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lucky-clover-gazette · 4 months

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captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

chapter 13 & final notes

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

It was true; it was somehow not even a surprise, more like a truth that had grown for some time on the edge of his awareness, now brought into sharp relief.

some damen brain insight! he’s not stupid or oblivious. he just ends up distracted, often, due to the more pressing things in front of him and/or subconscious avoidance.

‘You can’t go to Delfeur,’ Damen said. ‘It’s a death trap.’

YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY damen doesn’t want laurent dead!!!! 🎉

‘Is your reputation so far in the dirt that you think the Council will choose your uncle for the throne anyway, unless you prove yourself?’ ‘You are right on the edge of what I will allow from you,’ said Laurent.

but he does allow SOMETHING, which is new

‘Take me with you to Delfeur,’ said Damen. ‘No.’ ‘Akielos is my country. Do you think I want her overrun by your uncle’s troops? I will do anything in my power to prevent war. Take me with you. You will need someone you can trust.’ Speaking those last words, he almost winced, immediately regretting them. Laurent had asked him for trust last night, and he had thrown the words back in his face. He would receive the same treatment. Laurent just gave him a blankly curious look. ‘Why would I need that?’

context: laurent is delusional about his capability to overcome near-insurmountable odds alone. this frustrates and concerns damen, and he isn’t able to let it go, even though he hates laurent. his values and honor come first. laurent is both confused and mildly amused by damen’s concern, because he doesn’t expect anyone—especially not damen—to actually care about his well-being.

Damen stared at him, suddenly aware that if he asked, ‘Do you think you can juggle attempts on your life, military command, and your uncle’s tricks and traps by yourself?’ the answer was going to be: Yes.

i love laurent. i love that his stubborn determination is very much a virtue, but also something that occasionally makes him act like a total idiot. and damen sees this, and understands this, for better and/or for worse.

‘He asked me to bed you, then report back to him.’ Damen was forthright. ‘Not in those words.’ ‘And your answer?’ That, unreasonably, annoyed him. ‘If I’d bedded you, you’d know it.’ There was a dangerous, narrow-eyed pause. Eventually: ‘Yes. Your style of grabbing your partner and kicking their legs open does stand out in the memory.’

the fact that laurent allowed this kind of banter to happen at all is kind of a big deal. he was definitely close to smacking damen about it, but went for a half-hearted insult instead. for laurent, that’s basically a white flag. and it’s even more meaningful, since the exchange was related to sex, which has proven to be a vulnerable topic.

‘My dear brute,’ said Laurent, ‘I want you to rot here.’

context: laurent is exhausted, stressed, and delusional about his immediate future. damen wants him to survive (for now), to see things realistically, and feel the urgency of his circumstances. i don’t think laurent cares if damen rots—he just wants him to stop saying true and helpful things.

also, this is just kind of a hot thing to say. something about the conflicting affection and contempt. i don’t know.

‘Are you that sure of yourself?’ Damen called after him. ‘I think if you could beat your uncle on your own, you would have done it already.’ Laurent stopped in the doorway. Damen saw the cupped yellow of his head, the straight line of his back and shoulders. But Laurent didn’t turn back to face him; the hesitation only lasted for a moment before he continued out the door.

he’s right! laurent knows he’s right! he’s just too proud and delusional to admit it!

probably because to laurent, admitting weakness only results in vulnerability and pain. he wouldn’t believe that anyone would actually want to offer him help without an ulterior motive. so his guard stays up, and he does what he needs to do alone.

Laurent was leaving tomorrow. Laurent, infuriating, intolerable Laurent, was pursuing the worst possible course, and there was nothing Damen could do to stop him.

“i hope she fries / i’m free if that bitch dies / i’d better help her out” (buffy the vampire slayer, once more with feeling)

It was easier to blame the death of a boy on mischance than that of a young man about to ascend to the throne. Damen could see no reason why boy-Laurent should have escaped that fate. Perhaps familial loyalty had held the Regent back . . . until Laurent had blossomed into poisonous maturity, sly-natured and unfit to rule.

context: the regent kept laurent alive as a child and teenager so he could [redacted] >:(

Laurent could inspire homicidal tendencies simply by breathing. Kastor, he thought, had no idea what lay across the border. Kastor had embraced an alliance with Vere. He was vulnerable, ill-equipped to fight a war, the bonds within his own country showing cracks to which a foreign power had only to apply pressure.

the dramatic irony here is insaaaaaaaane. damen your cognitive dissonance is showing

Did Laurent really believe he could do this alone? Laurent would need every weapon at his disposal in order to navigate this course alive. Yet Damen had not been able to persuade him of that. He was aware, not for the first time, of a fundamental inability to communicate with Laurent. It was not only that he was navigating a foreign language. It was as though Laurent was an entirely other species of animal.

romance is two strong-willed and competent people communicating despite the odds, becoming stronger and more competent together than they would be apart. also doing improv comedy to survive the horrors

He touched the starburst pattern at his shoulder. He was dressed in Laurent’s colours, and bearing his insignia. That was a strange feeling.

kinda hot. like the collar and cuffs, but they actually earned it.

submission vs. respect theme, etc.

He was to serve and obey, as any man.

but NOT, notably, as a slave.

‘Sleeping in his tent?’ ‘Where else?’ He passed a hand over his face. Laurent had agreed to this?

i love how damen’s follow-up question isn’t necessarily, “do i agree with this?” but “how the fuck did LAURENT agree to this?”

After a long moment, Damen said, ‘Whatever else you think, I don’t share his bed.’ It was not a new insinuation. Damen wasn’t sure why it rankled so much now.

probably because there is something resembling mutual respect developing between damen and laurent, so the implication that their interactions are entirely sexual is offensive. submission vs. respect again!

‘If I’d sent them after you,’ said Laurent, ‘I would have told them you went out the only way you knew, through the courtyard off the northern training arena. Did you?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen.

hot.

The pre-dawn light bleached Laurent’s hair from gold to something paler and finer; the bones of his face appeared as delicate as the calamus of a feather. He was relaxed against the doorway of the stables as though he’d been there quite a while, which would explain the colour of Jord’s face.

laurent lean #9. smug eavesdropping.

And he did not need gilt to be recognised under a parade standard, only the uncovered bright of his hair.

i’m counting this as damen likes blondes mention #6. implies that laurent is “parade standard” simply because of his pretty hair.

Laurent paced forward. His eyes passed over Damen in turn, displaying jagged distaste. Seeing him in armour seemed to have drawn something unpleasant from the depths. ‘Too civilised?’ ‘Hardly,’ said Laurent.

context: “i cannot fucking believe i’m dressing up my brother’s barbaric killer like a veretian and letting him join my traveling party”

‘What is he doing here?’ ‘Captaining the Guard.’ ‘What?’ ‘Yes, it’s an interesting arrangement, isn’t it?’ said Laurent.

oh, he’s SEETHING. humor as deflection.

‘You should throw him a pet to keep him off the men,’ said Jord. ‘No,’ said Laurent, after a moment. He said it thoughtfully.

context: mainly i think laurent knows that govart’s unsatisfied libido is likely to make him screw up. but also i’d like to believe that he’s just super over the pet stuff

Laurent took it without saying anything. He tucked it carefully into a fold of his riding clothes. Then after a moment, he reached out, and touched Nicaise’s chin with one knuckle. ‘You look better without all the paint,’ said Laurent.

oh he cares about this kid so much, and clearly values his gift. this is the most affectionate we’ve seen laurent in the entire book.

‘Do you think a compliment will impress me?’ said Nicaise. ‘It won’t. I get them all the time.’ ‘I know you do,’ said Laurent.

“so did i.”

‘I’m coming back,’ said Laurent. ‘Is that what you think?’

context: this is meant as a comfort to nicaise, but nicaise hears it as a threat.

neither of them believes that they would ever deserve or receive protection.

‘I’m coming back,’ said Laurent. ‘To keep me as a pet?’ said Nicaise. ‘You’d love that. To make me your servant.’ Dawn passed over the courtyard. Colours changed. A sparrow landed on one of the stable posts close by him, but lifted off again at the sound of one of the men dropping an armful of tack. ‘I would never ask you to do anything you found distasteful,’ said Laurent.

context: this is the truth.

It didn’t surprise Damen that Laurent was popular with the townspeople. He looked the part, all bright hair and astonishing profile. A golden prince was easy to love if you did not have to watch him picking wings off flies. Straight-backed and effortless in the saddle, he had an exquisite seat, when he was not killing his horse.

NICE VS. GOOD THEME! damen thinks that if the townspeople saw laurent as he does—a bitch—they would realize that he isn’t good. because he still believes, most of the time, that niceness equates to goodness. and so every pleasant quality laurent possesses—his appearance, his title, and his skills—is in opposition with his unpleasant behavior. laurent’s unpleasant actions and qualities are, simply, Not Good. and damen is too distracted by laurent’s more tasteful qualities to consider how his distasteful decisions could be more ethical than they appear (for example, mercy killing the horse his uncle poisoned).

inversely, we have damen and akielion slavery. damen knows the gentle submission of slaves in ios, and the way their masters “honor” them—in that, he sees goodness. but when he sees the cruel way veretians treat akielion slaves, he sees wrongness, which he then advocates against. but what he can’t see, is that “palatable slavery” (gag) is still slavery, and just as wrong in akielos as it is in vere. and it is just as evil of akielos to partake in the institution, if not more evil since it’s their institution in the first place, than whatever is going on in vere.

damen has moral integrity. he has a mind and he uses it. but he also has a massive blind spot, because he believes that everyone else in the world is as honorable as he is.

laurent has the opposite blind spot. he doesn’t expect anyone to be honorable, ever. least of all his brother’s killer.

the two of them make a good team.

final notes

damen likes blondes mentions: 6

laurent leans: 9

(nice)

character elements to watch out for:

laurent perspective context (knowing what i know, what sense can i make?)

laurent & nicaise

laurent coping mechanisms (pretending, delusion)

damen coping mechanisms (avoidance, distraction)

damen reconsidering the ethics of akielios

mutual moral arbitration

series themes:

niceness vs. goodness

submission vs. respect - “there is no honour in obedience”

suffering alone vs. fighting together

pain and humor

honor and integrity

sex, power, innocence, violence

trauma, desire, consent

#YAYYYY!#done book 1 #this was super fun #capri #sam reads capri #captive prince #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #lamen #please feel free to share your thoughts!!

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nozunhinged · 3 months

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my love sea rollercoaster

Okay so I was at the forefront of the love sea haters (don't ask me about mame I don't know anything about that discoure you can read why I didn't like it here if you want) but as weak as I am I kept watching and ep 2 still didn't do it for me but ep 3 turned the boat around so fast that I feel absolutely sea sick (literally!!) right now -- and because the discourse and perspectives on tumblr made me try to keep watching unbiased, I'd like to share my five cents as to why the story suddenly works for me after I've spent the first two eps rolling my eyes so hard I got a migraine.

I think it comes down to three major moments, with their conflict as the turning point

When rak started spitting the most degrading speech going at mut for dragging him out of the house, literally blowing so fucking low the blowjob mut was wishing for in the end was sky high terrain, I went "ok that's it, I'm turning this off" -- rak said word for word "no means no" but mut still kept pulling him I was close to angry tears what a fucked up situation that is, I thought.

But just as mut made rak snap out of it with his unimpressed reaction, so did I.

It was like the first half of the episode flashed right in front of me within the second rak was speechless. He was so on edge from the many calls he had in the first part and before that the diving incident -- he was streched out so thin that of course he would fall back to his default mode which is insulting anyone who dares to get within a 10ft radius of him. And then a guy who even dares to break down his pretentious walls? Better double down! (I'm still mad about raks tirade though, I would've dumped him in the sea right then and there)

But here's the thing, mut isn't fazed at all. Like, at all at all. And that's exactly what rak needs in this moment. Someone to vent his anger at so he can collect himself. We know now that mut had it a million times worse than this and his reaction isn't just because he has the hots for rak, it's literally his character. They both would react the exact same way if it was any other person. The difference? They develop an emotional bond over it and that's how they move forward. CHEFS KISS!

You might think but noz, of course its his character, thats the whole point? Yeah but not to me.

In the last two episodes, it felt like everything that happened between them was excruciatingly forced by the narrative (see my yaoi-post why I despise that) -- that everything between them is only brought out because they met. I know that thai bl (no, lets say the romance genre in general) has a big issue writing and introducing characters in a manner that makes their romance believable, but most of the time I can overlook that because we're not here for deep literary masterpieces, we're here for the smooches and the fumbles. I get it.

But when it feels so forced like it did the last two eps to me, even I just check out. So I already shelved that series in my mind and it's the first time I get so damn humbled that I have to write down a million paragraphs to defend myself lol. I think my longing for watching a believable lovestory reached so deep that it contributed to my current brainrot.

Don't get me wrong -- I attest this shift 100% to fortpeats insanely stellar acting. They make the characters believable and they make me understand why rakmut are prefect for each other although I HATE their dynamic. But that's the beauty of a good story my friends, I get now why their pulling and pushing works for them and I'll gladly watch them do that! Because until now, no aspect of the show managed to do that, neither the narrative progression, nor the editing, writing or pacing. Nothing. It was all just a jumbled, annoying mess.

So what's different now? The story lets fortpeat finally shine! (Accidentally maybe?)

Someone already said that the scenes are stale and slow (cant find the post anymore sorry) due to the fact that nothing is happening other than the two of them talking in the same position behind a different background and I 100000% agree. And the only way this poor choice is saved by is fortpeat. I was hanging on their lips for every single word. Their dynamic was suddenly so clear and palpable to me, I struggled to breathe properly. Rakmut are fucking made for each other and I'm losing my shit over it.

I can't believe they managed to make ALL the flaws of this show just POOF -- go away??? And it just keeps going like that. I could write 10 more pages about the little details of their dialogues that cemented my impression but I'll try wrap this up first.

The two other pivotal moments (to me) were muts reaction to rak telling him about his name. Yes, you read that right. Now that I finally understood how these two are ticking, I absolutely 100% understand where mut was going with this objectively BONKERS suggestion. Rak drops this bombshell of a trauma on him and he offers to do exactly that too??? Well, in muts head this is the only way to make rak understand that the outcome can be different. So of course, this idea would only work on him. Made for each other, I'm telling you. Two pieces of a fucked up puzzle.

Now, that scene.

First, doubling down on how much worse mut had it. (I'm not talking about his house thats a topic for another post) I think this one little story was enough to land the punch, the talk last ep was too long and clunky. I wouldve loved to have a scene where the guy who was fired tells the story to someone and rak overhears it, not understanding a thing and then putting the pieces together when mut starts talking I-- oh I think i wouldnt have survived that, I cried then and there already.

Well yeah I was in tears when they started fucking that was awkward but again raks reaction just made sense. They don't know each other that well and rak only knows one way how to make mut feel good which is riding him to the moon and back. And as a little cherry on top he completely let loose without any restraints.

There's already this amazing post by @hanhonymous which explains perfectly why the pillow talk after works so well as it does, so I'm not gonna say anything more. Just know that I was full on bawling at this point. When rak said "try it" it lost it. How he encourages his island boy who said "someone like me" a million times in the last ten minutes was perfect. Beautiful. Absolutely wonderful. Even his false lead felt perfect for this moment because only this way mut would understand that rak is absolutely serious.

I don't know how the bangkok arc will play out, my hopes are not very high but I will forever have this lovely little episode. And their lovely little pillow talk. And when they confess and love each other for real I will once again cry like a loser because fortpeat are amazing. Please someone get them a high quality production they deserve it so much.

#love sea the series #love sea #fortpeat #rakmut #mutrak

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racingliners · 2 months

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@hypersoft-fest: Week 1 - Regency

Lando/Oscar, 1.6k, Regency/Bridgerton AU, No warnings apply

________

Hypersoft Publications is thrilled to reveal an excerpt from B. McLaren's upcoming Regency era romance novel

INCONVENIENCE

Chapter 1

Oscar Jack Piastri. Lando spotted him on the other side of the ballroom, his hands neatly clasped into the small of his back, the second he walked through the wide floral arch. Piastri was wearing an orange silk waistcoat underneath his jacket, which looked ridiculous. No one wore orange to the first ball of the season. He should have worn light blue, like Alex and George – who had been waiting for Lando to arrive for the past twenty minutes.

“I did not mean to be late.” Lando sighed as he approached his exasperated looking friends while adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket. George especially looked more displeased than usual at Lando’s tardiness as he snapped his pocket watch closed with a firm click and a loud sigh. “The carriage was not ready in time.”

Alex scoffed and made a point to roll his eyes. “Of course.”

It had nothing to do with the fact that Lando had spent most of the afternoon pacing – contemplating whether or not he should be showing his face at the first ball of the new social season, when he and his father had barely been able to keep a hold of their family’s reputation after getting involved in Lord Brown’s Welsh cotton mills that turned out to be non-existent.

Piastri had warned Lando that it was a scam, and in not wanting to listen to or care what a debutante might think Lando ignored him, and even went on to canvas on Lord Brown’s behalf whenever he was at the social club. Only for Lord Brown to leave for the Americas with money from half of the Ton’s families right before the Vowles Ball. If Piastri’s Guardian, Lord Webber, hadn’t been able to arrange an audience with Queen Suzanne to smooth out the whole affair then the Norris family would have been completely ostracised from society with the snap of her white gloved fingers.

It meant, in Lando’s mind, that he was indebted to Webber and by extension Piastri. And he hated it.

Lando wasn’t sure if it was his subconscious that meant he was constantly looking for Piastri in his peripheral vision, or if he was lurking there all by himself. It was starting to drive Lando mad that between the floral displays, gleaming silks, sparkling gemstones, flickering candles and embroidered lace that Piastri, Oscar, was constantly the first thing he noticed. It wasn’t the perfect sweep of his brown hair that was the final straw to break Lando’s resolve, but the scrunch of Oscar’s nose when he laughed at one of Viscount Hamilton’s jokes.

“I’m going to speak to him.” Lando said with a firm sigh, his eyes firmly locked on the other side of the ballroom. Alex had left a minute or so ago in search of more punch.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” George, the ever careful heir to the Russell estate, glanced between his not so careful friend and the also unmarried young man. Everyone was surprised when Piastri didn’t make a match last season despite much interest from many amiable suitors, and already people were starting to ask why.

Lando ignored George entirely, and crossed the ballroom the moment the current dance ended. He used the movement of people to the refreshment tables or their preferred spots on the side of the dance floor to disguise his crossing the room. And as luck would have it, Piastri had finished his conversation with Viscount Hamilton and was heading rather briskly in the direction of the sweet table. Truth be told, Lando had been far too nervous to look forward to the miniature tarts and pastries the cooks of Button Manor were famous for.

Piastri only made a passing glance at the table before quietly vacating the ballroom. For better or worse, Lando followed him into the vast hallway that was decorated with paintings in gilded frames on both sides.

“Mister Piastri.” Lando was annoyed that his voice had a quiver of urgency to it. He probably had a few beads of sweat on his brow to make him seem even more pathetic.

Oscar slowly turned around, the expression on his face completely unreadable as he moved away from the portrait in front of him.

“Mister Norris,” He adjusted his footing so he could properly look at Lando face to face. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.” Just a small twitch of his left eyebrow indicated his surprise. Nothing more.

“Well,” Lando paused to adjust his peach satin cravat and clear his throat. “I wished to speak with you.”

Piastri’s brow furrowed. “You came to the ball specifically to speak to me?” His accent came out slightly thicker, as if the turn of events had cracked his normally icy cold composure.

“No,” Lando huffed and had to restrain himself from throwing his head back in frustration. “It is because you happen to be here that I wish to converse with you.”

Piastri went to open his mouth, but Lando silenced him by marching forward and taking him by the shoulder to lead him in the direction of the library. In all the years of Lord Button hosting the first ball of the season, Lando had grown to be very familiar with the layout of the manor.

“In private.” Lando hissed, and quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure that they weren’t going to be followed.

“But-” The air briefly got caught in Oscar’s throat as his brown eyes widened with every step he and Lando took. “We are unchaperoned.” He spoke quietly, as if the mere mention of the word would be enough to somehow attract attention from the now distant ballroom.

“That is precisely why I want us to talk in private.” Lando rolled his eyes as they reached the library door. He just about managed to push it open with one hand and ushered Oscar inside, and gently closed the door behind them.

The walls of the library were lined with filled bookcases, two sky blue settees with navy velvet cushions sat back to back in the middle of the room, and two plush armchairs framed the marble fireplace at the far end. Thankfully for Lando the fire hadn’t been lit and the candelabras didn’t seem to have been burning for long, so he didn’t have to worry about one of the Button household staff coming in to tend to them.

“So,” Piastri briefly cast his eye over the bookcase nearest to him before turning his attention back to Lando. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

Lando’s shoulders fell as he sighed. Another reason why he wanted to speak with Oscar in a quiet room instead of the crowded ballroom was that he didn’t want any of the nosy gossipers hearing him be completely open. That was something he only saved for his family, plus Alex and George.

“I know that my family is indebted to you and Lord Webber after last season… I want to know what we can do to repay you.” The Norris’ were by their own admission one of the more wealthier families of the Ton, they would be able to afford whatever Webber and Piastri asked.

Oscar’s eyebrows jumped up his face at the offer and he seemed for a moment to be almost breathless.

“There’s… there’s nothing you or your family need to do,” He blinked and shook his head. “If I felt you were genuinely malicious in your intentions I would have told Mark to leave you be. I was merely…” He paused, blinking rapidly, “…trying to keep you out of harms way, after Lord Brown made the same offer to me.”

It felt oddly reassuring that Oscar was as noble as the small smile currently on his face was kind.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to the ballroom before my absence is noted.” Piastri bowed his head, and quickly turned to leave.

“No, Oscar wait.” Before Lando’s brain knew what his body was doing, his arm was outstretched and Oscar’s left hand was being gripped tightly in Lando’s right. They both looked at each other wide-eyed, completely frozen into place.

And then the library door opened.

They would have just about gotten away with it if it had just been Lord Webber and Lando’s father. Lando would have been able to pull some kind of excuse or reasoning out of thin air and neither man would have said anything more about it. Viscount Button’s presence changed everything completely.

“What is the meaning of this?” His steel blue eyes glanced first between the two young men, and then the two other Lords. Oscar’s hand was still firmly clasped in Lando’s. If anything, his grip on Lando had tightened. “Why are they both alone, unchaperoned, in my library?” Viscount Button’s voice boomed. His household had been free of scandal for many years, and he very much intended to keep it that way.

Lando’s father and Lord Webber continued to stay silent. Because really, there was only one outcome from all of this that would both appease their bewildered host and would be believable to the rest of the Ton, assuming they were lucky enough to have the rest of the evening to come up with a convincing enough story. Lando’s eyes darted around the library as his planned life of being an eternal bachelor crumbled to dust in front of his eyes.

“We,” Oscar gulped. His brain clearly working the fastest of everyone in the room as he moved to properly hold Lando’s hand, and even managed to fix a believable looking smile onto his face. “We are engaged.”

#my writing #hypersoftfest.creations #no I didn't expect to be writing landoscar but here we are #since you can just write snippets for the fest I just wanted to use it as a writing exercise to try out different things #so 1. I hope it works and 2. I hope people like it!#also I have no idea how book excerpts are formatted so apologies if this doesn't look right #f1 fics #f1 fanfic

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gabrielsbubblegumbitch · 2 months

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So I'm sure you've noticed I've been stalking ur blog lol

When I saw this post it actually kinda resonated with me.

https://www.tumblr.com/gabrielsbubblegumbitch/747324251353300992/i-saw-so-many-alastor-ruined-vox-takes-but-how?source=share

I'm Asexual aromatic but Flirting, touching, and other things that can be taken as romantic are purely natural to me. For me it's never serious just another way for me to show interest and have fun with friends. This has actually lead to issues with a few friends in the past. Unknowingly my blind ass would have people genuinely romantically and sexually interested in me and I wouldn't know. It honestly does feel confusing, and in the strangest way violating when you find out. (Can't think of a better word than violating but I don't think that quite gets the feeling across.)

With the way you phrased it actually made me more understanding of how Alastor can just push Vox away, and resonated with me lol.

Put in the same situation I would likely do the same. I'm not just going to change how I talk or act around this person because they have feelings for me, but I can't ignore/forget that they do.

Unlike Alastor though I am a people pleaser so I did try to enter into those relationships and I safely say it would've ended up so much worse for both Vox and Alastor.

Acting flirtatious/romantic is so very different than actually being interested.

At first you follow the classical steps of romance, dates, flowers, I love yous, you do that with friends too, but physically touch suddenly becomes more uncomfortable. Which could explain why Alastor has a "I touch you, you don't touch me" policy, unless your Nifty/Rosie of course!

Everything that person who 'loves' you does however begins to feel annoying, suffocating.

Alastor feeling claustrophobic, uncomfortable, and confused suddenly because this person who was a good friend suddenly wants to get together would instantly push him away. FORCE Alastor either looks at his own actions or views Vox as some perverse person. Therefore any ideas he might have like new technology come from a perverted place.

Obviously I'm not saying that Vox being interested in Alastor from a romantic angle is automatically perverse or wrong but with how much he values his autonomy it definitely feels weird for someone to WANT to be tied down.

I have a lot of thoughts but it is late so I'm just rambling and have way too many thoughts! I do hope you could more or less make sense of this mess! Thank you!

I'm sorry it took me ages to reply but unfortunately I'm mentally ill and for the las few weeks, putting together a coherent response was too demanding :c But I don't like leaving asks unanswered.

I could make sense of this rambling! Actually it's more or less what I had in mind while writing the original post. I'm autistic so I often miss the fact that people are attracted to me + sometimes things have different meanings for me than for most of people (e.g. lately I said something that made someone think that I want to be romantically involved with them, they rejected me, things got extremely weird and I did my best to explain to them my true feelings but I'm still anxious that they might think that I lied to save face) and I'm aromantic. So I get what you mean with that unreasonable feeling of being violated. It is completely unjustified and I hate feeling that way because I recognize it as utterly unfair toward the other person, who is not hurting me in any way but I can't help it.

So, I can imagine that Alastor - who hasn't been though years of therapy and may not be the most self aware and emotionally open person - could feel very bad with Vox's feelings. Especially when Vox is not above manipulation and gaslightning, and probably doesn't take rejection well so thing could get nasty pretty quickly.

#hazbin hotel #vox #alastor #headcanon #ask

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thotsforvillainrights · 9 months

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Merry Christmas! What did you get??

By any chance could I request Shigaraki having a teenage sister who’s mustards ex and he’s trying to win her heart back but Shigaraki is blocking him off

(If it’s uncomfortable to write about that I totally understand and here’s a FREE CARD! 💌 choose anything your feeling and who you feel needs more love)

(Happy holidays and I really hope your doing well and having an absolute amazing time on break)

(Thank you for the option! If I may, I'd love to just touch base on having Shigaraki as a brother in general. In fact, I'm not sure if I've ever even gotten a chance to do that before and I'm not checking the masterlist to see lmao)

~Shigaraki as a Brother~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-For a split second, let's just overlook everything from his actual past and churn something up here. We'll look at the core of having him as a brother and whether or not you would survive...

-The answer is no.

-Tomura was a sweet young boy but got sooooo much meaner the older you became. Now you're his little sister/brother/sibling so don't get him wrong here. Of course he still cares about you. He's just as asshole sometimes.

-The type of sibling to say 'no' and actually mean it when you ask him to go get something for you. This was the worst when you were stuck on the toilet with no toilet paper in sight. He lifted his headphone and heard you calling for help before replying 'no' and getting back to his game. He's the type of sibling to which you've been chased around the house with a knife before. No he wasn't going to kill you, but he scared the piss out of you for sure. The type of sibling to laugh when you get so mad you're nearly crying. This only makes the situation worse but he doesn't seem to care. He's the type of sibling to go in your room and do annoying shit just to get on your nerves.

-That means coming in and leaving the door open, taking your stuffed animal or pillow and throwing it up until it hits the ceiling, turning on the light and not turning it back off, etc.

-All this being said, he's also loving in his own weird way. The older you got, the easier it was to see that he cared about you. The way he'd sit around and roast you all day long but then kill the person that thought they could do the same...He was not playing about you. He acted like he never wanted to do a nigh time walk with you when you'd decided you wanted to to go to the nearest convenience store. At the same time he was complaining, he was putting on his shoes and hoodie because there was no way in hell he was going to let you go by yourself and get attacked by someone. He never really had much money, but would give you his pocket change if it meant you could buy what you wanted. He had rare moments when he's come check on you if you were home sick and whatnot. He was your brother at the end of the day.

-Now the two of you are much older and can actually spend some time together without killing each other. He might invite you to play games with him as long as you don't hinder the team from losing. He might hang out with you and watch your shitty taste in movies as long as you don't put on a damn romance of any kind (barf). He'd definitely always be there for you regardless of the situation. This is something you can expect from your brother Tomura.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #headcanons

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ash-and-books · 4 months

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Rating: 3/5

Book Blurb:

The New York Times bestselling author Katherine Center's next laugh out loud, feel good rom-com about writing your own story.

She’s rewriting his love story. But can she rewrite her own?

Emma Wheeler desperately longs to be a screenwriter. She’s spent her life studying, obsessing over, and writing romantic comedies—good ones! That win contests! But she’s also been the sole caretaker for her kind-hearted dad, who needs full-time care. Now, when she gets a chance to re-write a script for famous screenwriter Charlie Yates—The Charlie Yates! Her personal writing god!—it’s a break too big to pass up.

Emma’s younger sister steps in for caretaking duties, and Emma moves to L.A. for six weeks for the writing gig of a lifetime. But what is it they say? Don’t meet your heroes? Charlie Yates doesn’t want to write with anyone—much less “a failed, nobody screenwriter.” Worse, the romantic comedy he’s written is so terrible it might actually bring on the apocalypse. Plus! He doesn’t even care about the script—it’s just a means to get a different one green-lit. Oh, and he thinks love is an emotional Ponzi scheme.

But Emma’s not going down without a fight. She will stand up for herself, and for rom-coms, and for love itself. She will convince him that love stories matter—even if she has to kiss him senseless to do it. But . . . what if that kiss is accidentally amazing? What if real life turns out to be so much . . . more real than fiction? What if the love story they’re writing breaks all Emma’s rules—and comes true?

Review:

A rom com lover who dreams about making it as a screenwriter gets the opportunity of a lifetime, working with her favorite famous screenwriter on his new rom com movie script... except he's not as charming or wonderful as she had hoped, and he refuses to work with a "nobody"... can she really write this rom com? Emma Wheeler loves rom coms, she's longed to make it as a screenwriter and is good enough to have won contests and even be offered an internship... but she's had to give it up in order to look after her father who was injured in an accident that killed her mother too....an accident she feels responsible for. Emma then gets a call from her manager with the job opportunity of a lifetime, to re-write a script for the famous screenwriter Charlie Yates, the same Charlie Yates that Emma has been obsessed with since forever. This is her dream job and she immediately gets on a plane to go... leaving her younger sister to step in for caretaking duties while Emma moves to L.A. for six weeks. Yet when she mets Charlie she is absolutely shocked to discover he is nothing like she imagined, he in fact is an egotistical, rude, and plain mean guy who refuses to work with a "failed, nobody screenwriter" despite the fact that his script is so terrible it could destroy his career, oh and the fact that he doesn't even want to write a rom com, he just wants a passable script to send off... and the fact that he doesn't believe in love. Emma is determined to change his mind about rom coms and love, despite the fact that he belittles her, treats her like dirt, and is so combative about everything, Emma wants to change his mind. Yet the more time she spends with him the more she begins to fall for him... yet can the same be said for him? Or is this all just to get the script he needs to get funding for his next movie project? This started off with potential... however I just couldn't ever get around to actually liking either character or enjoying their romance at all. I'm going to be honest, I just disliked Charlie overall, he really didn't endear me, he didn't come off as a great love interest after everything, and honestly he just got on my nerves. I really wish I did like this but the character's love story just didn't fit well enough for me and if I'm being honest i got a bit annoyed with both characters throughout the story. Both Emma and Charlie are going through a lot of their own issues but Charlie constantly taking it out on Emma and Emma just being his punching bag just didn't feel that great. It's an okay romance but it's definitely not one of my favorite ones from Katherine Center. I've loved Katherine's other books and will absolutely be reading her future works, this one just missed the mark a. bit for me. If you like opposites attract then give this one a go, maybe you'll have a better time with it than I did.

Release Date: June 11,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and St. Martin's Press for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#book review #bookish #book #the rom-commers

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phantomoftheorpheum · 4 months

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a couple of things about 2x05 of summer school, i felt kind of disconnected from the girls for the most part.

first of all, like you pointed out, it seems like the writers wanted as to feel sad about noa and jen? absolutely not. i don’t like shawn’s mom but i understand where she’s coming from. i would’ve said way worse things to noa honestly - as we know the full story and shawn’s mom doesn’t. jen calling her evil or whatever was annoying. she has the right to be pissed. and the fact that jen doesn’t even acknowledge that shawn is the one who helped her out.

and then imogen blowing up at her dad. i like imogen a lot but i thought she totally overreacted as if her father committed some heinous crime. her mother gave back the ring years ago. if they had been together by the time of her death, and he took it and gave it to someone else THEN i’d understand. but to physically grab a knife and threaten to cut off her finger??? hello??? then she says to johnny “you must think im nuts” and he tells her he doesn’t… i do! it feels like the writers brushed that aside too much. i actually thought we were going to get a reveal that she only imagined it (in line with her medication issues) and that imogen would be upset for the rest of the dinner but that obv didn’t happen 😅

mouse was barely involved. i’m glad tabby told off wes. it felt like the writers were ignoring his weirdness from season 1 so at least we’re getting back to that. and i agree that it’s strange how fast henry was… converted.

overall, something about this season feels off to me. i don’t think i’m connecting with it as well as i thought i would but i am still looking forward to seeing where things go mystery wise. but the romance, friendship, and familial drama isn’t doing it for me. and the girls feel so disconnected but that might just be me feeling that.

I have yet again written a really long response to ask, so I have yet again decided to place it under a cut.

Okay. So, yeah, I will definitely stand behind the fact that I really feel the framing of the Noa & Jen breakup felt weirdly out of step with how they've been portraying the rest of that storyline so far. So then I just find myself thinking about what they're trying to tell us with that. Why? The thing that I find the most intriguing about this whole situation is the fact that, most of the time, they don't actually seem to be trying to make the audience like Jen at all. They go out of their way to give us scenes that make us feel bad for Shawn, just tons of him being sweet and oblivious and supportive, while also seemingly going out of their way to make Jen seem shady and like an absolute dick. That's such an interesting choice if they mean for Jen to continue on to possible future seasons of the show. It would have been so much easier to just have Jen be super nice and Shawn and Noa's relationship to be falling apart more organically. But that's not what they've done at all.

So why would you do this if you ultimately want your audience to want Noa and Jen to end up together? The only particularly good explanation I can see for that would be if Shawn's going to be a revealed as an antagonist, or possibly if they're going to try to pull a reframing twist of some kind where we see why Jen has said and done what she has this season and it was genuinely actually the best she could do and it makes us feel differently about those words/actions (but this doesn't really help redeem Noa's behavior, which a lot of people are struggling with). This second thing is pretty hard to pull off, but it can be done (see 1x04 of Queen Charlotte). I'm not sure PLL is the kind of show that wants to devote the time/care needed for that kind of storyline, but it's certainly a thought I've had.

The other answer would be that they don't actually care if the audience likes Jen because she's a temporary character being utilized as a plot device and they have no long term plans to keep her around (either because she's a villain, or because she just leaves once she's completed summer school).

The last option I've got is just that... they didn't mean for it to come off quite as harshly as it has for a lot of viewers (like if they are making Shawn so "perfect" because it's more dramatic for the audience if he's so oblivious and supportive, but they kind of over did it and now a lot of the audience just feels super bad for him to an extent they weren't supposed to?), but this seems less likely because like... how would you not realize the way this is going to come off? I mean, I HAVE seen writer's rooms and showrunners that are so completely out of touch with the audience, so it's not impossible, but in this case, it feels very intentional, imo.

I think one thing that is really common in fandom (or honestly just in humans in general) is letting our first impression or a generally good or bad impression color everything. So, for instance, I will see a lot of people excuse literally any and all of the girls' behavior, seemingly just because... we like them? They aren't always right. You can still root for someone and acknowledge they've handled something poorly or done something wrong. The girls don't need to be morally perfect for us to justify liking them.

So I think a great example of what happens in the opposite direction (we don't like this character, so they are never allowed to be right) is Shawn's mom. Shawn's mom sucks. I mean, I totally agree. She's a dick to Noa, showed a lack of compassion for her difficult situation, the passive aggressive way she spoke to her on multiple occasions was just flat out childish, and my overall opinion of her is that she sucks. But just because I think that overall she's shown more bad than good, and I don't personally like her, that doesn't mean that she's always wrong.

To an extent, I agree with her. She's right to be upset about Shawn pulling 2k out of his bank account for Noa just out of the blue with no explanation. I think it was also totally fair for her to remind Noa of the "house rules" if she's living with them. There is nothing weird about not wanting your teenage (minor) son to have a live in girlfriend who is ignoring your family boundaries. There is nothing weird about being concerned about your teenage son emptying all his savings for his girlfriend. As a mom, I think it's normal for her to be concerned about the things she's been concerned about. Most moms wouldn't be chill with this situation. The way in which she went about addressing all of those things sucked, imo, but the fact that she's upset is very understandable. On the other hand, I get why Noa, Jen, and even Shawn are not happy with his mother, (personally, I'm not sure that Jen really has many feelings about Shawn's mom at all, I think she just sees that conflict as a crack in Noa's relationship with him and she is actively trying to get Noa and Shawn to break up, so of course she was going to take this opportunity). They are teenagers. They feel like they're adults, and this feels overbearing to them. And the show honestly treats them like adults a lot of the time, so it's a weird cognitive dissonance for the audience, too.

I'm not sure where Rebecca & Imogen's dad might fit into the larger plot line, but I think the point of that scene for Imogen was to show that she is really close to snapping. In Dr. Sullivan's files she wrote something about Imogen teetering on the edge of a psychotic break, so I don't think the audience is supposed to think that was a totally normal response (I mean, I do get why she's upset. She clearly has sentimental value attached to the ring, and she feels like her mom is being replaced, regardless of how true that feeling is), and while I do agree that Johnny's response is startlingly chill, when I thought about it, I realized that sort of has been his character so far. He hasn't had much screen time, but his main characterization is being really calm no matter what's thrown at him and just staying kind of level. He's taken everything Imogen has said and done really easily and talked her down when she's upset. I think Imogen's deteriorating mental state will be a major part of the next three episodes. I even talked a bit about this in my breakdown of the trailer (I won't go into details here, because I know some people don't watch the trailers) and where I think that is going. I also definitely think her grabbing the knife is foreshadowing (so possibly this scene got a little over the top because they needed that moment). It's the second time Johnny has gotten her to hand him a knife when she's panicking, and I'd bet just about anything there will be a third time (though I suspect it will be an unsuccessful third time) this scenario comes up. Whether or not that's Johnny maybe failing to talk Imogen out of stabbing someone else, or him, who knows? Depends on if he's good or bad.

I always love seeing Wes get put in his place. He is trash. He just is. Even if he's not going to turn out to be a major antagonist, I'm glad the show is acknowledging that.

I can see where you're coming from with the way the relationships (of all kinds) are dealt with this season. There's just a lot of stuff going on, and I think the show is struggling a bit to balance all of it. Like you've got 3 established main love interests, 3 brand new love interests, Imogen's situation with Estelle, Greg & Kelly's relationship, the Mrs. Beasley/church thing, the BR "tests," the online mystery boards, Chip's lingering legacy & his mom, the online version of the cult, Mouse's grandmother, Faran's job, Tabby's films, Dr. Sullivan's whole plot, actual Rose Waters, and now this stuff with Imogen's dad. It's a ton to try to tie together, and it also means limited screen time for each of these things. I think if the show had even just like 12 or 13 episodes for this season, so there was a little bit of breathing room, it might feel like we get more time for characters to grow, connect, and just be themselves. A ton happens in each of these episodes. I would know, since I type it up every time one releases and it takes ages because there's so many different things going on. Plus, we don't know why any of these things are happening. Last season we had motive and it was more about "who." This season we don't know who or why. So it's just... a lot.

I'm having fun over-analyzing and breaking it down, but I can definitely see why it could be a hard to connect with.

#ask #answered #anon #pll #pretty little liars #pll summer school #pretty little liars summer school #pll spoilers #pretty little liars spoilers #pll summer school spoilers #pretty little liars summer school spoilers #i may have lost the plot a bit in the middle of this ask i am so sorry #long post #very long post

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the-cat-chat · 7 months

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February 3, 2024

While You Were Sleeping (1995)

A hopelessly romantic Chicago Transit Authority ticket booth operator is mistaken for the fiancée of a comatose patient.

JayBell: Valentine's Month 2024 begins with the one and only Sandra Bullock. I really like how they emphasize her character's loneliness in the movie. She has no family anymore, and while she has some friends, she longs to be part of something more. She feels isolated and alone, and this helps make some of her absolutely insane decisions throughout the movie feel somewhat sane (getting engaged before going on a single date hellooo??).

The dialogue is great, the actors are great, it's funny, it's heartwarming, there's good chemistry between Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman, she's a likeable and relatable character, the list goes on and on.

For someone who hates those "big misunderstanding" plots in romance movies, I think it works well here. And by that I mean it's only minimally painful.

I do wish Bill Pullman would get his act together and take initiative. At one point, he realizes his brother ain't all that into Sandra Bullock's character, but he doesn't go to Sandra and express this? Like I get protecting your brother, but seriously dude?

Also the old not-grandpa has got some nerve orchestrating all this and then leaving it up to Sandra to get herself out of the mess. Not cool.

Rating: 8/10 cats 🐈

Anzie: Now it’s a given fact that anyyy movie with Sandra Bullock is amazing. Even if said movie is mildly irritating like this one was. I’m not gonna lie- is it the best classic romance movie of the 90s- no—— but I loved it- Sandra Bullock’s character is so cute and awkward. And Peter Gallagher is so young. And somehow even a younger Bill Pullman looks like an old man (as I google him I realize he was 40, but whatevs). The premise is so insane and weird and death inducing cringe level if you really had to live through it. And I love how away the situation gets- and it’s all cute when you think the brother might really know what’s going on. but. The continuous misunderstandings between them is annoying. And the godfather guy?? Giant sneak. Huge liar. Employee of Satan. Take your pick- he’s it. And Joey jr. Just Wow. I liked how intense the family was and that Sandra Bullocks character embraced that rather than being like gawd his family is sooo annoying. All in all I thought it was a cute and funny movie although it made me wanna scream at times. Also the wedding scene??? Wow. And these people never kiss. Never have a date. Never say I love you. Never OUTRIGHT say how they feel. THeY JUSt sHaRE liTtLe DoE EyED gLaNCeS and bam Let’s get Married! I wish. Anyway. We’ve seen wayyyyyyy worse and I had a good time.

Rating: 6.5/10 Cats 🐈

#movie #movie review #film #film review

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grapecaseschoices · 9 months

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But I'm glad you're having such a fine time, who is your tav going for?

I do have some problems with the game, but overall it's fun to play. Probably wyll or laezel. Initially I was gonna go for shadowheart bcs I really liked her character design and my tav also hs that similar kind of dry sarcastic sense of humour. But after having her for a while in my party, she got on my nerves real quick. I tried out some races and she almost always had something to say about it. Im not thst far into it and I like astarion but the fact that he can leave ur party if ur character kicks him in the nuts sent me and now I can't take him seriously. I think my tav enjoys messing around with him. I just keep throwing spells at him and reviving him and he hasn't left yet so he's a trooper. 😂

I was playing as a tiefling originally but they kept having stuff to say about them being a tiefling and it got kinda annoying so I changed it to something else. /lh 💀

Playing as a Sorcerer is so much fun I can just make shit explode. Idk how to use astarion though, I just make him throw arrows and hide, he doesn't really do much in fights, but he's funny so I keep him around. I might get rid of shadowheart, but she's also a cleric and provides good heals so idk. She's so fine but she's really got a poll stuck up her ass so idk. Some of the remarks she makes about certain races and some of her actions towards a certain character because they are that race (don't wanna spoil it) just kind of put me off especially with her being white. I'm aware it's fantasy and stuff and I haven't finished the story, but anyways we'll see, maybe she'll get better. 😅

Wyll is my fave so far, he's super underrated!! I do wish there were more romance options of color though. I think so far I've only met one which is Wyll. 😭😭

sorry for the late response! i have not been my best the past weekend!

I do have some problems with the game, but overall it's fun to play.

Me a salty, hater: Feel free to share~~

. I tried out some races and she almost always had something to say about it. Im not thst far into it and I like astarion but the fact that he can leave ur party if ur character kicks him in the nuts sent me and now I can't take him seriously.

DOES SHE?? I have done an half-orc but she hasn't said anything?? Unless I wasn't paying attention. Who does she say shit for? I know Giths for sure, and I imagine drows. Also ROFLMAO. I mean TBF TO HIM! hahaha

I was playing as a tiefling originally but they kept having stuff to say about them being a tiefling and it got kinda annoying so I changed it to something else. /lh 💀

omgoodness. the druids right? omg so like i have a druid tief and i thought it might be like double the fun bc of the grove, but whew. literally every breath like: WOW YOU DEVIL YOURE SO EDUCATED FOR A A DEVIL. WOW HAHA DEVIL. it's like dude. 1. not a devil 2. heard the joke the first three times, ain't yall tired? so far proving to be worse for my half-drow but havent made it far.

Idk how to use astarion though, I just make him throw arrows and hide, he doesn't really do much in fights, but he's funny so I keep him around. I might get rid of shadowheart, but she's also a cleric and provides good heals so idk. She's so fine but she's really got a poll stuck up her ass so idk. Some of the remarks she makes about certain races and some of her actions towards a certain character because they are that race (don't wanna spoil it) just kind of put me off especially with her being white. I'm aware it's fantasy and stuff and I haven't finished the story, but anyways we'll see, maybe she'll get better. 😅

i mean he's good for picking locks. that was actually his sole purpose for me for the longest. then is tarted respecing him/multiclasing him thus he became my lock picker AND my arrow man in certain PTs. or my arrow man/shadow man. i am sure i dont use that to the full potential bc i am such a newb but wte. so you're not alone.

lmao i mean if you get a paladin or a druid or you multiclass someone else ... but honestly i havent really dealt with her racism outside of lae'zel -- which i do admit really annoys me. lmao. i remember i had a PT where it was lae'zel that saved her but she gave all the credit to astarion and im like ....... is this a glitch or is she just that ... bad re: giths. and nah, it's still annoying. the fantasy racism.

also i feel i under use my sorcerers bc im still figuring out the meta magic stuff but i do like them. are you wild magic then? both mine [i ended up respecing my durge to multiclass paladin and sorcerer] are dragon ancestory bc everyone and the mom says its best and also bc im a sucker for that shit.

Wyll is my fave so far, he's super underrated!! I do wish there were more romance options of color though. I think so far I've only met one which is Wyll. 😭😭

He is LITERALLY the only one. I know people wnat to include Karlach bc of what Larian did with her features [some people said she was modled after Gemma Chan] but I do not, because her voice actress is white. IDC. She is white. She a white woman who got surgery. Blame Z----l, if it makes yall feel better. She got a fetish or something. But Karlach is WHITE.

But Wyll is. [You know why. But also because Larian gives him so little but ... YOU KNOW WHY.]

It is one of my many issues with the game.

#grapecase answers #grapecase plays bg3 #long post #anon

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bearbaitmegs · 1 month

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What I Wish I'd Said At My Grandmother's Funeral

Nobody spoke up at my grandmother’s funeral. The pastor’s mouth grew a little thinner and he pushed on. My mother was too devastated to speak. My uncle was ready for it all to be over with. I was disappointed her siblings, in her friends, in myself. I wish I’d had something prepared, but I didn’t know what to say at the last minute. I had been fixated on my own life and nobody had mentioned that it was an option. Her obituary said that she loved to knit. That was wrong. She crocheted. I was annoyed with my uncle over it. Nobody stepped up to talk about how much they might have loved her. Our audience counted only twelve. I wish I were braver. Bravery is an action.

It was on my grandmother’s deathbed this spring that I learned, for the first time, that there was a poet humming inside of her. Her personality blurred by dementia, she was overflowing with it. Couplets and cowboy poetry and limericks and Shakespeare quotes. She was catty and funny and quick with wit. If she had ever put any of her poems to paper in her 84 years, they are all lost now.

I think my grandmother was a lover of beautiful things, perhaps from a lack of kindness in her youth. She was born to a single mother at a time when it was almost impossible for single mothers to raise their daughters, and though the stepfather that came after bore her three beloved siblings to raise as her own, I suspect living with him was worse than living in poverty, for reasons we can all guess but daren’t name. She never found out who her father was.

In the end, she married a man who was also broken. She left him at the altar once and they later reunited while she bore another man’s child. My grandfather was a deeply loving man, who strived to do better than his own father had done by him, and while he succeeded it was rife with heavy failures. He was a physical man, to his wife, to his children, often to their detriment. She didn’t often stop him. I believe she knew it as a simple and universal fact of life: that to love is to fear.

He died some 22 years before her. A lifetime. My grandmother had a second adolescence with his passing, which I, at the time, was too young to appreciate and celebrate her for. Her children never forgave her for falling in love again, though the relationship eventually softened into neglect. She outlived all of her lovers. She outlived her oldest son.

My grandmother was a skilled sewer. She made clothes for her children and clothes for her grandchildren. I still have the dress she made me in fourth grade. She made many, many outfits for porcelain dolls. She made doilies. She gardened. She smoked. She loved roses. She won ribbons at state and county fairs for her cooking, though at home it was commonly burned. She loved sequins and tassels and Elvis Presley. She always had her nails done. She lived her fifties like most of us do in our twenties: winning karaoke contests in Las Vegas and getting shots poured down your throat on stage. She loved cats. She liked card games and fashion magazines and soap operas and bodice ripping romance novels. I suspect romance, as I have known it in my life, was deeply absent from hers. She collected souvenir spoons and I never asked why. She didn’t know how to manage money or bills, but I suspect that no one took the time to show her how after my grandfather died. After he passed, she grew out her hair for the first time since they’d been married. It was lovely and white. For the first time since she was young, she was allowed to be pretty. I suspect she had a disorder of some kind, though I can’t say what. She struggled to keep track of time, to put the timer on, often was caught up in distractions. I don’t know what her favorite color was. When I inherited her car, I named it after her.

The self-neglect was always there, a by-product of her youth, and by the time I was old enough to understand what was happening it was too late to treat it. Trying to take care of her final years made my mother ill and when we gave up, my older uncle was resentful and my younger uncle became numb, more concerned with being embarrassed by her in public than her well-being. I know she got lost trying to find her way home several times. They kept asking why she didn’t care, but followed that up with asking why she couldn’t change. None of us loved her enough to take care of her until the end. In my mother’s case, she was not well enough; the stress making a ghost of her. I remember my mother begging her to change long after the possibility had passed.

My mother got the call about my grandmother’s impending end in January of 2024. They anticipated that she had four weeks left. Surrounded, for some time, by family and support and visitors, she rallied for four long months, as if being on the receiving end of love had brought her back to life again. Love in those moments was aggressively unconditional, as it should have been already.

I was her only granddaughter. My brother, her only grandson; he couldn’t make it to her funeral and I know it will scar him for years to come, one of many. When we sent her packing back to Seattle, there was no decision I could make that would relieve me of regret, so I took the one that was easier in the moment. My grandmother was not always kind to my mother and in those small moments where her own resentment came biting, I shied away as well. I have always been estranged from most members of my family and when confronted with them I regress and grow quiet.

I never felt close to her, though we tried. I know she spent her last years dearly lonely. I know I am one of many who bear fault in that. I remember going strawberry picking with her when I was very small, before the fields were paved over for new car lots, making gallons and gallons of red jam. I remember dying my hair that same color in her bathtub, many years later.

I still have the baby blanket she made in preparation for my birth and I always will. I still have the sewing machine she gifted me for my 10th birthday. It still works.

I placed her urn into the ground myself and left it with a bright red lipstick kiss on top. My uncle couldn’t stand to touch it. My mother was a walking wound. I didn’t take enough pictures. The urn was plastic. I hate it for being plastic. If I’d known beforehand, I would have made something better for her.

I think I would have made something crocheted.

#megii #obituary #death

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astronomoney · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Tim Drake x nb!reader (it’s not super romance heavy but I might do a part two)

Prompts: n/a this is purely self indulgent

Summary: sometimes life gives you lemons and sometimes life tells you your best friend and the guy you hate are the same person, your not sure what’s worse

Warnings: n/a

A/n: is this canon compliant? no. does it make much sense? not really. do I like and did I have fun writing it? absolutely. read at your own risk Masterlist also this should be totally nb but if you see anything that’s gender solid please let me know so I can fix it

Word count: 2k it got to long but there’s plenty of material for a second part (wink wink nudge nudge)

Secrets Spilled

Rich people suck. More specifically, rich teenagers suck. You should know, you go to school with one. Tim Drake, the pride and joy of Gotham Academy and the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Was he actually adopted? You didn’t remember but that didn’t matter. Mr. Wayne has a habit of picking up strays almost as bad as Batman and Tim Drake was lucky enough to end up under his umbrella of wealth.

You had 3 classes with Tim Drake. He was smart and most of the teachers liked him well enough, in fact most of the school liked him. You however hated him. Sure he was cute and he seemed nice enough and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it but something about him was just off. Like he had some big secret or something.

No one at school seemed to agree with you on that. They all thought he was a perfect angel so you stopped trying to convince them of your anti-drake agenda a long time ago. Thankfully you had one person in your life who always listened to your rants.

“He sounds like a douchebag,” Red Robin said, sitting cross legged on your bed with an ice pack against his lip. Through some minor computer shenanigans, aka illegal hacking (nothing to bad), you had met and become close friends with none other than Red Robin.

It was a mutually beneficial friendship. For him it was an apartment almost exactly halfway between safe houses so on nights like tonight when he was a little bloody and bruised he’d stop by and you’d help patch him up. For you it was a captivated audience for your late night rants.

“Oh he totally is! Thank you for that, no one ever agrees with me,” You rolled your eyes thinking about how many times you’d heard people gush about the billionaire brat. You sat down across from him and opened the first aid kit you’d just dug out from under your bed.

You were too busy rifling through the various bandages and ointments to notice your vigilante friend desperately trying to hide his smirk. “Yeah no problem,”

“He’s way smart too, which is super annoying.” You found the healing gel you were looking for. “I swear he’s hiding something, he must be like an alien or a robot or-” You looked up to see a laugh-suppressing-grin on the heros face, “Don’t laugh, I'm serious! This guy is a pain and just because he’s hot people let it slide!”

Red's face went completely serious and you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks tint pink underneath his domino mask but then again his left side had a sizable cut on it so you really couldn’t tell. “You- you think he’s hot?”

“That is so not the point I'm trying to make!” You rolled your eyes and dabbed a bit of gel on the cut. “But yeah, his looks are like, his only redeeming quality.” Once you had laid a thin layer against the cut you used some butterfly bandages to hold it closed. It was exactly pretty but it would heal well, and the gel would make it nothing but a small scar in a week or so. “You know, you kinda look like him. Is that what you're hiding?” You used this opportunity to tap the bottom edge of the mask, resisting the urge to just take it off right then. “Rugged good looks and a billionaire smile.”

“Oh ha ha,” He retorted sarcastically, lightly moving your hand away from the fabric. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to know his identity. It’s not that he didn’t want to tell you, it’s just that he’d heard you complain about his alter ego enough times to worry about your reaction, plus the whole ‘your-life-would-be-in-constant-danger-if-you-knew’ thing. Lately he’d found himself going out of his way to end up knocking on your window and he didn’t want what you had to change.

“You're no fun.” You huffed, hoping off the bed stashing the first-aid kit once again. You heard a small buzz and knew that Red had gotten an alert.

He stood up, and listen for a second. You could only guess he was getting instructions via earpiece. “Got it, I’m on my way.” He called over coms before turning back to you with an apologetic look.

You spoke before he could get an apology out. “Let me guess, some goon’s breaking open an ATM and everyone else is busy?”

“Pretty much yeah,” He ducked under your windowsill onto your fire escape. “Thanks for the help. I don’t know where I'd be without you.”

“Probably at that robbery already,” You gently shoved him the rest of the way through the window and bid him farewell. You watched him grapple off into the dim moonlight before getting back into your bed. Over the past few weeks you’d started staying up later just in case a certain someone happened by, this of course made that full 8 hours a little harder to come by. You didn’t really care though, a little less sleep for a little more time with him seemed like a fair trade.

The next morning finally came and you weren’t exactly pleased to hear the familiar beeping of your alarm clock. Still you forced yourself out of bed, pulled your uniform on and got your stuff together before heading out the door to another day at Gotham Academy.

You didn’t have any classes with Tim on Friday’s but you usually saw him passing you in the hall or at lunch. Today was different. One might even say he was avoiding you, but why. You saw a glimpse of him quickly heading away from you before second period, and at lunch you got a great view of the back of his head for about 30 seconds before he ducked out to go who knows where. Sure, you weren’t exactly friends but today it seemed he’d gone completely out of his way to make sure you didn’t see him. And it was pretty successful, at least until you literally collided with him.

School had let out and you had almost left the building before you remembered you’d left something behind, on your way back to your locker you turned a corner without caution and slammed into him at full force. It was a classic early 2000s movie scene, papers and books flying and strewn across the floor, both parties crouching down to collect up their scattered items and inevitably accidentally grabbing the wrong paper or two.

“Ah sorry, i’m so sorry I didn’t see-” That’s when you actually saw who it was you’d bumped into. “Tim?” You handed him the printed out english paper that definitely wasn’t yours.

“Sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” He apologized as you both stood up and placed your papers in your respective books bags. Something about him was even more off then usual. He wouldn’t even meet your eyes, in fact he kept his gaze firmly to his left. Maybe he’d somehow heard you complain about him and now he wanted nothing to do with you. Maybe you’d messed it all up.

You were about to awkwardly say bye and shuffle off when a locker a little ways away from you slammed shut, startling you both and causing Tim to finally look to his right.

“Whoa what happened to your face?” You asked leaning in slightly to see the hefty gash that had been carefully held together with butterfly bandages. “That looks just like,” It clicked. “hOLY-”

“SHHH!” Tim acted fast, he clapped a hand over your mouth, effectively putting your mind shattering realization on silent and rushed the both of you into a thankfully unlocked maintenance closet nearby.

Suddenly a bajillion pieces were falling into place in your mind. Tim cursed. “God, if you know now what I think you know you’re gonna have a lot of questions. So I'm gonna move my hand but you have to be quiet about it. Ok?” He spoke softly and full of concern. After all, he may have just caused a massive overload in your brain. Your kind of enemy and your closest confidant were the same damn person, who knows what that could do to someone’s psyche.

You nodded profusely, still unable to even conjure a sound. Slowly Tim lifted his hand away from your mouth and watched you closely. You didn’t say anything for a beat, you just stared back at him and then, “What the actual fuck! You’re him and he’s- which means- I mean all this time- and… what?!?”

“Umm yeah?” In all honesty this was going better than Tim had imagined it would. Whenever he’d envisioned you finding out it usually started with you cursing him out and ended with you never talking to him again, but now here he was. You hadn’t cursed him out exactly and you were kind of still talking to him so overall, better than expected. “I wanted to tell you ages ago I swear. I just know how you feel about… well me,” He gestured down to his civilian attire. “and I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“All this time,” You were still definitely in shock. “All this time you were him and he was you! And you never told me! I talked about you to you! I called you hot!”

“Oh yeah, thanks by the way.” A shit eating grin had made its way onto his face and you were not pleased.

“Oh fuck off!” You sunk down to sit on a little step stool that happened to be in the closet. “I can’t believe I was so dumb. I mean how did I not see it sooner!”

Tim crouched down in front of you. “To be fair, we put a lot of effort into keeping our secrets.”

“We? Wait a second! If you’re Red Robin, that makes Batman-”

“Yup.”

“And Nightwing-”

“Oh yeah.”

“So Robin is-”

“A total pain in the ass. But yeah, it’s Damian.”

“Holy shit!”

Tim finally let himself laugh a bit at your reaction. You were smart and he knew that, there had been a few times over the past few weeks when he thought you might put it all together and he’d gone out of his way to cover it up. Including (but not limited to) a leaked story to the tabloids about a Tim-Drake-kidnapping-attempt that was thwarted by the one and only Red Robin.

While the tabloids weren’t the most believable sources it had planted a seed in your brain that Red Robin and Tim Drake were in the same place at the same time. Of course thanks to that cut on his cheek he wouldn’t need to lie to you anymore.

“Don’t laugh! I can’t believe I didn’t see this months ago. I mean your stupid mask doesn't even cover that much!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air to emphasize your point.

Tim lightly grabbed your arms and brought them back down. “Ok ok, i’m serious but you seriously need to calm down.” He still had a massive grin on his face.

“I am calm!” You defended. “I mean considering. Wait, how did this start? Did you have to train long? When did you find out who Batman was? Is he really a Vampire?” You rattled off questions a mile a minute, finally the shock and slight annoyance had given way to pure curiosity.

Tim looked around the small maintenance room, contemplating a really bad idea. “I can’t explain anything else here, but if you want I can take you to the Batcave? I mean you’ve already guessed most of the secrets and even if I don't tell you the rest you’ll probably figure it out anyway.”

a/n: I broke 2k and couldn’t figure out a satisfying ending so I just called it here but if y’all show this one some love i’ll do a part too (guest appearances and everything)

taglist: @starship-argo @reveriecore @luvcoy @instabull @littlered-fangirl click here to be added :)

#identity reveal #tim drake x reader #writing fanfiction #writing fanfic #batboys x reader #dc x reader #red robin x y/n #red robin x reader #tim drake fluff #tim drake #tim drake x male reader #tim drake x fem!reader #writing #dc writers #x reader #dc fanfic #robin x reader

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huenjin · 4 years

Text

and they were roommates.

summary — who would have thought that a very naked sight of your best friend and a torn shower curtain in the rainiest of weathers could start romance? or in which you start falling for your childhood best friend, lee minho, unaware that he’s always been in love with you.

pairing — lee minho x reader, ft. binsung.

genre — fluff, smut, crack | roommates!au, bff2l!au

rating — 18+

word count — 11k words.

note — smut warnings under the cut, ofc! i suck at making summary adagafga!! but but but, i promise this story is adorable, okay, minus all that smut, my lame humor and those bit of rushed parts? this took forever and i'm so sorry for all that had to wait, especially the one who requested this uwuwu.

smut warnings — a lot of kissing, a lot of swearing, mentions of naked exposure, fingering, cunnilingus, riding/reader on top, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it), choking. there isn't a loooot of smut either, ah! so enjoy the fluff ride.

"You idiot," you scream, loud enough for your neighbours to hear. You pull out the keys that hang outside in the key hole and pull open the door. "How could you leave the keys outside, Minho?"

"I mean, what if someone stole it?" You throw your keys and Minho's into the small box on a ledge by the door. Removing your shoes, you put on the pair of your house shoes by the side and walk further into the apartment. "Or what if someone broke in? You could get killed, you dumb hoe! Or worse, our new television could get stolen."

You hear no response and just the loud sound of shower running in the bathroom hits the walls of your shared apartment. You walk to your room, passing by the common bathroom, after throwing your bag on the sofa. You talk on the way, yelling in hopes that he would hear.

"Did you walk back in the rain? There's no other reason as to why I did not see you after college. Jisung was searching for you too, Minho."

You change into a pair of shorts and black camisole, pulling your hair up and knotting it, all while your ears pick up the small humming from the bathroom. You shake your head at the fact that since it's Lee Minho in the shower, he is probably going to take his own time to come out. After all, he is the reason why your water bill is so high.

"Yah, Lee Minho!" You walk outside and hit the door with your fists to bring at least a little of his attention towards you. "Do you want the leftovers or should I get food delivered?"

"Delivery!" he screams back, hearing the shower sounds lower and you yell back in response, "Okay," and walk back to the living room, falling back and plopping down on the comfortable rexine covered sofa.

Your phone rings in the next minute and you are pulling it from your pocket quickly all because you are bored out of your mind. It is also because your stupid best friend from the god forbidden age of five to till this date, takes forever to get out from the shower.

It's Jisung. Not that you would have a doubt even if you had picked up without looking at the name on the screen — your friend circle is that small. It has just been you, Minho and Jisung majorly for almost three fourth of your life, the other one fourth of it with you having your parents as your best friends. Jisung had always been the annoying kid in the playground that pushed you off the swing because he wanted to play and Minho had always been the knight in shining armour in your local playground, the defender of all things right as he saved you from Jisung's frustrating taunts.

And then your mother — oh dear, she is the reason why you are still stuck with Minho's rich arse (mostly because she thought too that this is the finest her very antisocial daughter would ever find in a man) — decides that since Lee Minho was so kind to save her poor damsel-like daughter, he might as well do it forever. Fast forward to present day, and you are still cleaning up after him.

"Did Minho reach home?" Jisung asks as soon as you answer the call. You roll your eyes and shift your position to one that allows you to stretch your leg against the length of the sofa.

"Oh, hi, Y/N," you fake your tone, mocking Jisung's ignorance. "Did you reach home safely? Did you get caught in the rain? Oh no!" And then quickly changing it back to normalcy, "Yes, Jisung. I reached home safely. The rain did get heavy as I walked back home but nothing to worry. Did you reach home safely?"

Jisung is laughing loudly on the other end. "Sorry, Y/N," he makes a weird kissing sound and you pull your phone away from your ear. "I presume Minho's safe at home, else you would be the one to crash my phone with the endless calls in worry of his safety. Ha!"

"He got caught in the rain," you sigh. "I hope he's okay though. I would have mentioned how he was, had he just come out of that goddamn bathroom but no! It almost seems like he is rebuilding the whole bathroom." Jisung laughs so loud that you have to pull the phone away from your ear again.

"Dude, dude, dude," Jisung calls out for you through the line.

"Yeah?"

"You and Minho are totally like my parents fighting."

"Do you want to get punched in your face, Han Jisung?" You sit up straight, folding your leg across each other and bending forward, your elbow digging into your thigh as your hand supports your head.

"And my boyfriend would punch yours if you punched mine," he huffs and you know he is talking about Seo Changbin. At a good five feet and six inches, the shorter male befriended Jisung and then wooed him over in grade eleven with some weird shining universe experiment for a science project and the Han Jisung you had always known, fell for the gesture immediately. They began dating a week after, making Changbin the only other human being you willingly chose to become closer to.

"Like Minho would let that," you click your tongue and Jisung laughs again, mumbling, "How have you guys not slept with each other yet? You guys are roommates."

"I'll kill you, Han Jisung."

"Like you would." The minute Jisung taunts back, you hear a loud noise of something crashing down and the sound is from the bathroom. You jump upwards, quickly hanging up without even telling Jisung that you were leaving as you drop your phone and rush towards the bathroom, taking huge steps to reach before the door in less than a few seconds.

You slam your fist against the door, over and over again, yelling, "Yah," to draw his attention before asking, "Minho, are you okay? I'm coming in," and you pull open the door to the common bathroom. A decision you wish you had not chosen but one you had to take for his safety.

Before a very surprised you lay a very, very naked Lee Minho, groaning with his back against the cold white tiles of the bathroom, neck lifting his head above to instinctively avoid hitting the floor. His hand holds a huge piece of the shower curtain that he must have tried holding onto before falling and as the colour drains from your face, lips wide apart, staring at your naked best friend in shock who is staring back at you, it dawns upon you quickly.

You immediately slap your hand over your eyes and scream as loud as you could possibly, "Fuck, fuck. I just saw your schlong, oh my god!"

"Are you not going to look at me at all now that you saw my dick?"

Minho rolls his eyes at you as a soft groan leaves his lip while he tries to make himself more comfortable on his bed. This time, he is fully clothed, black shirt over his torso and navy blue shorts. You are sitting on a small chair by his side, Chinese herbal medicinal mix in a white ceramic bowl, a tub filled with warm water and a towel and long white bandages on the table by the bed. The Chinese herbal medicinal mix was something your mother specifically ordered you to prepare for the boy before you.

You hand him a cup of warm water first which he takes and is about to swallow it down when you look at the wooden bedpost behind him and mumble, "But I saw your womb raider." Minho chokes on the water before coughing and you quickly pat his back which leads him to cry softly in pain and you are left apologising over and over again for being reckless.

He places the cup on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he narrows his eyes at you and questions, "Womb raider? What the fuck?"

"You know, your schlong," you look away, heat rising up to your cheek. "I saw your schlong, a womb raider."

"I can't believe you call a dick that," he groans, rolling his eyes as if he has completely given up on you, "After having your womb raided enough by many womb raiders."

You look away, taking the ceramic bowl in your hand and mumbling, "None of them were long and thick enough to be called a womb raider though."

"Did you say anything, Y/N?"

"Nothing," you yell and glare at him, cheeks still hot with the image still vivid in your head. "You can't look disappointed in me," you frown at him, "I should be disappointed. You tore the shower curtain."

"It was a mistake!" Minho gasps and tries to sit up but quickly ditches the plan when he feels the spin surge through him. You place the bowl back on the table and push yourself forward to help Minho sit up, your arms wrapped around his waist, your chest against his as you slowly pull him up. Minho explains himself, "If I didn't hold onto that, I would have gotten injured worse. I'm almost perfect now. It's just the slight—" You press your palm against his back and he seethes in pain.

"Slight pain, indeed," you scoff and finally let him rest against the bedpost. "This should do the magic though." You lift the ceramic bowl again and wave it before him, shoving the weird smelling green substance right in front of his nose. "My mother totally said it would work. She also said that you would have to be on the bed resting the whole day."

"You'll be my maid the whole day," Minho lights up, face instantly shining and you sigh, "Do I have an option? After this day though, we are going to buy shower curtains and you are going to pay for it because you tore it." You accuse him and he clicks his tongue.

"Fine."

"Remove your shirt now," you order and he looks at you, a teasing glint glistening in his eyes and he smiles, moving slightly closer.

"Why? Are you going to call my abs washboard now? That you could do laundry on them?" He purses his lips and leans forward and you push him back, his aching back hitting the bedpost again and Minho is crying with pain on the soft impact, albeit this time, you worry if it is fake. "Y/N," he cries, clamping down against his lower teeth hard, "Can you go easy on me?"

"Then stop teasing me!"

"Fine!" He huffs and looks away, "Help me out of this shirt now."

"What? Why? You put the shirt on fine. Can't you remove it on your own?" You question him, the ceramic bowl securely on your lap. Minho stares at you for the longest time ever and you stare back.

Has his eyes always been this tender? Has his skin always been this soft? Was Lee Minho always this charming and pretty to look at?

This is all because you saw his stupidly good dick, argh!

Minho finally answers, "It's harder to remove a shirt than to wear it." You shake your head and your eyes narrow to crinkled slits as you watch your best friend for a second more before placing the crucible back on the table and bending yourself forward to hold tightly the ends of his black shirt. You lift the black material up and remove it from his torso, exposing his abdomen and chest to the warm breeze in the air.

He stares at you and you stare at him back, only till you take the white ceramic bowl again and hopefully the last time and you raise an eyebrow at him, mocking him, "Aren't you going to give me the classic Wattpad naked white male line?"

"What line?"

He looks confused and you laugh, holding the bowl tightly, "You know, the—" You try to lower the pitch of your voice and to sound as cocky as possible, smirking, "Like what you see, baby girl?"

Minho laughs with you till he calms himself down a little, tilts his head and in the most guttural voice you have ever heard your best friend ever go, he repeats, "Like what you see, my baby girl?"

Your heart should not have sped up. Your fingers should not have tightened against the cold white crucible. You should not have pressed your thighs against each other. You should not have had your throat dried up at his very words. But it did and you are staring at Lee Minho in an angle you had never seen him.

When did that stupid five year old boy who thought he could save the whole world grow up into this man?

"Uh, Y/N," Minho waves his hand in front of you, trying to bring your attention back. "Are you going to apply the medicine or? I mean, it's cold."

"Oh yeah," you stutter. "Yeah, yeah, I was about to. Can you turn back so that I can apply it on your back?"

"Yeah," he nods and pressing his hands into the mattress, he shifts himself, turning a one hundred and eight degrees away from you so that his back is facing yours. "This okay?"

"Yeah," you agree. You bend your arm forward to take the cloth soaked in warm water and you press it against his back. Minho bites his tongue in pain, eyes watering before he can't take it anymore and he turns back to face you.

"Minho?"

"Can I do that thing you allowed me to do whenever I was in pain and you had to take care of me?" He asks, unsure, "Am I allowed?"

You nod, softly, smiling warmly at the man before you and you lift the chair up slightly. Minho quickly wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried into your soft chest as he edges closer to you. You place the warm cloth again on his broad back and Minho does what he has always done to combat pain.

He bites into your flesh softly, hard enough to trigger something weird within you at this age but soft enough to not cause any pain.

Your eyes widen and your thighs tighten a bit but Minho is unaware to all this as he snuggles into your warmth, head fuzzy with the pain that throbs through his entire back. After a few minutes, you place the cloth back on the table and hold the crucible tightly. You dig your forefinger and middle finger into the green mix before applying it on his back, soft circles to calm him down and Minho lets go of your flesh, although he still continues to snuggle into you, his thick arms tightening around your frame.

"You're comfortable to hug," he mumbles as you apply the medicine all over his back, his face occasionally pressing against your breast and you gulp, reminding yourself that this is your best friend, that this is the kid you've seen in all his embarrassments.

"Of course, I am," you laugh. "It doesn't pain that much, does it?"

"Not anymore."

"Good," and you apply another layer over the existing one. "Because if you say anything else to my mother, I swear to God, Lee Minho, I will—"

You don't complete. Minho laughs — soft, precious laughter that fills the air and engages your ears. He tilts his head to look up at you from his lower angle. You look down only to come in direct vision of his bright, glistening eyes that hold the stars behind them and his oh-so-flawless skin that you are envious of. Your heart beat escalates and you are about one hundred percent sure that Minho is aware. After all, he did have his ear against your chest in this position.

"Fine, fine," his voice is airy and you could listen to it the whole day. "I'll tell your mother that her daughter took care of me perfectly, alright?"

"Perfect," you smile. "Now sit up straight. I need to bandage you up, just in case." Minho begrudgingly pulls back, a soft whimper leaving his lips before he huffs, folding his arms and sitting straight, looking you in the eyes and you gulp.

"I'll be fine in a day, Y/N," Minho whines and you shake your head, mumbling, "Just in case." You turn your body to grab hold of the white roll of bandage before you beckon for him to come a little closer as you wrap the bandage over his torso, covering the medicinal herbs sticking to his body now.

"You, in fact," you chuckle as you tighten the bandage and Minho seethes in pain at having his muscles pressed. You rub his hair affectionately before continuing, "You, Lee Minho, should be ready enough to cash out money for the shower curtain."

"Fine, fine, fine," Minho huffs only to break out into a smile as he looks at you. "We'll go as soon as I don't think I'll die if I stand up and straighten my back, okay?"

"Perfect," you laugh and pull yourself away from your best friend, clipping the bandage in the exact manner. You help him lie back against the soft mattress. You pick up the crucible and the tub of water as you stand up.

"Y/N," Minho calls out for you and you turn, your head gliding against the joint and your eyebrows rising up in question.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," he smiles, eyes closed and face so soft that you do want to hold it.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me, doofus. What would I have done had you not been there? You are my knight in shining armour now."

You laugh but your heart is furiously beating against your chest, thrumming against it so loudly that you can hear the beats. Your cheeks flush with heat and you look away, mumbling, "It's nothing," and walk away. You close the door quickly and fall against the vast wooden door finally, away from his presence and you hold the bowls close to you.

Fuck. When did your heart start beating this hard for the same man that you once knew as the stupid five year old with elephant print trunks? When did your heart start thrumming so loudly against your chest for your only best friend?

Either ways, you are doomed. Inevitably.

Jisung: baby, i think it's about time Changbin: for what? Jisung: you know, how we always said those two should probably fuck Changbin: yeah? Jisung: the sexual tension is too high. can we get it over with already and have them date already? Changbin: you've been trying this forever and you failed. Jisung: don't remind me. you're my boyfriend, support me. Changbin: fine! go, sungie!! i love you either way though.

It is exactly three days after the I-exposed-my-cock incident that Lee Minho agrees to go with you to buy the shower curtains.

"Can't we just buy it online?" He had whined, arms folding against each other as he scrolled through his phone. You stand by the sofa, head shaking in disappointment as you reason back, frustrated, "The material," and you hit his arm. Minho winces. "The material is important. I won't compromise on that. Plus, you promised that you would come with me to buy something that you tore. Isn't that only fair?"

Minho does so. After bargaining with him for one tub full of mint chocolate ice cream that you will never understand why he loves so much.

That is exactly how you find yourself here in this shop, shopping cart in your hand and Minho by your side.

"We are only buying the shower curtain," you tell him, staring at the half full shopping cart. "So I don't understand why we need all these."

Minho smiles sheepishly at you. He then points at the two tubs of ice cream and says, "One for you, and one for me. I even chose your favorite flavor!" He continues to point at each article and tell why he needs them very articulately and you stand there in surprise before breaking his speech.

"Fine, fine!" You push the cart ahead. "Now let's just go and get what we came here for." Minho follows you, his one hand on the shopping cart handle to keep pace with you. The two of you stop right in front of the array of curtains in different colours, some on display and some packaged and you smile, whispering under your breath, "Tada." Minho looks at you softly, at the small voice of joy that escapes your lips and he just watches you light up in fascination at something as simple as shower curtains.

Fuck, he loves your domesticity.

"Let's take this," Minho announces as he stretches his arms out to hold onto a pretty blue shower curtain. You hold it in between your fingers feeling the texture before announcing, "No."

"But why?" Minho whines, following your footsteps as you hold onto another shower curtain.

"Because it's polythene," you frown at your best friend. Minho looks at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowing as they look at you like you have grown another pair of hands and legs.

"And so?"

"You could tear it again!"

"It happened once," he sighs, frustrated. "Once. It's not like I'm waiting to fall in the shower, tear the curtain and have you see my dick all the time, babe."

Your cheeks flush at his announcement and the tag he calls you by, your eyes looking away from his pretty face for a split second. Minho shakes his hand, taking a step forward to check a few other shower curtains out when the two of you hear a very familiar voice from behind, in the most professional manner ever.

"Sir, the one you chose is perfect. It is very durable and doesn't stain on contact with water—"

"Han Jisung?" Minho turns, the words of shock leaving his mouth almost instantly. You turn impulsively, eyes wide.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?"

"Hey," you narrow your eyes at the other male. "I could file a report for bad customer service about now, Sungie."

He folds his arms and looks at the two of you suspiciously, "What are you guys doing here?" He raises an eyebrow at you, scoffing at you, "Like you would."

"What does it look like we're doing here, Sungie?" You bite back jokingly and Jisung laughs, gaze shifting between the two of you.

"I don't know," he runs a hand through his hair before folding his arms again, his fluorescent yellow uniform crumbling with the shift in his arms. "Is this some sort of a new way to date?"

"We aren't—" You quickly start when Minho pulls a curtain forward and breaks your sentence before you can complete as he asks Jisung, "This isn't polythene, is it?"

"Are you stupid?" Jisung frowns before he laughs. "That's clearly polythene. Minho, dude, you're a chemical engineering student. You have got to be kidding me if you can't identify polythene."

Minho doesn't pay heed to Jisung's words. You, on the other hand, stare at your best friend who walks away from you to examine more shower curtains. Did Lee Minho really ask Jisung, a literature student, whether that was polythene — What in the world?

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" Jisung snaps your attention back to the present. "Are you going to buy shower curtains today?"

"Yeah?"

"But your shower curtains were fine the last time I came home." You understand Jisung's surprise because the last time he did come home was five days back and the shower curtain was in a perfect condition. "What happened?"

You stretch your arms and point at Minho. The very culprit rolls his eyes before raising his eyebrows and sighing, voicing in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard Minho take, "Yes, Y/N. Yes, Ji. It's me. I tore the shower curtain because I fell in the shower."

"Ouch," Jisung acknowledges Minho's injury before walking past the two of you and taking a shower curtain. "Here's one. You might like this, Y/N."

"It's not PVC, Sungie."

Jisung wants to hit your head, terribly. Perhaps it's your adamance that is the reason as to why your friendship is this tight and strong but in moments like these, he likes Minho more. Minho stands by the side, arms folded and back resting against the wall as he trusts your judgement.

"Are you not going to tell her anything?"

"She handles all this at home. Give her what she wants, Ji," he laughs, fiddling with a few more shower curtains by his side. Jisung shakes his head in disappointment before mumbling, a soft frustrated groan leaving his lips as he throws his head back, "Definitely a married couple," and takes a few polyvinyl chloride made shower curtains.

"Here," he presses his lips. "Don't blame me if the designs aren't that great. You don't get that many good designs in PVC. People go for polythene because it's more available."

"PVC doesn't tear and it's easy to clean!"

"Seconding this as a chemical engineering student," Minho chirps in from behind. You and Jisung turn to look at the man who is on his phone currently and shake your head lightly. "What?"

"He remembers his major now!" Jisung clicks his tongue. "All say, praise the Lord."

"I'm agnostic." You frown.

"More reasons for you to say it easily!"

You find a plain one in the ones he showed you and you take it. Jisung smiles finally, mumbling, "You're a frustrating customer."

"Nah," you scoff. Minho pushes himself off the wall as soon as he sees you done with the selection. "I just know what I want exactly. You, on the other hand, sweetheart," you poke his chest and Jisung chuckles. "You're a pathetic salesperson."

"Of course," he laughs the insult away. "I'm a literature student. I should be working in a publishing company as a part timer."

Minho takes the shower curtain from your hand and puts it in the cart by the side. He comes back, throwing his arm over Jisung's shoulder and frowns, "Apparently publishing companies care a lot more about who your parents are than your resume."

"It's just that publishing company," the other male looks down. "I'll try applying for another one soon."

"Do you want to grab a drink at our place tonight?"

"Can I?"

"Sure," Minho agrees. He drops his arm from Jisung's shoulder and holds the cart handle back, pushing it forward slightly. You take big strides to stand by Minho's side, also holding the handle slightly. Jisung raises his eyebrows at the two of you and with a smile that you don't think twice about, Jisung laughs.

"I'm coming over tonight."

"Sure," you throw your thumbs up at him, stretching your arm. Minho smiles softly at you, his eyes lingering a little longer at your happy figure and he feels his heart beat a little quicker at your sight. Your hair strands framing your face so beautifully, eyes shining the minute you find the exact thing you've had in your mind and your lips curving upwards in joy.

Lee Minho finds the calmness that spring brings him every year in him all over again with you by his side.

"Bring the soju. Beer is on us!"

Jisung: binnie, binnie!! Changbin: yes, baby? Jisung: i think i have a plan. Changbin: let them be, babe. Jisung: we let them be all these years! they pinned after each other without even knowing and we had to see that painfully! Changbin: i guess you make a valid point there Jisung: is it going to rain today? Changbin: it's been raining for the last few days, sungie. it could. just because i study geography as my minor doesn't mean i can forecast weather. hey! Jisung: fine~ i'm going to get them to confess tonight 👀 Changbin: don't mess up. istg Jisung: trust me 🥺 Changbin: i do. more than ever ❤️

Jisung reaches your doorstep at sharp nine. With two bottles of soju in his hands, you see the stains of the droplets of rain falling onto his shoulder.

It is drizzling for now and you worry if it is to rain heavily in a few minutes as the forecast mentioned. You hate the thunder. You hate how the weather changes drastically and worsens to a point that it frightens you and makes you anxious. It's a phobia you have managed to hide from everyone for fears of being treated weaker.

Jisung makes himself at home. He always has. He places the soju bottles on the kitchen countertop and Minho smiles to himself as he walks towards the point where Jisung has happily seated himself. Minho and you are on the other end of the counter while Jisung sits on the adjustable chair, swirling in it before stopping and facing you, Minho and the bottles of soju before him.

"Did it finally hit him?"

"I think?" You whisper back.

"I'm right here!" Jisung yells and you smile. Minho pulls the chair from under the counter and sits himself opposite the other male, pressing his lips together and trying to not laugh. He opens the bottle of soju after shaking it and hitting it against his elbow for a while. It clinks open, the metal hitting the glass before falling onto the table and you watch the two, as Minho pours a drink for Jisung.

He downs it in one go, letting out a loud sigh before stretching his arms and demanding a second one.

"Go easy, Sungie. You have the whole night."

"I don't," he huffs. "Now, please."

Minho pours it again before looking at you and you shake your head to indicate that you wouldn't mind a few. You grab hold of one of the empty cups on the counter before stretching your arm too. Minho laughs – a soft chuckle, so airy and light that you find yourself holding your breath for a small second there – and he pours you your drink.

You twirl your drink, watching the liquid glide against the surface of the cup. Your best friend gets up and walks a little into the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a box of leftovers of fried chicken that you bought a few days ago. He pulls open the microwave to heat it and as he waits, he turns to look back at Jisung and asks him finally.

"Do you want me to drop a word to my uncle?"

"About?"

"He heads the Cheongsam Publication," Minho reveelas, pulling out the chicken from the microwave. He places it before the two of you and almost like you and Jisung were zoomed in, in an American sitcom, both of you gasp dramatically.

"Am I really your best friend?" Jisung yells and you narrow your eyes at Minho. Faking tears in his eyes, he persists in questioning, "Do I not matter to you, Minho?"

"Why are you rooming with me when you could possibly afford a whole room on your own?"

"Yes, Jisung," Minho sighs and sits back on his chair. You bend forward, arms folded against the table as you stare at your best friend in betrayal. "Also, Y/N, don't you love having me around?"

He laughs and rests his head on your shoulder suddenly, causing you to stiffen them in response. Your eyes drift to the left, trying to not make it overtly obvious that Minho's sudden reaction has taken you by surprise. Your eyes land forward on Jisung who looks at you as if he knew this all along, as if he wanted exactly this. The man has a goddamn smirk plastered on his face.

Jisung downs two more shots and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, mumbling, "Slow the fuck down. No one's chasing you."

"Yeah, my goddamn plan," he mumbles before coughing and taking another. Minho sits up straight, finally lifting his head from your shoulder. He stretches his arm to pat Jisung's shoulder in comfort.

"I'll drop a word."

"Now, don't you dare go and say that you want to earn it and all that bullshit," you sigh. "It's the fucking Republic Of Korea. Nepotism is the norm."

"Not planning on saying that," Jisung glares at you. Clearly, Jisung is slightly tipsy, having been the only person to keep drinking. You and Minho opt to just watch over Jisung for the night. Your best friend puckers his lips in Minho's direction and blowing kisses, he says, "I love you, Minho."

"Changbin wouldn't like you saying that to another man though," you scoff and Jisung flips you the middle finger before downing one more and standing up. The thunder rattles the three of you exactly then and you grip the table, face turning pale instantly. Minho's attention darts to you quickly in concern.

"You okay?" You hum in response, unconvincingly though to Minho whose gaze lingers on you in worry for just a while more. That is, till Jisung rips it away by dramatically placing the back of his hand on his forehead and playing the damsel in distress as he gasps so loudly, staring at the big window.

"It's raining heavily," he sighs and you shudder, afraid of another thunderstorm as you grip tightly on the side of the table.

"So?" Minho asks, both eyebrows raised at the man before him, looking at the two of you with doe eyes.

"I'm staying over, thanks," he rushes and runs to your bedroom, quickly shutting the door and latching it and you and Minho stare at each other. As soon as the realisation of what could happen dawns over you, you rush to your closed bedroom, fists banging against the wooden door.

"Yah, Han Jisung," you turn to look at Minho who watches you in amusement. "Open the fucking door."

"No. I don't want to go back home in the rain. You and Minho can share the bed. I am never opening the door. Good night."

"What the fuck? Yah, Sungie, stop acting like a child. Open the door now." You hear no response. "Sungie? Answer me. Open the door please." Minho walks over to you, and tries knocking too, in vain however because Jisung has no plans to open the door.

You look at Minho, the man slightly towering you as he stands by your side and you gasp. You had to share the bed with the same man you just realised you could, perhaps, have developed feelings for?

"Fuck."

Jisung: it finally seems to be working, binnie! luck's on my side this time. Changbin: oh baby. just please don't be disappointed if it doesn't work out this time either. Jisung: i won't be because it's definitely going to work out. eeeee! i'm so excited!

Another thunderstorm ripples through the air.

Your heart beats quicker in anxiety, eyes squeezing shut as you grip tightly on the pillow, a light whimper leaving your lips. You feel the mattress shuffling underneath you and in the next minute, your ears are covered by Minho's hands. You stiffen as he edges closer to you, his chin resting on your shoulder as his palm pressed against your pinna, covering your ear completely to protect you from the loud sounds of the thunder.

"Minho, what—"

His hand on your right ear slightly shifts to the side as he bends forward to whisper into your ear, to amplify the sounds enough as a way to distract you.

"You never ever told me you were scared of thunderstorms."

Lee Minho is way too close to you to think straight. You feel his body pressed against your back, heat radiating from him to you through your oversized hoodie. His breath is harsh against your skin as he leans close to whisper into your ear. And all this in an attempt to forget the thunderstorm.

So far, it's working like magic.

Your voice is almost small when you inform him, "We never happened to be in the same place during one," and Minho swears to God, he could lose it completely. All the self control to not confess and take you there is so ready to be shoved out of the window that all he can do is try and focus on worrying about your fears.

"I'll protect you," he mumbles so softly that you turn around to look at him. His eyes are bright in the soft lights in his room and as he lies by your side, so close that you can hear his heart that beats faster and his breath that is shallow, your lips part and you watch him.

You are fully justified for falling in love with this man.

A man that tells you he'd protect you from your fears, god alone knows how, but the fact that they don't seem like empty words. A man that you know like the back of your hand and the same man that seems to have protected you all throughout your life, even if you have done the same. It was inevitable. Falling for Lee Minho is inevitable.

And that's why you kiss him. Because you're in love with him so badly that all you can zero in is him, him, him.

Your lips press against his, so softly for a split second. As if you are unsure. As if you know you could be ruining years of friendship over something the two of you could consider a mistake.

You kiss him and suddenly it's the only thing that matters to you right now. Him, him, him. Your lips are slow and soft against him. It is almost as if you are reminding yourself that there has been nothing more morbidly right than this. To fall in love with your best friend. Minho's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss and with Minho so stiff by your side, you panic, and ramble. "I'm sorry. I should have thought it could be unrequited. I like you and I should have asked—”

Minho crashes his lips on yours, so quickly that it takes your breath away and cuts your sentence in half, but you don't care. He pulls you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your pink ones. You let out a small gasp as you deepen the kiss, running your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you. It is just you and him in this small room. Just you and him in focus. You can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute. That it has always been beating for you.

Minho presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth, tongue chasing after yours. Minho kisses you like he has finally achieved the greatest thing ever and he never wants to let it go. Minho kisses like he loves you and you feel it. You feel every ounce of it.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. Playing with the ends of his roots, you suck on his lower lips before he pulls away and finally tells you, "I've always been in love with you, Y/N. Always."

Kissing you again, his thumb digs into the skin by your jaw as he delves deeper, as if he never wants to let you go. The air in the room heats up when your hand moves under his shirt, feeling his muscles under your skin and you moan against his lips. Minho lets go of your lips only to kiss the side of it and then your cheeks and then your jugular before he is littering kisses all over your neck. You moan explicitly, gripping on him and slightly grinding on his thigh. You feel your core heating up, arousal sticking to your panties and all you can think is,

“I want you.”

Minho swears to God that he has always loved confident women but when you shattered right before him and built your confidence right back up — that is the hottest thing he swears he has seen. That, and the fact that you had always been hot before his eyes.

“Really?” Minho lifts himself up and hovers on top of you.

“Really,” you decide to respond before you cup his face and pull his face closer to yours. You don't pull him in for a kiss just yet. Your eyes zero on him, trying to cancel out the loud thunderstorms in the background and just focus on the man before you that you love, that you've been in love unknowingly for a while.

You just hold his face and learn. You try to remember every single detail of his face that you never focussed on before.

You realise over again that his eyes are your favourite thing. They are black as charcoal and yet still shimmer as if stars are trapped and enclosed beneath them. And when he narrows them to look at you with a daze, your heart throbs and you gulp. They make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.

You know his skin is soft as you touch. As creamy and velvety as they are, you can't stop touching him.

His mouth is a pretty shade of coral, plump and pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. You wonder how you haven't driven yourself to kiss him yet. All these years.

Everything about his face is soft and delicate, that is till he turns a little to the side and angles it perfectly, his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the distinct manly cut that makes your mouth dry and your heart beat faster.

“You are perfect,” you gulp, your eyes back on him and Minho smiles widely. His warm breath caresses your face and his forehead is pressed against yours immediately.

“You know what else is perfect, baby?”

“No,” your voice is airy, even though you already know what he is going to say. You know it and yet the thought causes your heart to skip a bit, and flutter a lot in your chest.

“You and everything you have to offer. You are not average. You are one of the most perfect women I've seen in my whole life, Y/N,” he says. As soon as the words spill from his mouth, your lips are on his, claiming his mouth, the same ones that whispered into your ear that there is nothing to be afraid when he's right there by your side.

He gasps loudly as your hands leave his face and move to his hair to pull him down towards you — you need him so close to you. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a lot forward and gladly welcome the intrusion of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses and those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs.

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.

“Minho,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing. You fear getting too addicted to this human – more than you already are – to a point where you need to be attached to him by the hip, to never let go of him.

Minho's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin.

His hand moves from your clothed arse to under your hoodie, hand pressed against your back as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and god, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smiles widely and you think it's cute. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.

You nod your head to signal yes. You hold your breath and your eyes flutter shut, awaiting him and his warmth.

Minho's kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, that you want to pull him in and suck the life out of him and yet, at the same time, it is precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.

It makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own.

Your heart is beating quicker than ever in your chest, against your ribs, and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but to heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

Minho is something you desperately want to hold onto in your life. He knows your secrets, your everything. He knows what you like and how you like it. He seems to know everything and the thought of letting him go aches your heart and constraints your throat with a sob you wouldn't dare to let out. You want him to be completely yours.

And these thoughts turn you desperate. They force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own. To make him yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over yours, arching further into him. You groan into his mouth and his grip on your back tightens instantly.

“I want you so much, Minho,” you whimper against him after your lips part from his. You lick your lips and gaze at him with your partially closed eyes. “So fucking much.”

“Then, have me. Take me,” Minho purrs against your exposed skin. In a minute, he pulls the oversized hoodie over you, leaving you in just your undergarments as he discards it to the side. His mouth moves over the skin above your breasts and his hand traces the bra you are wearing. He gazes at it and mumbles before latching his mouth back on your skin, “You are so fucking beautiful. Always have been.”

You gleam in pride and your body arches at the contact of his mouth on your skin. Your hands are on the side of his face as you pull him away.

“Can I?”

“Have me? Yes. Completely,” he smiles. He wonders if you are confident. That's all that he hopes when you look at him so unsure and so doubtingly.

You wet your lips again quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air. Your hands immediately rush to his top, roughly pushing it above. Minho helps you out and pulls it completely away. You are blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his glowing skin. You want to touch, feel, have a complete experience. You want Minho to remind you of everything you are missing out on.

Your lips attack his neck in a hurry, all rough and passionate on his tender, soft skin, blooming red roses that turn purple against it. You repeat your actions till he’s softly moaning out your name, almost purring them out that you feel yourself becoming slicker. His hands on your back pull you closer and into him so that you won’t stop tainting his flesh and slowly, his soul, in the best ways possible.

Minho whines and sighs and grunts for you. He doesn't hold himself back as his lips leave appreciation for who you are. He closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane.

You know you should not but you can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. You desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him, but you know it would most probably be the other way round. Minho allows you to take control occasionally but you know he wants the lead. He wants to be the one to break you apart and pull you back together.

He pulls back from you, his hands leaving your back and resting on either of your sides. Minho's dark hair brushes over his crescent lidded eyes and nearly shields the hungry, desperate gaze of them. His hand plays with the strap of your panties as his gaze flickers between affection and lust. He cocks his head to the side before asking, “You do want this, right?”

You nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would resume.

“I need to hear you say it out loud, baby,” he firmly says and you gulp.

“Yes, yes. Minho, fuck, I want this. I need this,” you whine, your eyes glassy, as you grip his forearm to lift yourself up and grate and move against the evident bulge on his jeans.

Minho merely needs that verbal confirmation. He pulls away your panties, resting on your hips and you groan. Still hovering above you and his hands over your pubic mound, his fingers trail lower and you tug at your lower lip in anticipation. Easily, he finds your clit, and begins to rub in slow, languid, lazy motion, up and down, waiting for the moan he so loves to hear from you to spill from your mouth. He grins when he hears those little whimpers and you feel your legs lose mobility from the pleasure he brings you with just a flick of his finger.

Your back slightly arches off the soft mattress upon the bed when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light. Your cheeks taint pink in embarrassment.

“Fuck,” Minho moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck your juices from it. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac ever known and your lips part at this sight. Lee Minho looks irresistible and you want him, completely.

“God,” he groans. Minho slides himself down your body until he’s in level with your pussy. His eyes gazed at it in sheer adoration and your hand slapped against your mouth. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping, baby girl.”

You wail as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name out loud. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you. This has been what you had been craving for so long. The ability of this man to cloud your thoughts and set your body on fire makes you yearn for him even more.

“Minho,” you cry out, whimpering underneath him. “Fingers. I need you. Please, Minho.”

You gasp, your voice airy, when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers dig at his shoulders between your thighs. “Minho, I want you. I just really want you. I need to feel you. Please.”

He drags his finger out of you before you clutch onto him, feeling the need to be overwhelmed. He presses his thumb on your clit and a whimper leaves your mouth.

“Minho.” And he slides his digit in again almost as if on cue. He pumps his finger in and out of you as his thumb harshly rubs circles on your clit. Your hand leaves your mouth and grabs your hair as the other digs further into his shoulder.

His mouth leaves hot air against the skin covering your acetabulum and you shudder. His lips graze from there till your thigh before biting on them, sucking them deliriously and leaving you as a whimpering mess.

“Minho, fuck!” You scream, your fingers grabbing your hair to hold control of your body.

“That's it, baby,” he says against the skin of your thighs. “How I've wanted those beautiful lips to scream out my name from when I've felt them.”

Minho adds another finger and your eyes are screwed shut as he curls them within you and you gasp at the feeling of being widened. You are elated and you feel your arousal leaking down your thighs. He rubs your inside and your clitoris faster and you push your hips towards him, moving with his pace. Minho is also leaving beautiful purple marks in a trail on your thigh and you gape in awe.

You find it all too much. Your emotions are all over the place and your hormones rise up. The movement of his fingers inside you and around your clit, his lips attacking your erogenous spots, kissing, biting and licking short stripes on them. It finally gets to you and you scream his name out in pleasure. Your first orgasm comes crashing down upon you, blinding you. You release all over his fingers and Minho helps you ride out your high as he drags his finger repeatedly but this time, slower than what had been.

Your head lifts up and hits the pillow slightly as it tilts away. Minho moves upwards, hovering over your face and smiles. You smile back. You are so happy and you do not know how to put it into words.

“Minho?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks?”

“For what?” He looks at you quizzically.

“That was my first orgasm in months now that wasn't brought about by my own fingers,” you smile wearily and Minho leans forwards and kisses your forehead.

"Should have come to me," he laughs.

"Didn't know if I'd be ruining our friendship."

"Pfft," he scoffs, before kissing you again, his lips gliding against yours and piecing in as if they were always meant to be against yours. "I've been in love with you forever."

"Took me a while to know my own feelings," you mumbles. “Also,” you continue, hoping he listens to your request. “Can I . . . ride you?”

Minho is stunned. There are so many things about you that stuns him and maybe it's the way you try to take control that make you look so much hotter before his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you plead. “If that is not a bother to you.”

“Why would it? Your wish is my command, but only for this night. Next time, my love, we do this my way,” he teases and winks and your core throbs at his words.

Minho pulls himself away from your body, pulling his shirt over his head and his denim down and away. As he flings his clothes aside and relaxes against the mattress, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum. You sit up beside the space Minho has taken over and watch him and his cock deliriously and lustfully.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Minho, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Minho notices.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and worry. He pushes back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “You're doing wonderful, babygirl. You are finally all mine. What a pretty girl and all to myself now."

You nod, biting down on your lower lip, and tugging at it harshly, cheeks heating up at his words, arousal gushing out as you look down before aligning with his cock. You want this. You needed this release.

As your folds, dripping with thick, sticky arousal, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you moaning out his name, gasping and panting for air, “Fuck, Minho.”

You rock your hips into him, trying this as you picture it to be, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick length. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord.

As much as Minho wants to give you complete power over this, it isn't like him and he wishes he could be better. Minho takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Minho,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and you feel sad.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Minho, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. You are glad he is helping you out because you know you could not have done it on your own after having just ridden out your high.

The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the second time that night. Minho’s finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge. Minho knows how to make a woman putty in his hands and you are a living witness of this.

“Are you going to come?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good, Minho.” You lean forward and the motion causes Minho to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Minho, fuck. Oh fuck, you feel so good.”

“Then, come.”

Minho moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Babygirl, oh fuck. Come all over my cock.”

Minho’s other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find their place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and his eyes flicker a mischief that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Minho’s cock tightly.

Minho learns that your dirty liking for choking is incredibly hot. Seeing you like this is what he knows would get him to come when you are not around. Your fucked out expression as you gasp for air makes Minho plunge into you harder and you choke harder.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Minho's waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him.

“Hey,” you say and smile.

Minho kisses your forehead and then, the peak of your nose, and finally, kisses your lips, softly. It isn't lustful or anything. Just plain passion seeping from him to you. You feel his admiration and an emotion you fear to mistake for love. He pulls away and smiles, “Hey, beautiful.”

He comes closer and licks the side of your neck, where he had wrapped his fingers out. The one fantasy that you are so in love with. He peppers soft kisses around it and mumbles an apology.

“No,” you quickly stop him. “That was everything. I— I really like you." Pausing, the thought crashes your head, post your high and you mumble, "Fuck, I fell in love with my best friend."

You nuzzle into his chest after he pulls back, your arms wrapping around his body as you calm yourself. Minho chuckles into your ear, "Yes, yes. You clearly did. What do we do now?"

"Take responsibility." You mumble as you slowly find yourself feeling sleepy. Your eyes are slowly drooping and your voice lowers in tone, words drifting away almost, “You better take responsibility for my feelings and take care of me.”

“It'd truly be my honour,” Minho mumbles, lifting you slowly to push his one arm beneath your neck. He uses the other hand to push your hair away from your face. Kissing your forehead, lips lingering for a while, he smiles to himself, laughing slightly as he asks you, "Was the schlong good?”

You laugh softly, snuggling into his chest, fist against it as you try to fall asleep, thunderstorms long forgotten. Kissing his chest, you giggle, "Best ever schlong I have ever had, baby. All mine to keep now."

Jisung: can you pick me up? Changbin: this late? Jisung: i just wanted them to confess. not fuck like bunnies. useless fact i learnt today: they are both loud in bed. Changbin: i'm laughing off the bed literally!!! also!!! Jisung: yeah? Changbin: and they were roommates! Jisung: god, they were roommates. 🙄❤️

#stray kids smut #minho smut #lee know smut #skz smut #lee minho smut #minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #minho imagines #minho scenarios #lee know scenarios #kpop smut #stray kids imagines #writings.rue

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hornime · 4 years

Text

home workout | bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

“i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

warnings: 18+, sub!bokuto, jealous!reader (i mean who wouldn’t be when bokuto, your goddamn boyfriend, is perceived by other people the fuck), also lowkey possessive!reader, lotsa licking and sucking, nipple play, some praise (from reader) and some begging, brief mention of dacryphilia, kinda soft at the end

w/c: 1.5k sheesh

a/n: bokuto brainrot has me in literal tears. him being completely clueless to people flirting w him cus he doesn’t recognize romance from anyone but you has me so soft. i luv this man w my whole heart !!!!! ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THE BAKUGO FIC I JUST ABOUT SHIT MY PANTS WOOWWOWO

you weren’t an idiot. you knew that your boyfriend was attractive in literally every aspect of the word. he was sweet, patient, and kind, and what he lacked in academic smarts was made up tenfold in his emotional maturity and ability to read people. big and beefy, bokuto was all yours and all you wanted to stay trapped within his arms forever. unfortunately, to maintain the figure you adored so much and stay in shape for the volleyball season, he had to leave the four walls of your shared bedroom far more than you liked, having a daily obligation to spend a few hours at the gym.

once again, you weren’t an idiot. the few times that your work schedule and his training schedule aligned, you’d been able to work out together. and despite your knowledge of just how good-looking bokuto was and the fact that other people could perceive him (much to your chagrin) you were shocked at just how much people shamelessly flirted with him.

cute girls with matching leggings and sports bras practically clung to his biceps, gushing about how strong he was and how he could probably pick them up with just one hand. their incessant giggling, mesmerizing hair twirling, and teasing touches pissed you off to no end, and you’d tug your boyfriend away before their breasts got too close to him for your liking.

something else you noticed was that, no matter how blatantly obvious the girls seemed to be, the guys were somehow worse, flirting through terms you couldn’t even understand. they compared deadlift weights, bicep curls, hip thrusts; you gritted your teeth thinking about whether they’d ever compared cock sizes in the locker room—you wouldn’t put it past those thirsty gym rats. sneaky bastards.

and bokuto, of course, was oblivious to it all. how could you blame him—he was so used to being adored! you knew that, to him, all of their praises paled in comparison to yours, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous. he was all yours—should be all yours—and you hated sharing him with the world.

you woke up saturday morning with a ringing in your ears, hand smacking the nightstand trying to turn off that god-awful alarm noise, bleary eyes barely able to focus on the text notification from your boyfriend.

[5:33 AM] kou: gm babe!!!! i didnt wanna wake u up cus u looked so peaceful! im heading to the gym rn. text me when ur up! love uu

[5:34 AM] kou: should be home around 9!! gym bud wants to show me something so i might be a little late for breakfast.

just to reiterate, you weren’t an idiot. for all the annoying flirting you noticed when you were with bokuto, there was no doubt in your mind that there must be a lot more when he was at the gym alone, which, unluckily for you, was most of the time since he was a freakin’ pro athlete and all.

you couldn’t prevent the pool of envy from swirling in your gut. gym bud? are you serious? who could that be? the girl with the arm tat or the dude with the dreads? no, maybe its that yoga instructor with the ass—

you shook your head, clearing your brain. you’d be here for hours if you went through everyone at that stupid gym that had ever shown interest in bokuto. the clock read 9:53 AM and the green flame in your body only burned brighter. just as you were about to call him and ask where he was, the front door slammed open.

“babe! i’m home!”

you silently put your phone down, teeth still clenching in jealousy. for some reason, hearing his voice only exacerbated the tension in your shoulders. you needed him. now.

“babe?” his voice creeped closer as he tread through the hallway towards the room. “you up?”

you peeked your head out of the doorframe, cheery voice masking your devilish intentions, “kou!"

his eyes brightened as he made eye contact with you and flashed his trademark smile. “hey! what’s u-” he took in the mischievous glint in your eyes “-p?”

you grabbed his burly forearm, yanking him behind you and walking towards him, forcing him to stumble and fall back on the bed. “wait! i’m all gross and sweaty,” he said, “gym showers were broke-”

“i don’t care. take off your shirt.”

“wow, someone’s eager. missed me that much?”

“watch it,” you glared. “i’m not in the mood, kou.”

he gulped at the dominance radiating from your voice, scrambling to take off the t-shirt that stretched between his pecs perfectly. with the fabric off and throw haphazardly to the side, he looked to you expectantly, the epitome of innocence.

your eyes wandered over his sculpted chest, the remnants of a soft sheen of sweat from his workout making it shine in the sunlight pouring through the blinds. your heart stuttered in your chest—he looked like an angel. coupled with the way with his bottom lip was tucked under his front teeth and the wide, anticipating look in his eyes, fuck. you almost smiled how blessed you felt in that moment, to see him in such a raw, alluring position, before a jarring thought caused your lips to twitch back into a frown.

everyone else can see him, too.

your eyes hardened. maybe they can see him all big and strong, you thought, but they’ll never get to see him like this: submissive.

and so fucking sensitive.

within an instant, your lips were latched on the soft spot above his collarbone, causing him to whimper in pleasure. you continued to travel along his throat, slowly working your way to the other side of his neck and crossing back to nibble at his adam’s apple.

you unexpectedly pulled away, drawing a short whine from him, before repositioning yourself so that you were straddling his outstretched legs. slowly, starting from the hem of his shorts, you dragged your tongue between the ridges of his abs, moving up towards his pecs, tasting the saltiness of his sweat and feeling the muscles tense underneath.

“fuck,” he groaned. as your lips puckered around one of his peaked nipples, he uncontrollably jerked his hips up, inadvertently rubbing his sensitive cock between your legs. overwhelmed by the sensation, he moaned. “fuck.”

“you taste good,” you muttered, grazing your teeth over his other nipple. “just wanna taste you all the time. you’d let me, right?”

thoughts muddled by just how good everything felt, he nodded mindlessly. “i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

you paused. raising your head from his chest, you made eye contact with him, so intense he almost closed his eyes to shield himself from the blaze burning in your dilated pupils. “why’d you stop,” he begged, “i want more. feels so good and i wan’ mor-”

“say it again,” you demanded. “tell me that you’re mine.”

his eyes, glossed over and prickled with tears precariously close to falling, squeezed tightly as he spoke, unable to control the growing volume of his voice. “’m all yours. always. all yo- yours.” he gasped as you resumed your movements, pinching the sensitive skin around his v-line while fervently leaving sloppy kisses on his chest.

“good boy.”

he keened at your praise. another light touch to his cock combined with the passage of your mouth had him trembling, and his breath hitched as he cried out in warning, tears now flowing freely over his flushed cheeks. “m’ gonna cum, ‘m gonna, gonna cum.”

“yeah?” you whispered, lips brushing against his strained abs. “go ahead then.”

“fuck!” he whined, blabbering as you sat back and watched in awe of the beauty before you, a big strong man like him reduced to nothing more than a moaning mess. “fuck, fuck—you always make me feel so, s-so go-od, fuck i love you.”

with soaked shorts and an exhausted sigh, he dropped his head back onto the plush comforter of the bed. you flattened your palms on his quivering body, reeling from the aftershocks of his orgasm. he panted, running his fingers through your hair before nudging your face to look at him, staring at you with an expression of pure bliss and adoration. he studied you for a bit before declaring with a soft smile, “you’re the best. so fuckin’ happy that i’m yours.”

driven by affection, he sat up and reached his arms around your waist, snuggling his chin over your shoulder and mashing your chests, yours clothed and his naked, together. “kou wait!” you shrieked. “you’re all sweaty again! it’s gross!”

he chuckled. as if you hadn’t been spoiling him by licking it up just a few minutes ago. “you’re right. i‘m probably sweating more now than i was after my workout.”

at that, your ears perked up. “well maybe you should do home workouts more often then,” you teased.

“you’re right,” he repeated with a grin, “maybe i should.” if it meant more mornings like these, he’d forego the gym in a heartbeat.

that night, he canceled his gym membership. after all, he reasoned, it’s offseason anyway.

#i jus wanna lick him clean #sue me #kinky.inky #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #koutarou x reader #bokuto

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btsrunmylife · 3 years

Text

21. Turn of Events

summary: You and Yoongi have never exactly gotten along. Truthfully, this wouldn’t be such an issue if you didn’t work together. But there have been far too many times when his sarcastic comments have rubbed you the wrong way.

His most recent shenanigan might just be the icing on the cake, especially because you know absolutely nothing about it until it’s too late. What’s worse is he’s gotten his friend involved, a friend you happen to get along with rather well — maybe too well.

Yoongi’s intentions really weren’t to drive you away. His curiosity merely got the best of him. But now…he’s woven an intricate mess he can’t get out of. And he can’t help but wonder, will this be the thing that finally pushes you over the edge?

pairing: yoongi x f!reader, jimin x f!reader

rating: pg13

genre: social media au, comedy, romance, fluff, slight angst?

chapter word count: 1.8k, plus social media posts at the beginning

chapter warnings: some swearing, drinking (of age), typical banter between Namjoon and Mayhem

permanent tag list (open): @yoongiofmine @xianav @lilacdreams-00 @emmmui @vantxx95 @cursedblood707 @hqtetsurou @geauxlsu79 @lyra0cassiopeia @halesandy @lunaoceanchild @annoyingtimemachinee @babycoffeefire

series tag list (open): @darlinggod-sweetvillain @namsope32 @90s-belladonna @moon-write @electricari @secretlycrazyhummingbird @ysljoon @ams02 @somelazysundays @deleteidentity

back | masterlist

The night you go to the club, it’s cold outside, but you and Nabi ignore it in favor of looking nice. Not for Jimin, you clarify to yourself as you cast one last look in the side mirror of Seokjin’s car. This is all for you. The dress you’re wearing fits your body type just right, complimenting you in ways that make you feel a bit invincible. Your hair is surprisingly behaving tonight and your makeup is done to your liking, all of which combined make adrenaline fizzle in your chest.

Because, okay, it’s not for Jimin. It’s definitely for you. It’s for your confidence, for the good mood it puts you in, but you’re also kind of looking forward to seeing Jimin’s reaction to you dressed up after what little you’d been able to do for your date.

Which…you hadn’t exactly been truthful about to your friends. Sure, you’d told them it’d gone okay, that Jimin had been the perfect gentleman and that the two of you had clicked. It wasn’t a lie, but you hadn’t told them about the doubts you’d had. About the weird little red flags that had put you on edge.

You hadn’t mentioned them because you’re doing your best to ignore them, to forget they even exist.

For the most part, it’s working.

At least, for now. As long as you don’t think about it too hard.

“Yes, yes, you look fine, can we go in now?” Namjoon complains, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

You glare at him over your shoulder, not missing the fact he thinks you look fine while Nabi looks beautiful. You’re not jealous, just highly amused by the fact Nabi really hasn’t caught onto his feelings yet. Namjoon isn’t exactly subtle. The office actually has a running pool about when they’ll finally stop being idiots and make it official.

You doubt it’ll ever happen. Not unless Nabi makes the first move.

In your opinion, Namjoon is a little spineless.

In his opinion, you’re annoying as hell.

Somehow, it’s still a beautiful friendship.

Seokjin lets out a loud sigh, slinging an arm around the younger man’s shoulders and shaking his head. “Ah, Joonie, you can’t rush beauty. Don’t worry, you’ll learn someday.”

You snort and Namjoon rolls his eyes.

“Normally I wouldn’t care if Mayhem takes forever – which, she always does, by the way, – but it’s cold as fuck out here,” he complains. “Can we please go inside?”

“Well, since you said please,” you coo, pinching his cheek.

He scowls and swats your hand away.

Nabi giggles beside you, linking her arm through yours and tugging you along. “Come on, you’ve got a hot guy waiting for you inside.”

“But I’m right here?” Seokjin jokes as you make your way to the door.

There’s a short line outside, but it’s still early enough that it’s not too outrageous. You’re thankful because, as much as it’s expected of you to be late for everything, you’d really rather not be late for more plans with Jimin. You wouldn’t want him to get the wrong impression.

Unless the impression he gets is that you’re just notoriously late for everything…then it’d actually be correct.

When you finally make it inside, it’s to a cacophony of sound. Although the DJ set hasn’t begun yet, music still thumps from the speakers. But, louder than even the music, are the men sitting at a table near the bar. Jimin and his friends, you realize, when one of them slaps him on the shoulder and nods in your direction.

When Jimin turns around, the smile he gives you is blinding and, when matched with the once-over he gives you, it makes something like butterflies flutter in your stomach. He looks good, in an outfit that hugs him in all the right places, and with the glow of alcohol already coloring his cheeks.

“Mayhem!” he yells over the swell of music, people that have just started trickling into the club glancing between you in curiosity.

You chuckle as you make your way over, easily accepting the hug he pulls you into. “Hey, starting without us?”

You eye the drinks in their hands pointedly.

“We definitely can’t have that,” one of them grins, shaking the hair from his face. The silver lining his ears shimmers in the faint light, eyes twinkling just as brightly as he gets to his feet and starts dragging over some chairs. “Jimin-ssi, go order them a round while Taehyung and I get the table situated.”

Jimin grumbles, but moves to do as he’s told.

You grab his arm before he can get too far and are met with his wide eyes as he turns to look at you. You offer him a small smile. “I’ll come help you.”

His grin returns and, although you’re not looking in their direction, you think you see his friend Taehyung nudge the other with a broad grin. But whether it’s about your offer or the massive heart-eyes the first one is sporting when he catches sight of Nabi, you can’t be sure.

You get all of a second to side-eye Namjoon’s tense profile before you’re being pulled toward the bar.

“So, which one of your friends is celebrating the promotion?” you ask as you step up to the bar to patiently wait your turn. It’s a bit strange to see someone other than Jimin behind it, but the woman seems just as at ease and charismatic.

“Ah, that would be Jungkook,” he nods back in your friends’ direction and clarifies, “The one with all the earrings.”

“So, the one making googly eyes at my friend,” you reiterate with a flick of your eyebrow.

Jimin smirks, tongue coming out to wet his lips as his eyes glint playfully. “He’d kill me if I said anything.”

You snort. “It’s not like he’s being subtle.”

The two of you observe them. Jungkook touches a finger to the bracelet on Nabi’s wrist and Nabi glances down with a soft giggle. Both of their cheeks have turned a pleasant shade of pink and you can’t help but smile. That is, until you see Namjoon’s clenched jaw.

“I guess you have a point,” Jimin finally relents, turning back to the bar with a smile when the bartender finally makes her way over to you.

The two of them joke about Jimin practically living here and how Jimin just can’t tear himself away from the place before he orders a round of beer for you and your friends. Jimin idly watches the bartender work, drumming his fingers on the countertop before peeking at you from the corner of his eye.

“So–”

“Jimin-ah! Uh, May...” a familiar voice interrupts and you glance up to see Yoongi has settled into a barstool to the left of Jimin. He eyes the two of you curiously, something unfamiliar swimming in his gaze for a moment before it’s gone. “Didn’t realize you’d be here tonight.”

Jimin hums, lifting an eyebrow Yoongi's way. “Celebrating Jungkook’s promotion.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes. “Didn’t know May knew Jungkook.”

You snort, a little annoyed they’re talking about you like you’re not even there. “I don’t.”

Jimin puts an arm around your shoulders with a small shrug, smirk twitching at his lips. “We had such a nice time on our date, I figured it’d be fun to invite her out tonight.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “I thought it was Jungkook’s idea.”

Jimin’s cheeks pink, but his grin widens. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t think it’d be fun.”

“Fair,” you shrug, and Yoongi looks between the two of you with a frown.

The bartender makes an appearance then, placing four beers down in front of the two of you and a glass of whiskey in front of Yoongi. Somehow, his drink of choice doesn’t surprise you.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” Yoongi mutters, noticing your stare and averting his gaze to the row of liquor behind the bar. He takes a slow sip of his drink. “Go have your fun.”

You frown, wondering at the tone of his voice, but not having time to think too much about it as Jimin grabs two of the glasses and nods toward the others. “You ready?”

Your eyes widen and you quickly nod, taking the two beers in hand and following behind him. Before you go, you cast one last glance Yoongi’s way, only to find him already watching you. You offer a small, awkward smile. “Have a good set tonight, Min.”

Fractionally, his eyes widen before he blinks in quick succession. He doesn’t respond, merely nods, looking a little stunned.

You don’t blame him, feeling a little stunned yourself as you turn to follow Jimin back to the table.

When you get there, you notice a clear shift in energy around the table. Instead of standing alone in front of Jungkook, Nabi is sitting beside him with Namjoon’s arm resting possessively over her shoulders. Namjoon, only taking a small part in the conversation, is beside her, glancing around the club as Nabi and Jungkook talk. Tae is sitting across from them, watching the three of them with narrowed eyes.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, glancing Seokjin’s way, only to have the man shrug at you with an amused grin. You stifle a laugh, handing him his beer and letting Jimin be the one to interrupt whatever that is to give Nabi and Namjoon theirs. He makes easy small talk with the three of them for a moment before he makes his way back to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he slips into the seat next to you. He offers you a bright smile.

You return it, feeling yourself grow warm beneath his attention, and Seokjin looks between the two of you before glancing at his phone. You don’t miss the way his gaze flits up toward the bar. The look on his face catches your attention and you glance back in that direction, only to see Yoongi’s cheeks flame as he quickly turns his attention back to his own phone.

You furrow your eyebrows, eyes moving between your friend and your coworker, an odd feeling stirring in your gut. After a moment, Seokjin clears his throat and shoves his phone in his pocket, offering you a wide smile.

“Who’s ready for shots?” he questions, taking a hearty gulp from his glass.

You raise an eyebrow. “You literally just got your beer two seconds ago.”

“Ah,” he hums, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “But there’s never a bad time for more alcohol.”

“There–” you pause, shaking your head. “--there really is. It’s called the time right before you get alcohol poisoning or get sick on my living room floor.”

He squawks. “That was one time!”

“One time too many,” you shake your head solemnly.

Jimin glances between the two of you, amusement coloring his irises. “I take it there’s more stories like that?”

You roll your eyes. “You have no idea.”

He wiggles in excitement next to you, grinning at Seokjin. “Have any about Mayhem?”

Seokjin’s grin grows impossibly wider. “Do I ever!”

You groan, turning to hide your face in Jimin’s shoulder, who lets out a tinkling laugh and holds you a little tighter, but doesn’t stop Seokjin from launching into one of the most embarrassing stories of your life.

You really should know by now…you can’t take your friends anywhere.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smau #bts social media au #bts x reader #bts au fic #park jimin x reader #min yoongi x reader #park jimin smau #min yoongi smau #park jimin fanfiction #min yoongi fanfic

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londonalozzy · 3 years

Text

Stop Pretending (TFATWS)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst

Summary: The reader thinks she's doing a stellar job of keeping her feelings for a certain soldier buried deep inside. Turns out, all it takes is an observant new friend to begin the unraveling of her most precious secret (Spoilers for TFATWS)

Masterlist

Word: Pretence

Definition: A way of acting that is intended to deceive people.

Example: Saying that he's just a friend when he's really the love of your life.

Your POV

Being caught in the midst of war is something that I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) know all too well. As a war vet, former shield agent, and now Avenger I'm used to being centered amongst conflict. When the fight begins within me though, a battle between what I want and what I think is right, how will I react? Will I listen to my heart, my head, or will the winner be chosen for me?

Delacroix, Louisiana.....

I love my sleep, always have, always will. It's not necessarily the comfort of the bed, the quiet or even the rest. It's the fact that I'm at peace when I sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, so anything that will put that off for as long as possible I savor.

I wish it were the same for a certain super soldier in my life. I look forward to going to bed, everything calms down then, and for most people it's the same. For Bucky however, it's when everything starts, the nightmares, the terrors, the seemingly unending darkness. If only I could take his pain away like he has with mine.

For the last few weeks, my life had, for want of a better word, been hectic. Hectic to say the least.

After the eventual defeat of Thanos and the loses we endured as a result, I thought naively that life might calm down a bit, that I'd have time to breathe, to live. How wrong I was.

It all began with John Walker being announced to the world as the new Captain America.

I was baking cookies with Morgan in the Stark family kitchen when it came over the radio. As that latest turn of events sunk in, my first thoughts were of Bucky, what that would do to him. Not even an hour later I had said my goodbyes and was on my way to help him get the shield back.

Since then even more had happened. We'd regrouped with Sam, busted Zemo out of prison which in turn ruffled the feathers of Ayo and the Dora Milaje. We came face to face with Morgenthou and the Flag Smashers, and finally witnessed the man who thought he could even compete with Steve, make himself judge, jury and most significantly executioner.

After that went around the world we knew we had to end it sooner rather than later. It couldn't get much worse than Captain America becoming a murderer. We got the shield back, which was a fight all in itself. Handed Zemo over to Ayo, to try and recompense for the distrust we'd instilled in the people who'd helped us so much. Then we travelled to stay with Sam and his family in Louisiana whilst we waited for Karli's next move.

This is where we found ourselves now, in the eye of it, the calm before the storm.

Waking up in the Wilson households guest room, I was greeted to the golden hue of the rising sun penetrating through the single glaze windows, and the melodic sounds of gulls on the hunt for their morning meal down by the docks.

Actually, no that's not right. What I could hear was most certainly not birds, and it was definitely not melodic. What were those boys doing?

Quickly and quietly I threw on the first clothes I could get my hands on and made my way downstairs towards the noise. What caught my attention when I discovered the source, was not the two youngest Wilson boys playing with our newly reacquired shield in the living room, but the super solider who was blissfully ignorant to it all, sleeping peacefully on the couch in front of them. I don't think I'd ever been so happy.

"Right you two, if you're determined to play Avengers all morning then I suggest you re-assemble in the back yard. You're gonna wake Bucky up," I whispered out in one breath, stepping between the boys, then placing my hands on their backs and tip toeing them towards the door.

"So what if we wake him up? It's gone 10am," Cass questioned in protest, pulling on his sneakers and jacket.

"Exactly! Which is why if you do as I say, I will make you the biggest plate of waffles for breakfast that you've ever seen."

The boys eyes lit up. "Can we have ice cream with it? Mum never lets us have ice cream for breakfast, and I'm sure there's a tub of Stark raving hazelnuts in the freezer," AJ clapped in muted excitement. "Oh, for God's sake.....Yes. You can have whatever you want if you get out of this house now and keep the noise down."

Once the boys were outside, I made my way over to the kitchen, stopping on the way to lean over my favourite senior citizen and make sure that he was still peaceful in his slumber. He'd never looked so relaxed, so at ease. It was a brand new Bucky I'd never seen before, a Bucky that had my heart pounding for him even more than it normally did. Not that he knew any of that.

Half an hour later and up to my elbows in waffle mix, I failed to notice my new friend and host Sarah making her way to my side at the counter, the huge smile on my face not going unnoticed. "What's got you grinning like the Cheshire cat, like I need to ask?"

"Bucky's sleeping. Isn't it amazing?" I spoke softly, bouncing up and down on my feet as I did so.

"And why is that?" She couldn't looked more confused if she tried.

"In all the years I've known him, I don't think I've ever woken up before he has. If his nightmares don't keep him awake all night, they normally have him up before the crack of dawn. I don't think I've ever seen him so still."

"Good answer," Sarah nodded in a hush, understanding why this meant so much to me, but not done yet with her morning interrogations, "Now on to my next question......"

"I'm already not liking the sound of this."

"Sleeping Beauty over there follows you around like a little puppy dog. He hangs on your every word, looks at you like you hung the stars or something. It's pretty obvious how crazy he is about you, so when are you gonna stop pretending that you're not head over heels in love with him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Wilson," I smiled forcefully, making out like the waffle maker deserved my attention way more than the conversation I was being made to have.

This was all Sam's doing, without a shadow of a doubt. He'd tried to have this conversation with me on multiple occasions and I shut him down every time. He obviously hadn't given up like I thought he did, and decided to draft in his sister. He is seriously gonna regret it when I find him.

"Sure you know what I'm talking about. Sam sees it, I don't even know you that well and I see it. The only reason Bucky doesn't, is because he doesn't believe he could ever be that lucky. You're a smitten kitten." These Wilson's are all as annoying as each other.

Knowing I wasn't getting out of this one, I grabbed Sarah by the arm and pulled her right into the corner of the room, trying my best to keep this convo as private as possible. "Look, I'm not pretending.....I'm ignoring. There's a difference."

"Care to explain what that difference is?" Sarah spoke softly, but with a sarcastic air.

Turning to look over my shoulder at the subject of our conversation, making sure he was still safely in the land of nod, I decided to just be honest. Sarah was much like her brother. Once she wanted to get to the bottom of something she wasn't about to give up.

"I love Bucky, more than I've ever loved anyone...and that terrifies me," the rawness of finally being honest making my voice shake, and tears come to my eyes. "Nat was like my sister, and she's dead. Tony was the closest I've ever gotten to having a Dad...and he's dead too. Then there's Steve, Vision, God knows where Wanda is....Everyone I love, either leaves or dies. If I admit my feelings for Buck then I face the risk of losing him too."

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now? He's not going to die because you love him (Y/N)."

Silent tears were falling now. I was revealing my deepest fears to a woman I'd only known a few days, and I'm not underplaying it when I say it was like a colossal weight off my chest, a release I didn't know I needed. "Believe me...I know, but I can't take that risk. I can't lose anyone else, especially not him."

"Let's just say for a second that you're right, that there is some higher power somewhere, set on destroying everyone you love. Do you really think ignoring your feelings is going to make them disappear?" I didn't know what to say to that. "Natasha and Stark died so that everyone could continue living, and (Y/N) you're not living as long as you keep this to yourself. They wouldn't want that for you."

"But what if I lose him?" I whispered with a choked sigh.

"Then at least he'll die knowing how you felt about him. After everything he's been through don't you think he deserves to know there's someone out there who loves him like you do?"

"Of course..."

Sarah's lips pulled upwards in a satisfied smirk, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, "then you owe it to yourself, and to him, to tell him the truth."

"Why do all you Wilson's have to be so clever?" I voiced in mock irritation, pushing her away from me and acting like I was annoyed she had gotten one up on me.

"I don't know," she thought aloud and with a cheeky grin, grabbing a plate to start piling on the long forgotten waffles, "I think it might be the sea air or something."

"Nah, it's in the genes," I chuckled quietly, grabbing my jacket and deciding it was time to get this conversation wrapped up. "I'll go find Sam and the boys for breakfast. Clear my head a little bit."

"You promise you're gonna tell him?" Sarah stopped me as I went to push the door open.

"I'll think about it."

3rd person POV

Once (Y/N) was out of ear shot, Sarah couldn't help but start jumping up and down in excitement, clapping her hands loudly as she did so. That went even better than she thought it would, and she was so proud of herself. Sarah Wilson could now add matchmaker to her resume.

"Coast is clear Barnes. You can open your eyes now."

(Y/N) had no idea what she had metaphorically walked into just minutes earlier, entering that very revealing conversation with her overly inquisitive host.

What drew Sarah to come down that morning was the sounds of both the front porch door opening and the smell of homemade waffles wafting up the stairs. As she entered the kitchen she was met with two sights. One being (Y/N), facing the counter and looking very smiley, the other being a wide awake super soldier who was just laying on the couch and staring at her, the sole object of his affection. Sarah could work with this.

Every time (Y/N) turned back in his direction, Bucky would close his eyes and pretend to be asleep again. He had never slept so soundly, so peacefully, thoughts of (Y/N) and his new friends filling his nightmare free dreams.

He'd initially woken to (Y/N) ushering the boys outside because she was afraid they would wake him up. He didn't want to disappoint her by proving her right. Besides, he liked just watching her move around the kitchen, completely unaware he was observing her the whole time. He had no idea about the conversation that was just about to happen.

After (Y/N) had left and Sarah had confirmed so, Bucky sat himself up, his body shaking with adrenaline and a look of complete shock fixed on his face. Had he definitely woken up, or had the whole thing been a part of his dream? Did (Y/N) seriously just admit that she was in love with him?

Bucky didn't know how to react, didn't know what to say as he looked up at a smug Sarah from his spot. All he'd ever wanted was for (Y/N) to feel the same way about him as he did about her. Now he knew that she did.

"You're welcome by the way."

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