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#but don't expect any for some time bc i'm SLOW
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[Image description : a drawing of characters from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego, digitally colored in a lineless style. Carmen, in her civilian clothes and with her hair loose, is hugging Player who looks as if he has jumped in her arms. A second picture shows a closeup on Carmen and Player’s faces. /End description]
Does it fuck you up a little bit to think about how Carmen’s probably-biggest source of positive physical touch growing up, Coach Brunt, tried to literally crush her to death and how it probably fucked her up regarding physical touch?
Anyway I’ve decided to draw a little series of happy moments including touch between Carmen and her family :) And who better to start with than her oldest friend, the one who’s always been there for her?
Other parts (to be edited) : Shadowsan
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depresseddepot · 2 months
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I'm trying to find ways to slowly ease my way into taking walks (debilitating social anxiety) so I was going to download pokemon go again but my phone is too old :(
#im actually very upset abt this lol#all of the other tricks ive found rely on having a dog to walk#and like i would love to get my own dog but i absolutely cannot afford one lmao#so i guess i just. still can't go on walks#nobody seems to understand just how impossible it is for me to walk down the street when im not trying to get somewhere#like just going for a walk for fun/to look at nature feels like im being killed#people are LOOKING at me and when someone even so much as glances at me while im walking i instantly feel like I'm doing something wrong#or like they're going to misunderstand my sort of odd behaviors#i can't walk slow because they'll think im a stalker. i can't walk fast because ill get out of breath and they'll think im disgusting#i can't keep a normal pace because im too nervous and i just spend the whole time tense and hate myself even more when i get home#like. what the hell am i supposed to do lol#getting a dog is the only way i think i could stop myself from spiraling like that bc of COURSE im walking slow and leisurely.#im walking my dog. my dog wants to smell and has to poop or whatever#im no longer a freaky fat stalker im just some guy walking my dog#this became more of a vent than i was expecting lmao but if anyone has any actual tangible tips for how to go on walks i would appreciate it#when i had to walk 2 miles to class i used to take a small part of an edible right before i got on the bus lmao and that worked WONDERS#but i don't want to have to do that just to walk around my own neighborhood when i eventually move out#i just want to be normal lmao i want to go out and find bugs and look at leaves#i guess i could walk in the woods but what if i get lost#i want to be able to look at stuff. i want to be able to stop and look at a plant while some person passes by me#without feeling like im going to blow up or like they're going to hit me or like IM going to hit THEM#im used to anxiety but i always feel so erratic in public places. when everyone wore masks i was a little better#i still mask most of the time but it doesn't help anymore bc now im like one of the only people that does it#so now instead of blending in AND having my face covered i just stand out more#my face is still covered so it still helps but its like barely a net positive lmao#i want to be able to look around without worrying that someone is looking at me from their window and thinks im a stalker#truly how the hell am i supposed to do that without a dog lol
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kookslastbutton · 2 months
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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iv
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✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.
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pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)
genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love
Word count: 11.3k
Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions (you might laugh, you might cry, and you might just wanna punch something after this chapter), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecation in some aspect, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world
playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.
a/n: So, elephant in the room....how did this get past 11k when other chapters are significantly shorter? Well...I had ideas? I'm sorry!! 🫠 ANYWAY more angst in this chapter. Sorry not sorry for what you will consume here. I honestly love this chapter so much though! Okay, I won't say any more bc spoilers are cool but not in my fic! (hehe) Enjoy! 🥰
series masterlist | next >>
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Numb.
It’s the only word you can rummage up to describe the sudden shift in your demeanor. You’d think one’s typical response to their ex-husband’s drunken confession would be one of confusion, anger, hurt, or the like.
But you’ve gone stone cold instead, barely able to feel the steaming hot water that kisses your skin from within the tub. The room seems to have become a bit of a haze too, your vision blurring as you grip your cell phone in your hand.
The absurdity of it all—the man who handed you divorce papers now professing his love—feels like a cruel joke. The sheer impossibility of the situation is almost laughable, yet you can't even bring yourself to do that at this point. You've exhausted all of your emotional resources.
You’re unsure how many seconds pass before his voice calls your name again.
“__? Are you still there?” His voice is a muffled echo in your mind. It sounds so far away, though you know he’s right here on the other end of the line.
"Honestly Jungkook…I don’t know what you expect me to say.”  The words come out slow, measured, and almost emotionless.
There's a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of his confession. "I guess—I'm not sure either. But I just needed you to know. I needed to tell you everything."
“You're drunk. You realize that, right?"
“I had a few beers, yeah," he admits. "Maybe I'm a little tipsy. But it doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. I miss you, __, a lot."
The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re back in the past, back when those words would have meant the world to you. But now, they feel hollow, devoid of the warmth they once carried. And how can they not? You tethered yourself to your ex-husband for three years, learned his patterns, became acquainted with his needs, and danced with his indifference. In the end, the result is always the same, and this time is no different. By morning, he'll likely forget everything he's ever said to you and return to his normal habits.
You take a deep breath, your head resting on the cool porcelain tub, and close your eyes. "I can’t do this," you say quietly. "Not now."
"It's late. I understand-"
"No," you interrupt, voice firmer, "you don't understand, Jungkook. You don't understand me and you never have. I'm hanging up now."
"Please don't. I know I've hurt-"
"Stop. Do you know how patronizing that sounds to me? Please don't call this number again."
"But... I love you, __," his voice is barely a whisper. "Do you not love me anymore?"
"Goodbye, Jungkook." You end the call before another word can drop from his lips, or yours for that matter. It's time you accept that you are never more than an impulsive decision, a temporary solution, and an item on his agenda. Tonight's conversation solidifies that for you.
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Despite being sleep-deprived the next morning, you refuse to let fatigue keep you from fulfilling your promise to visit Taehyung at the hospital. You've been anxious about him all night, tossing and turning without respite. The weight of your ex-husband's drunken confession added to your restlessness as well. Nevertheless, you push it out of your mind as you bound out the front door.
Upon arrival, you are greeted by an abundance of flowers, cards, and thoughtful gifts scattered around Taehyung’s hospital room. One bouquet on the windowsill catches your attention in particular—its familiar scent of lavender is instantly recognizable.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind you. You turn to see Dr. Min entering the room, Taehyung’s chart in hand. He seems more lively than last night, his expression noticeably brighter with a faint smile on his lips.
“Yes, they’re lovely,” you reply. “I’m guessing these are from Taehyung’s fans and colleagues?”
He nods. “Indeed. Lavender is a calming scent. It’s no wonder people chose it for him.” The corners of his mouth lift slightly before he continues, “My girlfriend loves it too. She says it helps her relax after a long day.”
The comment is unexpected yet sweet. You notice the suppressed grin and the warmth in his eyes easily, signaling his deep affection for her. You wonder how it must feel to love someone so purely and without restraint. Before the thought lingers, your gaze shifts involuntarily to the man on the hospital bed, still asleep. Though the bandages are gone and his breathing is stable, your concern deepens as you take in his nearly still form.
“How’s he doing?” you ask, moving closer to his bed. Your heart tightens with each step as the cuts and burns on his face become more visible.
“He’s lucky,” Dr. Min says, walking to the opposite side of the bed, his tone growing serious. “He has multiple rib fractures, a mild concussion, and a few burns, but it could have been worse. Taehyung is stable now, and we’re monitoring his progress closely.”
“How long will it take for him to heal?”
“His face burns are only second-degree, so they should heal in a couple of weeks. The concussion should also resolve with ample rest and by avoiding strenuous activity—both physical and mental.”
“Which means he won’t be able to act for a while?” you ask, reading between the lines.
“Afraid not,” Dr. Min dismisses the idea. “Hopefully, his projects can accommodate his absence.”
“What about his rib fractures? I imagine those will require the most attention.” You feel like you might be asking too many questions, knowing Dr. Min will likely need to repeat everything to Taehyung later, but you can't hold back. After all, you made a promise to yourself last night that you'd ensure he'd be alright.
“Yes," Dr. Min answers carefully, "they could take up to three months to fully heal. We recommend applying ice for 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. As long as he remains stable over the next few days, he can be discharged to continue his recovery at home." He pauses, allowing you to process the information before continuing. "It's crucial that he rests. Even if he feels bursts of energy, he needs to let his body heal. Light activities like breathing exercises and short walks are fine, but he should avoid intense exercises until we give the all-clear.”
You nod thoughtfully, absorbing Dr. Min’s detailed prognosis. Taehyung’s condition sounds serious but manageable. After such a traumatic accident, it's clear he'll need months to heal. Getting him to adhere to the doctor's orders will be challenging, given his profession and active social calendar. However, if you need to be the one to remind him, you will.
“I’ll make sure he follows your recommendations,” you assure Dr. Min, your voice tinged with concern.
“I have no doubt,” Dr. Min replies with a reassuring smile. “You know, you're the first person who’s shown up for him both last night and today. Aside from that young man who came in briefly. Namjoon, right?”
“Yeah,” you respond slowly, the revelation catching you off guard. “He works as my secretary but he's also a good friend of Taehyung's. His family really hasn’t come in yet?” You circle back to Dr. Min's first point with a sense of urgency.
You wouldn't normally be this insistent on the matter; however, past conversations with Taehyung have revealed how much he cherishes his family, often sharing stories about their reunions with warmth and enthusiasm. With such a loving family, you’re taken aback that they haven’t shown up yet. Then again, his accident was sudden, and there could be various reasons for their delay. Do they even know about his accident, for that matter?
“They called, of course, but you’re the first to actually come in,” Dr. Min clarifies, his gaze thoughtful as he responds to your concern. "You must be quite an attentive boss to show this level of care for your colleague."
There's an underlying suggestiveness laced in his tone, but you're quick to brush it off, redirecting the focus to Taehyung’s condition. “It’s the least I can do, given what he’s going through,” you say, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s a valuable member of our team, and I want to make sure he gets back on his feet as soon as possible.”
Dr. Min's eyes twinkle, as if holding back further commentary. “Even from a professional standpoint, not everyone would go to such lengths for a coworker. He’s fortunate to have you.”
You feel a slight flush as his subtle implications continue. “Well, I just…care about his well-being. Besides,” you glance back at Taehyung, your expression softening more than you intend, “I know he'd do the same for me.”
For a few short breaths, Dr. Min remains silent as your attention remains fixed on your colleague. “I need to check on a few other patients so I’ll leave you two alone for now," he finally says, breaking the silence. “I'll be back to check in on him again later, but if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime, the nurse is nearby."
With a nod and a soft "thank you," you watch Dr. Min exit the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung once more. After settling into a chair beside his bed, you silently observe the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic sound of his breathing is a small comfort amidst his vulnerable state. Despite everything, you're glad he's going to be okay.
As each minute passes, nurses come and go, and the hum of activity outside the room gradually fades into a background murmur. You had only planned to stay for an hour this morning, but time seems to slip away as the clock now nears 1 p.m. You had hoped Taehyung would be awake by now, but he remains still.
After a brief sigh, the thought occurs to you that you don't have to spend so many hours here, waiting for Taehyung to wake up. It's the weekend, and there are plenty of other things you could be doing instead. Dr. Min could easily call you the moment Taehyung wakes up. But something in your conscience urges you not to leave. Just give it another hour, you think. If he isn’t awake by then, you can come back tomorrow.
Suddenly, a slight movement catches your eye. Taehyung's fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. You nearly missed it with how lost you were in your thoughts.
Leaning forward with nervous relief, you softly call his name. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly, his eyes blink open. He turns his head slightly, gaze eventually finding yours, and you feel momentarily transfixed. It's unlike you to respond this way, but you had forgotten how piercing and comforting his eyes could be. A genuine smile immediately spreads across his face once your eyes meet, though not as boxy as usual due to his condition. Nevertheless, it's encouraging to see him awake and responsive.
“Hi," his voice is strained but recognizable. "It's...nice to see you."
“The feeling's mutual,” you respond gently. “How are you feeling?”
He shifts slightly, wincing a bit. “Like I got hit by a truck,” he mutters. “I’m sore all over.”
“You had a close call, but you’re in good hands now. Your doctor, Dr. Min, says you'll be okay, as long as you take it easy for a while. He was here earlier this morning, but he'll check in with you again soon.”
"You..." He hesitates, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You've been here since morning? What time is it now?"
"Oh, uh, it's around 1 in the afternoon," you say, gradually realizing the weight of your words. You consider whether or not to tell him the full extent of your stay. “I got here a few hours ago. Don’t worry.”
Taehyung nods slightly, a mix of gratitude and concern evident in his expression. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “I wasn't sure if I'd be alone.”
A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his words, your throat tightening. Before you can ask what he means, he continues, “I must have taken a lot of your weekend from you.” His tone is apologetic, and your heart aches. Here he is, lying on a hospital bed, in pain and vulnerable, and he’s worried about inconveniencing you.
“I'm glad to be here,” you reassure gently. “I promise, you’re not alone. A lot of people care about you.”
Taehyung glances around, taking in the gifts and flowers scattered throughout the room. “From my fans, I’m guessing?” he asks, attempting to keep his tone light.
“And your colleagues too,” you reply. “We all want to see you get better." Taehyung returns his gaze to you, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Neither of you says anything, which unsettles you.
“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, the question coming out more hurriedly than intended.
“I drifted in and out for most of the night. It’s hard to get comfortable,” he admits, "I think I could still hear a lot around me. It felt like someone was holding my hand for a few minutes too, but I’m not sure how much of it was real or just dreams, though.”
Oh shit. You weren't expecting that answer.
The possibility that Taehyung might have heard you talking to him last night shouldn't be that embarrassing, yet your mind races with thoughts of what he might have heard or understood in his semi-conscious state. Not only did you share more than you probably should have, but you also touched his hand to feel his pulse, and he felt it.
“Well, um, I'm sorry to hear you had a rough night. You should rest more,” you suggest, trying to compose yourself. "I should get going anyway and let you sleep.” You begin standing from your seat but don't get far before the gentlest of touches brush against your wrist. When you look at Taehyung, he quickly retracts his fingers, concerned he overstepped.
"Shit, I'm sorry, __. I didn't mean to grab at you like that," he says softly. "It's just...would you mind staying with me a little longer, please? I'd really appreciate the company."
You can hear the yearning in his request. It's clear that he doesn't want to be alone, and you don't blame him, especially after the accident he's endured. Settling back into the chair, you agree to stay a bit longer, perhaps another half hour, before heading home; you realize you haven't eaten lunch yet.
"So, how are you doing?" he asks. "We haven't talked in bit."
His question triggers a flood of thoughts, the most recent interaction with your ex-husband being one of them. Up until now, you've managed to push his drunken call out of your mind, preferring to focus on Taehyung instead. However, Jungkook's unexpected confession still throws you for a loop. It's not that you're riddled with the need for clarity on its validity, especially since you don't believe him anyway. How could he claim to love you when he also admits he doesn't understand his own feelings? On top of that, being drunk while doing so—it doesn't make sense.
No, the real question now is what happens next. How do you proceed? Will he try to reach out again? The way he asked if you still loved him before you ended the call weighs on your mind even now.
You know you'll need to discuss this with Melody during your next therapy session.
Before you spiral further, you decide to steer the conversation away from personal matters and opt for a safer topic.
"The company is doing well," you reply with a smile. "The new campaigns we've put out recently have been pretty successful. Although," you add, a hint of curiosity in your tone, "the team has missed your frequent drop-ins, especially Namjoon." If you're honest with yourself, you've missed them too.
"How is he? Namjoon?"
"He's okay, but he's been concerned for you," you answer carefully. "When we heard the news, we came to see you together, but he was quite affected. He promised to visit once you woke up."
"So," Taehyung takes a moment to process. "That was this morning, right?"
"No, actually, it was yesterday."
There's a brief, awkward silence as you sense Taehyung might be thinking the same thing you are—about your presence last night. Surprisingly, he doesn't bring it up. Instead, he eyes you curiously, biting down on his lip slightly.
"I meant to stop by last week," he admits. "But we were wrapping up the final scenes of my film shoots. The producers were eager to finish them. I'm just thankful we got them done. I wanted to spend a day riding my bike along a scenic route until... well, until all of this happened. I don't remember much, but I'm just grateful Tan wasn't with me."
"Tan?" you ask, curious now.
"Yeontan, my pomeranian," Taehyung explains with a soft smile. "He means the world to me. My parents take care of him when I'm busy with filming. I was actually planning to drive up and visit them this weekend. And, of course, bring Tan back home with me. They live pretty far from here, so it's better that I go up to them if I can."
Well, that answers the question about his parents not being here yet, you think to yourself.
As Taehyung speaks, you can see a flicker of fondness and relief in his eyes when he mentions his dog. It must have been months since he last saw him.
"I bet you miss him a lot," you comment softly, "Tan."
"I do," he admits with a slight smile, "but I know he's being well taken care of. Hopefully, I can see him soon. And my parents too."
"I understand that feeling," you reply, nodding thoughtfully. "Pets have a way of becoming family, don't they? I had a cat named Evie when I was growing up. She was a feisty little thing with green eyes, always getting into mischief. We got her from the streets and she was so slim, but it didn't take her long to beef up with all the treats we gave her. Whenever I was feeling down, she would curl up next to me, as if she knew. It's funny how they have that kind of intuition, isn't it?"
Taehyung listens intently, a small smile playing on his lips. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment at your tangent. It's one of the few times you've shared something personal about yourself that wasn't work-related. Feeling like you might have overshared, you decide to stop, assuming Taehyung isn't interested in knowing that much.
You chuckle inwardly at yourself.
Jungkook was your husband for three years, and he never seemed to care about such personal details.
I—" you start, intending to apologize, but Taehyung interrupts.
"Did you have any other pets?" he asks, curiosity piqued.
You chuckle softly, reminiscing. "Yeah, we had... uh, god, you don't want to know how many pets we had."
"Try me," his eyes become playful, yet there's a seriousness behind them, like he really wants to know. It's unfamiliar.
"Alright," you chuckle, "aside from Evie, there were three other cats. Calvin and Misha were the adventurous ones, always climbing trees, while Pip was the cuddly lap cat. Then there were two dogs: Toby, our sneaky Chihuahua, and Bella, a terrier who growled at everyone. Oh, and we had three rabbits too. Cute, but also feisty."
Taehyung laughs, "I sense a theme going on."
"What theme?"
"Well," he grins, "It seems like your household was filled with some strong main characters."
You chuckle at his joke. "Yeah, our house was never quiet, that's for sure. Each one had their own personality and quirks."
"You don't have any now though? Pets, I mean," Taehyung asks.
"Sadly, I don't," you reply with a hint of regret. "The company takes up a lot of my time, and I don't think it would be right to leave a pet alone for extended periods. I might consider getting another cat, but right now, focusing on running the company leaves me with little spare time. I miss having them around though."
Taehyung mulls over your word carefully. “If I ever get out of this hospital...maybe I—”
Before he has the chance to finish, the hospital room door opens, and Dr. Min enters, his expression serious yet composed. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, not expecting to see you still here and Taehyung awake. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he begins, glancing between you and his patient. “It’s good to see you up and looking a bit better."
Dr. Min approaches Taehyung's side, opposite to you. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
Taehyung's demeanor shifts instantly, his playful expression fading as he turns to answer. “Pretty sore, honestly,” he replies.
Dr. Min nods. “Let’s run a few checks to see how you’re doing.”
Sensing this is your cue to leave, you rise from your chair and reach out to touch Taehyung's hand. But you stop yourself short. Something about performing the physical action while he’s fully conscious instills a flutter of nerves within you. Instead, you gently tap his shoulder, causing him to meet your eyes. “I think I'll be going now, but it was nice talking to you,” you say softly. "Was there something you wanted to say earlier, though?"
He pauses for a moment before replying, his expression reminiscent of the time a few weeks ago when you declined his dinner invitation. You still don’t understand why he seemed somewhat disappointed; it's not like it was a date. He had made it clear he wanted to go out as colleagues. The only reason you declined was because you didn’t want him feeling pity for you, or the struggles that came with the divorce.
"It's okay, we'll have to save that conversation for another time," Taehyung's voice brings you back to the present. "Enjoy the rest of your day, __. Thanks again for staying with me."
"Of course," you reply, then turn to Dr. Min. "If you wouldn't mind letting me know when and if he can be discharged, I'd appreciate it. And Kim Namjoon too, since we're both nearby." Dr. Min nods in agreement. With that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and exit the room.
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“He said what?!” Your best friend Jimin almost shouts through the video call, eyes wide with disbelief. You’ve just finished recounting your ex-husband's unexpected, drunken confession from the previous night. Jimin, who already holds a deep-seated grudge against Jungkook, looks livid.
“He had the nerve to say that to you? While he was drunk?” Jimin continues, his hands clenching into fists.
You nod, feeling a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “Yeah, I told him not to call my number again and he hasn't contacted me since.” As expected, he likely forgot all about it.
“Good,” Jimin declares with a fierce protectiveness, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You don’t need that kind of drama in your life, especially not from him. And if he even thinks about calling you again, just say the word, and I'll come down there and handle it personally.” He emphasizes 'personally' with such intensity that it makes you giggle for the first time tonight.
“Thanks, Jimin,” you say, a warm feeling spreading through you at his unwavering support. “I’m just trying to move on, focus on work, and other things.”
Jimin’s expression softens, and he nods firmly. “You're incredibly strong, __. Are you really okay though? It was a huge blow for him to make a confession like that and even though I dislike him, I know you still have some lingering feelings for him. I'm not a fool to believe you're unaffected.”
You take a deep breath, appreciating your best friend's perceptiveness. “It’s complicated. I’m trying so hard to move past everything, especially with Melody's help, and then he just…throws that at me. It’s like he’s trying to pull me back into his mess.”
Jimin’s eyes are filled with concern. “You don’t owe him anything. Remember that. He made his choices, and you have every right to move on without his baggage.”
“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “It’s just…easier said than done. But I’m working on it.”
“You’re doing great,” Jimin reassures, his voice gentle. “And you have every right to focus on yourself now. Don’t let him mess with your head.”
You nod, feeling a bit lighter with the support. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”
“I'm always here for you love,” he says, his protective demeanor softening into a warm smile. “Now, enough about that idiot. How’s everything else? Work? Taehyung? Everyone at the office is talking about his unfortunate accident, poor sucker.”
At the mention of your colleague, you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks. Did the heaters in your apartment just turn up or something?
“He’s slowly recovering," you answer. "I saw him this morning and we talked for a bit. He’s... he’s been through a lot.”
Jimin raises an eyebrow, “You saw him yesterday too, right? And if my memory serves, you were at the hospital with him until the afternoon. I remember I texted you to see if you were free to call earlier than planned. Something you'd like to tell me?” A teasing grin suddenly spreads across his face, and you shake your head, knowing exactly what he's insinuating. It's like talking to Dr. Min all over again.
“Seriously, Chim, no, it's not like that," you deny instantly, heart racing a little. "He's been my company endorser for a little over six months now, and he’s been nothing but kind to me. With everything he’s been through, I just want to make sure he'll be okay. I feel somewhat responsible for him. Maybe I'm crazy.”
“Responsibility, huh?” Jimin smirks, unconvinced of your denial. “Sure. Because ‘responsibility’ usually makes people blush.”
You wave off his suspicions, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “I’m not, so if you wouldn't mind ceasing your teasing, that'd be great."
“Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you ask me, it sounds like more than just responsibility. Taehyung seems like a sweet guy, and you care about him. And I sense he feels the same way about you. Don't think I forgot about his little dinner request weeks back.”
You chuckle, brushing off his suspicions. “Oh, come on, enough. Believing that Kim Taehyung has any kind of interest in me is like believing that Jungkook loves me. It’s unfathomable. Taehyung's a colleague, that’s all.”
“Okay, excuse me? Unfathomable?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone help! My best friend is selling themselves short, again. __, you’re amazing, and anyone, including Taehyung, would be lucky to have you. That ex-husband of yours was an idiot, but just because he couldn't see what he had doesn’t mean others can’t.”
You roll your eyes playfully, but Jimin’s words hit a soft spot. “Chim, you're sweet, but I'm just saying that Taehyung is on a completely different level. I’m just me... a 30-year-old divorcee with a half-decent startup.” Those alone are enough to have any man steer clear of you.
“Stop this, __. You're much more than that, and it's pretty damn incredible,” Jimin insists, his voice firm. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. That’s not something to brush off. Taehyung sees that. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”
You sigh, feeling a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “I appreciate it, Chim. But let’s just drop it, please?”
“Alright, I won't push it," he concedes gently, "just know I’m here whenever you need.”
“Thanks, Jimin,” you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Probably explode from all that bottled-up stress,” he jokes, making you laugh again. “But seriously, you’re doing great. Just keep taking it one step at a time, and call me if you need anything!”
As the call ends, you’re left with a lot to think about. Jimin’s words echo in your mind, and for a brief second, you find yourself wondering if maybe your best friend is right—that perhaps you do care about your colleague more than you’re willing to admit.
Well, either way, it doesn't matter; you've got enough on your plate as it is.
Starting with the stack of papers laid out on the coffee table, work you brought home that's awaiting your attention. It's a critical deal for your startup, one that could secure much-needed funding and propel your business to the next level.
Sighing softly, you reach for your laptop and open the latest project proposal.
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You start your Sunday as you always do, with a book in hand, heading to your favorite café. It’s a ritual that’s been with you since your teenage years, and today, you feel a desperate need for its familiar comfort. After wrapping up the project proposal late into the night, your brain craved a break.
Entering the quaint café, you’re greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Finding a cozy spot by the large window, you settle in for a day of reading, occasionally looking up to observe people passing by outside.
Hours slip away unnoticed in the serene atmosphere, lost in the pages of your book. Somewhere along the way, mid-sentence, your thoughts subconsciously drift to a conversation with Taehyung weeks before his accident—the day of your six-month anniversary.
You remember how he mentioned his interest in books that day, leaving you curious about what he enjoys reading. You imagine he might be into classic authors like Charles Dickens or Oscar Wilde. Then again, you might be mistaken.
Refocusing on your book, you manage to read another paragraph before thoughts of Taehyung intrude again. Did he have any company today? You quietly hope Namjoon paid him a visit. "Okay, __, calm down," you tell yourself, "Taehyung will be fine, and Namjoon definitely would have visited him now that he's awake." With a determined effort, you return to your book.
It isn't until the sun begins its descent that you decide it's time to pack up your things and head home. Passing by the hospital on your way, a sense of restlessness tugs at you once more. Should you stop and see Taehyung, even if only for a few minutes? The thought lingers, but then you recall Dr. Min's pending update on his discharge status. Maybe it's best to wait for his confirmation.
You continue driving, but the concern refuses to leave your mind. Eventually, you make a decisive turn, heading back towards the hospital. It wouldn't be as lengthy as last time—just a quick visit to check on how he's doing.
When you arrive at the hospital, you hesitate for a moment outside the entrance. It's Sunday evening, and visiting hours are likely limited. You check your phone quickly to see if Dr. Min has sent any updates, but there's nothing new.
Taking a deep breath, you decide to go in anyway.
Taehyung is awake when the nurse leads you to his room, casually flipping through a magazine. He looks up, his expression softening into a smile upon seeing you.
"Hey," you say softly, stepping inside. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. I hope it's okay."
"It's more than okay," he replies warmly, setting the magazine aside. "I'm happy to see you."
You nod, feeling relieved that he isn't disturbed by your presence.
"Though, in all honesty," he continues, "I didn't expect you back today."
"I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay," you admit quietly, taking a seat nearby. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm better, just a bit sore still," he says sincerely, his gaze meeting yours. "What about you? How's your Sunday been?"
"Quiet," you respond with a small smile. "Spent most of it reading at a café, and then decided to stop by here."
"Really?" His interest piqued, he asks, "Which one? Sometimes I do the same thing when I have some free time. Or, I'll read at the beach too. It's relaxing."
"Well, have you tried the one on Willow Street? I've been a regular there since I was 16."
"No... I'm not familiar with that one," he admits, "I usually go to the one on 5th."
"5th? You know, I don't recall a café on 5th, unless..." you pause, realization dawning, "oh no," you blurt out unintentionally.
"What?" Taehyung's eyes twinkle with amusement at your spontaneous reaction. "Have you been?"
You hesitate to answer, not wanting to risk offending him.
"Yes..."
"And?" Crap, you were hoping he wouldn't ask for details.
"Um... it's okay," you reply simply.
"What? Just okay?" Taehyung exclaims, feigning offense. "Their coffee and tea are decent, and they have those comfy armchairs by the window."
"I know, but there's just something about it," you reply with a playful shrug. "Maybe it's the lighting, or maybe I'm just picky."
"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Maybe I'll check out this Willow Street café sometime. You've been going there for years, so it must be good."
"Well, I highly recommend it." You can't help but feel a bit smug, though you try to keep a straight face. It's just nice to have someone take your suggestion seriously. "You'll have to tell me your review of the place if you go."
Taehyung nods thoughtfully in reply, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of admiration. You look away, pretending to straighten your jacket. Why is he staring like that? You're not used to being looked at without some sense of hostility.
Just as you begin to feel a bit awkward, the door swings open, and a nurse peeks inside.
"Sorry to interrupt," she says kindly, "but visiting hours are over for the evening."
You glance at your watch, surprised at how quickly time has flown. "Oh, okay," you reply, a touch disappointed. "I'll be heading out then, thank you."
Once the nurse leaves, you direct your focus back to Taehyung. He smiles understandingly, sitting up a bit straighter. "Thanks for stopping by," he says warmly.
"Yeah, of course," you reply, gathering your things. "Did Dr. Min mention having you discharged any time soon?"
He shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Might be here for a couple more days."
You nod, feeling sympathy for his extended stay. "Well, take care of yourself, okay? Let me know if you need anything."
"I will," Taehyung assures you with a grateful smile. He watches as you make your way to the door, but just before you can twist the metal knob, he speaks up agian. "Uhm...if you have time tomorrow, I wouldn't mind if you came in again. It was nice to...chat."
For the first time, Taehyung seems to stumble over his words. As someone who's naturally charismatic, not to mention a skilled actor, there's a hint of nervousness in his voice.
When you turn your head to glance back at him, his smile has faded, replaced by a hopeful look, hands gently clutching the blankets.
"Sure," you agree to his innocent request, somehow unable to resist. "I'll try to stop in tomorrow if I can."
His boxy smile returns instantly as he bids you one final goodnight.
As you walk out of the room, that same smile lingers in your mind—you're glad you decided to come by.
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In the days that follow, you find yourself at Taehyung's hospital bed every evening after work. Initially fulfilling his wishes, you gradually realize you've grown fond of his company. Taehyung turns out to be easy to talk to, a good listener who encourages questions you wouldn't normally ask within office walls. Here you are again, immersed in yet another spontaneous conversation that neither of you minds.
"So, what's it really like?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your voice. "Being an actor? And what about kissing strangers? I've heard some co-stars end up together after playing an onscreen couple for so long."
Taehyung chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Being an actor is both exhilarating and challenging," he begins, reflecting on his experiences. "Kissing scenes... well, they're not as glamorous as they seem on screen. There are a lot of technical aspects to consider, like camera angles and timing. As for getting involved with co-stars outside of filming, I wouldn't be familiar with that. I prefer to keep those lines pretty separate."
You listen intently, fascinated by his insights into a world so different from your own. But one thing sticks out to you—how does he handle kissing scenes if he were to be in a relationship? Wouldn't that get complicated?
"I often wonder what I'd do if I had a partner," Taehyung muses suddenly, his voice thoughtful, as if sensing your unspoken question. "About the kiss scenes, I mean. I haven't actually dated for a while." Really? You think, he cant be serious...
"I'd imagine they'd be understanding since it's part of the job," you offer, trying to match his contemplative tone.
"Is that how you'd respond?" Taehyung's question catches you off guard.
"Me?" you ask, feeling slightly dumbfounded.
"Yeah, I'm just curious. Would you be okay with that?"
"Uhm... well, honestly, probably not," you admit, feeling a bit awkward. "I think I'd have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. I'd kind of feel like I was sharing my partner. I don't want to share like that."
Shut up, shut up, shut up, you mentally chastise yourself. You definitely said too much.
To your surprise, Taehyung merely gives a small smile in response. "I think I'd feel the same," he says softly.
The subject ends there, as the conversation soon shifts to his latest project instead—a romantic comedy series titled with a playful nod to a four-leaf clover.
"You know, I've never seen a four-leaf clover in my life," you admit with a slight chuckle.
Taehyung laughs softly, his eyes brightening. "Really? They're supposed to bring good luck, you know."
"Good luck, huh? I guess I've never had the pleasure," you replied with a grin.
"Well, then it's settled," he declared with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll find one for you once I'm out of here," he promises warmly.
You smile, exchanging a silent moment before hitting him with your next question. "Do you watch your own shows or movies?" you ask, genuinely curious.
Taehyung's expression shifts subtly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Honestly, I don't," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I guess I've always felt a bit awkward seeing myself on screen. It's strange, right?"
You reassure him with a smile. "It's not so far-fetched, but I don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. You're talented, Taehyung. I'm sure your performances are amazing."
Taehyung nods thoughtfully but then quirks an eyebrow at you. "But have you actually seen any of my work? It's a little cheesy."
You hesitate, feeling a touch sheepish. "Honestly, no," you confess. "I've never watched any of your shows or movies. But I will!"
A flicker of déjà vu crosses Taehyung's face, his expression turning thoughtful. "That's funny," he murmurs. "I feel like I've heard those exact words before, recently."
You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood. He can't be referring to that night you spoke to him while he was asleep, right? "Maybe it's just a sign that I need to catch up on all the great acting I've been missing out on," you quip, hoping to diffuse any awkwardness.
Taehyung grins, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I'll hold you to that. You'll have to give me your honest review."
"Deal," you agree with a nod. "So, as much as I hate to cut this short, I think I'm going to have to get going now."
"I understand, it's past 6:30 pm. See you tomorrow?"
"Sure thing," you reply warmly. "Get some rest."
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By Thursday afternoon, you finally receive the long-awaited call from Dr. Min, informing you that Taehyung will be discharged the next morning. You're relieved that Taehyung is healthy enough to continue his recovery at home. Seeing him yesterday, he looked the best he's been since his accident. However, a small part of you feels annoyed that Dr. Min didn't call you—he called Namjoon instead.
It was an ordinary afternoon when your secretary's phone rang. Namjoon was crouched over at his desk, concentrating on a number of spreadsheets just moments before. You remember leaping over to him as soon as you heard the words, "he's ready for discharge tomorrow," leave his lips.
It's now Friday morning, and you're standing in front of your secretary's desk.
"So, you're off to pick up Taehyung now?" you ask, as casually as you can. You do your best to ignore the lingering irritation growing inside you.
"Yeah," your secretary finally replies, glancing up from his screen. "I'll drive over to the hospital in about half an hour."
"Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. So what if Namjoon gets to pick him up instead of you? It's fine, you should get over it.
It's just a little odd that Dr. Min chose to call Namjoon instead of you though. You know for a fact you've been much more involved with Taehyung's well-being than he has.
Of course, Taehyung and Namjoon are good friends, but your secretary has only gone to see him twice over the past week his buddy's been in the hospital. You've been there every day, so wouldn't it make sense that you be called first?
Evidently not.
Namjoon will be taking Taehyung home, and you likely won't be seeing him at all today. In fact, you're not even sure when you'll see him next. Technically, you have his address stored away in an HR file, but you're no creep. And you most certainly are not about to show up at his place unannounced.
It's not like Taehyung has texted you today either. Not even a quick update on his condition.
"Um..." Namjoon starts, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Is there something else you wanted to say? I feel like you're kinda hovering over me now, to be quite honest."
"Oh, sorry," you respond, stepping back a bit. You didn't realize you were staring at him, wordless, for longer than normal. "Nothing else. Drive safe."
As if seeing right through you, Namjoon's expression softens. "If you want to see how Taehyung is, you can just text him. I'm sure he'll respond to you."
"No, it's okay," you quickly dismiss the suggestion. You don't want to bombard a man who's just getting out of the hospital with your texts. You'll leave him alone to rest.
Namjoon gives you a knowing look, eyeing your slightly hesitant state. "I'm serious, boss. Text him. You've been at his side this entire week, so if there's anyone who'd be more deserving of knowing what's up, it’d be you."
Deserving? That's a bit far, is it not? Yes, you've been visiting him, but it's not like you saved his life or anything. It's not that big of a deal. You just wanted to...make sure he was okay.
"I—When did you decide to call me boss again?" you switch subjects, but Namjoon remains unaffected.
"Text him," Namjoon says for the final time before reaching for his keys in his desk drawer. "I gotta get going, but I'll be back after I drop Tae off."
"Tae?" You haven't heard him called that before.
"Yeah, it's kinda a pet name. Sorry, I started calling him that once we became friends, so it slips out here and there. It's like second nature now."
"Got it," you nod, a bit disappointed. Maybe you weren't as close to Taehyung as you thought. "Make sure he gets home okay," you finish.
"I will." Namjoon gets up from his desk and heads out of the office. You turn around and return to your own office once he's out of sight.
While Namjoon is out, his phone rings incessantly. You find yourself getting up from your desk multiple times to take calls. By the afternoon, you're exhausted from the constant interruptions.
Maybe you should consider giving the poor man a raise.
Before the thought fully develops, his phone rings again. You don't even bother checking the caller ID anymore; you simply pick up the phone and answer in your sweetest voice.
"__? I thought I’d be hearing Namjoon first... hey," his voice is hesitant. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."
"Jungkook," you reply cautiously, instantly recognizing his voice. "Why are you calling my work phone?"
"I... I didn't know how else to reach you. Can I come in or can you come into the parking lot? I have something to give you."
You pause, feeling a rush of unease. You haven’t spoken to Jungkook since last Friday when he called you out of the blue. Honestly, you hoped you wouldn’t hear from him, especially after telling him not to call again. It's strange that he keeps finding ways to show up unexpectedly.
"What is it you need to give me, Jungkook?" you ask bluntly, "I'm very busy."
There’s a brief silence on the other end before he answers, "It’s... It’s something personal. I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Please, can you just come down for a moment?"
You weigh your options, torn between curiosity and apprehension. His unpredictability lately has left you unsure of what to expect. "Jungkook, I really don’t think—"
"Please," he interrupts, his voice sounding more urgent. "I promise it won’t take long."
Taking a deep breath, you decide to handle this with as much grace as you can muster. "Fine. I’ll be down in a minute."
You end the call and sit back, trying to steady your thoughts. His sudden request feels odd, and part of you worries about what he might say or do next. As you make your way to the parking lot, you mentally prepare yourself for another potentially difficult encounter.
When you arrive, Jungkook stands near his car, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His usual confident demeanor seems replaced by a sense of unease.
"Hey," he starts, his voice tentative, "thanks for agreeing to meet."
You give a brief nod, keeping your tone neutral. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"
Jungkook shifts awkwardly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours. "I wanted to apologize," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for calling you up drunk."
You feel a flicker of irritation. This is what he wanted to give you? An apology that's seven days late? You figured he would have just forgone the apology by now.
"Why now?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, a defense mechanism you've developed. "It's been a week. I’m not sure if you realize that or not though."
"I know," he says quickly, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to come sooner, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me or just never hear from me again."
You scoff slightly, "Well, for the first time, you are completely right. I don't want to see you, Jungkook." You try to keep your voice steady, but the raw edges of your emotions bleed through. There’s no point sugarcoating it at this stage; he’ll just keep pushing your boundaries if you don’t become firm with him.
He winces at your words, nodding slowly. "You have every right to feel that way. I messed up, big time. I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry. You deserve someone who isn't as screwed up as I am. But I still mean everything I said that night. I do love you. It took me until now to realize that, apparently."
You sigh, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Love? Now? After everything? Somehow, it feels more like a burden than anything.
"Jungkook, love isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card," you say slowly, your voice somewhat shaky. "It's not something you can just throw out there to fix things. Not only did you divorce me, but you also led me to believe we could actually be something. All those weeks of you being attentive and showing up for me after I shared my feelings made me believe that you were honestly trying to make our marriage work, that you were committed. You lied to me, discarded me, and now that I'm not around, you suddenly miss me? No, I'm sorry. You broke my trust, and that's not something you can just apologize away."
You pause, feeling the weight of your words settle in the tense air between you and Jungkook.
He looks down, nodding again. "I get it. I really do. And I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I just wanted you to know that I understand how much I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I understand if you hate me."
You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to stir inside. "Jungkook," you begin carefully, meeting his eyes. "What happened between us was painful. You calling me drunk last week was also painful. I'm sorry about the challenges you had with your parents, but it's no excuse to put that on others. If you need someone to discuss personal matters with, I suggest you see a professional."
You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"I don't hate you, okay? I'm not that cold-hearted. There's still part of me that I think might always hold space for you, but I can't just forget everything. I need to move on, and that means you can't keep calling me at random times. It’s not fair to either of us. I appreciate the apology, but I don't think we can go much further."
He nods solemnly, understanding your stance. "Okay," Jungkook replies softly, his voice filled with a sadness you hadn’t expected. "I understand. I'll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Take care of yourself, okay? I...I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me," he says, his eyes earnest. "And... I'm really sorry for everything."
He begins to back away toward his car, and as he does, it hits you—it’s over.
"Take care, Jungkook," you say gently. "Don't overwork yourself, alright? Stay healthy."
He looks at you, forcing a smile. "You know I can't do that. It isn't in my blood." He sings the last part, referencing a song you both used to joke about, and you let out a small chuckle despite yourself.
"God, Jeon, I thought you'd stop with that song by now." you say, shaking your head.
"Nah," he replies, shaking his head with a faint grin as he opens his car door. "I'm taking it to my grave. I'll see you later, __."
You know the last part is a lie, an empty promise to soften the blow. Still, you respond, "Yeah, see you."
With that, you part ways in the parking lot, each going your separate ways. As you walk back to your office, the weight of the finality settles in. It's all over, you think, feeling the sting of a single tear trailing down your cheek. Unbeknownst to you, a similar tear streams down Jungkook's face as he drives away, each tear falling for completely different reasons.
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Two weeks pass, and Jungkook keeps his word. He hasn’t called, texted, or shown up at your work. It’s as if he’s become a stranger, someone you once knew but is now part of a distant past.
Your days begin to regain a sense of normalcy. The emotional weight of the past few months slowly starts to lift, allowing you to refocus on your work and personal well-being. The company demands your attention, and you dive into projects, meetings, and strategies with a renewed energy.
Yet, despite the return to routine, there's a persistent sense of something missing. You haven’t talked to Taehyung at all since he got discharged from the hospital. You haven’t seen him either, and the silence pulls at you more each day.
Every time you try to get information about him from Namjoon, he gives you the same response: "Just text him. Don’t overthink it; he’ll be glad to hear from you." Once, you sensed that Namjoon wanted to say more but stopped himself short, making the excuse that it wasn’t for him to say. Whatever that meant.
You’re on your way home from running errands when the thought enters your mind for the umpteenth time: should you text Taehyung?
You’re torn between respecting his privacy and wanting to check in on him. He hasn’t reached out, so maybe he’s trying to distance himself or just needs time to recover alone, now that he’s in the comfort of his own home. On the other hand, you can’t shake the feeling that checking in would be the right thing to do.
As you approach your apartment building, you pull over into a quiet parking spot, letting your car idle. Gripping your phone, you take a deep breath and finally decide to text him.
You: Hey, Taehyung. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. Let me know if you need anything. We still miss you at the office!
You stare at the message for a moment before hitting send. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you wait. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he doesn't want to hear from you?
You end up deleting the message entirely.
Forget it, you think, if he wanted to hear from you he would have texted by now, right? Just leave it alone. You said you'd support him while he was in the hospital and you did. Now he needs his space to finish healing. He'll reach out when he's ready.
Your phone buzzes the next minute, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glance at it, half hoping that Taehyung was secretly telepathic. But it isn’t from him. Instead, it’s a notification from a friend inviting you to a small get-together this coming weekend.
Smiling, you accept the invitation.
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Turns out your friend's get-together was a singles mixer. Unsurprisingly, you weren't approached much, if at all. It seemed the men were either too nervous, still associating you with your ex-husband, or not quite into accomplished women. That didn't stop them from ogling you, though, as your friend insisted that you dress for the affair. You didn't choose anything flashy, but it was certainly flattering.
Leaving without a phone number didn't bother you, though. At thirty years old, most of the people were younger than you, including your friend who was a couple of years younger. Plus, you found your mind often wandering to the one man you hadn't heard from in nearly three weeks—Kim Taehyung. Should you stop overthinking and finally listen to Namjoon's suggestion? Maybe it's time to contact him.
Lost in thought on your drive home, you snap back to reality when you slam on the brakes at a sudden red light. Damn, you hadn't noticed it change so quickly. Shaking off any lingering daze, you refocus and spot a man crossing the street ahead, a little dog trotting beside him on a leash.
"Taehyung," you whisper to yourself. "What is he doing out here, especially on this slipper—shit!"
Your heart skips a beat as Taehyung stumbles on the ice, struggling to keep his balance. Concerned, you pull up to the side of the road as soon as the light turns green, parking quickly and jumping out of your car to rush over to him. He leans against a brick building, his dog, Tan, yelping at your approach. Cute little guy, but you're focus is on Taehyung.
"Damn," he mutters, trying to steady himself. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you. "__, I—" he begins.
"What are you doing, Kim Taehyung?" you scold gently. "Are you trying to hurt yourself again?"
Taehyung meets your gaze, his Gucci scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "No," he replies earnestly. "I just needed some fresh air. It's been nearly three weeks since I was discharged, and Dr. Min said short walks with Tan are okay now. My parents were here for a while, but they left this weekend."
His explanation sinks in as you take in his appearance. Despite the chill in the air, he looks better than the last time you saw him. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold, and there's a determination in his eyes that wasn't there before.
"You should be more careful," you reply softly, stepping closer to him. Tan, sensing the shift in attention, continues to bark happily, tail wagging. "Are you okay? My car is right here, if you need me to take you home or anything."
Taehyung nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know, I know. Sorry for worrying you." He gestures to Tan, who is now circling around your legs in excitement. "Tan here doesn't seem to mind the ice at all, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind you either."
You chuckle softly, crouching down to pet the little dog. "Is he usually this friendly?"
"Not at first, no," Taehyung replies, his tone lighter now. He glances down at you, his eyes softening. "I'm glad I ran into you, though. It's been...a while."
You nod, standing to your feet. "It has. I'm glad to see you're doing better."
"I am," he affirms, his gaze steady on yours. "Thanks to you, mostly. You were there for me when I needed it the most."
"Oh, come on," you say, waving off the comment. "I didn't do that much."
Taehyung's smile widens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You did more than you realize."
You feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you maintain eye contact, appreciating the warmth in his gaze. The longer you stand there, staring at each other, the uneasier you feel. Perhaps you shouldn't ask the question that's been on your mind, but it slips out before you can stop it.
"Why didn't you call?" you ask, surprising both yourself and Taehyung as he simultaneously voices the exact same question.
Taken aback by the simultaneous question, you both chuckle nervously, breaking the tension. Taehyung scratches the back of his neck, sheepish.
"I thought about it every day," he admits, his voice quiet but sincere. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me. I already took so much of your time, and I didn't want to ask more from you. So, I asked Namjoon to pick me up from the hospital. I thought maybe it would be better for me to wait for you to reach out and focus on recovering."
You nod, understanding flooding your expression. "I felt quite similar. I thought maybe you asked Namjoon because he's your friend. I didn't want to hound you when you just got released from the hospital, so I decided to let you recover in peace. I guess in the end, I was also waiting for you to reach out with an update of some kind."
Taehyung takes a few seconds to fully absorb your words before replying. "I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes reflecting genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding you. I would have been more than happy with you picking me up instead of Namjoon. I realize that I should have at least reached out to update you instead of going silent. I'd like to think of you as my friend too. But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and I just didn't want to burden you." His gaze becomes downcast as he stares at the ground beneath him.
You're unsure where you find the courage, but you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, gently lifting his face so he meets your eyes. You have to stand on your tiptoes a bit, which he finds endearing.
"I’d like to consider you my friend too, and that means you shouldn't worry about burdening me anymore, Tae," you say softly, your touch lingering momentarily on his face, caught up in the moment. When you realize what you've done, you pull back slightly, flustered. "Um… sorry, I didn't mean to call you that."
"It's okay," he responds, his voice gentle. "I don't mind. You can call me Tae from now on if you'd like. Also, you're not a burden either, you never were to me."
You're speechless for a second before replying. "So, friends then?" you ask. "No more mixed signals and reaching out when we want?"
"I mean, I’d like that as long as you do too," he confirms with a warm smile, though his eyes say there's more that he's left unsaid. You don't notice, however.
"Text me whenever you have something on your mind," he continues.
"I will," you promise. “You too.”
"Definitely.” Taehyung pauses, glancing down at Tan who's decided to lay down by his feet. "So, I was going to take a walk with Tan at the park nearby. Any chance you'd like to join me?" His gaze shifts back to you, hopeful yet uncertain.
"I'd like that," you reply genuinely. "But we're taking my car over, so you don't break a hip on this ice, old man."
Taehyung's mouth gapes open as he shakes his head. "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm only two years older than you. Two!"
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It's surreal.
How much you and Taehyung have started becoming friends, that is.
Almost two months have already passed, and it feels like just yesterday you were merely colleagues, you his boss.
Saturdays have become your day with Taehyung now. While part of you insists it's to prevent him from slipping on the ice again, deep down, you both know there's more to it now that he's almost fully recovered from his injuries.
Each weekend, you find yourselves exploring different parks and streets, swapping childhood stories, and sharing laughter over the dumbest things. Today, however, would be different. With rain threatening to drench the city, Taehyung suggested a change of plans—a cozy movie day indoors. Little did he know, you had a surprise in store for him.
You dash up to the front door, a bag of homemade food in one hand and an umbrella in the other.
Taehyung opens the door with a grin, holding his own umbrella. "Hey! Perfect timing," he chuckles, taking the umbrella from you and gesturing inside. "Come in. It's freezing out there today."
You step inside, shaking off the raindrops and removing your shoes. The warmth of his home envelopes you, a comforting contrast to the chilly rain outside.
"I brought something," you announce, holding up the bag. "Guess what it is?"
Taehyung looks at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Hmm," he muses, pretending to ponder. "Knowing you, it's probably my favorite spicy chicken wings from that place near your office."
"Very close, Tae. Except these chicken wings were made by your favorite person in the whole world," you tease, handing him the bag with a grin.
Taehyung's eyes lit up as he takes the bag from you. "No way," he says, a mix of disbelief and excitement in his voice. "You made them yourself? You're the best, __. Seriously."
"It's the least I could do," you reply with a smile, following him into the living room where the TV flickers. "Besides, it's pouring out there. Movie day with good food seems like the perfect plan."
"Absolutely," he agrees, setting the food down on the coffee table. "I was thinking we could start with that new action flick I heard about."
"Aww, but I thought you said we could watch one of your movies instead?" you argue playfully, sinking into the couch. Tan bounds over, wagging his tail in excitement at the prospect of company. You scratch behind his ears while Taehyung sets up the movie.
"What? I don't remember saying that. Was I drunk that day?" he jokes.
"Well... maybe?" you tease back.
"I told you, __, I don't like watching my own films. It's weird, and half the time it's me kissing the female lead. You're going to need to watch those on your own time," he quips, his tone more serious than intended. The truth is, he really would rather not be there when you watch him kiss his co-stars.
"Alright, alright, getting aggressive over there," you chuckle, not seeing the faint rosy tint that's crept up on his cheeks. "We'll watch the action movie."
As the opening scenes roll, you can't help but steal glances at Taehyung. Despite the seriousness of his recent health issues, he seems more at ease today, a genuine smile gracing his face as he takes a seat beside you. It feels good to see him like this, relaxed and feeling more like himself.
Halfway through the movie, he nudges you gently. "Thanks for coming over today," he says softly, his gaze warm as it meets yours. "And for the food, of course."
"You don't have to thank me," you reply sincerely, nudging him back with a smile. "I'm happy to do it."
Unexpectedly, Taehyung reaches for the TV remote, pausing the scene playing in front of you. "Hey, __," he says, turning to face you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes as they shift from side to side.
"What is it, Tae?" You feel a slight unease, sensing tension. He's once again just staring into your eyes, wordless.
"Do you..." he starts but stops short, his voice trailing off.
"Yes?" You search his face for clues as to what he's trying to say.
"Would you want to go to a party with my family?" he finally asks, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents are hosting to celebrate my recovery, but really it's just an excuse to get the family together."
"So, a family reunion?" Your voice drops slightly, a mix of surprise and...disappointment? Why had you been expecting something different?
"I mean, yes, sort of. You don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly, almost anxiously. "I know it might be uncomfortable for you, but you've been here for me during so much of my recovery. It would mean a lot to have you there. My parents want to meet you too."
"Um... well, I've never been to a family function before," you admit hesitantly.
"You haven't?" Taehyung looks genuinely surprised.
You shake your head. "My family's never been one to do those types of things."
"Well, consider yourself part of my family then. Come with me, __. They'll love you."
"I-I don't know about that," you say softly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. "How can you be so sure that they'll like me?"
"Because I do," he urges gently, "and if I like you, so will they."
You're taken aback by his words, unsure how to respond. Surely he means this in a platonic way. Despite growing closer, you and Taehyung are just friends, setting aside any previous suspicions of romantic interest. Maybe if circumstances were different—if you weren't divorced—then maybe you could entertain the idea.
For now, you'll leave that side of him alone and simply be his friend. You feel a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.
"Okay," you finally say, nodding your head. "I'll come. When is it?"
"They want to do it next weekend, weather permitting. We can carpool if you'd like, or you can take your own car," he offers.
"I'll think about it," you reply, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.
"Great." Taehyung flashes a boxy grin. "Thank you, I was so nervous to ask."
"Of course," you say, offering a tight-lipped smile. Taehyung unpauses the movie, and you return your attention to the TV screen. Minutes following your phone buzzes and a text message from Jimin appears on your screen.
Chim 🐥: __! Hate to be bringing this up, but have you seen the news about Jungkook? Looks like he's preparing to step down as CEO. Did you know about this?"
What? You had no clue.
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a/n: If you are mad at me, well....I'm sorry but pls blame jk instead. But I am hoping you enjoyed! 🥰 vote jjk or kth
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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬
no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton
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withleeknow · 5 months
Note
i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝
me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)
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light years.
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summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.
pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss
as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi
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I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue
I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier
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One.
Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.
While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.
Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.
And above all, he's got you.
You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.
You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.
Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.
"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"
What does he think?
Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.
Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.
It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.
In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.
You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.
Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.
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Two.
Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.
Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.
But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.
He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.
It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.
As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.
He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.
Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.
He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.
"How did it go?" he asks gently.
You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.
"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."
Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.
You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.
Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.
Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.
"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."
Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.
I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.
But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.
"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."
Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.
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Three.
Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.
To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.
You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.
He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?
He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.
You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.
You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."
"Please elaborate."
"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."
Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?
"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."
"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"
And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?
I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.
You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.
For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.
But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.
"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."
Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.
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Four.
Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.
Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.
He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.
You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.
All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.
Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.
"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.
Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.
He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.
You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."
He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.
He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.
Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.
Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.
He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"
"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."
Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.
You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.
"What look?"
"You had a look."
"No, I didn't," Minho insists.
"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"
He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.
"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.
You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."
"What? I'm speaking from experience."
"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"
"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."
Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"
"How do you know they didn't come true?"
"Because..."
Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.
Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.
"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."
There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.
"No, what were you going to say?"
"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.
"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.
What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?
And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.
"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."
He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.
But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.
What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.
Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.
The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.
"I've waited for you long enough."
His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"
You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.
Then it all comes rushing out.
"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."
Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.
If you really love me too.
Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.
He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.
He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.
"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."
You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?
You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"
Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.
Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"
You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.
Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.
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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 06.05.2024]
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librarycards · 2 months
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Hello! I am trying to read “the right to maim” by jasbir k puar and I am getting almost nothing out of it, bc of the depth + breadth of academic concepts :( I’m particularly frustrated by it bc it seems to talk about subjects I think about, talk about and do daily, like disability, transness, and (anti)colonialism. I’m most of the way through the intro and it’s gone almost entirely over my head except for a couple isolated paragraphs that are meaningful.
Do you have any advice for how I can get the most out of this book? My main limiter is time, bc I got it out from the library and it is highly requested so I can’t have it for very long
Hi anon! First of all, in terms of time, I recommend piracy. I recommend it in general. I'm not going to post links here in order to protect the places I use, but dm me if you want them.
If you're having difficulty with the concepts (which makes sense - right to maim is a challenging book!) I recommend going back to basics with some background reading. You can get some of Puar's rec'd background reading from the bibliography, and from the keywords she uses in the preface of the text. a few that I see (i'm looking at the PDF now) include debility, rhizome/rhizomatic, soverignty, biopolitics, homonationalism, impairment [in the disability studies sense], precarity, and neoliberalism. if i was teaching this preface, i'd have students break down each of these terms (and probably others, this is just from a skim) using outside readings. it's totally normal to feel overwhelmed when jumping into a scholarly text w/o any context, and most people who use and cite this book have past experience reading Puar's interlocutors and existing familiarity with this language.
you can get up-to-date while reading using resources in tandem with this text. For example, you can read Puar's discussion of debility at that link to get a sense of the context. You can read a decent summary of Foucault (the coiner of the term "biopower") and his thought at Brittanica. I recommend using Google Scholar for terms you're not familiar with, and taking quick notes so that you don't have to google them all over again each time. if you think you have enough context with a new word but aren't 100%, keep reading and use other clues. think about academic reading like learning a new language. the strategies are very similar! because it basically is.
I recommend using the annotation strategies i just mentioned in this post (and/or developing your own). i also recommend looking up Puar's talks on youtube - she's a well-known scholar who does a lot of events, and has spoken extensively about this book and its genealogy (especially in relation to praxis / Palestinian liberation). You can also read her talk with the hosts of Death Panel, my absolute favorite podcast.
Below, I'm going to give you an example of how I close-read, annotate, and analyze a paragraph from Right to Maim (and, by extension, other academic texts. This strategy may not work for you 100%, but hopefully it gives you some solid suggestions. Overall, remember that learning to read scholarly work takes time. A long ass time. Even when it's about things you've experienced yourself! Academia has its own conventions, verbiage, knowledge base, etc, and it's a learning curve for everyone. Don't expect yourself to read as fast or get as much as someone more familiar with the conventions of academic writing - anticipate reading all of these works many, many times, and getting more with each reading. Progress is more important than perfection, and improvement, even if slow, *will* happen, as long as you don't give up. <3
Below is a quote from the preface to Right to Maim, where Puar lays out her argument. I recommend everyone highlight/remember paragraphs like these (pretty much every ac text will have something like this in the beginning as a roadmap) to anchor their reading practice and help them get the most from a book (emphasis mine):
In The Right to Maim, I focus less on an impor­tant proj­ect of disability rights and disability studies, which is to refute disability as lack, as inherently undesirable, and as the sign, evidence, or fetish of injustice and victimhood. I am not sidestepping this issue. Rather, I centralize the quest for justice to situate what material conditions of possibility are necessary for such positive reenvisionings of disability to flourish, and what happens when those conditions are not available. My goal ­here is to examine how disability is produced, how certain bodies and populations come into biopoliti­cal being through having greater risk to become disabled than ­others. The difference between disability and debility that I schematize is not derived from expounding upon and contrasting phenomenological experiences of corporeality, but from evaluating the vio­lences of biopo­liti­cal risk and metrics of health, fertility, longevity, education, and geography.
In the bolded part, Puar outlines what she's not doing: she's not taking a mainstream (white, colonial) disability studies approach, which is, in her words, to refute disability as "lack." She's stating that her goal isn't simply to prove disabled people as equal to able-bodied people, or to claim that disability can be good and liberating (though it is/can be!). Her point is to look at the conditions in which people become disabled, and stay disabled. Often, these conditions are violent and unjust. Acknowledging this injustice kinda throws a wrench into western models of disability pride.
So, if she's not interested in just arguing that disability ≠ badness, what is she arguing? she's looking, in the latter half of the paragraph, to how people become disabled in multiple ways. One, using the verbiage in the book, she's interested in how people become debilitated - physically incapacitated in a way that may not line up with the social category of "disability"). She's also interested in how "disability" as a social identity is constructed - that is, why do disability rights groups look at Palestinians maimed by the IOF and see an injured civilian, but not a disabled comrade? words and context matter immensely. she's looking at why, and what are the implications.
that last sentence sums up the distinction she's making: "The difference between disability and debility that I schematize is not derived from expounding upon and contrasting phenomenological experiences of corporeality, but from evaluating the vio­lences of biopo­liti­cal risk and metrics of health, fertility, longevity, education, and geography."
the difference, she argues, between disability as western disability studies sees it and debility as experienced by people under colonial occupation isn't because we experience our bodyminds differently, or because Palestinians (for example) magically aren't as hurt by occupation as their white/western counterparts would be. rather, the reason she's using debility over disability is because the category of disability isn't objective: it's informed by biopolitical forces such as the ones she listed. her meta-argument is that what we call "disability" can't be divorced from its settler colonial context, not because colonized peoples are immune to disabling violence, but because the category of disability (and health, and violence) is itself affected by settler colonialism.
in "right to maim," Puar is offering a major shift in the way we collectively discuss disability, because the category is not applied equally across sociopolitical, geographical context. it means Palestinians and others living under occupation are either left out entirely, or unsuccessfully co-opted into western-/colonizer-centric disability discourse that doesn't acknowledge the different conditions under which they live. ultimately, "right to maim" means to make that difference, and its implications, visible.
Let me know if this makes sense! it's wordy and tedious, but lots of academic texts are. i hope that breakdown helps you make some more sense of Puar's main argument/the architecture of the text, and maybe serves as a model for future engagement. :)
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captainfern · 1 year
Note
May i request your majesty 🐈..
Cosy! Sfw (or if you find a way to make it NSFW then go wild) headcanon/ imagine of fem! Reader, reading to the boys every night or after a mission?? Like.. so mother ?? Bc they mostly fight and train and wrestle so, they have a lil calm, story time moment with the reader ??
Ugh I’m reading a book rn and thinking I just wanna mother these boys and read them a story!! Babies !!!
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"This Is Not A Book Club"
141 x gn!reader [platonic!]
[Imagines 1]
[SFW]
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• summary - what the request says :) • rating - sfw • wordcount - 1.8k • warnings - ik the request is for fem!reader but no specific pronouns/gendered language are used in this, pet name "love" is used once tho, strong language, no smut sorry fellow whores ✋
this idea is so fucking cute i just had to write it omfg. also i love that gif soap and ghost's interactions are just too adorable *pat pat*
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You didn't mean for it to become a habit.
It began on a whim.
After a strenuous mission, you relaxed in your respective room, curled up in your bed, reading a book. The main light was off, and you relied on the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside table. It was a relatively new book— you were only a chapter or so in— when a light knock at your door made you jump.
You hadn't been expecting it. It was pretty late, too.
You were surprised when Gaz poked his head in, apologising for interrupting. He figured he could unwind in your room, since the rest of the 141 were doing their own thing, and he needed some company.
You accepted, of course— how could you not when he looked at you with those deep brown eyes?
He settled on the bed next to you, sprawling himself across it near your feet. You laughed as he sighed, face buried in your duvet. He lifted his head, peering at you quizzically.
"What are you reading?" He asked.
You held the book up. "I... honestly don't know. It's pretty good, so far though."
He hummed, intrigued, as he scooted closer to you, head now resting parallel to your thighs.
"Read to me?" He asked, long eyelashes casting shadows across his cheekbones beneath the lamplight.
You smiled. "I'm two chapters in."
"That's okay," he muttered. "Just fill me in on what's happening."
You did, explaining the last couple of chapters in as much detail as possible. You then told him what the book was about, reading the little summary on the back. By this stage, his head was now resting on your lap atop the blanket, hand cupping your slightly bent knee.
"Right, okay," he said. "Now you can read from where you were reading."
You chuckled at his enthusiasm for you to hurry up and begin. So, you obliged, reading a couple of chapters before his breathing slowed. You looked away from your book, realising that he had fallen asleep, head still resting in your lap. You smiled, gently patting his head.
He mumbled incoherently.
"Gaz, come on, you fell asleep," you giggled, nudging him. "You need to go to bed."
He yawned, forcing himself to sit up. His eyes drooped, bleary with drowse as he stumbled off of your bed.
"Fine, but I'll be back for the next chapter tomorrow." He muttered, leaving with his eyes barely open.
The next evening, at roughly the same time, Gaz found his way into your room again. This time, with Soap in tow.
"Soap?" You greeted skeptically.
"Gaz said you're reading to him. I like a good storytime, too." He smiled, sprawling himself out on the rug beside your bed. He didn't give you any room for argument as Gaz resumed his place resting against your lap.
"Oh...kay... do you want me to fill you in?" You asked as you grabbed your book from your bedside table.
Soap shook his head. "No, no, don't worry. Gaz filled me in on the way here."
You laughed. "Of course he did."
So that's how you began reading to both Gaz and Soap. That night, Soap did much the same as Gaz did previously by falling asleep— face to the ceiling, stretched out on your plush rug. His soft snores prompted your eyes away from the pages. Gaz, too, was drifting in and out of consciousness.
You closed the book gently. "Okay, you two, time for bed."
Gaz got up without much of a fuss, but he had to shake Soap to get the man to cooperate. Soap grumbled and complained the entire time Gaz hoisted him to his feet. Then, still muttering grumpily under his breath, he let Gaz lead him out of the room.
The next day really confused you.
Both Gaz and Soap turned up, and once they were comfortable in their usual positions, a soft knock echoed through your room. Soap opened the door for Price, much to your astonishment.
"You too?" You questioned as your captain took up position in your desk chair, near the foot of your bed.
He relaxed in the chair, legs spread and arms folded across his chest.
"Got nothing else to do, love." He said simply, imploring you to pick up the book with a nod of his head.
You were in slight disbelief, but nevertheless, you continued with the book. While Gaz and Soap relaxed, listening to the peaceful lull of your voice, Price asked the occasional question. You stopped patiently and replied, ignoring the frustrated groans from Soap on your floor.
"Just shut up and listen, Price."
"Watch it, MacTavish."
Not long later, you managed to finish the chapter before Soap fell asleep. You waved them all goodbye as they filed out of your room, and you forced yourself not to laugh as they did.
Now, if you were confused before, the next day threw you completely.
Once again, Gaz lay sprawled out on your bed beside you, Soap on the floor with his arms behind his head. Price returned, too, taking his place in your chair. Then, just one word into the newest chapter, the door creaked open.
Ghost slipped in, almost silently, and you couldn't help but gape at your lieutenant as he lumbered into the room, cozy black hoodie on and hands jammed into the front pocket.
"L.T, I knew you couldn't resist," Soap beamed from the floor. "You want in on the book club?"
You scoffed, smiling. "This is not a book club."
Ghost just shrugged at Soap. "Lonely outside when I can't hear you lot making a racket."
He stepped over Soap and sunk himself onto the end of your bed, leaning himself up against the wall. He stretched his legs out, brushing your and Gaz's feet, knees cracking as he settled down.
You stared at everyone, slightly dumbfounded. Then, you turned to Ghost.
"You're... here willingly?" You asked him.
"Mhm."
"You... willingly want to listen to me read my book?"
"Mhm."
You took a deep breath. "Right, okay, cool. Um, do you need—?"
"Johnny's given me a rundown." He mumbled.
Of course he had.
And that's how it started, just over two weeks ago. Every night, especially after a particularly rough mission, the boys seemed to gravitate to your bedroom. They'd curl up and listen to your soft voice as you read to them; reading them to sleep on many occasions.
Despite Ghost and Price's lack of enthusiasm compared to Soap and Gaz, you could tell they enjoyed it just as much as the younger two did. It made you smile, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside knowing you could bring these hardened military boys some peace and comfort.
"Okay, so you're telling me, the kid didn't even know he was a wizard?" Price asked, leaning forward in his chair.
You laughed. "No, he didn't. Well, now he does."
"Ridiculous." Price muttered, shaking his head.
Ghost scoffed. "It's unrealistic."
Soap rolled his eyes. "Obviously, Ghost, it's a fucking fictional book about wizards an' shite."
"No, I mean, some big cunt with a beard turned up with a fucking ugly cake and told the kid he's a wizard, and the kid just believed him?" Ghost grumbled. His attitude had definitely shifted since the first time he joined their little, as Soap called it, book club.
"Yeah, basically." You smiled.
You had just introduced them to the Harry Potter series. You weren't even halfway through the first book yet.
"Ridiculous." Ghost said, echoing Price.
"Well, what would you have done, eh?" Soap questioned, sitting up, now cross-legged on the fluffy rug.
"What, if a big cunt called Hagrid turned up on my eleventh birthday and told me I'm a wizard?" Ghost mused. "Woulda knifed him, Johnny."
"Whatever." Soap scoffed.
When they weren't arguing about the book you were reading them, the night's with the boys were really peaceful. Relaxing, too.
A balm for their tortured souls, and a salve for the wounds they had earned during battle.
Dusk would fall, and they would limp into the comfort of your bedroom, warm and smelling sweetly of you. Waves of exhaustion would pin them in place while they clung to the presence of you for stability. Some days, all four would find themselves curled up on your bed— Gaz laying next to you, head on your lap; Soap on the floor, but his head resting on the edge of your bed, a hand resting in the crook of your arm as you held the book; Ghost with his back to the wall, your legs propped up over his, his gloved hands stroking circles on your shins; Price settled next to Ghost, shoulder to shoulder, his legs beneath yours as well, a hand resting warmly around your ankle.
They listened carefully, silently, as you read to them, basking in the comforting warmth of you. Battered, bruised, and bleeding from the cuts of battle, they rested tranquilly at your side. Their ears were no longer ringing with echoes of explosions, nostrils no longer filled with the acrid stench of gunpowder and death. They could hear only you, voice silken with each word you spoke. They could smell only you, the candles that burned and permeated the air, rich and sweet and a consoling sense of familiarity.
Towards the end of a chapter, you could sense a shift in the room. Some time ago, Soap had wiggled in beside you, head in the bend of your arm and shoulder. He breathed deeply, slowly, eyes closed and hair dishevelled against the sleeve of your shirt. Gaz, too, breathed slowly as sleep had overtaken him, hand still heavy on your knee.
Ghost had slumped to the side, somehow managing to tuck his hulking frame between Gaz and the wall. Mask still on, you could see his eyes, closed and smeared with black. Price, too, had fallen asleep; still, impressively, sitting upright. His head tilted forward, hat low over his forehead, snoring softly.
You sighed to yourself, closing the book and carefully putting it back on your nightstand, mindful not to disrupt Soap curled into your side like a cat. You nestled back into your bed, snuggled up with your task force, a sight you had never thought you'd see. As you wiggled to get comfortable, Soap stirred, groaning as he looked up at you, still resting his head near your chest.
"S'all right, go back to sleep." You whispered, angling your arm so it draped securely over top of him.
He didn't reply verbally, just burrowed deeper into your side, reaching a hand around to physically tighten your arm around him. He ran his thumb over your knuckles, before he fell back asleep.
Your other hand found Gaz's head, delicately skimming his hairline, smoothing along the soft skin of his forehead and cheek. You heard him sigh contentedly, still deep asleep.
Eventually, the warmth of the room and powerful bodies around you carried you to sleep.
And it was the best sleep you ever had.
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idk if this was good or not lmao but thank you my darling anon <3 this was nice to write mwah mwah xx
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eustasskidagenda · 11 months
Note
Hi, I dunno if it's the case or not, but maybe u have some pegging HCs for Sanji, Kidd, Law & Ace, I'm so obsessed with this kink orz. Tyyy! Anon or not, I don't mind.
Hello! I must admit it was quite challenging to write this, because I never thought about how they would act in this situation. I tried not to detail that much for Kid bc I also have to write an OS with Kid+pegging and I'll develop more of my thoughts in this fic. Anyway, I hope the result will match your expectations, thank you for requesting. ☆
☆Pegging HCs for Sanji, Kid, Law & Ace
CW : g/n reader, MDNI, smut, pegging, Kid is cursing obviously, oral sex (Sanji receiving), rough sex, gentle sex, hair pulling, rimming (Sanji, Law receiving) , fingering (Sanji , Law,  Ace, receiving), slight dirty talk, praises. Let me know if I forgot something
WC : 1,9k
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Sanji
Well, it's Sanji we're talking about. As long as you don't ask him a threesome with Zoro or to inflict you any kind of pain, he's willing to try and do everything for the sake of making you smile. He doesn't care about what people think and say.
Please, don't go for the biggest size, he has never done that before. He will choose it with you, just to make sure it’s the perfect size. He's likely a little agitated because he's a huge soft boy, but it's fine, he trusts you. 
"Are you sure the door is locked?" 
There's no way for him to be caught.
Sanji is fond of holding your hands, kissing you softly, and looking at you with pure adoration in his eyes, even when he's rough. He expects you to do the same. Take your time to explore his entire body. Kiss his neck, run your fingers through his hair, feel the softness of his hair, and squish on his nipples. That's what causes shivers to run down his spine.
Prepare yourself to hear the most delightful moans and whines when you begin to stroke his cock while rimming and fingering his hole. Sanji is a whiny mess; he just can't control how good it actually feels. His cock is hard, almost painfully hard as he praises you for the good job you're doing. 
If you ask him, he prefers to see your face and eyes, but if you want, he doesn't mind being on all fours or whatever. 
Please let him rest on his back, with his beautiful, strong legs wrapped around your waist. He will ask you to hold his hand, fingers tightly entwined as you start to push the dildo  covered of lube inside him. Imagine him moaning loudly with completely red cheeks as he indulges in a whole world of new sensations. It feels so good, he can't help but start begging for more, harder, and faster. The feeling of your skin against his, your wet kisses, gentle touch, and firm grip on his legs or hips is too much for this poor man. "Plus fort, je t'en prie." (Harder, please) Will come fast and hard.
During the aftercare, you have to keep him back from running into the kitchen to cook something for you. Just hold him tightly and hug/praise him for how good he was. He needs reassurance and to make sure you had a good time too.
And then, he'll run into the kitchen anyway.
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Kid
Kid is not against pegging. He's being portrayed as a punk, and punks like nonconformism. So maybe the society is not really open-minded about pegging, but Kid doesn't give a damn. If he wants to do something, then he'll do it. He doesn't believe in gender roles. 
However, Kid cares way too much about his reputation and he knows it could ruin all his notoriety, so he really has to trust you to let you peg him. It will only happen after a certain time in your relationship because Kid is slow to both open-up and offer his trust: he has been betrayed so many times, he's just unable to take his guard off immediately.
You better take the bigger size, he's not a pussy. If you try to choose a normal or less size, he's so pissed off. "You really think I can't take it? Ugh, fuck off, I won’t do it."
It doesn't matter if you're pegging him: he's still the same stubborn hot-headed mess. If you give him an order, he'll get mad. You should use your hands to gently guide him if you need him to spread his legs or roll onto his stomach because words won't work. Like "Kid, please spread your legs" And his only answer is an angry scowl and low grunt. But if you use your hands then… he’ll comply.
And let's say the view is quite interesting, because Kid is named Eust-ass for a reason. His booty is incredibly juicy. It's a gift to see his beautiful body being offered to you. He probably prefers lying on his back because he rarely uses his robotic limb in bed. It's easier to stay still or just breathe if he can remain on his back.
"Ugh, I don't need lube, nor rimming, nor fingering, I'm not a wimp"
He’s a liar. Please use lube.
Kid is the king of low grunts, growls, and shaky breath whenever he fucks you. If you peg him, if it feels too good, maybe you'll hear him moaning. Moans that are really low and husky.  Do not dare make a comment about his moans, or you'll never hear them again.
He likes rough sex, so go ahead and bite him or pull on his hair. He will secretly enjoy it. As he loves leaving marks on your body, he also likes when you do the same. But do not dare to humiliate him by calling him a good pet, slut, or whatever because it is not okay in his book. No one can humiliate him and if you try, the mood is just ruined. Do not try to control his orgasm or whatever. His only answer would be to show you his manicured middle finger.
If you start to praise him for how amazing his ass is or how well he's taking you, he gets totally flustered. If he's lying on his back with his hair spread out around the pillow, you can take a look at his red cheeks in embarrassment. "Shut up."
When he's all flustered and flushed, he's so cute. He's just not used to being praised, so he doesn't know how to react.
Regardless, rest assured that he will enjoy every second of this moment. He feels nervous at the end because he can't help but overthink the idea of being betrayed. Just reassure him and he'll let you rest your head on his chest.
And sure, he'll make sure to fuck you hard later. Whatever you give it to him, he will give it to you harder.
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Law
Well, Law is a little more complicated. Sure, he's not totally against the whole idea, but as Kid, he's really slow to open up, and winning his trust is not an easy task. Of course, he knows where his prostate is. He's not stupid and is perfectly aware of how the anatomy works. He's literally a doctor. But that doesn't change the fact that he's aloof and distrustful. 
The first time you talk about your fantasies of pegging him, it's too sudden and off guard, so the answer is automatically "no." He can't take a decision without taking some time to think about it. After that, he becomes somewhat suspicious. To take things slowly is the best thing you can do. Don't rush him or he won't accept.
The idea will slowly but surely make its way through his mind. Of course, you don't know what's going on in his mind. 
(If you wanna know : he's searching for the perfect dildo without telling you anything.)
One day, you're in bed together and he suddenly shows you the dildo he bought. "Hey, y/n-ya, do you still want to try this thing called pegging?" 
He is secretly hoping that you forget about your fantasies.
When you say 'yes', he thinks he's totally doomed, but it's fine. He's willing to at least try. 
Law is completely flustered if you ask him to lay on his back. He will always turn his head to avoid crossing your gaze. Imagine him with soft red cheeks. And if he is on his stomach or on all fours, maybe he will feel a little more comfortable and relaxed because you can't see his reactions. Despite this, he's also nervous because he's unable to closely observe what you're doing. And this man is so stressed, he likes to have the control all the time. 
"Don't forget the lube y/n-ya.", "you know, even if it's a toy, you have to put a condom on" He can't help but guide you. He must feel in control even in this situation, otherwise, he will overthink and you will never be able to enter even one finger inside him.
Ho honestly wants to 'room, shambles' and disappear while you trace his tattoos with your fingers, pinch his nipples, and leave a trail of hot kiss along his happy trail. Law is always tensed and stressed, so he needs a lot of gentle touch to relax enough. The best thing you can do for him is to suck his cock while fingering him, or even rimming. He's so embarrassed, but it feels good. He can't lie.
When you finally enter him, he doesn't moan or grow, he's all about low, deep, husky breaths. It feels good, the toy is hitting his g-spot with each thrust. The moment you glance at him, he wants to bury his head under the pillow. His hair is messy and he is beautiful, with his eyes flashing of both annoyance and pleasure. 
"Does it feel good to be fucked in the ass?" 
Law.exe has ceased to function.
He's going to end up with his legs wrapped around your waist, pressing his feet against your back to force you to move faster and harder. You can sense his legs shaking with pleasure. If you play with his nipples or stroke his cock, it's over, he won't hold back.
Again, he's so embarrassed with his belly covered in his own semen. He just wants to disappear. And he would never admit he loved every single one from this moment. 
If you want to peg him again, you'll have to take the initiative. 
"Ugh fine, y/n-ya, we can do it again." He'll pretend to be doing a great favor to you (he's a great actor).
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Ace
Ace, like Sanji, is willing to try almost anything for you because he's a sweetheart. Actually, the only problem is that he doesn't know what 'pegging' means. His first reaction is to ask Marco what it means, as he doesn't want to look foolish in front of you. As soon as he knows, well... 
"Hey y/n, you want to peg me?" Out of nowhere, in the middle of the dinner. He's impulsive, he can't keep his thoughts to himself, so hey, deal with it.
No matter what you ask, he will do it. But don't choose the biggest size because poor Ace can't figure out how something that big could fit inside his body.
Ace is playful, so what's going to happen is not a big deal for him. He wants to laugh with you while you put your strap on, and will make random comments while you thrust your fingers in and out his ass. "Remember when I burst into flames the first time we fucked? Hope it won't again."
Damn, you hope as well.
He's a cutie with his freckled cheeks completely red.
As your figure looms over his body, he can't help but think you're absolutely beautiful. He feels so lucky to have you by his side and to feel comfortable with you. How could a good thing happen to him? He is not worthy of you. His eyes are filled with pure admiration and love for you. And a spark of amusement, obviously.
Loud moans, he doesn't care if he's being noisy. Hair is totally messy on the pillow. Shaking legs and shaky breaths.
His voice is beautiful and soft as he moans.
If you give it to him harder, his cock will remain painfully hard.
Of course, he is capable of controlling his DF, but the sensations are too unfamiliar and overwhelming." Whoops, I burned the bedsheets" with a cute laugh. That was your favorite bedsheet, but you can't be mad at him, he's so adorable.
Will ask you the permission to cum because he's a good boy. 
And totally willing to be pegged again. 
Ace's goofiness will make Marco know everything. "Marco, I did this thing called 'pegging' and it's amazing. Have you already given this a shot? You should try!"
Poor Marco, leave him alone, he cares about his privacy.
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hibischush · 3 months
Note
Hello! Have you got any kissing headcanons for Eiland, March, and any romanceable you'd like? Thank you! :3
Ohhhh yes yes I do! I did the "spin the wheel" for the rest of the romanceables because I literally couldn't choose they're all so lovable already. Adeline was the chosen one so I guess we have a sibling special today lmao 🌺
Also, some of these are a bit suggestive, so⚠️minors proceed with caution!⚠️
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Eiland
at first I feel like Eiland would be very gentlemanly when kissing you
Like after one of your first few dates he definitely leaned down and kissed your hand
bro is literally courting you like its the regency era
I think that it would take him awhile to gather up to kiss you
But I wholly support the idea that you initiate your first kiss
Like this is an outta-nowhere-unplanned-spontaneous kiss
Because Eiland would be the type to plan out extravagant dates to be memorable
I think you would kiss him for the first time when he's busy explaining (in great depth) the history behind an artifact at the dig sites
His eyes were just so bright and his voice was so animated and passionate and his lips were just
irresistible
You cut him off with a quick chaste kiss and oh man
His expression was priceless
He was so shocked and his face immediately heated up
Eiland was speechless for longer than you expected and you asked if he was okay
"I...yes! Of course! I just..." he pauses, thumbing the bottom of your lip while leaning closer and whispering, "I want to properly kiss you this time, with my full attention."
Once kissing became as natural as breathing air, Eiland kisses you more confidently
He almost always uses one hand to cradle your face and another to pull you closer by the waist
His favorite place to kiss you is your lips, but he is not picky in the slightest
When things heat up, I think he would be a... lip biter
BLASPHEMY I KNOW. A NOBLE LORD SUCH AS EILAND?!
He'd also kiss and nibble on your neck as long as you're fine with it
March
March 100% kisses you before you both are official
Bc he's a silly impulsive little tsudere
and to be clear its obvious that March likes you at this point, and you reciprocate
You want him to bring it up though because he will deny that he likes you lmao
Like you both were hanging out near the fountain in town and the tension is so thick that you could slice through it with a sword
heavy eye contact, fleeting touches, sly comments, etc.
you are breaking this man down
"You are so cute, March," you giggle, shoving him aside playfully
He blushes and pushes you back, almost defensively
"S-shut up. You just don't take me seriously, idiot."
Alright. This guy--
You're tired of his bs
"God, March," you groan, "you want to kiss me so damn bad it makes you look stupid!"
He fumes, before grabbing you by your shoulders and hesitating for a second
before you can say anything, his lips crash against your own
it was short but passionate
"Not so stupid now, huh?"
Anywhoozies
March is a very passionate guy, especially for you
While I believe he is a rough kisser when feeling extra...loving (purely out of desperation btw)
I think his favorite place to kiss you is on your nose 🥺
Especially as goodnight kisses
Adeline
Prefacing this with Adeline is lovely kisser
She always kisses you with purpose and emotion
You're her favorite person, and you help her relax when she can physically love on you
Your first kiss with Adeline was after a nice candlelit dinner after you two had been dating for awhile
Also just another hc I'm going to throw in here:
I think Adeline really enjoys ball room dancing
She used to do it more when she was younger and didn't have to watch over Mistria
So afterwards she asks if you would like to dance (ofc you accept)
While dancing and enjoying such a tender moment with Adeline, you noticed that she faltered and slowed to a stop
You quietly ask her if she was alright, and she looks at you with such warmth it made your heart race
"May I kiss you?"
When you nod your head yes, she smiles, wrapping her arms around your neck, as her eyelids flutter close and she gives you a soft lingering kiss
Afterwards you both kiss often, often short but sweet
Like kisses on the cheek in passing since the both of you are often busy
Adeline loves to kiss you on your cheek!
And she loves to receive kisses on her forehead
When you both have the alone time to be intimate, Adeline kisses you like you're her first breath of air after resurfacing from water lemme tell ya
The pair of you don't get much alone time together so she makes the most of it!
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In conclusion, I am in love with them all. I honestly don't know which romanceable I'll go for in my first playthrough, I guess we'll all have to wait until August 5th 🥲
Side note: what is the God in this game. Using "God" just sounds weird as an interjection
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mayuichi · 9 months
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“That... is the silliest thing I have ever heard of you.„
Tighnari x Reader No warning!
note: i wrote it last night but bc of a bug it posted only the very beginning and didn't saved, so i had to rewrite it after crying A LOT.
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Official art from Hoyoverse!
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Cuddling in his very little home, you feel his tail brush against your arm in a loving way. You can't help but smile.
You can't spend too much time together, but you know when he tells you he'll make some time for you, he definitely will. He loves you so dearly, he can't imagine his life without you.
Yet today, you managed to make him cuddle with you while working. How ? Well, what a stupid question! You're his beloved partner, he can't resist you.
You both sit on his bed, he moved the coffee table in front of it. Writing on a paper carefully, he keeps an arm around your waist and let you press your head against his shoulder. His ears move every so often.
Listening to the pen against the paper, you stare at his notes. You could see some animals name written on, but everything else make you confuse. You look up at him, tilting your head in a way to ask what is that supposed to be. “What's that?„
He gives you a rapid glance, chuckling under his breath. “Well, that's... A report I'm working on.„ you glare at him, rolling your eyes just then. “I know that, idiot.„
He doesn't try to hide his amusement, his tail gently wagging from left to right and occasionally caressing your arm. “What is it exactly ?„
He suddenly becomes much more serious than you expected him to be. “That.. Is a report of every animals and their state in the forest.„ thinking you'd understand properly why, he sighs when he sees your confused expression.
“Since winter is coming fast, some animals like birds leave for more warm environment, while some others choose to hibernate. All that because food is becoming rare in the cold. And they do so before coming back or waking up once the weather warms up.„ he explains as easily as possible, keeping his loving gaze to you.
You hum in response, “So... You're the one in charge to check on them?„ he nods. “As the Chief Officer, I am the more capable of it. The other Forest Rangers are good too, of course, but... They do not know the forest as well as I. So to avoid any issue, I took that responsibility.„
“Yes, I see you haven't read the book I have lend you a few weeks ago.„ he seems disappointed. He had lend you a book to read about the Avidya Forest, everything to know about it. And you couldn't help but feel embarrassed to have been caught so easily by your own curiosity.
His dedication is so heartwarming to you. He could be as cold as ever when teaching someone a lesson, yet he's so loving towards you. He couldn't just scold you, right ? That.. Is the whole reason why you want to have fun a little.
“So... Why don't you hibernate ?„ you grin, holding your laugh in as he tilts his head, his tail slowing down a little. “You know.. Since you're a fennec fox...„
His tail abruptely comes to a stop, and he shoots you a death stare. Letting his pen fall, he pushes you down on the bed, forcing you under him as he pins your hands above your head with one of his. The other slides up your side to your neck, just to take a grip of your chin in between his thumb and index.
“That... is the silliest thing I have ever heard of you. I may be a fennec fox, but only partially.„ he leans dangerously closer, straddling your waist. “And for your information... Fennec foxes do not hibernate.„
You could swear you saw a smirk adorning his face for a split second, but it was too short to be sure. He brings you in a feverish yet passionate kiss, demanding and forcing entry to your mouth to claim ownership over it.
His hand at your chin caresses your cheek, while the other keeps you down. Finally breaking a way, you're left panting. He sits up once again, taking his pen. His tail flaps once more against the mattress, and his ears flicker at each sound.
He delights in your whimpers, knowing he left you wanting more. But he clearly doesn't plan to give you anything. You hurry to sit up and tug at his shirt, whining how much you want more.
But he's quick to shut you up by kissing you once more. “If you let me finish my work, I promise to satisfy all your needs tonight.„ your eyes sparkle with hope. “Promise promise?„
He chuckles quietly, carefully placing his free hand above yours. "Promise promise, yes, even if I find it silly." but what he finds even sillier is the way you suddenly behave obediently.
Carefully and slowly, he cups your chin with his hands, his pen slightly glinding across your skin. “Plus, don't you remember too ? Fennec foxes have only a mate for life. And mine, it's you.„
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/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuichi's property. do not repost, copy or translate without permission.
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hwanchaesong · 5 months
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Altschmerz Teaser
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a/n: imma give you a sneak peek for now to give y'all some idea about my works (i'm terribly sorry bc like i said, i type so slow idek why and my brain lags every 5 mins) this is an apology i can manage for the mean time 😭😭 pls do not hesitate to tell me, whatever means, if you wanted to be added to the taglist, tysm! 🥀✨
genre: angst, fluff, smut, university au, part of the ATEEZ Minisode Series
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It is a good day to live and breathe like any normal person.
The weather is actually nice, a little cloudy with a nice touch of spring air, the skies are bluer than Taylor Swift's eyes and said singer's song titled 'The Man' is blasting through your earphones. You feel vigorous, your pristine white uniform for your medical course gives you a certain glow. Your classes went well, acing all of the assessments without much studying done, oh, truly a lucky day for you.
Then all hell breaks loose when your lovely friend, Felix, spills the tea during lunch at the cafeteria, his thick aussie accent that you usually love screeched like a racing car's tire in your ears.
"I heard that Kim Hongjoong of the music department has a crush on you."
"What the fuck?"
He held his hands up, explaining that he heard it while passing by their building. The way people narrated the 'girl' sounds exactly like you, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the information as Felix lists out the descriptions that caught his ears.
'She's from the Allied of Health and Sciences department.'
'She's really intelligent and kind, well, that's what the professors had said.'
'A fluent speaker! Shy at times but really bubbly with her friends.'
"I did say that I want some spice in my boring college life but not like this!" you exclaimed, stabbing a kimchi with your fork and aggressively eating it, the spice further heating your head up.
"Not like what?" just then, your other friend Lily, sat down beside you with her own tray of food.
"Felix here is spreading some fake news, he said that someone named Kim Hongjoong has a crush on me." you explained, side eyeing the freckled man before continuing to eat the remainder of your lunch.
"Oh yeah, he does. Some people are already shipping you together."
Then you choked at Lily's nonchalant reply, making her grimace and pat your back as an attempt to soothe your burning pharynx.
You did not expect her to agree at all, and you made sure to tell her that with the way you glared at her.
"He's not that bad, yes he is a music major like Hee-" you stare at her hard, not wanting to hear that specific name. Lily clears her throat and rephrases her sentence, "It is true that he is a music major, but you don't have to lump them all in one category. He's nice, my cousin knows him."
Felix nods, gulping his food before speaking, "Plus, it's just a crush. It's not like he's gonna court you all of a sudden."
They have a point, you don't have to make a big deal out of it. Besides, it's a rumor, most of the time it's plain bullshit.
You need to calm down. You're having a great day, a great start of the semester and you'll be damned if it'll be ruined this early.
Then the students at the library squealed like dying squirrels when they saw you enter. The other music majors at the university gates gave you a wink, hell, even one of the freshmen congratulated you and even said, 'You and Hongjoong-hyung will look good together!'
You mustered a smile throughout the ordeals, opting to finish the day peacefully like how you started it. Whatever happened today shall pass.
Well.. it should be but then you find yourself stalking the man's social media. You have already found his facebook, twitter, instagram, even his fucking youtube account (he has uploaded some guitar covers and you have to admit he's great at playing the instrument.)
You could defend yourself and blame curiosity later, but now, you'll indulge in some information that you could find on the internet. Surely you haven't seen him before, his face is unfamiliar, heck, you don't even know his name, not until your friends brought it up today.
Kim Hongjoong. A music major born on November 7, plays a lot of musical instruments, can write lyrics and is also a good producer. He sings, raps and dances (he was tagged in a dance cover on instagram, courtesy of someone named Park Seonghwa.) A passionate one in his career you assume as you watch one of his vlogs on facebook. You also listened to his recordings posted in his accounts, and you have to give him applause for his aesthetic instagram account.
He takes nice photos of his surroundings, even himself, and he does know how to make himself look good. He definitely knows the colors that suit him, outfits that make him stand out yet fully blended in the crowd if he wanted to. His hair is also unique, seems healthy despite the dyes that had stayed there for months before being layered by another one.
You lie on your bed, thinking that maybe the man himself isn't that bad. That you may have judged him early prior to knowing him. A fault on your part but it's not like you're going to meet or get to know him or the likes, you were simply curious about him and now that you have seen that his surface isn't dry nor rotten, your curiosity shall now die before the cat inside you does... and it's 3 in the fucking morning and you have 7 am classes so really, you'll still die either way.
What you did not expect though, as you wake up at 6:00 am, getting ready with max speed, was a notification that had you stumbling over your feet.
'Hongstagram has followed you back!'
Follow you back what? Since when did you follow him on his instagram?
You were careful! Very careful in what you were clicking and all that shit, not wanting to leave a trace of your visit in his social media accounts but you were so fucking wrong. You could blame the fuzzy feeling of drowsiness but you were so sure that you didn't click anything out of the ordinary.
Fuck your life.
That was your motto all day long, going as far as being dramatic with your friends during lunch break. Rambling about how he'll think you're a creep for stalking him or, or, how he'll think that you're interested in him when you swear to every rat out there that you're most certainly not.
It was horrible, except for the fact that you gotta eat coffee jelly for dinner because your father bought tons during a sale in the grocery and he couldn't resist his sweet tooth ass to buy some desserts.
Maybe you can sleep all of this away, yes, one night of beauty sleep will rejuvenate all of your worries except when Kim Hongjoong himself messaged you.
You jumped up from your bed when you accidentally tapped the notification on the upper half of your phone, due to your persistent tapping all over the screen because fuck that chop chop filter in tiktok (you're pretty sure you can cut that cucumber up to 200), opening the message and you contemplated whether to left it on read or be polite enough to reply.
You chose the latter, not really wanting for your name to be tarnished if this Hongjoong guy goes around and says that you're a snob.
Hongstagram: Hey Y/N! Sorry to disturb you, but may I talk to you tomorrow?
You: Good evening Hongjoong! I'm sorry my sched is kind of packed tomorrow, you can tell it now though.
Hongstagram: It's kind of embarrassing to say it through dms.
Oh my god. No fucking way. He's gonna confess.
Hongstagram: But okay, here goes nothing.
Hongstagram: I heard that you're one of the best students, so, could I borrow your notes for History? I've been meaning to ask you this for a while now because Mr. Lee talks about you every time he's in class and tbh, I couldn't care less about the minor subject. But still, I need to pass it in order to advance soo..
He was yapping so hard and you're ridiculing him inside your head but, the guy needs help and you're not some kind of witch with a stone heart. So you, being the kindest soul out there, decided to help him out.
You agreed to give him your notes and print-outs, but you didn't reply to him when he sent you a time and place for the meet-up.
Imagine his surprise when you arrived at the said café, on time and with a big, thick envelope in your hands, sitting in front of him without any trace of hesitance.
"Hi." you greeted him calmly, offering a handshake which he accepted with a smile, "Y/N here. Nice meeting you Hongjoong."
"Likewise. Thank you for entertaining my request." he replied, short but enthusiastic nonetheless.
Still, the awkward air is suffocating you and thank god the coffee and pastries can provide you some distraction because you truly cannot do this without going crazy.
Whatever confidence you had before was some kind of fallacy because you're a nervous wreck in front of this man. You're suddenly hit by the realization that this is the same guy that was rumored to have a crush on you and now you're sitting in this coffee shop with him, alone.
If someone from your university sees you two, that will surely cause a ruckus and your friends will probably bombard you with questions.
"Thank you for this, by the way." Hongjoong speaks up and it brings you back to reality, this time, you took a moment to take him in.
He really is fashionable, you'll give him that. His previously pink hair had turned into burgundy, he pairs his denims with leather better than anybody, and his color scheme for today is on point.
"You're most certainly welcome, I-"
"Listen, I know you know the rumors."
He cuts you off, rude. But he's getting straightforward now, nice.
Then you held a breath, is he actually confessing? If he did, how should you react? How should you answer?
You gulped, your palms getting sweaty and you couldn't help the tiny bit of excitement that coursed through your veins.
Your first ever confession after your dark, thunderous days of romance.
"Yes, I heard about it." you answered truthfully, giving him a small smile which he purposely avoided. This baffled you, shouldn't he be happy that you're giving him the time of your day?
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience but my friends are idiots. It's not you that I like." he admits, biting his lower lip and cautiously peers over your confused form.
You almost sputtered your coffee out, the sweetness of your iced hazelnut compensates well to the bitterness that was starting to spread out.
You faked a cough, sporting a feigned understanding countenance before asking for more elaboration, "If not me, then who is?"
He beams at you giddily and his answer almost made you want to leave.. almost.
"It's your friend, the cute one that you always help out during 21st Century Literature, Sakura." 
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taglist:
@hyuckilstan @gwenchwana @minkiflwr @yeosangsbiceps @charreddonuts @justyoonsworld @hwadump @marievllr-abg
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thelovelylolly · 11 months
Note
could you do Loki x princess!reader
they are having arranged marriage, You were expecting seeing someone. You simply look gorgeous on the dress that you’re wearing respectfully. You simply bow as you did look Loki. You two expected to talks going through walks. they may be chemistry together *fluffiness*
(hope you will write it down, thanks so much and have a good day)
Walk in The Gardens
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Summary: Odin arranged you to marry Loki, and you're ready to just get it over with. But what if there was something real between you two? Warnings: fem! reader, not proofread bc im tired, let me know if i missed any! Notes: this request is so cutesy i love it!
You didn't know what to expect when Odin chose you as his son's wife. You were taken to the palace by some royal guards where Frigga met you once you arrived. She was very welcoming and helped prepare you to meet your soon-to-be husband. She chose the perfect dress for you, helped you with your hair and asked you questions about yourself as she got you ready. It was nice, but you just wanted to get the whole marriage over with.
You heard of tales about arranged marriages how the husband and wife at most were friends, but some marriages weren't as simple as that. You didn't want to jump to any conclusions since you hadn't met the prince before, but you were hoping you two could get along enough to stand a marriage.
From what you had heard, Loki was a trickster and lived in his brother's shadow most of the time. He kept to himself, wandering the gardens or reading in the library instead of partying with Thor and his friends. You could respect Loki for that, you'd choose alone time over a party any day. Frigga talked highly about her son, making you feel a bit hopeful for this marriage.
----
Frigga led you to the throne room where Odin and Loki were waiting for you. You fiddled with the flowing sleeves of your dress as Frigga opened the door for you. You could feel Odin staring you down as he sat on his thrown, but beside him was Loki. You glanced at the prince and you could tell he was as nervous as you.
You reached the throne, bowing in front of Odin. "Thank you for choosing me, All-Father," you said, still a bit shaky even if you had rehearsed a thousand times in your head.
"Yes, well, my son needs to be wed," Odin replied, his tone uncaring.
He gestured for Loki to go to you. Loki did so and you bowed for him. When you straightened back up, he gently took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your knuckles, your face warming at the act.
"I-it's a pleasure to meet you, Loki," you said quietly.
"The pleasure is all mine," he replied, smiling at you. "Would you like to take a walk in the gardens? They're beautiful during the sunset."
"That sounds lovely."
You looped your arm around his and he led you to the gardens.
----
He was right, the gardens were beautiful as the sunset. You two kept a slow pace, enjoying the gorgeous flora around you and each other's presence. You two had asked each other the typical questions, about childhood, family, things like that. You found yourself quickly warming up to him and maybe even falling for him. It was hard not to.
You came to a stop when you saw a balcony looking over the land behind the palace. You quickly walked over and stood by the railing, admiring everything as the sun slipped behind the horizon. Loki walked up and stood next to you, and you could feel his eyes on you. You looked over to face him, a small smile pulling at your lips.
"Why are you looking at me?" You asked softly, tilting your head to the side.
Loki blushed and glanced away. "Um, no reason."
You giggled. "I'm surprised Odin had to arrange your marriage. I thought women and men were tripping over themselves to have the chance."
This time, Loki laughed. "I wish it was that way, but no. I don't really...interact with anyone outside of my family and Thor's friends. I prefer to spend my time in the library or out here."
"Well, if you'd let me, I would love to join you," you said.
"I would...enjoy that," he replied, looking back at you.
You felt yourself start to lean closer to him, and him do the same. Your eyes dipped to his lips then back to his eyes. Loki closed the gap between you two and pressed his lips to yours. You melted into the kiss and his touch when he wrapped his arms around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His kiss was softer than you expected, and sweeter, too. You didn't want it to end, but when you two pulled away, you could tell many more were to come.
You leaned your forehead against his, a smile on both of your faces.
"I think I'd choose you even with out this whole, uh, arrangement," you said, causing the two of you to breathlessly laugh.
"I'd choose you, too, darling."
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beenbaanbuun · 7 months
Note
Hey bunny! I'm back at it with my brainrot XD this time the trope is brother's best friend but the subject is still Kang Yeosang cuz I'm obsessed with him and the anti delulu meds didn't work 😮‍💨🫠🫠
I think this is the result of reading too many teacher/personal tutor yuyu fics + seeing posts about how our slow boy is actually hella smart, but can you imagine bratty MC and brother's best friend Yeosang (the brother in question being San or Yunho) who's known all over campus and your neighbourhood as being this sweet lil angel boy.... but who has been an absolute MENACE to you since you were kids?
Not in a harsh way cuz I don't think our boy is capable of that, but he's so indifferent and blunt? Barely pays you any mind at all and when he does it's this clipped, measured politeness?? Which is so unfair because he's beautiful and you've had a crush on him since forever???
Honestly it's more your fault than his that you're always so angry at him, but it makes you snappish and bratty just to try and push his buttons, but he never seems phased, always responds in a cool levelheaded way that's kinda hot and makes you even MORE pissed
So when you're failing math and your oh so wonderful brother decides to volunteer his only number literate friend as a tutor? And for some reason that friend says yes??
I can't finish these thoughts cuz I have a dinner to get to but yeah! Hope you have a good day bunny! Thank you so much for blessing us with all the incredible content that you do, make sure to get some rest and stay hydrated while you're at it <33
~Lyra
no bc i love this so much!!! just reader being bratty and then yeosang being all nonchalant about it AHDKSGDJSV ITS SO GOOD!!!!
but i feel like yeosang would be patient to a degree. like sure, he’s chill and cool about it usually but if you push his buttons too far he just snaps and you don’t expect it at all.
“can you focus?” he grumbles as he tried to find the relevant page in the text book. you’ve been watching the way his hands move over the pages for the best part of 5 minutes now, not taking in a single word he has to say. sure you’ve been listening, kind of, but that’s just so you can hear his deep voice in your ear - no other reason, “i’m not here for fun, y’know…”
you can’t help but scoff because of course not. why would he be here for fun? honestly, you have a hard time working out why he’s here at all, especially when he’s not getting paid for it.
“well, it’s not like you ever focus on what i have to say,” you spit back at him as you put your pen down defiantly. he doesn’t say anything or even acknowledge it, which only serves to drive your frustration up even higher. it’s not like you need a tutor anyway. sure, you’re failing, but you don’t see why that means yeosang had to be called in to help.
“maybe say something worth listening to,” he says, voice as calm as always, “now pick up your pen and work through these logarithmic functions for me.”
years ago you probably would’ve jumped at the thought of doing anything ‘for him’. what with his stupidly pretty face attached to that stupidly muscular body, and his irresistibly deep voice that only seems to come out with irritatingly quick quips. he was the only man to exist in your eyes, and perhaps he still would be if he weren’t so annoying. always so polite with you like you couldn’t see him being so free with other people. never responding to your jokes or rising to your teasing. it’s like he wants nothing to do with you, and you hate it.
in fact, you hate a lot of things, like the fact that you love a man who clearly wants nothing to do with you, or the fact that everything he does regarding you pisses you off. you hate that you can’t seem to shed your feelings of affection and lust towards him despite his apparent distaste of you.
but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s tutoring you, and for some reason he’s doing it for free.
you sigh and try your hardest to brush away your annoyance. if he’s going to be here, you may as well make him pay, right? maybe if you push his buttons enough he’ll decide he doesn’t want to come back.
“i don’t want to,” you push your pen further onto the page with a shit-eating grin, “so you’re going to have to make me.”
you watch him as he mumbles something under his breath, eyes rolling into his skull in annoyance, and you can’t deny that it feels good to finally get a rise out of him.
“i’ll tell yunho you’re not being cooperative,” he threatens. you shrug your shoulders.
“and what’s he going to do?” you reply, “find me a different tutor? i doubt it,” you smirk and lean in close, “you’re the only one willing to do this for free.”
at this, he closes his eyes and puts his own pen down. you almost cry out in victory when he rubs at his face in frustration, a small groan leaving his lips when he pulls them away again.
“believe me, sangie,” you say in the most sickly sweet tone you can muster, “nothing you can do is going to make me cooperate.”
he turns his head in one shaky motion, and he looks at you properly for the first time since entering your house. he’s pretty as always, but you can hardly take the time to study him when he’s looking at your like he’s a predator about to pounce. his eyes are icy cold as he runs them up and down your body. his jaw is clenched as his gaze finally settles on your face, and you have to admit that the quiet boy has suddenly got very intimidating. you shrink back into your seat.
“fine then,” he says through gritted teeth, “either you do this, or i’ll have to find some other way to teach you a lesson.” now it’s his turn to lean in close. his elbows find purchase on his knees as he lowers his face to yours. you can feel the way his breath brushes against your exposed collarbones, and you hope to anything out there that he doesn’t see the way it sends a shiver down your spine, “don’t think i don’t notice the way you look at me, little girl. i’ve seen you staring at my hands. i know you’ve been daydreaming about me, hm?”
in the blink of an eye, he traps you. with one hand on one of your chair’s arm rests, he spins it until you’re facing him fully. his own rolls forwards until his thigh’s sit either side of yours. you blink at him, all wide eyed and confused. he just smirks at you.
“i’ve seen what you’ve been doing all these years,” a hand drops to your thigh, rubbing gently up and down against the skin that your short skirt - that you’d worn for no reason… no reason at all - had left exposed, “teasing me, trying to get me to drop my act and finally do what we’ve both been craving for so long. i’ve always kept to my lane for the sake of yunho, but i don’t think i can anymore.”
you whimper when he moves his face in close to yours, lips barely brushing up against yours. he smiles, nipping at your bottom lip gently.
“not when you so clearly need to be taught a lesson…”
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ghuleh-recs · 7 months
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Cardinal Copia had his own Fic Rec Friday and now it’s Popia’s turn. I've compiled a healthy mix of x reader and x ghoul below. A little something for everyone! I may have gotten a little carried away— there's a lot to see here so make good use of your ao3 bookmarks!
Take my hand. Let’s read about the HBIC together. ♡
recs under the cut.
Papa x Reader
Don't Go - @ramblingoak - papa iv x gn!reader
While trying to convince Papa to cancel the tour you end up confessing how you feel about him.
Rough Day - @writingjourney - papa iv x f!reader
papa takes care of you after a rough day.
Your Star Wrapped in My Cloak - @sherwood-forests - papa iv x f!reader
You find Copia in the library, in hopes of apologizing.
VIII Strength - @anamelessfool - gn!reader
VIII STRENGTH Strength (Physical and Will), courage, persuasion, influence, compassion Copia is a pent up sort of man, he always has been. He enjoys being Papa but on his worst days the title has a near physical weight pressed across his shoulders. He comes home to you, and you can tell when it's been one of those days. Luckily, he has you to guide him.
Forbidden Fruit - @ink-and-dagger - papa iv x f!reader
It's a pleasant surprise to stumble upon the newly ordained Papa Emeritus IV browsing through the library stacks. Even more pleasant that he happens to be halfway up a rolling ladder, and wearing one of his sinfully tight suits. What better opportunity to give Copia's cakes the attention they deserve. Or No snakes needed to convince you to take a bite out of this apple.
Forever Yours - @sweatandwoe - papa iv x gn!reader
Ever since you had entered into a relationship with him, you had learned three strict rules about Copia. One, he did not like to be tickled in any situation. Two, he always had to have a drink after sex. Three, the make-up stayed on. The first two were easy to follow but the third though, was getting harder to try not to bend.
Worship - @copiasjuicebox - papa iv x transmasc!reader
Tumblr Request: trans!copia worshipping your body after your t shots have had time to work. he understands how to worship your body properly bc he’s been through the transition, he gets it.
on leather wings - @ghostchems - papa iv x f!reader
copia surprises you with a spooky weekend getaway, culminating in some winged bedroom time
Papa IV x Ghouls
tumblr ficlet - @st-danger - papa iv x dewdrop
"Papa," Dew murmurs, and Copia feels a tremor move through him; there's a particular voice Dewdrop uses when he wants something. Silky and dark and slow. A drawl. It's what he's using now, and he hasn't the ability to deny him anything. And if Dewdrop is about to angle for a little action, backstage and hurried with Copia in his papal robes- well. It'd be sinful, of course. And it would be wrong to not take advantage of that, right?
What's My Name? - @copiasjuicebox - papa iv x swiss
"Why don't you ask me how I'm doing?" in which, the audience doesn't refer to Papa as "Papa" and it strikes a chord.
And You Know That It Takes Two - @forlorn-crows - papa iv x dewdrop
“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?” When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.
tumblr ficlet - @littlemoon-beam - papa iv x dewdrop
He can't look away from his hands, the way the veins flex under his skin as he expertly plays. Copia hears his own shuddering breath, wishing he could feel them on his skin even if only for a moment. He'd worship every fingertip if given half the chance. What really gets him though, what makes his chest tight and his stomach twist, is when he finishes and smiles, head tilted and eyes bright. "Was that ok, Papa?"
Changing of the Seasons - @kissingghouls - papa iv x cirrus
Cirrus and Copia share an umbrella on a rainy day.
𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!
Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡
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deafsignifcantother · 6 months
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is that enough? (nsfw)
♥ summary: asa comes home from the most irritating kill he's had so far, and is less affectionate to his wife as a result. she is not impressed by this behavior at all, and tries to find a way to [stubbornly] cheer the both of them up [very stubbornly].
♥ relationship: asa emory x wife deaf reader
♥ word count: 4.3k
♥ warnings: reader is a brat, lots of murder talk, sex scene ends with a time jump and doesn't finish tbh bc i just wanted to form a story around the paragraph he says LOL.
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When I said I would l die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.
You continue to shift around in your bed, the room so dark except for one beam of moonlight. For the last hour, you've gone from staring at the ceiling to lying on your stomach against a pillow.
Asa was not back by now, which raised no such concern; you were just annoyed. He knew precisely what was expected and what time you wanted him home (giving a curfew to a killer? only you).
And alas, as you lay on your side and stare out of the window, you notice the reflection of your bedroom door opening. Asa's head peeks in. His eyes are dull; it's the only detail you can point out in the dark.
You instantly turn and hold your hand out for him to touch. He doesn't respond to you or acknowledge you at all, only stares. His eyes hold no compassion; he stares right through you. It takes a few seconds before he even moves. Your eyebrows furrow while you watch him shut the door before he climbs into bed beside you.
You wrap your arms around him and kiss his shoulder. Is he trying to unease you on purpose? Possibly, or else it's something that happened while he was out.
He's entirely still except for the slow breaths he takes. Noticeable only by the whites of his eyes, he's looking at the ceiling. If he continues acting like this, you'll run up, turn on the lights, and shove your hands in his face.
With the instincts of a devoted husband, he adds motion to the moment of stillness. He lifts one hand. The dark almost silences him. "What?"
You let out a small laugh through your nose. You curl up into him, placing a hand on his chest in case he wants to communicate more--explain himself.
Your throat rumbles as you hum, trying to make out Asa's facial structure, wondering if your voice can get him to smile. But he's unresponsive for more and more seconds until, finally, he moves again; he takes your wrist and uses your hand to sign the word tired on his bicep.
Tension is subtle; it worsens when he turns his back towards you. You gasp and immediately climb over him like the clingy wife you are. You push him onto his back and straddle him.
Your head rings with apologies that you know will come bursting through. If he pushes you off, you won't even argue. In this position, you realize the moon's light hits you, and he can see what you sign to him: "Stop lying to me."
His eyebrows furrow slightly in surprise, and he stubbornly remains still. You have grown quite bold with him. He looks up at you as you glare down at him with your head tilted slightly. The look on your face makes him want to smile, but he needs some entertainment; what can irritate you for the next few minutes?
Both of your hands rest on his chest, and you feel the rough texture of his shirt, one you swore you ironed this morning.
Stubbornly, you remain quiet.
He finally decides to say something, his signs abrupt and aggressive. "I killed someone tonight."
Did you get any blood on the bed when you laid down?
You scowl. "I thought you killed someone every night. Don't take it out on me."
He is visibly unimpressed by your reaction to his confession. You cross your arms, body shuttering, when you realize he had rested his hands on either side of your thighs with only the tips of his fingers touching you. As soon as your body reacted with goosebumps, he lifted his hands again to respond.
"Are you not even a little bit shocked? Are you concerned?"
"Obviously, I'm concerned; this seems to be affecting you." When you sign, your entire body jolts with each sharp movement. "But again, don't take it out on me."
Asa continues to gaze back at you, his expression still not budging an inch. He holds a blinkless stare before responding. Though his signs are not as harsh, his face shows slight annoyance. "You're not concerned about the person I killed. You're more concerned about how it affects me."
You soften a lot, submissively. Yes. You look out the window in deep thought, signing, not focusing on whatever your hands decide to convey. Asa is insanely intrigued by your demeanor. He's remained in the same position throughout your fidgeting, with his eyes following your every movement.
He continues, "This time is different. The way that woman acted was complete defiance," he pauses, "She annoyed me."
"A woman?" You cross your arms, going on the defense. Even though Asa just mentioned killing the girl, you are clearly unimpressed just by the fact that he was talking about her at all.
Though your sudden defensiveness didn't bother him, it was enough to at least raise his eyebrow slightly and pique his curiosity. Your jealousy is amusing and endearing. He knows you understand your role as a wife. You had no reason to be jealous, as he had wholly devoted himself to you, so your jealousy couldn't possibly stem from a genuine concern. Your attitude was enough to make him try and sit up a little more. "Yes. A woman."
You remain quiet, not knowing how to respond. You are grateful to have finally cracked Asa's stiffness. He's charming and always flusters you with his body language.
His hands hesitantly touch your sides, taking his time, one by one, each pad of his fingers making contact with the skin of your thigh. Your spine straightens. He caresses your legs and trails his hands across your skin. Your breath hitches, feeling how cold his hands are. "Was it relieving when you killed that woman?"
At first, Asa doesn't answer your question. Instead, he caresses you. He's relenting and giving you the mood you want from him. You relax more and more under his touch.
He removes one hand, "Relieving?"
He removes the other to form a comprehensible sentence. "Of course, I felt some form of relief. That's the whole point of what I do."
"'That's the whole point of what I do.'" You mock him before going earnest again. "You don't usually talk about it like that, Asa."
How long have you been fighting the urge to act with this much conviction and attitude? Perhaps this resulted from your jealousy; your emotions were most definitely amusing, though. You are a real handful, and you're starting to make it more evident than before.
"I'm just being honest," he replies.
One of his hands returns to your leg, his thumb running against your skin in an attempt to soothe you. "Why do you ask?"
A car driving by lights up the room. You can see his face and how soft his beautiful brown eyes have gotten. His eyes don't match his signing at all.
You smile. "I just like hearing about it. I'm happy you killed her, even if you don't want me to say so."
He lets out a small chuckle as you lean forward and press a small kiss to his temple. You have grown quite bold in your jealousy. He doesn't mind this sudden side of you; it certainly excited him. "You like it when I talk about my actions?"
"It's thrilling," you bluntly admit. "You torture people, but you're so loving to me. What an amazing feeling."
The look on his face puts butterflies in your stomach. With soft nudges, he sits up in bed, letting you move to sit across from him. The moonlight is ideally on his face; he squints his eyes.
You can't help but put your forehead before you kiss him.
Knowing his violent tendencies and brutal actions were enough to excite his wife was the best feeling in the world. You think about his vows and how he had sworn to protect you; he was so powerful, and it made your heart pound and gave your stomach butterflies when he declared that to you.
"Why does torture and death thrill you so much?" His eyes glow with amusement.
"Have we not had this conversation before?" you sign before placing your hands on the bed, kissing his cheek, and sitting on your knees beside him. "I adore you and everything you are."
"I see. My violent thoughts and murderous tendencies are appealing..." He leans up and kisses the side of your face. His hand trails towards your neck. A giggle leaves you, and you lean away slightly, signing the word desire, the movement of your hands slow and flirtatious. He touches the skin of your neck, tracing each ridge of your trachea. You lift your chin and let his fingers examine you.
When he touches your pulse, he smiles and pulls away.
You touch your fingers to your pulse to see if your heart is genuinely going that fast.
With more restraint, he places both hands on your head and pulls you into a kiss. He goes backward, his back landing against the bed while your chest lays flat on his. Your hands instantly go on either side of him to prop yourself up; with his strong grip on your hair, you cannot pull away. His hip bones poke the inside of your thighs; no matter how much you shift, you can't escape the feeling.
One of your hands instinctively flies to his neck, where you press the back of your hand to his throat, feeling the deep grumble of his grunts. He snatches the hand and places it back on the bed. One of his hands goes under your shirt, dragging his fingertips across your skin, just missing the sensitive parts of you. Your skin lights up his heart and tightens his chest. It has always been clear that his love and lust for you would always be unconditional; he can't help but wonder how long he would be able to maintain his composure, knowing you longed for violence the same way he did.
His hands went past your ribcage and towards your hips; a line of goosebumps crossed your skin, and your back arched a bit from the feeling, almost ticklish.
His lips form a smile before trailing down the sides of your neck. He kisses, traveling across your skin to your collarbones, and stops there for only a few seconds. His breath is hot on your skin, and you can almost feel his lustful desires in the way his hands roam your body. Your mouth releases a small squeal, and you hold onto the back of his head, tilting your head away from him to give him more access. You were giving him more access to your neck so easily. 
Though he did give in eventually, he lightly kissed and nicked your neck, making you shiver slightly. When he finally gripped onto your hips, you wrapped your legs around his waist, giving no sign of resistance to him. The way your body feels against his is irresistible, and it takes every ounce of his will strength not to suddenly start gripping your thighs and hold you firmly down.
You didn't even know what you were begging for, but your legs tightened around him.
His breath is hot against your skin, and he groans, sending vibrations against you. With one hand propping himself up, he uses his other one to grab your fingers and place small kisses onto them. He could feel his body responding to the mere sound of your tiny squeals. His hands slip under your body and caress your thighs. The word soon is noticeable against you. Kisses and licks trail down your neck, your hands resting on his shoulders, sliding up to the back of his neck lovingly, a sensual touch, a shiver running down his skin. The way you touch him adds to your cute charm; he kisses you, hands wrap around your body, and touches are rougher and more possessive than before.
You grab his hand and put it between your legs; you bite onto his bottom lip, both confident and uneasy. He grunts, lips stinging from your teeth. You are making this a very tempting experience.
You grasp at his shirt and try to pill it up, signaling to him that you want him to take it off. His hand is teasingly stiff between your legs. He has it right where you put it, but he offers no further indulging.
Your voice cracks pathetically, "Baby."
He enjoys every second of this. He starts being gentle, resting his hand on your underwear and palming you in slight movements.
Beyond his composure, his breathing is heavy.
You pant desperately at the contact from his fingers; the sound is loud and primal, and your back arches.
Your hands move sporadically. "Tell me about how you kill them."
He doesn't remove the hand from your underwear when he responds. "I'm not telling you that, sweet girl."
"Please."
A million words are running through your mind. You must fight every itch to close your eyes; you don't want to miss anything Asa might say. His mind is focused on how plush your pussy lips feel underneath your underwear. He starts rubbing his knuckles against you, the sharp joints sending particular sparks.
"Eventually." One of his knuckles bluntly runs over your clit, and you jump from the contact.
"Please." When you sign, your mouth moans, practically shaking his body. Your toes curl as you try your best to maintain your composure, but your thighs start to spread wider. The way your hands start working at his belt makes him smile broadly. He watches you move with pure amusement.
You open his belt and take it out with a single pull, fingers shaky while you quickly attempt to undo his pants.
Asa is taken aback by your sudden movements, his smile only growing sadistically. He's impressed and so in love with you. He helps you unzip his pants, taking it all out in one motion. The way your hands shake is a sight that gets him even more riled up. You move and scoot up on the bed, angling yourself so your upper back can comfortably lean on the headboard.
Just you being this entranced by him makes him want you even more. His touch is getting more aggressive, passionate, and possessive, just as you craved it. The sound of you panting drives him crazy, the shuffling of you taking off your underwear for him.
"Come on, Asa," you desperately motion him close. "Show me that you love me."
He larks onto you. Your toes work at the band of his pants. The way you stare at him while he pushes his fingers into you is an incredible sight. He can't hold back when, in powerful eye contact, you stare at him while the most salacious sound leaves your hips. His body shakes with excitement, and his face looks lusty. Your mouth goes agape, and in embarrassment, you cover your mouth with your hand. He's being considerate by even continuing to finger you and not take you right this very second.
You reach down in a desperate attempt to pull his pants down. Your fingers are weak, and you always get so consumed by pleasure that you can't even think straight. Your husband has learned the best ways to touch you. It drives you crazy.
He removes his hand and signs, lowering his head to inch closer to you. "Is this how you plan on showing your submission and obedience to me? By squirming, growling, and whining like a dog?"
You stare at him with such lust and pleading in your eyes. Time slows as he takes in your expression, your submissiveness.
He jumps to the present when your legs wrap around his waist. You pull him down so fast that he has to press his hand on the headboard to hold himself up.
"Tell me," you come across as commanding now. "Tell me how you kill them."
You caught him entirely off guard. The suddenness of it all makes it even more alluring to him. How you look deep into his eyes pushes him to desire to fulfill your every wish.
"...I'm not telling you." He signs back, his face stern.
"Why?" You growl and tighten your legs around him. Your bodies rub against each other in a stimulating friction. You put an attempt to stop your trembling like you're not on the verge of begging him to fuck you.
"Because I'm in charge here, not you."
"No. Tell me."
Your hand goes down his body and grabs onto his dick, stimulating him and trying to coax him. Your body heats up at your own actions.
You're adamant about having your way. "Tell me," you repeat with one hand. "Tell me, I want to know."
If you continue this way, it'll make him want to pin you down and take you in the most aggressive way imaginable. He stares deep at your eyes and stares deep at your lips.
You smile, not giving up, your hand gripping him tighter, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Tell me about how you kill them," you hope that continuing to ask will make him relent out of annoyance. You decided that if he told you that, you'd guide him inside of you as a reward.
"I will not tell you a thing." He can't stand your insistence anymore.
"Why?" You stop stimulating him, and you remove your legs from his waist, falling onto the bed. He notices that your knees are still spread by his side, giving him room to take whatever he wants. It's both aggravating and frustrating. The fact that you're trying to play this dominance game doesn't sit well with him. He's been too lenient on you.
"...Because there's no need for you to know the details about how I do my killings. All you need to know is the results. Now, shut up and stop pestering me."
"But," you bite your lips with a groan. Your cheeks get warm, and you decide between apologizing and pleading. "It'll turn me on."
Your signs force him to lock eyes. Your expression of shame and embarrassment is very compelling. He smiles and eggs you on. Maybe he will give you what you want. "How?"
"You're handsome. Your hands are big and aggressive; I want to know what they can do." You sign with both hands in a restrained way. "I want you to fuck me as you tell me."
The words make him grin with desire and arrogance. 
"Beg me to continue. Beg me to tell you about the killings while you spread yourself open for me." 
"Please, sweetheart." You writhe at the sight of his demanding eyes. "Please tell me, please touch me, and tell me how violent you are and how much you terrorize people."
Your eyes are soft and pleading as you continue, "And pleasure me as you do so, I need you, and I want you to control me."
Your begging is something that never fails to drive him completely crazy.
His next sign is simple, his hands become very busy lifting your pelvis. "Fine."
The muscles of your thigh tense as you prepare yourself for him to finally fill you. You love how stern he's acting. You continue begging in hopes that he won't change his mind. "Make me cum, tell me how dangerous you are. I want to see the blood on your hands and hear about what you do to people."
He keeps his eyes on your hands. He verbally repeats your last sentence to himself under his breath. Astonishing, you are. He lets you press yourself closer to him to align him with you. Your hand flails the same sign; tell me.
It's amusing. Asa pauses, no longer continuing, just staring at you. How your two eyes meet feels like a mix of passion and danger. He smiles and hums to himself, moving his hands down to grip your ass. You try to reach down to press him into you, but he moves your hands away, shaking his head teasingly. He's hard and just over your dripping hole; his tip is making contact with your folds and how warm they feel. The wet sound that your labia has, his breath hitching, his hands squeezing onto you, makes him want to take you even more aggressively. He tilts his head, leaning back a bit. He smiles and lifts his hands back up. "...What kind of details do you want to know?"
"I want to know how it feels to torture someone. What do you do?" Your hands move a bit slower, hesitant. "What do you think about?"
He pushes only a bit of himself inside of you. Your upper body relaxes, the light in the room exposing everything about you.
It's poetic.
You bend your pelvis to push him inside a little further. His eyes darken. It's charming, and it reminds you how much you love him. You're surprised he hasn't killed you already.
He puts pressure on your body to keep you still, to keep you from squirming away from him. He forces himself to go completely inside of you. You gasp, grasping his shoulders. He can see and hear your arousal and your voice. The way your body is now tightening around him in a way that doesn't allow him to move in or out is something that makes him enjoy the position he'll have you in. The way your muscles clench onto him brings him to the point of almost losing control.
You once again rewind the conversation. At the mere memory of how this started, you start getting annoyed again about how stubborn Asa is. Your walls pulsate around him in desire, but you don't give in to it just yet, even though your heart is pounding and your head is spinning. You lean back. "Tell me about how you kill them."
"Very violent and gruesome, just how you like it. Do you want me to continue?"
"Continue." Your thighs lessen their grip while you grind your hips against him pathetically, trying to urge him to move once you realize he's not. You growl, desperate, childish.
He stares down at where your bodies connect before making direct eye contact.
"Okay, and what about their screaming and pleading? It makes you so wet." He signs while distracted by how turned on you're getting per each of his lazy strokes. He penetrates you a bit faster and then proceeds to go back to moving slowly. It's as if he can feel your wetness dripping down your body now, soaking his hairs. Your mouth keeps releasing pathetic moans. You hadn't thought about an answer to that question before and didn't have the mind to make any sense of it.
"I need to hear about how dangerous you are as you treat me like I'm an angel," you admit as you place your hands on his shoulders and dig your nails into him.
He begins to pick up the pace more and more, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep you in place while he signs quickly to you. "I'm the most dangerous man you know. I'm the devil. I'm a savage and a monster. I've tortured women to death, ripped their families to shreds, and killed children, all just for my enjoyment. I've destroyed homes, lives, and relationships. I've left a trail of destruction through this city, which I've left bloody and scared. Is that enough?"
"Yes," your hands drop, and your signs are hardly comprehensible. Your body reacts to Asa as if he's been fucking you for hours. "Yes, baby, oh my god." His sentences linger in your head, and you bask in them, repeating them in your mind.
You put one of your fingers between your lips and bite onto the knuckles. The look in your eyes is of satisfaction and intense pleasure. He's finally given you what you want, and you're almost about to cum because of it.
The sight of your lustful eyes and the sound of your moans sends ripples of power through him. He is the one who ultimately controls you, the one you worship.
You squeal when he puts a hand under your knee, stretching your leg closer to you. You can hardly look at him with how dazed his cock makes you, but you're begging for him to tell you he's a killer once again.
You can feel how wet the both of you are, and you bite your lip at the disgusting feeling.
And towards the end of the night, the part of sex where he grips your face with his nails digging into your cheekbones, he keeps fucking his cum into you, not stopping until you've finished as well. Your dry lips let out moans and indecipherable sounds. Your thighs are around him, and your walls are pulsating; your eyes remain shut, and his body trembles at the sound.
He loves it when you sleep by his side, your hand on his chest as you nuzzle into his shoulder. He'll keep his arm around you even after you wake up. There's something beautiful about how you find such comfort in his warmth, as sometimes he considered it a fault. The warmth of his body was a constant reminder that he was human, the same species as all in his collection.
He watches the hands on the clock as they tick. At first, he intended to hope up regardless of whether you were comfortable, as his museum needed tending. But today, he gives you mercy, letting you sleep for a few more minutes. I'll give them five minutes, which became ten and then twenty. The grumpiness overtook him (as if it wasn't his own decision that caused this). He just couldn't find it in himself to wake you up.
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yesloulou · 1 year
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Do u have any tips/tutorial how to make gifs so smooth if there's movement? Mine are always choppy and weird :(
Hi anon, ty for sending this ask. I'm sooo honored!! (and plz don't call your gifs choppy or weird i have a feeling they're very lovely 😌)
✨ Gif Tutorial: making movements in ur gifs as smooth as possible✨ (updated)
↳ aka: speed management in gif making
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Remember to always source your content responsibly!! Process in this tutorial is simply what works best for me. Every creator has their own preferences and imo there is no right or wrong. We should always make content in the way we enjoy 🤍 Outline: 1. Remove duplicate frames 2. Repair missing frames 3. Speed management in Photoshop 4. Smoother slomo using Video Frame Interpolation
1. Remove duplicate frames
Obviously, if there're duplicate frames in a video, our gifs will end up with lil lags here and there (since some frames get more screen time than others). Although the dup frames are likely barely observable once compiled into gifs, imo this is what makes the difference between smooth and butter smooth. the two daniel gifs above (guy with big brown eyes, if ur not from our fandom 🤍) can hopefully showcase this difference**.
**technical explanation for this that you can totally skip: the persistence of human vision is approx. 0.1s, ie everything we see stay on our retina for this amount of time. since gifs refresh faster than this (eg. 0.04s on every frame for a 25 fps gif), we usually can't pinpoint exactly which frame is a duplicate just by looking at a gif. however. by definition, a duplicate frame will slow down a gif, by making it pause longer than it should. as a result, a movement during this lil chunk of time will move less pixels than your brain would've expected. and this is where we perceive the not-so-smoothness.
ok, now that we've established that we don't like duplicate frames -- I know it's common practice to handle this by looking for an optimal output frame rate to offset the dupes. to me this feels chancy. bc it's a process where you don't have control over exactly which frames to keep or discard. Personally, I prefer making sure my videos are dupe free before everything else. (Again, this is just what works for me. Everybody has their own process and imo there is no right or wrong :)
To remove duplicate frames, the first thing I do with a clip is to play the first few seconds frame by frame to see which one of the following scenarios it falls into:
a. no duplicate frames ↳ best case scenario! congrats!! plz proceed directly to step 2 b. there is a duplicated frame once in a while ↳ This happens most often with (but not limited to) videos from social medias ↳ Reason behind this is frame rate conversion. For instance, instagram/tiktok has a default frame rate of 30 fps. However, many media sources (eg. no brakes, sharl's vlogs) produce at 25 fps. When these videos are uploaded, instagram/tiktok convert them from 25 to 30 fps by duplicating 1 frame every 5 frames, hence twitchiness in gifs when slowed down. ↳ Solution: in photoshop, go through the clip frame by frame, delete dupes manually (recommended) ↳ Alternative solution: use duplicate frames remover softwares (see next bullet point) c. almost every frame has duplicates ↳ This will almost always** be the case with screen record. ↳ What not to do: When there are many duplicates, we may be tempted to use photoshop's 'import 1 out of every n frames' function. this is not ideal bc, the dupes are rarely uniformly distributed. you could end up losing frames you don't want to lose (resulting in choppy gifs) or end up with dup frames still in the mix (resulting in laggy gifs) or, most likely: both. ↳ A better way: is to import all frames into photoshop, adjust the output frame rate to offset the dupes (here is a good tutorial on this) Pros: efficiency; yields decent results in most cases. Cons: again, in my experience this is a process where you don't have precise control over the frames. Therefore runs the same (albeit smaller) risks as the method above. It can also limit how much you can slow down a gif, and generally doesn't work well if the target frame rate (of the clip you're trying to gif) exceeds your computer's recording rate**. **More on this statement: when target rate is comfortably lower than recording rate (~ 55 fps for many), chances are most to all frames will be captured. It is therefore more tolerating towards skipping a unique frame from time to time. However, when target rate (i.e. anything 60 fps) nears or exceeds recording rate, you will be dealing with dup frames as well as missing ones. Using the method above can therefore subject you to the possibility of losing two unique frames in a row, making the gifs noticeably choppy. ↳ Solution: we always have the option to trim dupes by hand in photoshop. But in this case, it can be time consuming, even with keyboard shortcuts. as a result, here is where we can really use a: ↳ Dup remover software: google search 'dup frame remover software' will give you several options and tutorials (here a plug-in for after effects). i've heard good things about some of these but unfortunately can't give recommendations (they do cost money sooo i wrote my own)
Demonstration:
This is a frame-by-frame animation of an ad Charles did for apm. It was produced at 25 fps & uploaded to socmed where the default is 30 fps. You can see that: i. With screen recording, every frame has an unpredictable amount of duplicates. ii. Original clip from instagram has 1 dup frame every 5 frames. iii. After deduplication, the movement becomes lag free and continuous.
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2. Repair missing frames
At this point, our video clip is (hopefully) free of duplicate frames, which makes our gifs lag-free (yayy!!). At the same time, we don't want choppiness in our gifs either. Choppiness in a gif is usually caused by missing key (unique) frames. To check if there is any, replay the clip, look out for the sudden jumps/fast forwards in movements. Three possible scenarios:
a. no missing frames ↳ best case scenario! congrats!! plz proceed directly to step 3 b. a lot of missing frames ↳ This is usually the case if the target frame rate (of the clip you want to gif) exceeds the screen recording frame rate. ↳ Solution, imo: (surprise!) is to leave things be. Reason is that something like this would be quite tedious to fix, but not that noticeable if made into a gif that's fast enough ↳ Alternative solution: Record at 120 fps c. occasional missing frames If a video clip misses frames, but not a lot, chances are it's only gonna happen very occasionally, i.e. 1 or 2 occurrences in total. A frame-miss in this case is usually due to either the screen recording skipping a frame by mistake, or that the original video misses frames/contains bad frames to begin with. ↳ Solution (for screen recordings): record again, find missing frame (chances are it will be captured on a second try), insert frame back into original timeline in PS ↳ Solution (if video misses frames or contains bad frames to begin with): Let's talk about ✨ VFI ✨. VFI (Video Frame Interpolation) is the process of synthesizing in-between images from a given set of images. It can increase videos' frame rates (i.e. 30 fps to 60 fps), achieve smoother slomos, and by definition, also help with missing/bad frames. There are many software products that let you use VFI by simply dragging videos into the app and clicking 'export'. Afterwards, all we need to do is to find the missing frame generated by the app & insert it back into the original timeline in PS (ahh technology). For more info on VFI, see "4. Smoother slomo". ↳ Note that VFI processed footages will likely differ slightly from the originals in terms of colors & lightings. This may be tuned out using clipping masks (allow a group of adjustment layers to only apply to one frame/layer, keyboard shortcut: Command+Opt+G)
3. Speed Management in Photoshop (✨ updated ✨)
At this point, our clip is without dupe or missing frames (or at least as close as can be). Whether you dodged the first 2 steps like a breeze or freshly emerged victorious from photoshop covered in blood to get here, good news is, things will be very straightforward for this point on. congrats!!!
🎉🎊🎉
As mentioned before, in terms of smoothness, our clip is now in ideal shape. The important thing is to keep it this way throughout the rest of the process. My workflow looks something like this:
Open file, crop, resize, sharpen, color, export gif, reopen gif in photoshop (which won't compromise quality), assign frame delay, export finalized gif
If you're used to finding a comfortable frame delay or speed/duration combo at the beginning, this process might feel unnatural. But it's so so so so important to leave the speed related settings alone until right before exporting. Here's why:
By not converting frames with modified delays into timelines with fps, we avoid having to give our finished product a frame rate (which photoshop timelines have to specify). This is crucial bc, there is no such a thing as frame rates in gifs. According to the syntax of GIF89a (the current '.gif' format, screenshot below), gifs control their speeds through (and only through) how much time to wait in between frames, aka delay time. Our process above does exactly that. It compiles frames directly into gifs, and avoids expressing frame delays (a gif concept) through frame rates (a photoshop concept), a conversion where dupe frames and missing frames come from**. In other words, using frame delays to control speed is simply more natural to a gif's syntax. **Why would this conversion cause dupe frames? ↳ On paper, frame delays should translate into frame rates seamlessly (i.e. 1 second ÷ 0.06s per frame = 16.67 fps). In reality, photoshop does not support direct translations like this. When converting frame animations into timelines, PS defaults outputs to 30 fps, regardless of frame delays. This disagreement between frame rates is where dupe frames come from. ↳ Some examples: i. Consider a frame animation where frame delay = 0.04s (25 fps), to convert it into a timeline defaulted at 30 fps, 5 out of every 25 frames will be 'duplicated' by photoshop (30-25=5) ii. Now, consider a frame delay = 0.06s (16.67 fps roughly 17 fps), to convert it into a timeline defaulted at 30 fps, 13 out of every 17 frames will be 'duplicated' by photoshop (30-17=13) ↳ (the 'duplicated' was in quotes bc photoshop achieves this thru assigning a frame roughly twice it's original screen time instead of actually adding another) ↳ (afaik, currently there's no way of changing the default 30 fps as long as u start with frame animations. If anyone does know how please let me know 😳) **Why would this conversion cause missing frames? ↳ This happens when one tries to reverse the harm done by photoshop in prev step by changing the 30 fps frame rate back to what it's supposed to be (using function 'Set Timeline Frame Rate') ↳ Let's use the last example again. As mentioned, to go from 16.67 fps to 30 fps, 13 out of every 17 frames will receive roughly twice its original screen time (0.033s * 2 ≈ 0.07s). On the other hand, 4 out of every 17 frames' screen time will remain the same (0.03s). to go from 30 fps back to 16.67 fps, photoshop resamples frames from its 30 fps timeline in 0.06s intervals. As a result, any frame with screen time less than 0.06s runs the risk of 'slipping through the cracks', namely ones whose screen time remained 0.03s ↳ (gifs require frame delays to be rounded to the nearest hundredth of a second) ** What if I open the file as video object, instead of importing as frames? ↳ Indeed, when opening as video object (i.e. command+o instead of command+i), photoshop inherits its frame rate as is. We would then have the option to manipulate it's speed by right-click ➡️ adjusting the percentage (of how much to speed up or slow down). ↳ Here, if we slow down a gif without changing its frame rate, we risk introducing duplicate frames into the result (since frame rate is now higher than needed). If we slow down a gif and lowered the frame rate, but the math didn't check out, we also risk losing unique frames (frame rate not high enough). The same (opposite) goes for speeding things up. Therefore the best and easiest approach is, again, leaving speed related settings alone until right before exporting.
(the block of GIF89a syntax responsible for graphic control:)
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Ok in hindsight this probably isn't exactly like. the most straightforward thing ever but the execution part is very much so 😳 here goes:
1. Open file in PS via Command + O note the (25 fps) on bottom left
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without changing speed, duration, or frame rate: 2. Trim ✂️ 3. Crop 4. Resize 5. Sharpen 6. Color
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(Updated!!!) 6. Export gif, and then reopen it in Photoshop **Compare to the original method (timeline into smart object, smart object back into frames), the updated method has the following benefits: i. Avoid lowering gif quality by converting into smart objects ii. Reopening gif into frames and reassign frame delay saves time (bc less steps) and won't hurt the quality at all (bc no image processing required)
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7. Assign Frame Delay (i usually go with original frame delay + 0.01s) 8. Export ✨
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Tada!! Speed = managed!!
This ad actually came out last December where I was aware of like, maybe 5% of what's in this post. Here is what my original gif looks like. I'd say what we have rn is a big improvement :)
Now, imo there are situations where it simply makes more sense to start with frame animations (imported using command + i). For instance: when we need to remove duplicate frames by hand, when there is a missing frame/bad frame that needs to be repaired, etc. My workflow would then look like this:
1. Command + i 2. (do things to frames) 3. Set frame delay to 0.03s 4. Convert to video timeline 5. (the rest will look exactly like the workflow above)
This works bc when frame delay is set to 0.03s, photoshop will treat your video timeline as a "natural" 30 fps timeline and leave your frames alone. Therefore maintains its uniform speed.
4. Smoother Slomo using Video Frame Interpolation
As mentioned above, VFI (Video Frame Interpolation) is the process of synthesizing in-between images from a given set of images. It can increase videos' frame rates (i.e. 30 fps to 60 fps), hence smoother slomos. There are many software products that let you use interpolation by simply dragging videos into the app and clicking 'export'. I've had very good experiences with Topaz and After Effects.
Let's talk about After Effects first. If you have Photoshop, chances are you have AE as well. To use AE's Keyframe Interpolation:
i. Import ii. Set speed to half iii. Click square twice until you see lil arrow iv. Export
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Topaz is a production grade video enhancing software. It's capable of enhancing frame rates (i.e. 30 fps to 60 fps), increasing resolutions (i.e. 540p to 4K/2160p) and more. Unlike AE who uses only the two neighboring key frames to generate an in-between frame, Topaz takes the whole sequence into account, hence better reliability. It's also more user friendly than AE imo.
Here is a before-and-after interpolation using Topaz.
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That's all 🎉🎉🎉
To sum up: remove dupe frames (if any), repair missing frames (if any), use and only use frame delay to control speed, and software enhance frame rate if needed.
This post got way longer and more technical than I had planned and I honestly have no idea where all this stuff came from lol. But it was really fun and I hope you'll find it helpful. Feel free to message me if you have any questions. Have fun moving-picture making!!
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sometimesraven · 3 months
Text
how Empire of Death failed to mimic the scale of Infinity War, and what I would do differently
I'm just ranting here bc I had the thoughts and realised they were gonna go on too long for the tags of a reblog.
So I've already mentioned that the sand of death should have been the cliffhanger. The Sutekh reveal was cool and metal af, but imagine if it had gone on juuust a little longer and the credit theme rolls in just as Kate turns to dust. Imagine how much harder that would hit!
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We would sit with that final image for a whole week, letting the shock and excitement build, even if we know they'd never kill both Kate and Rose and this would all be reset, the shock of the scene would still be impactful because we have time for it to truly sink in and hit us fully.
But I think the real reason Infinity War's ending hit harder than this is because we had real stakes. Thanos had been an imposing presence through the whole movie, killing or overpowering beloved and powerful characters we'd grown to see as untouchable.
Those stakes started at the literal beginning of the episode. Loki, a beloved character, is killed. The Hulk, who had literally JUST gone toe to toe with a god, is thrown aside like a toy.
The stakes remained through the story, when Gamorrah is killed, then continue all the way to the end when Vision is sacrificed only for that sacrifice to mean nothing.
Then the snap happens, some of the most beloved characters die in a slow, carefully crafted series of scenes with phenomenal acting.
And then the movie ends. We're left to sit with that for however long it takes for the finale, and even if we know most of the characters will be back it hurts because that emotion and tension and buildup comes to that horrible conclusion and leaves us to sit with it.
I'm not saying Sutekh should have killed anyone to raise the stakes. I'm saying that there was absolutely zero build-up to him within TLoRS itself, and therefore we as viewers don't truly know the stakes. The "He Who Waits" stuff was good to show us "hey, all these other gods are peanuts compared to this one", but that's about all we got.
And it's frustrating because not only has Doctor Who done this kind of high-stakes villain reveal and cliffhanger before in a much more effective way, but also IT WAS RUSSEL WHO DID IT RIGHT THE FIRST TIME.
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I firmly believe the finale should have been in three parts, not two.
I don't know if this is strictly Russel's fault or if Disney's restrictions were partly to blame, but let's look at how the Series 3 (2007) finale did what the Season 1 (2024) finale tried and failed to do.
Part One
Utopia plays out much like The Legend of Ruby Sunday does: they're exploring something self-contained but eventually related to the plot (end of the universe vs ruby's mother), they meet an enigmatic stranger who will later turn out to be the villain/part of the villain (Yana vs Triad), and the episode ends with the cliffhanger of them realising there's actually a Big Bad from the past that nobody was expecting (The Master vs Sutekh).
I think in the case of a 3 part episode I would have TLoRS end with Sutekh being revealed in a way that doesn't have him at his full power yet. I'm not sure exactly how I'd execute that but it would have the same impact w. Harbinger and Susan, only without Sutekh's full manifestation at the end; maybe he appears on the screens or in that smoky form around the TARDIS. Hell, maybe he would fully manifest but just be unable to dust the universe yet. I'd maybe even have him kill Kate and Unit there but not the world, to establish how powerful this guy is. I'd maybe have Ruby be with Mel instead of the Doctor, so that she's away from this initial death wave.
Part Two
The Sound of Drums then spends time establishing who the Master is for new viewers, and the kind of relationship he has with the Doctor. The stakes slowly build, any potential help is removed, and the Doctor's final plan is foiled, leaving him captured and powerless as the Master initiates the apocalypse.
Perhaps if instead of being with Susan, the Doctor tries to take back control of the TARDIS and ends up trapped with Sutekh controlling her?
Maybe they figure out how since Wild Blue Yonder, the TARDIS has specifically been taking them to places that would empower Sutekh with more death and chaos, rather than just where the Doctor needs to be -- the Maestro, Finetime, even Boom... all that death and chaos empowering Sutekh to finally take his god-form due to the invocation of superstition making his myth reality.
Maybe at this point it would show that the deaths in Unit were just the beginning -- that through those deaths Sutekh was able to reach back to the entire family line of each member he killed: Donna + family, even Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart had been killed before his time. This would establish in the Doctor some guilt that actually makes sense -- he didn't have to turn to Unit for help with Susan and Ruby's mother, but he did, and he didn't notice something was wrong with the TARDIS even though he'd been aware of her odd behaviour of late. He unwittingly brought Sutekh to UNIT and caused their deaths, sending that final ripple of chaos and death that allows Sutekh to take his final form. And now that he's gained enough power, he can coerce the TARDIS in giving her memory to him; of everywhere she's ever landed, past present and future.
The Doctor is forced to watch from the posessed TARDIS as first the Earth, then the Universe, is slowly destroyed, believing everything to be dead, including Ruby and Mel.
Part Three
In Last of the Time Lords, we focus on the Doctor's companions gathering hope and saving the world while the Doctor is helpless.
Unbeknownst to the Doctor, Ruby and Mel have made it back to UNIT. Maybe one of them remember how vivid the TARDIS seemed in the memory room and, in a last-ditch attempt to escape, try to enter it -- discovering the Memory TARDIS within.
This is why I have Ruby and Mel still reach the Memory TARDIS. Much like the companions do on their own in the Tales of the TARDIS clips I've seen, they realise this is a TARDIS made of memories and wonder if they can use that somehow. Ruby realises, as it begins to snow and the screens inside the ship turn on, that her strange memory power is keeping the TARDIS functional, and it shows them through the screens how to fly it.
Mel suggests this all seems to connect back to Ruby somehow, and the memory TARDIS responds positively. They start to go back through Ruby's memories in summary, trying to figure out what they're missing, and realise as her memories flick through on the screen -- one of them is unfamiliar. The Roger Ap Gwilliam realisation happens as normal, they go to find the medical record of Ruby's mum, Mel is fighting posession and decides to take HERSELF out of the room to "keep watch", knowing she won't be able to fight off Sutekh for long. Just as Ruby is about to find the name, she glances back at a noise behind her -- only to see Mel approaching her.
She just barely manages to grab the still-processing screen and escape, but now she's all alone and the screen has nothing to connect to. She never got her mother's name, but the records are still on there waiting to be processed. She realises Sutekh needs the records that are here, and that if Mel reaches her and gets the memory screen from her, she might get her mother's name and give it to him. She realises her only choice is to destroy the only records of her mother she has and accept she may never find her birth mother.
We have a tender moment of her with her face buried in her knees, crying amid the dust, she's all alone and she doesn't understand anything and she was so close but everything is ruined, it's like she's cursed -- she remembers her friends questioning her bad luck, wonders if maybe it was her all along and never the goblins. She wonders if the Doctor is alive, mourns that she can't turn to him, curses him for never finding out who her mum was sooner so they could avoid all of this, begs him to come back so he can tell her what to do because she has no idea who she is without someone to guide her.
Then remembers Carla. Maybe a flashback to something Carla said to her when she was younger; some motivational line about how she's not alone, she never has been; she's got a family even if it's not the one she expected. It doesn't matter where she comes from. It doesn't matter who her birth parents are. She has a real family to save, and that includes The Doctor. She pushes to her feet, still holding the screen, and returns to the memory TARDIS alone.
Meanwhile, the Doctor is being taunted by Sutekh. His only home; his safe place has been turned into a trap of torment and even as he tries desperately to gain some kind of control over her, Sutekh recites the losses and deaths the Doctor has caused. While he shows on the TARDIS screens all the places the sands of death have touched so far, he brings up Gallifrey, and the Flux, how Sutekh prides himself on being a god of Death but honestly he could never dream up something as destructive as the Doctor.
Just as the Doctor is about to give up, he sees Ruby, defiantly approaching Sutekh in the remains of UNIT's headquarters. His eyes gleam as he looks up to the bright red glow of his posessed ship's console, relief painted all over his face.
"I'm nothing like you," he says, even as he watches Ruby intensely; as worried as he is excited, "You exist to bring death and destruction and decay to this universe, but that's not me. Death and loss have followed me a long, long way but if there's one thing I have that you don't, it's hope."
Outside, Ruby is shouting and brandishing the memory screen. "Oi! You great big god of nothing! Is this what you want?"
She smashes it. Tough, she says. Sutekh roars and tears stream down her face. She's visibly terrified, but she stands tall.
"I was so confused," she tells him, "I kept thinking: why me? What's this got to do with me? But I think-.. I-I think I know why you're so interested in my mum. I think I know why I'm still alive."
She delivers a speech about what she's seen and learned from the Doctor: what survives of us is love. She realises that Sutekh is so interested in her mum because the one thing she feels deep in her gut is that her birth mother loves her, and the one thing he can't understand is love surviving despite grief. Ruby loves her mother despite never knowing her, Ruby loves her adopted family, Ruby loves the Doctor, and love is survival and love is life.
It starts to snow as she remembers everything she possibly can; every little gesture from people she loved and lost, every story she made up about her mum, every time Carla has been there for her, every time her friends have ditched parties to come stay with her overnight because she's staying in a hotel somewhere and she's scared to be alone. Sutekh roars and is clearly weakening but it's not quite enough, and the Doctor finally manages to break free of the TARDIS as Sutekh's hold on her weakens. He reaches for Ruby, cradles her in his arms as she runs to him, kisses her on the head and tells her how brave she is and how proud he is, then pulls her to the TARDIS console.
The ship immediately takes off, trying to shake off Sutekh while Sutekh tries to shake Ruby and the Doctor out of her. They're careening through the vortex, TARDIS doors stuck wide open, and the Doctor quickly slips a Mavity glove onto Ruby's hand, yanks off a panel of the TARDIS, and presses her hand to the psychic membrane underneath. He tells her to hold on for dear life and remember everything. The TARDIS amplifies her memories, feeds that love and life straight into Sutekh, and the Doctor gives one last speech about how humanity survives over and over despite their mortality, how human love is life, how Ruby is life. As Sutekh begins to break apart, we see people start to return from the dust.
As the story comes to a close, the Doctor apologises to Ruby. He suggests that maybe they could go forward and find that DNA result again, but Ruby declines. She says it's not fair to use something that was taken from her mum against her will as a tool to find her. She accepts that she might never find out who her birth mum is, but that's okay -- because she's realised her real family have been with her all along. The abandonment will never leave her, but after losing the whole world the only thing she wants right now is to see Carla again.
They part ways with Ruby cautioning the Doctor that maybe he should go find Susan some day. She must be feeling pretty abandoned too. And the episode ends basically the same way, only with Ruby making peace not knowing who her mum is -- meaning the mystery is left open for now in a more satisfying way.
I dunno. This got away from me a lil. I just think there's so many places this story could have been taken and it missed the mark in so many ways.
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