimidated," and I know that's something my writing partners have been told as well. It's also something that seems to be a common statement toward novella roleplayers in particular, and one's chance of having it said increases with factors such as being a long-term RPer, particularly good vocabulary, visible skill with writing, and indeed, having a muse you've dedicated obvious time to developing - made obvious in not only the amount of information available on your muse but also in your confidence about that muse.

I honestly do not think most people who say this any more realize that it's a little offensive than they know precisely what it is they are trying to tell you. Regardless, it makes it a bit hard to know what you're doing, if it's actually something wrong, is it something you can or should change, or is it just another case of being the minority in the RPC, therefore, having more muns out there that you're not suited to writing with? No one knows, because it's vague!

So, I’m additionally going to beg everyone out there to not say this. Please, if you find yourself categorizing another RPer as “intimidating,” do everyone a favor and consider what is making you feel this way, even if you never tell them this. Eventually, you will tell someone, and if you’ve thought on it already, you’ll be better able to express yourself in a way that is neither offensive nor vague. If you do tell someone they are “intimidating,” expand on it and be specific. Tell them whether it is the length, writing style, the mun OOC, it’ll be very helpful. You needn’t be shitty about it, just honest and polite.

Try: “I’m not confident enough to write with you, I don’t feel like I’m capable of writing that much, or that well, but I would love to keep following so I can read it!”

You’ve not been offensive at all, but have told them what your difficulty is. You’ve also kept this a you problem, not a them problem. When we tell people they are “intimidating,” that is a negative connotation that implies they are doing something wrong. We've made it a Them Problem. Maybe there is something they could work on, but your feelings over perceived limitations aren’t their problem. They can’t change the way you feel about yourself and your writing in contrast to theirs. By saying it this way, it’s still clear that you don’t think this will work out, you’ve told them why, and you’ve done it without projecting responsibility.

Alright, sorry, just in case anyone out there who says this and isn’t immediately turned off by the length of this reads it.

As I said, I've been told this as well, when it seemed like a mun that would be alright with me asking for specifics, I have. Unfortunately, they couldn't describe those specifics in any more detailed terms. I'm not saying this to shame anyone's capacity to describe their impressions or wishes, sometimes even the best writers aren't good at expressing themselves more personally. I'm just saying that a clearer description wasn't possible, and that I am taking this from what has been expressed by these people and others in limited ways, directly stated or vented about vaguely.

The length appears to be the predominating issue.

"It's just a lot," "I feel like I'd miss things in it," "intense," and "I like quicker back and forth" are some of the major points that have been made to or around me. They're the first and primary things that are mentioned, and they all deal with the length (though, the intensity thing also deals with the writing itself).

As you already know, as a novella RPer and how unpopular that is, the length is usually an issue, yes. Let me rephrase that - it is an issue that is a part of the vague descriptor of being "intimidating," I do not feel that lengthy RP itself is a problem! Just the problem that some muns are having with seeing you as a viable, approachable RP partner.

Looking at someone's writing is something I always highly advise doing while looking for new partners, but I believe that our writing as novella RPers can obscure it for some when they're not actively a writing partner yet, thus, not involved in it. I enjoy reading threads I am not a part of, and since everyone I write with is also novella, that means I'm essentially reading short stories every time I do - that's not typical. Most people just see Wall of Text in a novella thread they're not involved in.

It's kind of a seeing the individual trees in a forest situation, and might not have anything to do with the mun's potential interest or viability as a partner. I mean, I doubt you're looking to engage interest of short multi-para or one-line muns, since that isn't your preferred writing type and yours is not theirs. So, you're likely looking at the few and far between other novella and any lengthier multi-para muns. So, it's not going to be an issue of simply being novella, thus immensely overwhelming and not their thing. It's more likely to be that your novella is particularly lengthy, and again, they're not yet involved in it. They’re seeing a task, not the fun engagement of it yet.

I know that I've had several mid to lengthier multi-para muns approach me wanting to write, they're usually interested specifically in beginning to move toward doing novella. They also see the fruits of these great storylines, OOC friendships, and in-thread relationships on the dash, not the building that went into them. The expectation is different from the reality, and once they start receiving my replies, that can quickly turn overwhelming. They've now got something on their hands that has been too lengthy for other, established novella writers, and it's all at the beginning still with the muses.

This is when I tend to get that I'm intimidating from people who have begun to write with me, and I think it is telling of the Wall of Text problem with partners you've not gained yet, too. The problem of how they're viewing the writing is that they do not see things within it that are immediately, and easily, engaging to them specifically.

The people I referenced, they're having the same problem. Our muses do not know each other, there is no established connection of animosity or affection, no "dynamic" to fuel their replies. When looking at a lengthy novella reply and trying to judge interest in writing with the mun, they're naturally not going to see that either, since it doesn't exist yet.

And it might not exist at all.

I want to be clear to everyone that I am not saying one needs to write in a way that is not enjoyable to them, I'm just guessing at problems based on the majority of the RPC's interests and what I have been told over the years, a lot of years. Like, no one come at me about forcing anyone to write anything, or being acephobic or something fucking nuts, thanks!

People are really, really into the romantic ships. I do not care what the RPC says because it knows it's the right thing to say lol if it wasn't true, it wouldn't be a huge, and totally observable as true, problem that characters who are hard to ship with or do not ship are passed over. Regardless of beautiful writing, engaging muses, and incredible worldbuilding, they're passed over because they're not a ship partner in the waiting.

So, it's quite possible that if you do not have threads in which there are observable ships, muns are seeing the Wall of Text because there's nothing that grabs at their particular interests. I don't even just mean smut, either. I've found that far more muns than there used to be are willing to not write that, but they still want the ships.

You might be a RPer who does not do shipping at all, has a difficult to ship with muse, or who simply does not place this as a priority in your own interests. There is nothing wrong with either direction of this preference! It’s alright for people to have preferences, even if they can feel annoying to us because they’re leaving us out, or we genuinely just do not get the thrill. It’s totally okay for people to not be interested in shipping, or not place a particularly high value on it, and more muns than the RPC realizes feel this way. It’s as unpopular, and far more limiting, take on RP as being here openly only for them is. There’s nothing wrong with you as a writer or a person if you don’t write ships and smut, but it is the opposite of many people’s interests here. This would be something you can’t control, yeah. It’s still good to know as a part of the puzzle!

They see a lot of things they do not have any instant feelings about and/or what they perceive as interaction points. As, unfortunately, the predominant mode of writing here is reactive, and in brutal honesty, often self-interested. It's not rewarding to many muns in this RPC to build stories cooperatively together for the sake of those stories and love of the muses, they require putting their muse on display, having impassioned interactions through that muse's reactions.

So, you might be writing the most vivid scenes, the most beautiful character study, and letting your muse be a fleshed out, realistic person, but they're seeing "I can't react to this."

Which is, by the way, bullshit. Not just that it's bullshit as a way to try to write together, it's also bullshit in that you can react to anything. You can react to, literally, nothing. If you're muse has said not a word to mine for an entire reply, not physically interacted with them, they're just sitting there in a chair staring off into space (also not a great way to write, but I'm giving an extreme example) the whole time, I can react to that.

To be fair, my primary muse is really uh, busy, let's say lol it does make him both incredibly easy to interact with and very easy to generate natural reactions from. And that might also be a problem people are having...

Your muse is quiet.

They're the opposite of someone who is physically or verbally “busy.” They think more than they move or speak, they remain at emotional, verbal, and physical distances from others. The quiet, and still, type on the outside.

I don't think there's anything wrong with that, I love reading a muse's internal processes because I'm approaching this as a reader as much as I am a writer. It doesn't need to be something my muse can know or react to for me to enjoy it, I want to enjoy your muse, other people's muses are part of the joy of RP for me. And not just in what I might achieve having mine interact with them. There are muses mine very, very much did not work out with that I have continued to enjoy the stories of for years without writing with them!

But that's me. And I'm weird.

A lot of people are going to look at the sort of writing, particularly when not involved with it yet, and see...Words. Maybe they don't find them boring or any such thing, but they can't so easily envision themselves responding to it with the sort of vigor required to reply with length in kind. It's again the same dual issue going on that might just be making your writing difficult to approach.

It might be legitimately daunting, and might be more so if...

You're well-written.

One would think this would be a boon to written roleplay, but I haven't seen it be that in a long time. On tumblr, that has weirdly come to signify "elitism."

It's not just more legitimately intimidating for some out there because they feel they cannot write as well as you, might appear lacking or boring, end up dropped because of it. No, of course not! It's tumblr, where decent behavior as well as logic comes to die! It's because they've gotten the idea that you might be shitty to them because you posses more experience, skill, or innate talent with writing.

That's not helped when every time someone is told on any basis at all, in any manner at all, or one has any existent expectations for RPing that someone else might take issue with as though they're being forced to comply with them instead of not interacting, people freak out and call it elitism. Since most people who choose to be mutuals only and as such, are going to have to decline sometimes, are also those who are lengthier RPers...we're all categorized as Elitists.

People see what works for us as different kinds of RPers as something that is in opposition to them, and judgement of them. We can’t have scores of active partners when we write ten thousand word or more replies to everyone, it doesn’t work for us, and that doesn’t mean we think you’re an awful RPer for doing this differently than we do. We’re just exercising boundaries that are necessary for the way we enjoy it. Like how much length in return, literacy, and dedication we’re going to give and expect in return. It isn’t passing judgement, but when you want to write with a particular portrayal and they’re limited threads, mutuals only, novella and it shuts you out of the interaction, it’s easy to agree with the posts you’ve seen condemning differences of choice as elitist and hateful.

While you'd hope that people would exercise their own judgement, with the way that the RPC is so often on edge, you can't entirely blame people for being willing to believe they can identity a potential source of unpleasantness to avoid. As wild as it is, that includes people within the novella community. Your OOC is too well-spoken, your writing is too well-written? Might be an elitist. Even while they write much the same way as you do without realizing it!

I think when most people say someone here is "intimidating," it's not exactly what they mean, but for others, it's more literal than it is literary.

If you have any reason to believe this might be part of the issue, while I would never advise anyone to alter their writing to be something they personally feel is lesser than what they're capable of, you might want to consider a greater air of the casual in any OOC posts you make. Try to be as approachable there as you can - so long as that doesn't mean lying about it, of course! If we're genuinely not that gregarious or socially open, we shouldn't act like that's the case. That sets up one party with expectations that are neither true nor going to prove anything but frustrating to the other party.

I've had some success with that! And, even at my most casual, I'm not the most approachable of people lol I come off as rather intense, kind of aggressive, way too salty, curses flow from me like water during a monsoon, interspersed with...well, things like "interspersed." So, if I've seen success with that, it's possible that muns who are more genuinely gregarious, chill, and verbally polite people might see it as well!

It seems to be a case of allowing other muns the opportunity to see that you, yourself, are not frightening. You're just a person like they are, and a person who isn't going to be hateful to them if they are not perfect writers or perfectly on your level of writing. When that is apparent, approaching the writing itself is more openly done - yes, this mun has a grasp on description/dialogue/vocabulary/descriptive scenes that I do not, but they don't aggressively think they're the shit for it, so, it's safe for me to try to interact.

The Wall of Words that was once a poster for how badly they might be treated is now a collection of RP replies.

Write for the partners you want to attract.

Again, I do not want anyone to stop writing in the way they enjoy! However, what we put out is also what we attract to a large degree. It could be that your writing is an attractant for only a very small portion of the RPC, and it already is, by virtue of being both novella and the sort of novella it is.

That's very easy to do anyway, but even more so if we have few partners to write with. What we have on display is minimal, it might not have the range we're actually capable of, and therefore, might not be attracting that range of muns.

This is something I have experienced as well, though it was a little different a situation. Upon first writing RP on tumblr, I couldn't find anyone writing novella. I could barely find anyone doing short multi-para. Just as I'd find it inappropriate for someone approaching me to insist that I do one-line RP because it's what they do, I didn't find it appropriate to force novella on these muns. That's what I agreed to by interacting with them, after all! It isn't what I enjoy doing, however, it's harder for me to write short replies, so, I was consistently on the lookout for novella partners.

Those novella partners couldn't exactly see decades of my lengthy RPs, though, since they didn't take place on tumblr. They could only see the current threads, which were all quite short and rather limited in range of action, tone, muse interaction, and so on. Basically, just about whatever someone was willing to give me, and those things were pretty similar. I couldn't exactly blame potential partners for looking at this "resume" and thinking that I just thought I wanted to write novella, but was capable of neither that nor the sort of stories I wished to create.

Since I couldn't find partners to organically give me these different things, I wrote them sans partners. Much of this was in headcanon form, showing that I had spent quite a long time thinking about my canon character as more than was presented in canon only, as well as showing that I could string more than a paragraph together, but it seems like you've got the muse information down, so this might not be the best direction for you.

That might be the other thing I wrote to this end: one shots.

Especially as I do not do open starters as someone who requires some plotting, these served as a way of allowing various situations to be displayed in which other muns could better see what interacting with my muse was actually like. They could see that this truly is the way I'd prefer to write, this is a better display of my muse under various conditions and emotions, and this is how interacting with my muse as this or that type of person might go.

I don't know if you have a canon, OC, or multiples of both, but it also seemed to be helpful that I took canon events people might be familiar with and wrote snippets of them from my muse's perspective - yes, even if they were already in those events, it shows your unique portrayal. People like that for the same reason they like fanfic, a dozen people can write a canon event and give you a dozen different takes on it. It meant that they'd be more likely to read it at all, too, let's be honest.

If you have an OC, you can flesh out a fandom-specific verse they have by writing such a one shot revolving around a fandom event. I'd say not to directly insert your OC into a major canon event, but if you're going to anyway, be sure you are giving realistic changes that might occur with this character's presence in that event. Not going overboard and making them the thing that saves the day, not just having them there in the midst of some great cataclysm miraculously surviving to bear witness only. It's still my advice to place them within that world and have them aware of an event.

Something like...trying to think of a fandom and event the most people would be familiar with here...your OC is in the MCU or has a verse there, they're employed as a police officer with the NYPD - tell me what they did at work the day of the invasion in New York City in the 2012 Avengers. Did they see superheroes in the distance while they and their fellow officers were engaged in a situation they were in no way equipped to handle? And how did your OC feel about that?

That sort of thing.

If it's a canon, try to think of a situation that isn't represented among your current threads, but that is also going to be of interest potential partners. If you have few threads showing your muse in friendship with another, find something in their canon that does. No threads with much action, go for that. Show an aspect of your muse that was present when they were younger, but that is downplayed in them now. Show some things that will be new information from your unique portrayal, and do all of this while displaying your range as a writer - you can be more serious or more fun, can destroy someone with angst or make them hope a ship works out well.

This way, you're showing people what all they might get, not just what you've been given to work with. That can go a long way toward negating feelings of "intimidation" if all they're seeing is you doing one thing extremely well, so well that they feel they cannot compete with it. So, yeah, write the things you feel you're not good at, too! It puts people at ease to see you're not perfect either.

As regards rules...

Oh, boy...lmao with no intent to inflame anyone's righteousness here, so long as your rules are conveying what you feel they should, they're fine. I'm not going to say that rules cannot be a turn off, that you shouldn't find a voice that is clear, polite, and when it needs to be, firm. It's simply that you do not come off as someone who needs to be told that, Anon. If you're worried about how your rules might sound, they're almost certainly fine.

However, rules are the way they are for a reason - if you feel like you're coming off as too strict, harsh, whatever, there might be a reason why that was your first inclination. If you remake them to be softer, are you going to run into the same problems that caused you to harden them before?

I know, you're trying to attract people and downplay a notion of being "intimidating," but it's important to realize that, short of either finding a way to please everyone who comes across them or telling everyone to do whatever they please, you have no opinions, expectations, or needs, you're going to put people off. I've seen people be incredibly offended by the nicest of rules simply because they were rules. They were still clearly stated boundaries that did not align with what was desired.

For example, if I were to have in my RP rules the following:

My rules are basically just have fun and don't be a dick! This is just a hobby, I'm not paying you.

That's going to turn some people off and anger them because that's, firstly, incredibly vague, secondly, the latter part has become seriously negative.

If I were to have in my RP rules this:

I have a lot of detailed rules because I want to only write with people who will be as dedicated to it as I am, I'd rather we know now than later that we're not a good match before anyone is disappointed or offended!

That's going to turn some people off and anger them because it is contrary to the way they view and partake in the hobby. To these people, it'll come off as ridiculous expectations that are aggressive despite the wording not being so.

The point is, because this is a hobby dependent upon interacting with other people, there is a lot that is out of your control.

I probably should have done a better segue to this, but hey - most of this is out of your control.

By its very nature of individuals interacting, what is "intimidating" means different things to everyone. What I find to be that, isn't going to be what you find to be so. You can't know what someone, let alone everyone who says this, means by it in order to make those changes.

Some of those changes are a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation, like the rules.

Other changes are undesirable. You, obviously, cannot RP without partners, but it's no good making changes that will see the partners you won't work with being added, or that will ruin the things you enjoy about RP. If changing your writing style is going to do that, don't do it. If opening up new types of plots is going to do so, don't do it. Anything that is going to excessively give you stress or personal disappointment isn't a change you should make. That’s the sort of shit that was meant by it being “just a hobby” in the beginning - you’re not obliged to make yourself miserable like you are at a job sometimes, and you aren’t beholden to the standards of a professional author unless you wish to be.

It's wonderful that you're addressing this problem from the perspective of what you can do! The idea of changing much of anything is a negative one to many people. They have to be carefully approached to even consider that as a possibility, and once they do, it's more often than not that the reaction is volatile. We never think we're perfect until someone so much as loosely implies we might need work on something. So, your willingness and interest in what you can do to fix something nebulous is both incredible and a credit to how approachable you probably are in all actuality.

It bodes really well, is what I'm saying lol or...it would, if this were not the environment that it is. One in which people do react with volatility to anything that does not go exactly and immediately the way they desire. Including wanting to interact with a particular muse, then seeing that the mun doesn't write in their preferred style, length, or with their desired topics.

Many times, that's really what is meant by "intimidating." It isn't truly that they're afraid of you or your writing, but rather, that they're not getting exactly what they think they want, in the way they want, on the timeline they want. But they don't want to be offensive, they're walking on eggshells like most everyone is when telling someone, "I'm sorry, but I don't think we'll work out" is tantamount to personally attacking them.

So, giving what they feel is a compliment that still shuts down the possibility of someone trying to push for interaction anyway, that becomes the best approach. They're not giving you specifics because no, they may not even know those specifics, it might just be the feeling your writing gives them, but they're also not giving them when they have them because they don't want to be unfairly taken to task for the crime of being honest with you. After all, when we don't know someone OOC yet, we don't know that they're a reasonable person. Telling someone, "I like what you're doing, I love your muse, but the tone of your writing isn't something I can reply to, it's just too different," might have them defensively putting words in your mouth.

As I said, asking someone for details didn't get me very far. I've had to try to piece together what "intimidating" means to many different people over the years by what they tell me in conversations away from the mun they said was thus more than anything. So, don't expect that you'll get much either, but next time someone tells you this, if they seem like someone who won't take as you pressing for interaction and react badly, ask them to give you specifics. Tell them you'd like to know what makes you intimidating to them so that you can work on it, that it would really help you out to know. Make it about them helping you, not declining you.

Just going off of the only writing I have from you, which is definitely not sufficient (if you'd like, you can always submit a portion of your in character writing or tumblr message me some of it so that I might be able to be more effective) since it's both short and OOC, I'd say people might feel that you're not...relaxed? Not entirely the word I am looking for, I apologize! But something in that vein!

It doesn't come off like you're frighteningly or excessively official to me, but knowing tumblr, I can see it. Because you are quite well-spoken, and even in this casual format, you are displaying good grammar and principle. Fifteen years ago, I might have also felt something like “intimidated" by you!

Like everywhere, tumblr is full of educational snobbery. Which is insane, considering it's also full of crimes against writing that make me want to rip my hair out, but anyway...the mark of being authoritative is to display one's intellect the only way we truly can here - by suddenly out writing everyone. If we're already establishing ourselves as well-spoken muns, we've laid the foundation of being capable of utterly destroying someone publicly by shaming them on a core level.

Tumblr is also full of people who are not at a point of life experience, and the writing experience accrued within it, to use what they've learned in the higher education the majority have or are presently obtaining. It's easy for younger people to feel pre-offended by someone who writes with more skill and confidence than they do. They've bought into the notion of such validations of superiority, but they can't quite lay those down upon themselves yet, or see that they’re capable of this and it doesn’t make them an elitist, so, it’s absurd to assume everyone else is on the same pretext.

Please, everyone here under, like, 25, I'm not shaming you. I've obviously long internalized it as well! When I'm angry, I don't become less articulate, I become more so. That probably says something unpleasant about how well I understand this problem. So, don't be offended. It's a societal problem, we're all impacted by it. It just takes a little bit to realize these things is what I'm saying here. Not that you're dumb and malicious because you're young and learning.

With this in mind, it's very possible that some younger muns, or muns who have otherwise been given cause to feel they are lesser than you because of your proper writing, might be intimidated by it. Part of that is also that proper writing, and verbal speech, can come off as lacking warmth. It can be impersonal, give fewer clues as to someone's tone when that's already lacking in writing that isn't descriptive, as in an RP thread itself.

Again, I always have a bit of an issue recommending someone change something vital about themselves, and one's mode of writing is that. However, you might want to consider giving way to some indicators of not being official in your OOC behavior toward others. It's something that I did, something I will admit I still struggle with as well. I'm not naturally inclined to add things like a :) or a xD because I have some problems conveying those things either correctly or organically in person. If I'm not either, literally, acting or feeling something intensely, I'm the grand master of resting bitch face no matter what I'm feeling.

As a quick on-the-safe-side interruption: people, please, I am aware that some forms of neurodivergence can exhibit in struggles with understanding and conveying tone, as can be the side effect of some medications and physical conditions. It’s possible that you have this difficulty, Anon, it’s possible that some of the people you have approached do. Advising how to work on understanding and conveying tone with these difficulties in mind is a huge post of its own, however. (Though, if people might be interested in it, I can add it to the list, of course.) All we can do is try our best, work on it, and if we know we have this issue, politely warn partners in your rules so they know you’re not coming off less emotive and warm intentionally. You’re not thinking yourself in an ivory tower above them. I so do not want to be bitched at about how advising someone in ways to be more approachable in text is ableist, just don’t. I don’t know you, Anon, so I don’t know what difficulties you may or may not have, if you do have some complication that is impacting this in your own opinion, please, just send another ask and I can work with that information more specifically!

It's also...it grates on my nerves when people text speak, I'm not going to lie. So, forcing myself to do anything too close to it feels like someone has separated the halves of my brain. I do it because it can make people more comfortable, I don't sound like a damn robot like I easily can when trying to explain something with a lot of specifics, for example.

What was easier was letting go of the inhibition of writing conversationally. That is always something that is advised against intensely, it isn't proper writing. Don't write like you speak, and all that. It's often been my inclination to write conversationally, even if I struggled to let the hell go and actually do it, and when I allowed myself to do so, people responded to it much better. It's something I get compliments on as a part of what can make my storytelling immersive, humorous, relatable, and frightening. (Just so that the last bit there isn't confounding - in addition to the professional writing that sometimes pays for my internet, I write horror lol...now y'all know! I deal in "freak shit," I'm sure.)

People responded to me much better. I still get that my writing is intimidating, but it tends to be over length and wording more than being wholly unapproachable. Too like trying to respond to a novel that most people would only listen to if it was about a character they were deeply into and read by an actor they were also deeply into. There seems to be a more natural engagement with the material for more people this way.

I'm only using this as an example of something I found that worked to some degree in making me more approachable, meant to say that there might be something that you would enjoy, unique to yourself, that would make your writing more approachable for more muns. I'm in no way recommending that you, or anyone else, try to go with what I did! That isn't going to work out for everyone, of course. It isn't everyone's solution in those specifics, just the idea that following what people have expressed they especially enjoy about your writing could be a good path.

Other things to consider:

When you have obtained a new partner who says this not in declining further interaction, but within a conversation or one of those interaction memes, especially if you are writing them a starter at this time, experiment with what you can do in your writing that makes it more approachable. I say “experiment” because this is another point of individuality, it's naturally going to vary like everything else.

Like I said above a few times, most people approach RP in terms of reaction. And, again too, that's part of RP. I didn't say it earlier because I felt like that was obvious, but after considering...how tumblr is, I probably should say it. It is necessary to have things to react to in order to build the interaction between muses and their world. I believe in the “yes, and” method and having things to react to. My meaning by saying that people approach RP in terms of reactions was that people excessively do so. Their muses have trouble existing fully in their own right sometimes, they literally require multiple points of possible reaction.

So, give it to them while you’re figuring each other’s writing out.

When you're writing your starter or replies, give them what I call Actionable Points in unexpected places. For example, when your muse is doing as I said earlier, sitting in their chair, having Deep Thoughts they're not expecting any action within, give them something in the environment itself to interact with. Perhaps there is a pet, an insect, temperature change, or sound for their muse to notice.

He was still, as though the animating force of his very soul had flown. So entrapping were his thoughts that the ladybug making its way across the floor, technically before his eyes, escaped notice. No notice, even as it briefly took flight like a tiny, skipping stone across water, headed for where his attention would truly prefer to light as well.

Which would be, of course, the other muse in the room. They can't interact with the things in your muse's mind that you're revealing to the mun, but they can have their attention jump to the insect. They can also react to your muse’s facial expressions, most people make micro-expressions even while in thought, but this isn’t as active or available.

Just small, simple possibilities that make no difference to the immediate happenings in the thread. They can become things of great difference, that's half the fun of it! How something like a bug can alter the course of a thread's trajectory is really cool to see happen.

By doing this, feeding multiple Actionable Points into the reply, you're giving someone who feels intimidated by the thread's length and weight more points to feel active within it. If they can see themselves interactively within the text of the story, it's less intimidating I've found.

Eventually, people relax and start creating these points for themselves. They're now part of this story and its direction, so they organically see things within it. While their muse is in the room with the Chair Muse, they notice a ladybug on the floor themselves because they feel comfortable and confident enough to create that sort of realistic moment.

Most of my experiments of this nature have had that objective - make my writing partner feel more confident about their writing, muse, themselves. It either works out wonderfully, or...you can spoon-feed some people actions, ideas, and confidence forever without them ever taking up the spoon themselves (some people will totally miss the spoon every time, even). At the latter point, if they're still feeling unconfident about writing with you, "intimidated," it's never going to change. It might be better that this be addressed as something that simply isn't going to work out for either of you.

Because it can become tiresome to do this. Tiresome and disheartening, and you never want to set yourself up to feel like you've wasted your effort and energy. That's a great way to experience burnout and frustration.

Another thing to make yourself, and by nature of that, your writing, more approachable and available is to put out a decent variety of memes for people to send you and engaging in tagging games. Not only do these not need to be writing memes like starters, it's better that they are not! If someone is intimidated by you/your writing, they're not going to engage with a meme meant to begin a thread.

Reblog memes that are meant to be answered OOC like headcanon asks, writing asks, and asks about the mun. Do tag games with tests in them, bolding aesthetics or other information, and those that give details about the muse...or even yourself, there are Munday versions as well!

The point of doing this is to show people you want to interact with them, neither you nor your writing is scary and removed from the vox populi of the RPC. You're not someone with so much skill that you're above such common pursuits. You're just another RPer with the same things of interest as they do - enjoying yourself whether it's something silly like a quiz that tells you what coffee your muse would be or an in-depth headcanon. Just another mun who loves their muse and wants interactions with them.

This, too, is something I tried, and it might have been the most successful thing I did. It's even easier to do these days, as more muns don't just tag people outright, but rather, offer that anyone can take it, they just want to be tagged back so they can see the results. You don't have to wait for someone who neither knows you nor knows whether you'd be alright with being tagged to tag you in them anymore!

And as an aside, this is why I encourage that. I've seen some muns out there taking issue with it, thinking it lazy and less interactive for people to be forgoing tagging others in it. Yes, it is unfortunate that you might miss such a game from a mutual or friend, but you do realize you can go to their blog anytime? You can search their tag for these kinds of dash games, or scroll what you missed while you were away, and I recommend doing that anyway with close friends because tumblr's notifs are perpetually screwed.

It's not less inclusive, it's more so. I think it could even go a distance toward lessening the illusion that all friendships in the RPC are "cliques." Instead of the same five muns, none of whom are you, being tagged every time because they occur more quickly to the mun who interacts with them often, there is an open invitation for you to do it. It allows muns to be more visible to those they haven't established friendships with yet and allows others to put themselves out there as approachable and interested.

Alright, back on topic!

Send others these sorts of interactions when you see them. Unless someone has it in the tags or their rules that memes are only for established writing partners, send them an applicable meme.

Applicable, in this case, would be those OOC-answered memes. With most muns, it would be poor form to send in memes that are too personal. Such as sending someone you've never really spoken to, plotted with, etc. a particularly raunchy headcanon ask. I was going to give an example, but for the sake of keeping this SFW lol...we all know the sort of ask I speak of.

With some muns, this isn't an issue. Any excuse to talk about their muse is a good excuse, and they'd not have reblogged the meme if they did not intend for people to send it in. I know that I'm such a mun, and unless someone only ever sends me sexually explicit questions like this, I don't mind at all. It's just an aspect of my muse to detail in a HC.

Just exercise reasonable awareness - "read the room." If a mun seems to answer those questions from anyone, then it is alright to send them in. If they have established openness on these discussions, have nothing in their rules that would imply they'd be perturbed, etc. Conversely, if they've established such opposing behavior that you have to wonder why they posted this meme at all? Don't send anything from that one. They may be trying to establish greater comfort with these topics, but whether they realize it or not yet, they may not be ready for this to sent by anyone who isn't a very established writing partner/friend.

You want to be attracting good attention, demonstrating that you're not someone intimidating, not giving muns any reason to be disturbed by you. Even if they openly asked for it!

This brings us back to: no, really, a lot of things are out of your control.

How people view us isn't as up to us as we'd like, on or offline. Everyone has preconceived notions, biases, and developed preferences. And everyone has had experiences that lead them to react differently to all of these things where they do and do not exist.

Unfortunately, the RPC fosters a serious environment of paranoia, hostility, and the inherent defensiveness of both. Even when that is coming across more peaceably, it can lead to things like...the multiple muns I've known in the last two years alone that seem to almost panic and block potential partners for extremely negligible things they're perceiving as a red flag portending of inevitable bad behavior.

I really do mean irrational actions that are often contrary from one move to another. One potential partner is too exuberant in response to plotting, they are designated a red flag for being too inclined to pester OOC. Another is lacking exuberance and does not easily come up with plots, they are designated as being too passive a partner who will drop. One is too nice, they won't possibly be able to tell that mun of problems in the thread, another is too aggressive, they'll do nothing but stress the mun and fight with their friends. And on and on.

It's not an unreasonable situation, as we all continue to be reminded, the RPC is far more hostile than it should be for what it is. We all (that's not entirely true, but let us pretend it is) want to avoid problems and enjoy the hobby, but in the attempt to avoid those problems, we often see them where they are not.

So, you really cannot control whether someone designates you as being too much this, too little that, an inevitable problem. Your presentation is in the eye of the beholder, just as what "intimidating" is, is in the eye of the intimidated.

You can only try to identify the things that might be putting off the most people you want to write with, work on them when and where they will not ruin your time here, and hope for the best.

It's wonderful that you care, but it's also wonderful that you seem willing to accept that there are things you just have to let go of as already being out of your hands. That's honestly the best way to approach RP, period. The only things you are fully in control of are your own creativity and your behavior. That's it, in the end.

Present yourself with honesty as to who you are as a mun, be as approachable as you truly are, and know what you're looking for in writing partners.

Personally, from what little I have seen of you, Anon, there isn't anything that glaringly needs changing. You're not possessed of a shitty attitude or unrealistic expectations. You seem like a pretty reasonable mun to me who is struggling with something any of us who concentrate on the writing do; being vaguely told we're "intimidating," and seeking other partners who are interested in the same variety of RP we are.

That's my final point to touch on, and the one most likely to piss people off: there are different varieties of RP, and the people telling you this might be in the wrong corner for you.

That doesn't make them bad RPers or anything, variety is good, it's an open hobby! We're not all compatible, though, and so many problems arise from muns not accepting this reality, but rather, taking extreme offense over it.

No one I have ever established the sort of RP I enjoy most with has told me that I am "intimidating."

The people who have said this to me have been those who would not have worked out anyway. That's not said in some bizarre bitterness lol I have the best writing partners, I could not ask for anything more! It's just said in honesty of continuing to see them on my dash and/or interacting with friends. They blog and muse hop often, prefer the genres and fandoms I do not, and so on.

Changing to be less intimidating to those RPers would put me back where I started when joining the RPC here years ago, and while it's great that a lot of people enjoy RP the way they do, I don't. I worked rather hard to get away from it.

So, you do have to consider what you want. Do you want any partners, or do you want the right ones for you?

I'm genuinely glad that people are enjoying themselves, especially when they do not have hateful things to say about those who enjoy RP differently than themselves, but it'd be nice if some of the niches in the RPC were a bit wider! It shouldn't be this difficult to find people in a writing hobby who are invested in the writing, but it is. And it is something you should keep in mind when figuring out this whole "intimidating" thing.

So, my ultimate recommendation would be to assess whether there are things you can be doing to make you, as the mun, more approachable so that your writing is less “intimidating" to people within the RP corner you’re trying to attract, but consider whether the people who have said this to you might just be looking for different things and not as viable as partners as you might have liked. There are definitely more RPers on tumblr who do not enjoy RP in this way than there that do, and while the only thing you have control over is yourself, you don’t have control over how you and what you are putting out there is perceived.

I really do think that most of the “intimidation” problem comes from different varieties of RP and what muns have been led to believe about them. You check off a lot of boxes for the false perception of “elitism,” as a literate, long-term, novella RPer. People are going to see many things that you do in a threatening or off-putting light through no fault of your own because of that. Even other, lengthier writers can fall into that because they feel overwhelmed at the volume of content you have, for example. A thing that should be promising of how well-developed your muse is and how committed you are to your interest in them can come off as overwhelming to people who are less well established or interested in being around for the long game. I certainly don’t think it’s a good idea for you to remove that material or stop writing it! I cannot encourage people enough to do what you have!

Maybe, since you expressed concern of this specifically as well, you could consider how it is presented?

Do you have approachable formatting on those posts? Do they appear to be a lot of very plain text, or do you practice adding some graphics like a header and dividers, formatting that also breaks up the text like segmenting it into clear topics with bold, bigger text, and so on? Is it the opposite and potentially difficult to read, like using font that is smaller than the default small size available, or incredibly busy with colors? It’s a difficult balance, and one that will never be 100% appealing or accessible to 100% of the RPC, to make things visually appealing, easy to read, and informative while being engaging. It could be that you have information people would love to know, but the design of how you’re putting it out there is adding to them feeling overwhelmed.

Maybe, consider how it is placed on your blog, as well? Using specific tags for organization and having a detailed navigation might help. Instead of someone pulling up every one of your many HC posts in the HC tag you have, they could choose specific topics to view at their own pace with a little more control over it. Giving people some control in their experience can go a long way to giving them comfort in it!

So, let’s say you have a headcanon that addresses how your muse portrayal diverges from strict canon, and in that HC, it’s important to address their mental health and how it impacts their relationships with others. That’s a great HC, it’s going to be informative, but it has multiple topics within it. You’d want to tag it with the overall HC tag, a tag for your “player canon” topics, muse metal health discussions, and a general tag for your muse’s relationships/interactions with others.

When you do that, in your navigation, if someone clicked your tag-based link for all information pertaining to the muse’s mental health, they’ll just get that. They’ll see this headcanon post, they’ll see all relevant, tagged posts you’ve made or reblogged, but only that pertain to this topic. They won’t also get twenty extra posts that don’t discuss this, but do discuss your muse’s personal opinion on making bread at home and why sourdough is a labor of love. Unless, of course, your muse is partaking in that labor of love as an exercise that benefits their mental health, of course lmao

Delineating topics for people to engage with at their own pace, need, or interest can prevent them from scrolling through what could be hundreds of HC posts. We all desperately want people to read every one of our posts, especially if our portrayal is different from canon or popular fanon or we have an OC whose entire existence has to be learned this way, but we have to resist the temptation to make people read them all, and all at once. Because that is how it comes across when someone pulls up a ton of HCs - they may be super interested, but it’s a lot that they may put pressure on themselves to learn immediately, back to back to back. It begins to feel like a task quickly. Most people who are genuinely interested in your muse and writing are going to end up reading all of them eventually! If they don’t shut themselves down on doing so prematurely, and this could be a way of helping them avoid doing that.

Hell, if you’re really feeling it, you can even link to closely related posts and your navigation on those HC posts! Just mention at the top of the post that this is related to the one linked here, and to find more informative posts on any topic, please visit the navigation page here. You can even remind at the bottom of the post with just the links.

While like anything, it could make people feel you’re too organized and “serious” about RP, but you probably want other “too serious” RPers to interact with, so it might be a passive way of establishing partners that won’t work out. I think, for the right partners, an organized system they can interact with easily would be appealing, and again, a lot of people in the RPC do have problems that disrupt their ability to engage with a great deal of content at once. This might make them feel less overwhelmed and frustrated by themselves, or negative about themselves that they cannot but aspire to your level of content and organization.

Willing to bet that much of “intimidation” comes from negative feelings about oneself projected outward protectively and unconsciously, honestly. So, when you see ways to combat that, take it on. Make it clear that you’re not expecting anyone to be anything other than themselves, you appreciate your partners’ unique approaches and skills. The more of them you have, the more approachable you are proving yourself, too.

Since you are interested in long-term and have so much material on your muse, I have to assume this is a case of having gone on hiatus or had partners who have left. You could be appearing as less approachable because you’ve few interactions, and that’s a problem that will start correcting itself as you have more of them. If that’s the case, it may be adding serious frustration in the slow process of getting your foot back in the door, but I believe you can do it!

I hope people haven’t made you feel too anxious or bad about yourself by telling you you’re “intimidating,” Anon. Try not to internalize it or make into a more serious matter than it is! I really do think it has less to do with the RPer being told that than it does all these other factors, poor ability to express ourselves very much included. You’re interested in what you can do, willing to accept what you can’t do, overall approaching this from a chill and reasonable place, I think you’re going to find the people you need to with this attitude!

Keep at it, keep doing what you love, and my sincerest best of luck to you! Thank you for giving me the excuse to discuss this topic, it’s an important one that I hope made some difference to others out there as well. I apologize that took me a minute to get it out, and that it is still a bit more disjointed than I’d have liked.

#answered #anonymous #the intimidation problem #interactions #rp advice #tumblr rp advice #tumblr rp #long post #rpbetter

[kaitycole]

chapter two: how it all began

Summary: Two little friends have always desired one thing: to end up as siblings. So when the chance presented itself after a finalized divorce, who were they to decline such an opportunity to finally bring their parents together?

Pairings: Bokuto Kōtarō x f!Reader

Word Count: 2577

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Mentions of divorce, cheating, cussing

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this series. Part of the @babythotshq​​ Dearest Daddy Collab

Tags: open (send me an ask to be added!)

October 2018

Jess wasn’t sure if she should take Bo up on his offer, her mind had her convinced that it was just him being friendly. He saw the way he had looked at you and yeah, he said you had just gotten married, but that doesn’t mean feelings just fade.

She had pulled up his contact several times in the two weeks since she’d gotten it. Since she wasn’t familiar with Osaka or Japan at all, there were no run-ins with him which Jess couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

It was a rainy Friday when she finally texted him; her thoughts had caught up to her and it dawned on her that no number of miles would cure the pain in her heart.

The adult part of her understood that people are busy and Bo wasn’t ignoring her, he is a pro-athlete after all. But the other part of her, the part that isn’t so mature, chalks up the 20 minutes that passed as he didn’t really mean his offer.

Bo was finishing up in the locker room after practice, he pulled his phone out of his bag before stuffing in his practice clothes. He was on his way out when he finally glanced down and saw two notifications.

Y/N: Just wanted to remind you that I won’t be able to text until next Friday! I’ll bring back souvenirs! (4:05 pm)

He didn’t reply, it was painful to hear about your honeymoon and to be fair he didn’t really want a souvenir either; some constant reminder that you were with someone else. Not to mention all you talked about was how much Youta wanted to start a family. Yeah, he really didn’t need that reminder.

He did perk up however when he saw the second text, one from an unknown number.

Jess: Hey. It’s Jess. (3:12 pm)

Bo quickly noticed that it’d been over an hour since Jess texted him and he panicked. Should he call her or text her back? He groaned when he got to the main exit only to see it was pouring and he once again forgot an umbrella.

Bokuto: Hey! Just got out of practice, sup? (4:40 pm)

Jess smacked the palm of her hand against her forehead, instantly feeling dumb for not realizing it sooner. She stared at her screen, suddenly unsure of what to say.

Jess: I was wondering if your offer was still available? (4:44 pm)

A huge grin spread across Bokuto’s face as he read the message. It no longer mattered to him that it was raining heavily as he walked to the bus station or that he’d have to shower again when he got home.

Bokuto: ‘Course! When are you free? (4:50 pm)

Jess: Sunday? Noon? (4:51 pm)

Bokuto: See you then! (4:52 pm)

Saturday was spent texting Bo most of the day, eagerly deciding where they should go. They ended up agreeing to go to the Shinsaibashi district once Jess mentioned needing to pick up a few things for her apartment. They were both surprised when they learned they lived in neighboring complexes, just a short walk to the others.

On Sunday, Bo all but bounced his way to Jess’s apartment. He had mentioned their texts and conversations to Kuroo who was almost as excited as Bo was; Kuroo liked you, he always had, but he didn’t like seeing Bo so hung up on you and Jess gave him a way to let you go. Jess opened the door and was taken back for a moment, the last time she’d seen Bo he was post-game sweaty in a volleyball uniform, but here he was in her doorway wearing tight black jeans and a hoodie taking her breath away.

Bokuto smiled when saw Jess dressed up; when they met she had on a pantsuit, but here she looked more comfortable. She had one a maroon knee-length dress, stockings and brown boots, accompanied with a scarf; her brown hair was down and curled.

“Ready?” He reached out his hand.

“Ready!” She took his hand as she shut the door.

*                      * A few hours shopping around Shinsaibashi and Bo’s hands are full with most of Jess’s bags. She swore to him that she really didn’t mind carrying them, they were hers after all, but Bo wouldn’t hear it. What kind of gentleman would he be if he didn’t help? She has a few new pieces to add to her wardrobe, a couple of picture frames for prints she wanted to hang up and a few beauty ideas.

He motioned for her to head to a café, sitting her bags in a spare chair at their table.

“You sure there’ll be room in your apartment for all this?” He teased.

Her cheeks burn red as she tried to hide her face with the menu, “I’m sorry. I could’ve gone shopping on my own. I’m sure you don’t want to waste a day off running errands.”

He waved her off, “It’s fine. This is fun. My only plans were to watch TV.”

“Oh. I guess I thought you might hang out with Y/N.” Jess smiled at the waitress as she ordered.

Bo quickly ordered what Jess had, not really paying much attention the mention of you had thrown him for a loop. “I…uhm…she’s out of town.” He cleared his throat, “Honeymoon.”

“I…I am so sorry! I shouldn’t have said anything!” Jess’s eye widened instantly feeling awful. “Wow I just keep messing up today.”

“It’s fine. Really.” He took a sip of his water, “I’m having a lot of fun.”

Jess bit her lip before she began to pick at the croissant she had ordered. Bo ate quietly too which was odd for him but he really wasn’t sure what to say.

“So?” They both spoke at the same time causing them both to laugh.

“You go first.” She offered with a small smile.

“What brought you to Japan?” Bo asked, mouth slightly full of croissant which makes her laugh for a second.

She fiddled with her napkin, her mouth dried slightly. “Can I speak freely?”

Bo cocked his head to the side, not fully understanding, “Of course.”

“I guess you could say I have a Y/N of my own.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “His name is Mark and for years he told me that when he fulfilled his goals, he’d finally be ready for a relationship. Well six years is a long time and 5300+ miles seemed far enough to start over.”

Bo nodded, part of him was glad that he met someone who understood, but the other part, the bigger part of him hated it because no one deserves to feel that way.

“Well, Mark sounds like a dick, but I am glad that it brought you here. I like you.” Bo smiled, noticing her cheeks turned bright pink.

“I like you too.” Jess smiled.

*                      * It didn’t take long for Jess and Bo to become attached at the hip; after the first few hangouts they quickly learned they had a lot in common. And for the things they didn’t have in common? They just taught each other about it.

The moment she expressed interest in volleyball, Bo jumped on the opportunity to teach her; even bringing her to the gym to show her a few moves with Hinata and Kuroo. The latter spent most of the time teasing Bo by flirting with Jess, even picking her up when she assisted in a block. Kuroo lived to pick on Bo, but he was happy Bo had someone in his life to help him get move on. He even managed to snap a photo when Bo picked up her, cheering with a sparkle in her eyes when she spiked a ball.

When Bo mentioned that he had always liked plants but couldn’t seem to keep on alive, Jess jumped on the chance to help him. Her apartment was filled with various types of plants; flowers and herbs and Bo loved listening to her go on and on about them. She went out and bought pots, soil and seeds and made it a challenge to see who could grow their plant the tallest; Bo quickly accepted and then in the same breath overwatered the seeds. Jess gifted him a fake plant short after.

Mid-April 2019

“Are you sure I look okay?” Jess asked, for the fourth time since Bo picked her up. They were sitting in his car outside of Kuroo’s apartment. Just like the other three times, he assured her that she looked beautiful.

“You’ll be the best looking one there.” Bo smiled as she rolled her eyes at him. He wasn’t lying, based on what Bo heard from Kuroo it was mostly just going be you, Jess, Bo, Kuroo and Kenma.

She looked down at her outfit one more time; dark blue skinny jeans, a pale pink flowy top with a thin gray sweater. She knew she’d looked fine, this was her go-to outfit back in California, but for some reason she didn’t feel confident in it. Maybe she should’ve worn her black ankle boots instead of her chestnut brown ones.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Bo opened her door, reaching his hand for hers. She gave him a straight smile as he pulled her into a hug. Breathing in his woody scented cologne instantly relaxed her; sandalwood quickly became a scent she yearned for since meeting him.

He lifted her chin with his index finger, making eye contact with her, “You look stunning. Stop worrying so much.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead causing her to smile.

He intertwined his fingers with hers before they walked into Kuroo’s apartment. Kuroo quickly answered the door.

“HEY HEY HEY!” Bo shouted in reply to Kuroo’s “HEY HEY!”

“Hey, Kuroo.” Jess smiled and then blushed when Kuroo grabbed her free hand, kissing the back of it.

“You know you can call me Tetsu.” He winked which caused Bo to pull Jess into the apartment, muttering that Kuroo worked just fine. Bo knew Kuroo was doing it to get under his skin, he wasn’t clueless, but Jess meant the world to Bo and he wanted to protect her. Kuroo was one of his closest friends and yeah, he trusted him, but Mark was still constantly on Jess’s mind. She needed more time to heal.

You were sitting on the couch when Bo and Jess walked in. You smiled at the pair, noting that Bo was still clinging on to her hand and how he had stiffened at Kuroo’s suggestion for her to call him by his first name.

After failing to agree on where to go to enjoy the night, Kuroo suggested seeing which set of best friends knew each other better. Kuroo clearly feeling that he and Kenma would have a landslide of a victory. Kenma shrugged since Kuroo took his gaming console and hid it which Kuroo and Bokuto took as agreeing. Bokuto was game for anything to show off his competitive side and to beat Kuroo.

The only issue was who would be Bokuto’s partner. Jess awkwardly stared between everyone not wanting to step on anyone’s toes.

“Bo, you can have Jess and Y/N. You’ll need all the help you can get.” Kuroo winked at Jess.

“It’s fine, I can sit this game out.”  Jess said, holding her hands up. “I’ll pick the questions to ask.” “Oh no, it’s fine.” You smiled at her, “I don’t mind seeing what you got.”

“Are we gonna have a cat fight?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow which gained a glare from you, an elbow to the ribcage from Kenma and Bo shaking his head.

“No. I just think it’d be fun. If I play, we’d smoke ya!” You teased Kuroo, sticking out your tongue.

“What do ya, Jess? Be my partner?” Bo smiled and you couldn’t help but see the way Jess’s face flushed as she nodded before moving to sit next to him.

You watched the two of them scoot closer to each other, Bo’s hand resting gently on her thigh as if that’s the most natural thing. Bo was a touchy person, you weren’t blind to that but it made you feel…jealous?

Once upon a time, during the first year you met Bokuto, you developed a crush on the two-toned haired boy. You thought that you had been obvious about it and had dropped hints, but Bo never seemed to reciprocate it or catch on. So, you moved on, leaving the idea in your first-year classroom.

“Y/N, ask the first question!” Kuroo shouted.

“Hold on, hold on.” You scrolled on a website until you found what you were looking for. “Okay, we’ll start with Team KuroKen: What’s your best friend’s favorite food?”

“Easy peasy! Apple pie!” Kuroo smirked, knowing he was right.

“Grilled Mackerel.” Kenma sighed, clearly uninterested.

“Correct!” You cheered. “Now for Team Bess.” “Bess?” Jess scrunched up her face.

You shrugged, “All I could think of on short notice.”

“Cool name or not, we’re gonna win!” Bo wrapped his arm around Jess’s waist, pulling her tighter to him. “Jess’s favorite food is mashed potatoes.”

Jess grinned towards you, “And Bo’s is BBQ meat.”

“C’mon Y/N, give us a hard question!” Kuroo begged.

The four of them continued to answer question after question until both teams had a tied score of 20. You began to smirk to yourself when you found the perfect question. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Jess, she seemed nice enough, but Bokuto had been your best friend for years and you didn’t like the fact that someone thought that six months was long enough to act like they knew Bo.

“Here we go, perfect question.” You winked at Jess, “What was the last movie your best friend watched?”

Team KuroKen quickly answered and a confident Kuroo started gloating about how they already won.

“Bo last watched Coco!” Jess exclaimed.

“Actually, it was (your favorite movie) a few weeks ago when I was upset.” You shrugged with a smirk on your face. Jess got up, excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

“WE WON!” Kuroo shouted before teasing Bokuto that maybe he’d have better luck next time.

“Kuroo, calm down.” Kenma sighed.

“No, Y/N, it was Coco.” Bo stood up, shaking his head, “We watched it together a few nights ago.”

“Well,” you stammered, crossing your arms. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You could’ve waited until I answered.” He let out a deep breath.

“That doesn’t make her your best friend.” You all but shouted.

“I can have more than one best friend.” Bo started walking towards the bathroom to find Jess. “You do, you have Youta, right? Why can’t I have Jess?”

Kuroo let out a low, awkward whistle before Kenma shook his head, heading into the kitchen.

“Youta is my husband. Jess is just...Jess. You’ve known her less than a year.”

“But you always said you’d marry your best friend. And so what? Jess is important to me, that should be enough for you to accept her.”

He walked down the hall, knocking on the bathroom door before gently opening it. He found Jess sitting on the side of the tub, tears in her eyes. Bo kneeled in front of her, pulling her into his arms, apologizing.

“Guess I should’ve just picked the questions, huh?” She laughed and a small sob mixed with it.

Bo started to laugh, “You’re something else, you know that?”

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#bokuto kotaro #bokuto x reader #dearest daddy series #bbthots collab #scheming monsters