#because it's something that *HE* did that he enjoyed doing therefore it must be stupid and pointless

[allfearstofallto]

I like writing Yandere Scaramouche as someone with a lot of rules because I like to think about how he enforced said rules.

Getting you to call him "my lord" instead of any other name you'd referred to him by was his first course of action. Scaramouche was already a man wound tight like a string about to snap, he believed that he only had to tell you once to get something done. Anything after that would result in a punishment of some form.

But Scaramouche has a soft spot in his heart for you. He does want you around after all. So when he comes to you that first day, when your big eyes are looking around your bedroom scared and shaking, but somehow still managing to shoot a glare at him, he smirks. You're like a little dog, you could bite any second, but you'd look so cute while doing it. Therefore, he decides to train you like a dog.

"Outside of this bedroom, you will only refer to me as 'my lord.' Understood?" this was your one and only time being told, and despite the fact that you scoffed and begged to go home instead of listening to what he said, he knew you'd think on his words eventually.

The next day you were free to roam his manor. You were mostly looking for your escape, testing doors and windows to see if maybe there was a way out, but your arrival was planned for many months before, even if he had less time to prepare the house for you, there wouldn't be an escape.

With his arms crossed, he watched as you tried to open the door to the back garden, locked of course. Even if you did manage to get out, eight armed guards were placed all through out the area, with orders of capture not kill in regards to you. You'd be dragged back before you even had a taste of freedom. But he didn't tell you that.

"You didn't eat today," he stated plainly. Your first meal in his home and you didn't even take a single bite of it. Even he, who did not need food to survive, didn't enjoy watching such a lavish dish go to the trash.

"You must think I'm stupid, Scaramouche-" your little huff of rude words was stopped in its track by his fingers hitting your lips. Your attitude was another issue he'd need to work on, but he wanted to fix one problem at a time.

It didn't hurt, the way the back of his hand met your mouth. Didn't even sting a little. It just felt demeaning. Like you were an animal being scolded and not a person. He did this every time you opened your mouth to call him anything, but his preferred title, and when you spewed profanities at him, he tap your lips a bit harder.

With a huff, you finally decided to call him, "My lord" after many disrespectful taps against your lips spanning over many days. Annoyance finally made you to decide to allow him to win this one, much to your dismay and his pleasure. Your reward for doing as you were told was a gift of sweets and confections, a treat you weren't given because of his vocal distate for such things.

You ate them with your arms crossed and your eyebrows knitted, glaring at him as he watched you eat. That little attitude of yours was going to be the next to go.

[soolh1k]

Not sure if your requests are open but could you do stray kids forgetting a date they had with (r) ? And maybe the aftermath of it? Thank you smm if you plan on doing this, I just really enjoy the way you right your angst.

- 🦴anon

🕸 umm... life 🕸

synopsis. when skz forgetting the date they had w you and the aftermath

pairing. bf!skz x reader genre. angst and fluff

a/n. Thank you so much for the request!!! I hope you like it and i am so glad that you like the way I write angst, means a lot to me ♡︎ love you 🦴 anon !! 🩷 english is not my first language so apologies for any misspellings or grammar. let me know if you'd like to be tagged !! YEAH AND SORRY FOR NOT POSTING!! I'LL BE BACK WITH MORE POSTS THESE DAYS LOVE UUU

✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ BANGCHAN

Chris was very focused on working on a new track. He wanted it to be perfect, and since he's someone who always finds flaws in things, he couldn't leave his studio until the new melody was flawless. Therefore, he wasn't even paying attention to his phone; he had it on silent just to finish that damn song. He didn't stop until he got frustrated because things weren't going as he wanted. So, he took a break to clear his mind and relax a bit. He picked up his phone and saw a ton of messages from you. It wasn't strange since you used to tell him everything, which he found adorable. However, he was surprised when he saw the messages you had sent him. Had he forgotten your date? No, that couldn't be true. He had it marked on his calendar, and he was genuinely looking forward to that day. He wanted to spend time with you; he missed you so much. He had messed up and needed to fix this urgently. He hadn't done it on purpose; he felt so guilty.

He quickly arrived at the apartment where you lived. He saw the food in the kitchen, and his heart sank. He barely realized how you must have felt sitting there alone in the middle of the night, waiting for him, excited to be only disappointed by him. The worst part was when he heard sobs coming from your room. You were crying because of him, because of his stupidity, and because of being a bad boyfriend.

He hurried to your room, making as little noise as possible. You were already lying in your bed, covered with your blanket up to your head. As soon as you felt your bed sink, something in you hoped it was Chris. When you heard his voice, you felt relieved but angry at the same time. You uncovered yourself and looked at your boyfriend with teary eyes, an action that hurt him even more. He didn't give you time to confront him; he already had you wrapped in his arms. All you could do was cry while holding him tightly.

"You're a fool, Chris," you said between sobs.

"I know, sweetheart, forgive me," he said, stroking your hair while still hugging you.

"I was so focused on my work that I never heard my phone, but I want you to know that my work will never be more important than you. You are my priority, beautiful."

"Do you promise it won't happen again?"

"It will never happen again, darling. Let's rest, okay? Tomorrow we'll have a lovely date. Sleep now, I love you."

✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ MINHO

He didn't know how much it hurt. Months without being able to go on a date with him. You didn't ask for much, not even for it to be a date outside the house. Just spending time together was enough for you. You just wanted to be with your boyfriend.

Minho hadn't even realized that you had sent him so many messages. He was trying to add new steps to the new choreography; the comeback was approaching, and he felt desperate to finish everything. He just wanted to rest.

It got really late; he was leaving the company around 1:30 am. When he reached the parking lot, the first thing he did was check his phone for any message from you. To his surprise, he had hundreds of messages from you, and the most concerning part was that the recent ones expressed disappointment towards him. What had he done wrong?

Slowly, he read each one and realized that you had a planned date today. He had completely forgotten, and he felt horrible. It had been months since you could go out or have a nice date. He put his phone aside and headed to his apartment. He needed to fix things with you; he knew you had been looking forward to this day for a long time.

As soon as he arrived at his apartment, he searched for you everywhere but couldn't find you. That made him even more nervous. He felt like he had lost you. However, he heard a sound coming from the bathroom—it was you, coming out after showering. At that moment, he breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he had messed things up, but at least you were still there.

You were frozen; you didn't expect Minho to come home so late. You stayed up late because you couldn't sleep due to anger and disappointment. So, you decided to take a shower to release all those consuming emotions. Lost in your thoughts, you felt someone wrapping their arms around you. You wanted Minho to let go, but deep down, you needed a hug. In whispers, you heard explanations from your boyfriend about how the stress of the comeback was consuming him, and he spent a lot of time at the company, even though he wished all that time was invested in you.

"Forgive me, please. I completely forgot that we were supposed to go out today. I'm really sorry that you felt that way, sweetie. It wasn't my intention to hurt you. Tomorrow we can go out; I'll stay home. But please, forgive me." You just nodded and gave him a small kiss.

"I love you, Minho."

"I love you too."

✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ CHANGBIN

You were sitting in your chair, waiting for Changbin to show up. You weren't even angry; just sad because you had planned this outing so much. You were worried because he wasn't answering your messages. You knew he had a busy job, spending most of his time in the studio producing with his friends. But you were hoping for the day when you could spend the entire day together, despite both of your stress and worries.

As it got later, you felt more tired. Without hope, you went to your room to change and remove your makeup. Today, you looked and felt beautiful, but it seemed like all that effort had gone to waste. You sat at your vanity, looked at yourself in the mirror, saw how tired you were, and started crying. Your relationship was wearing you down in a way you couldn't describe, but you wanted to stay because he made you happy. Changbin rarely failed in your relationship. Honestly, at the beginning, you expected something worse, but no, Changbin was the perfect boyfriend. The only complicated thing was his work, but you knew it was his dream, so you felt happy for him. You turned back to the mirror, saw tears, didn't even realize you were crying, which made you cry even more. You really missed your boyfriend, but things were getting more complicated. You just kept sitting there, crying in front of the mirror, waiting for your tears to stop.

Moments later, when you were calmer, you heard gentle knocks on your room door, followed by Changbin's voice asking for permission to enter. Something inside you didn't want to see him; you felt and looked horrible.

"Can I come in, princess?"

"Not now, Changbin, I need time," your voice sounded rushed, trying to remove your makeup as best as you could, mascara running like never before.

"Please, princess, I need to talk to you," the man sounded desperate.

"Just give me a few minutes, please." Saying that, you went to your bathroom, washed your face, and once clean, you ran to open the door. Your surprised boyfriend could only put his head on your shoulder; he exuded such a sad vibe.

"Forgive me, please. Time flew by, and I never realized we were going out today. I didn't even hear your messages. I'm really sorry, princess," Changbin was on the verge of tears, genuinely repentant.

"I know, Binnie, it's okay, don't worry," you said while stroking his head.

"It's not okay, princess. You are my everything, and today, I failed you. Forgive me, please. It will never happen again," he said between sobs. You couldn't believe he was crying.

"Love, I know how difficult your job can be. You have to do many things, and it's okay. I understand, and I trust you not to let it happen again. I love you," you said while hugging him tightly.

"I love you too, and sorry again."

✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ HYUNJIN

You were angry, not even sad, just angry. You had been wanting to see your boyfriend for a while, and as soon as he told you he had some free time, you planned many things to spend time with him. You even prepared many things for him, cooked various dishes, bought a little gift, and even tried to paint something for him. It turned out beautiful, but your boyfriend never showed up to see your little gifts.

You were on your way home when you felt someone approaching you. It made you nervous because it was already dark, and someone approaching wasn't a good sign. You started walking faster, but you heard the footsteps of the other person accelerating too. You didn't want to start running because if you weren't fast enough, things would end badly. Besides, you were carrying the things you had taken to the place where you were going to meet Hyun. All you were praying for was to reach a street where there were more people to lose that person. However, your wish couldn't be fulfilled, and you felt the person following you grab you by the shoulders. You almost fainted right there, but upon hearing the person's voice, your soul returned to your body.

"Why are you walking so fast, my goodness," said Minho, trying to regulate his breath.

"Oh my god, Minho! I almost had a heart attack. I thought I was about to be kidnapped. I swear I won't survive the night," you said, speaking very fast. Your voice didn't even have an annoyed tone; you could only hear relief.

"I called you several times, but you never paid attention. You were in your own world. What did you want me to do?" he complained.

"Well, your friend, the idiot, stood me up and never replied to my messages," you complained with an annoyed tone.

"I know, that's why I came. Honestly, it wasn't his intention. As soon as he saw the messages, he tried to run out, but the idiot tripped and sprained his ankle," Minho explained.

"Oh my god, but is he okay?" you asked worried.

"Crying but yes, he's okay. If I were you, I'd go to the company to see him because otherwise, it's going to end up being a disaster," a sigh was all that came out of you, nodding your head. You accompanied Minho back to the company.

As soon as Hyunjin saw you, he started crying more, feeling guilty. But all you did was approach him, hug him, and tell him not to worry right now. First, his health was important, and then you could talk.

"Don't worry right now, Hyunnie. First, get better, okay? I love you, everything is fine," you gave him a little kiss on the head.

"Forgive me, I love you. I swear when I recover, I'll take you on a very nice date. I promise."

✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ JISUNG

Angry, frustrated, sad, humiliated— you felt like a sea of emotions. You told him how you felt, but you didn't know if it had been the best choice, or the right words, or the right moment. Maybe he was just too busy? But still, it didn't give him the right to stand you up. It wasn't the first time; if the times you went on dates were few, the times he actually made it to the dates were even fewer.

You felt tired, abandoned even. You hardly had the chance to see your boyfriend, and you knew his life was complicated. But there was always the need, the desire to spend time with him, to love him like the first time, to be loved.

Now that you had arrived home, you didn't know what to do. It was like reality had punched you. You realized you had said things that could be misinterpreted. Perhaps the last message would seem like you wanted to break up when that wasn't really the case. The words you said were spoken without much thought; you were just venting, but it wasn't the best. You were shattered. You couldn't even move from the entrance; you were crying oceans, clinging to the door. You didn't want to move; your head hurt, and you couldn't even breathe properly. At this point, you were hyperventilating. Meanwhile, your boyfriend was rushing to your apartment to find you. He didn't want things to end between you two; he loved you and was willing to make a great sacrifice for you.

He arrived in less than 10 minutes, even though your apartment was 15 minutes away. He knocked on the door with desperation, which snapped you out of your trance. However, you couldn't move; everything hurt. As you didn't answer, he became even more worried. He entered the code to the entrance and found you on the floor, in pain, struggling to breathe. He took you in his arms and tried to calm you down. After a long time, you were much calmer, just looking at your boyfriend with teary eyes.

"I don't want to break up with you. I'm sorry, Hannie," you whispered.

"Nor do I want to, my love. Please let me take care of you. I promise that from now on, I'll always be there for you. My work will never come before you. You are my priority. Forgive me, let me fix things. I love you. I'm sorry," he pleaded.

"I forgive you, my love. I love you too. Let's go back to how we were before."

✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ FELIX

You were already asleep in the room you shared with Felix. A few hours ago, you were supposed to have your wonderful date. Unfortunately, that didn't happen because your boyfriend was probably busy. Yes, you were angry, but more than that, you were disappointed and sad. You used to be a sensitive person, so these kinds of actions hurt your feelings a lot. Let's say you had to cry yourself dry to fall asleep.

Felix was on his way home, very nervous and disappointed in himself. He had forgotten about the date you were supposed to have, one of the few times you could have time for just the two of you. He suspected that you were either devastated or asleep because you weren't answering his calls or messages. They even said your phone was on silent. When he got home, he looked for you in the kitchen. He saw your dishes neatly washed, while his were still on the table. The table was decorated with flowers and a few candles. You even bought a pink wine for the occasion. He had really messed up this time.

In panic, he went to look for you in the room, praying that you were there. And yes, he saw your small figure hidden under the sheets. That made his heart squeeze tightly. Had he really hurt you? He knew you were a very sensitive person, like a porcelain doll. He had to handle you with care, and that was his favorite part—taking care of you. You were his everything. How had he been failing you so much lately? He wanted to cry right there. He wanted to leave his busy life to give all his attention to you. Slowly, he approached you and sat on the side of your bed where only your hand hung. He took it gently and caressed it. He gave you a small kiss while whispering how sorry he was, how much he felt for hurting you, for failing you. He didn't realize you had woken up, only hearing the sweet and sincere words he was dedicating to you.

You got concerned when you felt your hand wet, a sign that he was already crying. Carefully, you moved and, in a slow motion, sat on the floor with him, face to face. You took his face gently in your hands and gave him many kisses, tickling him, which made him smile.

"It's okay, Felix. I already told you that I understand that your life is difficult."

"But even if it is, that doesn't mean I can fail you. It hurts to admit that I completely forgot that we were supposed to have a date today. I know how hard you try to do things for both of us. Please, forgive me. I want to give my all for this relationship, angel. I want things to be like before when we were both so happy."

"I want that too, Lix. I forgive you, okay? For now, let's have dinner together. I left your plate on the table, but I guess the food is already cold." You got up slowly and then extended your hand towards your boyfriend.

"Thank you, beautiful. I love you more than you can imagine. Things will get better, I promise." He gave you a kiss on the cheek as you both headed to the kitchen.

✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ SEUNGMIN

You were clearly hurt, unsure how to react to what happened. Seungmin had stood you up at a restaurant, and now you had to pay for an inexpensively expensive bottle of champagne and a meal you didn't even bother to eat. Walking back home with your heels in one hand and a broken heart in the other, you didn't want to return to your shared apartment with Seungmin. But your feet and head ached, you were tired, so you stopped at a bus stop to rest for a while. You felt your eyes getting heavy, very sleepy, but you knew it wouldn't be a good idea to fall asleep on the street. It was dangerous, and you didn't want anything bad to happen. So, you called one of your friends to pick you up.

You patiently waited for your friend, and when they arrived, Seungmin called. You didn't really feel like answering, but you did it anyway.

"Where are you?" At that moment, your friend arrived in their car, so you quickly got in because you didn't want to make them wait.

"On my way home, I guess." You weren't sure if you wanted to go home, but it was the most likely option.

"What do you mean 'I guess'? Don't you want to go home?" He asked with a concerned tone.

"It's not that, Seungmin. Just a friend picked me up, and I wanted to spend some time with him. Yes, I'll go home, okay?" A somewhat annoyed tone came from your voice. You didn't want to sound like that, but you were very tired and just wanted to rest. Your friend turned to look at you, worried. You just signaled to them that everything was okay.

"Do you know what time you'll be home?" he asked worriedly.

"To be honest, I don't know. I hope before midnight."

"I'll be waiting for you here. I love you. I'm sorry, beautiful." You noticed a tone of regret in his voice.

"I love you too, Seung." You sighed tiredly one last time and ended the call.

You and your friend spent the time talking on the way to distract you from the bad experience. Despite having brought food, your friend suggested going to a fast-food restaurant and ordering something through the drive-thru, and it sounded like a good idea. So, you both had dinner in the parking lot, continued talking for a while, and decided it was time to go home. Your friend drove you back and waited for you to enter the building where you lived.

The moment you entered your apartment, you felt a heavy, sad vibe—something inexplicable. It felt completely weird because you expected Seungmin to come running to see if you had arrived safely, but none of that happened. So, you decided to go look for him. You found him in your shared bed, curled up, crying like never before, which crushed your heart. Slowly approaching him, once by his side, you started stroking his back, intending to help him calm down. However, that only made him cry more. He felt extremely guilty, but now you also felt guilty. You should have solved things earlier, but you chose to leave, making things worse than they were. You lay down next to him and hugged him, starting to comfort him, which this time worked. After a few minutes, he began to speak.

"Sorry, beautiful. I completely forgot that we were going out today, and by the time I realized, too much time had passed, and I couldn't find any way to fix it. Please forgive me. I promise I'll make it up to you." He apologized, turning around to face you.

"Of course, Minnie. I forgive you. I was just a little upset, but I know how busy your life can be. All I wanted was some time for us because lately, we haven't been able to go out like before," you said, stroking his cheek.

"I know, beautiful. But soon, I'll get some vacation, and if I don't, I'll take a few days off to be with you, my love." He hugged you tightly.

"Thank you, Minnie. I love you more than you can imagine. Forgive me too, and let's keep being happy together, okay?"

"Yes, silly. I love you much more."

✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ JEONGIN

After sending that message, you felt guilty because maybe it wasn't his fault, but it seemed like he wasn't putting in the slightest effort into your relationship. Every time something complicated happened in your relationship, it wasn't him who came to talk to you about it; it was always his coworkers. This bothered you a lot because it seemed like he was too cowardly to tell you things, either by message or face to face.

Right now, you didn't know whether to cry, get angry, or worry. You really didn't know what to do or how to act. What were you supposed to do? Wait and see if the man you love shows up, or if he's just going to back away again. These thoughts only made you more depressed. You even fell asleep while crying, so you didn't know what was happening around you at that moment.

When you woke up, you had missed numerous calls from your boyfriend, his friends, your friends—literally everyone. He had been looking for you for about an hour and a half, something that surprised you because you didn't even feel like you had fallen asleep, so you didn't notice the calls and messages they had sent you. Disoriented, you started reading messages from your friends saying that Innie had been looking for you for a while and seemed sad. When you began reading his messages, you realized you had messed up really badly. You had around 100 messages from Jeongin apologizing, asking you not to leave him, and begging to see you just to apologize properly. If you didn't want to be with him anymore, he said it was okay, but he just wanted to say goodbye properly. However, you didn't want to end it either; you only said it on a stupid impulse. He was and is the love of your life, and you didn't want things or the love between you to end. You quickly called him, praying that he would answer, and not even 3 seconds passed when a desperate Jeongin answered. You were about to speak, but he started apologizing endlessly, just saying words desperately, not even making coherent sense. He just didn't want you to hang up and say you no longer wanted to be with him. His desperation made you feel disoriented and sad, but at the same time, it frustrated you because he wouldn't let you talk. Therefore, you decided to raise your voice a bit to make him stop talking.

"Jeongin! Let me speak first, okay?"

"Yes, sorry."

"I don't want to break up with you. I know I said I couldn't take it anymore, and it's true, but I know being busy is not your fault. I just want you to communicate more with me. I don't want your friends always having to inform me. I want it to be you," you said with some emotion, finally able to express what you felt.

"Yes, love, I promise. From now on, I'll change for the better, but please don't leave me. I love you more than you can imagine. That's why from today, I'll be the person who makes you happy forever," he promised with a lump in his throat.

"If that's the case, come home now, Innie. I miss you. I want to fix things properly. I miss everything about you, please," you begged your boyfriend.

Tag list !!

@albaficaslover

@damselettism

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 4, Unwelcome - Pt. 1*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit Sexual Content - Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here - (oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV (only okay if one of you is a super solider who can't contract/spread, otherwise, wrap it before you tap it), bad jokes (should be a given at this point, really), dummies not understanding feelings.

Word Count: 2.6k

Previously On...: Bucky returned from his mission and your reunion got a little spicier than intended... not that either one of you is complaining! Deciding not to make it a one-time thing, you both agree to try a friends-with-benefits arrangement. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Yay! More smut! Aren't we all so lucky! <3 I magically managed to plow my way through writing Chapter 10 tonight, which means ya'll get Chapter 4, Part 1 a little earlier than I anticipated! I have to confess that I love the stupid banter between Bucky and Pocket. Their dumb playfulness is so #goals for me, lol. You've got a lot of fluff and such coming your way for a few chapters, meanwhile I'm at the point where I'm just writing all the angst and it is making me so sad. I subconsciously keep trying to fix it because I hate having them be at odds, but the story needs pain! And therefore I must make my babies suffer. Not right now, though. Right now is smut, smut, smut! Enjoy!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala

You sat in your office, head bent over the latest budget requests from your lab staff. You tended to be pretty generous when it came to project funding, but this $15 million request for a proposed shrink ray had to be some sort of a joke. Did they want a lawsuit from Pym Technologies? A knock on your door drew your attention away from the submission in front of you.

"Come in," you called out, putting the shrink ray proposal in your rejection pile. Bucky entered your office, flashing you a seductive smile as he closed and locked the door behind him.

Leaning back in your desk chair, you let your eyes rove over his frame as he walked toward you. He'd obviously just come from the gym, his muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat and his t-shirt clinging to his sculpted chest. The sight of him made your heart race, and you couldn't help but feel a now familiar heat building between your legs. He looked absolutely gorgeous. "You're not my GrubHub order," you teased.

"Not your GrubHub," he said, coming around to sit on the edge of your desk, "but I bet I can fill you up just as good."

You both stared at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter. "Oh my God, Barnes," you groaned, standing up and wrapping your arms around his neck. "That was absolutely awful." You kissed him, relishing the feel of his laughter against your mouth. "I can't believe I willingly let you put your dick in me, jokes like that."

Bucky's laughter faded into a heated gaze as his hands traveled up your sides, sending shivers down your spine. "Well," he whispered huskily, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear, "I'm glad you let me, because all I can think about is doing it again."

"Then it's a very good thing you locked that door," you whispered back, trying to ignore the wetness his words sent straight to your panties.

His fingers traced the outline of your jaw, his feather-light touch igniting a trail of desire along your skin. The familiar weight of his presence grounded you, drawing you closer. Together, like this, it was as if you were the only two people in the world, as if no one else existed.

"I've been thinking about you all day," Bucky confessed, his voice laced with a mixture of longing and hunger. "Couldn't focus on anything else but getting my hands on you."

"I've been right here." You took a hand and palmed him through his sweats. He was already rock hard, ready for you.

"Tease," he moaned, slotting his lips over yours again.

Your breath hitched as he kissed you, a surge of electricity coursing through your veins. The heat between you intensified with each kiss, fueling the fire that burned deep within. The taste of him was addictive, and you wondered how you had spent over a year in his company without kissing him before now.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling back from you. “I don’t have a condom. I could go get one, come back…”

You shook your head, not wanting to delay another moment. You knew the serum made him immune to catching or passing on any STIs, and you were clean. “I’m on the pill, Bucky,” you said, bringing your lips to his again. “And I wanna feel you. So fucking bad.”

“Thank God for modern fucking medicine,” he grinned.

Bucky's hands roamed over your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He expertly unbuttoned your blouse without taking his mouth from yours, revealing the soft curve of your breasts. His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

"You seem to have forgotten your bra, Pocket," he murmured before taking his mouth to your nipple, swirling his tongue around it and sucking gently. Your knees weakened at the sensation, and you gripped onto his shoulders for support.

"Mmm, Bucky," you moaned, arching your back as he switched his attention to your other breast, giving it the same lavish treatment. The wetness pooled between your thighs, leaving you aching for his touch.

He stepped back abruptly, his eyes dark with desire as he reached down to unbutton your skirt. "I've been dying to taste you," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

You eagerly stepped out of your skirt, revealing the black lace panties that barely covered your soaking slit. Bucky's gaze darkened further as he looked at you, hungrily taking in every inch of your exposed body.

"Fuck," he breathed, stepping closer to you "You wear these just for me?" You just smiled at him, biting your lower lip. You had worn them just for him, but he didn't need to know that. With one swift motion, he lifted you up and placed you on the edge of your desk. The cool wood felt delicious against your heated skin as Bucky hooked his fingers around the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs and stuffing them into the pocket of his pants.

"Thief," you chastised, but he only smirked at you as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his warm breath fanning across your slick folds as he hooked your legs over his shoulders.

You grasped the edge of the desk, your heart pounding in anticipation as he leaned forward and dipped his tongue between your swollen lips. A moan escaped you at the first touch of his velvety tongue against your throbbing clit. "Holy shit, Buck," you groaned. "Just like that."

"I knew you'd be delicious," he moaned into you.

Bucky's skilled tongue worked its magic, flicking and swirling with an expertise that sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your head fell back, exposing your neck as you surrendered yourself to the sensations he was evoking. Each lick and suck was like an electric shock to your core, building the tension coiling within you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer as he devoured you with an insatiable hunger. The intensity of his ministrations brought you to the edge faster than expected, the coil within you tightening with an urgency that demanded release. You whimpered, your moans growing louder with each pass of his tongue.

"Bucky," you panted, pulling on his hair to drag him up. "Bucky I need you. I need you right now." Your voice was desperate, your body craving the feel of his thickness inside you.

Bucky's eyes were filled with a predatory glint as he stood up, his lips glistening with the evidence of your arousal. He swiftly rid himself of his sweats, releasing his swollen, throbbing length that begged to be inside you. The air crackled with tension as he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You locked eyes with him, the intensity of your connection sparking a fire within you. "I want you inside me," you gasped, your voice filled with a desperate need.

Without any further warning, Bucky plunged into you with a force that stole your breath. The sensation of being filled by him, stretched and taken to the brink of reason, sent shock waves coursing through every nerve ending in your body. You cried out in ecstasy, the sound mingling with his own groan of pleasure.

"Jesus Christ, Pocket," he moaned, "you're so fucking tight."

He set a punishing pace, driving into you with a raw need that matched your own. The sensation of him sliding in and out of you sent sparks of delight shooting through your veins. Your hands clawed at his back, urging him to move faster, harder.

Each stroke hit that sweet spot deep within you, igniting fireworks in your body. The desk creaked beneath the force of your movements, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"Fuck," Bucky grunted, his hips slapping against yours with a primal intensity, "turn around."

He pulled out of you and flipped you, bending you over the desk before thrusting back into you from behind. The new angle allowed him to hit you deeper than before, and you could feel the tip of him kiss your cervix.

The desk continued to shake as Bucky pounded into you, the raw power behind each thrust pushing you closer to the edge of release. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your moans filling the air as ecstasy rippled through your body.

Sweat dripped down both of your bodies, glistening in the dim light of the office. The urgency between you was palpable, a desperate hunger that consumed every inch of your being. You could feel the tension building within you, coiling tighter and tighter.

"I'm...I'm so close," you managed to pant out, your voice strained with need. "Don't stop, Bucky."

He groaned in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his hips slamming against yours with an almost brutal force. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, drowning out any other noise.

Bucky's gaze bore into yours as you turned to look at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust and adoration. His grip on your hips tightened even further, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin as he pistoned in and out of you. The sensations he stoked within you built to an unbearable peak, threatening to consume you both.

With one final powerful thrust, Bucky sent you hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing as waves of bliss coursed through every fiber of your being. It was an explosion that left you breathless and trembling, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

Bucky followed suit, ropes of his spend spilling into you as he found his own release. He bent his body over yours, burying his face in the curve of your neck, his moans muffled against your skin as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing and the faint echo of your heartbeats pounding in your ears. Your bodies were entangled, sweaty and spent from the intense release that had just washed over you. Bucky's grip on your hips slowly loosened as he pulled out of you, his length slipping free with a wet sound.

ith a shaky sigh, you turned around and immediately collapsed back onto the desk, your legs trembling from the sheer euphoria that had consumed you moments ago. Bucky stood there, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were filled with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness as he looked down at you.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before moving to stand in front of you. His fingers gently brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped during your climax. You reached up, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing them to your lips for a gentle kiss.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I went a little harder than I meant to."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "No, Bucky. That was... incredible. You didn't hurt me, you made me feel amazing." You paused, looking up into his eyes, filled with genuine affection. "You always make me feel amazing."

His gaze softened, and he brushed his thumb against your cheekbone. You moved to hop down from your desk, but your knees gave out, refusing to hold you.

"Hey, I've got you," Bucky said with a laugh as he steadied you, supporting you as though you weighed nothing. He began slowly buttoning your shirt back up, then slid your skirt back up your thighs.

"I think you ruined my legs," you giggled as he planted a kiss on your navel before tucking your shirt back into your skirt.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said with a smirk as he straightened up.

You let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure you feel really bad about it," you grinned.

He leaned in close to your ear. "Not even a little bit," he whispered, as though it was a conspiratorial secret. God, just his proximity and the sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

"Looking to go for Round Two already, doll?" he asked you as he took in your physical response to him with a smug smile.

"I don't think my desk can take another go at the moment, or my legs, for that matter." You tried standing up again and were pleased to find that, though your knees were still weak, you were able to hold yourself upright. You glanced over to see Bucky watching you with a shit-eating grin. "You look a little too proud of yourself, you know."

"Tell me it's not fully deserved." He grinned at you like a mother fucking cat who had just found a saucer of cream. You rolled your eyes as you began picking up the avalanche of papers that had fallen from your desk to the floor. Bucky came around and bent over to help set your office back to rights.

Once everything was back in its proper place, you stood back to admire your work. No one would know that you'd been thoroughly railed here just a few minutes before. You watched as Bucky picked up the framed photo you kept of the two of you on your desk.

It was from your trip to the New York Botanical Gardens last winter. Bucky had confessed to you that, due to spending so much time on ice while under Hydra's control, he'd developed an intense hatred-- almost fear-- of cold weather. So, when a particularly brutal cold snap had him feeling exceptionally out of sorts, you'd taken him up to the Bronx to visit the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, where you spent the day meandering through the paths of the hothouse, surrounded by humidity and tropical plants as though you were in the middle of the rainforest. In the photo, Bucky stood next to you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, your hands hanging off of his forearm as he leaned into you and kissed your temple. Your face was scrunched up into a ridiculous smile.

"That was a great day," Bucky said, tracing the photo with a flesh finger. "I don't think I ever told you how much it meant to me, means to me, that you did that for me." His voice had dropped to something deeper, softer.

You felt something in your heart flutter at his words, the sensation new and a little frightening. The sensation made you nervous in a way you couldn't identify. "Buck," you said, swallowing thickly, "there's not much I wouldn't do for you. I hope you know that."

His crystal blue eyes bore into you as he looked at you, almost as though he was waiting for you to say something more. When you didn't, he let out a sigh and placed the photo back on your desk.

Looking back up at you, the intensity was gone from his gaze. "You hungry? I figure we must have burned enough calories to justify a big lunch." His cocky grin was back in place.

"Yeah, that sounds perfect," you said, linking your arm in his and patently ignoring the way the contact sent a swell of affection through your heart. "Let me pop into the bathroom to clean up, and then we're good to go."

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[twotimeracewinnerlandonorris]

i can't even a little bit with this fandom today.

lando norris has the most points scored after max since the austrian gp. he's been driving the wheels off the car all year, and let's not forget that the car was almost stationary throughout the first races. it truly wouldn't have mattered if he had fred flinstoned that car back in Bahrain, he wouldn't have gone any slower than he actually did. he is the fifth lowest when it comes to money that he has cost the team when it comes to crashes. he's an incredibly safe driver who knows how to handle the car. he was p2 in the sprint shootout. p2. he’s not finished. fuck off with that rhetoric.

his race pace is miles ahead of his teammate's (and that's not a jab at oscar cause unlike some fans i do not enjoy pitting these two against each other).

i have seen so many comments aimed at lando about him not "handling the pressure", how he "needs to do better", "needs to learn to not make mistakes", "needs to grow a thicker skin" and i don't even know where to begin.

first things first, he's 23 years old. that's the fourth youngest on the grid. we sometimes forget about that since he was only 19 when he debuted, and therefore we've had the pleasure of watching him race for almost five years.

lando has been very vocal about his mental health. it was horrible when he debuted in 2019. he had imposter syndrome, was incredibly hard on himself, and didn't have a lot of faith in his ability, something that he said in a press conference with sebastian vettel back in 2021. he has managed to work at his mental health, become an advocate for others and has shown great leadership in the team since he had to step up back in 2021.

there are not a lot of things that people can "use" against lando to try and make him sim like a "grid filler" or a mediocre driver. most of the time it comes down to one thing, and that's sochi 2021. that race is what people use to claim that he can't deal with pressure. but what people omit and fail to realise or just don't care about is that sochi was on the team, not on lando as a driver. he made a call to stay on the slicks because the team told him the rain would stay the same until the end of the race and then didn't update him when the forecast changed. even lewis said he would have made the same call, with the same information.

it's amazing to see, that in all the years that he's been on the grid, there's one thing that can be thrown back at him, and you really have to be stretching, or just plain stupid, to even use that.

because of this incident, people like to say that he can't handle the pressure of being an f1 driver. that's bullshit. we've seen time and time again that he can, in fact, handle pressure. it doesn't matter where it's coming from.

there are others saying that he can't handle the pressure coming from oscar since he's only really had to measure himself up against carlos as a rookie, and then dan, who was fucking shit, but again, that's bullshit. he's still miles ahead when it comes to race pace, setups and tyre management.

does he put too much pressure on himself? probably. but that's the hunger. that's what's keeping him going, keeping him motivated.

does he beat himself up too much? in my opinion, yes but that also shows that he's never satisfied and that he will keep going and won't stop until he's achieved what he's set out for himself.

sure, he now has the most points scored without a win in f1, with half the fewer races than the one in p2. can you even imagine that? lando, who has never had the fastest car in his 5 years in f1, now has 525 points in 98 races! what a fucking goat.

and you're telling me he's fifth in the "most podiums with a win" with ten podiums? imagine getting this many podiums in the mclaren he's been driving in! sure, it's gotten better after summer break, where he has scored 4 podiums, but good god, he must be an excellent driver to be able to get 6 podiums in the trashcan he was driving in 2019-2022.

lando is a lot of things, and i would say, (even if i wasn't biased and i wasn't rooting for him), that most of those things are positive.

but what you cannot say is that he isn't winning material, and isn't passionate about the sport.

and for every single person out there who loathes him because he dared win against their fave, i can promise you that there are more people who love him. he's adored and respected in the paddock itself by the people who actually matter, and he is wanted by the biggest team(s) there is because of his race craft and intelligence.

i can say with a straight face that lando norris is wdc material, and i feel sorry for you if you can't accept that.

[kirain]

oh God I hope, those ‘how dare you pick Gale?!’ anons, don’t annoy you too much or sour Astarion for you. Both are great romances and I’m glad Gale gets some love as well.

Admittedly, Astarion fans have kind of been souring his character for me, but I'm trying very hard not to let that happen. My friend and I were actually talking about this yesterday, funny enough. She's an Astarion fan, but she admits the hateful energy people have for Gale is pretty hypocritical, because everything people hate about him also blatantly applies to Astarion. The insecurity, the emotional outbursts, the trauma, the arrogance—they're literally two sides of the same coin, and liking them shouldn't be a competition.

When I first met Astarion, we didn't really vibe, but I was content with his character ... until I started getting anons and comments on Tumblr, TikTok, Twitter, and YouTube from people bashing Gale; calling him an incel, possessive, selfish, etc., and all in comparison to Astarion, for some reason. It seems like every time I write a nice comment or analysis of Gale, I'm challenged by Astarion fans who berate me for liking Gale more. Or for romancing him at all. I've received the weirdest comments, from people saying Gale supposedly abused Mystra (even though he's the victim in an unfair power dynamic) to someone telling me his grooming "isn't a big deal" because he was probably in his late teens to early twenties the first time Mystra "slept" with him. 😕

Someone even told me he's like an alcoholic who can't stop drinking, and as someone who grew up with an alcoholic father, that's both insulting and completely incorrect. You can't just walk away from an addiction after one conversation, the way Gale can. I know it's just a game and normally I enjoy a good debate, but some of the comments I've received are downright feral, to the point that I'm hit with ad hominems and accusations. I like Gale, therefore I must be a horrible person, stupid, an incel-lover, a glutton for abuse, etc.

There are entire subreddits and YouTube videos dedicated to hating on Gale, as if he's the main villain of the game or something. And even more scary, some fans have taken their discourse to the actors directly. Apparently when Tim Downie was on Neil Newbon's podcast, people in the comments were calling him an incel and telling Neil not to give him a platform. Tim is just a nerdy British guy with a wife and kids, he probably doesn't even know what an "incel" is. Luckily the mods caught most of it and banned a lot of users, but the comments were getting spammed with Gale hate.

But I'm trying not to take it out on Astarion, as I know it's not really fair for me to do so. I also know this is probably just a vocal minority of vicious fans that don't represent the community as a whole. Plus, I think Neil Newbon did an incredible job and he seems like a genuinely nice person. I don't want to hate his character, especially since I know Astarion can change. In fact, I just finished his personal quest and found his little "thank you for saving me" speech to be quite sweet and heartfelt. And thank you for your kindness. You're the first person who's told me you enjoy both characters and that you appreciate both of their romances, so that restores some of my faith. ❤

[melanieph321]

Dominik Szoboszlai x Black Reader - First Sight Part 2/8

The corner shop challenge

This story is about the night reader met her boyfriend Dominik and the series of crazy events that led up to the beginning of their love story.

Enjoy!

The conversation between you never died out. It's not like you fought to keep it alive as the two of you were walking side by side, it just refused to die.

"Okay, let me ask you a question." Dominik said, walking beside you, warming his hands in his pocket.

"Shoot."

"It's a hypothetical one."

"Yes, ask away."

"Alright, but the rule is that you must answer truthfully."

"Rules to answer a simple question? How intriguing." You smiled.

"Yes, but it's like a game. You can ask me anything afterwards, I promise to give you my sincere answer."

"Got it, just get on with it." You said, a bit excited to hear the question.

"Okay so, would you rather fuck a goat without anyone finding out, or would you rather have people believe you fucked a goat even though you didn't actually do it?"

Your steps altered, your eyes batting clueless at him. "Um...come again?"

"Like, would you rather have sex with a...."

You held up a silencing hand. "I heard what you said, I just...just why?"

He grinned. "I told you that it was a hypothetical question. It's mostly for me to get to know you better."

"Right, because asking 'Hi, what do you like to do with your life', doesn't cut it anymore?"

"It doesn't though." He chuckled. "People don't dig deep to answer those kind of questions, therefore they aren't sincere. I'm asking you to be sincere with me Y/N."

There it was again, that stupid spark. During your short walk to the corner shop you noticed that whenever your name escaped his lips your heart simply jolted. It was an amazing feeling and an annoying one at the same time.

"Fine." You sighed, allowing yourself to ponder the question.

You emerged in front of the corner shop, the question not yet answered as you stepped inside. However Dominik was patient with you, letting you take your time. Perhaps he really did want to know how your mind worked?

"I'd let people think I fucked the goat." You nodded. "How traumatizing it would be for both me and the goat if we actually did it."

Dominik nodded, just taking in your answer, not really judging you for it.

"What would you do?" You asked.

"Ah ah." He shook his head. "You can't ask me the same question I asked you."

"Why not?" You frowned.

"It's the rules of the game."

What a silly game, you thought.

"Ask me something else."

"Okay, okay."

You took a walk around the shop, thinking of interesting questions to ask. The bell above the door rang as people were coming in and out. Dominik looked conflicted of what kind of six-pack beer to choose from the many brands. Now and then his gaze lifted, glancing over to you, chuckling when he saw that you were already staring back at him. "Got a question for me yet?" He teased.

"Okay I got it." You said, leaving your aisle and joining his. "But it's more so a challenge then a question." You cleared your throat. "If that's allowed?"

"To challenge me?" Dominik's stance changed, his eyebrow twitching with his curiosity. He went from respectfully flirting with his eyes, to now leaning against the beer shelves, with a look that said, if you challenge me to go down on you, I will.

"Yes." You nodded, with your hands behind your back as not to give away your trembling hands. "I challenge you to strip naked, pop a can of beer and chug it down right here in this aisle."

"What?" He blurred out. More so surprised by the question itself then appalled by it. He was still smiling. "You want me to do what?"

"You heard me." You said, hands on your hips. You regained some of your cool following his quite hilarious reaction. "But if you're not up for the challenge Dommy, I won't force you to do anything."

"Please don't call me that." He said, kicking off his shoes.

"What? Dommy?" You tried to ignore the fact  that he was doing exactly what you asked him to do, stripping down, right there in the beer aisle of a corner shop somwhere in Liverpool.

"Yes, that." He sighed.

You chuckled. "What, you don't like my new nickname for you?"

"No, so stop calling me that before it catches on."

"I bet Trent would like it." You said, but quickly held a gasp from escaping your mouth as Dominik's hands gripped the hemn of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Your eyes widened at the sight of his hairless skin and outlined abs. He had tattoos on his arms and across his chest, one tatto running up his sleeve, the other cutting of just below his elbow. And whatever the ink on his chest meant you were here for it.

"Like what you see?" He smirked, catching you staring as his hands went to the strap of his belt. "One thing you should know about me Y/N..." He said,  removing his belt with a violent jerk. ".....I never say no to a challenge."

The air in your lungs disappeared, your heart beating fast as Dominik stripped himself of his pants, along with his underwear, leaving you to stare blankly at his dangling dick.

"Hand me that beer can will you?" He arched his back, standing proudly in the nude. He gestured for you to hand him one of the cans of beers behind your back. You did so with your eyes squeezed shut.

"What's the matter Y/N, you didn't think I'd do it, did you?"

Along with his teasing you heard the sizzling of the can of beer as he opened it. You heard him tilt it's content upside down and chug it down his throat. Although a loud burp let you know that he was finished, you refused to open your eyes until you knew that he had gotten dressed again.

"Hey, you there! Stop that!"

Your eyes flung open, only to see Dominik with panic in his eyes.

"What are you doing in my shop?"

Turning your head, you saw that an older man was charging down the aisle with a field hockey stick in his hands, looking more than keen to bash your heads in with it.

You looked to Dominik and he looked to you. "Run!" You said simultaneously. But as Dominik took off in one direction, butt naked by the way, you dropped to the floor, gathering his clothes. You then ran for your life, out of the corner shop and onto the lit streets. You and Dominik got separated as he ran out before you, but then you saw a pale figure shivering behind the nearest dumpster. It was Dominik, crouch down, covering his dick with his hands.

"Oh my god, Dominik!"

You rushed towards him, handing over his clothes, helping him get dressed.

"Fuck me." He muttered, still shivering to the point of his teeth rattling.

Suffering from terrible guilt, you did the only reasonable thing by pulling him towards you, wrapping your arms around him tightly. "I'm so sorry Dominik, so fucking sorry."

His chest vibrated when he chuckled. "Don't regret a challenge well done Y/N."

How could he be laughing and making jokes, you thought. Dominik was basically on the verge of getting pneumonia because of you.

"Shit, your still so cold." You said, feeling it rub off on you. You were still hugging him tightly, no plans of letting go until his body stopped trembling against yours.

"Don't worry, I'll warm up." He spoke against your temple, assuring you that the cold wasn't that bad. Still, you refused to let him go, at some point becoming one with his heartbeat slowly pulsating against your ear. His hand went to stroke your curls, the soothing sensation indescribable.  "You know..." He whispered. "If you wanted to see me naked you could have just said so before we left the apartment. Hey, I would've joined you for a quick shower in Sami's bathroom if you had...."

"Fucking dickhead."

Dominik couldn't help but to laughed as you pushed him off of you, breaking up the hug. The tender moment between you lasted briefly, his body having stopped shivering. He was back to himself.

"So were to next?" He asked as the two of you left the back of the corner shop.

"Well we still haven't bought any beer." You said. "Not that I'll ever recover from the sight of you chugging one down naked."

"Oh come on, don't lie." He smiled. "You loved seeing me complete your challenge. I'm surprisingly impressed how your mind works Y/N."

You lowered your head, hiding your smile.

"I say we head downtown, I know a guy that can hook us up."

"Fine." You muttered, trying not to make it obvious that you were happy that your night with Dominik wasn't over just yet. Little did you know that it was only the beginning.

[sciderman]

Yk..i feel like i would enjoy Deadpool and Wolverine more if i liked these versions of the chsracters as much as everyone else seems to. And it's not that i hate them or anything, but they're just not MY guys, Hughs Wolverine is a tall ruggedly handsome leading man who's a typical berserker, the Wolverine i am into is a short, kinda ugly feral asshole that's both the biggest badass in the room but also a weeb bookworm and an unintentional adoptive father/older brother with his dumb fucking hair and side-burns and dresses like a bisexual lumberjack/cowboy, he hates poachers and loves petting deer, and he can talk to animals making him a Disney princess too. The movies just don't give me that, it's too serious, too embarassed of itself, Logan isn't enough of an unlikeable messy asshole in the movies, he's not explosive enough, he's a very Clint Eastkwood type. And same for Wade, i like Ryans Wade well enough, but he's too clean, too marketable, too empty and dumb. I am just not into them, they're too pretty, too nice, too clean, too marketable, they're made into more typical leading types and i am not a fan.....God, sorry for that rant.

hey. i love these versions of the characters and i hated the movie. i honestly really do like movie-pool - i just hated him here. i love hugh jackman's wolverine. but this – 

i get that logan is quite a different character in the movies vs other interpretations of him, and it is downheartening that we might not ever get a more faithful to comics adaptation of logan onto the big screen but - i don't know, i'm not too sad about it because everyone always has their own version of a character in their head. my version of peter parker will never be the same as the guy on screen.

i like hugh jackman's wolverine plenty. i think hugh is great. i love his wolverine. but - this isn't even his wolverine. this wolverine is a stranger. and actually - that kind of means something. it means it's not the wolverine we've been invested in all these years, and it's not the wolverine we cried over during logan. it's not him. it's just some guy. and that's - that's not great. we don't really know this guy. i think that's the thing. the film thinks it's enough to squeeze hugh into yellow spandex and all the fans will do the heavy lifting because WOOOAAAH it's the costume we all recognise but. underneath that costume is a guy we've never seen before. never introduced to before. isn't even the guy we invested decades of films with. they're asking us to project our expectations on him, overtly. wade does it. laura does it, yadda yadda. but that's not him. it's pointedly not him. it's a blank slate in wolverine's clothing that we're meant to project our expectations on. so. you need to actually put the work in to make us care about this guy. we care about him SOLELY because of our expectations of him, based on all the familiar iconography. the suit, hugh jackman, the claws... this movie is dependant ENTIRELY on you being able to recognise things and attach meaning to them. otherwise, there's no actual substance there.

if you didn't know the yellow suit from the comics you'd probably look at it and say "that's a stupid suit" - that's it. they're just banking on you overlooking the objective stupidity of it, because you recognise it and therefore it must be important and not stupid.

i think it was a bad move to make this a different wolverine. i think it was a bad move to have this movie follow-up on the events of logan - i think it was all bad moves. it should've been our logan, of wade's era. it doesn't even make sense for this to happen after logan. logan is set after the x-men are gone. so how is colossus and negasonic and yukio there and how did wade have all those x-men shenanigans in previous movies? that's fine. who cares. no rules.

it's just maddening to me. 10000 decisions that crumble immediately under any sort of scrutiny whatsoever. can't do it. can't do it.

[eryiss]

Fraxus Week 2024 - Day 4: Shooting Stars

Description: Being half demon meant you faced certain unique struggles. Especially on a full moon. Especially during a meteorite shower. So when the two coincide, Freed can do nothing but succumb to his base urges. His urges to kiss Laxus. And maybe bite him. But mostly kiss him.

Notes: Day four. Guess who's hosting. It’s only @fuckyeahfraxus. Time for some demon Freed, and Laxus being into it. This has suggestions of NSFW stuff, so be aware. Enjoy.

Link: Ao3

Base Urges

It would be entirely good and proper, Freed thought, to storm over to Laxus and kiss him to death.

Nobody would mind, and Laxus would certainly be receptive. Most people would appreciate the show, he was fairly sure of that. Who wouldn't want to watch a demon as he finally staked his claim to what was his; especially when what was his was a six-foot-seven man made of pure muscle who exuded a raw sensuality with his very being. To see such a man made into a blushing, squirming, delectable mess would do the world good.

Freed really needed to go indoors before he did something stupid.

When you had brimstone running through your blood, you faced some issues that non-demonic entities might not expect. Greater levels of body heat. Occasional manic nightmares. Perhaps even the odd desire to set a building on fire just to see how pretty the flames were. These were all manageable, and controllable quirks. Easy to sort. Easy to quash.

Unfortunately, when you were a demon, meteorites made you randy.

That was an oversimplification. What actually happened was the overwhelming presence of magnetic stone resonated through the air at close proximity, setting the blood alight in a way that kickstarted whatever urges in the brain that started up adrenaline. The adrenaline would have no true outlet – not normally anyway – so the body searched for ways to recollect normality and convert the excess energy into something more understandable in the situation. It cycled through emotions and eventualities before, yes, settling in the groin.

All in all, perfectly scientific and therefore easy to understand. It was expected, and those with demonic blood coursing through their veins would keep take steps to mitigate the effects. Easy, doable, fine.

Except when it was also a full moon. Those complicated matters.

Something about moonlight shook up a demon, and nobody seemed to agree what exactly it was. The working theory was that refracted light contrasted against a demon's nature. The night was time for darkness; moonlight went against that law. It's said that the eyes are the windows to the soul; when a soul has darkness residing in it, shining a spotlight down on it will only bring trouble.

So, when Freed had decided to join the guild in their viewing of the meteorite shower, he really should have taken notice on how full the moon was. He hadn't, and as such, he wanted to shove Laxus into the dirt and dig his claws into him.

Laxus would look so good bleeding. Just a little. Just enough to lick off.

He looked good as he drank, too. Glancing over to him, Freed watched as Laxus brought a bottle of beer to his lips. It must have just been taken out of the cooler, because it was dripping wet, and sliding over Laxus' hands. His hands were big. Powerful. Tempting.

Then he started to drink, and the wallowing of his throat was hypnotic. A few droplets of condensation slid down from his lips, down his throat, trailing down every bump and rivulet they came across. Freed could be licking the same trail down, bringing Laxus to a fever pitch of ecstasy and sating his own needs that had been burning low and heated for months now.

He'd rip off Laxus' shirt. Then the rest of his clothes. Then he'd-

With a snap, he tore his gaze from Laxus and stared resolutely at the ground. He could handle this with decorum. He could be the figure of restraint and stoicism that so many of the people saw when they looked at him.

Rather than letting the situation overtake him, he got out of the moonlight and away from the shooting stars, walking back into the mostly vacated main room of the guildhall. The effect was fast, but not instant. The physical burning of his blood died down a little, but the lingering urge to storm over to Laxus, pin him to a tree and drop to his knees persisted. Frankly, a little voice in his head told him, that the wayward thoughts were getting ridiculous.

He still wanted to do them, though.

This would have been a lot more manageable had they not spent the last month flirting. It had started so suddenly, and so quietly, that Freed hadn't noticed. All it took was Freed to raise an eyebrow at Laxus in a slightly suggestive manner, and for Laxus to give him a little wink in return, and suddenly the dimensions of their relationship had changed. Just a wink. Admittedly, Laxus was naked at the time, holding nothing more than a flannel over his crotch as he asked if Freed had a towel he could spare.

The thing was, in that moment, Laxus hadn't been sheepish. He hadn't stumbled over his words. He hadn't been awkward. He had stood there with water dripping down him – god, what a sight – and spoke to Freed as if the situation were normal. Laxus wasn't the best at socialising on a good day, so his cool confidence in what could be an embarrassing situation spoke of a comfort he shared.

But the wink… that spoke of something more. Something exciting.

From then on, there was a shift. Neither passed up the chance to drop an innuendo on the other, their touches lingered a little longer and a littler stronger, and Laxus picked up this wonderful habit of lounging around in his boxers whenever they shared a hotel room.

And now Freed was being genetically insisted to let his logical brain take a back seat for the night, and to indulge on his base urges. To hell with decorum and propriety and good sense. He wanted this. Laxus wanted it to. What was stopping him from claiming what was his in front of everyone who mattered to him. He could stop the games they'd been playing and give them both the prize they were owed before anyone else could take it.

A little snarl tried to rip out from his throat, and he knew he needed to stop this. For heave's sake, he had no real claim on Laxus. They flirted, yes, and Laxus never flirted. Not well, anyway. But that didn't mean Laxus belonged to him. It just meant that, should Freed ask, Laxus might respond in the positive when requested to bend him over the nearest chair and-

There was a little bucket of ice chilling the drinks. He was half considering sopping up a handful of it and shoving it down the front of his boxers. That would certainly get his mind out of this spiral of stupidity.

"Hey," Laxus' voice, low and gravelly and swoon worthy cut through the silence of the room. Laxus – tall and broad and staring – walked over to Freed, placing a hand on his lower back as they leant side by side against the bar. "You snuck off."

"I needed some air," Freed said, wincing. One didn't typically go inside when they wanted air.

"Sure," Laxus nodded, not calling Freed out on the obvious lie. "You know, when you were on that mission and I had that broken ankle a month and a half ago, I spent a lot of time in the library. Did I ever tell you that?"

"No, you didn't."

The guild library had high stacks of bookshelves, and one of those rolling ladders to get up to the higher parts. What would Laxus look like tied to it, Freed wondered. Or what would Laxus do to him after he was tied to it. Laxus had a dark side that could be very alluring.

"Gramps wouldn't stop talking about this," he gestured to the patio where everyone was watching the stars fall. "He wanted me to help out with the planning. Dumbass idea. Had to get out of it. Spent days tucked away in the library and ended up reading about meteorites. Lots of books about them. Lots of theories about how they can affect people. Fascinating stuff, y'know. Just could stop reading."

Laxus dipping his toe into scholarly pursuits did not help Freed's situation. Not did the mental image of him in a tie and with glasses.

"Found out something pretty interesting about guys with a bit of devil blood in 'em," Laxus leant a little closer. "Turns out, they get pretty pent up."

Freed froze. "There's a belief that that's true."

"And of course I know what happens when you have to deal with a full moon. It's like every part of you gets heightened. So, I had to wonder what it'd be like when both of those things happened on the same night," he clicked his tongue. "Had to assume you'd be like a wild animal trying to break out of a cage. You'd hide it, but it'd be happening."

"That's… not an unfair assumption."

"Then I thought, I've been crushing on you for about a year now, and maybe it's time I sac up and do something about it," Laxus made the confession in a blasé tone, and didn't show signs of shyness. "So, the next week, when we were at a bathhouse, I pretended to forget my towel. Stood there, barely covering myself, and let you look all you wanted. And fuck did you look. Don't worry, I looked too."

"Laxus-"

"Then I spent the next month flirting my ass off. I ain't good at it, I'll admit, but I know you picked up on it and sent it back at me," He smirked a little. "So, I'm pretty sure we're both into each other. Which makes me wonder," he turned to face Freed, "why the hell haven't we started kissing yet?"

Freed blinked at him. "You want that?"

"What d'you need, some romantic confession? Come on man, you know I ain't-"

With fast movements, Freed pushed off from the bar, pivoted, and pinned Laxus to it. He grabbed Laxus by the back of his head, tugging harshly and unkindly at his hair and pulling him down. He crashed their lips together, pushing his body flush with Laxus'. Laxus' hands were tight on his waist, holding him close within an instant.

Freed was controlling the kiss entirely, setting the pace and intensity. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was domineering and angry and years in the making. Laxus deferred entirely and Freed could feel just how much he was enjoying it.

When they pulled away, Freed didn't relinquish his grip on Laxus' hair, holding him where he wanted. Laxus grinned at him. "That help with the urges?"

"Not nearly enough," Freed promised.

"Good," Laxus grinned, going in for another kiss.

Freed didn't let him, though. He stepped back, rolled out his shoulders, and whispered out a spell. His bones cracked and his muscles burned, growing and warping and correcting. Horns both gnarled and warped broke through his skull. Scales ripped out from his skin, tearing open his shirt and letting it fall in tatters to the floor. The burning of his blood reached fever pitch as he looked down at Laxus, a purr ripped from his throat.

"Look at you," Freed praised, taking a sharp claw and sliding it down Laxus' face. "So pretty."

Laxus, where other men might have shown fear at the demon before him, looked simply alive. "You ain't bad yourself."

Freed dragged his claws down Laxus' chest, ripping the shirt in four straight lines. The second Laxus glimpsed down to look, Freed was on him, crowding him into the bar and grabbing it tight, leaning down to bring Laxus into another kiss. If he was put off by the forked tongue, he didn't show it, moaning and pushing himself against Freed's demonic muscle without any space for air.

Laxus ran out of air before Freed did, and the second they broke their kiss, Freed was on Laxus' neck, giving into the urge to bite. Laxus made a yell that turned to a moan as Freed split the skin, just enough to draw out a small bit of blood. He licked it clean, savouring the taste.

He pulled back just enough to look at Laxus. He was breathing hard, bleeding, dishevelled and wanting. "You are mine," Freed proclaimed, voice warped and authoritative. "I will not renounce my claim on you. You belong to me."

"Fucking finally," Laxus grinned, still no signs of fear. Freed could almost preen at him. "You got any idea how much I spent on those fancy ass boxers trying to impress you."

Freed smirked. "A pity, then, that they'll be torn to shreds the next time I see you wearing them," he purred straight into Laxus' ear. "I don't appreciate what is mine being hidden from me."

"Ain't a fucking problem," Laxus growled back.

With a dark chuckle, Freed covered them in runes and smoke, teleporting them both from the guildhall and to his bed where, if there was any justice in the world, Laxus would not be leaving for at least a week. No. A month.

That sounded fair. A month of flirting, and of frustration, required a month of recompense. And Freed intended to be very hands on – or claws on – in getting what he was owed.

[blissfulraine]

I need fluff/funny in my life...

Maybe like imagine how guys react when Y/n not answering texts only to find out later when she arrives back to find out her phone just died due to forgetting to charge it or playing games on it too long that it died-

Enjoy writing this lmao

sorry it took legit a thousand years to reply to this one but her you go this is based off of bayveres tmnt.

warnings: grammer and spelling mistakes, and angst( mention of death).

-LEO-

he wasn't all to concerned at first with you not texting him back. your a busy person with a busy life, but its now officially 7:34pm and haven't answered a single text message from him. you haven't even read it.

starts by telling himself that you must just be busy walking or still doing things to be able to text so therefore he calls. no answer. he try's again, and still no answer

begins to start span calling and texting you, even using your emergency contact to make sure there was a ring.

mind is racing right now going to absolute worst case scenario.

did you get mugged? are you hurt? are you kidnapped?

blood runs cold at the thought of you dead in an ally way somewhere because of the foot or a random gang.

its 8pm, the time you usually get here, and yet after checking the entirty of the lair, asking around frantically if his brothers, even Splinter has seen you.

after figuring out, no, you were not there he sprints back to his room.

hes throwing on his gear, sheathing katana about to leave but halts right in his track after seeing you, confused eyes and face tilted upwards to meet his frantic gaze.

"Leo, whats wrong?"

bro drops his stuff, as the metal clatters to the floor as he reaches out to you.

your face is met with his hard plastron, heart hammering behind it.

" Y/N, i thought something happens to you, you weren't answering your texts or calls and-" he was cut off by your explanation.

"ooooooohhhhh. i'm sorry i made you worry. my phone hd died because my ( best friends name) wouldnt stop bothering me about this new hobbie they picked up."

the sigh he exhaled as he kissed the crown of your forehead seemed to trail all of that pent up anxiety with it.

"im just happy your here and safe my love."

-RAPH-

hes just working out, sweating up a storm, and thinking about you.

finally, after what felt like an hour, he finished his final rep on working out his fabulous biceps.

walking over to the bench you would always sit, he picked up his towl and whipping is face and neck in one fowl swoop.

speaking of you, weren't you meant to be here by now? you were almost always around when he was working out, even when you were running a bit late from work.

he picks up his phone, looking almost microscopic in his hands, even though it was modified just specifically for his large hands.

8pm. your (place of work) closed an hour ago.

even if you were taking the bus or metro its not that far.

did you walk? he doesn't take you to be stupid, especially with the crime wave wit gangs that have been happening recently.

then he remembers vividly the argument you two had last week; when he had been following you home and asking Donnie to check your location constantly. how you told him rather angerly that you could take care of yourself and how he scoffed.

you wouldn't put yourself in harms way just to prove him wrong would you?

that temper h was so famous for began to bubble in his chest, but an even greater feeling beat it. Fear and guilt.

as he explored the lair, in persute of trying to find you in your most frequent of locations he began thinking.

if you gut hurt out there, it would be all his fault.

looking in the kitchen and the moving his gaze to the dinning room.

the idea of you being hurt made him cringe as those feelings swelled and filled him. the pure grotesque imaginary of you trying to defend yourself from someone twice your size and being hurt in disgusting and morbid ways. maybe even being worse than just hurt.

his tooth pick snapped in half. he looked down at its broken pieces.

chucking them to the trash, not even checking if they made it he makes a dash to his room, heavy footsteps thudding as he went.

he stopped at seeing you placed on his bed plugging your phone into the charging port on his desk.

"oh hey raph," you say to him not looking up.

he runs over to you and smashes his rough lips on yours as your eyes widden in surprise. it was a hot minute before he let go.

"what was that for?" you asked breathless.

" it thought something happend to ya tiger."

you giggle, quirking a brow" i'm fine! Vern and i were talking about some business deals, and so he drove me home after work cause my stinking phone died."

next second Vern passes by the door asking whoever was in the hall where the remote went.

raph kisses you once more " love ya babe."

you give him a slight punch to the arm "love you too big red."

-DONNIE-

working in the lab as per usual, didn't actually realize what time it was till he looked over at the clock. 10:30pm.

his brows furrow, as he looked around for your presence, the couch he set up in the corner didn't seem to have you on it, just an immense amount of blankets and pillows on every surface.

he grabs his phone and texts you. no answer. he assumes your somewhere you cant text or maybe your notifications are off so he calls. again, no answer.

he told himself he would only track you in case of emergency but at this point his mind was panicking.

its so late where could she be? hes running through possible locations as he pulls up your phones GPS log. but theirs nothing showing. a slow chill runs down his spine, under his shell and through his whole body as he realizes your completely off the grids.

he checks the lair but you're nowhere to be found.

fully panicked he begins hunting for his gear and boa in his lab. it causing such a racket you wake up from your nap, as you move the blanket off your head.

"Donnie? what are you doing?" you ask sleepily rubbing under your tired eyes.

he does a full 360 turn, coming to look down at you buried fully under all the blankets. turns out you didn't add to your collection. you were the collection!

" Daring! you scared me, i thought you were still out. because you weren't answering any of my calls" he says rushing over to you an smoothing out your hair as he sat down.

you rolled your eyes at the tall dork.

" Donnie, i told you i was here when i walked in like three hours ago. my phone died and has been charging for that entire time." you finish with a wave of your hand to the desk right next to you, filled wit books, mugs ,and sure enough your phone fully off, on the charger right there.

you giggle at his face "oh." was all he could make out as you burst out laughing, kissing him on the cheek.

"your so goofy."

-MIKEY-

lazily twirling a nunchuck in one hand while reading an old comic book in the other. mikes latest trick was the ability to flip pages with his nunchucks and by gods was he ecstatic to show it to you when you got here.

he looked over at the alarm clock you got for him, an orange one with black and green stripes. it read out 8:45.

his brows furrowed and his smile drooped as his nun chucks expertly came to a halt in his grasp.

picking up his phone he texted you in the most serious manner he could, beginning to worry. it was just simply asking you where you were and when you would be down. a few minutes go by and nothing happens, you don't even read it. so he sends a few more and waits for a reply. again no answer.

he dials your number frantically, and yet after calling twice threes still no response.

refusing to let his mind wander to anywhere dark, he thinks maybe your just here?

sitting up he looked around and called out for you.

"Y/N? you here angel cakes?"

there was no answer from anyone, that was until Leonardo entered his room.

"they're not in here with you?" he asked confused. Mikey shook hsi head no, his eyes wide and panicked as he jumped up, abandoning his newfound talent.

" i thought she was out there?" she should have been her an hour ago dude!" leo nodded to his younger brother who started throwing his gear on.

"did you call her?"

"Yes dude!" he said picking up his second nunchuck from up off the floor. "i called and texted her, and she didnt respond at all!"

leo accnowleged this new information with another nod" ill go see if donnie can track her phone."

"i cant see to find her guys." Donnie states anxiously turing around to face the entire inhabitant of the lair, including Splinter whom sits in the corner silently stroking his beard.

"shes completely off the grid." everyone murmurs and turns to Leo for the next move.

"gear up guys." he says un-sheathing his katana," lets go find Y/N."

as they were all just about to run out, fully geared up they here a small voice.

"guys? where are you going? if you leave now your pizza will get cold." they turn, almost all in unison to see you holding 5 extra large pizza boxes smiling up at them.

mikey is the first to move out of the four as he reaches down placing the pizza on the nearest surface and swooping you up into a bear hug.

" BABE! OH MY GOD! we thought something happens to you and we were about to go try to find you!" you looked at him confused." what do you mean thought something append to me?"

Donnie stepped forwards, explaining how they couldn't contact you or track where your phone was.

" yea i was playing games on my phone while waiting for pizza, and it died cause it took forever."

" oh thank god your safe," mikey sighed ourt swaying back and forth.

" y/N, please tell us if your phone is going to die soon so late at night." Leonardo states heading in the direction of his room." it will save a lot unnecessary stress if we know your not hurt."

( photo of all of the turtles after realizing your not dead)

okay thats all! hope you enjoyed. now, remember to drink plenty of water, eat bot body and soul nourishing foods and get plenty of sleep. ta ta lovleys!

:)

[fanfic-scribbles]

Steeb

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Working in a coffee shop, you have heard and seen all manner of names and spellings thereof, and you’re only human– mistakes happen.

So why’s this guy gotta be such a dick about it?

Quick facts: Friendship – Steve & Reader – Nondescript Reader

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS

Words: 4218

A/N: Back on my coffee shop bullshit because the idea made me laugh :)

~

You don’t mean to do it.

It’s been a long day, you’re overworked, and so when you hear ‘Steeb,’ (you’re certain you heard it exactly like that), you write it down to the best of your ability and go on with making the drink. You’ve heard plenty of unique names during your tenure working behind the counter of a coffee shop, and been subjected to every possible way to spell even the most common ones, so you don’t even bat an eye. You simply finish making the drink, call out the name as you set it on the counter, and immediately turn to the next to keep the line moving.

After a few minutes the rush has died and the cup is still there, and a tall blond man hovers around, staring at it uncertainly. Starting to fill with dread, you go repeat the drink order in the hopes that he’ll recognize it.

“Oh, yes; that is me…” He frowns at the cup, holds it up, and squints at it some more. He looks as tired as you feel, but instead of replenishing his energy with some sugar and caffeine, he frowns at you and says, in a terse, clipped tone, “‘Steeb?’ Really?”

It has been a long fucking day and you feel a rush of anger blow through you before you tamp it down, put on the smile that you hope doesn’t look as lined with knives as it feels, and say, “I am very, very sorry sir; I must have misheard your name. Please enjoy your drink.”

He waits, opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but thankfully he just takes his drink and goes.

Good riddance.

~

A few days later you’re wiping down behind the counter after a long rush when he comes in again. He sees you, hesitates, and therefore so do you– but he approaches with a forced smile and you try to relax. He’s not anywhere near the top ten worst customers you’ve ever had to deal with; so what if he got a little snippy when you fucked up his name. Maybe he was having a bad day too. You decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh, and it’s ‘Steeeeeeve.’ ‘Steeeeeeeeeeevvve.’”

Nope. Still an asshole. The way he says it is so much like explaining his name to a small child with next to no verbal skills that you nearly grip the cup in your hand to destruction while he watches you. Through great restraint, (and the truly unfortunate need to keep paying for groceries and shelter), you plaster on a smile. “Of course,” you say placidly. His brow furrows in…concern? You wait until you turn away to roll your eyes. You’re not going to mess with food; what kind of monster does he think you are? You prepare him his drinks– but before that you write down his name. Exactly as he said it.

‘Steeeeeeeeeeevvve’ wraps at least halfway around the cup and given that he’s the only one waiting you call his name out likewise. It’s petty, and it’s definitely petty the way you take enjoyment in his annoyance as he picks up the cup and follows all the letters.

“Did I do something?” he asks.

Aside from treat me like a fucking toddler? But you can’t say that. Stupid food. Stupid rent. “Of course not sir,” you say flatly. Sometimes you can skate by pissing people off if you seem unaffected enough– some people really do believe you’re that stupid. “I’m just trying to get your name right. Exactly as you say it.”

It doesn’t seem to work on him. However, the way it doesn’t work on him means he…snorts, the corners of his lips turn briefly up, and he walks away with his drinks without lodging a complaint.

…Maybe he’s not a total asshole after all.

~

The next time he shows up, after ordering, he stares at you for a moment and then brings out his debit card and shows you the name printed on it.

At this point you do know his name (it’s not like ‘Steve’ is actually the hardest name to remember for someone who left such a negative impression on you, even if that impression was a bit of a knee-jerk) but he looks a little amused and wary, like he’s not sure how you’re going to mangle it this time.

You’re not really sure what his deal is, but you know a challenge when you see it. Still, fucking up his name on purpose feels like it violates the spirit of…whatever this thing is. However…

It’s a little slow, so you take a moment to write on the cup, trying to perfectly mimic the print of his name on the card. When his drinks are done you call out the order instead of his name, though you face the writing on the cup towards him. He walks up, his eyes zero in, and he…cracks a smile. A real smile, if a bit wobbly.

He shakes his head as you restock some cups, nods his thanks, and leaves.

You’re probably done now, but that’s a good note to leave it on, you think.

~

He comes in another time with two people– a reserved woman and a man with a bright smile. They’re both friendly and the new guy is so personable he makes you smile even after a long night of little sleep. Steve seems happy enough today and doesn’t make a fuss about his name, although the both of them watch you for a reaction as though he’s told them. They seem amused, but they all shuffle off after they pay.

Well. You would hate to disappoint.

Natasha and Sam get nice cursive. ‘Sam and Natasha’s Friend’ gets flat print.

Steve sighs heavily, Sam laughs, and Natasha grins wickedly. More customers come in and you forget about them except as a nice note on an otherwise unremarkable day.

~

You are more than willing to admit Steve is not as much a jerk as he first seemed to be. He must have been having a few bad days himself, to be so snippy, and hey, maybe names were a sore subject with him as they could be with so many others. Trying your best doesn’t mean you’re exempt from being accidentally hurtful. Being as short on patience as you were, (unfortunately, often are these days), you didn’t exactly act as well as maybe you should have either.

So when he comes in and looks a little down, you treat him with a bit more care. He orders something warm and, in your opinion, comforting. When you ask him if he wants whipped cream he shrugs, and before you can say anything else, he says his name in a very quiet voice.

When he walks away you switch out the cup for another size up, break out a special pen, write his name carefully, and go about making the best damn drink you can. The whipped cream towers on the top, you dig out some of the colorful sprinkles left over from a recent seasonal promotion, and you barely put the drink down in the pick-up window before he’s there. He smiles slightly when he sees it (that whipped cream tower is a work of art if you do say so yourself) and he carefully turns the cup around, looking for his name. When he goes a full circle he squints and looks at you.

“Keep looking,” you say and go back to the register.

He stays in the shop to drink it and tries to find his name for a bit before he gives up and gets through the whipped cream and a good portion of the drink before he’s able to hold it up and try again. He glances back at you a few times, as if to ask if you really wrote it. You nod, and he gets back to hunting. When the drink is nearly done he finally finds it– a tiny, careful scrawl just outside the edge of the artwork near the bottom of the cup. When he grins at you, you nod in approval, and he leaves in a better mood than he came in.

That’s the best outcome you can ask for, really.

~

He comes in at least once a week, most of the time, and you try to do little variations on each visit. The rainbow one with your new huge multi-colored pen goes over well. The attempt at calligraphy makes him smile. Once when you’re really rushed you scratch it out like a simple metal band logo. That gets a little laugh.

One day you’re out of ideas, and out of patience. Every customer is grating, and then there’s…

“How hard is it to remember Bill?” the man snaps.

“I’m sorry sir,” you say and try not to show how tired you are. You’re actually not responsible for this one, but you’re not going to throw your co-worker under the bus. Also, she wrote down ‘Will,’ and you’re having a hard time getting worked up over one letter that’s…basically the same name. But names are sensitive, and you’re really actually not trying to be an asshole. You wish other people knew that. “We’ll do better next time.”

He scoffs and opens his mouth, but there’s someone looming behind him that makes him turn. In a good flash of irony, Steve is the one staring down at him. Not threatening though– his face is more of a ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ frown and it is frighteningly effective. You haven’t even done anything wrong and suddenly you’re questioning your life choices.

Bill takes his coffee and leaves. Steve looks at you and asks, “Was I that bad?”

You shake your head. “I think we were both having a bad day,” you say and start wiping down the counter. Slowly, so you can take a moment for yourself. You don’t get many of those. “Thanks.”

“I’ve been told my ‘disappointed’ face can make almost anyone rethink what they’re doing,” he says.

You smile. “I started rethinking my life, and I wasn’t even the target,” you say and his smile is like a reward. “I’ll…try and find your drink,” you say and go to get to work. But there is no drink waiting and with some dread you come back to ask him what he ordered, because he is a good guy and damn it you’re going to fix this.

But he’s gone, and there’s a folded piece of paper on the counter that you grab and open.

“No coffee today,” reads the note that is signed “Steeb” and you roll your eyes, but it makes you smile.

“PS: Check the back”

You do, and find a little drawing of a coffee cup with your name scrawled in as part of the design. Spelled right of course. You’re not sure if that’s a passive aggressive dig, but honestly, you’ve had way worse.

You fold up the paper and put it away.

~

The next time Steve comes in it’s at a quiet part of the day, and he hands you a paper and presses a finger to his lips. You stare a bit too long at that but unfold the paper. Your name is decorated with cute cartoon flowers, and what follows is his order.

You roll your eyes but ring him up, and get to work.

The cup gets decorated with a quick hangman’s game, with some of the letters missing from his name and nearly a complete stick figure with several wrong letters to accompany the cartoon execution. (Naturally, ‘b’ is one of them.)

When Steve sees it…well, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile like that. “I’m going to feel bad throwing this one away,” he says, admiring it.

“Take a picture. Doesn’t leak as much,” you say, but his eyes light up and he actually does. “I was joking,” you say, a hand on your face.

“It was a good idea.” His grin is devious. “And embarrassed is a good look on you.”

“Uh huh,” you say and put your hand down. “Didn’t get enough of it your first time around?”

“This one’s better,” he says, taking your comment with the humor you intended.

“Right. Sure.” You start wiping up an invisible spot behind the counter. “Enjoy your coffee.”

“I always do,” he says and takes a long drink before he leaves.

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you smile the rest of your shift.

~

By now you’re well aware that ‘Steeb’ is Steve, is Steve Rogers, is Captain America, is…yeah. That guy. And you’re actually pretty relieved that it took you a while to figure it out. If you’d known from the start, your initial judgement probably would have been even harsher, and now you know he’s definitely not an ass.

This other guy though…

He looks (and acts) like a Jersey frat boy graduated to a tech bro and he’s been verbally harassing Steve for several minutes now, emboldened by his pack of cronies and the fact that Steve is just stoically taking it. Even the handful of people watching the proceedings are frowning or otherwise giving the douchebag dirty looks, but they seem to be following Steve’s lead and leaving well enough alone. Steve is sitting with his friends Sam (Falcon, he winked at you once holy shit) and Natasha (freaking Black Widow) and while Sam has attempted to diffuse the situation, Natasha has been quietly watching with light but focused interest that, if the guy was smart, should have made him crawl away with a thousand apologies by now.

Alas, he is a moron, and continues mouthing off.

Your manager finishes his phone call and turns the rest of his divided attention to focus on the…Situation. He’s frowning deep, but he just sighs. “He’s not doing anything I can kick him out for,” he grumbles.

“Hmm.” You look at the drink in your hand, and do a little double-take at the name before you realize you just misread it. However, that gives you an idea. “Hey. Your shift is almost through and you haven't taken a break yet.”

He looks at you suspiciously. Then he just looks tired as he takes off his apron. “Please, please don’t let them make me fire you.”

You flit one hand at him while you go to work with the other. “Written up maybe, but who gives a shit. Now go away; plausible deniability won’t manufacture itself.”

He rolls his eyes but he goes. You whip up the obnoxious group’s drinks, paying special attention to Guido Musk’s and making it as…pretty as possible.

When you’re done you put the drinks up, clear your throat, and in your best service-with-a-smile voice, call out, “Grunt!”

The talking stills, and you go on to rattle off his drink specifications, topping it all off with, “…and extra whip, for Grunt!”

He stalks over, scowling, and you brace yourself behind a docile smile as he hisses, “It’s Grant!”

You’d bet the nickel he tossed in the tip jar that that’s not actually his name, but you play along. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” you say and snatch the drink to give his name an exaggerated read-over. Your manager has just messy enough writing that the ‘a’ doesn’t quite close, so your alibi is solid. “Oh, I see, you’re completely right! I’m sorry, I misread it; that’s my bad,” you say and hand it over to him.

He's still glaring. “Who the hell gets called ‘Grunt?’”

“Sir, I’ve written cups for ‘Batman’ and ‘Spock.’” You shrug. “I don’t judge; however someone knows their order is fine.” You smile brightly at him. “Please enjoy your drink!” You then call out the rest of his friends’ orders, and go to the register to help a serendipitously-timed new customer. He pouts and hovers a little longer, but Steve is visibly more relaxed, smirking into his cup as his friends smile and stand down, and even the people who had been watching are now looking at Grant and whispering or laughing with their tablemates. So when one friend claps his shoulder and they all start to leave, he follows.

“Bye Grunt!” Sam calls out cheerfully as he passes through the door, and you duck your head behind the espresso machine as half the store laughs out loud. That is definitely going to get you a complaint, but it’s hard to be too mad about it. Once you’re composed enough not to crack you lift your head, but thankfully Grant is gone. You resolve to do everything in your power to avoid answering the phone today. …Even more than usual.

Later, it’s near close and Steve and his friends are among some of the last to leave. But he stops by the counter. “Thanks,” he says.

“For what?” you say with as much innocence as you can muster. Sam snorts and Natasha rolls her eyes, but Steve smiles. You drop the act and shrug your shoulder. “For the record,” you say, “–there is a difference between an accident, and being petty.”

Steve’s smile shifts more to one side. “Oh, I think I get it by now.” He then grins and says, “I guess it’s a good thing I never tried to use my middle name.”

You snort and shake your head. Natasha tilts hers. “Are you going to get in trouble for that?” she asks casually.

The mood drops a little. Sure, you won’t lose your job, but getting called in front of the manager –even the nice one– sucks. You shrug again, trying to keep it relaxed. “He left too fast to complain, but he might call tomorrow. We’ll see.” Steve and Sam frown deeply, like they hadn’t thought of that, and despite everything it makes you smile a little. “Relax; we’re perpetually understaffed. I’ll just get written up. It’s no big deal.”

“Still,” Steve says and looks at you with a very earnest expression that almost brings you up short. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” you say, and wince at the thought of him going up the chain and making more of a mess. You shake your head definitively. “Trust me, it’s fine. I misread a name. Happens all the time.” You give Steve a look with raised eyebrows. “Happens almost as much as mishearing a customer’s name.”

He blushes. Blushes. But before he can say anything else, Natasha hooks her arm in his, says, “Have a good night,” and leaves with him in hand and Sam following bemusedly behind.

You look around the dirty shop and sigh. Back to work.

~

After a week Grant-Grunt hasn’t come back, hasn’t called, and you’re just starting to relax when you see him walking past the window just outside. He lifts his head, you freeze, braced for the confrontation, but his eyes widen and he…bolts. Literally, actually, runs.

You blink, and suddenly jolt when one of the customers taking an easy morning is suddenly right at the counter. “Sorry; I didn’t see y–”

It’s Natasha. Smiling patiently as she holds her nearly-empty cup up for a refill. Your mouth works ineffectively to ask her how and when, but reflexively you take the cup, and then immediately check it. That’s her name, in your handwriting. You take a moment to reboot. “How do you do that?”

“Trade secret,” she replies with mild amusement. “Has he made a complaint?”

You shake your head. “Haven't heard a word.”

“Good.” Her smile grows. It’s sort of terrifying. And really hot. “The dark roast is very good today. May I have a refill?”

“Yes ma’am,” you say and immediately go to give her a whole new cup. You resolve to give her anything she asks for. And spell her name right. Every time.

~

You’re waiting for a sandwich you ordered in a busy shop when someone big bumps into you. As you’re starting to turn it is a familiar voice that starts apologizing profusely with, “I am so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Steve stops when you face him. He actually even squints a little, which makes you laugh. “Am I really that strange looking without an apron?”

He smiles. “I’ve never seen you outside of work.”

“Town is smaller than I thought,” you say and both of you just…stand there for a few seconds.

Then your number is called, and you go to get your sandwich. You come back to where Steve is, just because…well, you don’t know why. He was just surprised to see you outside of work. There’s no reason he would still want to see you. But here you are.

“Apparently I’m not that far behind you,” he says and glances around. “Are you…staying to eat?”

You bob your head, for lack of anything else to do. “I was planning on it.”

“Do you want to share a table?” he says. “It’s pretty busy in here.”

Something in you flips. “That’d be great.”

He smiles. “Yeah?” He then looks around, and points out a table in the corner. “How about there?”

“I’ll be waiting,” you say and go to claim the space. He comes over maybe just a minute later, and as you’re unwrapping your food, you admit, “I sort of wish we could get away with assigning numbers.”

“I don’t know. I’m really partial to the names,” Steve says and gives you a devious little smile over his sandwich.

“Yeah, now you are,” you say, maybe overly teasing just to make sure he gets it. Now’s a good time for a sincere apology, and though part of you rails against it for an honest mistake, you manage to quash it down and say, “I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but just to put it out there– I am sorry for screwing up your name that first time. The shop gets loud and I have seen a lot of names, and even the ‘usual’ ones sometimes get spelled differently. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.”

He ducks his head and quickly finishes the bite he’s just taken. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed malice; I just…” He looks away. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to explain, but…maybe he wants to. He looks at you again. “People get weird, sometimes, when they see me,” he says with a slight flush of embarrassment. “And it’s all ‘Cap’ this and ‘Cap’ that, so I…I just like hearing my name, you know?”

You nod. “Names are important,” you say and take a bite. He smiles slightly at your easy acceptance, and you both settle in for a nice lunch, and some good company.

~

It has been a good week, relatively, and the next time he shows up at the shop you're all set, writing ‘Steeb’ with some stars and quickly poorly drawn flags around it, but your new co-worker appears suddenly and swoops in just as you finish with the pen, spiriting the cup away and giving Steve a brilliant smile as she starts making his drink. Steve blinks, and since she can’t see your face from this angle, you give him a look begging him to put you out of your misery.

He smiles sympathetically, dumps a bigger tip in the jar, and moves away. You go pick up the forgotten pastry your co-worker had been getting for another customer, slip it in the wrapper, hand it over, and go to await your reaction just as she finishes cleaning the cup. She instinctively looks at the name as she starts to make the call, then stops suddenly and stares at you like you’re crazy. You gesture at the cup. “He’ll understand. Trust me.”

She shakes her head, then smiles brightly at Steve and chirps, “Your drink’s ready, Cap!”

You roll your eyes as Steve comes to the pick-up with a polite smile that’s definitely tinged with disappointment. But then he turns the cup to see his name, smiles a little more for real, and, despite the expression not budging an inch, tries to scowl at you. “A repeat already?” he asks with a likewise lame attempt at chiding.

“A callback,” you correct. “It’s sweet.”

“If you say so,” he says and picks up his drink. “I hope for a little more creativity next time.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” you say. You’ve been saving the katakana for a special occasion, but if he insists. Then again maybe the ‘b’ sound would be too repetitive so soon? Perhaps it’s time to practice the comic sans idea. You’ll think more about it, later. “Have a nice day, Steve.”

His real smile is so nice. “You too,” he says, with a gentle addition of your name, merely tilts his head respectfully at your co-worker, and leaves.

Said co-worker gapes. You reach around her for a rag and go to clean up some of the milk she spilled since you already know she won’t do it herself. “You have an in-joke with Captain America?” she asks, following along.

“No,” you say. “I have an in-joke with Steve.”

She blinks. “What’s the difference?” She then gets called over by the manager, huffs a put-upon sigh, and toddles off. You shrug. She probably wouldn’t get it anyway. But that’s okay. Steve does, and that’s all that matters.

[alotofteez]

Sphallolalia | Part 8

Series: ⇢ Pairing: San x fem!Reader ⇢ Genre: flirty af fluff, hints of angst, suggestive, kinda smutty, older reader (noona) ⇢ Synopsis: As your best friend’s maid of honor, you must endure the shameless best man’s flirting until after the wedding. It’s just sphallolalia… right?

Part 8: Life of the Party - Moodboard ⇢ Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, & slightly smutty ⇢ Warnings: Language, adult themes, sexual content, mentions of violence (non-descriptive), blood & wound, alcohol consumption ⇢ Word Count: 10,316

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

taglist: @joongiebug (url doesn’t exist), @simluvbot​ , @kimtae-bae (can’t be tagged?), @justsayk , @sunsethw4 , @baguette-atiny​ , @youre-a-wallflower-charlie , @knisterlicht, @nevieatiny, @laylasbunbunny 

Life feels stale over the next few days that you don’t see San. Only occasionally does it brighten when he texts you something stupid like a meme or a guess of one of your kinks. But what really lifts your mood is when he randomly checked in on you, asking how you were. It was only once, but it still made your heart flutter.

The two of you never really texted each other before the engagement. You weren’t close in any way, shape, or form. This new territory feels comfortable yet risky. If Mina found out… you don’t even know how she would react, and a part of you doesn’t really want to know. Additionally, you don’t know if San would stop if she did. You enjoy this new side of him. When he’s not hitting on you, he’s funny, kind, and caring, things you never would have described him as.

Most importantly, since your midnight excursion, San and Mingi have made up with San being reinstated as the best man. You don’t bother him about it because Mina has grilled him enough, using it as leverage when she wants him to do something. That is probably why you find Mingi and San waiting with Mina and Yoojung outside this craft store on the morning of the bachelor and bachelorette parties. The corners of San’s lips curve up when he sees you walking to the entrance.

Unfortunately, this is the only time Yoojung can assist in shopping for decoration supplies. Mina wants the wedding party to be more involved in the decisions therefore she sends you, San, and Yoojung to pick out vases for the centerpieces. You don’t know how much San will be of help, but Yoojung has a keen eye for decorating. 

When Mina and Yoojung were getting ready to leave for college, Mina basically had Yoojung pick out everything for her dorm room. It did turn out cute and cozy, kind of like an old Tumblr aesthetic that you remember fondly from high school. Then Yoojung ended up getting her degree in interior design, therefore a lot of faith is placed in Yoojung.

“Hang on. I want to look at these real quick,” Yoojung says, stopping for small gold decorative bowls, “These would match some stuff in my living room.”

San distracts himself with the items on the opposite shelves, picking up random vases and bowls.

“Aren’t there mint accents in some of the wedding decorations?” He asks you as he sets a vase back down.

Your eyes stray to the decoration he just held, and you point out, “No, but that’s teal, not mint.”

“It’s definitely mint,” he argues back.

“Mint is lighter than that.”

“No, it’s not.”

“San, the bottom layer of your hair is teal, and it almost matches that vase,” you say, gesturing to his head.

“My hair is blue. That’s mint.”

“Why are you arguing with me over this? This is irrelevant. Mina doesn’t even want ceramic vases.”

As you bicker with him, his arm swings back, accidentally grazing Yoojung’s butt. It makes her jolt and turn around. He sputters out apologies when their eyes meet.

“Buy me dinner first,” she laughs it off.

Hearing her nonchalance, the blush on his cheeks fades, and you watch him switch on his charm. He leans against the shelf in front of her with a small yet cocky grin.

“Where you wanna go?”

Yoojung is momentarily speechless before laughing even harder, “That was too smooth.”

As she takes a few bowls from the shelf, San glances at you with a satisfied smirk that you want to rip off his face.

“It’s teal,” you finish your quarrel and continue down the aisle to the clear glass vases.

Yoojung quietly corroborates what you said to San while they trail behind, and he just sighs defeatedly.

You browse through the many glass vases trying to find the perfect size. After finishing Mina’s bouquet, Mina gave you a rough idea of how big the bridesmaids’ would be. To save a little bit of money, the bridesmaids’ bouquets will be used as centerpieces for the reception tables reserved for the bridesmaids, groomsmen, and family. The rest of the tables will have slightly smaller versions, which means the vases need to accommodate the different sizes while still looking like a matching set.

The air is wordless until Yoojung finds tall, subtly-detailed clear vases in varying sizes that would look nice with sheer, blush ribbon tied around the neck. The bouquets of beige carnations, pale coral quince, chocolate cosmos, and silver brunia berries would stand out beautifully in the vases full of glass shard rocks and small string lights.

“What do you think?” Yoojung glances back at San, who is standing behind you with his arms crossed.

He shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know anything about decorating, so I guess those are good.”

“Cool, I’ll take that as an agreement. Now help us carry these.” She replies and strategically places the five larger vases in San’s arms before the two of you split the nine smaller vases to carry with you taking the extra one, “Be very careful. Mina is on edge today, and I’m not mentally prepared for her to blow up on us.”

The three of you begin cautiously walking toward the flower section where Mina and Mingi should be.

Yoojung decides to strike up a conversation with San on the slow walk, “Do you know a girl named Gahyeon?”

The name seems to ring a bell in his brain as his eyes slightly widen.

“Why?” He counters.

“She’s my friend. I showed her a picture of all of us from the engagement party, and she recognized you.”

He sighs, clearly remembering her, “What’s my Yelp rating?”

“Based on her response from seeing you, it must be pretty high.”

Yoojung walks ahead of you as San peers over at you with a smirk. His ego, at this point, is bigger than this fucking city. Of course, he has hooked up with her, and of course, it was good. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I take reservations, and only for you am I free at any time,” he winks.

“Don’t get a big head over it, though. Gahyeon’s easy to entertain,” Yoojung says over her shoulder, and you can’t help but guffaw. Still, that is rather tamed compared to the maniacal laughter you want to let out. Finally, someone else is here to knock him down a few pegs.

But, unluckily for you, your laugh was enough movement for one of the vases to slide lower against your body. Karma is most certainly a bitch.

“San, one is slipping,” you inform him in panic.

“Hang on,” he says cueing you to stop in your tracks, but before he can do anything to help, the vase falls out of your arms and shatters on the linoleum floor. His eyes catch yours tearing up. You are about to be crucified.

Mina is summoned from the aisle Yoojung turned on, voice underlined with annoyance, “What happened?”

“I tried to carry too many,” San falsely admits.

Without another word, Mina scolds him for it, and he just takes it. Yoojung creeps up behind her with the basket full of flowers, ribbons, and fabrics, and her brows furrow noticing which vase was dropped but doesn’t say anything. You place the surviving vases in the basket. 

Within moments of the drop, an employee approaches with a broom and dustpan and immediately starts sweeping the glass up. San apologizes to them repeatedly and promises to pay for the vase. When you get a chance alone, you will insist that you pay. You feel bad that it happened because you laughed at his expense.

Once the scene is cleared, Mina guides you across the store to another aisle for the next things to grab, which are tape, glue, and florist wire. San breaks away from the group to retrieve a replacement vase. It doesn’t take long to find the supplies, and that marks the end of the shopping adventure. The other girls and you double-check that you got all the materials you came here for. As Mina counts the flowers, she realizes there aren’t enough in the basket.

“We grabbed all of the cream carnations that were out. Do you think they would have more in the back?”

“That might be all of them. There would have been more out, right?” Yoojung shrugs.

Mina, unsatisfied by Yoojung’s response, whips out her phone and goes to the store’s website. In the midst of the frenzy, San returns with a vase.

“It says online that they have ten in stock, and we have nine. Can you and San go check that aisle again, in case it was misplaced? I’m going to ask an employee to check in the back,” Mina directs to you.

You nod and make sure San follows you to the back of the store again.

“We’ll be over in the ribbons section. I forgot something!” Mina calls after the two of you.

Once out of sight, you glance over at San.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you say softly, and he knows what you’re referring to.

“It’s okay. I’m used to her yelling at me.”

“Why did you take the blame?”

“I didn’t want her to be mad at you.”

You’re momentarily speechless before mumbling, “Thank you.”

The flower aisle is organized chaos. While the mess is contained to the shelves, flowers are misplaced everywhere. For a few seconds, it’s silent, allowing you to focus on the task at hand. Until you hear a couple on the next aisle talking, clearly in their own little world.

“Try it. It’s just strawberry,” the girl says.

“I don’t like smoothies,” the guy resists.

“Just taste it. It’s really good.”

“I’d rather taste it off your lips.”

It goes quiet before you hear the light smacking of spit, and you cringe. They’re in the middle of a store; have some decency. Maybe you’re just jealous you aren’t getting tongued down in a crafts store.

“That could be us, but you playin’.”

“If you so much as think about touching me, I’ll kill you,” you warn.

“You’re not killing me right now.”

The subtleness of his flirtation sends the warmth in your cheeks down to your core. The insane side of you wants to ask how he thinks about touching you. Is it playful? Casual? Intimate? Sexual? It takes several internal shouts to get your mind back on track because he could just be kidding.

You scoff and continue your search. Yet digging deeper into the giant mess of flowery shelves doesn’t distract you from falling into thoughts of San and all the ways you want him to touch you. But at least you’re being productive whilst doing so.

“Why are you just standing there? What the fuck are you doing?” You snap when you notice him leaning against the opposite shelves out of the corner of your eye.

A smirk tugs at his lips before he replies, “Respectfully checking you out.”

“‘Respectfully’ my ass.”

“That’s exactly where I was looking.”

“Help me find the flowers,” you deadpan.

“Do you think of me?” He lowly asks with that stupid smirk still on his face, and you know exactly what he’s hinting at. The absolute cocky way he asks makes you want to throat-punch him. There are far more important things to be pondering right now… even though your mind is also stuck in that same gutter. You’re not about to out yourself for allowing him to live rent-free in your head.

“Why would I?” You fire back.

“I bet you do,” he says sounding so sure of himself and resumes looking through more of the flowers, “Especially when you use that toy of yours. I don’t know how you haven’t jumped my bones yet.”

You can’t tell if this is confidence, arrogance, or just a joke.

“You might find this hard to believe, but some people have self-control.”

“Ah, so you want to.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire. You should really pay attention to how you word things.

“That’s not- I’m seconds away from stomping you out.”

“Step on me, mommy.”

As much as you want to be serious and chastise him for being so far in the gutter, his quick remark makes you crack up. 

“Stop being dumb and help me.”

A smile spreads across his face seeing you laugh.

“You’re so serious today. It’s supposed to be a fun day.”

“I just want everything to go right today. I’ve already fucked up. We need to find those flowers,” you caution.

“You do know they restock things, right?”

“I know how retail works. It’s just easier if they have everything right now.”

“Not everything has to go perfectly,” he assures you as he resumes searching shelves a few feet away from you, “I can come back up here another day if I have to.”

“But that’s just inconvenient.”

“That’s life.”

You briefly glance at him diligently digging through the bunches of flowers and leaves. The profound things he has been saying to you have you questioning who he is as a person. Though these things vary from short, vague sentences to slice-of-life stories, he hints that there is an obviously hidden side of himself. Have you been totally wrong about him this whole time? These revelations have been preceded by his insufferable flirting. Does anyone else know about-

“I want you until the last flower dies,” San interrupts your thoughts, creeping a stem into your peripheral vision. When you finally look at the flowers, you gasp, 

“Where did you find that?”

As you are caught up in the discovery, he frowns and hands over the artificial carnations without a fight.

“Did you even hear what I said?” He grumbles.

“Yes, and it was a terrible pickup line.”

“Does anything work on you?”

“Nope,” you answer as you head back down the aisle to meet up with everyone else. You don’t want to reveal the direct way to your heart just in case he’s just being an asshole. If he really wants to know, he will figure it out himself. If he finds out and is just being an asshole, at least it will have been a nuisance, and hopefully, he will realize it’s not worth it.

As you near your friends, Mina lights up at what you’re holding.

“Where did you find it?” She asks in surprise.

San’s voice follows behind you, “It was buried in some other flowers at the top of the shelves.”

“Thank god. Now, we can finally leave,” she sighs, pushing the basket to the registers.

The cashier starts ringing up the items, and Mingi watches the total get higher and higher.

“Do we really need the super realistic flowers?” He quietly asks his fiancée.

“Yeah, I don’t want our decorations looking fake and cheap. The other flowers are ugly,” Mina answers as if it should be obvious.

“I wouldn’t mind. These flowers are expensive.”

“It’s fine. My parents are paying for it.”

“I know. That’s why I feel bad.”

“They don’t care. They’ve been waiting to spoil me for my wedding.”

“I still don’t feel comfortable letting them spend this much.”

“Mingi, I promise it’s fine.”

Their argument spans the entirety of the checkout process. Discreetly, you apologize to the cashier as you take the paper sacks to leave. After putting all the crafts away in Mina’s car, everyone disburses to get ready for their respective parties.

A to-do list quickly forms in your head as you drive back to your apartment. You need to shower, do your hair and makeup, pick an outfit for the bachelorette party, put together an overnight bag, and grab anything else you might need for the party. The other day you went to an adult shop to snag a few phallic things for the celebration, such as penis straws, penis suckers, penis plates, penis napkins, a penis crown for the bride-to-be… Why the fuck did you get so many penis-themed things? Is this normal for a bachelorette party? At least you got sperm-shaped confetti to mix it up a bit.

As you shower, you think about what you would want to do for your own bachelorette party. You don’t really have the money to do a vacation-esque party, you’re not into partying or heavy drinking, and you would probably die of embarrassment if Mina showed up with these same party decorations. Maybe that’s just the overly grownup part of you taking over; you have spent so much time acting as a motherly figure to those around you. You find happiness in others having a good time, but maybe you just tell yourself that because that’s the only option you are given.

Once you’re bathed and have your hair and makeup done, you settle on a jumpsuit with a bit of a low neckline that you haven’t worn because there hasn’t been a good enough occasion. It shows off the mature side of you, which is fitting for how you feel about the night. You and Sejeong are basically babysitters for the young, wild ones. A comfy set of clothes is packed along with your other overnight essentials in a tote bag. On your way out, you snatch the paper bag of penis stuff.

Arriving just on time, you are welcomed into Mina’s apartment by the other bridesmaids. The bride-to-be is changing into her white off-the-shoulder bodycon dress. You can feel the excitement when she exits her bedroom with a huge smile as she reveals the garment for the first time. She is showered in compliments. Your eyes sting a bit from tears wanting to spring out. Mina isn’t the same little girl you knew growing up. You have to remind yourself that she is now a young woman doing adult things, no longer your baby sister playing pretend. Your heart just isn’t ready to accept that.

Before heading out the door, you all gather around Mina to take a mirror selfie to commemorate the night.

“To the vineyard!” Mina commands, ushering everyone out of her apartment to lock the door.

“Hey,” Yoojung pulls you aside while Mina is distracted with her keys, “When we get back before we start the movie, me and Kyungmi have a little surprise for Mina.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” she sings.

A million things go through your mind, but you honestly can’t guess what those two are up to. You don’t dwell on it because the conversations in the car don’t allow you to hear yourself even think, and also, whatever they have planned shouldn’t be too terrible. Yoojung and Kyungmi know Mina well enough to surprise her with something she’ll enjoy.

At the vineyard just outside the city where the hilly landscape is flourishing with hundreds of rows of grapevines, you and your friends are sat on the terrace with a beautiful view. The weather is perfect, sunny and not too hot or cold. Sitting back, you watch the girls smile and giggle over the different wines. In mom mode, you casually take a few sips of each wine so as to not get toasty. The knowledge from the sommelier is not going to stick as the girls go off on random tangents stemming from words in his information. You will make sure to leave him a well-deserved tip after dealing with the mess that is Mina’s bridal party.

Along with the group’s favorite wine, a server leaves you a charcuterie board to nibble on after the tasting. The board looks super fancy with manchego, red wine merlot cheese, blueberry white cheddar, prosciutto di parma, pita crisps, rosemary crackers, cranberry walnut bread, raspberry jam, lemon dill mayo, fresh grapes, blueberries, and strawberries. It seems like a lot of food, but splitting it between the six of you, it’s just a snack. Once the server leaves, you start pulling things onto your small plates.

“I think the waiter likes you,” Yoojung teases Kyungmi, “He poured your glass first every time.”

“He looks like he has a small dick,” Kyungmi comments, taking you by surprise with her bold statement. You take a sip of water before you choke on a crisp.

“He has big dick energy, though,” Mina refutes.

“Big dick energy isn’t going to fill my hole.”

Between laughs, Sejeong reminds you all to be quieter so that he and other customers don’t hear. It still baffles you how blunt Kyungmi, the quiet friend, can be. You pour her a glass of water, signaling it’s time to sober up a bit, but it’s only in vain.

“Why are y’all trying to get me a man? Doesn’t Y/N need one?” Kyungmi suddenly deflects.

You argue right back, “Hey, don’t drag me into this. He’s hitting on you, not me.”

“I can just tell him you think he’s cute.”

“I’m too old for him.”

You don’t actually know how old he is, but you would be surprised if he was old enough to drink what he serves.

As the other girls loudly refute your statement, you barely make out Yujin’s “yeah, you kind of are.”

You really don’t want to spiral while you are supposed to be having fun. Those intrusive thoughts about your age and where you are in life have been pushed aside for the day, but Yujin brought them back out ruthlessly. No one else seems to have heard her since no one says anything. You slide down in your chair the slightest bit. San’s words from this morning are remembered; “It’s supposed to be a fun day.”

As much as you want to let it go, his age enters the chat. You’re not ancient compared to him, but you know people would think it’s weird that you like a guy younger than you. You wonder if he just acts like he’s interested in older women to tease you. When you’re with him, age never causes an issue. He makes you feel valid and lifts you up if you’re down. Even if he doesn’t fully mean what he says, you like how he makes you feel.

“Y’all are annoying. I need to pee,” Kyungmi announces to the table before standing up.

“Don’t break the seal,” Yujin advises.

“This dam is about to break!” Kyungmi hurries off to the bathroom with a busting Mina in tow.

The other girls resume talking, and your mind strays to something else. You rarely use Instagram, but you know a certain someone, who followed you shortly after telling him you don’t get on social media anymore, might be lurking around on there. Your finger hovers over selecting the photo your group took before leaving. The jumpsuit you decided on for the night makes you feel kind of sensuous, and documenting it in a photo provides the opportunity to make someone wish he was seeing it in person. You post the picture with just the wine glass emoji and tags of your friends’ usernames.

You watch a few slow notifications come up on your lock screen; a like and comment from Seonghwa that says “so pretty ☺️,” random likes from former classmates, and a comment from a relative you haven’t talked to in a while. None of them are who you’re waiting for. Sejeong sweeps you up in a conversation about the concurrent bachelor party, and your phone falls face down in your lap.

“Where do you think the guys are going?”

“Knowing the best man, a strip club,” Yujin answers.

“Yeah, probably,” Yoojung concurs, “But I feel like Mina wouldn’t let that happen. She even told us, ‘no strippers.’”

“I don’t know how they would have gotten Seonghwa to agree to go. I can picture him sitting there not knowing where to look with his hands awkwardly placed in his lap,” Sejeong says, painting a picture in your mind that makes you laugh. It’s true though; he’s quite the gentleman.

After the return of Kyungmi and Mina, your phone vibrates that tempting text message pattern, and you are quick to check your notifications. Like a gift from the universe, there’s an Instagram like and a text from San.

From: San🖕 You look sexy in that picture 7:28 PM

Your face heats up as he does exactly what you want him to. You haven’t drank that much wine, but you think maybe your brain is making this up in a drunken daze.

From: You Thanks. How does it feel to always jack off to my pictures? 7:29 PM

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From: San🖕 I mean, probably not as good as the real thing 😏 7:31 PM

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From: You Guess you’ll never know. 7:32 PM

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From: San🖕 Bet. 7:32 PM

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From: You I’d feel bad taking money from you. 7:33 PM

You note the dots of him typing as you exact revenge for his relentless teasing. Opportunities like this are far and few between. Time to have a little fun.

From: You So… you’ve jacked off to my pictures? 7:34 PM

The three dots disappear, and you grin to yourself for rendering him speechless. The mention of your name sucks you into the discussion about the rooming situations for the lavish hotel where they decided to have the wedding.

To make the reservations, the wedding party needs to figure out who is staying at the hotel and who is rooming together. Mina’s parents volunteered to pay for all of you to stay for the night before the wedding, which is when the rehearsal will take place, and the wedding night. Though her parents live modestly, they have a lot of money, and it’s crazy to you how much they are willing to spend on their only child for a short moment in her life.

For now, Kyungmi and Yujin will share a room, Sejeong and Yoojung will share one, and you and Mina will share another. Mina knows Mingi and San will room together and thinks the groomsmen Jongho and Seonghwa will as well. Mingi’s older brother is undecided, leaving Yunho to possibly room with the other two groomsmen. If his brother stays at the hotel, he will most likely get a room with his wife.

The tasting finally concludes, and the bill is split evenly for it. Upon hearing that your visit is for Mina’s bachelorette party, the manager on hand makes the charcuterie board and additional bottle of wine complimentary. Mina orders a bottle of champagne for her and Mingi’s wedding night and two wines from the tasting to have with your takeout pizza at her apartment. You get a bottle of the strawberry wine you really liked during the tasting since you didn’t have as much as everyone else. As the waiter hands back your cards, the bride-to-be and one of her bridesmaids are whispering on the other side of the table.

“Ask him. Ask him,” Mina elbows Kyungmi, who reluctantly gives in.

“Do you have a business card for the vineyard?” She asks the server, looking up at him through her lashes and raising her eyebrows suggestively.

He grins handsomely and pulls out a card and pen before quickly jotting something down and handing it over.

“You have so much power. What the fuck,” Yoojung says in awe when he walks away.

“Alcohol, my dude.” Kyungmi finger-guns.

Grabbing all your things, you head to the grand entrance of the vineyard to leave. Yujin’s comment is still lingering in your mind, and it’s slowly starting to piss you off again. You really want to say something, but you don’t like confrontation. Like, what would you even say? She specializes in snide remarks, credit to her mother. She could probably destroy you in less than five words.

In the parking lot, Sejeong stops you from going towards the passenger side of her car and asks, “Can you drive? I’m still kind of feeling the wine.” 

The pressure to not wreck your own car is a lot, but the pressure to not wreck someone else’s car? Even worse. As long as it isn’t that person crashing because of alcohol, you will gladly take on that pressure. Throughout the tasting, you only had small sips of wine and drank mostly water so that you and Sejeong would be the sober ones to take care of the others. It’s best she doesn’t drive if she doesn’t think it’s safe.

“Yeah,” you answer, taking her keys.

As you drive back into town, the girls become talkative again. The rowdy ones in the back heckle Kyungmi to text that server while Sejeong orders pizzas for pickup.

“Play WAP to hype Kyungmi up!” Yujin shouts from the backseat.

“We are not blaring WAP in this car,” you stand your ground.

“Play Bad Girls by M.I.A.” Yoojung suggests.

Mina quickly cuts in, “Bad Girls? The baddest thing you’ve done is accidentally steal a pen from a store after signing a receipt.”

“Guys, be quiet! They can’t hear me,” Sejeong yells over their argument, hand covering the phone’s microphone.

“I need to pee!” Kyungmi whines.

“You can go in with Sejeong at the pizza place,” you assure her.

A headache is starting to form across your forehead. You wish you were less sober so you wouldn’t have to worry about everyone right now. It feels like a mistake volunteering to be one of the designated drivers, but who else would be one? Luckily, they quiet down long enough for Sejeong to place your orders.

“We should take a picture to remember tonight,” Yoojung mumbles with a slight slur and nudges Sejeong with her phone to take it.

“Everyone, look up here,” Sejeong commands with a smile and holds the phone up. You momentarily take your eyes off the road once she counts down to take the picture.

“You should send it to the guys,” Kyungmi suggests.

“No, don’t bother them,” you say, knowing you probably don’t look that good in the photo. The overhead lighting in the car is shit, your makeup is probably starting to run down your face since you put it on several hours ago, and there’s a good chance you’re not even looking into the camera.

“Send it!” Kyungmi sings from the very back with Yujin clinging to her, giggling, “Show them how hot we are and how much fun we’re having!”

Mina and Yoojung snicker behind Yoojung’s phone, which is succeeded by all your phones going off.

Chat: ✨Wedding Party✨ From: Yoojung🌱 IMG_3831 8:41 PM

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Chat: ✨Wedding Party✨ From: Yunho🐶 IMG_2475 8:43 PM

“Look at these thirst traps,” Sejeong laughs, flashing you the image from the group chat.

Yunho sent a photo of the guys in his car on the way to wherever the bachelor party is. Your eyes instantly land on San, and oh, no… He looks hot in leather with his hair pushed back. Even more of your sanity is lost. But you must compose yourself and get your eyes back on the road.

The pizzeria isn’t much further, so by the time you park you only need to wait a few minutes until your pizzas are done. Kyungmi accompanies Sejeong inside, and through the storefront windows, you watch her aggressively penguin walk to the bathroom.

To be nice, you allow Mina to plug her phone into the stereo. The first thing she plays is a Kesha song. She rolls her window down just as the chorus is about to start and leans her head out belting out the lyrics, “I’m a mother fucking woman, baby, alright!”

Yoojung quickly follows suit, “Don’t need a man to be holdin’ me too tight!”

You whip around in your seat and reprimand them, “Roll it back up, now. You’re going to get us in trouble.”

The two of them grumble as they do as they are told. They have officially lost their radio privileges. You don’t want to be a buzzkill, but someone has to keep them in line. In silence for a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking them so long in the restaurant. Before you call Sejeong to ask, you notice a text from San.

From: San🖕 Cute IMG_8533 8:56 PM

The image is a zoomed-in screenshot of your face from the picture Yoojung sent. Goddammit, you weren’t looking at the camera. He has to be messing with you because, frankly, you look kind of stupid.

From: You Shouldn’t you be busy right now? 8:58 PM

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From: San🖕 I am, by complimenting you 8:58 PM

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From: You You jack off to that one too? 8:59 PM

“What are you smirking about up there?” Mina leans forward between the front seats to peep on your messages.

As a knee-jerk reaction, you press your phone against your chest, looking guilty as hell.

“Nothing.”

Before San responds, Sejeong and Kyungmi slip back into the car, and you resume the drive to Mina’s apartment without the kids in the backseats acting up again. Once inside, you and Sejeong whip out the penis party stuff. While everyone is distracted, Kyungmi disappears. 

“Why are penises on everything?” Mina laughs, looking at the plates and napkins.

“It’s all that was in the bachelorette party section of one of those sex stores,” you inform her. Maybe you should have just gotten generic party stuff at a grocery store. The selection at grocery stores is probably just as small, but at least it wouldn’t look tacky.

When you’re ready to dig into the pizzas, Yoojung doesn’t allow you. The main living room lights go out and LED strips turn on. 

“You better not have gotten me a stripper,” Mina warns, eyes shooting each girl of the bridal party.

Mina’s bedroom door cracks ajar, revealing only a sliver of darkness.

“We’ve gotten a few noise complaints about this apartment,” Kyungmi says before kicking the door completely open, drenching her sleazy police uniform in the neon light, “For not being loud enough!”

The other girls squeal as Yoojung starts the music. Kyungmi dances her way across the room to Mina, trying to suppress her grin to stay in character. You stand in the kitchen watching the dumpster fire from afar, not really wanting to be a part of it.

“Where is the bride’s crown?” Kyungmi summons Yoojung with the penis crown you brought.

Mina dies laughing while Kyungmi places it on her head and then spins around to shake her ass to the beat of the song. The pizza is completely forgotten, and the bridesmaids are engrossed in the striptease. And, rightfully so, because Kyungmi is actually pretty good at dancing. You wonder if she is just freestyling or if she and Yoojung came up with a routine. Either way, you’re impressed.

Kyungmi goes around to give a little love to the other girls. Before she reaches the other older bridesmaid, Sejeong produces a few bills from her purse, which she makes a show of slipping them into the waistband of the micro mini skirt of the police officer costume. This causes everyone to break down in laughing tears. Kyungmi can’t even finish dancing to the song and surrenders in Sejeong’s lap.

When the regular lights are turned back on, the pizza is finally torn apart onto separate plates as more wine is poured to keep the party going

“Alright, eat your pizza so we can watch the movie,” Sejeong reins you all back in from the chaos.

Kyungmi asks with her mouth full, “Why can’t we eat while we watch it?”

“Because I don’t trust y’all to eat in the dark,” Mina answers.

“Kyungmi, why don’t you go change?” Yujin eyes the girl who just sat next to her on the couch and whose skirt doesn’t cover her cheeks on the cushions.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Kyungmi quips with a smug expression on her face.

That reminds you of someone…

As the atmosphere winds down, you glance at your phone and notice a text from that certain someone. You wish you hadn’t read it as soon as you open it. Your eyes roll out of annoyance because San is really just trying to piss you off.

From: San🖕 Why would I do that when half naked women are all around me? 9:01 PM

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From: You Isn’t it illegal to masturbate in the middle of a strip club? 9:42 PM

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From: San🖕 Yeah but that doesn’t mean I can’t be turned on. 9:43 PM

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From: You Yeah, I don’t really want to hear about that. 9:45 PM

Though you have never been to a strip club, it feels kind of early for the fun to start. Additionally, no one has really confirmed where the guys went for the bachelor party. You don’t think Mina would allow them to go to a strip club, and if it was suggested, she definitely would have complained to you about it.

From: San🖕 I can see you up there dancing. 9:52 PM

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From: You That would never happen. 9:53 PM

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From: San🖕 I’d want a private show, though. 9:55 PM

You glance up from your phone, debating to ask Mina. When there’s a lull in the conversation, you take your chance.

“Hey, what are the guys doing for the bachelor party?”

“They went to some adult laser tag bar place,” Mina says, trying to think of the name of the bar.

“They went to play drunk laser tag? That doesn’t sound safe,” Sejeong comments.

“I know. Mingi isn’t the most coordinated, so I told him if he comes back with a black eye, he’ll be in trouble.”

The rest of the conversation goes on in the background as you call San out on his bullshit.

From: You Mina said you aren’t even at a strip club… 10:01 PM

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From: San🖕 lol you asked her? Were you that worried that we were? I just wanted to see your reaction, but I wouldn’t say no to a private show 😏 10:05 PM

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From: You I would. 10:05 PM

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From: San🖕 I’d love to see you slowly dance out of your clothes down to some sexy lingerie, grinding down on me. 10:08 PM

You don’t know about the stripping part, but you are definitely imagining grinding on him, legs straddling his lap. His hands would slide up your thighs to your hips and guide your movements as you impatiently find the friction you so desperately want. He would tilt his head back, his face twisting in pleasure. Your nails would dig into his shoulders where you balance yourself. He would swear under his breath and praise you for how well you’re doing. His fingers would thread through your hair and-

“Y/N?”

You hum in response as you fall hard back down to earth from your wet daydream.

“You wanna change clothes before we start the movie?” Sejeong asks as she picks up empty plates.

“Oh, yeah,” you mumble and head to the bathroom with the bag you packed.

Once in comfy clothes, you claim the armchair in Mina’s living room, too afraid of someone accidentally catching a rogue text from San. At this point, there is no telling what he will send you, especially since he is currently high on flustering you. You wouldn’t mind those types of messages right now. There is some alcohol in your system from the wine you just had, and San has planted a seed of sin in your mind. A bit of flirtatious texting isn’t going to cause any serious damage, right?

That is your mindset until you notice a sobering text from a little while ago.

From: Seonghwa😇 What are you texting San about? 10:11 PM

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From: You How do you know I’m texting him? 10:17 PM

You return to your conversation with San. He has no idea the image he painted in your mind with that singular sentence. But because Seonghwa is aware of your texting, the flirting can’t go any further.

From: You You really have no shame. 10:18 PM

With that final text to San, you force yourself to ignore the vibrations of your phone as Mina figures out how to login into a streaming service on her smart TV. Your heart is palpitating from the adrenaline caused by both men’s texts and needs a few good minutes to calm down. But after the third alert, you give in.

From: Seonghwa😇 I can see your name every time his phone lights up on the table… 10:19 PM

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From: Seonghwa😇 Is he bothering you? I’ll tell him to stop. 10:21 PM

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From: You No, it’s fine. I can handle him on my own. 10:22 PM

You switch over to the conversation with San.

From: San🖕 😘 10:20 PM

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From: San🖕 👉👌 10:20 PM

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From: You 🍆  🏌️‍♀️ 10:23 PM

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From: San🖕 lmao 10:24 PM

The movie Bridesmaids starts in the background, and you try to pull your attention to the television. Mina plops down between Yoojung and Sejeong, snuggling in under a blanket. Not even 60 seconds later, your phone goes off again.

From: San🖕 Seonghwa just told me to stop texting you lmao 10:25 PM

What the hell, Seonghwa? As you think of a response, Mina calls you out.

“Phone away, Y/N.”

A subtle pout is on your lips while you place your phone face down on the armrest. Tonight is about Mina, not San, no matter how thirsty that man makes you. Have fun with your best friend while she is single and still has time to do this. It is girls’ night out, no boys allowed.

With the amount of times you have seen this film, you should be able to recite the script as easily as the alphabet. But it has been a few years since the last time you watched it. There are certain aspects you remember.

The main character Annie is seeing a man her friends don’t approve of, and she knows it’s not a relationship she actually wants. She’s jealous of her best friend because her friend is doing what she wants to be doing; Annie feels stuck not being able to fulfill the societal norms of adulthood. It all hits way too close to home.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re not like that,” Mina comments at one point.

Though you are not, you understand why Annie is acting that way. Jealousy can make you do crazy things. Her closest friendship is threatened, she can’t maintain a stable romantic relationship while her best friend is settling down, and her relationship with herself is clouded by the expectations others have of her. Her way of coping is the only problem… and that’s the only difference between you. You fear bothering, annoying, and angering anyone important to you, therefore you don’t lash out like Annie… or maybe you just haven’t reached your breaking point yet.

Just before the credits start rolling you finally look at your phone and note two text messages, one from one of your employees and one from San. Because it isn’t normal for your employee to text you this late, you tap on hers first.

From: Sammy🛍 Hey, I just got a call about a family emergency and have to go out of town. Can you pick up my shift tomorrow? 10:28 PM

A lamp in the corner is turned on as Mina and Sejeong stand to stretch. The other girls are fast asleep on the floor and loveseat couch. You grab a few empty cups and creep into the kitchen to put everything away.

“One of my assistant managers texted me during the movie and asked if I could cover her shift in the morning,” you quietly groan to your friends as you assure Sammy that you will, “I’m not mentally prepared for that.”

“Do you need to go home?” Mina questions with concern.

“Not yet. I’ll finish helping clean up,” you say as she looks down at her vibrating phone.

“Mingi wants me to meet him and San at his apartment as soon as possible,” Mina says after reading the text.

Your heart begins pounding in your chest at the mention of San’s name.

“Did he say why?” Sejeong asks, half-absorbed in rinsing out wine glasses.

“No, and he’s not replying, so he must be driving. I can’t drive since I just had wine.”

“I’ll take you,” you immediately offer, grabbing your overnight bag. You only had one glass when you returned, and that was before the movie started. Plus, you will take this chance to see San, maybe even smack him around a bit for trying to rile you up.

“Are you sure? Don’t you need to go to bed?” Mina looks guilty.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t want you driving even if you think you can make it over there.”

“I can take her,” Sejeong tries to relieve you of the burden.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just drop her back off when we’re done and then go home.”

“Okay, I’ll stay here in case they wake up,” she says, following you two to the door.

As you head down to your car, you finally check San’s text from over an hour ago.

From: San🖕 Y/N? 10:33 PM

Fuck, he probably thinks you’re ignoring him now, and you don’t have time to respond as you need to hurry over to his apartment. Endless possibilities of what could be Mingi’s emergency run through your mind. The lack of response from him worries you, but you don’t bring that up for fear of panicking Mina. It could be something that isn’t an actual emergency.

As you roll up to Mingi and San’s apartment, Mina points out the pair walking to the building’s entrance. San looks like he’s holding his head which is fairly concerning considering where they have been all night. Mina and you get out quickly and rush to catch up.

“What happened?” You ask as soon as you see the bloody paper towels San is pressing to his brow bone.

“You want to tell them?” San looks to Mingi, who subtly shakes his head.

“I accidentally scared him, and he threw his laser gun at me.”

“This is exactly why I said this was a bad idea,” Mina immediately reprimands them, “Let’s get up to the apartment so that we can look at it.”

“Technically speaking, you said you didn’t want me getting hurt,” Mingi levels with his fiancee.

The look she gives him silences him the rest of the way up. Once inside, San turns around a dining room chair and sits, looking at you and Mina expectantly. Knowing Mina isn’t good with blood, you take charge.

“Do you have a first aid kit or something?” You look between the boys, and Mingi hurries to retrieve it from their bathroom.

Mina hovers behind you, simmering, “Why didn’t the bar help you?”

“They said they were out of bandages, and then they told us to go to a hospital,” San answers while making himself comfortable in the chair.

“Why didn’t you go to one?” You ask, confused and annoyed by the situation.

“I am not going to a hospital over a little cut. I’m not a baby.”

Your eyebrow shoots up at the absurdity coming out of his mouth.

“Maybe a kiss will make it better,” he still manages to hit on you.

You glare at him unimpressed and ask, “Really?”

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” he contends, “Or get you in the mood. Whatever works.”

“Shut up,” you say as you grab his wrist and pry away the tissues stuck to his injury to check the damage.

“Ow, that fucking hurt!” He shouts, pressing the tissues against the cut once again.

“Here. Give me your finger. I’ll give you something else to cry about,” she quips with her hand out and eyes on fire, just as her fiancé comes back with a plastic box.

“Babe, it wasn’t his fault,” Mingi says with a sliver of panic in his voice.

“Now, his face is going to be fucked up for the wedding,” she yells.

“Yeah, it’s definitely going to leave a scar. The hair might not grow back for a while,” you reenter the conversation as you dig through the bandaids until you find the right one, “It might not be too noticeable by the wedding. San, move the paper towel.”

“Why is there so much blood?” Mina sounds frenzied looking at the tissues.

“He’s had alcohol,” you remind her while you disinfect his wound with a dab of a cotton ball doused with hydrogen peroxide. He winces and groans at the stinging sensation.

“I can’t watch. I might pass out,” she says as she goes to sit on their couch.

His eyebrow is split but not enough to need stitches, at least in your opinion. After peeling the backing off of the bandaid, you gently touch around the cut.

“I’m putting a butterfly bandage on it. I have to pinch the skin back together, so it might hurt,” you warn him, and before he can respond you squeeze it closed. 

He hisses at the pain, trying not to jerk away, “Hurry up. Jesus Christ.”

His hands naturally hold onto your waist, his fingers digging into you, channeling his discomfort to its source. One side of the bandage is in place, and you attempt to align the skin accurately. 

“I’ll take my sweet time.”

He groans in misery and annoyance, “Sadism.”

Your face feels like it’s burning. You can’t believe he is bringing up your stupid midnight conversation from several nights ago.

“Shut up.”

When you finally secure the bandaid, he opens his eye and blinks a few times.

“Does it look badass?”

“You look stupid,” Mina deadpans, quite obviously not over the fact she was right about someone getting hurt. She moves from the couch to look at your bandaging work now that the blood isn’t everywhere.

“He always looks like that though,” you joke as San defends himself.

“I didn’t even do it!”

“Be still,” you demand, placing a small square of gauze over the butterfly bandage and taping it down with surgical tape.

“At least I didn’t knock him out,” Mingi chuckles.

“You didn’t hit me hard enough for that.”

“I bet I could though.”

“Why are men like this?” Mina quietly comments to you as you step out of San’s personal space.

San folds his arms across his chest and lounges back in the chair. “No, but I could definitely knock you out.”

“That’s not fair. You’ve had practice.”

“Practice?” Mina echos.

“It was one time,” San downplays.

“What happened?” You ask, bewilderedly looking between the two boys.

Mingi is quick and proud to answer, “Some dude put his hand up one of our friends’ skirts. San confronted him and ended up decking him in the face.”

“That’s surprising,” you say with raised eyebrows and notice San’s face sour, “That you would hit someone.”

His expression softens at your addition. “That was a few years ago. It was a young and dumb decision.”

“It wasn’t dumb. Fuck that guy,” Mingi says, and Mina smacks his arm, telling him to watch his mouth.

As the couple begins arguing over who should stop swearing, you awkwardly start shuffling everything back into the kit, and San wordlessly helps.

But after a moment, he sighs, “I have a meeting in the morning, and of course, this happens.”

“I have work in the morning too.”

“You should stay the night in case I need a nurse.”

You glance at him after closing the little first aid box, “I’m not a nurse.”

“You could dress up as one, and I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“I’m not playing into your role-play kink.”

“I’ll mark that one off the list then.”

Your eyes roll back into your head when you realize what he’s joking about again, and you could almost die from exasperation. Then you realize something else.

“Wait, you have a meeting on a weekend?”

“Yeah, it’s an emergency meeting because someone messed up a report with a client.”

Before you can ask if it’s for that nursing home, Mingi suddenly slaps a hand on San’s shoulder and asks, “Did you keep that napkin the bartender wrote her number on?”

Your eyes dart to San. You want to interrogate him about what he did with her number in retaliation to how he acted when that pizzeria guy gave you his number. You want to be petty, take the napkin from him, and set it on fire in front of him. But you can’t do anything because Mina and Mingi don’t know about that night, that you hung out together, that San showed a protective, borderline-possessive side of himself. San notices the flames inside your eyes and grabs the tissues he once held against his eyebrow.

“I guess I can’t call her now,” he says, unraveling the dried bloody napkin, the inked number lost in the dark crimson red. The little smirk on his face is telling of how he feels seeing you physically snap into jealousy. Calling her was never in his plans.

Fuck this, you need sleep.

“As much fun as this has been, I need to go,” you announce before directing your attention to Mina, “Do you need me to take you home?”

“No, Mingi will,” she says, and he confusedly complains.

“I can send you a medical nude in the morning, so you can see how it’s doing,” San offers with a grin.

“What the hell?” Mina questions with a hint of disbelief, “Why would you be nude?”

“I’d take the bandage off,” he quips.

Mina steps towards him, but you hold her back with your arm.

“Get smart with me again, and I’ll break your nose,” she warns.

“We’ll laugh about this one day,” Mingi sighs hopefully. San glares at him while Mina starts in about how she will never laugh about their incident and that it isn’t funny because San’s face will look busted for the wedding.

You take that as your cue to leave. The day has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and you are absolutely exhausted. When your head finally hits your pillow, you are out. Getting up the next morning for work is agonizing. You plan to spend your time in your small office, so you don’t have to deal with people. You have had enough human interactions within the last 24 hours.

But before you leave home, your phone lights up with a call from San. What could he possibly want right now?

“Hey,” he says as soon as you answer, “It kept bleeding through the gauze, so we went to the ER last night. They had to put in a stitch or two.”

Your heartbeat picks up a bit. You feel bad for being annoyed by his call, even though he has no idea that you were. 

“Did they give you anything for the pain?” You ask, making sure to speak in a soft voice.

“They just told me to take over-the-counter pain meds every six hours if needed.”

“Is it feeling any better?”

“It’s a lot sorer now that the bruising is showing up. I can’t show any emotion without being in pain.”

A small chuckle huffs out your nose before concealing your amusement. “Do you need me to bring you anything?”

There’s a short pause before he mumbles, “No.”

Did you just make him shy?

He clears his throat and continues, “Did you tell Seonghwa to tell me to stop texting you last night?”

Oh, fuck. You have hoped to avoid this confrontation.

“No? He asked me why I was texting you and then said he would tell you to stop. I told him he didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh.” The word is barely audible.

“Why?”

“You never responded after I told you he did that.”

“I got yelled at for using my phone during the movie, and right after the movie, we came over. I didn’t get the chance to respond.”

“Oh.” This time the word is louder, more confident.

You pull away from your phone to check the time. You can spare a few more minutes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you anything? I have time before I go to work.”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

A feminine voice speaks his name in the background, and your heart falls into the pit of your stomach. He must have a girl over since he is insistent that you not stop by. He must have called you with a girl in his bed just to taunt you. Did he end up calling that bartender? He really knows how to make you not stand him. Anger fills your chest, and you try to keep it from overflowing out of your mouth.

“You seem busy. I’ll let you go,” you say tersely.

“No, it’s fine. I’m on a break.”

Oh, so it’s a quicky?

“I have work. Bye,” you mumble before ending the call.

This crush is getting out of hand. You are constantly in need of a reminder.

He’s not yours.

He is not yours.

He. Is. Not. Yours.

HE. IS. NOT. YOURS.

Those words repeat in your mind like a mantra, plaguing your time at work. When your brain strays to that phone call and the woman’s voice, you mentally slap yourself. But, god, do you feel stupid, liking a man who will never like you in the same way.

After work, you order your favorite takeout to comfort yourself, and once you have consumed it, you still feel that little emptiness that San will never fill. In the shower, you can’t stop thinking about that woman and how naive you are. Moving your pity party to your bedroom, you feel your phone vibrate in your hand.

From: San🖕 Are you home? 9:26 PM

-

From: You Yeah, why? 9:27 PM

Suddenly, you panic that he might be at your door. You are currently naked in a towel, and your apartment isn’t the cleanest right now. It would be embarrassing for him to walk in and think “You live like this?”

From: You You’re not here again, are you? 9:27 PM

Your screen lights up with a video call from San. That’s better than him being physically here, but you still feel a little alarmed. Now, you just have to angle your camera away from the 500 empty cups on your nightstand and the pile of clothes you have been too lazy to put away…

“Why are you video-calling me?” You ask the moment his face appears after accepting the call.

“I thought you might want to see the stitches,” he says, bringing the camera closer for a better view.

“Oh, shit. He got you pretty good.”

The cut looks bigger than you remember, or maybe that’s because part of his eyebrow was shaved off at the hospital.

“Someone at work asked me what happened, and I told him he should see the other guy,��� he jokes as he studies the injury on his screen.

“Really?” You shoot him a look through the camera.

He shrugs, “They don’t need to know the real story.”

“Hang on. I’m changing into my pajamas.” You lay your phone on your sheets and head to your dresser to quickly slip on your flannel button-down and pants.

You can hear San quickly exhale through his nose before he says suggestively with what you know is a smirk, “Since this conversation is show and tell…”

“… I’m hanging up now,” you announce as you pick up your phone again, fully clothed. You settle down in bed, sitting up against the headboard.

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, “How was the girls’ party?”

“It was good. The wine tasting was nice. But dealing with all of them drunk is like herding cats.”

He chuckles, “Sweet little Mina was a handful?”

“Her and Kyungmi were absolute chaos. The amount of times I heard ‘shark coochie’ yesterday was more than my entire life up until yesterday.”

“Shark coochie?”

“We had a charcuterie board at the vineyard.”

You watch it register in his head before he cracks up, a hand coming up to cover his cute grin. 

“Anyways… How was the guys’ party before you got beat up?”

“It was fun. There was another group of guys at the bar, and they wanted to play against us. We went a couple of rounds before we got more drinks. Then during that last game, I came around a corner and scared the shit out of Mingi.”

“You were warned it was a bad idea. Was it worth that?”

“Absolutely,” he stands by his decision, “I just hate that my eyebrow took all damn night. I was so tired this morning when I went to the office.”

Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach.

“You didn’t have the meeting online?”

He shakes his head, “No, but it wasn’t a super long meeting, so I came back home and slept for a while.”

That woman must have been a coworker. God, you are such an idiot. Even still, he is not yours. Sadly, your brain recalls his words, “Can’t let them get attached.” You really need to chill before he thinks you are getting attached. 

Not wanting to waste any more time on that, you change the topic, “I just remembered something. How much was that vase I broke?”

“Why?”

“I want to pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll find out how much it was and leave that money somewhere in your apartment so that you find it later thinking you left it there.”

“You will never leave my sight in my apartment again.”

“You’re not going to watch me use the toilet,” you contend.

“Fine, but if I find money in the bathroom, I’ll know it was you and give it back.”

“I won’t accept it.”

“Then I’ll hide it somewhere in your apartment.”

Your hand drops to your bed, his view now the ceiling, as you groan, “You’re so annoying!”

His adorable little giggles fill your room and warm your heart. 

Why can’t he be yours?

[taffywabbit]

ok story time let's go

(i guess CW// religious baggage? vaguely cult-y stuff? Mormons?)

so i was laughing at that (presumably bait) tweet that got screenshotted and reposted on here, with the person claiming that y'all is a problematic term used by "bigoted southerners" and someone else dunking on them, because I'm Canadian and I say y'all ALL the time. and like, that by itself wouldn't be too notable - there ARE rural areas of Canada, particularly over in Alberta/Saskatchewan, where the local accent and slang have convergently evolved into something very similar to Texas (and I DID actually grow up in a town like that, though i never picked up the accent myself).

what makes my adoption of y'all particularly odd is that I picked it up in the Caribbean of all places. if you are familiar with my Not-So-Secret Tragic Backstory then you MIGHT know where this is going already.

I was raised in a Mormon family, so when I was 18 i was basically required to go do the missionary thing with the white shirts and ties and nametags. (this is very funny considering my current status as a gay trans furry artist and leftist, but this story isn't really about that.) I got assigned a random location in the world, and was shipped off to the Eastern Caribbean for 2 years. it was very hot and sweaty and overall not a very good time for me, the world's blondest palest scrawniest teen who would have to walk around all day every day in office attire.

ANYWAYS a few months after my mission began, we got a new mission president (the old guy assigned by the church to be in charge of all the missionaries in a region, along with his wife). while he was generally a pretty jovial friendly guy, he also had an occasional tendency to powertrip and institute random arbitrary rule changes whenever he felt that the missionaries weren't performing as well as he'd like and the numbers were down. with missionaries, there's a huge focus on "exact obedience" and "consecration" - this idea that the more single-mindedly devoted you are to Doing Missionary Stuff and Thinking About Jesus and Never Having A Single Fucking Independent Thought In Your Head Or Taking Care Of Your Personal Wellbeing Or Enjoying Yourself, the more god will bless you with like. charisma superpowers or something. to just change people's minds on the spot as you blast them with your Conversion Beam. and therefore anytime that ISN'T happening (y'know, because people have free will, and also because being Mormon is wildly unappealing to any reasonable outsider), it clearly MUST be because those darn young punk missionaries are probably thinking too much about their partners back home or drawing Pokemon fanart or collecting distractingly colourful neckties. can't have that!

so with all that context, I can finally get to the point, which is that one day our mission president decided the reason nobody was knocking on our apartment door begging to get baptized was probably because we, as missionaries, were too casual in our interactions with one another. specifically, he took issue with missionaries calling each other "dude" or "bro" or "man", or referring to each other collectively as "you guys". he insisted that this was "eroding the dignity of our sacred calling as missionaries" and that we should instead strive to call each other "Elder" and "Sister" (the titles used for male and female missionaries respectively) as much as humanly possible.

specifically as an alternative to "you guys", he suggested we start saying "Elders and Sisters" every time we addressed a mixed group of missionaries. which OBVIOUSLY sounds really fucking stupid. and I was in a leadership position at the time, so I had to deliver instruction/training to the missionaries in my area every week AND call them to check-in every night. being a missionary and constantly being commanded to do incredibly stupid arbitrary things really brought out my latent rebellious streak, and there was NO fucking way I was going to say "Elders and Sisters" if i could avoid it - the only people who actually complied with the new rule were immediately identifiable as goody-two-shoes and suck-ups and everyone wanted to push them into the ocean.

so INSTEAD, i and several other missionaries quickly realized that we could simply get away with saying "you all" or just plural "you" with like, a hand gesture to show we meant the group. which naturally just evolved into y'all pretty quickly because it's an incredibly natural contraction of words and it just feels good to say. and the mission president never complained about it, because we weren't using cool youngster slang like "guys" or "dudes" and instead it just sounded like a fun twangy rural affectation. and then i just kinda kept saying it for the rest of my mission, and continued saying it after i returned home and went off to college in the city and all that jazz.

...absolutely no clue where I picked up saying "howdy" all the time tho. i don't have an excuse or backstory for that one lol, it's just fun to say

[rjalker]

More paragraph breaks added by me because the originals go on for several pages if left alone.

almost 4k words long

@thenixkat I think you'd enjoy this one if you haven't read it yet

The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was

A certain father had two sons, the elder of who was smart and sensible, and could do everything, but the younger was stupid and could neither learn nor understand anything, and when people saw him they said: ‘There’s a fellow who will give his father some trouble!’

When anything had to be done, it was always the elder who was forced to do it; but if his father bade him fetch anything when it was late, or in the night-time, and the way led through the churchyard, or any other dismal place, he answered: ‘Oh, no father, I’ll not go there, it makes me shudder!’ for he was afraid. Or when stories were told by the fire at night which made the flesh creep, the listeners sometimes said: ‘Oh, it makes us shudder!’

The younger sat in a corner and listened with the rest of them, and could not imagine what they could mean. ‘They are always saying: “It makes me shudder, it makes me shudder!” It does not make me shudder,’ thought he. ‘That, too, must be an art of which I understand nothing!’

Now it came to pass that his father said to him one day: ‘Hearken to me, you fellow in the corner there, you are growing tall and strong, and you too must learn something by which you can earn your bread. Look how your brother works, but you do not even earn your salt.’

‘Well, father,’ he replied, ‘I am quite willing to learn something—indeed, if it could but be managed, I should like to learn how to shudder. I don’t understand that at all yet.’

The elder brother smiled when he heard that, and thought to himself: ‘Goodness, what a blockhead that brother of mine is! He will never be good for anything as long as he lives! He who wants to be a sickle must bend himself betimes.’

The father sighed, and answered him: ‘You shall soon learn what it is to shudder, but you will not earn your bread by that.’

Soon after this the sexton came to the house on a visit, and the father bewailed his trouble, and told him how his younger son was so backward in every respect that he knew nothing and learnt nothing. ‘Just think,’ said he, ‘when I asked him how he was going to earn his bread, he actually wanted to learn to shudder.’

‘If that be all,’ replied the sexton, ‘he can learn that with me. Send him to me, and I will soon polish him.’ The father was glad to do it, for he thought: ‘It will train the boy a little.’

The sexton therefore took him into his house, and he had to ring the church bell. After a day or two, the sexton awoke him at midnight, and bade him arise and go up into the church tower and ring the bell. ‘You shall soon learn what shuddering is,’ thought he, and secretly went there before him; and when the boy was at the top of the tower and turned round, and was just going to take hold of the bell rope, he saw a white figure standing on the stairs opposite the sounding hole. ‘Who is there?’ cried he, but the figure made no reply, and did not move or stir. ‘Give an answer,’ cried the boy, ‘or take yourself off, you have no business here at night.’

The sexton, however, remained standing motionless that the boy might think he was a ghost. The boy cried a second time: ‘What do you want here?—speak if you are an honest fellow, or I will throw you down the steps!’

The sexton thought: ‘He can’t mean to be as bad as his words,’ uttered no sound and stood as if he were made of stone. Then the boy called to him for the third time, and as that was also to no purpose, he ran against him and pushed the ghost down the stairs, so that it fell down the ten steps and remained lying there in a corner. Thereupon he rang the bell, went home, and without saying a word went to bed, and fell asleep.

The sexton’s wife waited a long time for her husband, but he did not come back. At length she became uneasy, and wakened the boy, and asked: ‘Do you know where my husband is? He climbed up the tower before you did.’

‘No, I don’t know,’ replied the boy, ‘but someone was standing by the sounding hole on the other side of the steps, and as he would neither give an answer nor go away, I took him for a scoundrel, and threw him downstairs. Just go there and you will see if it was he. I should be sorry if it were.’

The woman ran away and found her husband, who was lying moaning in the corner, and had broken his leg.

She carried him down, and then with loud screams she hastened to the boy’s father, ‘Your boy,’ cried she, ‘has been the cause of a great misfortune! He has thrown my husband down the steps so that he broke his leg. Take the good-for-nothing fellow out of our house.’

The father was terrified, and ran thither and scolded the boy. ‘What wicked tricks are these?’ said he. ‘The devil must have put them into your head.’

‘Father,’ he replied, ‘do listen to me. I am quite innocent. He was standing there by night like one intent on doing evil. I did not know who it was, and I entreated him three times either to speak or to go away.’

‘Ah,’ said the father, ‘I have nothing but unhappiness with you. Go out of my sight. I will see you no more.’

‘Yes, father, right willingly, wait only until it is day. Then will I go forth and learn how to shudder, and then I shall, at any rate, understand one art which will support me.’

‘Learn what you will,’ spoke the father, ‘it is all the same to me. Here are fifty talers for you. Take these and go into the wide world, and tell no one from whence you come, and who is your father, for I have reason to be ashamed of you.’

‘Yes, father, it shall be as you will. If you desire nothing more than that, I can easily keep it in mind.’

When the day dawned, therefore, the boy put his fifty talers into his pocket, and went forth on the great highway, and continually said to himself: ‘If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!’

Then a man approached who heard this conversation which the youth was holding with himself, and when they had walked a little farther to where they could see the gallows, the man said to him: ‘Look, there is the tree where seven men have married the ropemaker’s daughter, and are now learning how to fly. Sit down beneath it, and wait till night comes, and you will soon learn how to shudder.’

‘If that is all that is wanted,’ answered the youth, ‘it is easily done; but if I learn how to shudder as fast as that, you shall have my fifty talers. Just come back to me early in the morning.’

Then the youth went to the gallows, sat down beneath it, and waited till evening came. And as he was cold, he lighted himself a fire, but at midnight the wind blew so sharply that in spite of his fire, he could not get warm. And as the wind knocked the hanged men against each other, and they moved backwards and forwards, he thought to himself: ‘If you shiver below by the fire, how those up above must freeze and suffer!’

And as he felt pity for them, he raised the ladder, and climbed up, unbound one of them after the other, and brought down all seven.

Then he stoked the fire, blew it, and set them all round it to warm themselves. But they sat there and did not stir, and the fire caught their clothes. So he said: ‘Take care, or I will hang you up again.’ The dead men, however, did not hear, but were quite silent, and let their rags go on burning. At this he grew angry, and said: ‘If you will not take care, I cannot help you, I will not be burnt with you,’ and he hung them up again each in his turn.

Then he sat down by his fire and fell asleep, and the next morning the man came to him and wanted to have the fifty talers, and said: ‘Well do you know how to shudder?’

‘No,’ answered he, ‘how should I know? Those fellows up there did not open their mouths, and were so stupid that they let the few old rags which they had on their bodies get burnt.’

Then the man saw that he would not get the fifty talers that day, and went away saying: ‘Such a youth has never come my way before.’

The youth likewise went his way, and once more began to mutter to himself: ‘Ah, if I could but shudder! Ah, if I could but shudder!’

A waggoner who was striding behind him heard this and asked: ‘Who are you?’

‘I don’t know,’ answered the youth.

Then the waggoner asked: ‘From whence do you come?’

‘I know not.’

‘Who is your father?’

‘That I may not tell you.’

‘What is it that you are always muttering between your teeth?’

‘Ah,’ replied the youth, ‘I do so wish I could shudder, but no one can teach me how.’

‘Enough of your foolish chatter,’ said the waggoner. ‘Come, go with me, I will see about a place for you.’

The youth went with the waggoner, and in the evening they arrived at an inn where they wished to pass the night. Then at the entrance of the parlour the youth again said quite loudly: ‘If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!’

The host who heard this, laughed and said: ‘If that is your desire, there ought to be a good opportunity for you here.’

'Ah, be silent,’ said the hostess, ‘so many prying persons have already lost their lives, it would be a pity and a shame if such beautiful eyes as these should never see the daylight again.’

But the youth said: ‘However difficult it may be, I will learn it. For this purpose indeed have I journeyed forth.’ He let the host have no rest, until the latter told him, that not far from thence stood a haunted castle where anyone could very easily learn what shuddering was, if he would but watch in it for three nights.

The king had promised that he who would venture should have his daughter to wife, and she was the most beautiful maiden the sun shone on. Likewise in the castle lay great treasures, which were guarded by evil spirits, and these treasures would then be freed, and would make a poor man rich enough.

Already many men had gone into the castle, but as yet none had come out again.

Then the youth went next morning to the king, and said: ‘If it be allowed, I will willingly watch three nights in the haunted castle.’

The king looked at him, and as the youth pleased him, he said: ‘You may ask for three things to take into the castle with you, but they must be things without life.’

Then he answered: ‘Then I ask for a fire, a turning lathe, and a cutting-board with the knife.’

The king had these things carried into the castle for him during the day. When night was drawing near, the youth went up and made himself a bright fire in one of the rooms, placed the cutting-board and knife beside it, and seated himself by the turning-lathe. ‘Ah, if I could but shudder!’ said he, ‘but I shall not learn it here either.’

Towards midnight he was about to poke his fire, and as he was blowing it, something cried suddenly from one corner: ‘Au, miau! how cold we are!’

‘You fools!’ cried he, ‘what are you crying about? If you are cold, come and take a seat by the fire and warm yourselves.’ And when he had said that, two great black cats came with one tremendous leap and sat down on each side of him, and looked savagely at him with their fiery eyes.

After a short time, when they had warmed themselves, they said: ‘Comrade, shall we have a game of cards?’

‘Why not?’ he replied, ‘but just show me your paws.’ Then they stretched out their claws. ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘what long nails you have! Wait, I must first cut them for you.’

Thereupon he seized them by the throats, put them on the cutting-board and screwed their feet fast. ‘I have looked at your fingers,’ said he, ‘and my fancy for card-playing has gone,’ and he struck them dead and threw them out into the water.

But when he had made away with these two, and was about to sit down again by his fire, out from every hole and corner came black cats and black dogs with red-hot chains, and more and more of them came until he could no longer move, and they yelled horribly, and got on his fire, pulled it to pieces, and tried to put it out.

He watched them for a while quietly, but at last when they were going too far, he seized his cutting-knife, and cried: ‘Away with you, vermin,’ and began to cut them down.

Some of them ran away, the others he killed, and threw out into the fish-pond. When he came back he fanned the embers of his fire again and warmed himself. And as he thus sat, his eyes would keep open no longer, and he felt a desire to sleep. Then he looked round and saw a great bed in the corner. ‘That is the very thing for me,’ said he, and got into it.

When he was just going to shut his eyes, however, the bed began to move of its own accord, and went over the whole of the castle. ‘That’s right,’ said he, ‘but go faster.’ Then the bed rolled on as if six horses were harnessed to it, up and down, over thresholds and stairs, but suddenly hop, hop, it turned over upside down, and lay on him like a mountain.

But he threw quilts and pillows up in the air, got out and said: ‘Now anyone who likes, may drive,’ and lay down by his fire, and slept till it was day.

In the morning the king came, and when he saw him lying there on the ground, he thought the evil spirits had killed him and he was dead. Then said he: ‘After all it is a pity,—for so handsome a man.’

The youth heard it, got up, and said: ‘It has not come to that yet.’ Then the king was astonished, but very glad, and asked how he had fared.

‘Very well indeed,’ answered he; ‘one night is past, the two others will pass likewise.’

Then he went to the innkeeper, who opened his eyes very wide, and said: ‘I never expected to see you alive again! Have you learnt how to shudder yet?’

‘No,’ said he, ‘it is all in vain. If someone would but tell me!’

The second night he again went up into the old castle, sat down by the fire, and once more began his old song: ‘If I could but shudder!’

When midnight came, an uproar and noise of tumbling about was heard; at first it was low, but it grew louder and louder. Then it was quiet for a while, and at length with a loud scream, half a man came down the chimney and fell before him. ‘Hullo!’ cried he, ‘another half belongs to this. This is not enough!’ Then the uproar began again, there was a roaring and howling, and the other half fell down likewise. ‘Wait,’ said he, ‘I will just stoke up the fire a little for you.’

When he had done that and looked round again, the two pieces were joined together, and a hideous man was sitting in his place. ‘That is no part of our bargain,’ said the youth, ‘the bench is mine.’ The man wanted to push him away; the youth, however, would not allow that, but thrust him off with all his strength, and seated himself again in his own place.

Then still more men fell down, one after the other; they brought nine dead men’s legs and two skulls, and set them up and played at nine-pins with them.

The youth also wanted to play and said: ‘Listen you, can I join you?’

‘Yes, if you have any money.’

‘Money enough,’ replied he, ‘but your balls are not quite round.’ Then he took the skulls and put them in the lathe and turned them till they were round. ‘There, now they will roll better!’ said he.

‘Hurrah! now we’ll have fun!’

He played with them and lost some of his money, but when it struck twelve, everything vanished from his sight. He lay down and quietly fell asleep.

Next morning the king came to inquire after him. ‘How has it fared with you this time?’ asked he.

‘I have been playing at nine-pins,’ he answered, ‘and have lost a couple of farthings.’

‘Have you not shuddered then?’

‘What?’ said he, ‘I have had a wonderful time! If I did but know what it was to shudder!’

The third night he sat down again on his bench and said quite sadly: ‘If I could but shudder.’

When it grew late, six tall men came in and brought a coffin. Then he said: ‘Ha, ha, that is certainly my little cousin, who died only a few days ago,’ and he beckoned with his finger, and cried: ‘Come, little cousin, come.’ They placed the coffin on the ground, but he went to it and took the lid off, and a dead man lay therein.

He felt his face, but it was cold as ice. ‘Wait,’ said he, ‘I will warm you a little,’ and went to the fire and warmed his hand and laid it on the dead man’s face, but he remained cold. Then he took him out, and sat down by the fire and laid him on his breast and rubbed his arms that the blood might circulate again.

As this also did no good, he thought to himself: ‘When two people lie in bed together, they warm each other,’ and carried him to the bed, covered him over and lay down by him. After a short time the dead man became warm too, and began to move. Then said the youth, ‘See, little cousin, have I not warmed you?’

The dead man, however, got up and cried: ‘Now will I strangle you.’

‘What!’ said he, ‘is that the way you thank me? You shall at once go into your coffin again,’ and he took him up, threw him into it, and shut the lid. Then came the six men and carried him away again. ‘I cannot manage to shudder,’ said he. ‘I shall never learn it here as long as I live.’

Then a man entered who was taller than all others, and looked terrible. He was old, however, and had a long white beard.

‘You wretch,’ cried he, ‘you shall soon learn what it is to shudder, for you shall die.’

‘Not so fast,’ replied the youth. ‘If I am to die, I shall have to have a say in it.’

‘I will soon seize you,’ said the fiend.

‘Softly, softly, do not talk so big. I am as strong as you are, and perhaps even stronger.’

‘We shall see,’ said the old man. ‘If you are stronger, I will let you go—come, we will try.’

Then he led him by dark passages to a smith’s forge, took an axe, and with one blow struck an anvil into the ground.

‘I can do better than that,’ said the youth, and went to the other anvil. The old man placed himself near and wanted to look on, and his white beard hung down. Then the youth seized the axe, split the anvil with one blow, and in it caught the old man’s beard. ‘Now I have you,’ said the youth. ‘Now it is your turn to die.’

Then he seized an iron bar and beat the old man till he moaned and entreated him to stop, when he would give him great riches. The youth drew out the axe and let him go. The old man led him back into the castle, and in a cellar showed him three chests full of gold. ‘Of these,’ said he, ‘one part is for the poor, the other for the king, the third yours.’

In the meantime it struck twelve, and the spirit disappeared, so that the youth stood in darkness. ‘I shall still be able to find my way out,’ said he, and felt about, found the way into the room, and slept there by his fire.

Next morning the king came and said: ‘Now you must have learnt what shuddering is?’

‘No,’ he answered; ‘what can it be? My dead cousin was here, and a bearded man came and showed me a great deal of money down below, but no one told me what it was to shudder.’

‘Then,’ said the king, ‘you have saved the castle, and shall marry my daughter.’

‘That is all very well,’ said he, ‘but still I do not know what it is to shudder!’

Then the gold was brought up and the wedding celebrated; but howsoever much the young king loved his wife, and however happy he was, he still said always: ‘If I could but shudder—if I could but shudder.’ And this at last angered her.

Her waiting-maid said: ‘I will find a cure for him; he shall soon learn what it is to shudder.’ She went out to the stream which flowed through the garden, and had a whole bucketful of gudgeons brought to her.

At night when the young king was sleeping, his wife was to draw the clothes off him and empty the bucket full of cold water with the gudgeons in it over him, so that the little fishes would sprawl about him.

Then he woke up and cried: ‘Oh, what makes me shudder so?—what makes me shudder so, dear wife? Ah! now I know what it is to shudder!’

[nuttyspacecactus]

So these are Paranormal MM Romance Urban Fantasy books by Fel Fern. I think someone must have recommended Venom because this isn't something I read normally. I don't care for romance and the covers are actually a turn off in many ways.

The dudes on the cover are bear shape shifters I mean get rid of the abs and add some body hair. It makes no sense to me how realistic the models are, but the characters in the book do have abs(maybe no body hair either). I mean I find a spectrum of guys attractive, but not gonna be sexually interested in them unless there is a connection. Demisexual issues...

I believe Fel is a woman and I can tell that by the first book. Venom is in the first and he isn't how most gay dudes would write him. Venom is a hot bear shifter that should be coming off Daddy AF. This means he is a stocky build with thick muscular arms and chest, plenty of body hair, and a belly. I don't see most gay dudes getting off on the character and I may be taking the bear too literally... Come on though... A gay bear shifter.

I dove headfirst into the first book, instantly devoured the second, and now I am starting on the third. They are pretty good despite my hang ups. There isn't much sickly romance and the sex is at a minimum; therefore, it works for me as well as the story being interesting. The first one reminds me of Twilight in some ways that most probably wouldn't understand... My mind is weird and makes connections when most people are like WTF.

There is one aspect of some of the characters that is weird AF and it's covered more in the final chapters. I mean I was laughing at the end of the first book because of the ridiculousness. Now I have gotten used to it and just gloss over it. I still think it's stupid AF, but it works for this fictional world where more people are gay than straight.

I have a free trial period of Kindle Unlimited, so I didn't have to pay for any of the books. The stories are good though in my opinion. I will be stopping at the third book, so I can move on to other stuff I want to dive into. These books have made me realize that I actually enjoy paranormal fiction. I knew I did because I read a few Sookie Stackhouse books and Soulless by Gail Carriger. I just didn't understand till now the extent that I enjoyed these books.

I feel like I enjoy books set in this world with magic and mystery. It gives me hope that beyond the shadows is something more than just going to work everyday for someone else. Hope that our world isn't this sterilized husk of its former self that has lost all of its magic. I do enjoy technology, but I feel like it isn't all good. My dream would be to have a Jupiter sized Earth that has magic, steampunk, Victorian era, and such. More of a utopia in some ways that people are loved and accepted.

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 67 - folding laundry (I actually need to fold laundry right now, but I can take notes and quote the transcript while doing that T.T)

"But she was so beautiful. She, she was tall, with long, straight, auburn hair and these eyes that, when they looked at you, it didn’t feel like she was seeing you so much as was trapping you." - Why does this kinda sound like Eric speaking of Mary? Except, that Agnes wasn't malevolent…

"I was drawn to her in a way I can’t even explain." - Sooo, do we know if Jack was influenced by the Web? I never got that whole Agnes arc, I know a lot of people like her a lot, but to me it was always "meh" and my brain therefore doesn't memorize episodes about her and/or her connection to Gertrude or the Web. (note after I'm done with the episode - That's exactly what I mean, I just can't recall details of this arc. The answer actually is in this very episode and my brain just skips over it. But, as I also have already said in one of my asks, I'm kinda blind on the Spider eye.)

"a large cup of black coffee with enough room for milk. She never actually put any milk in it. She never even drank it. She’d just take it over and sit there, staring out the window into the street for an hour or so." - Agnes being normal! :D

"The way she always used to order the coffee, it always sounded like she was enjoying it. The order, I mean. Like the phrase “one black coffee with room for milk” was a delightfully novel thing for her to say." - Agnes being so normal! :D

"Deliah had been ranting at me about how impossible it was to get a decent woman’s Halloween costume that didn’t, as she put it, show a mile of skin. I was making some weak joke about going as a bedsheet ghost, and telling everyone it was sexy because the ghost was technically naked" - lol, I never gave this any attention xD

"She was a short Asian woman, with close-cropped hair and a thick, muscular frame." - Jude! I actually have no memory either about what their conversation could have been about…

"And then I asked her out on a date. I don’t know how it happened, it just tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it."- Again, is he controlled by the Web? (note after I'm done with the episode - in the next bullet point I'll finally get it! ^^''')

"I looked up and noticed within the corner of the room, where there had been a spider���s web this morning" - Okay, he was controlled by the Web… Funny thing is, I actually remember that there was a spider web in this statement. But just not the connection to it.

"I asked her what she wanted to do, and she looked at me like I was stupid. We were going to walk in the park, she said. Like it was the only possible thing to do." - Agnes being normal again! :D

"She asked me if I had a destiny." / "She looked at me, with the same sadness I’d seen on her face before. “That must be nice,” she said and went back to staring into the sunset." - Generally I think the tragedy of her entire existence is really interesting. I mean Jon later also talks about her when he rambles about his own becoming. Two people destined to be a messiah of some sort and neither of them ever wanted it.

"We even went to see a film. I remember it was The Prestige" - I love btw how Jonny drops all kinds of other fiction into TMA. The Prestige is great btw, if anyone's thinking about watching it, do it!

"She said something about a tree falling, and that they had to finish something." - So what was the tree's significance actually? Why did she have to hang herself on that day?

"One of them, a big guy with a shaved head, was holding an unlit lantern" / "Another held a bag that seemed to be full of candles, while a third had a clear plastic container filled with hundreds of tiny spiders." - I'm completely at a loss here about those items. As I said, I can't remember a thing about the Web and Gertrude and what they did to Agnes.

"I lost almost everything after that." - Ahhh, there we have typical Desolation shenanigans.

"Even after everything the police told me about her death, and the hand, I, I don’t know if I would have had it in me to resist. I just couldn’t avoid being drawn in, like a moth to the flame." - Yep, it was never up to you… That's rough, buddy…

Oh wow, the music is cut a bit abruptly when the statement ends.

ELIAS "You told me you wandered around in the dark for hours at a time, shortly after suffering an incredibly traumatic experience." JON "So you’re saying I imagined it." - Yeah, how does it feel to sit on the other side of the table, Jon?

JON "So either give me the key, or find a new Archivist." ELIAS "Oh, good lord, don’t be so dramatic, John. You know how hard it would be to replace you." JON "I, I don’t actually? But… thank you, I suppose." - Not so easy finding someone marked by the Web and alive, eh?

That tunnel adventure next time's gonna be so much fun!

Hmmm jack being influenced by the Web is something I've never considered before... Interesting... To what end? Agnes' end? Hmmm

Also cheers to Agnes being normal :D

[arwen17]

RE: Bailey School Kids discussion part 2

@aurorasilverthorne

I'm wondering if vampires can or will eat regular food in tiny doses since Madame Hauntly drinks a strawberry doodlegum shake in "Vampire Trouble". Grandpa Vamps also mentions being on an all liquid diet in "Mrs. Jeepers' Creepy Christmas". Maybe tomato juice is just Mrs. Jeepers' personal preference when not drinking blood? I'm assuming Mrs. Jeepers or the human cook was in charge of the Romanian menu else wise they would've dined on some super strange food dishes.

Really good point! I remember thinking that was really strange! I kept thinking she must have glamoured the wait staff when she ordered her shake and got them to put blood in it instead, when the kids weren't looking lol.

It just depends on the vampire story if vampires can consume human food or not. Many times they can, even though it doesn't do anything for them at all. But they're still able to enjoy the taste. Other stories have the food taste totally repulsive to them, though they can force it down, and still others have them puke up anything they attempt to eat that isn't human blood. So it varies a lot. If Mrs.Jeepers family has some human blood or other types of monster blood in them, maybe that makes it possible for them to consume other stuff too. Not being pure vampire may mean they don't have to consume a pure vampire menu at all times.

Boris could be goofing around by naming his foods odd things just to feed the kids' belief that he and the rest of his family are indeed monsters while also letting the kids know that they're not a threat to humans as there's never any human flesh or blood on the Hauntlys' menu. I'd be worried about Mrs. Jeepers if I were one of her school kids and all I ever saw her eat or drink was tomato juice. I'd bring her snacks just to see if she'd eat them.

hahaha!! I love this! And it would explain why Carrie could drink it and be just fine. The only time they ever offered Mrs.Jeepers any food is when Eddie offered that ancient cookie in the Leprechauns Don't Play Fetch and she was like "thanks" and dropped it in her purse LOL. I would say most people would have been disgusted by that, but she lives in a VERY dusty house, so it probably was pretty normal for her lol. What I don't get is why none of the adults ever comment or offer Mrs.Jeepers something else. She just sips her tomato juice all the time and nobody comments or notices except the kids and they never say anything directly to her about it. Not even a comment of "Wow, you must really like the taste of tomatoes. You're always drinking that stuff." lol

Side Note: WHY do these vampires prefer to live in dusty, broken houses? I don't get it. Ancestral dirt to sleep in I understand! But not caring about cleaning? Or deliberately making a brand-new home dusty like Hauntly Manor Inn? What the hell? I always have to mark that trait off as a stupid thing they did so it felt "Halloween" enough for the kid readers. Weirdo food aside, there's no reason to want to live in filth.

Boris did eat meat and bread while Justine Hauntly and Mrs. Jeepers ate cheese in "Mrs. Jeepers' Batty Vacation". I'm guessing they can eat regular food if they want, but only do so when they are around humans to throw off suspicion if others start questioning them about their dietary choices.

You're right. I had to reread that scene, but Boris was dipping black bread into red sauce and Justine and Mrs. Jeepers were dipping cheese into the red sauce. They also ate pieces of red meat, which suggests under-cooked meat with plenty of blood left in it. But none of them touched the garlic noodles the kids were eating. I'm assuming that's because they had garlic in them, which we know Mrs.Jeepers has allergies to. But WHY did they make those noodles garlic? I don't get it. Why would you feed those kids something you're allergic to? Will eating garlic make the kids smell bad and therefore the vampires in the family will find it easier to NOT drink from them? Or is this some kind of secret protection against neighboring vampire families like that Vlad person Edwardo fought?