#both are emotionally charged and soul-crushing

[daddy-long-legssss]

'A Certain Romance' 🤝 ‘Leave Before The Lights Come On'

[dr3c0mix]

Heyo! Hope you're doing alright! Firstly, sorry if this is too long... summary: yan oc reactions to male/gn reader with a high pain tolerance whose platonic affection language is rough housing (biting , headbutts, body slams/shoulder bumps, aggressive bear hugs, or a good grip/squeeze. All of these forms of affection are done by reader with as much force as is allowed without actual damage and which reader happily reciprocates). Bonus, what're the reactions of rough housing intolerant yans when said reader starts trying to find someone else as an outlet for this affection need. Context: I saw the mini react to the affectionate chair wielding and had a thought. I am a very energetic and affectionate individual with folks I'm close with, and often times a gentle hug or soft touch just isn't enough to get across the energy and emotion or i just NEED something more grounding/comforting cause "yes this gentle hug is comforting my stress a little but i really REALLY need you to crush my soul and being back together with this next hug. Really trash compactor my body so i can feel whole again :) 💪". It's what i grew up with and what some of my friends encouraged/reciprocated (have definitely popped backs when giving each other hugs and once i popped someone's fingers when i was allowed a good squeeze). When soft affections aren't hitting right (and i have permission from my friend) I tend to turn to play bites (at whatever maximum safe pressure is allowed by the person being bitten), headbutts, body slams/shoulder bumps (again, at a maximum safe force that is allowed), and harsh grips/hugs (again, whatever maximum safe force is allowed). It's really a grounding/comforting thing cause it allows me and my friend to destress, release energy, and also kinda reassures us that we're truly physically and emotionally there. It's definitely not something for all my friend circles and i usually turn to my high energy friend circles that have similar needs (and they come to me if they feel the urge as well). A good example is the time Friend A saw me out and about, shouted out my name and charged me full speed from 30 feet away. I tanked the brunt of their full body affectionate tackle and honestly? Was one of the happiest and closest i felt to my friend. Haven't done that in a while cause we got warned not to do that again by personnel lol. We usually try to meet up at parks (cause indoor places understandably don't like when a group of adults start rough housing) though it's hard to rn cause of the heat and stuff

OCs w/ a Rowdy Darling

My OCs x GN Reader

THIS IS LITERALLY AMAZING !! you seem like a really cool person to hang out with ! id definitely let you give me a back popping hug >w< not sure if im strong enough to give you a hug as strong as that though hehe ^^" anyways heres the fic ! (´ ∀ ` *)

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Adrian is literally the same as you. Every shove or punch or rough housing is a sign of affection.

You two probably rough house all the time ngl, and he loves it!

You're his energetic little lover and he's all for it!

You two might have gone to detention for rough housing to hard a few times hehe..

If you bear hug him, he'll try to hug you harder, it's like a competition to him!

Honestly, he sees everything as a competition. You push him playfully? He'll push you harder.. headbutts? You might get a slight headache after he's done..

He might be your boyfriend, but he's still a bit of a bully, but it's all in good fun! He stops if ever he notices you're getting uncomfy.

Not a biter though, but when you do it, he melts like putty!

He loves how strong and rowdy you are and that you're not afraid to express it, it shows how tough and confident you are!

He likes his gentle moments once in a while, but being able to love you in a love language you both share is so special to him <3

"Cmon babe! One more hug! I can take it!"

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Brandon is kind of impressed..

He's one of the best football players in his school and his little darling is biting and shoving and headbutting him, so adorable!

You remind him of a little goat, so excited and happy and lively!

Definitely makes him more protective of you because of how precious you are to him.

If you get to rowdy for his liking, he grabs you and traps you in a bear hug until you calm down or if you give him an even tighter bear hug than the one he's giving you.

Invites you to play a bit of football with him and his team.

But protection is key! He wraps you in all sorts of gear before you play, he knows how high your pain tolerance is but he still wants to keep you safe! and also he likes seeing you wear his helmet

Your body slams are praised not just by him but by his team, it's too cute!

If he catches you being your little rowdy self around anyone else, he'll get jealous fast..

He shoves you affectionately to get your attention.

"Heya baby! How's my little ram doing huh?"

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Valeth just thinks you're copying him in a way and is flattered.

Aweee, little mate is so strong and tough! He's so proud!

Encourages the behavior, as long as you don't hurt yourself!

He's much stronger than you so your affections don't do much, but you bet your ass he's putting his whole soul in pretending to get hurt.

Rough houses with you as if you were a little child play fighting, he loves playing with his little warrior!

If you do get hurt, he's putting all play fighting to a halt! He's checking up on you and making sure you're ok with the softest voice you've ever heard from an orc.

You might be fine but he's not taking no for an answer, you're getting some rest!

Love love loves your bearhugs! He tests your strength and lets you squeeze him as hard as you can!

Biting is met with kisses all over your face, it's what you get for being so cute!

Body slams are more like you latching onto him and trying not to fall off because of how large he is..

"Oh my little duckling can bite! How fierce! You're so strong haha!"

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Bo appreciates how energetic and lively you are, but please no rough housing ;-;

He doesn't want you to get hurt or hurt anyone else, even though you're perfectly capable of regulating how rough you can me, he's just a lil protective is all

He only allows bear hugs and squeezes, anything else is greeted by the time out corner (him trapping you in his arms in the bed until you give up)

"Now now hun, not so rough ok? I don't want you gettin banged up or anythin.."

Ribs is also a feral little man and absolutely loves that you're as rowdy as him!

You two love play fighting and biting affectionately!

He loves your headbutts! he returns them all the time

"Ahahaha! Again again!"

Soda tolerates it, he just appreciates that you're comfortable enough to rough house with him.

He's not the energetic type but he'll give you sleepy kisses and squeeze you back if you bear hug him

Doesn't bite but he likes nibbling on you

He's not as lively as you, but he loves reciprocating your affection!

"You're so strong hehe~"

Screw is scared

He is oddly aroused

He's also hopelessly trying to stop himself from called you sir or daddy or any dominant title because oh my god you are so awesome

He's looking at you with puppy dog eyes asking for your love and attention

PICK HIM UP TOSS HIM AROUND SHOVE HIM BITE HIM PLEASE HE LOVES IT!

Imagine him kicking his legs and rambling about you to the others

"H-hello si- dadd- (Y/N)! Hi (Y/N) heheh.."

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Wolfie loves how rowdy you are! he loves playing!

That's his way of telling you he loves you, but of course he's extra gentle when playing with you, he wouldn't wanna get his mate scratched up!

Loves rolling around and playing around with you, it makes him feel like a pup again!

Doesn't like you biting him though, you might get something icky in your mouth!

Licks you all over if you get hurt or get a little too rough to make you feel better!

Headbutts are rewarded with his big paws bopping you on the head like he's trying to pet you!

If he's tired and you're being your lively little self, he just takes you and sleeps on top of you so you can't escape.

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Dorik actually has a lot of brothers and sisters back in hell and you remind him so much of how they used to play around with him.

As much as he adores cuddling you close and doing gentle and calm things with you, he loves how tough you are!

Yes he moans when you bite him.

Everytime you're affectionate with him, he can't help but kiss you all over, you're just so cute!

Almost cries if you give him bear hugs, this man is touchstarved!!!!

He gives you his own love by wrapping his tail around you or rubbing his face into your clothes, chest, hair, anywhere! He loves how you smell so good everyday!

Shrieks if you body slam him, but somehow he's as solid as a rock, he didn't even stumble..

But he's all over you asking if you're ok.

"Master? My love? My darling are you alright?!"

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Kalva unfortunately doesn't like rough-housing, he's made it a rule that you can only mess around outside the nest!

But he adores your bearhugs and headbutts and bites, they're comforting to him in a way, it shows that you're close to him!

He headbutts you too, it's his way of asking for your love and attention.

For a while it was also how he kissed you since he didn't know how to do it properly yet.

He might indulge in your rough ways sometimes by jumping around and messing up his feathers on purpose, but you should promise to help preen them afterwards!

Nevertheless, he loves you to bits and just wants to keep you safe <3

"My mate is so excited! My mate is happy!"

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Jasper is scared for his life but in a fun way.

He never knows the next time you're gonna bite him or tackle him into a hug, it's like a game for you both.

He gets you back by surprise tickling you, it's pretty effective.

If he expects the biting, he definitely bites you too, kissing the area right after for extra measure.

Don't get me wrong he's absolutely flustered whenever you do it, but he gets used to it after a while.

But no rough-housing with him! He's fragile and might break something.

Legit asks you to crack his back if ever he's having back aches.

"Hey love, my back's a little weird again, can I get another hug~?"

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Viktor is surprised and a little intrigued.

Oh? My darling is so energetic, I love it!

If you ever try anything on him, he chuckles and 'punishes' you with kisses all over your face and cuddles you until you give up.

Your bites kind of freak him out

Like he's supposed to bite people! It's kind of weird having people bite him, it's a bit exciting..

"My my~ Is my little bat misbehaving again~?"

Garrick doesn't tolerate roughness at all.

You might get hurt! What if one of them reciprocates the affection and goes too far? He's not having it!

That is until you do it to him and he absolutely melts at your cuteness.

He goes from strict to 100% on board with your love bops

Refuses to bear hug you, he might break your spine because of how much he loves you!

"Remember to be careful my turtledove! And I love you!"

Silas is all in on your rowdiness, considering he's like that himself.

He's a mischievous little shit and loves play fighting with you.

Loves picking you up and spinning you around, making you hold onto him as you two giggle like young lovers together.

Always does this thing where he cups your face and shakes your head side to side, he says its because you're too cute and your face must be a mask because no one is that perfect!

Gives you gentle and soft kisses after your rough moments because he wants to make sure he didn't hurt you. He feels the need to remind you always how much you mean to him and how happy you make him feel.

"My little owl, so cute, so adorable~ I'll never leave you Darling~"

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Baron tries his best to keep you calm but you're just to fuckin adorable!

He's a cold hard assassin! Why is he smiling over weak little attempts to hurt him?!

Scolds you for rough housing but his heart breaks if you pout or if he hurts your feelings

Immediately says sorry and holds your hand tight to show he still loves you, he just doesn't wanna see you potentially hurt yourself.

If you're rough with anyone else, he's pulling you off and dragging you away whilst holding you in the tightest bear hug, his actions screaming out 'you're mine!'

Of course he denies it all, saying excuses like 'what if they think you wanna pick a fight?'

But you know he's just jealous that you're not giving him that attention.

Still doesn't tolerate bodyslams or bites but bear hugs, headbutts and squeezing his hand are highly appreciated. Highly

"How about we settle down now boss hm~? I'll run you a nice hot bath if you'd like~"

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Caspian is a wimpy little bitch and gets upset if you play fight with him.

He'll start whining for you to stop but like also whine if you stop giving him attention. (little shit)

Lives for your bear hugs! SQUEEZE HIM HARDER PLEASE!!!

Headbutts make him dizzy and otherwise just confused but he appreciates it and thinks you're trying to kiss him.

He'll pull you close and show you what a real kiss is like~

Bite him and he's flustered.

Like about to have a stroke and can't form a complete sentence flustered.

"Ohohoh~ Oh my~ H-how fascinating~!"

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Hallow loves playing! Wait what are you doi-

Gets the message (i think) and starts to play fight with you too, chasing you around the house and wrapping you up in his long arms to tickle you all over!

Pretends to be a scary monster and nuzzles his face into you once he catches you, imitating eating. That's what you get for trying to fight the big spooky Hallow!

Your headbutts and affections make him so happy he starts jingling from how much he's trying to hold back.

He loves roughing you up a bit too, but his little bops aren't so strong since he's made of cotton and love <3 <3 <3

If you're getting a bit too rough, he wraps you up and kisses you softly before letting you go once you calm down.

"You tired from lovin on me all day sweetie~? It's alright, I got a looooootta lovin left for you~!"

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Ashvan is terrified!

On one hand eeeeee so cute! He wants to return your affections so bad!!!

But also you might die???

He's a big guy, and he's aware of his size and strength, so he's pretty wary on how he handles you.

You're like a little porcelain doll to him! He'd be so sad if anything happened to you just because he wanted to express his love to you!

He loves your bops, but giving you a warm smile and a kiss is all he can do really.

He makes up for it in giving you gifts, helping around the infirmary, cuddling you at night, the little things.

He wished he was more gentle so he can do the things you do to him! He so wishes to hug you as hard as he can!

"S-so cute...I-I mean so uhm..strong and fierce haha! So not adorable and precious in every way possible! Yeah.."

[thescrumptiousstuffs]

Moonlight Chicken episode 5

This was an emotionally charged episode. I appreciate the montage of what was a beautiful relationship between Alan and Wen, before it disintegrate into bitter fights…each scene was carefully thought out and both First and Mix were amazing in their characters (I feel for both of them, but I won’t lie, my sympathy goes to Alan more because I know Wen (at least) will get Jim eventually, knowing how persistence he is - while Alan currently has no one 🥹😭).

I also appreciate how everything that is shown in this drama is raw, and I can see it happening in real life… (but gosh, now I just want to go stick my head in a bubble that will guarantee me a happily ever after!)

My soul and beating heart continues to belong to Heart and Li Ming - these 2 are always joyful to watch and their friendship and innocent love 💕 is like a soothing balm (although that last scene with Heart parents, sob 😭)

And although Gaipa wasn’t in many scene, when he was in..he made it count - gosh, you can see his crush miles away. And I’m already dreading the scene when he likely would get rejected 🥹 (also, not gonna lie, I just wanted to post a picture of Khao 🫣)

By the end of the episode, I’m glad that Wen finally made it clear to Alan that they are over with Wen moving out - it gives them a clean break and sets the boundary (also, allows Wen to run into the arm of Jim - hey, I’m not complaining 😅, I’ll run into his arm too if I can!)

Onwards to Episode 6…should be interesting now that Jim and Wen are living together 😆

[pumkinbones]

Personal garbage I need to get out under the cut.

Been very emotionally tired of late. It's been draining all my batteries and I'm desperately trying to charge them. Keep my mind busy yanno? Getting back into drawing has helped tremendously! Seriously it's been years since I produced so much and it's amazing. (Crazy what reduced stress and more happiness will do for a person, huh?) But I'm afraid I'm gonna burn myself out because I've piled projects onto myself. Ones I am SUPER excited for but afraid my desire to keep drawing daily to distract myself might have a negative effect.

Now since I no longer have to worry about two other people, I am now focusing on other things to worry about even though things are definitely fine. Like the art burnout or what other people think of me. Past couple of weeks have been me afraid that my friends are only putting up with me out of pity. That I really am a horrible person. I don't deserve happiness. How dare I bother people when I'm lonely because I'm not worth other people spending their energy on me. I am annoying others and I should just shut up. I have to remind myself that it isn't true. Easier said than done...

What's complicating matters is there is this lady at work who is so nice and kind. We share similar backgrounds. She's helped keep me company, and talked me through stuff when I was having my meltdown in June. She's already told me she likes me, and I really don't know how to process that. Besides I don't think I'm ready for an in person relationship so soon. Especially when there is already someone else on my mind.

I've had this... for lack of a better term, crush on this other person for years at this point. I know nothing will probably come of it because of many reasons. But focusing my attention on them, seeing them happy, it makes me happy as well. It's all I want right now. I don't wanna make things weird or ruin anything. Their friendship means so much to me.

While dealing with this I've been having nightmares. Nonstop dreams that the girls are trying to get back into my life. Hell one scared me and flipped me out of the bed because I "woke up" and both of them were beside me in bed. I freaked out and pushed them away, but then I actually woke up when I hit the floor. Seems like l shoved the mattress hard and the springs bounced me the rest of the way. Others are just them barging into the house unannounced or trying to aggressively confront me in public. This right here is what's been sucking the soul out of me. If this would stop I would at least be able to keep my energy at a half a tank...

Soon hopefully my brain will calm down. Getting this out has already helped. Though I know it's still a rocky road ahead. Healing is hard, anxiety sucks, but if it weren't for all the other kind people in my life I don't know where I'd be. I love all of them. Especially the cursed ass ones. <3

[idreamtofmanderleyagain]

Hot takes about Severus Snape are a wierdly decent glimpse into how a person with progressive values analyses things. Literally every time someone talks about Snape, it’s like this tiny window into how one-dimentionally people actually think.

Recently saw a twitter post that was a fantastic example. Here’s how it goes (paraphrasing):

Person A:“Snape is POC and Queer coded, that’s why you guy’s hate him uwu lol.”

Person B: “Actually I hate him because he was mean and abusive to children under his care uwu but go off I guess lol”

Both of these takes are designed to be dramatic and/or reactionary. They each use partial truths to paint very broad strokes. These are get-em-in-one-hit quips. This is virtue signalling, if you’ll excuse that loaded phrase. Nobody had a substantial conversation, but now everyone who sees their statement knows the high ground they took.

At least a hundred other people chimed in to add their own little quippy hot takes into play, none of which add anything significant, but clearly made everyone feel very highly of themselves.

So many layers of nuance and complex analysis is completely lost in this kind of discussion. On tumblr, you get more of this kind of bullshit, but you don’t have a word count limit, so you guys just spew endless mountains of weak overblown evidence backing up your bullshit arguments, none of which was really about engaging in a real conversation anyway.

Here’s the thing about Snape.

He is a childhood domestic abuse victim. His abuser is a muggle.

He becomes a student at a magical school that takes him away from his abuser and immediately instills in him the idea that being a part of this magical world is a badge of self-worth, empowerment, and provides safety and security - provided that he keeps in line.

There is a war is being waged in that world over his right to exist (he is a half blood).

He is a marginalized person within the context of the narrative, forced to constantly be in the same living space as the children of his own oppressors who are being groomed and recruited into a hate group militia (the pureblood slytherins). They are in turn trying to do the same to him.

He is marginalized person bullied by children who are also part of his oppressor group, but who have “more liberal” leanings and aren’t direct about why he’s being targeted (the mauraders are all purebloods, Sirius, who was the worst offender, was raised in a bigoted household, the same one that produced Bellatrix.).

He had a crush on a girl who is a muggleborn, and therefore she is considered even lesser than him and carries a stigma to those who associate with her. That girl was his only real friend. In his entire life.

For both Snape and Lily, allying themselves to a pureblood clique within their own houses would be a great way of shielding themselves from a measure of the bigotry they were probably facing. There would have been obvious pressure from those cliques to disconnect with one and other.

Every other person who associates with Snape in his adulthood carries some sort of sociopolitical or workplace (or hate cult) baggage with their association. Some of them will physically harm and/or kill him if he steps out of line. He hasn’t at any point had the right environment to heal and adjust from these childhood experiences. Even his relationship with Dumbledore is charged with constant baggage, including the purebloods who almost killed him during their bullying getting a slap on the wrist, the werewolf that almost killed him as a child being placed in an authority position over new children, etc. Dumbledore is canonically manipulative no matter his good qualities, and he has literally been manipulating Snape for years in order to cultivate a necessary asset in the war.

He is a person who is not in the stable mental state necessary to be teaching children, whom has been forced to teach children. While also playing the role of double agent against the hate group militia, the one that will literally torture you for mistakes or backtalk or just for fun. The one that will torture and kill him if he makes one wrong move.

Is the math clicking yet? From all of this, it’s not difficult to see how everything shitty about Snape was cultivated for him by his environment. Snape was not given great options. Snape made amazingly awful choices, and also some amazingly difficult, courageous ones. Snape was ultimately a human who had an extremely bad life, in which his options were incredibly grim and limited.

In fact, pretty much every point people make about how shitty Snape is as a person makes 100% logical sense as something that would emerge from how he was treated. Some if it he’s kind of right about, some of it is the inevitable reality of suffering, and some of it is part of the cycle of abuse and harm.

Even Snape’s emotional obsession with Lily makes logical sense when you have the perspective that he literally has no substantial positive experiences with other human beings that we know of, and he has an extreme, soul destroying guilt complex over her death. Calling him an Incel mysoginist nice guy projects a real-world political ideology and behavior that does not really apply to the context of what happened to him and her.

Even Snape’s specific little acts of cruelty to certain students is a reflection of his own life experiences. He identifies with Neville; more specifically, he identifies his own percieved emotional weaknesses in his childhood in Neville. There’s a very sad reason there why he feels the urge to be so harsh.

Snape very clearly hates himself, in a world where everyone else hates him, too. Imagine that, for a second. Imagine total internal and external hatred, an yearning for just a little bit of true connection. For years. Imagine then also trying to save that world, even if it’s motivated by guilt. Even if nobody ever knows you did it and you expect to die a miserable death alone.

There are more elements here to consider, including the way Rowling described his looks (there may be something in there re: ugliness and swarthy stereotyping). These are just the things that stand out the most prominently to me.

J.K. Rowling is clearly also not reliable as an imparter of moral or sociopolitical philosophies. I don’t feel that her grasp of minority experiences is a solid one, considering how she picks and chooses who is acceptable and who is a threat.

All of that said, this is a logically consistent character arc. Within the context of his narrative, Snape is a marginalized person with severe PTSD and emotional instability issues who has absolutely no room available to him for self-improvement or healing, and never really has. And yes, he’s also mean, and caustic, and verbally abusive to the students. He’s also a completey miserable, lonely person.

There are elements in his character arc that mirror real world experiences quite well. If nothing else, Rowling is enough of an emotional adult to recognise these kinds of things and portray something that feels authentic.

In my opinion, it’s not appropriate to whittle all this down by comparing him directly to the real world experiences of marginalized groups - at least if you are not a part of the group you are comparing him to. There have been many individuals who have compared his arc to their own personal experiences of marginalization, and that is valid. But generally speaking, comparing a white straight dude to people who are not that can often be pretty offensive. This is not a valuable way to discuss either subject.

Also, I believe that while it’s perfectly okay to not like Snape as a character, many of the people who act like Person B are carrying Harry’s childhood POV about Snape in their hearts well into their own adulthood. And if nothing else, Rowling was attempting to say something here about how our perspectives (should) grow and change as we emotionally mature.  She doesn’t have to be a good person herself to have expressed something true about the world in this instance, and since this story is a part of our popular culture, people have a right to feel whatever way they do about this story and it’s characters.

The complexity of this particular snapshot of fictionalized marginalization, and what it reveals about the human experience, cannot be reduced down to “he’s an abuser so he’s not worth anyone’s time/you are bad for liking him.”

And to be honest, I think that it reveals a lot about many of us in progressive spaces, particularly those of us who less marginalized but very loud about our values, that we refuse to engage with these complexities in leu of totally condemning him. Particularly because a lot of the elements I listed above are indeed reflected in real world examples of people who have experienced marginalization and thus had to deal with the resulting emotional damage, an mental illness, and behavior troubles, and bad decisions. Our inability to address the full scope of this may be a good reflection of how we are handling the complexity of real world examples.

Real people are not perfect angels in their victimhood. They are just humans who are victims, and we all have the capacity to be cruel and abusive in a world where we have been given cruelty and abuse. This is just a part of existing. If you cannot sympathise with that, or at least grasp it and aknowledge it and respect the people who are emotionally drawn to a character who refects that, then you may be telling on yourself to be honest.

To be honest, this is especially true if you hate Snape but just really, really love the Mauraduers. You have a right to those feelings, but if you are moralizing this and judging others for liking Snape, you’ve confessed to something about how you’ve mentally constructed your personal values in a way I don’t think you’ve fully grasped yet.

I have a hard time imagining a mindset where a story like Snape’s does not move one to empathy and vicarious grief, if I’m honest. I feel like some people really just cannot be bothered to imagine themselves in other people’s shoes, feeling what they feel and living like they live. I struggle to trust the social politics of people who show these kinds of colors, tbh.

But maybe that’s just me.

[iamnmbr3]

Hm. So I really desperately want the Loki show to be good but I saw a new interview with the writer and I have to say. Some of it really concerned me.

"Taking an organisation that is so soul-crushing by-the-book, so to speak, in their managing of time and dropping the most chaotic character in all of the MCU smack-dab in the middle of that is just amazing juxtaposition". 

Really? Name one prank Loki has ever pulled on screen.

The issue here is that Loki isn’t the most chaotic character in the MCU. By any stretch the imagination. This interview seems to have conflated comics!Loki and MCU!Loki, even though they are quite different characters. Even the most cursory watch of Thor 2011 and TDW should reveal that. When in the MCU has Loki’s motivation ever been about chaos or pranks??!

In Thor 2011 he was simmering with very legitimate hurt and resentment (neither of which have anything to do with chaos OR pranks!) but what ultimately drove him to action was the extremely valid fear that Thor would start a war. He used trickery not for fun but to try to delay Thor’s coronation and thus forestall violence. Things don’t go as planned, resulting in the unravelling of his life and culminating in his SUICIDE ATTEMPT at the end of the movie.

In The Avengers he is being mind controlled and forced to conquer earth. His truer self wants to escape Thanos who has been torturing him. In TDW he wants to escape the horrific prison he has been confined in, alone for all eternity and also to avenge his mother. (I think there is compelling evidence that he also is planning to die in combat because he doesn’t want to return to prison and prefers death). In Ragnarok his motivations include avoiding Thor’s rage, escaping the clutches of the Grandmaster (a terrifyingly powerful being who vastly outclasses him in terms of raw power), and protecting the Asgardian people. 

Even Thor is more chaotic than Loki in the MCU. He tends to charge into things without always thinking first, and is far more mercurial. Think of how he started a war over an insult in Thor 1, or how he initially attacked the Avengers. The actual agents of chaos and wacky hijinks in the MCU tho are neither Thor nor Loki, but rather the Guardians of the Galaxy. Maybe the Loki writers watched the Guardians movies by mistake? (Pro tip: if the character speaking looks like a raccoon, it’s not Loki.

Loki stabbing Laufey according to this interview: “it was just a prank bro!”

“Loki is proper and pompous, Owen is folksy and down-to-earth – so right away, energies clash in a way that’s harmonious.”

Um??!? Ok first off. Owen Wilson = real person. Loki = fictional character. So it's weird to juxtapose them, but I’m going to assume he meant to say “Mobius.” Also ??! Loki is...neither of those things? This quote sounds like what would happen if someone who had never been to the UK or seen the Loki films looked up "what is a stereotype about British people?" and just made that Loki's character. 

All the tremendous nuance and depth and complexity and pathos of Loki’s character, and what they come up with is the generic “pompous and proper”??Also, the incorrect assessments of Loki’s character aren’t even consistent. How can he be both an agent of chaos AND super prim and proper?! Those things are contradictory. 

And seriously. WHEN is Loki pompous and proper? Is this referring to Loki’s speaking style? He uses the same Asgardian speaking style that Thor uses. It’s more formal in Thor 2011, Avengers, and Thor: The Dark World, and a little more casual in Ragnarok because of a change in writing style. (Though even in Ragnarok while they speak more casually they never use earth slang like “gonna” or “crap.”)

Anyone who had seen Thor 2011 would remember that THOR was the arrogant and pompous one at the beginning of the movie, and that this was meant to contrast with Loki who was very quiet and internalized and repressed. Loki’s whole origin story happened because no one listened to or respected him so he resorted to desperate measures to achieve what he believed was right (the prevention of a war!) and then had a mental breakdown due to the way circumstances unfolded. 

And, yes Loki carries himself like royalty. But that’s not because he’s pompous. It’s because he IS royalty. He's literally a prince! Loki doesn’t have a high opinion of himself at all. One of his major issues is that he’s consumed by self-hatred. This again feels like they’ve conflated comics!Loki and MCU!Loki. 

It’s weird that I have yet to see any of the show writers talk about even 1 aspect of Loki's character that they like or find sympathetic or interesting or emotionally compelling. 

(Also. Mobius is a bureaucrat who works for a heartless organization that murders people for the slightest show of noncompliance. And he apparently doesn’t care that Loki was tortured by Thanos. That doesn’t make him “folksy” or “down-to-earth.” It makes him complicit in atrocities.)

"and my goal from day one was to tell a story of Loki that had never been told before"

This again ties back into Disney’s bizarre new positioning that this show is the first time Loki has been out of his comfort zone, which utterly ignores the fact that in his every appearance so far Loki’s story has been defined by lack of control. Loki being in the power of people who use him, lie to him, mistreat him, threaten him, gaslight him, and/or scapegoat him is hardly new. It’s what’s been happening to him in every movie. 

[cqlfeels]

Liveblogging #7

Time to meet up with A-Ning!

Before I begin can I just say

Like the Yiling Patriarch, the one known by the moniker “Ghost General” was infamous and widely known by all. And the two usually appeared together. There was only one man whom that name referred to: the number one fierce corpse under the control of Yiling Patriarch Wei Ying, the one who aided his tyrannical rule, fanned the flames of chaos, helped the villain in his evil, and caused havoc in the world. Wen Ning!

Is this guy

The MDZS-CQL experience is wild

Love WWX mildly freaking out that WN showed up when he was supposed to be dead²

Confession time: I'm not into animations so while I watch the donghua I don't get any sort of thrill out of its action scenes, and I find the CQL cgi distracting. Usually that makes no difference for my enjoyment of MDZS because I can picture the action scenes clearly in my mind anyway. Except for WN's fight against the statue. I have yet to manage to take this fight seriously because I just can't imagine it in any way I like

Illustration!WN does look super fierce, tho, I'll give you that

There goes MXTX with the themes again... They could have restored the souls of the victims of the Heavenly Maiden, but they don't even think of that because they're too busy attacking WN, who's just saved everyone. And it's not an unreasonable thing to do either, WN is no innocent angel who's never hurt anyone, but that just moves the goalposts. WN is violent because of what was done to him. You can keep going back forever

Wangxian.mp3!

LWJ: I just *clenches hand around WWX's wrist* love you

Let's do some math: restoring the souls of a village < destroying/capturing the Ghost General < gazing into WWX's eyes* (*LWJ exclusive. Conditions may apply.)

The mental image of JC sitting down for tea and immediately having to dash off screaming A-LING!!! is just hilarious

The undercover Yunmeng Jiang disciples shadowing JL sound like characters in a cheesy romcom

AU where WWX DOES crash into a tree after being hit by Zidian and begins to suffer from short term memory loss so we have a 50 First Dates situation

Love the thought process here. "On one hand, this man can clearly control the Ghost General, which is something only the Yiling Patriarch can do. On the other hand he's gay and WWX wasn't gay so I guess that proves he isn't WWX after all"

Like I know there are other factors involved, but at the same time... WWX/MXY tutorial: how to use biphobia to disguise a whole resurrection

Also WWX hating that they're insulting his flute skills is hilarious. LWJ and JC are having one of the most emotionally charged moments of their lives and he's mentally whining that Random Extra #893 doesn't think he plays well

JC being genuinely upset that the man he thinks is his brother doesn't think he's hot speaks very eloquently of his need for heavy-duty therapy

And with LWJ taking a cute boy home after the first not-really-a-date because he's 90% sure that's his dead crush somehow, we end both the chapter and the post. Next time, Cloud Recesses and I'll get to see how LXC's delightful speech patterns are translated!

[buoyantsaturn]

megamind type beat (1/1)

warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

summary: If Nico asked, Will might even let the world fall to ashes around them.

word count: 2025

read on ao3

Will Solace was a little bit in love with Nico di Angelo.

Everything about Nico was perfect in Will’s eyes, despite how opposite the two of them were. While Will was incredibly extroverted, Nico was quiet and reserved, though when the two of them were alone, Nico would light up - and sometimes, it was difficult to get him to shut up once he got excited. The two of them already spent almost every waking hour together, but Will would make it more in a heartbeat if he could.

If Nico asked, Will might even let the world fall to ashes around them.

Nico knew more about Will than anybody in the world, though there was one secret Will had never been able to share, no matter how much he wished he could, and that was the truth about Will’s identity.

He knew nothing about Will’s superpowers, or the high-tech weapons that Will kept locked away but always nearby in case of a supervillain-sized emergency. It was the only thing that Will had ever kept from Nico, but every day Will felt like Nico never really knew the real him.

And, okay, he’d never told Nico how he felt about him, either.

Will never wanted to risk ruining their friendship over a dumb crush (which was how it started, but now Will really was fully head-over-heels in love with Nico), especially when Nico didn’t really seem to have many other friends, so Will had never acted on his feelings.

It didn’t help that, just about every time that he did plan some way to confess, the world would start falling down around them. And, of course, it was Will’s job to fix that.

As Solar Flare, Will was the perfect hero to fight Nightmare, a villain who only attacked the city at its darkest times, both physically and emotionally. He had confessed to Solar Flare once that he often waited until the city was at its weakest, late at night or after some kind of tragedy, because it would be easier to cause mass chaos and destruction. Will sometimes wondered if Nightmare caused those tragedies as a setup for the next night’s evil plan.

Will had been on his way to surprise Nico with pizza and video games when he heard the city’s siren go off. It was one that had formerly been used to warn about incoming tornadoes, but now was recognized to mean supervillains are attacking, take cover. Will had hastily handed off his box of pizza to a homeless man on the nearest corner before ducking into an alleyway to change into his bright white-and-yellow spandex suit. (Why did heroes always have to wear spandex? There was never any padding in those things, and he bruised like a peach.)

Will had appreciated the quietness of the last week - he’d gotten to spend plenty of time with Nico and caught up on some of the homework from his community college classes (because he couldn’t rely on a superhero’s salary forever) - though he’d been getting antsy about his next fight with Nightmare. He could feel that the other had had something cooking for sometime, and Will had a few new weapons he wanted to try out, as well.

He caught up with Nightmare in the middle of Central Park; it hadn’t been difficult to trace the pained screaming back to that spot. The villain’s clothes were always black as night, likely to make it easier for him to move around undetected in the darkness, and his head was surrounded by something similar to a solid black motorcycle helmet. When Will had first seen it, it had reminded him of Daft Punk - though mentioning that had gotten him shot with some kind of laser-ice-beam gun that left him with a minor case of frostbite in the middle of summer. Will was certain that the inside of that helmet was full of computer screens, similar to how Iron Man’s helmet looked in the movies.

Will tried to sneak up on him, but his helmet must’ve gotten an upgrade recently - new sensors, or maybe a backup camera - because that creepy, auto-tuned voice that the helmet produced announced, “You’re late to the party, Lampshade Man.”

Will huffed. “It’s Solar Flare, and you know that.”

“Sure,” Nightmare replied, “but you’re cute when you pout like that.”

Will blinked, thrown off guard for just a second, though it wasn’t long enough for Nightmare to spin around and shoot him with some kind of stun gun. Will avoided the shot easily, and charged forward in an attempt to tackle Nightmare, though the other seemingly vanished into thin air before appearing again a few feet away.

“What’s the plan, Nightmare?” Will demanded, staying on his toes but knowing that this game of cat and mouse would only tire himself out.

“I could ask you the same question,” he replied. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

He had, actually, but he’d wanted a confirmation. He’d stayed up too late after too many fights, piecing together little bits of information here and there until the wall of his bedroom looked like a total conspiracy theory board. Some of the weapons Nightmare had been testing, some of the things he’d mentioned from his past in his evil monologuing, it was all leading up to one thing. A machine that could suck the soul out of a person in order to bring someone back to life. The only thing Will couldn’t figure out was why.

His mind jumped back to Nico, as it so often did. How he’d mentioned the loss of a sister, and how he would do anything to bring her back, if only he’d had the power. It had broken Will’s heart at the time, and now, seeing Nightmare trying to do something similar, Will was filled with rage.

“You can’t play God,” Will told him, his voice shaking with anger. “Everybody loses somebody important, and there’s nothing you can do to bring them back. All you’re going to do is hurt innocent people, and make others feel the same pain of losing a loved one. Now, destroy your machine, or I’ll be forced to do it for you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Nightmare said, holding up a remote and hitting one of the buttons. Suddenly, the screaming around them amplified as more people succumbed to what must have been a horrible pain. Will glanced around, trying to locate some sort of central point, though the noise was echoing all around them.

“What are you doing to them?” Will demanded, his eyes searching for Nightmare, though he only saw subtle flashes in the dark - the villain was taunting him, moving just too fast for Will to see.

“Draining the life out of them, of course,” Nightmare said, suddenly right behind him, and Will barely had a second to whip around and attack. Normally, he would aim for the head to incapacitate his enemy - a bank robber, or some drunk trying to start a street brawl - but the helmet prevented Nightmare from taking damage that way, so Will aimed for the stomach instead.

Luckily for him, it appeared that villains were a part of the spandex curse as well, because Nightmare had nothing to cushion the impact of Will’s elbow into his gut. Nightmare groaned from the hit, curling inward and allowing Will the time to spin around and continue his assault.

He’d never gotten close enough to touch Nightmare - always fighting with ranged weapons at a distance - but now that he could, he hardly believed that there was really a person inside Nightmare’s suit. His body was so cold to the touch, and whenever Will tried to grasp at an arm or a leg, his hand almost seemed to pass through him before finding purchase.

And Nightmare, it seemed, was better at hand-to-hand combat than he was with a weapon. Despite being smaller in stature, he nearly overpowered Will more than a few times, leaving Will to resort to reaching for a weapon for what he hoped was the last time.

He could end it all - he finally had Nightmare in his grasp, and he could finish him. Will could go back to fighting petty crime and spending his nights on the couch beside Nico, stuffing himself full of junk food and bingeing movies. He could get his life back, and all it would cost was him taking the life of someone else.

Wasn’t that what this was leading up to all along?

Will pulled a small, golden dagger from his belt and lodged it between Nightmare’s ribs, feeling the other man suddenly solidify, hearing him gasp through the strange auto-tuned effect, and then he collapsed, the remote falling out of his hand as he did so.

Will lunged for the remote. He couldn’t see it very well in the dark, but there were only a few buttons, so one of them had to be off. He jammed at each button until the screaming around them started to die down, no longer cries of active pain but of a slowly fading injury, shouts of fear and shouts for help.

Will would check on all of them soon. First, he needed to unmask his long-time enemy.

He could hear Nightmare’s pained breathing being projected through his helmet, though his breaths were shallow. Will could barely see any movement of his chest in the distant glow of the streetlight, though he saw the shine of blood pouring from the knife wound in his chest. Will knelt beside him and reached for the helmet, tugging it off without trying to cause any more unnecessary injury, and the object nearly slipped between his fingers when Will’s eyes landed on the face he revealed.

He tossed the helmet aside, bending down to get a closer look and brushing the hair out of the other man’s face and there was Nico, his Nico, the love of his life with a knife wound in his chest, Will’s knife sticking out of his chest, and Will couldn’t breathe.

“No,” Will choked, forgetting everything he learned from his CPR training and pulling Nico’s head to rest on his lap as tears started to streak down his face. “No, this can’t be happening. You can’t be--”

“Will,” Nico croaked, and Will’s heart stopped, but no, Nico wasn’t looking at him - he was looking past Will. He wasn’t about to beg Will for mercy, or plead for his life, or demand to know why his best friend had done this to him. He was calling, reaching out for some sense of comfort in the end, and Will felt himself sob.

“I’m right here,” Will whispered, reaching to apply pressure to the wound without jostling the knife, though Nico still grimaced in pain. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Nico,” he cried, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I would never-- I love you, Nico, and help is on the way, okay? I’ll save you - I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.”

“Will,” Nico tried again, and the movement of his tongue pushed a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth, “hurts.”

“I know,” Will replied, his vision clouding with tears. “Don’t talk, Nico. Save your strength. You’ll be okay.”

“Can’t--” Nico wheezed, and coughed, and choked.

“Nico,” Will said, louder than before, begging for his attention. “Nico, look at me.”

Nico’s eyes rolled back, and his head tipped to follow. Will patted his cheek, trying to wake him up once more, though all he did was smear Nico’s face with his own blood.

“No, no, no,” Will choked, curling forward to press his forehead to Nico’s. “I’m sorry, Nico, please, I’ll do anything!”

Nico didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

Will lowered him back to the ground, and felt his hand hit something as it slid out from underneath Nico’s head.

The remote.

The remote to the machine Nico had created to bring his sister back to life. The remote that, at the cost of one other human life - or more, Will didn’t actually know - could bring Nico back to him.

Could Will bring himself to make that sacrifice?

His thumb hovered over the buttons.

thanks for reading!!

buy me a coffee

[jenniferstolzer]

Babylon 5 Rewatch ep 2.20 The Long, Twilight Struggle

Sheridan and Delenn receive an invitation to Epsilon III where Draal pledges the Great Machine to the campaign against the Shadows. Meanwhile Londo commits his Shadow allies to one more attack against the Narn, allowing the Centauri to commit war crimes and end the Narn conflict.

Things I like about The Long Twilight Struggle

1, An energy fluctuation happens on the planet and Corwin turns to his coworkers like “There’s something happening. Contact Commander Ivanova” then the camera drifts to a private quarters. A shower is running. We see the steam as we coast slowly toward the bathroom for a tasteful near nude shot of Claudia Chris—NOPE Bruce Boxleitner. I CACKLED.

2, Draal is great and I love him. It worked out that Sheridan is new here to get a refresher on who Draal is and what’s going on with the Great Machine. Also the Great Machine making him younger is a good way to explain why he’s Herman Munster now. I’m guessing he’ll stay young and vibrant until he disintegrates like the last guy.

3, I appreciate seeing Londo’s true colors in his conversation with Refa. He’s tired, both from the trip to Centauri Prime and of all the war and darkness he’s involved himself in. He’s also still mourning Ursa Jaddo from Knives which was a nice callback considering he had a significant moment of doubt and regret in that episode, and it’s good to be reminded that he’s not totally sold on what’s going on right now. It’s also nice that he’s against the mass drivers at the outset but is convinced to go with Refa’s plan because he considers the glorification of his people more important than himself or anything else. He talks himself into doing something truly horrendous, but it’s wrong and his face knows its wrong. And then Refa makes him watch, when he fully intended to hide from what he’s done. Gguhh the pain is wonderful.

4, Watching this in a rewatch hurts so bad. Like Franklin gives G’Kar a warning about the Centauri’s interest in homeworld. There’s the possibility he can stop it.

5, Delenn and Sheridan go down to Epsilon III she is acting super cocky and in control because she wants to impress her crush, even using clever colorful English phrases. Everyone remembers Abasfrigginlutely Damnit. Oh Delenn….

6, Sheridan looks at the inside of the Great Machine and is like  “Lord, I may not go home” and I laughed b/c it looks like Tron in there.

7. The jump-kicking Centauri.

8, The mass drivers really are the most disgusting move. To devastate a civilian population from space is the ultimate ranged weapon. What could they possibly do? Watching Londo watch it happen is peak drama because as disgusted as he is watching, you know he’s as disgusted with himself in facilitating it. The drama is there but also horror on a level few shows can communicate, that of self-horror. The moment earlier where it was established and Londo still had a concept of right and wrong even as he was dealing with the Shadows is pulling full weight here. At the beginning of this season he was a buffoon struggling to stay afloat, in the middle of the season he finds the power and respect he wanted but loses the trust and friendship of the station in the process, and here at the culmination of his choices he sees what he was really willing to sell his soul for. He could have remained powerless and kept his sense of self, but instead he chose advancement and learned to hate what he’s become. It’s just staggering.

9, G’Kar is also pulling full weight in this episode. He’s prepared to go back to Narn, be with his family, and die among his people but he is the only member of the Kha’Ri not on homeworld and being so, he is an in credibly valuable asset for the race now that surrender is unavoidable. The tears in his eyes when asking for sanctuary are soul crushing, and the horror and shame he’s feeling is an inversion of Londo’s… powerlessness and being suppressed despite knowing he could do more verses being powerful and regretting it.

10, The Centauri terms of surrender are so cruel. It’s the turn of a knife that’s already been plunged to the hilt and Sheridan coming in to yank the dagger back an inch like a badass is extremely galvanizing and give Delenn grounds to commit the Rangers to him later in the episode. Also something I want to note about this scene that I think is even more important than Sheridan being a hero, it’s G’Kar sitting in his normal spot in complete despair, enduring Londo’s terms. Londo is dressed in every decoration and medal he’s ever owned, screaming at the top of his lungs like being the loudest makes him the rightest, yet G’Kar is silent. Londo demands G’Kar be removed from the council chambers like an invader. Sheridan replies by recounting the request for sanctuary, resulting on the two fighting over G’Kar’s head, but no one calls the bailiff to come get him. No one except Londo tells him he needs to go. They give G’Kar the chance to move. Even Kosh waits to see what he’s going to do. Will he attack? Will he scream and cry? No. He stands and with every ounce of self control he contains, delivers one of the greatest axefalls in television history.

“No dictator, no invader can hold an imprisoned population by force of arms forever. There is no greater power in the universe than the need for freedom. Against that power, governments and tyrants and armies cannot stand. The Centauri learned this lesson once, we will teach it to them again. Though it take a thousand years, we will be free.”

11, AND THATS NOT EVEN THE END OF THE EPISODE! I can’t believe this wasn’t a two-parter with everything that’s happened in this one half an hour of screentime. Sheridan essentially tells G’Kar he’s on his side in this war. He offers G’Kar his hand as an ally, and G’Kar considers it saying; “The last time I offered someone my hand, we were at war 24 hrs later” He pauses to make you wonder if he’s lost the ability to trust, then shakes with Sheridan and the look on his face tells something completely different. He still believes he’ll be at war very shortly, but he’s hoping for it. He’s counting on it.

12, Finally we get the introduction of the Rangers and the only thing that can kind of fit on my “Liked less” list. I like this just fine, but there’s something about Delenn who is in charge of a secret sect of warrior monks pledged to side with the Vorlons against the Shadows, turning the control of those monks over to Sheridan without fully introducing him to their existence. To be fair, she gives him partial control and doesn’t hand it over to him, removing herself from the field and I know having watched the rest of the show that she still is the sole figure in charge of the Rangers and is more accurately pledging herself and those in her service to Sheridan’s cause… but the way they read in this episode it looks like she’s giving Sheridan the reins. The next episode is KIND OF dealing with this with the inquisitor, but in general I think we could have avoided a lot of nonsense if she just phrased her pledge more accurately.

13, And this leads me to a theory… that Babylon5 was labeled their best hope for piece, but really it was built specifically as a neutral ground for the staging of the Shadow war. It really is Babylon 5, as in a replacement for Babylon 4 which was used as a warbase. This is why the Minbari co-founded the station, this is why it ends in fire at the end of everything. It’s existence is specifically tied to the the return of the shadows and the drama and diplomacy of the Narns, Centauri, Telepaths, Earthdome, etc etc are events of the universe that happen to occur there. Wihtout the Shadow War, there’d be no Babylon 5, and without Babylon 5 the universe would not continue.

14.

Finally.

The ARMY OF LIGHT

I got teary-eyed

Things I liked Less about The Long Twilight Struggle

The Delenn thing. But we’ll get back to that next episode. And that’s it.

This episode is truly one of the greatest and most emotionally wrenching pieces of television ever created. It’s a silly scifi show with rubber masks that dares to delve deeper beneath the skin than anything else I’ve seen. We see the horror and depravity of war, but we also see the people turned inside out by it and what colors they are within. Ten out of ten. Thanks for breaking my heart. This is why I had to take pause on my rewatch to prepare.

oh by the way @gin-007 and I are resuming our rewatch from 2019.

and I’m putting all these eps up on @b5picanep as well if you want to go back to see previous episodes. 

[sneezefiction]

“okay, fine!”

Bokuto x Reader - Scenario

event request: “congrats on 600 #10 and Bokuto pls?”

a/n: something about moody, high school Bokuto really just gets me lmao. i love his sweet (sometimes ditzy) self so much. hope you enjoy some fluffy, unconventional confessions! <33

warnings: none!

wc: 1720

---

“Are you gonna stay mad at me forever?” You say, exasperated.

The fluorescent lights are switched off, but the classroom isn’t completely dark. It’s illuminated by open windows and a pale, cloudy sky. Your hand rests loosely on your hip, the other arm hanging limply by your side awaiting his response.

The gloomy boy stays bunched up under the school desk, feet planted and eyes downcast, only giving you a dejected nod in response.

You let out a defeated sigh, your own head drooping in mock despondency. You hope he notices your reaction, but if he did, he doesn’t allude to it.

His golden eyes stay fixed on his shoes.

This would be harder than you thought.

You were used to Bokuto’s antics and aggressive mood swings that caused you to relentlessly chase his thought process until you figured out the issue. With a little prodding and finagling, plus maybe some advice from Akaashi, you could transform his pout into a blossoming, spring glow. His smile would return in a matter of hours to minutes.

But this was different.

He hadn’t smiled, spoken to, or so much as glanced your way in almost an entire month.

Bokuto was constantly groaning with his face squished between his hands, regularly sulking in the halls and gym, and to top it off, avoiding you at every twist and turn. 

You could hardly put a finger on it and to say it made you uneasy would be an understatement. 

You missed his snuggly bear hugs. How his lopsided grin always greeted you before any words could. Hell, you were even beginning to miss that horrible, “Hey, hey, heyyy!”

But clearly something was off… and it seemed to be directed at you.

The silent treatment is about to tear you up inside with worry, so it’s about time you confronted him. 

Taking baby-steps, you slowly make your way up to his hiding place under the desk. Not trying to cross a boundary, you place a shy hand on the cold, plastic table-top, bending your knees into a squat so that you could be eye-level with the moping boy.

But now that you’re up close, you can tell that this isn’t any normal sadness.

You already suspected there was something more going on, but it’s clear now:

He’s actually hurt.

So you let yourself sink gently into a crisscrossed position in front of him, allowing your hands to fall into your lap for a moment before assessing the situation.

As one of Bokuto’s closest friends, you know that physical touch is a good start to any important conversation. So you reach out, being careful not to scrape your hand on the underneath of the table, and tenderly card it through his hair. For how spiky it looks, in all your life you’ve never felt something so soft and silky.

The sensation, though by your own doing, causes you to flush. But this isn’t about your feelings right now. No, this is about the troubled boy in front of you.

The glide of your lithe fingers in his hair finally compels him to glance up at you. Bokuto can’t help but lose some of his despondent edge as your devoted gaze receives his doleful one. 

With a hand still slowly brushing his hair back, a heavy weight lifts off of your shoulders at the sight of his expressive, round eyes. You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. The guilt of not knowing what you’d done wrong had been piling like bricks on your chest, so it’s about time he at least shows you his face.

You muster up that sinking question. One he’s avoided for a month now.

“Bo, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” You coax, your voice delicate and cautious.

Another shake of his head. It’s childish. Silly. But you know it’s genuine.

So you press on,

“I’m joining you down there, okay?” You state quietly, but resolutely.

You awkwardly shift under and into the tiny space. He scoots over, but only just enough that your knee is overlapping his thigh and so that your arm is snugly propped up against his. He doesn’t say it, but every fiber of Bokuto’s being is itching to swallow you up in a 2 hour long, all-consuming hug. He wants to touch your soft skin and laugh gleefully at the sound of your heavenly voice. To breathe in your intoxicating strawberry-chocolate aroma that makes his heart skip a beat.

But how can he do that if you’re not his?

You’re his best friend, but according to Akaashi, best friends don’t typically hold hands and smother each other in devoted, verbal love letters and tears of adoration. Or at least, most best friends don’t.

The reality crushed him. 

He hadn’t realized it until a month ago, but Bokuto has been unknowingly pining after you for years. He wondered why his pulse raced at the brush of your hand or at one of your signature, teasing smiles. Why he wanted to pick you up and spin you around until you were both left breathless in each other’s arms. Why others taking up your time and attention had him pouting and emotionally charged. Why he needed to know everything about you, from your favorite color to the name of every single pet fish you’ve owned.

And then it clicked.

Or, well, Akaashi informed him that his actions and desires were likely due to his “crush” on you.

But that’s beside the point. He couldn’t spin you around in circles. Or press little kisses to your palms and temple. Or hold your smaller hands in his larger, warmer ones. 

He realized he couldn’t do these things… because you aren’t his lover. And the thought of you finding someone else who would do that for you simply crushed his sweet soul.

And of course, if you liked him, you would’ve said something already, right?

But at the brush of your fingertips on his palm, he jolts upright. He instinctively encloses your hand in his palm and turns his head to soak in your features.

“So will you tell me now?” You’re fighting the crimson color that’s sneaking it’s way onto your cheeks, grasping his fingers a little tighter in the process.

And he can’t suppress his true nature any longer. Because, yes, Bokuto has mood swings… but a month-long breakdown is too much for his already addled brain and he is sick and tired of burying his feelings under a pile of uncertainty.

“Okay, fine!” He groans, snuggling his head into your shoulder.

You stiffen. 

First, he ignores you for a month and now he’s back to his sporadic, cuddly tendencies? Were you ever going to be able to get used to this? But before you can relax into the touch, he follows up.

“The thing is… I like you y/n. No, wait, scratch that, I think I love you...” He explains, babbling almost casually, not recognizing the substance of his words.

Your eyes are wide and mouth agape. To most people, this would be the time to acquire an answer. To either receive or reject. Yet he gives you no time to process the confession, continuing in an almost... frustrated manner.

“But the thing is, you don’t like me! Which means I can’t treat you like I’m your boyfriend and go on fun dates and stuff. Y’know like amusement parks and arcades and coffee shops or-”

“Bokuto, wait a second, please, what?” You shuffle away from his touch, your hands firmly set on the ground beside you to steady yourself, facing him head-on.

“Yeah, I know right? This sucks. I only realized I liked you this past month when Akaashi-”

“Bo, stop talking,” You beg, trying to get a flustered word in.

“-told me that wanting to kiss you probably meant-”

“Just let me say something please!” You try to cut in, this time waving your hands frantically to get him to stop.

“-that I liked you. Oh, sure, go ahead.” For someone who’d been moping around for so long, the bubbly attitude that resurfaced had your head spinning. But the confession? Oh, that did it.

Your entire face is a delicate portrait of roses and deep scarlets, reaching up to your ears.

It takes a few seconds to fumble through your muddled thoughts, grasping for some semblance of a response. This… no, Bokuto is overwhelming. But you settle on the most important part of his bizarre confession.

“Who… who said I didn’t like you back?” You question, trying to keep yourself composed, but failing miserably.

He stays silent, processing your words as though they were some test question he hadn’t quite studied for. His eyes blankly scan the room, searching for the answer as though it would show up on the classroom walls.

Finally, Bokuto tilts his head, 

“I don’t know.” He states plainly, full of confusion, 

“How could I know that?”

“Bo, exactly.” You explain, slowly pulling yourself out from your wary position.

Bokuto’s face is devoid of any understanding.

And, once again, you sigh.

He’s painfully unaware of your feelings. So, of course, you would have to be the one to make the first move.

But that’s okay because Bokuto is hopeless if not for physical demonstrations and perfectly clear explanations.

And you opt for the physical, once again.

You draw yourself toward the wide-eyed boy, still managing to keep your head ducked underneath the desk, and grasp one of his calloused hands. He looks down at the contact, baffled. You gingerly lift the other hand, tilting his chin up to meet your warm, cherry-tinted face. 

He smiles but still hasn’t taken the hint.

You roll your eyes comically before leaning in with a sweet smile on your lips.

You take his lips into yours, cautiously sneaking your hand back behind his head to pull him in slightly. Bo’s reaction time intellectually may not be something to brag about… but physically? He already has you pulled into his firm chest, grinning into your unexpected kiss.

You can’t help but giggle as you pull away from your unsuspecting best friend, soon to be boyfriend.

Because this action expresses one minor detail that Bokuto may have forgotten to consider, which wordlessly states,

“Dumbass, you never even bothered to ask me if I liked you back.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list) 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 19)

It is faintly entertaining to see those little fly beasts greet their mother. They swarm her, quite literally engulfing her in a cloud of flies. They haphazardly smack into her as though she is the only streetlamp on the roadside. Finally their frantic energy comes to a slow and they assemble themselves into their human guises. 

 Daniela throws her arms around Alcina first, enveloping her in a tight grip. He can see on her face that she is struggling to breathe and more so when Cassandra adds her own hug. “You guys are crushing her!” Bela scolds and they loosen their hold. Alcina exhales. 

 “Mother, you’re home!” Cassandra beams. 

 “Yes dear, for the night and then I have to leave again.”

 Daniela’s grip tightens once more. “No, mother!” 

 “I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

 “But we miss you right after the door closes, mother.” Bela pouts. Ethan’s stomach twists. 

 Alcina ruffles the girl’s hair. “Has the Duke been treating you well?”

 “Oh yes, he brings us the best food.” Cassandra answers. 

 “And we get to…” Daniela nudges Bela before she can finish. 

 “Before you can what? What does he let you do?”

 “Nothing mother!” Bela replies, earning herself an eye roll. 

 And Ethan’s stomach lolls again both with affection and sorrow. It is a delight to see Alcina smiling again--that soft, warm smile that she has reserved for her daughters alone. All the same it is growing harder and harder for him to imagine a future where he gets to hold his own daughter again. Harder for him to imagine a future where he will eventually get to scold her and ask her why she had been out so late or what petty teenage secrets she is keeping from him. 

If worse comes to worst, he wonders if Alcina would let him have moments like this with her daughters. It is better than not having them at all. 

 God, he hopes that his Rose is still alive. Alive and still Rose and not something that this damnable village has warped her into…

 “Manthing, come here!” Daniela shouts. 

 At least he knows that one of them would welcome him to the family if he had no other…

His tummy does another flip. He is thinking as if his daughter is already gone. He can’t afford to think that way. He tries instead to imagine a future where those fly beasts play with his daughter and give her their warped version of what teenhood and young adulthood is all about.

 Bela, he notices, still has not let go of Alcina. He isn’t sure that she will. 

 .oOo.

 “I should hate you, I should absolutely loathe you.” She pauses. “And make no mistake, I really do want to. I think about everything you’ve done to my daughters, how you’ve almost killed them, how you’ve hurt them. I think about what you’ve done to me.” She hovers her hand over the spot on her side. “I think about how terribly it still hurts.” He cringes but she continues, “oh, and it works, Winters, I want to flay you alive…” 

 He takes several steps back, somehow plenty assured that she would be able to find a way if she really wants to. “Then why don’t you?”

 “I can’t.” She mumbles. “You’re...thrilling, Winters. I haven’t met a human that has impressed me in a very long time. They’re all the same, mostly.” 

 He very nearly points out her humanity but he curbs his tongue at the thought of getting flayed alive. “I don’t know, I’m kind of just a man myself.” 

 “Not quite.” She murmurs. “You have...ambition. You have goals and determination.”

 He finds himself soaking the comments in like a sponge, absorbing them until they warm his soul and his cheeks. He doesn’t think that he should let him get used to them though. He imagines that he will say or do something that will earn him twice as many insults. 

 But the expression on her face remains rather soft. Kinder than he is used to. Truly he finds it hard to understand this woman. This woman who hates him one moment and then cherishes him then next. He wonders if she is like this with everyone she meets or if he makes her feel a special sort of conflict; habit and a comfort zone versus change and adaptation. 

 She seats herself at the head of the table. “Be a dear, Winters, fetch my daughters and I something to drink.” 

 Her daughters eye him with excitement.

 “What’s the magic word?” He tries with a lopsided smile. 

 “Go.” She points towards the wine cellar. He supposes that he should be thankful that she is permitting him to enter her treasured cask at all. He stands up and she flashes him one of her smug, self-satisfied smiles. 

 .oOo.

 Her wine doesn’t taste the same and it makes her sick in every way that it can--physically first and then emotionally, realizing that she can no longer stomach such an extraordinary, delectable taste. She supposes that she can still have herself a good blood bath every now and then, the texture is still pleasant, perhaps just not on her tongue. She rifles through her dresser for the most comfortable nightgown she owns. She might as well enjoy it while she has it. When she finds it she carries it to the bathroom. She supposes that she can fill it with the wine that she can no longer drink...

 “You used to sing!” Ethan declares from across the adjoining bedroom. Alcina’s face flushes, the man wasn’t supposed to have found that again, he wasn’t supposed to remember it.

 “Can you still sing?”

 “I haven’t done so in a very long time.”

 “You should give it a try.” He grins. 

 “Absolutely not.”

 “Come on mother!” Daniela perks up. “Sing something for us!” She isn't sure when the girls had come to join them. She sighs, having a feeling that her bath will have to wait a little longer. Probably becomes a definitely when The Duke find his way into her room.

 “You haven’t sang to us in a long time.” Bela agrees.

 “Girls…” She mutters through gritted teeth. 

 “Just one song, mother?” Cassandra requests. 

 “Now look what you’ve done.” She glowers at Ethan. But the man looks plenty pleased with himself. “I’ll sing if you can get The Duke to play the piano.” She folds her arms stubbornly across her chest. 

 “Gladly, m’lady.” The Duke replies. He strolls his way over to the grand piano and shifts in his chair several times until he finds himself a position that he finds to be both comfortable and optimal for reaching the keys. He plays a few test notes. “What are we singing, Miss D?”

 Alcina crinkles her noise. “That’s Lady Dimitrescu, to you Duke.” 

 The man gives a hearty chortle. 

 She tries to think of a short song, one that she hasn’t forgotten over time. “I will sing Vai Mindruto. You know the cords, yes?”

 “Most assuredly, m’lady.” He strikes the first few notes and Alcina inhales deeply. It has been so terribly long since she has sung even a note. Much less since she has sung before a crowd, nevermind that her audience is small and familiar. 

 .oOo. 

 What she no longer has in size, Lady Dimitrescu makes up for in presence, demeanor, and volume. With a voice like that she might as well be ten feet tall. Her vocals are smooth and her diction is flawless and powerful. 

 He had been expecting an uppity jazz number and she has graced them with an operatic ballad. He thinks that this might just be better than what he’d expected. She has a voice that transcends eras. A voice akin to sipping opulent champagne with his free hand clutching the  gold filigree railing of a  balcony. Her voice has likeness to the warm glow of a diamond chandelier throwing prisms around an otherwise dark and empty ballroom. 

It is haunting and elegant and haunting in its elegance. 

 He observes her daughters as they look upon their mother. Bela is falling asleep on Cassandra’s shoulder as she leans forward to have a better listen. And Daniela buzzes about in a slow, languid sway, dancing with a partner who isn’t there at all. 

 Alcina herself stands with her eyes closed and her head tilted up, perhaps imagining herself at another place and in another time entirely.  For the first time in a while she looks to be at peace. And just when he thinks that the song is reaching its peak, it reaches its end. He resents that it had been so short. The air is still charged with energy several minutes after the last ghost of a note tapers off down the hallway. Still charming even now that the room is fully silent. 

 Her hands fall back to her sides and she opens her eyes. Daniela gives several absurdly loud claps and Bela bolts upright with a disgruntled grumble. The Duke stands up and stretches, “it’s always a pleasure to do a number with you, Lady Dimitrescu.” He clicks his tongue. “A lovely voice for a lovely lady.”

 She clears her throat, “thank you Duke.” 

 “Why did you stop singing?” Ethan asks.

 She furrows her brows. “Mother Miranda says that it is a waste of time.” 

 The more he hears of that woman, the more he resents her. “Do you enjoy singing?” 

 Alcina hums as she ponders the question, that in itself is answer enough. Finally she nods, “well enough, yes.” 

 “Then it isn’t a waste of time.” Ethan flashes her a smile. “It makes your girls happy too.” 

It makes him happy.

[ahsokasanity]

Chapter Four

Notes - more spoilers, so don’t read this if you’ve not done ACOSF. Mostly from Az’s POV. Isn’t it about time we talked about Az and Elaine?! In case you missed the beginning Chapter One

Azriel avoided Elain. He spoke business to Rhys and he tried to smile with Feyre, if only because he didn’t know for how long he would be able to do that. It was lucky that he spent his whole life in subterfuge and was able to speak little to steer clear of topics that had been swept under the rug. Feyre didn’t notice. They had always had an easy if not intimate relationship. Elain on the other hand…

It had been weeks since Solstice and that near mistake. It was even more glaringly a mistake as he sidestepped any invitations to the River House and more so from ever being alone with Elain. She was often in the garden so he without fail arrived at the front door. When he met with Rhys it was in his office and Azriel knew that Elain rarely frequented that area of the house. Rhys was silently pleased and encouraged Az in all of his spying and chaperoning of Nesta and Cassian (now that was a title that held no responsibilities!). They found themselves able to work around Azriel’s crushing need to try to get eyes and ears on Briallyn, and Rhys’s absolute no on that endeavour.

When Az flew toward the River House that day, he was high. As in emotionally high. The three longest term trainees had cut the ribbon, all three in the one day. Valkyries indeed. Gwyn had made the break through first and he knew without question that the impromptu lesson during Solstice had given her the tools and the courage to be first. Her success radiated through him as she let Nesta tie the ribbon around her forehead. She’d lifted her chin in his direction and winked. She winked at him! Yes, yes, of course it was a student teacher type interaction, it was not wreathed in innuendo nor suggestive in any way. He saw the person beneath peeking out from the robes and the trauma and he was knocked backwards by her grace.

It truly did not help that the glass rose swung free of her neckline and glimmered in the sun. Her hair was tearing free from it’s braid around her cheeks and the thrill of the conquest, the blush on her cheeks turned her into the most glorious creature. Az was used to this now. Every few days he’d catch a look or a moment of pure beauty from her and he’d file it away. He was not masturbating to his images of her and he thought of that as a good sign. The Sidra Salvation was becoming a regular stop during his week so the tightness and the angst were distant needs. The loneliness was a constant companion, but it was smothered often by his friends, his family their court and it’s demands.

So wrapped up was he in thoughts of training success, he did not see Elain standing by the lavender path leading to the front door. She was engrossed in her work but immediately he landed she stood and walked directly to him.

“Elain….. um hello” he stammered out

“You won’t talk to me and you never see me when you are here. What was so bad?” She dropped her gaze as if all the courage that it took to say those words had left her empty

Azriel pulled himself together and guided Elain to the bench seat alongside the house. It was out of sight of most of the windows and he could tell that Elain did not want anyone to see her like this. His past-self strained to take her in his arms, but the stronger better male was in charge now and he knew to support without overture was his job.

“I’m sorry Elain” Her name on his lips brought a sob to her mouth and she covered it with a shaking hand.

“I hoped to let you sort out these feelings without getting in your way, without making your decisions more difficult” He was finding this really difficult, her bottom lip was tight as she held tears

“But, you saved me. You were the only one who saw me. The only one who has seen me since I became this” She indicated her perfect fae form from toes to pointed ears.

“I promised Rhys” As soon as the words left his mouth AZ knew the hurt they would cause, the trouble.

Elain shook her head once, gritting her teeth “The mighty High Lord forbade you from what, being friends with me, from pursuing me? He enjoyed seeing the steel will under the stunning exterior. So rarely seen, so alluring.

Azriel did not extract himself from her tight grip but he knew that for himself, for Elain to get past this point, she needed the truth and nothing less. Even if it wounded him, wounded her. No good could come from mincing around these basic fae instincts, the mating bond, the trouble between courts.

“Elain you have to listen and you have to know that I do not say this to hurt you, even though I know it might. This is important”

She nodded, but her eyes cast down, tears leaking from each.

“There is no law that says that every party involved must accept the mating bond..”

“Oh, THIS again” Elain went to stand. Azriel clutched her hands tighter

“Yes Elain, THIS again. Because it will not go away. Not ever. No matter how far you go or how much you avoid it. You will feel it. He will feel it and it will never go away”

She sobbed into his hands, hers tightening and releasing. “I know. I know”

Az blew out a breath and stroked her hair. She stiffened and he smiled

“Just supporting, not seducing” he stared at her and she lifted the corners of her mouth.

“I am just so sick of life doing things to me. Without me. Losing Feyre, becoming rich again, being betrothed to Graysen” (she said quietly) “Being kidnapped and then the cauldron, losing Graysen and my father” She drew a shaky breath.

“I wanted something else, something mine and my choice. I thought that you were my choice, and I might be yours” The last had been mumbled out of her mouth – a truth that she didn’t want to give up. Azriel’s chest cracked a little and he pulled her toward him.

He breathed into her hair “You would be, you could be - except for the bond”

Elain gasped and pulled away, nearly stood up.

“People keep telling me that it’s up to me if I accept it or not, I don’t have to like Lucien. I don’t have to be with him. I have no interest in being with him. Why won’t you fight for me?” She squared her shoulders and glared at him with what was decidedly a Nesta I will slay my enemies look. Exactly the conversation that Az had been trying to avoid for a month, since that stupid night, that ridiculous present that was all about wanting to be a part of something bigger than himself. And he had dragged her into this web, knowing full well the fall out would be massive.

“Please, wait and …and listen” Elain stalled her stomp off as he composed himself and spoke

“Everyone has been so careful around you, well not just you, we coset Feyre and we hide scary truths from each other (he thought of Mor) and we do it thinking that we’re doing right, helping. We are not helping you Elain. The truth of your life is that Lucien is in it. You have decisions to make, but I cannot offer you myself, I cannot create a civil war between our court and at least two others if I fight for you. I cannot disobey my high Lord” He nodded in truth and stroked her hand “No matter what our circumstances may have led us to do in the past. I like you Elain, I probably even love you as my High Lady’s sister, but to accept any relationship with you is a war starter and you know, it won’t even work for you to release the bond this way.”

“But Why, why Azriel” How many times had he thought about his name spoken by her, not with this edge of grief, but with joy like the night she’d given him the headache powder. He steeled his soul

“Because you need to explore the mating bond and not just by ignoring it and Lucien. I’m not one to extol his finer points but he does have them. Feyre might tell you some. Rhys and Mor might tell you others. You have to know that even I know, he was not a part of your kidnapping and definitely not a part of your being made Fae. Even before he knew you were his mate, he has never contributed to harm coming your way.”

If only for the fact that Elain had never heard Azriel speak so many words together, she believed him. She knew that her idealistic gardening, helping Velarisians, and ignoring the part of her life that needed growth itself, was over. Her consolation was Nesta and Feyre and their journeys through the dark to the light. She might be able to get there, to that immersion in life. The great, the sad, the truth of it. She knew they’d help. But she would have to tell them what she needed, not just avoid what she didn’t want.

They were both standing and she wrapped her arms around Azriel’s middle linking her fingers to cage him in for a little while

“Thank you. For telling me the truth, I don’t want it, but I probably needed it” She glanced up at him – Gods he was a fine figure even for a fae. She giggled to herself.

“How much trouble are you in if Rhys finds us?”

More Chapters? Try the Chapter Link

“I will wear it if you promise this is the beginning of our totally platonic, sister/brother hugs are allowed everything else is out of bounds relationship” He smiled a world lighting lifting of his usually neutral face and she nodded but held him tighter.

[bookandcover]

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe…they do! They really, really do! This was such a phenomenal book! It’s 1987 and narrator Ari is a 15-year-old Mexican American boy living in El Paso who feels perpetually misfit. He doesn’t understand how to relate to other boys his age; he doesn’t understand his father, silent and troubled after years of serving in Vietnam; he doesn’t understand his mother’s silence when it comes to his older brother who is in prison, but who might as well be dead. Then, his world is utterly changed when fellow 15-year-old Dante befriends him. Dante is many things Aristotle is not: in love with the world and his life, passionate about books and art, open about his feelings, affectionate with his parents, and Dante charges through life with a joyous innocence that extends from his love for all living things right down to his unwillingness to wear shoes outside.

I loved every page of this book, from the tough parts to the surprising plot twists to the stunning portraits of both boys’ relationships with each of their parents, to the glorious ending which felt like a rainstorm breaking over the desert Ari loves—a therapeutic release of emotion. First off, the writing and voice is beautiful and spot-on. Ari is our narrator and every word sounds like him. He’s troubled and stubborn, but also quiet and attentive. He has a strong sense of justice, a strong moral compass, and clever and sarcastic sense of humor. We know him, and through his eyes we know deeply the other pivotal figures in his life. Ari’s growth over the course of the novel is seamless, as is the growth of his relationships with the other characters. Let’s start with Dante. Dante is beautiful in Ari’s eyes and therefore in ours. His soul is beautiful. Just like Ari, we long to protect that innocence. A third of the way through the book, one of the significant plot twists is the back-to-back events of Dante announcing that he’ll be leaving El Paso for a year—his family is moving to Chicago for his dad’s one year sabbatical—and a car speeding in the rain nearly killing both Dante and Aristotle. Ari moves instinctively and shoves Dante out of the way. The car crushes his legs. I gasped aloud reading this section. It’s unclear for several pages if Dante has survived and what, exactly, has happened, as we experience these scenes with the full confusion and disorientation that Ari experiences. This is the first event that shifts Ari and Dante’s relationship. Dante is wracked by guilt and Ari tries desperately to move them past this, to equalize their light-hearted friendship once again.

Dante moves to Chicago, writes letters to Ari who only occasionally responds, and then moves back. Everything continues to change. Dante is no longer so innocent, but he is still as pure of heart. In true Dante fashion, he is not afraid of who he is and he tells Ari openly that he’s gay and that he likes boys. Ari, again, tries to hang onto the past, tries to keep their relationship the way it’s always been. Near the end of the book, their relationship changes again after another dramatic twist (although, perhaps both of these should have looked to us as inevitable, as they match the personalities of both characters) that leaves one of our favorite duo severely injured. This time, Dante is hospitalized, after he’s beaten up by a group of boys who see him kissing another boy. Ari goes on an emotionally-driven rampage in response. He confronts the boy who Dante was kissing and learns that Daniel fled while Dante faced up to the bullies (very true to character) and discovers the names of two of the four boys who beat Dante up. Furious, Ari goes to find one of these boys and fights with him, sending him to the hospital in turn. Both these events evidence Ari’s deep need to defend and protect Dante, and both events change Dante himself and the relationship between Ari and Dante.

Both events remove some of Dante’s lightness. He understands in different ways what’s at stake when he’s expressing his identity. He worries over telling his parents that he’s gay and he’s thrilled when his mom is pregnant again, insisting that the child needs to be a boy and he needs to love girls. After Dante is beaten up, the truth about his identity comes out, and his dad is saddened as he asks Ari why his son didn’t tell him, why he didn’t feel he could tell him the truth. While Dante is no longer quite so light-hearted, his strength in his convictions is never shaken. While these events are dramatic, it’s the slow disappointment of his unrequited love for Ari that is perhaps changing Dante the most. Dante tries for a long time to show Ari his love. He talks Ari into things, shares his drawings of Ari, kisses him, and eventually tells him how he feels. But, by the end of the book, we see the way the hopelessness of Dante’s love for Ari is aging him and saddening him. When, in the final scene, Ari starts to tell Dante of his feelings in return, Dante’s instinct is to draw back, to tell Ari that he can’t do this. Dante has been too hurt by the day-to-day pain of loving Ari and believing this love is not returned. Ari, on the other hand, has reached a place of openness in which love has become stronger than the boundaries he has always built around his heart. He has become more like Dante—more willing to wear his heart on his sleeve—and Dante has become more like Ari—more cautious, more aware that the world is not as magical as he believed it to be. Beautifully, these boys meet in the middle, somewhere between their two natures.

Ari’s character development feels like healing. He begins this book in a place of tension, with himself and with his family. It takes him a long time to uncover the truth: the truth of his heart and his feelings and his sexuality, the truth about his brother, the truth about his father, the truth about his mother, the truth about his aunt (who was queer and estranged from her extended family while accepted only by Ari’s immediate family)…As Ari peels back these layers seeking the truth he seems to be liberating himself. Interestingly, the truth about his brother is a truth he always knew he needed. He wanted to know what happened and why his parents didn’t speak of this. The truths he learns about his father and mother seem to be by-products of this central truth, or part of the natural process of growing up and discovering the complexity of one’s parents as people. The truth about himself seems to be the deepest layer, the hardest to uncover, but one that is tied to learning these other truths. I thought it was poignant that his father, always so silent and internal, is the one to tell Ari the truth about his feelings for Dante. That his father, who Ari has always perceived to hold so much inside, is able to bare his soul and tell his Vietnam story (the deep guilt he feels for having left a man behind to die, that this is what haunts him most) and then, in the same conversation, tell his son that he knows his son is in love with his male best friend seemed like the perfect parallel. It is somehow always easier to see the truth in someone else than in yourself. Ari’s mother’s unveiling of her heart is similar, as she tells Ari the truth that is hardest for her to face—the truth about Ari’s brother who was imprisoned for killing with his bare hands a prostitute he picked up who turned out to be a man—and after revealing this, she is there in agreement as Ari’s father reveals the hardest truth for Ari to hear. I loved how she shows her son that his hardest truth doesn’t need to continue to be painful, that he doesn’t need to feel ashamed, that he can heal fully, as she says “Ashamed of what? Of loving Dante?” In asking this question, she shows Ari that shame is so far from the way he should feel about love.

I don’t think I’ve ever read a book with a better characterization of the relationships between children and parents. These parents are incredible people. They are far from perfect, but they try so hard to understand their children and they love them so fiercely. Early in the book, Ari is closer with his mother than his father. His witty banter with his mom, who co-opts Ari calling her a fascist as a way to tease him, shows their similar ways of being in the world. But in nature, Ari is more like his quiet father who holds a whole war inside himself. Ari grows to realize the ways that his reluctance to take the truth out and look at it has echoes in his mother’s nature as well, and that his father might be more light-hearted than he’d assumed (he goes bowling regularly with Mr. Quintana). Dante, on the other hand, feels more early affinity for his father who is also funny and fun-loving and contrasted to his composed mother. Yet, we see how deeply Mrs. Quintana loves (I loved the moment where, after Ari saves Dante’s life in the car accident, Mrs. Quintana tells Ari that she will love him forever, and Ari knows that she means it), and we see how her moral conviction and weight is somehow like her son’s, as he matures into himself. Mrs. Quintana sees everything about Dante in a way his father does not; his father, who more often lives in the moment, is blind-sided to realize his son is gay and never told him. Both of Dante’s parents are rejuvenated by Mrs. Quintana’s pregnancy, and they behave like young lovers, as they take Ari’s truck for a spin. Their age difference with Ari’s parents is never closely commented on, but it’s something I thought about as a friendship square is foraged among the parents, and opened to include their sons. By the end of the novel, Ari feels like Dante does: he knows he loves his parents; he’s crazy about them.

I loved how, late in the book, we finally get the first names of Ari’s parents—Lilly and Jaime—when they have become, for him, fully realized beings and when they have, through their bravery in confronting their hardest truths, helped their son to confront his. I bawled through the penultimate scene of this book when Ari’s dad tells him about his time in Vietnam. I felt like Ari’s dad was showing him that the most painful regret was to leave someone behind, that leaving someone behind is what haunts you, and that he doesn’t want his son to leave someone behind…and that someone is himself, a version of his true self that Ari might have chosen to shut out from his life for so long that he would never be able to truly heal. Instead, because of the willingness of Ari’s parents to still grow and change as settled adults, to strive for more openness with their son, they teach Ari openness with himself. Ari is not his brother and they see him for who he is rather than projecting Bernardo onto Ari. Although, when he comes home after having beaten up Julian (Dante’s attacker), his parents show an instinctual fear that he is like his brother—using his hands for violence—and his father reacts punitively (“I’m selling your truck”) like he must have done to his brother, Ari is able to tell the truth of his motivations and his parents are able to slow down and see him. This is such a powerful testament to the ability of parents and children to grow into their relationships with each, a positive growth that requires change in both of them. The healing of Ari’s family, their blossoming closeness, forms the central arc of this novel. Yes, this is a love story. It is a story of Ari coming to terms with his sexuality and accepting his love for Dante. But, more fundamentally, it’s the story of his relationship with his family, because in healing themselves, they heal each other. I adored all of these characters and l didn’t want their stories to end. Ending the novel felt like saying goodbye to friends.

[clvmtines]

welcome aboard, clementine martinez, student #2. we are excited to set sail with you !  has anyone told you that you look like alexa demie? according to our records, you hail from florida, usa, prefer she / her pronouns, are a cis woman, and are here to study creative writing. we also see you received a spot on the ss university because of your online lottery win — we won’t tell anyone. during your first few weeks here, other students said you were + charming, + free-spirited, but also - restive. it sounds like you spend most of your time at the billiards room. upon checking your luggage, we noticed you packed a casino chip carried around for luck from home. hopefully your roommates don’t steal it!

hi friends! i’m very excited to be here. i’m jay (est, she/her) n i used to play astrid nyland a few months ago if anyone remembers bt i had to leave for personal reasons. i’m so glad to be back now that i hve life sorted and some free time for summer break <3 read on for some details abt this new muse of mine, clementine. 

01. biography !

so ! clementine was born in florida. & yes, her real name is clementine. her mom thot it was the cutest name idea ever. clementine mostly goes by clem. she comes from the town [redacted] in florida bcoz i am too lazy to look up a specific town <3 but alas ! it was swampy and humid and she lived in a trailer park. 

her parents got knocked up at nineteen. clem was born nine months after a particularly wild 1999 fourth of july. her birthday is march 26th and she’s an aries. 

(TW: addiction, child injury) clem’s dad was a gambling addict and petty criminal—he wld steal credit cards n whatnot. he wld gamble away diaper money n it would cause constant fighting until her dad finally left. her mom took this very hard n began drinking a bit too often, leaving clem to to make cereal for dinner n fend for herself. once clem tried to make hot dogs on the stove and spilled boiling water on herself. got a p bad burn on her arm/shoulder and still has a big scar.

the soundtrack of her childhood was cicadas buzzing and stray dogs barking. the sizzle and pop of natty light cans. turning up her ipod to max volume to drown out the sounds of her mother fighting with her new boyfriend.

throughout her upbringing, clem’s dad was always in and out of the picture. he’d blow into town when he hit it big. he’d take her on these little “adventures” like staying in a motel 6 n renting movies at block buster n ordering good pizza nt the dominos shit she ate with her mom lol. ofc he was charging it all to someone’s stolen credit card. he’d always promise to, like, take clem away. n clem was a daddy’s girl so she believed him. the last time it happened was her h.s. graduation. her mom didn’t show ( "overslept” after a bender ) but her dad did and surprised her n said everything wld be different. bt then he bailed on their plans for the next day n when she called his cell, the number was disconnected. tht was the defining “i’m done” moment. clem promised to never be disappointed by her father again.

(TW: racism) her mother has mexican ancestry and clem’s always been called her twin. but clem was raised in a predominately white area and honestly ?? it was really hard without her even realizing it. she’s still unpacking a lot of things today abt her youth that jst weren’t okay bt she thought were normal. like microaggressions, stereotypes, being fetishized by boys in high school. gross shit.

as a kid, clem was rumored to be really poor bc she wore tattered clothes n got free lunch at school. once she invited a friend to her house & the next day they told everyone it’s in a trailer park. that reputation—the “trailer park girl”—was really hard to shake. and clem got almost desperate to shake it. she was endlessly trying to set her old self on fire and emerge from the ashes like a phoenix.

eventually clem became more “popular”. in school she was, like, a straight b student. very average although super creative and quick-thinking. she always had street smarts. problem solving skills. independence. more of, like, practical intelligence as opposed to book smarts because academia bores her tbh. she was like why am i reading these overrated boring books by dead white men or learning abt polynomials when i know nothing abt how to pay a mortage or do taxes. like...she saw the american education system as bullshit and put in modest effort because she didn’t believe it deserved her sweat and tears. 

however, she entered the online lottery for the seas program on a whim and got in. so she’s studying creative writing now.

02. personality !

first thing you shld know abt clem is that she’s a compulsive liar essentially—she tells various stories to make her life seem better than what it was. to one person, she’s an heiress to a real estate company and grew up wealthy. to the next she was raised by nomadic hippies. some of her lies are small fibs while others are grandiose tales. she rarely talks about her actual upbringing. she hates talking abt her family or the v real trauma of growing up in a household where both parents struggled w/ addiction; the uncertainty, the broken promises, the fact that she had to grow up so soon and deal w/ so much. it wasn’t fair, and if she thinks about it too much, she feels this anger. anger at the universe. anger at her circumstances. she doesn’t know where to put this anger. she doesn’t know how to shrink it. so she avoids it.

despite her rough upbringing, though, clem is actually really sweet and kind. she’s adventurous, fun-loving, free-spirited, and bold. 

bt ! she can also be closed-off, competitive and restive. 

she’s seemingly tight with everyone? like she’s jst that girl who can get along with anyone tbh. 

in her spare time you can catch her tanning by the pool, hanging at the bar, playing pool ( which she learned from her dad ), and socializing. she’ll never say no to hanging out with people. 

she learned a lot from her little “adventures” with her dad, who was very good at conning others and often involved her in his dumb little scams. clem is suuuper good at pulling the ‘im baby 🥺’ card to get what she wants.

she can be a little selfish, because she grew up looking out for herself. 

stubborn and dogmatic as hell !!!

she doesn’t do too many relationships but when she does fall, i imagine she falls hard and fast. she refuses to be made a fool of, tho. when she gets vulnerable she flashes back to being a kid, waiting all day for her dad to show up only to have him bail on her. again. she hates that feeling. so if she, like, senses a shift in someone’s energy she’ll b like, “i’ll break up with u before u can do it to me” and the person wasn’t even tryna dump her lmao.

has a lot of sex. too much ?? sex?? mayb. but she’s v sex positive.

her personal style is v late 90s. hair clips, big scrunchies, neon, fur trim, crop and tube tops, hoop earrings, chokers, patterns, platform shoes, biodegradable glitter cuz it’s good fr the earth *winks*. clothes from o-mighty.......actually jst google o mighty, pull up the images and That is clem. she dresses like a bratz doll. she’s dedicated to the aesthetic.

03. headcanons !

her item brought from home is a hot pink poker chip from a casino. her dad gave it to her. he said it reminded him of her because of the color; he got it during one of his winning streaks and said it was lucky. she has a complicated relationship w/ her dad n doesn’t even speak to him anymore, bt she will never go anywhere without it.

she’s a smol bean—only 5′4

an astrology girl and she reads palms ! she absolutely makes astrology tik toks that people only watch because she’s hot. her flirting technique is to ask you to read your palm.

she doesn’t typically drink to get drunk. but she does love a good sugary cocktail. to her, a drink is like an accessory. a blue fishbowl by the pool, a jack and coke as she stands around a bar. usually she'll nurse the same beverage for a while. if you see her wasted it usually means she’s going thru it emotionally lol. the one thing she does do is drugs tho 

pretty much listens to exclusively female artists.

a bit of an activist. environmentalism, feminism and the like, she’s v outspoken. vegan for ethical reasons (TW: drugs) bt still does cocaine. she wears shirts with ‘my pussy my choice’ bedazzled on the front.

loves to rollerblade ! back home she didn’t have a car so she’d bike or rollerblade. now she still has her blades and she’ll use them when the ship docks. 

03. wanted connections !

Friends, bffs, ride or dies, friends who are like siblings to her, maybe a friend with an unrequited crush on either side ??

an ex she dumped/cheated on/otherwise self sabotaged their relationship because she was afraid of vulnerability.

an ex friend who realized she lies a lot abt herself n felt betrayed. OH ! ESP if they opened up to her on many occasions abt intimate, personal stuff. imagine the betrayal they felt when they found that everything they thought they knew abt clem is a lie.

someone who she actually opens up to. a confidant. or, maybe, like, a stranger she drunkenly spilled her soul to and now she avoids them like the plague.

a rival. clem can be competitive.

her drug dealer 

someone she knows she shouldn’t hook up with and… does it anyways. like a friend’s ex or smthing. spicy <3

i welcome anything !

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 08 | Critical Updates | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 07: You started seeing a guy that seemed great at first, but when he revealed his true colors, you found yourself heartbroken and feeling like the world’s biggest moron. If not for your friends’ intervention, you might feel twice as broken.

Your insecurities are now in the forefront of your mind but one man is determined not to let you dwell on them... Is this love?

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 15.4K

Series: Love Bytes (8/?)

Genre: Friends to lovers, IDIOTS to LOVERS, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, ANGST! pining, sexual tension, SMUT, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, IT/Nerd!Reader

CW: anxiety, sexual tension, angst, pining, sexual thoughts, language, grinding, Secondhand embarrassment, soft Namjoon feels, insecurities all around when things are the same but also very new, mutual masturbation, body worship, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, premature ejaculation, hickeys, accepting insecurities, let’s all just appreciate Namjoon’s hot bod ok, Namjoon said chill, Is This Love?

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7 masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Do not repost. A/N: There’s at least one more chapter, if not two! I hope this is enjoyable for you to read as it was for me to write. I pretty much worked my birthday weekend on it. Happy birthday from me to y’all for me since i thrive on pleasing others. <3 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I’m so stupid,” you sob into his shirt.

Namjoon cups the back of your head, wishing he could remove every ounce of pain, every insecurity Jihoon’s words left behind. He may have walked away, but the damage he’s caused makes Namjoon’s blood boil. He wants to chase after him; he wants to hurt him the way he’s hurt you; he wants to physically unleash every ache that has been stewing all night in his heart. But he wants to be there for you more than anything else. If he has to choose, it will always be you.

“You’re not stupid. You just have a big, stupid heart...” He hugs you even tighter. “...and it’s my favorite thing about you.”

You don’t mind the way your ribcage is crushed in his embrace. It soothes the sting radiating from your body. Also you’re lowkey wishing that your ribs will break and puncture your lungs so you don’t have to think about everything that’s happened tonight.

It’s almost like the sky can sense the heaviness in your mind, epitomizing the weight of your emotions by slowly turning the light rain at your back into a downpour that quickly soaks your shirt. As you pry your face away from the comfort of his chest, rain splatters across your face, mixing with the tears that have already ruined your painstaking application of makeup for the evening.

Jennie, Hoseok, and Taehyung exchange pitying smiles. Despite wanting to comfort you, they know this moment isn’t meant for them and they slowly head back towards the entrance to the building. Jungkook stands firm with his arms crossed, completely engrossed in the way Namjoon comforts you, the way you stare at him, the way you clearly love each other. It’s like watching his favorite television drama, only better because it’s reality. It’s two of his favorite people finally navigating their feelings after an emotionally charged night. Are you going to kiss in the rain?

“We should get you home,” Namjoon mumbles, keeping his palms on your shoulders.

Droplets trickle down his forehead, dripping from his eyelashes as he blinks. He tries to ignore the chill of the rain soaking through his shirt, but the longer you both stand here like morons, the colder it becomes.

“I don’t want to go home,” you whisper with a shake of your head, knowing full well you will lock the door, turn off your phone and just wallow in self pity until you’re forced to leave bed and go to work on Monday. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Please.”

“You’re never alone.” A sad smile spreads across his face. “You have all of us.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The sadness in his lips disappears and he laughs, running his hands down the slick sides of your arms until he runs his fingers along yours. Time seems to slow as you pout at him, heart racing in your chest as your wet fingers slip against each other. Your palms clamp together with a wet squelching sound.

“If you don’t want to go home, do you want to…” he starts slowly, as if he’s afraid of your answer.

You’ve come over before but you’ve never spent the night at his place. He’s the one who always crashes on your couch, not the other way around. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Just ask.

“...come over my place instead?”

You smile as you nod and give his hands a reassuring squeeze. Pressing your face into the crook of his neck, you shyly ask the question on your own mind. “Will you please hold me tonight, too?”

Hoseok turns around with a gasp, realizing Jungkook isn’t with them. He quickly runs back to grab him by the ear. “Jungkookie you’re going to ruin everything. Let’s go,” he hisses, dragging him back towards the club.

Even in the rain, he catches the puffy, reddened nature of Jungkook’s eyes before the younger man wipes at them. Combining that with the proud grin and the way he refuses to remove his gaze from the pair of you even as he’s being pulled away, Hoseok rolls his eyes. What a baby. Before he can tease him for being sensitive, Jennie is already chastising him.

“What the fuck, Jungkook? Give them some space.”

“Aww, I just wanted to watch a little longer,” Jungkook whines even as Taehyung is shaking his head at him. “I was hoping to see a little more action.”

“Don’t be a perv.” Jennie pinches his arm hard and he whimpers. But for the first time she notices the glossy texture in his eyes. "Are you crying?"

Jungkook scoffs, pushing past her. "What are you, crazy?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The drive had been quick. Thankfully, Namjoon doesn't live very far from that particular club. Between your emotional state of mind and the severity of the rain assaulting your windshield, you’re not sure you could have safely made a longer drive. You step into the elevator, Namjoon’s hands guiding you inside. His arms wrap around your torso, attempting to cut off the chill soaked into both of your clothes as the doors slowly close.

“You okay, Geeksquad?” His words sound distant, despite the fact that he’s close to your ear.

“Yeah… Yeah!” You try to sound chipper but all you manage is to showcase the fact that you’re not. You purse your lips together, knowing that was pathetic. Hugging your arms over his, you spare a glance at him. The incredulous expression on his face is killing you.

“Don’t let him get inside your head,” he says, armed with the knowledge of how much damage those toxic thoughts can do.

“He was right.” Your voice breaks the second you speak, even as you try to keep the tears in.

Namjoon shakes his head before dropping his chin to your shoulder. “No. He couldn’t be more wrong about you. You’re funny and kind and beautiful. That fool didn’t deserve to be breathing the same air as you.”

You let your chin drop to your chest, nuzzling your nose beneath his arm. “I’m boring. I work with computers because I like it. I like to watch movies and do nothing all day. I like video games and sitting on my butt playing through stories I could never dream of. I like to sit in parks and space out for hours staring at the sky. I know it doesn’t make for great conversation. How do I defend against that? He’s right. I am boring. I’m a loser.”

You pause to sniffle, finding that the words just won’t stop coming. “And that makes me desperate for anyone to see past the layers and love the person inside. Just like he said. I know I have more to offer and I want people to see it. It’s just so hard to show anyone why I matter, why I should be considered, when all I see when I look at myself is the same timid marching band geek I’ve been since high school.

“Bullied. Passed over. Cheated on, then dumped for someone prettier. Too nervous to say hi. Too shy to say how I really feel out loud. I mean, I have eight friends and most of them I only have because of you. Most people wouldn’t willingly get to know me without an ulterior motive and I was stupid to think otherwise. To top it all off, I’m barely a six. Barely average. I mean when you put it all together, it makes sense why nobody has ever loved me.”

Namjoon is quiet, pressing his cheek against yours and listening to the uneven breaths you take. “You deserve to see how amazing you are. All those things you think make you a loser, or unworthy of love, they’re ingrained in your DNA. They’re a part of you and you can’t cover it up, and you shouldn’t. These things are little pieces of you that are beautiful fractions of the person I know. You think no one has ever loved you, but you don’t know how other people think or feel. Sometimes we’re all too shy, too scared to say the things we really want to say.”

He licks his lips and breaks his hug, planting his hands on your shoulders and spinning you towards him. “I’ve seen you, everything you are. Every last wonderful fractal of your soul shines, even in the dark and I…” He blinks slowly, his heart caught in his throat. “...want to be the prism in your light. I want to capture the beauty of your soul and reflect it back at you. But I need to open your eyes so you can see the way I do.”

Your heart skips a beat as his palms warm the wet clothing at your shoulders. How can he take words and make them into such beautiful things? Trembling beneath his touch, you wipe the tears from beneath your eyes and bring a shaky palm to his cheek, thumb sliding between his nose and his cheekbone.

“You think too much of me,” you choke out with a laugh, cutting the tension in the space between you.

He shakes his head again, nuzzling into your touch with a laugh. This feels… right.

“Before I knew you, my heart was only filled with straight lines,” he mumbles.

Your brow furrows, but your stomach does a flip within the confines of your body. Did you hear him correctly? “Namjoon?”

“Your imperfections make you human, like me. I’m just a human,” he takes a deep breath, courage surging in his veins when he locks eyes with you. “You erode all my edges and make me into love.”

You forget how to breathe, legs threatening to buckle out from beneath you. The trembling in your hands has spread and it’s impossible to attribute it to the waterlogged clothes on your body. Your jaw quivers, unable to find the words to speak. You’re worried you’ll undo every beautiful phrase the man before you has uttered if you open your mouth now.

“We’re humans in that myriad of straight lines. My love,” he whispers in a low breathy tone, taking your hands and placing them over his chest. “Sit on top of it and it becomes a heart.”

You stand with your shaking hands stacked over his heart, too scared to move. His lips part as his brown eyes open wide, unsure what else needs to be said. Did he make it too complicated? He thought it was poetic. Maybe his final draft needs more work. He knots his eyebrows and tries again.

“You say that no one loves you, but then you don’t know how I feel. I love the things you don’t like about yourself. I love the things you do. I love the things you’ll never know or see. Your charm, your wit, your jokes, your laugh, your smile… All your layers. All your beauty. Physical, emotional, all of it. I love it. I love you.”

His tongue wets his lips despite how dry his mouth feels and he swallows, waiting for a response. Was it too blunt this time? Was it too simple? You’re still just staring at him with your mouth hanging open, unmoving. He really hopes that this moment passes quickly. If you’re really uncomfortable he will let you have his bed and he will sleep on his own couch, but he has to know one way or the other and the silence in the elevator is maddening.

The truth of it is that your mind needs to reboot and process. He’s so eloquent that you feel stuck trying to construct a response that feels adequate. It feels like someone pulled the power cord out before you were finished shutting down and fired your system back up with the press of a button. The fans are spinning but the motherboard still needs a minute. Slowly your hands move up towards his shoulders, trailing a path up his neck and come to rest on either side of his face with your thumbs curled underneath his jaw.

Namjoon tries to beat back the hope bubbling in his gut, worried something else is going to happen. Something will change. Something will interrupt. It always does. Or this isn’t what he thinks at all and you’re about to give him the softest, most heartbreaking letdown of his existence. He panics and freezes, waiting for the ache in his heart to amplify.

Words aren’t so good right now, but actions speak louder anyway, right? Gathering every last speck of courage you can, you close your eyes and lean forward to bring your lips to his. The sensation sparks fireworks in your brain, your stomach rumbling with a heat that makes your heart feel like it’s a hot air balloon taking off and your torso is floating away from your legs.

By the time Namjoon’s brain catches up to the realization that you’re kissing him, his hands are already at your back and in your hair, desperately pulling you closer to him to expand on what you’ve offered. He immediately dips his tongue inside your mouth, feeling you, tasting you, finally having you. You’re kissing him. You’re actually kissing him now. Is this a dream he’s about to awaken from?

His back hits the wall of the elevator when you fall towards him and you mumble an apology against his lips, but he simply grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth back down, sliding his tongue against yours. A throaty moan replaces the words of reassurance he means to say. He wants to commit the feeling of your lips to memory and he's well on his way when the doors slide open.

It would have been fine if you both didn't act like getting caught was the most embarrassing thing in the world, bouncing to opposite ends of the elevator like ping pong balls. The young woman entering purses her lips and shifts uncomfortably as she looks from you to Namjoon. She settles her gaze on the floor and presses the button for her destination, reminding you both that you haven’t left the ground floor.

You press your forehead into the wall and find an interesting spot to stare at. Namjoon awkwardly shuffles forward and finally presses the button with the "8" above it. You all wait in painful silence for the woman's stop.

Ding… Ding... Ding... Ding.

The doors open and the girl scurries out as quickly as possible. Namjoon clicks the close button multiple times, wishing the technology would respond faster to his touch. The doors close just as he looks over at you, quickly crossing the space and turning you by your shoulders to face him.

"Geeksquad."

Leaning against the wall, you shamefully drag your eyes to his, wincing as his thumb grazes the welt beneath your shirt.

"Shit, sorry," he whispers, carefully sliding his fingers down your arms until they rest at his sides.

Ding.

"No, no. It's fine. Just… Please." Shaky fingers reach for the back of his neck, coaxing him to move back towards you.

Ding.

He places his palms on the wall beside your head, leaning into your touch with a heavy exhale.

"Please, what?" The question escapes with a cracked whimper. You're driving him insane.

"Please don't stop touching me tonight." The words you've chosen are far more sinful than either of you anticipate.

But if you're honest?

Ding.

His reaction makes it worth it.

As the doors open you're panting against his ear, eyelids fluttering to catch the glint of metal reflecting the light from the hall. Namjoon is busy coating your neck and jaw in sloppy open-mouthed kisses, growling against your skin when you weakly claw at his shoulders to get his attention. He suppresses the urge to grind his throbbing cock against you and instead starts sucking bruises into your neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh. If he teases you enough, will you do the same to him?

As light as your head feels from the high of his tongue massaging the tension from your body, you tug at his hair. He's not going to move without some prompting but you really don't want to spend the night in the elevator.

"Door. Door. Door," you repeat with a breathless whine.

He grabs your hips, walking you towards the exit as the doors begin to slowly slide together. He sticks his hand out just in time to catch the sensor, parting the barrier before it can completely shut. Okay, Namjoon. Control yourself. Few more steps. Get into the apartment.

"Sorry. Got carried away," he says, giving the blossoming color on your neck a nervous glance.

You shake your head at him and offer a goofy grin. "Please get carried away more often, preferably somewhere less public."

He forces his hands away from their perch on your hips and instead twines your fingers in his as he leads you down the hall.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You slip your arms through the oversized white t-shirt he’s given you, the fabric stopping just above your knees to act as a makeshift nightgown. There have been multiple times you’ve teased him for owning clothes that are easily four times his size, but for once you’re thankful for it. Your wet clothes hang over the sliding door to the shower and you use the damp, dark material to rub the remainder of makeup off your eyes. It’s dirty anyway.

Holding the sweatpants he’s provided, you purse your lips in contemplation and stare at the doorknob. Do you even bother putting them on? The shirt you’re wearing covers plenty. You debate taking your panties off because those are wet too, but for an entirely different reason.

Sparing a glance at your reflection, you quickly realize you can see the faint circles of your nipples poking out from beneath the shirt. The material is so worn down that it’s almost sheer, the once black band decal on the front now a faded gray. A blush warms your face as you wonder if this was a carefully selected garment for his own benefit.

Despite the anxiety in the back of your mind telling you that you’re completely unfuckable, Namjoon’s affirmations of love sit in the front row of your brain, replaying like a song you can’t get enough of. Your lips are still swollen from the hungry way he kissed you and you drag them over your teeth as you consider how fucking good it felt to finally give in to the devil on your shoulder.

You stare yourself down as two peaks form beneath the sheet of white over your chest. Just the t-shirt it is. You’ve never been more thankful to have preemptively shaved your legs for a date in your life.

As you pull the door open, your mind is replaying the hottest moment in your life: the way he had you pressed against the wall of the elevator. Reality smacks you in the face in the form of his massive chest. He bashfully apologizes, looking you up and down with a warm smile before swallowing hard and slipping past you.

The door closes behind him and without his gaze on you now, you’re left with increased feelings of anxiety. Clutching your elbows, you wander into his bedroom, hoping to silence the noise in your head by dramatically flopping into his bed.

As you wait for Namjoon, you get comfortable on the pillows, turning your body to one side as you watch rain assault the large window nearby. A shiver runs through you, reminding you how much of a chill is still left in you from the rain. You’re regretting not putting on the sweatpants now as the t-shirt rides up over your thighs, so you bury yourself beneath the plaid duvet, sliding your legs against the soft cotton sheets beneath and curling the material around your face.

The light in the room dims. The flash of blue and purple catches your eye, a tiny projector firing up across the room with a soft hum. You follow the light it casts to the soothing presence of slow-moving stars twinkling on the ceiling. The soft glow of orange LED candles on the nightstand beside the bed contrasts the calming sight above you in a way that makes you feel warm and safe, even though nothing has changed in terms of temperature or security.

You smile in disbelief at the breathtaking galaxy as Namjoon shuffles under the covers beside you, never taking his eyes off you.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, mouth hanging agape as you watch stars twinkle in and out of existence.

You reach up as if to touch the sparkles above, knowing that the action is as useless as reaching for the stars outside; it’s an optical show of light refracting against glass, but it’s still so fucking pretty that you allow yourself to pretend for just a moment that you can feel a galaxy at your fingertips.

“Yeah?” he asks with a laugh, looking at something far more perfect than the lights dancing across the ceiling.

He props his head up with a folded elbow, taking in the childlike wonder on your face with a grin of his own. He’s spent many nights falling asleep under this fabricated sky, but it’s never felt as magical as it does now with you beside him. How cheesy would it be to tell you that? Should he say it? Would you love it? He decides he doesn’t want to ruin the moment with his corniness.

“I used to camp a lot in my backyard when I was little. Fell asleep under the stars a lot.” He reaches for your hand, drumming his fingertips over your knuckles. “When I grew up I found it hard to sleep when I couldn’t see them.”

“Surprised you haven’t broken this projector,” you tease with a grin, curling his fingers over your hand.

“Yeah.” He laughs. “It’d be okay if I did though. I don’t need that universe to sleep anymore.”

“Really?” You look over at him, the orange glow of the candle framing his head like a halo.

He nods with a smile, going for all the cheese he missed earlier. “‘Cause I got youniverse.”

You cup your hand around his jaw and you shake your head even though you’ve got the biggest grin on your face. “You’re so fucking corny, oh my god. You’ve been spending too much time with Seokjin.”

“No, see it’s double funny because--”

“Joonie, I got it,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes with that big goofy grin splitting your mouth wider.

He feels the need to further explain, digging a hole to put the rock he’s about to die on. “Because it can be taken like you are the center of my youniverse. But also you’ll fix it probably and you can call it yours--”

Your lips press against his, muffling the sound of any further explanation, extinguishing the blazing trail of thoughts, turning them into hazy stacks of steam that threaten to pour out his ears. He prays if this is a dream that he doesn’t wake up. Knowing what your lips feel like when you’re kissing him, how soft they are, the motions your jaw makes, the way you taste, means he can’t go back to pretending like he doesn’t.

His eyes open in time to catch your satisfied expression as you place a palm over his chest and press him flat against the bed.

"How have I never noticed?" you ask, losing yourself in his handsome, dimpled smile.

"Hmm?" He folds one arm behind his head while trailing his fingers across your forearm. He's a little distracted by the way his favorite shirt slips away from your chest just enough to expose a bit of your collarbone.

"How much you feel like home," you respond, cupping his face with your hands.

He licks his lips, pretending to tuck hair behind your ear just so he can use the excuse to rest his palm on your cheek. "Must have been that firewall you're always talking about. What, did you decide it was time for it to come down?"

"Pfft. No. Firewall is in full effect," you say, resisting the urge to explain how whitelisting a program works and the comparison it draws to your love life. "Just… For everyone except you."

You reach over his body, leaning across him to grab your phone from the nightstand as you maintain eye contact. It takes the full remainder of his self control to keep his hands to himself as your tits squish against his chest. From the devilish glint in your eye and the teasing flick of your tongue over your lips as you brush your nose against his, he knows it's a purposeful action.

You navigate to Tinder as you rest your head beside his, angling the phone towards him so he can watch. You open the app and ignore the unread messages in favor of hitting the account settings.

"I'm an idiot for ever downloading this app," you mumble, pressing the link to delete your account. The prompt on screen asks if you're sure, citing loss of conversations, matches, profile data, literally everything as unrecoverable once you agree. You've never been more sure about anything in your life.

Just like that your profile is gone and after a few seconds, so is that awful app. You press the power button to turn the screen off and look over at him.

"You're everything I want." You begin brushing your fingers through his hair. "I was too stupid to figure that out on my own. I shouldn't have needed an app to realize that, but I guess sometimes I need a little help getting out of my own head.”

You reach over him again to put your phone back on the nightstand, this time hovering instead of pressing into him because suddenly you feel shy. You’re not just latching on to some random person. This has been brewing for some time now and it’s clear now that it can’t be anyone. You may be desperate to be loved but that stems from you loving and being afraid to admit it, to be loved in return by the object of your unsung affections. He’s already done the hard part. Can’t you just do one thing right and gather your courage for once in your life?

"I love you."

The words somehow feel natural and terrifying at the same time. Your body betrays the bravery in your tone by allowing your arms to quake as your palms sink into the mattress beside him. Even though he's the one that said it first, doubt creeps in your mind. What if he was just caught in the moment?

He doesn't allow your thoughts the time they need to splinter into a thousand more. Goosebumps break out over your body as his arms wrap around your back, slowly pulling you down into a chaste kiss.

"I knew I loved you a long time ago. I knew it when you bailed my ass out of trouble even though it broke your finances to the point you started biking to campus to keep from spending on gas. Yes, I knew, and yes, I still think you’re a fool for stretching yourself so thin... I knew it when you agreed to meet my friends and made them all fall in love with your soul the same way that I did. I knew it when I started binging movies with you and falling asleep on your couch, wishing I was holding you instead." His words are soft as he hugs you close to him, trying the soothe the tremors causing your body to involuntarily vibrate. "But I only accepted it recently, so I guess I'm twice the idiot you claim to be."

You laugh, rolling your forehead across his as you brush noses. "Is that so? I'll remember that the next time you bring up that IQ of yours."

He smiles, planting another innocent kiss on your lips before murmuring, "Wow. The disrespect is real."

You giggle, taking the opportunity to roll off him. "Sorry, should I be nicer to you now?"

"Don't you dare," he laughs, sitting up and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. "Do you mind? I'm gonna overheat otherwise. Central air can only do so much."

You shake your head and the material slips over his head, exposing pectorals that are bigger than expected. Your mouth waters as you take in the sight of his dark golden skin and two rigid brown nipples in the low light. You're already scanning the moles between them, trying to form an invisible constellation that you might count yourself lucky enough to run your tongue across later.

You bite your lip as he balls the shirt up and launches it across the room because for the first time you're actually able to process how fit he is. The skin of his stomach is firm and smooth, lined with a fine trail of hair that disappears into his sweatpants. His arms are bigger than you remember them being and it spawns the memory of how good they feel wrapped around your back.

Suddenly you're grateful for the underwear you kept on because it's easier to hide the soaking nature of your folds when there's something to help absorb it. He settles in beside you, breathing a sigh of relief at the cool air touching his skin. You look towards the ceiling, trying to pretend you weren't just ogling his perfect body, but you're a second too late. He catches the longing expression and the subtle smack of your thighs clamping together.

"Geeksquad," he mockingly chides with a surprised laugh. You bury your face in the blankets as he grins, drawing you towards his obscenely hot chest.

It's not fair. How is he so hot so suddenly? You can't even think. Doesn't he know he can't just magically become hot the moment you admit to being in love with him? That's not how this is supposed to work.

"Oh, did I embarrass you?" he teases.

You pull the bedsheet up his chest, creating a layer between your cheek and the source of your shame before covering your head with the duvet.

"Rude," you mumble against the fabric.

He slowly uncovers your head and you glare at him even as he squeezes your body close to his. He presses his lips to your forehead and you melt into a puddle.

"You don't have to stop thirsting just because I called you out. It's cute and I'm not used to it. That's all."

"Oh no. I can't hear you. I am asleep," you say, despite your eyelashes fluttering as you inhale the calming musk he emanates.

He clicks his tongue. "I can feel you blinking."

"No."

He can't help but grin at the familiar scenario. "How are you gonna tell me no? I feel it."

"No," you whine again, this time turning your face into his chest to smile.

His fingers trail paths up and down your arm and you feel yourself already beginning to doze.

"Joonie?"

"Hmm." It sounds like he’s in the same boat.

"Thank you," you mumble.

His sleepy response is delayed. "For what?"

"Being my home."

He hums a sleepy note of affirmation and you hug him as tightly as you can muster, feeling his hand playing with your hair before allowing sleep to claim you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Muted light floods the room as heavy raindrops barrage the window. The sky is a dark grey so it's not like daybreak presents a horrible wakeup call. Still you glare daggers at the half-drawn navy curtains. It's not far. You reason that you can get up, close them, and be back in bed before Namjoon even stirs.

The heavy arm wrapped around your waist makes it difficult to want to move. Instead of peeling him off of your body, you find yourself nuzzling into the arm beneath your cheek and folding your fingers over the ones nearly tucked beneath your hip. You inhale deeply, trying to use the memory of his scent as incentive. On exhale you slip out from beneath him and slide the curtains closed as quietly as possible, allowing a dull darkness to coat the room. Carefully using your hands to navigate your way back to your spot, you feel along the mattress for his hand but it’s nowhere to be found.

As you wiggle back into place, his arm comes down over your waist to envelop you in a tight embrace. “Thanks for closing that.”

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum, closing your eyes even though the light airy feeling in your chest makes it impossible to drift off. You want to feel him against you like this forever. Missing out on the heated sigh against your ear, the covetous pull of his arm against your body, and the solid mass of his chest pressing into your back would be a crime.

“Namjoonie, are you going back to bed?” You turn your face towards him and he lifts his head to look at you.

“Are you?” The words are barely above a whisper, but cracked and rough, still thick with the grogginess of slumber.

The fan of reality begins to spin its blades of clarity, clearing the fog of sleep from your brain. Is this real? Is everything you remember real? You’re here in Namjoon’s bed, wearing his t-shirt, wishing you never have to leave. You’d wager it is. His dark brown irises disappear behind the heavy shades of his eyelids and reappear slowly as he takes in the beautiful wonder in your expression.

“I don’t think I can,” you admit, smoothing back the hair falling in his face.

He leans into your touch, letting his eyes close. You allow your palm to slide down his cheek and he turns his head to press his lips against it as it descends to cup his chin.

“Me neither,” he murmurs, slowly turning his slightly more alert eyes back to yours.

Why do I feel so nervous? We kissed. He told me he loved me. I told him I loved him. The hard part is over. I wanna do it again. So why do I feel like I’m gonna throw up? Why can’t I bring myself to move?

The longer you stare into his eyes, the more terrified you feel. Frozen in place, you begin the mental gymnastics you’ve grown accustomed to performing while thinking about him. Last night was emotionally charged. Maybe he was swept up in the moment. Did he really mean what he said? Maybe he was trying to make you feel better. Maybe now that it’s morning he regrets everything. Maybe that look in his eye is pity and you just want it to be awe.

He’s too good for you. He’s always been too good for you. Isn’t that the real reason you’ve never entertained this idea for longer than a millisecond? Because if you drop every defense mechanism you have and let yourself be raw with him, he’ll see he deserves far better. He’ll leave. The way he takes care of you, talks with you after bad days, assures you when your confidence wanes, massages your shoulders when he reads your tense body language, it’s all too good for you and he deserves someone who can do the same for him. But god. You still want it. You still want him. You’ve been ungrateful and clueless, but you can’t stop yourself from being selfish. How can he accept you being subpar when he consistently goes above and beyond for you?

“You’re holding your breath,” he comments, already aware you’ve got something big caught in the cogs of your brain.

You turn your head away to exhale, forcing a laugh. “You’re lucky. I’m sparing you my morning breath.”

As soon as your hand leaves his chin and it looks like you’re about to roll away, he makes the split second decision to catch your wrist. “Maybe I want it.”

“Don’t be gross Joonie.” You don’t dare look at him because you know you’ll only wilt under his gaze, but you allow yourself to be guided back against the safety of his chest.

“What? I’m dead serious,” he replies, releasing your wrist in favor of gliding his fingertips gently down your side. His gut is living in turmoil, preparing itself for the moment you say you want to call it off, that you want to forget everything again and pretend like nothing happened. He knew it was coming. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. Breathe.”

You want to tell him everything you’re thinking but the words won’t form. You take a deep breath in through your nose, choke on the exhale and flop your body around to face him.

“You can tell me. It’s okay. I’ll still be here. It’s okay.” The pit in his stomach threatens to pull tears from his eyes but he holds them in, rubbing your back instead and fighting the sickness building in his throat.

“I’m selfish, Joonie.”

The words are broken as they escape you and that stone in his stomach wrenches every last bit of dread it can from the dark tendrils around his heart, causing it to sink. He doesn’t speak. He can’t. He’ll break too. You’re crying as you look up at him and he feels himself cracking, falling to pieces in the moments between your words. Last night was too good to be true. He swallows and dons a mask of stone.

You swallow down the fear and embarrassment stinging your cheeks as you lay here trying to gradually pry your heart out of your chest for him. He waits with an unreadable expression, suffering without allowing a single complaint to pass his lips, despite your frequent hesitation. How does he have so much patience for you?

“You’re so good to me all the time. You know what I need before I do. And I… want to be that good for you. But I don’t know how.” A choked sob makes its way out and you stutter out an apology before continuing.

“You deserve someone who can pick up on things the way you do. I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you… but I want to be. I want to be so badly.” You sniffle, sucking in the snot threatening to drip from your nose. “I know it’s selfish, but please. Let me try to be half as good to you as you are to me. I know I’m a mess but I promise I’ll do my best. But I’m scared...” You swipe at your tears as his hand settles on your back, unmoving.

“I’m scared you’ll think I’m not worth the effort. Spending the night with you like this… Finally letting go of my fear... it was pretty much everything I’d been dreaming of for weeks, but now I just feel guilty because it's like I'm waking up next to an actual Saint and… you’re waking up next to a mess of a human. I’m sorry that I’m not… " You search for the perfect word, but fall short, just like you always do. "... better.”

A relieved laugh bubbles from his throat. “Oh wow. Me? A Saint?” Another string of laughter follows. “Is that what you’re worried about? Do I need to start teasing you again? Will that help?"

He pokes your side and you squeak. As much as he wants to pull more of the same sound from you by digging his fingers into your side, the urge to reassure you is stronger.

"I told you being messy is human nature. I mess up all the time… I’m just a human,” he says, smiling as he lifts your chin so you meet his glossy-eyed gaze. “...You erode all my edges and make me into love.”

He said that last night too. What else was it he said? It was so poetic but you’re struggling to remember. You grab his hand and press it to your chest. The t-shirt is a little wet from your tears, but it’s warm from the heat swirling in your chest. You hope he can feel your heartbeat beneath his palm.

“Something, something… and it becomes a heart?” you ask with a sheepish grin and a sniffle.

“Something like that,” he laughs, causing the tears wading in his eyes to crash down against his cheeks. “Listen. I didn’t fall for you because I want you to be some pinnacle of perfection placed on a pedestal. I fell for the you that you are. Every flaw is just another part I love. You’re... a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them. Seeing you as you are and not who you pretend to be… It’s more than I can express. But ‘I love you’ comes close.”

All the noise in your head scatters in different directions as he sweeps a path of clarity through your thoughts with his words. Your heart swells with the big inhale you take, causing his hand to rise with your expanding chest.

He pauses to roll his eyes and cut the tension. “At least not in this case. Trust me. If anyone’s selfish, it’s me.”

“You? Really? I don’t believe that. You're always too good to me. There's no way.”

You smile at the adoring look in his eyes, melting into a puddle when soft dimples form just outside his lips. How did you manage to not fall for so long? You look down at the shape of those luscious, velvety smooth lips spreading wide to expose a set of beautiful teeth. Your tongue absentmindedly swipes along your mouth as you try to purge thoughts of how good they felt nipping at your neck last night. As you swallow and bring yourself to focus on his eyes, he grins wider. You really have to work at being less obvious because this whole getting caught ogling him thing is becoming increasingly more embarrassing.

“Mmm. I think you’ll find I’m very selfish because I don’t want to share...” he trails, bowing to rest his forehead against yours. “I want to keep you to myself. Morning breath and all.”

Tingling goosebumps ripple across your body like an electric chill as you slip your hand around the back of his neck and shiver. You're pretty sure you have the biggest, dumbest grin on your face. When did you become so fucking smitten? “It’s yours then."

Allowing your head to drop back against the pillow, you gently encourage him to chase your lips, twirling locks of his hair in your fingers.

"I'm yours," you correct yourself with a whisper, need filling the cracks that uncertainty doesn't cover. "If you want me? Please say you want me still."

He uses the opportunity to slip his arm out from underneath you and uses it to prop himself up. His long fingers curl around your jaw and he tilts your chin up as he moves in closer. He pauses to skim his lips over yours before he speaks those reassuring words. "I want you. And I'll tell you as many times as it takes for it to sink in."

He closes the distance between you before you provide another insecure rebuttal for him to combat. He presses down on your mouth hard with his own but keeps his tongue to himself, simply allowing you to feel the heat of his lips against you. There's that chill again, wracking your body, hardening your nipples, facilitating the transfer of the hot, sticky wetness from your folds to your panties.

It's not enough. The fireworks in your head and the butterflies swirling a storm in your stomach leaves you euphoric and eager to consume more of him. You start to tease your tongue along him and he greedily reciprocates by pushing his tongue past your teeth and into your mouth. You gasp at the intrusion and he moves back, but you're not about to let him go. If he’s hungry then you’re starving.

He has to steady himself when you twist his hair in your fingers and yank down, earning you a guttural growl from the back of his throat that fades into a weak moan. The sound has you clamping your legs together, trying to contain the thin layer of slick coating the crease along your inner thighs right where they meet your underwear. You'll have to peel them off and wring them out if he keeps it up.

"So rough," he chides with a chuckle, almost taunting you back as he slides his fingers around the back of your head,

"Sorry," you mumble, dropping your palms flat against his back.

But you're not, not really. Letting him back off now would be truly devastating. You're already moving back in to drag his bottom lip through your teeth, earning another gravelly growl.

“I know you’re not,” he laughs as his lip snaps back to him, your smile giving you away.

He gives a small tug on the strands of your hair he's started twisting between his fingers. He doesn't know what he expected, but the soft moan that pulls from you isn’t it. The sound travels through him like a tuning fork and sets his nerves alight on a path that goes straight to his dick. Without hesitation he fists his hands deep in your hair, twisting as much as he can in his fingers and squeezes. Your mouth falls open and you gasp out a louder, needier moan against him. He presses his mouth harder against you, tongue claiming the space inside yours as its new home.

Your back arcs up off the mattress, arms curling around his neck as if to hold him in place so he doesn’t disappear like he has in so many of your dreams. The heat of his bare chest bores through the thin fabric of your borrowed shirt, firm pectorals squishing the soft flesh of your breasts. It feels like you’re going to explode if you don’t relieve some of the pressure associated with such salacious desire.

“Namjoon,” you pant in a whisper, rolling your body towards him in a frenzied need that drives the shirt up past your panties.

He groans a deep sound into your mouth, trying not to give in to every last lustful thought telling him to put his hands all over you. He knows it’s a delicate balance, exploring this new territory with you, but it’s so hard to rationalize actions with his dick leading his thoughts. He knows he has to reel it in or he is going to go too fast. When you roll your hips against him a second time, he lets himself get lost in the way your hand glides down his back. Your fingertips barely dip below his waistband before they’re coming back up and making their way across his arm. How is it you can make him want you more with every touch, every pant, every pass his tongue makes against yours? Suddenly both your hands leave his back completely and he’s about ready to start weeping. Fuck. You’re killing me.

You can feel the new bit of exposed skin rubbing against his sheets and you allow your body to relax its deathgrip on your thighs, desperate to feel any other part of him touching you. Just as you’re about to pull the sheet down for him to see what you’ve done, he hooks his leg over yours, wedging it between the previously immovable limbs. Oh fuck. I’m in trouble.

He’s about to expose how ridiculously wet you are and you two are just making out. If he doesn’t realize it, he’s still going to be wearing you all over his sweatpants.

“Wait, I…” Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding hard enough to burst through your chest.

He pauses to prop himself on his hands, towering over you. The knee between your legs sinks into the mattress as it supports the majority of his weight. He’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes, pupils so blown out that you can’t see any of the color surrounding them anymore. “What do you need?”

Don’t say your dick. Don’t say your dick. Don’t say your dick.

You’re frozen, terrified that he’s somehow gained the ability to read your thoughts. He exhales a soft sigh and his expression morphs into raw compassion. “Do you wanna stop? It’s okay. We don’t have to move so fast.”

He says that like anything the two of you have ever done has progressed at a pace faster than paint drying. You manage a conflicted sigh, combing your fingers through your hair. Wow. That’s oily. Becoming aware of your appearance, even in the relatively dark room, leaves you feeling insecure.

“Ah, it’s not that,” you begin, trying to explain without revealing just how embarrassed you are. You place your hands on the knee between your legs, feeling his body stiffen at the sensation. Your wrists are quickly pressed into the slick of your thighs when he shifts his knee forward. Oh fuck. He’s too close.

“What is it? Tell me,” he prods when your fingernails dig into his thigh.

You open your mouth to speak, meaning to use the cop out excuse of having to pee, but fall silent when you realize just how muscular his thigh feels beneath your palm.

“What can I do?” he asks, practically seeing the wheels turning in your head.

You nervously swallow, blinking furiously like you’ve forgotten how normal eyeballs work. “Nothing.”

“Okay, why are you being so weird?” he laughs, reaching down for your hands and pulling the blanket back as he moves. “You’re cutting off my blood flow with those little daggers you call nails. Have you been biting them again?”

Panic sets in when you realize you have nowhere to hide. You pull your hands away from his leg to avoid letting him feel how slick your wrists have become just rubbing against your inner thighs. Your shirt has risen up enough to bare your belly button, showing off the lacey black panties below. His eyes slowly drift down, fully taking in the way you look wearing his shirt before they get stuck on the flesh exposed for his consumption. He swallows hard and finally takes in the mouthwatering sight below. The band of stretchy black mesh bordered by a fine red lace encircles your hips, making you look like a gift presented specifically for him to start unwrapping with his teeth.

“Fuck me,” he mutters to himself in a low breathy tone.

You nervously laugh, feeling like your chest is about to cave in on itself. “I’m too embarrassed to do that.”

With his eyes focused elsewhere his hands reach out to clumsily grasp at yours. He drags his lip through his teeth as he draws the back of your hand to his lips. You freeze, knowing that you’re done for.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says."I know it's not that simple, but try it anyway."

He kisses your knuckles sweetly and starts to slowly work his way across the back of your hand, applying more passion to each kiss he plants on your skin. The closer he gets to your wrist the more tongue he offers, kissing, nibbling, and sucking at the slick partially dried against your flesh there. You’d be mortified if you didn’t find it so fucking hot.

Your chest heaves in silent waves as you watch him. He locks eyes with you, pressing his lips to your arm one final time with a coy grin.

“Is that what you were trying to hide from me?”

"Yes." Your voice is small as you admit defeat. You turn your head into the pillow so you don't have to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry. Can I just... Take a cold shower or something?"

Namjoon laughs. "Why are you apologizing? You really don't have anything to be embarrassed about."

Why are you apologizing? Your ex had ingrained in you that you were some freak of nature, but you've known for years now that he didn't know anything about women. Still, it seems that insecurity stuck with you. You bite your lip, mind wandering back the way Namjoon looked sucking your arm.

"Besides you taste amazing from what I can gather," he murmurs, rolling to lay flat on his back, folding his arms behind his head. "But if you really want to shower, I won't stop you. I don't recommend cold water, ever. I mean if you wanna, knock yourself out. If you go hot though, the ventilation can get kind of bad, so keep the door open a crack. I can try my hand at making breakfast. Don't think I haven't been picking up some skills."

You sit up, eyes traveling helplessly down his torso, roaming over his hardened nipples and raking in the divots along his stomach indicating muscles hidden just below the surface. A thin trail of dark hair below his belly button grows thicker as it disappears below the band of his gray sweatpants. Even in the darkness you can discern the bulge slightly tenting the fabric over his crotch. When you force them back up to meet his gaze, you find yourself distracted by the swell of the triceps framing his face. Have the back of his arms always looked like this? Has he always looked so fucking good?

The lip you've held in your teeth for the last minute or so has begun to pale from the pressure. You don't even realize you're giving him that deer-in-the-headlights stare until he reaches over to poke you in the belly.

"Are you going or what?"

You blink at him a few times. "Huh?"

"Shower. Yes? No? Or you gonna keep looking at me like that and tempting me with that bedhead?"

Your hand instinctively flies up to smooth down your hair, even though you know it's no use. How many times has he caught you staring at his body now? You've lost count, but it's still equally mortifying.

"I'm sorry if I seem like a tease," you mumble, eyes darting away. "I know you're the same person as before I said the words out loud, but my brain has decided it likes you too much and it's making me stupid nervous. I feel like I'm undergoing a critical system update. So like... bear with me while it finishes installing?"

He leans his head back against the pillow, rubbing his forehead with tented fingers. "Wow. Why is it the nerdy talk that gets me every time? How do you make it so sexy?"

A nervous laugh dissolves into a hum within your throat. "Sexy? Hmm. I think you've got the wrong girl."

He looks over at you, cheek flush against the pillow. "Nah, I've got the most perfect one."

"Ha. Well. You know what I got?" You continue nervously laughing as you slip out of bed.

"What?" He grins as you pause in the doorway, fabric of his shirt dangling against your thighs.

“I got youniverse,” you tease in a deep voice with a smirk. Deflection by humor is all you know.

“I was being romantic.” He groans, looking for something to throw at you. “Fine. I’m never doing anything like that again.”

"Please be patient while this update installs!" you call from the bathroom, already closing the door behind you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It's been a few minutes since the shower has been running and Namjoon can't stop thinking about how beautiful you looked beneath him. He stands at the stove with one hand tucked in the pocket of his sweatpants, the other holding a spatula so tightly his knuckles pale. Even the sound of bacon crackling can't distract him from the sight, the smell, the taste of you. He doesn't dare to peek his head around the corner.

He's still hard without imagining the way the water is rolling off your body. He doesn't need to go into the daydream of standing under that shower with you, pressing your tits against the glass and fucking you senseless. He definitely shouldn't be thinking about the water spilling onto your ass, your wet soapy hair knotted in his fist as he uses it to arch your back up towards him, or the sounds you might make as his cock disappears inside that tight little--

"Ah! Fuck!" he hisses.

The grease that splatters across his bare chest pulls him from his reverie. He turns off the burner and crosses the room, grabbing a shirt wedged between the couch cushions. As he turns around he freezes when he sees the bathroom door is wide open. That door doesn't move on its own. You did this, didn’t you? Are you trying to kill me, Geeksquad?

“You okay, Joonie?” you yell, voice echoing off the tile surrounding you.

His eyes are stuck on the blurry flesh tones peeking out from behind the textured glass, silently cursing each divot in its surface for the obfuscation of your form. The door slides open and you crane your neck to poke your head out, briefly swiping your hand over your eyes to clear the water from them. Suddenly your gaze is fixed on him, causing his teeth to clack together when he snaps his jaw shut.

Get it together, pervert, he scolds himself. The last thing he wants to do is screw this up and make you uncomfortable, but holy fuck he could cry at how hard you’ve made him again.

“Fi--ne.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, walking towards the open door and fixing his gaze on the floor while clutching the shirt in his hand. “You, uh, left the door open. Do you want me to uh… shut it a little more?”

You shake your head, but realize he’s doing his damndest not to look. Saint Namjoon strikes again. Now it’s your turn to clear your throat. “Joonie.”

“Hmm?” His eyes dart to the tiled wall just outside of the shower. Close, but not close enough.

Come on, you plead, hoping he can read your mind. You roam your fingers through your soapy hair, swallowing the anxiety in your throat.

“Joonie, can you… look at me?”

His eyes waste no time racing to your face, taking a brief detour to the rippled glass clouding the details of your body. Feeling braver when his lips lazily drift apart, you slide the shower door open just a bit more to expose the outer curve of your breast.

“I left it open for you. I thought you might want to…” you purse your lips, feeling your chest tingle with uncertainty. This is so new and so hard to navigate, but you want it so badly you could cry. “Watch?”

“Watch...” He blinks slowly, brow furrowing in confusion like you’ve given him some complex equation to solve. “...you shower?”

Oh no. This is dumb. This isn’t hot. What are you doing? Forget it. You don’t know what sexy is, Y/N. Abort. Abort. Abort! Your eyes dance around the room, trying to focus on something else to calm the ringing in your ears, but your mouth keeps going anyway.

“I-I just thought, hey you know what this is a really nice bathroom. And this shower? I mean…” You don’t even pause as you grip the metal to slide the glass door shut, watching his obscured form hover in the doorway. “...look at this glass. So pretty! It’s like. Wow. Talk about craftsmanship. I’m actually surprised it’s still so clean considering how you live, y’know? Anyway I was just like hey, you know what would be a shame? Not letting Namjoon see his own shower. Yup. Just. I think you can really appreciate how it looks from the other side for once. Ha. It’s nice in here too, like from this side, but I think it’s good to see things from a new perspective every once in a while. Heheh, heh. D-Don’t you?”

His mouth splits into a grin and he drags his lips through his teeth, trying not to laugh. “Yeah it’s pretty great to see it like this. But uh… For a second it seemed like you wanted me to appreciate more than just the construction of my shower. Maybe the sexy woman in my shower? I could do that too, if you want.”

Sexy? The hot water nearly scalds your flesh as you turn the heat up, forcing steam to rise up and over the divider between the two of you. There’s that nervous laugh again, spilling out of your lips as you wash the suds from your hair.

“Eh? Oh no, the steam is too much I can’t see you. Namjoonie?” You lick your lips and slide the door to the side just enough to poke your head back out, allowing steam to billow out in puffs around your head. Your fingers stay curled around the opening, ready for the moment you feel brave again. “It’s not too much watching me… warm up?”

He wants to say it’s not enough, but he’ll gladly take what you give until you’re comfortable. He cocks his head to the side, dragging his lower lip through his teeth.

“I could watch you warm up all day. Though, I may suggest some other ways to do it so we’re not breaking my bank account with the water bill.”

Offering a shy grin you push the glass aside to reveal a sliver of your body for his thirsty eyes. Your palm glides up your body to cup the breast you’ve partially exposed. You angle your thigh towards the wall to show the water cascading down your skin. “Can you see me? Do you-Do you wanna get closer?”

It’s no use telling himself not to be so eager. He’s wished for this for such a long time that he can’t help the automatic steps he’s already walking across the vinyl flooring. He licks his lips and leans against the granite counter, preemptively brushing his fingers over the shape bulging in his sweatpants. “Is it okay if I do this?”

A longing sigh morphs into a strangled moan as it attempts to leave your throat. “Yes, please.”

At your sound those gentle strokes of his fingers turn into a palm roughly squeezing and tugging himself over the fabric.

Oh. Fuck. Me. That’s his dick. Your brain threatens to short-circuit at the sight of him palming himself over his pants. You can’t accept that the long shape beneath is actual size or you’ll fucking die. It has to be a trick of lighting, the bunched up gray material, or even your own mind. He doesn’t get to be attractive, smart, funny, and have a big dick. It’s in the laws of the universe. You refuse to believe it.

Even in your crisis your body responds to the sight of him. Shirtless, back slightly rounded as he uses the counter behind him for support, long fingers cupped around the shape of his cock, touching himself over his gray sweatpants like they’re not even there, and just watching you stand there like a statue with your breast hidden behind your hand. Taking a deep breath to gather your courage, you bump the metal frame on the slider with your elbow as you reach down between your legs. Smoky tendrils of water vapor reach out to draw Namjoon’s attention to the motion of you rubbing your swollen clit.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

His lips part in longing and his eyes roll back in his head for a fraction of a second. Your thumb works its way around your nipple as you massage the supple flesh in a circular motion, revealing a hardened peak in short bursts.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, chest heaving as he plants a palm on the counter behind him and leans back on it as his other dives below the band at his waist.

If the vision of him palming his cock above the surface of his pants wasn’t driving you crazy enough, the sight of him pumping his cock below them sure fucking takes it to another level. The shower drowns out the sound of his fist frantically working himself from tip to base, but you’ve watched enough porn to be able to imagine it. You scan him up and down. His furrowed brow, half-lidded eyes, and open mouth have you leaning back against the wall for support, but it’s the fervent motion of his arm stretching his sweatpants that has your legs quaking beneath you.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, needing to pull the orgasm out before you collapse. Why did you think doing this in the shower was a great idea? Trying to focus on your orgasm while keeping yourself upright is torture. So close. So fucking close.

Your body is shaking as the water hits your torso, hand roaming your body for something more to help release the tension. Namjoon’s eyes are fixed on your chest, watching the water assail the flesh surrounding your nipple.

“That’s it, baby. You got it.”

He would scold himself for using a term of endearment he’s never used with you outside of his own fantasies, but you’re so fucked out he’s hoping you won’t call him out. The words of encouragement edge you towards release. You exhale a loud breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Fuck, Namjoon. I can’t...”

His eyebrows seem permanently knotted together, as though begging you for his own release. He can’t even think straight anymore. “Do it for me, baby. Please.”

The sound of his pleading has you on the brink of letting go. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling that surge coming. It’s going to hit you hard; you can tell. You straighten your legs, whole body tensing up.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joonie. Joonie. Joonie. J--”

Your foot slips.

The cause of your pained cry is multifaceted. First of all, the universe is a dick and loves to remind you that everything you do is forever shrouded in embarrassment and shame. Secondly, that orgasm was going to undoubtedly be the best in your fucking life and it was stolen from you by that fall. Thirdly, your hip feels like it’s been dipped in lava and no amount of biting your lip can help you play things cool.

Namjoon is hovering over you in an instant, shower spraying his back. “Are you okay?!’

Embarrassment floods your features as tears trickle down your cheeks. You want to nod in reassurance but you can’t help but shake it no. His hands cup the back of your head, forcing you to look into eyes that are too concerned to think straight.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No,” you manage to choke out between strained breaths. “Just my hip. Gimme a minute.”

You wail out a long sound, mostly just to vent your frustration at the situation. It makes him feel guilty even though he knows it’s not his fault. You sit up with a wince, but quickly burst into laughter when you notice he’s couched down in waterlogged sweatpants.

“Na-Namjoon, turn off the water,” you say, trying to hold back the giggles as you point up. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

He raises his eyebrows and blinks at you and then he looks down at himself. His mind was so preoccupied…

“Ah! Shit.” He reaches up to turn the knob and the water stops pouring through the head, though his sweatpants have already absorbed a massive amount. At least it made you feel better.

“Towel please,” you say, clutching your knees to your chest to try and cover your body.

He shakes his stupor off and leans out to grab the fluffy white towel hanging nearby. “You know, you can’t blame me for not thinking straight,” he grumbles, handing it over. “We were... having a moment.”

“I know,” you admit with a smirk, wrapping it around you. “I was enjoying it. Too much obviously.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He helps you into his bed and encourages you to lay back against the pillows, despite your protests that your hair is soaking wet and will dry before that pillow ever does.

“It’s fine. Relax,” he says rummaging through a drawer nearby. He disappears for a moment, the wet squelching beneath his feet indicating he’s going back into the bathroom, but you can still hear him. “You should probably rest your side.”

When he returns he’s sporting a pair of black oversized basketball shorts and he’s got both hands stuffed in his pockets. His golden brown skin seems to glow under the soft LED candles, shadows carved into muscles you never realized he possessed. The mattress sinks when he sits down on the edge of the bed beside you and you gulp.

“I’m fine. I’m just a clutz.”

“That makes two of us.” He smiles, eyeing the place where the two ends of the towel meet at your thigh.

“Can I look?” he asks without a second thought.

Your face burns with the flames of embarrassment. “Wh-What?”

His eyes widen as they snap to your face. “Uhhh, your injury! I definitely wasn’t asking to see your clit again. I mean, not that I wouldn’t love to see it again. I would. I just, uh…” He coughs and runs a hand through his hair. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You grin like a smitten fool, glad to not be the only one struggling with composure. The sound of the rain pelting the window nearby has become comfortable padding for the moments of silence you’re unsure how to fill. Slowly, you reach down to pull the towel aside just enough to reveal the red welt at your hip.

He grits his teeth and cringes. “Ouch.”

“It really doesn’t hurt that bad now,” you try to reason.

“Yeah, that’s bullshit.”

“No, really, it’s just a little…” you feel along the reddened patch of skin and flinch when your fingers make contact, allowing a little hiss to pass through your teeth. “...tender.”

“Hmm.” He looks at it closely, trying to figure out if there’s anything he can do. “Ah. Hold tight.”

He leaves and returns with an ice pack, gently pressing the cloth into your side to offer relief.

“That’s better, thank you,” you say, overlaying your hand on his and holding the pack in place. “But there is one more thing you can do, if you want.”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss it better?”

“I don’t think it works like that,” he says with a smirk, already pressing his lips to the skin outside of the ice pack.

Your eyes close and you roll your head back into the soft pillows. The sensation of his lips skimming the outside of your hip is driving you crazy, but he never lifts the pack. Instead he skirts around it and begins kissing down the outside of your thigh.

“Hold this in place, okay?”

His hand slips out from beneath yours and you look up just in time to catch him running the flat of his tongue in a line to your knee. As his dark eyes check in with you, he bends your knee enough to dip his head beneath it and press his lips to this side. Your calf rests on his shoulder as he begins to suck on the tender flesh at your inner thigh. He lightly nips at the skin and pauses, seeking your approval.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes, please, yes.”

He smiles, sucking your skin between his teeth and basking in the delighted sigh that passes your lips in response. You wiggle your hips as he works his way up, anticipating those big soft lips finally pressing where you want them the most. He climbs onto the bed on his elbows, positioning himself between your legs to get more comfortable. He pauses to admire the string of marks he’s left behind.

He grins when you hook your other leg around his shoulder and buck your hips towards him with need. “What, impatient already?”

“I was so fucking close, Joon,” you whine.

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll get there. Chill,” he laughs, turning his face back to your thigh and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses into it.

Despite this being everything he wants, he’s worried if he goes too fast, he won’t be able to enjoy it. He wants to take his time with you. You moan as he sucks another bruise into the soft flesh, inches away from your dripping cunt. He can practically taste that sweet tang on his mouth as he breathes in. To think you were embarrassed about this earlier… Ridiculous. Feeling the heat of your sex so close, he pauses to rest his cheek on the inside of your thigh and swipes his tongue out a few times to tease your labia.

You ball the edge of the towel in your fist and swipe the material away from your body. It’s useless to you now anyway. “Fuck. Namjoon. Please. Just do it already.”

“Do what?” He plays dumb as he smirks, lapping at your outer folds with the tip of his tongue.

You turn your head to the side and whimper against the pillow. The words are both breathless and desperate as they come out. “Please, eat this fucking pussy.”

So much for taking his time. He wraps his arms around your legs and drags you down just a bit meet his hungry mouth, groaning into your clit as he presses the flat of his tongue against it. Heaven. You taste like fucking heaven. He’ll eat you out every day for the rest of his life if you let him.

“Oh, god, yes,” you cry out, forgetting about the ice pack you’re clutching at your waist.

Both of your hands shoot down to tangle in his hair and he has to stop himself from grinding his hips down into the mattress as you tug. While he doesn’t want to cum in his pants, he allows himself to steal a glance up at the way your breasts have pushed together with your arms like this. Another breathy groan sends vibrations rippling from your clit up to your belly and it earns another weak moan from you in return.

“Fuck,” you whisper, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of the man eating you out better than anyone ever has.

You squeeze at your breasts, trying to keep yourself from pushing his head against you even harder. Just when you think he can’t be any more sinful, you feel the first finger glide into your pussy. You tense and take a loud inhale. Holy shit.

When you don’t make the pornstar noise he expects, his ego deflates a tiny bit. He lifts his head to look at your fucked out expression, noting the almost pained way your eyebrows come together and your eyes snap shut, rolling your head to one side.

“Nonononono, don’t stop, please.”

Based on that reaction, he already knows the answer and he feels foolish for asking. “Are you enjoying it?”

It’s not that he’s insecure. At all. You’re just not making the sounds other girls have made once he’s gotten them here. Okay, maybe he’s a teeny bit insecure. He continues to pump his finger into you, feeling the tightness in your walls clamp down on him. It’s hard not to imagine what that might feel like surrounding his throbbing cock. There’s the subtle chase of your hips coming down to meet his palm every time he thrusts his finger up into you. Watching it disappear inside you makes his eyes roll back.

“Joon, do you think I’d be this wet if I wasn’t enjoying it? Please. Keep going.”

He wets his lips, tasting you on them again before sucking back down on your clit. When he realizes how effortlessly his finger is gliding inside you he decides to add another, smiling when he feels your pussy clench and adjust to the newest intrusion.

“Na-Namjoon!” you cry out, throwing your head back.

“Mmm?” he hums innocently against you, flicking his tongue against that sensitive bundle of nerves.

Each pass he makes in tandem with his fingers causes that tingling heat in your belly to grow.

Your legs are shaking but your clit is starting to go numb, and a nervousness swells inside of you, blocking out all sensations of pleasure. You told him you’re a mess. You warned him. There’s so much you wish you could change about your brain. But the anxiety over letting go, of not being able to soothe the ache of another person’s shattered confidence ensures you won’t be able to reach that finish line without some miracle. It feels incredible at certain moments, but every time start to let yourself give in, your body tenses, reminding yourself there’s so much riding on making him feel good by reaching that climax.

If he’s anything like the guys you’ve been with in the past, he’ll focus on it. He’s not though, is he? Now you’re focusing on it. Now you definitely can’t cum. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. Could you just fake it? Would he know?

You’re unaware of the worry plastered on your face and as he looks up to read your expression, it tips him off. Ego only slightly battered, he removes his fingers from your pussy and licks them clean before climbing up the mattress beside you. Thankful for his ability to read your body language, you grab the towel and cling to it, clamping your legs shut and turning to face him.

“You’re anxious,” he says plainly, though you can’t help but take it as an accusation.

“You’re hot,” you fire back with a nervous laugh.

“And you look like a goddess right now, but that’s besides my point. Talk to me, Y/N. What’s wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like? You can tell me.”

You feel so fucking guilty. He’s too good for you.

“Look, you know I have trouble letting things go. Pleasure is… no different. I start to and then—”

“You panic?”

You nod and hug the towel close to your chin. “The last person I was with put a lot of stress on making me… you know, finish. And it was always, always my fault when I couldn’t. There was so much pressure over it that I forgot how to relax with another person. I couldn’t because I was thinking about how mad they’d be if I couldn't.”

“You know you don’t have to worry about that with me,” he says, pressing you towards his chest in a hug. “All I care about is whether or not you’re having a good time. I only stopped because I could tell you weren’t.”

“I just...I forgot how to let go. It’s been a long time since that person and still. I can’t do it unless I’m the one with my fingers…” You clear your throat, feeling embarrassed at having to have this conversation. “I know you’re not like them, but it’s hard. I feel like I failed you already.”

“Okay, one? Too much pressure on yourself. This is a partnership so let me take some responsibility. Which feeds into point two. It’s been…” He sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck as he counts the years. “A while for me too. You know, my skills could probably use some work. We should probably practice if we want to get better at making each other feel good.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, about that. Are you gonna stick your dick in me or what? I want to make you feel good too.”

His cock twitches in his pants and he presses his lips together. “Okay, for real? We were having a real, deep, thoughtful conversation about overcoming obstacles together and you just want me balls deep.” He can’t help but crack a smile. “I see how it is.”

You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “No, no. If you wanna plan it out in excruciating detail how you’re gonna make me cum all over your fingers and your tongue, be my guest. I just figured it was time I offered something other than my tech services. But, whatever, man.”

He swallows hard, deciding to play into the game a little more. “Great. We’re on the same page then. First of all that’s your humor defense mechanism and I will not be tricked into believing you’re just gonna--Ah...”

His words break off into a moan when you nip at the brown, pebbled nipple practically calling your name.

He groans. “Playing dirty?”

“Well, I am a dirty girl, right?” you ask, playfully planting a string of hot, wet kisses across the firm muscles on his chest.

“Hobi’s nickname for you is that accurate huh? Think he’ll abandon it now that you’re mine?”

“Oh, I’m yours, huh?” you tease, kissing lines down his stomach.

“Those love bites on your thighs say you are,” he says with an amused grin as you sit up straight.

“That’s just one thigh. The rest of me is fair game, don’t you think?” You giggle when that smile turns into a frown and you move to tease the band of his shorts down.

His hands grip the back of your neck and he pulls you down into a kiss. “I’ll just have to leave my name all over you then, hmm?” he whispers in a low, breathy tone that makes your pussy clench. “Is that what you want?”

He pulls on your hair, forcing you to expose your neck to him. He latches on, sucking and laving his tongue across it. You moan, reaching down for his waistband once again, fumbling to get it down past the erection sticking straight up. He helps wiggle them past his butt and kicks them down his leg, making sure he has freedom of movement he needs. You gape at the sight of the dark, veiny cock standing at attention as he sucks another bruise into the crook of your neck. You gasp in a hungry breath, trying to keep your mouth from watering at the sight of precum beading atop its dusty pink head. You’ve never wanted to ride someone’s dick so hard in your life. You move to straddle his waist, allowing him to dive down your collarbone and suck at the soft tissue leading down towards your nipple.

He grins against your breast, trying to subdue the tremble of his fingers as they settle on your hips.

“Ah!” you wince, realizing that welt from your fall is still pretty tender as his fingers ghost over them.

“Sorry,” he murmurs against your nipple, teasing it with his tongue before sucking it in his mouth.

“It’s fine. Is it okay if I…” you position yourself over his dick and let it rest flat against his stomach. You slowly settle yourself on top and rock yourself back and forth, grinding your soaking clit perfectly on the head of his cock.

“Use me,” he grunts, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you down so he can get his mouth back on your nipple. “Please.”

There’s a dull pain in your side as his arms graze that spot and the way you’re grinding against him certainly doesn’t help, but you’re so fucked out and needy you’re pretty sure you could walk through fire for this man. It feels like his cock was made for sliding against your folds like this.

Your panting only grows more frantic as he switches his attention to your other breast. He nibbles at the neglected nipple and digs his fingers into the small of your back to keep from shaking as you roll your body against him.

“You feel so good Joonie,” you whine, fingernails digging into his chest.

He flinches at the daggers leaving crescent impressions over his heart and forces air through his teeth. If you keep this up, he’s going to be making a big mess all up his chest.

“Condoms. I have condoms,” he mumbles.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper. “We don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”

“I don’t wanna mess this up,” he whispers, pulling you down into a kiss as your clit continues to grind against his girthy length. You can feel his abs tense as his tip kisses your opening. “Ask me again when I’m not already so fucking close to putting it in. I can’t think straight.”

“That means we should. Where are they?” You whimper as his fingers reach down to rub tiny, gentle circles against your clit and he points to the nightstand beside the bed.

He sucks air through his teeth as your pussy spasms in response to his fingers touching you. You lean forward to reach for the drawer and he sucks your tit in his mouth, working his mouth over the flesh and letting his tongue leave trails all over your chest as you move forward.

“Joonie, you’re making it really hard to concentrate,” you chide, reaching in the drawer and pulling out the little box thankfully sitting on top of whatever other oddities he keeps inside that drawer. “How old are these?”

You flip the tiny box over in your hands, trying to read the packaging while he kisses your neck. Fuck, why is the type so small?

“Mmm bought em a few weeks ago,” he hums into your neck. “After the whole sleeping in your bed thing. Just in case.”

“3-pack, huh? Think you’d get that lucky?” you tease, ripping open the box. “You didn’t even open it yet. What if I asked you to fuck me when we were out?”

“You wouldn’t. You’re too shy.” He laughs, yoinking the condoms from your hand.

You puff your cheeks out at him. “But like… I could have though.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” he reminds you, eagerly tearing the foil in half. “Firewall.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You right.” You roll off him to give him space, chewing on a nail as you admire his form.

He breathes a soft sound through his teeth, trying to calm the nerves racing through his chest. You see the way his fingers tremble as they struggle to roll the latex down his shaft so you place your hands on top of his and help him. Yours aren’t much better in terms of stability, but you want him to know you’ll be nervous going into this together.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry with me either.”

A jagged breath escapes him as he leans into you. “I know.”

He breathes out trepidation before moving in to claim your lips with his own. The weight of his body presses you down into the mattress as he gently wedges himself between your legs. You can feel his tip poking at your entrance and you can’t help but wiggle your hips, hoping he’ll guide himself inside soon. You want to feel that delicious stretch with Namjoon filling you to the hilt and holding you close.

His hips are still as he dives his tongue in your mouth, cock offering only the slightest twitch at the way he can feel your walls pulsing, threatening to pull him in at any second. There’s no way he’s going to last if he goes in now. He just needs a second to compose himself. Maybe a few. Maybe a minute? His fingers trail shaky lines over your jaw, trying to distract you with the passion in his kiss.

“Are you okay?” you ask, breaking the kiss and watching his eyes carefully. “We don’t have to do this if you’re having second thoughts. If you’re not in, then neither am I. We can go watch a movie instead.”

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head with a dramatic sigh, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “You feel too good.”

“But you haven’t even… I mean, not really—”

“This feels too good,” he corrects himself, running a palm up and down your arm. “Being with you.”

“How is that a problem?” you ask, confusion marring your features as you run your fingers through his hair. “I feel like I’m floating, like I wanna keep chasing this high because I never wanna come down off of you. I want to feel even closer. ”

He exhales a long breath. How does he phrase this? “Uh, it’s a problem because I’m too excited. I want this to last and—”

“Oh you’re worried about cumming too soon?”

He swallows his embarrassment, saying nothing as he kisses at your collarbone.

“Don’t be. I don’t care how long you last. I just want to make you feel good. We’ll go for as long as you last and we have two more condoms for later, hmm? We can always get more if you’re feeling wild. My treat.”

“Sugar momma?” He looks up at you with adoration, your grin spreading to his lips as he presses them against you.

“Ew.” You laugh against him. “Me and my five dollars are going home, sorry. I’m out now.”

“Don’t play, come on.” He laughs softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, pulling him into a deep kiss.

That’s when you feel his tip teasing your hole, slowly entering like he’s afraid he’s going to break you. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders as he sinks in, sighing in ecstasy against his lips. Your pussy squeezes him tight, already threatening to milk him dry before he’s even bottomed out inside you. Your walls pulse around him and you moan his name softly in his ear. Oh.Shit. Shit Shit.

He panics, sinking the rest of the way down as though burying himself inside you can hide the orgasm cresting too fast to stop. You cry out, clamping your arms around his back at the sudden stretch.

“Oh fuck, baby.” His breathing stutters and he pulls maybe halfway out before he slams his hips back into you, balls tapping against your ass. “Shit. I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m cumming.”

“Joonie, I love you. It’s okay. I love you,” you whisper between passionate kisses.

His dick twitches inside you as he grunts, letting your tight pussy squeeze the cum out of him until he’s pretty sure he’s spilled everything he has into the condom. He’s breathing heavy, peppering your jaw with soft kisses. He’s growing soft inside you and it’s so fucking sensitive to subject himself to staying, but fuck, he doesn’t want to leave the comfort of your warm cunt.

With a defeated sigh, he ties the condom in a knot and tosses it in the trash before laying down beside you. “I swear I’m not a failure at everything.”

“You’re not a failure at anything. Come here, Joonie.” You gesture towards yourself, smushing your tits together for him as though he needed more incentive to climb on your chest.

He grunts but obliges, resting his head on your breasts and allowing you to comb your fingers through his hair. You place a chaste kiss on the top of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He turns his head into your skin and gives you a wet kiss right outside your nipple. When you shudder he grins.

“This was just… practice. I learned a lot already,” you shyly comfort him. “Like. Wow. Vaginas are amazing. I can really take that much dick. Crazy.” You pause to watch him smile. “Ha, knew I could get you to laugh. Don’t worry. I have a feeling we’ll do even better next round.”

“You want another round after that?”

“Mmm-hmm. Very much,” you giggle and lean in, voice low. “Now that I know how sexy you sound when you cum, how am I supposed to resist you? What, I’m just supposed to forget and let that memory go? Uh-uh.”

He looks down at his flaccid dick and sighs. “I need time to recharge.”

“That’s fine. I mean, you’ll give me some time to get worked up again too. Didn’t you mention breakfast? Weren’t you gonna show me your mad cooking skills?” you tease, poking his sweaty side with a finger.

He jumps up, not remembering if he turned the burner off or not. “Oh shit. The bacon!”

You start cackling as the image of Namjoon running out of the room stark naked sears itself into your brain for eternity. You reach over for your phone, debating texting Jennie about everything. You quickly decide you want to keep this to yourself for at least the rest of the afternoon. Tonight is Saturday, after all and it’s bound to come out once everyone is together.

You roll on your side and listen to the rain falling against the window. So this is love, huh? It’s nice.

[wuzzupketchup]

GAYA SA PELIKULA

Its been a month or so since Gaya Sa Pelikula aired so I’m late in joining the fandom for this masterpiece. With the mass production of Boy Love serials in the Philippines, I felt like we have become a bit oversaturated. As a viewer, it was difficult for me to choose a series that I would want to finish until the last episode. I have always been a sucker for top notch story-telling. And for this reason, I didn’t find the current line up of BLs interesting, save but one. Thankfully, I gave in to the prodding of mutuals to try out Gaya Sa Pelikula. And boy, was I in for a treat.

GSP main actors, Ian and Paolo Pangilinan, are the very much believable characters, Vlad and Karl, respectively. I love the fact that they have really owned their characters. We felt their struggles. We felt every emotion they experienced. They took us on a roller coaster ride, and it was satisfying. At least for me.

Juan Miguel Severo and JP Habac are both brilliant. They had a great script which was matched by a very masterful execution. This show, with its smallest details, make it so much fun to watch and rewatch. I love how it opened with a black screen and a voice-over from Karl, your own reflection on your TV set, as if you are about to see your own story. I also love the use of metaphors to get points across, like the seemingly neat condo unit with an unkempt closet, the reflection of Karl in the mirror holding his chest with a very audible heartbeat sound, or Vlad’s Theme Song Test scene where he was hugging the white picture frame and Karl appears in a white shirt. These details just left me in awe.

It is a brave show because it tackled a lot of social issues like no other. You cannot sit through the whole series without having your own realizations. It gave everyone an idea of how it is like to be in the community. What it feels like to question yourself, to embrace your true self, to live your truth.

I love all the episodes of GSP, but I particularly have Episodes 6 and 7 as my favorites.

Episode 6 is aptly titled “A Baring of Souls” because this was the first time we saw Karl let go of his real self. For me, the real Karl is the effeminate Karl. There’s nothing wrong with being effeminate. But we grew up in a society where being effeminate is being frowned upon. Dads get angry when their sons are soft and telling them that boys should be tough, not girly. I came to this conclusion of Karl because of certain things. One, the hand gesture he used when he asked Vlad if he was gay. That was his definition of gay. This probably was the first time he met someone like Vlad who was different from his definition of gay. Two, the fact that he has a fixation with “being obvious.” This was evident with what he said to Vlad “na hindi ka halata” on Episode 5 and when he asked him “So halata ako?” on Episode 7. Third, his guarded behavior. We see snippets of the real Karl when he is caught off guard, like in Episode 2 where a ghostly Judit suddenly appears, and in Episode 5 when he runs out of the unit. He’s also jumpy, a trait that someone who’s hiding something normally has. We also see the stark difference in the way Karl dances in Episode 1, and the way he let go of himself in Episode 6. I loved it when he started dancing in a soft and delicate manner. This was also the episode where we get to peek into what shaped our protagonists into what they were at that point in their lives. It showed them opening up to each other, even sharing the most uncomfortable details about them.

Episode 7, for me, is the most emotionally charged of the series. From an aspiring screenwriter’s point of view, I understood why JMS and Direk JP formulated the episode that way. It was intended to be chaotic. There was too much going on in a span of 7-8 minutes starting from the introduction of Tito Santi upto the dinner. It was utter chaos. And I loved every second of it. I had to rewatch the episode just to be able to get the whole picture. It was an ode to where Karl was with what he was feeling. If you were confused with what you were watching, try to put yourself in Karl’s shoes. I can only imagine the stress he was in. His heart must have been in his throat at the very least. I like the way they set up the events leading up to the confrontation scene. Just brilliant.

Vlad is a character that we instantly fall in love with. Why not? He’s handsome and charismatic. But what made me love him is the fact that he is broken. And he’s not one to hide that. I get his yearning to be with someone that would match his boldness when it comes to love. Because of his past hurt, we see him being cautious. Obviously, he had a crush on Karl. But he held back. This is precisely the reason why we see him wait for Karl to make the first move. Karl initiated the dance on Episode 5. Karl initiated the kiss they shared on Episode 6. So it was just devastating for him when Karl did not give a Yes or No answer to his “do you have feelings for me?” question.

While Vlad is an emotional character, Karl on the other hand is a cerebral character. We often see him lost in his thoughts. One thing about cerebral people is that feelings and emotions take a backseat. I appreciate the part where he said “Ayoko na magisip.” It signified that he let his emotions take over. I also fully understand how he reacted to all the stimuli on Episode 7. I’ve seen a number of reactions and comments angry at him, saying he has no balls. Its easy for us to antagonize his character for not standing up for Vlad. But keep in mind that Karl’s just new to this. He has lived his life in constant fear. Fear of being exposed, especially to his family. Fear that he might indeed, be gay; he’s confused about himself. All the pent up emotions he had were just too much to process. He gave the best answer he could afford when he was cornered by Judit at the dinner table. How could he have owned up to Vlad, when he can’t even accept himself? Karl is a very beautiful character with so much layers to him.

Overall, Gaya Sa Pelikula is a masterpiece. A God-tier drama series. It is not just a love story. It is a social commentary as well.

Thank you GSP Team for bringing these characters to life on the screen. Karl, I see you.