#things i wrote in one sitting without editing or proofreading

[heartless-aro]

So much of the arophobia directed towards aromantic heterosexual men seems to be rooted in willful ignorance about what aromanticism actually is and how allosexual aromanticism differs from sexual objectification. Aromanticism is experiencing little to no romantic attraction towards others. That’s it. It isn’t the same as sending unsolicited dick picks to strangers or reducing women to their bodies. When a misogynistic man disregards a woman’s personhood in favor of treating her as a sexual object, it isn’t because he doesn’t experience romantic attraction to women. It’s because he chooses not to value women as people.

That has nothing to do with whether or not the man in question experiences romantic attraction. You can respect someone’s personhood without being romantically attracted to them. In fact, if you can’t respect a woman’s personhood without being attracted to her, then that is misogynistic. However, there is nothing inherently misogynistic about finding a woman sexy (even if you aren’t romantically interested in her!), nor is there anything inherently misogynistic about having casual sex with a woman who has enthusiastically consented to having casual sex. (Because, yes. Women CAN consent to having casual sex without being tricked into it via false promises of romance. Women are fully capable of deciding for themselves what they want to do with their bodies. Just because a woman does something with her body that makes you uncomfortable—like casual sex—doesn’t mean she’s a helpless victim who needs you to rescue her from her own autonomy.)

It also just seems so bizarre to me to claim that aromantic heterosexual men don’t face any stigma related to their aromanticism. Do you really think a man who has never had a crush on a woman won’t face any stigma for that? If a heterosexual man says that he has never gone on a date or has never had his first kiss, how do people react to that? Social norms for how men engage with romance are different from how women are expected to engage with romance; that doesn’t change the fact that men are still expected to engage with romance in certain normative ways.

Of course, aromanticism is not the same as just not going on dates or not kissing people. That is just one of many ways that aromanticism can look. But aromantic experiences are diverse, so it’s difficult to give a one-size-fits-all example of how aromantic heterosexual people are affected by arophobia. What I’m trying to express here is that aromantic people often don’t engage with romance in the way that society expects us to (if we engage with romance at all) and that, furthermore, men are often perceived differently when they do not conform to those expectations.

[aro-absol]

I'd like to watch or read Heartstopper, but since I'm romance-repulsed I don't know if it's something I'd like. When the romance's queer it's not that bad usually. So I have a request for you. Could you rate the level of romance and/or amatonormativity for me? It'd really help me

[MILD SPOILERS AHEAD]

There's LOTS of romance. Really, it's been a while since I saw a show with that many romantic scenes.

In short, I don't think it's for you, honestly.

I'm gonna put a list of the main ships and what happens with them (without names) under the cut:

mlm main ship: lots of romantic tension. Almost every time they are on screen. It's really a lot. They get together in the first season, and then navigate their relationship through the second season. As soon as they get together, they kiss and make out a lot.

mlm ship: A secret, toxic relationship in the first few episodes of season season one before the main ship gets together. They make out a few times but there's not that much about romance with this one (imo) because it is toxic. Also includes assault.

wlw ship: they are already together when the show starts. They are seen kissing every other episode and there are quite many romantic scenes with them, although the romantic tension isn't as strongly shown as with the main ship (imo).

mlw ship (with trans woman): A best friends to lovers situation. A few times, it's teased that they are possibly attracted in a romantic way to each other in season one. They get together in season two. And from then on, there's a lot of romantic tension with kissing. I'd say the romantic tension is similarly portrayed as with the main ship (which means very strongly) .

mlm ship: starts towards the end of season two. They low-key flirt in a few scenes (which wasn't as obvious as with the other ships imo) and kiss once.

I might have forgotten some. Please tell me if that's the case or if you think my summary is wrong (to those who have watched it, of course)

[304blur]

"he'd be the type of guy to.." haikyuu edition ♡

notes: NOT proofread, i wrote rhis at 1:50am just some thoughts, all will be written with timeskip versions of them in mind. fem reader just cause also i chnaged title cuz it sidnt make sense LMAO

warning/s: NONE

genre: fluff

characters: hinata shoyo, kozume kenma, kageyama tobio, miya atsumu

hinata would be the type of guy to let your dates go unplanned (in a good way!!!) ypu guys get to do whatever you'd like, unrestrained. if you wanna go to a goodwill/thrift store and find cool items, he'd happily go with you. he'll also secretly get you some things that you stared at for too long. like those sparkly pink cowboy boots, a music box where instead of a ballerina spinning it's a middle finger, and a bikini that barely covers anything. then after buying those, you'd go in your car, and he'd hide them under the car seat, but the bikini's straps stick out from under the seat, and you go "what the fuck is that??" so he has no choice but to bring out the bag filled with the stuff you looked like you wanted, and surprised you early. do you want to go to an indoor volleyball court? hinata rented one just for the two of you to play. but you never got to play anything, you two are busy running around, playing hide and seek in the surprisingly large building. yes, for other people, things don't always go to plan. but for you two? you make the best out of unplanned surprises.

kenma would be the type of guy to really REALLY appreciate all of your pitiful efforts to pay him back for what he buys you. he loves, LOVES spoiling you, spending his CEO money on you is his love language. even though he acts a little nonchalant about it, he always loves seeing the smile on your face when he bought you something you've wanted for so long. but, you'd feel bad about what he's spending on you, and the effort he puts into working so hard 24/7, and going with you to the mall and buying you everything. so, you decide to repay him in different ways! like baking cookies that took you all day to bake but they taste bitter, but he still eats all of them in one sitting. you made him lots of origami flowers, he'd have it displayed in his room, without a single speck of dust landing on the paper, he knows that you feel guilty about him spending lots on you so you do these things, he keeps telling you that what he's spending on you isn't going to make a dent in his bank account, but you still wouldn't listen. (he secretly freaks out if you do things for him)

kageyama would be the type of guy to learn about anything you're into, and he'd teach you about what he's into in return. if you like a certain singer/band, and you love to quote a line from a song/an inside joke, he's going to be curious about it, and eventually, he'll start quoting it too, (at the start, he usually had trouble deciding whether or not the situation you're in would apply, but he's quoting that lyric/inside joke like he knows that band/singer better than you do.) he taught you volleyball, do you love spiking? he'd set for you, and you'd drive that ball home. do you prefer setting? he's gonna make you attend setter bootcamp, on god he's gonna turn into your coach instead of your boyfriend. you like blocking? he'd make sure he'd get his hits past your blocks, and of course tell you all sorts of positions you put your hands in if you want to change the trajectory of the ball, or completely shut it out. do you like recieving? he'll throw different types of serves your way so you'll learn how to recieve all of them perfectly. or if you'd love serving more, he'd be teaching you how to get service aces and eventually be better at serving than his team (according to him). he may be a pro volleyball player, but that doesn't mean he won't make time for you.

atsumu would be the type of guy to relax and pamper yourselves in his free time. despite his loud and rowdy personality, you and mr japanese barry b benson with a kansai accent, oftentimes go to spas, and get massages, facial treatments, all that good stuff. then he'd take you out to a hot spring after a major tournament is over, the steaming water helping to relax, and also give his skin some benefits too! after all, he's a volleyball player that has the looks of an idol, he has a face and body he has to maintain. if you guys don't want to go out, he'll look up recipes for diy mud masks to apply to eachothers faces, maybe even bringing out a stash of facemasks from his skincare mini frige and watch a movie together while waiting for the facemask to dry out. you're pretty lucky to have a skincare boyfriend, since you have never had a single skin problem ever since you started dating him. if there's an event you two will be attending, he'll prioritize the both of you looking and feeling fresh. you two would be the couple with the clearest skin in the room.

[skazoo]

slow and blue and endless.

↳ kim taehyung x f!reader

someone stared at you through the window. you had always felt safe in your own home, shutting out the scary, real world. but a window is just glass, and glass… oh it breaks so, so easily.

length. 1.7k

genre. angst, yandere

warnings/tags. language, obsessive behavior, implied stalking, yandere themes, mind break, emotional manipulation, love bombing(?), mention of mental illnesses, physical violence, kinda gruesome allusion to murder, dark themes overall, minors advised to dni.

networks. none for this.

notes. [THIS IS A REPOST BC TUMBLR TAGS WON'T WORK AND I ALMOST CRIED<;3]

GAH these photos are so 80s serial killer making a creepy videotape that's gonna get edited in a true crime documentary coded...... i know you're seeing my vision, i KNOW it.... anywayyyyyy this is kinda not proofread, and i wrote it while i was supposed to be studying for my exams a while back!! because when am i inspired if not when i shouldn't be?? i hope you like it and i swear something is almost ready for me to publish please wait a little longer (for my engenes and atiny besties)

⚠️ it goes without saying that i in no way condone any obsessive/stalking/creepy/violent behavior and despite this being "x reader" i'm not in any way romanticizing anything i'm writing. also this, as you all know, is fiction and names are merely a narrating mean. ⚠️

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

in a way you’ve always loved him. he knows. you don’t even have to say it out loud for him to be happy. 

but sometimes it feels like you take him for granted. sometimes you make him really, really angry and that, he can’t let pass. and it's not for his sake but for yours. always everything for you. he has to make you understand that there are things you can’t do if you want to stay safe from the outside world. safe from him, sometimes.

running away is one of those ugly, wretched things you know well he hates, and he slams you against the wall and drags you back through the front door into the house by your hair, he bashes your head on the kitchen counter, near the fire of the stove he’s been preparing lunch with to make you understand a concept you're apparently too dumb to grasp.

“what the fuck did i tell you about running, uh?” seething with undiluted rage .

“i just wanted to go outside, tae. i swear!”

“i said what the fuck did i tell you about running!? do you understand how much it would hurt me to see you go?!” his voice booms inside the walls of your head, an endless echo that makes bitter tears gather at the back of your eyes and spill over.

your face is burning. tongues of fire lick at your cheeks, a scorching caress that reminds you of taehyung's. his palm always leaves a brand behind, reminding him and yourself that he’s there. 

your hands scramble for his in a miserable attempt to lessen his hold. “i’m sorry, tae! so sorry, please! please!”

his closed fist in your hair pushes your head closer to the heat. “i’ll fucking kill you if i have to, you know that right–” it’s not a question, merely a promise, but you nod anyway, frantically, desperately– “they’ll never stop finding your body, baby. do you understand?” he screams and shakes you with his hands tight in your hair when you only cry in response.

“i said,” leaning in, mouth brushing over your ear. chills go down your back as his voice turns sickeningly mellow as if he’s whispering sweet nothings instead of threats, “do you understand?”

“yes! yes! god, yes i understand! tae, i’m so sorry! it’s all my fault! it’s all my fault!”

your mindless babbles seem to humor him and he moves your head at a safer distance. “and why is that?”

“ ‘twas my fault! i put myself in danger if i run. tae, please! i’m so sorry!” 

and you cry and cry and cry until you have nothing to give. until there’s only emptiness in your head that’s resting on his shoulder. until his shushes really feel reassuring. until he sits you down at the table to eat the lunch he prepared, the one that was so close to killing you. you nibble on it, too weak to really even taste the flavors.

he breaks the empty silence between you with a question. you startle at the sound of his voice and force your heavy eyes to focus on him.

“aren't you curious? about why i chose you?”

“no.”

he scrunches his eyebrows and regards you with a slightly displeased look that has you shrinking back on your chair. 

“but i want to tell you…” he whines.

you don’t say anything about his antics. despite him behaving like a child you’re terrified of what his reaction would be if you actually treated him like one, so you press your lips together and wait. 

“i like people that like me.” and it’s so simple how he says it. obvious, even.

“but why do you think i like you?” quietly, meekly.

he seems to like the question, his boxy smile one full of teeth that in other circumstances you would have found endearing. now it only makes him look like a predator, an animal, drool dribbling down his fangs, jaw ready to snap close around your neck if —and ultimately, when— you say or do the wrong thing. 

“oh, i was so happy, Y/N,” he coos, your name curling in his mouth with ease, as if you’re always been around each other, as if it belongs there, “that when i chose you, you came with me.”

your mouth gapes open at the absurdity of it all. you wonder if he really thinks that you wanted all of this, that you wanted to be taken from your home. you’d ask your old psychology professor if you’d be correct to label him as a narcissist of sorts. a man with too much power, and free time, and loneliness to exhaust all on himself that he had to go around looking for a scapegoat for his secret misery.  

“i didn’t– i didn’t come to you, taehyung. i didn’t have a choice.”

“so you were almost forced to come?”

“no,” it comes out more as a question than an answer and you lower your head in search of a way to rationalize the conversation at hand, “i was completely forced–”

“that’s what you tell yourself,” he retorts before you can even finish your sentence.

“it’s what i know is true,” you spit somewhat offended by his insinuation.  

his smile is a sick thing when you raise your head from the food on your plate —cold and uninviting. the smell alone makes you want to throw up. 

“are you sure?”

your anger leaves space for an unnerving sense of confusion. “what does that– what?”

your frown deepens as you watch him play around with his lunch. you follow his hands pushing back his glasses on his nose. the sick look of complacency that dances on his face seems to speak words that make the hairs at the back of your neck raise in dreadful anticipation. i know something about you that you don’t, his eyes say, and that alone is enough to make you want to scream.

he knows nothing!, you’d be shouting to the usually calm neighborhood, i haven’t told him anything about myself. he can’t know anything! he knows nothing! he knows nothing! you’d holler to the kids walking home from school hand in hand with their mothers who’d be looking at you with contempt, unaware of who lives among them. a wolf in sheep's clothing that could easily make you look like a psychopath. 

you’d do it, you swear to yourself that you’d do it all if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve got the inkling fear that you’ve truly gone mad. the doubt that crawls on your back and makes its way in your ears, slithering then, with much glee into your delusional brain.

how long have you been in this house? his house or the one you bought together once you finished college? did you meet him on a slow rainy day outside a coffee shop or did you catch him staring at you from the window before he broke in and took you from your bed, leaving behind torn sheets and a broken frame with a picture of your friends? does your mind deceive you? are you sane? is he?

it feels like you've had this exact same conversation with him an infinite number of times, always stuck in a loop of unease and sadness that you really can’t explain. loving looks sent your way melt into scary grimaces sometimes and all you can feel is guilt because that’s tae. your tae. the man you chose, the man that chose you.

you realize your vacant eyes are crying when you feel a thumb swipe your cheek with a gentleness that makes your stomach churn in disgust and again a voice tells you that there’s something wrong with you.

“baby, are you alright?”

the way you look at him does nothing to the sick warmth brewing in his stomach. your shiny little doe eyes peeking up at him from under wet lashes, asking for forgiveness that taehyung would never deny you. nose red from the frustration of being lost in your own mind and mouth parted as if to ask him to show you the way, the truth that you seem to have lost.

he stands up and rounds the table to you for you to bury your head in his chest. sobs shake your tired form.

“shh, it’s okay, baby. i swear everything it’s okay. it happens to forget.”

“i’m sorry, tae,” you plead through broken breaths. “i’m so sorry, please.”

he shushes you. lips plant themselves in the crown of your head, a hand rubs at your back soothingly.  

later, in the late evening, you lie in your bed. a bed. the sheets smell of him and the air you breathe does not feel like the one you're used to, but you’re calm. you think you are. maybe.

soft snores sound from behind you and you attempt to turn your head to make sure it’s him. 

“tae?” you let out a whisper. not one that expects itself to be heard.

“yeah?” voice hoarse from sleep.

“nothing.”

he buries his nose in the hair at the nape of your neck, inhaling the shampoo he bought for you. “what?”

“just wanted to make sure you were still here.”

“i’m always here, baby.”

you hum.

minutes pass slowly, like molasses, as if the hand of the seconds inside the alarm on your nightstand is fighting an invisible force, a wall of rubber that threatens to bounce time back. you think he’s fallen back asleep. breath slowing, chest heaving, lulling you to slumber.

you close your eyes. “tae?”

he doesn’t answer. a car alarm sounds from outside the closed curtains, its prolonged blaring bringing a certain agitation in your otherwise silent night. a breath of summer wind leaves bumps on your skin in its wake. you sigh and his arms tighten around your torso. an unconscious gesture, soft, loving.

“i dream of you–” you let your words sink into the air, into the boiling water you carry around in your lungs that doesn’t let you breathe properly, and you shiver again but not from the chill bite of the wind “–and it’s slow, and blue, and endless.”

behind you, taehyung’s mouth stretches into a smile.

in a way, you’ve always loved him. he’s certain of it now as he was before. and even if you didn’t, he will always make sure to make it a reality, one way or the other. wether you want it or not.

taglist: @taevestr @fa1ryjoons @vcutvante

[chvnnie]

Vows

lee minho x reader

word count: 4.1k

genre: smut, and heavy angst — MINORS DNI

warnings: non modern au (1800s author!minho), established relationship, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH - NO DETAILS GIVEN BUT PLEASE USE DISCRETION, fingering, unprotected sex, only minho orgasms, dirty talk. there’s not a happy ending. i think that’s it, but if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW

summary: Minho doesn’t know why he can’t seem to beat this writer’s block

a/n: NOT PROOFREAD BECAUSE I AM TOO SAD TO TRY AND EDIT SO DO NOT DRAG ME IF YOU FIND ANY TYPOS. i’m never writing angst again, i cried the entire time i wrote this. and i’m at work. it’s a mess and it hurt but i loved it so. have fun!!!

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents lee minho as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess, @hugs4chan, @stranger-thighs, @beautifulcolorgarden, @scottmcallisdaddy, @whatudowhennooneseesyou, @humayraaaa, @americanokisses, @djeniryuu, @epiphanynaffit - comment/send ask to be added

His hands feel cold as he rubs his face, fingers creeping up to run through his dark locks. In the process, he licks his chapped lips. The winters are already dry enough; really, he should stop before they crack.

But he just can’t help himself. Minho thinks all broken things are beautiful.

With a sigh, he drops his hands. His elbow dings the small ink pot in the process, spilling the black liquid off his writing table. It swirls under the candlelight, landing in heavy puddles on discarded parchment. Typically, the author would hurry to pick up the pot. His money was limited and his practice was expensive; wasting even a little was fatal.

Tonight he sits. Counting the drops as the plop, plop, plop, ruining all of his terrible work. No one will ever know the worlds he’s created and destroyed, the ink making sure to remove them from existence.

Minho is almost jealous of the parchment. What he wouldn’t give to be washed away and made anew, for the burden that being an artist in this life has brought to be returned to the higher powers.

Before he thought it was a blessing. Weaving words to create fantastical lands, to write of unfathomable love. Now, as the candle wax is hitting his wooden table and the ink is running dry, he knows this is a curse.

A walk. A walk might do him well. It could help Minho move the boulder that’s blocking his mind, tapping him dry. Though the hour is well past midnight, it couldn’t hurt to try.

The ankle length coat is heavy on his shoulders, yet he’s grateful. The wind is nippy and is doing nothing to help the dryness of his lips. His tongue rolls over it once again, thankful for the protection it provides. Even if it’s fleeting.

Why can he not get this right? No matter what he scribbles, nothing is making sense. The story he’s made is falling flat, losing its traction as it continues on. It’s a brilliant idea, one that his editor even called a masterpiece. But that’s all it is — an idea. No matter how many times he’s tried to bring it to life, it’s damn near impossible.

What could have happened to it?

Minho walks without really paying attention. He knows the way by now; a left here, down the curved road before you take a right, past the bakery. Every time the golden window comes into view, he stops. Time stops as he looks into the dark store, blinking slowly as snow flutters down and clings to his lashes.

He blinks—

“Minho!” You cry excitedly, your giggle immediately warming his body.

When his eyes open again, the first thing he sees is your bright smile. Smirking, he takes the loaf out of your hand, tearing a bite off the end.

“I’m just saying.” He talks as he chews, turning on his heels in the direction of your shared home. “It would be silly of you to do that.”

“What?” You hike up your lilac colored dress, jogging to catch up to him. He rolls his eyes as you jump in front of him, walking backwards. Many strangers pass, eyes wide and looking at you in disgust, wondering what fool would do this on a busy sidewalk. But the smile on your face doesn’t waver, unaffected by the hurtful whispers of insignificant people. “You don’t think I could bake my own bread?”

“Darling, you can hardly cut an apple.”

“Bread and apples are not the same.” You exclaim, throwing your head back to sigh dramatically. “When you married me, you vowed to always be supportive of me—“

“And I always have been.”

“So, encourage me!” You suddenly stop, putting your hands out to catch Minho before he runs into you. Hands on his jacket, you bunch it up. Pull him close. “Oh, my darling, if that’s what you wish to do. You’ll be wonderful at it!”

Your fingers are so close to his heart, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could feel how quickly it was pounding. There’s something about the way your eyes sparkle when you look at him; wide, full of a life he’s always been envious of. Minho finds it impossible to remember a time before this look of yours.

It started when you were five. Caught up in a tree, crying because you had climbed too high and were too frightened to jump. He remembers the braids you wore, how your hair was falling from them. The tears on your little brown dress from where the branches grabbed the fabric.

Even at a young age, he knew he needed to help. His mother always taught him to help someone in danger. In retrospect, the tree wasn’t that tall. If you fell, the possibility of breaking a bone wouldn’t have been high. Yet it seemed scary, even to the young boy, following your path up it.

“Don’t be scared.” He said to you, reaching his hand out. Shakily, you grab onto it. You squeezed him so tight, his hand began to throb.

Minho knows what it’s like to be scared, and he never would want to leave you alone.

As he returns you to land, you turn to the boy you recognize as your neighbor. Arms flying around his shoulders, tugging him into the tightest hug your little body can give.

And then you pull back, and look at him. The sparkle of life in the depths of your eyes.

He swore you would never be scared and alone again.

It’s hard not to smile, lips pressed together and curling up as he cups your face. “I also vowed to never lie to you.”

With a huff, you pull away from the hug, turning in the appropriate direction this time. “You are the bane of my existence, Lee Minho.”

Now it’s his turn to jog. Catching up to you and gripping your hand to pull you into his side. Despite your wiggles, your faux pout and empty complaints of being exhausted by him, you make no effort to really move. Tucked into his side is the best place, both in reality and fiction, you once told him. The scent of his cologne, the smell of fresh bread and the mint tea he drank earlier. A comfort you always will seek, and one he’s more than joyful to give.

It’s a short walk home; a left and then you’re up the curvy path, walking until you take a right at the bookshop near your home. It’s a quaint little shop, but cozy nonetheless. The door was propped open, smells of cinnamon and leather spilled onto the cobbled road in front of it. Come in, take a seat. Enjoy the writings of authors old and new.

Right in the middle, on a golden stand, sits Minho’s recent work. The yellow cover was your idea — “It piques interest! Come on, do you really want it to be red or blue like all the rest?” The book didn’t need to be published for him to know you were right, but it’s satisfying to see the stacks behind it dwindling. The community enjoying another one of his gorgeous worlds.

“It’s running low.” You hum. “It might be time to mail production, get more copies out.”

“Hm, with what funds? If I recall, you spent it all on poppy muffins not even an hour ago.”

Rightfully, a fist gently collides with his abs. Minho laughs from the impact, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “I’m so proud of you, Min.” You don’t take your eyes off the book. Instead of your trademark beaming smile, you look almost stunned. In total awe. “It’s what you’ve always dreamed of.”

He loops his arm around yours, tugging you away from the window. “It’s not but a hobby. I have greater dreams than that.”

The familiar brick comes into view. A flowerbed in front is home to the brightest plants on the block; daisies, pink flowers that Minho can’t remember the name of, daffodils. There’s even mint for tea, freshly plucked by you (if you can remember). It’s a comfort, a reminder of your love. Of the home you’ve built together.

“Like what?” You fall back in step, letting your husband take the lead so he can get to the door before you. The door swings open, Minho bowing dramatically and you following suit as you pass.

Once the door shut, he began on the buttons of his coat. “Where’s the fun if I tell you?” He teases. When he looks up to see your exasperated expression, it’s only held for a beat before you start to laugh. “I dream of more of this life. Of easy morning walks—“

His eyes open, the cold winter air making his fingers start to numb. It’s time to move again. To continue down this path. This time, he’ll walk straight. Listen for the meows of street cats that always greet him at the block.

Rummaging his deep pocket, Minho finds the little treats he pocketed on his way out. Crouching down, he lets the cats eat from his hand.

“Careful.” He whispers to the biggest one. “Let your friends eat.”

Once he’s sure that they return to the warmth of the home he built for them, Minho starts again. Licks his lips. Takes a right.

And crashes into you, grabbing your hips to help ground himself.

“My love.” You gasp, a hand flying to your chest. Your fingers toy at your necklace, the collision spooking you more than you care to admit. “I didn’t even hear you coming.”

His chest hurts from where your head hit him, flinching slightly as he heartbeat starts to pick up. It’s the first time he’s seen you all day, nose too fair in his journals to pay attention to the outside world.

And wow, is he kicking himself for waiting so long. The yellow dress you’re wearing is perfect for the weather, clutching the roses you picked from the garden to your chest. Seems you kept yourself busy while he worked.

“I’m sorry, darling.” He draws, bending down to catch your lips with his own. “This hallway is just too small for us, isn’t it?”

You smile against him, standing on your toes to steal another kiss. “Maybe, but I’ll never complain about running into you.”

“It’s because you’re not the one with a sore chest.” Finally, he pulls back. “What have you done today?”

“I was busy in the garden.” You adjust the bouquet in your arms, making sure none of the flowers lost their petals. “I wanted to cut the roses before autumn comes.”

Like Minho loses himself in words, you lose yourself in the garden. It’s like you don’t even notice the sun setting some days; fingers too deep in the soil to care about anything surrounding you. The two of you take turns pulling each other out of your little worlds, bringing one another back into existence together.

This crash was a good grounding moment. You both were too far gone.

“They’re lovely.” He says with a smile, delicately stroking the bud of one.

“They were, until you so rudely ran into me and fussed with my bouquet.” You can’t even say it without a bright smile, always delighted to tease your husband. “Watch where you’re walking, Min!”

His eyes roll so far back, he thinks they’ll get lost in his mind. Hands move from your hips to tangle in your hair, pulling you in for a deep kiss. The flowers fall to the floor, and this time the petals come falling off. Scattering the hallway carpet you stand upon.

It’s been too long. Too long since your lips met his, since your body was merged with his own. And it’s only been since this morning.

Maybe too long is an exaggeration, but Minho’s always had a flair for the dramatic.

“Are you planning to go back out?” He mumbles, tongue sweeping against your lips until they part, letting him in.

You whimper as you shake your head, hands on his biceps as you cling for dear life. “Not anymore.”

Oh, how it overjoys the author to hear. Minho walks with you, guiding your bodies to the nearest door before he kicks it open. Though the hallway has seen, and heard, so many parts of you, you deserve more than a stuffy hallway quickie.

It’s a stumble into his office that doesn’t stop until your hips hit his work table. He lets go of you just briefly, sliding the papers, notebooks, quills — all clatter to the ground. The desk sits in front of a window, cracked open just enough to let the summer breeze dance in. It lands on your shoulders, on his face. Ruffles your hair and warms his skin. The fireflies have just started to come out, a few twinkling near the stained glass and lighting it up in beautiful pieces.

Minho cups the back of your head, lowering your body slowly onto the wooden surface. It feels like a dreamlike state as he breaks the kiss, moving himself away from your lips slowly. Your head lays at the edge of the desk, crossing over just a bit onto the windowsill. The breeze makes your hair flutter in strands, the pale light of the fireflies painting your face.

Blue and red. Yellow and green. Pink and orange. Stained glass eyes, bright and full of life, blink up at him. Always happy to see him.

“My darling.” Goosebumps decorate your skin, rising up your neck at the sound of his low tones. His fingers are delicate as he strokes your cheek. “Your beauty always leaves me in such awe.”

Rolling your head, your lips brush against the tips of his fingers, overflowing with gratitude. “You are too kind to me, my love.”

The corners of his lips twitch into a soft smile. “No. No, I believe I am not kind enough.” His other arm hooks around your right thigh, heaving it up in his arms. The dress slides down your body in rippling waves, pooling like golden ink at your hips. “But I will never stop trying to make it up to you.”

Before you can reply, the hand on your cheek slips the nape of your neck. He pulls you up as he comes down, making your body arch into his touch when his lips collide. This kiss is more than the one that let you here — be it the weather or the feral instincts clawing at his throat, Minho’s body is like the brightest flame. Hot enough to bring the entire planet to the brink of extinction.

And it’s all because of you. The smell of roses, the taste of strawberries you had for lunch. His life force, his drive. His muse, who is tugging on his worn out dress shirt and pulling until the buttons pop. Across the room they scatter, lost and never to be found again.

Your hands run across the smooth skin of his chest, carefully feeling every ridge of him. Sweet moans fill his mouth as you enjoy the touch, covering the same spots over and over as if you can’t get enough. It’s easy to get lost in the touch of a lover, feeling their bodies in ways that only you can enjoy. Maybe that’s why you don’t notice his hand moving up your thigh, stopping right at the lower hem of your panties.

But you do notice when two fingers slip inside and quickly brush against your folds, making your body jolt in shock and delight.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Minho says as he pulls back, smiling at the cute expression on your face. “Just relax, darling. Let me care for you.”

“You did.” Your words are breathy, teetering on broken moans. “All morning.”

The chuckle he gives makes you flutter around nothing, new slick starting to coat his digits. “Well, let me do it again. Didn’t I vow to always?”

In the space between his rapid heartbeats, his fingers find your entrance and push inside. With vigor, Minho starts to pump them in and out. The palm of his hand hits your cunt, heel pressing into your clit with each thrust.

It’s an intense feeling, especially with how much torture your husband put you through this morning. You’re more sensitive than usual, hips buck and legs kicking out at the intensity. Only a few thrusts and you’re near screaming, the ache overpowering.

He vowed to always help you, even when you aren’t aware that you need it. Free hand flying to your hip, he pins you down by your hip with enough strength to bruise you.

“Still.” His voice is dark and low, the warning tone causing your bright eyes to widen. Nothing more needs to be said, fear like cold rain washing over you. Following his commands without a fight.

“That’s my good girl.”

Minho has always been good at keeping control. It’s easy for him to calm his mind enough to make sure he doesn’t break. Yet it’s always impossible when he watches your eyes flutter shut, body like the perfect toy in the palm of his hand. His cock aches and twitches in his trousers, demanding for some sort of release.

Even when it seems unlikely, he contains it. Not letting himself get too caught up in the moment, focus narrowed on bringing you the most pleasure he can—

Your left hand cups your breast over the dress. In the light of the fireflies, the simple band of diamonds shine.

When he bought you that ring, his pockets were empty. It was the best that he could find with the little money he had, and even then he had to barter for it. He swore to himself that one day, when he didn’t have to struggle anymore, he would get you the wedding ring that you deserve.

That day came after he published his first book. When the first check came in the mail, he ran to the kitchen, dropping to his knees and proposing. Again.

“Get up, this floor hasn’t been swept yet—“

“Marry me, my darling.” Both of his hands cup yours, the check wrinkling in his fist. “Let me give you all you deserve, starting with this ring.”

His thumb rubs over the jewelry to emphasize his point. He was going to make it better, to make you happier.

“No.” You say simply. “You’re not taking my ring from me.”

“But, darling—“

“I don’t want just any ring, I want the first one you ever picked for me. This one. Now, please, love, get up before I use the broom to sweep you away too.”

It shines as brightly as your eyes under the fireflies. Maybe that’s why Minho can’t think straight. The love coursing through his body bringing him to the edge.

With a loud groan, he stops his movements. Fingers buried knuckles deep inside of you, your husband hangs his head. Your eyes shoot open, concern heavy in them. “Min, are you-“

You fall silent as you notice. The wet spot on his bottoms, growing in size right where the tip of his cock is. Neither of you move, neither of you speak. Watching as cums his pants.

Slowly, he looks up at you. Your hand hasn’t moved from your breast, lips parted in shock — or is that terror? After all, his eyes have never been so dark before.

“See what you do to me?” His voice is more of a growl, pulling his fingers from your cunt aggressively. “See how you make me feel?”

There isn’t time to think. To speak. He doesn’t even take the time to undress you properly; trousers fall to his mid thighs to let his still hard cock spring out. Your head hits the stained glass as he inserts himself into you. Slow, yet rough. Savoring the soft feeling of your walls.

Minho steadies himself by gripping onto your other hip, loudly groaning your name over, and over, and over like a prayer until he’s deep inside you. If you thought his fingers were intense, you’ve shattered from this stretch, clawing at your exposed skin in ecstasy.

All is right when your bodies create one. Limbs tangled, lips swollen. He leans down as he starts to thrust into you, not pulling out more than half an inch. Each one is deep, hitting places neither of you knew existed until this moment.

Nothing else exists. In this moment, you are both all that was. All that is. All that is to come. The universe pauses for you, time stopping as you love each other to an extent that no one thinks is possible. The earth cracks under you, breaking from the strength of this connection.

Better than any story written across time.

His head lays on your chest, the position thoroughly uncomfortable though Minho is convinced it’s perfect. He listens to the beating of your heart, kisses your warm skin, fucks you in unimaginable ways.

“I love you.” He mumbles against the swells of your breasts, nuzzling deeper into them. Craving a life only you can bring. “I love you so much, my darling. I-I don’t even know how to say it.”

This time, you shush him. Threading your fingers through his dark hair, you turn his head so he can look at you. Meeting your bright eyes, full of life.

The metal is cold against his palm. Hard to move regardless of how hard he pushes.

“I love you.” You smile at him. “In ways I’ll never be able to tell you.”

The snow and gravel crunch under his boot. Only a few more steps.

“You’re my everything, Lee Minho.”

Though he’s sniffling, he still smiles up at you. Fully consumed by your presence, wishing to freeze this moment so it never ends. “I thought I was the bane of your existence.”

The laugh you give is full. “Why can’t you be both?”

Though his pants are thick, the cold still seeps through. He sits with his legs crossed, letting the snow melt under him and numb his thighs. It’s a nice distraction — one he really, really needed.

“I don’t know what to write.” He says out in the dark of night, staring at the jewelry in his hands. A small, golden heart pendant and the simple ring cling to the chain, warm from his body heat. They were tucked away the entire walk, pressed close to his slow beating heart. “I’ve gone through sheets of parchment and at least five journals and…nothing.”

With a sigh, he starts to spin the ring. It’s too small for his fingers, though he had tried. Once it got stuck on his pinky. Minho left it there for days, not doing anything until his finger started to turn purple. It hurt too much to take it off.

“You would be appalled by the state of my office.” The laugh he gives is dry and shaky. “I let a pot of ink spill today, and I don’t know when I’ll clean it up. It was almost refreshing to watch it wash away my work.”

The tears have started. He’s not ready. Not now, he just got here—

“I don’t know why this is so hard for me.” He licks his lips, over and over and over until they finally crack. “You’re all I could ever think about, all I could ever talk about. So writing about you should be the easiest thing I’ve ever done. But I try, and I try, and I lose sleep wracking my brain to try and encapsulate what you were. How you held existence in your eyes and loved with such a fierce heart that it could have been the comet that killed the dinosaurs. How can I love you so fucking much, and not know how to talk about you?”

Minho was determined not to look up. If he doesn’t look, he won’t get hurt. Reality can be nothing but a hoax as he talks to you, lost in a world the two of you created.

The dream he wants to never escape from.

But there’s only so much he can take. Finally, his head lifts and fuck how he desperately hopes to see your bright eyes. Instead, the stone sparkles. Your name engraved above the dates, a small reminder that you were real.

Slowly, the author sits up on his knees and begins to crawl. At the headstone he stops, slowly lowering himself to the ground. Letting his body sink into the snow as he lays with you and clutches your jewelry to his shattered heart.

It isn’t long until his eyes start to shut despite his efforts to stay away. One blink, then a slower one, and another until there’s no more. On the last one, right as sleep pulls him in, he swears he hears your laugh.

[underratedandoverit]

some things never change

908 words chuck taylor/trent baretta (implied, can be read as gen)

death before dishonor changed me on some level. my first time with these boys like this so like. be kind to me. takes place post their title match (i also know oc was there but shh lemme have this)

its proofread and edited now, i dont think its terrible but be mindful that i wrote this in an hour of frenzy at 6am originally lmao

hurt/comfort. mild warnings for trent having stitches, theres mention of blood, chuck has issues liking himself and trent says shit once

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate

on ao3

----------------------

Chuck had remained silent the entire time they had been sitting in the trainers room after the match. There had been too heated of a moment at ringside when the match ended for them to notice it, but when they got backstage someone had kindly pointed out that Trent had gotten cut at the brow at some point, so they were escorted to see the doctors, whether they wanted it or not. Chuck insisted that he was okay, apart from some mental wounds from yet another loss, only being worried about Trent right there and then.

As was tradition it seemed, Trent insisted on being okay, but complained the entire time he was being taken care of. Being walked to the medical, having to sit there, while they were cleaning up his wound and washing his face off of the excess blood, while he was being stitched up. Chuck watched all of this happen, not intervening, letting Trent get it out of his system.

When they were finally free to leave to get back to the locker room, Chuck just quietly accepted the ice packs from the trainers that Trent had left behind, knowing that he would bitch about leaving them behind later. Trent was clearly in a hurry to get out of there, being frustrated with the whole situation, which Chuck didn’t blame him at all about.

To be honest, Chuck only blamed himself for all of this. Even if it was indirect, he was the one that brought the team down by not being there to help Trent by breaking the pin, effectively causing them to lose the match. Not to mention since he wasn’t able to properly protect his partner, he had been bleeding by the end of it all.

Trent kicked the locker room door open, Chuck being kind of irked over the fact that it was only the two of them in the Best Friends locker room that night. He honestly would have felt very much the same if they had gotten those titles in their possession and had their friends there to celebrate with them, just with the opposite situation. 

But now Chuck had to deal with all of this by himself, when he wished someone more capable was around to handle the moment he didn’t feel like he was able to hold together for much longer.

Maybe the sigh he let out was a little bit louder than he intended, Chuck instinctively wincing as he saw the concern on Trent’s face following the sound as the other man turned to look towards him, stopping in the middle of his annoyed rant that Chuck hadn’t been listening to at all.

“What’s wrong?”

Chuck just shrugged, weighting the ice pack in his hands that he suddenly found more interesting than anything else in the room. “Just… Bummed about this. Losing, once again.”

Trent’s eyes narrowed slightly, knowing very well when his longtime tag partner was lying to him. Without saying anything he grabbed Chuck by the wrist, walking him to the couch and sitting him down, taking a seat next to him. Chuck didn’t resist, knowing full well that doing so was going to make him explain himself even further. At least this way he was able to try to mask the disappointment and self-deprecation he was currently feeling.

“This isn’t just about losing, is it?”

Chuck glanced at him, but didn’t say anything, avoiding looking at any clear features of Trent, eyes landing on his stitched up brow. He carefully lifted the ice pack in his hand and pressed it against Trent’s face, a small smile blossoming on his lips briefly as he sighed again.

“At least I’m good for one thing, huh?”

Trent remained silent for a moment, but it was obvious that the gears in his head were turning at the statement. “What are you talking about?”

“We lost the match. I couldn’t get back to the ring in time. Sorry about that.”

Chuck removed the ice pack from Trent’s face briefly, wincing at the line of stitches on his face before pressing the ice back against the wound. “And sorry about your face.”

“Dude, it’s not like it was you who made me bleed.”

He knew exactly what Trent meant, but it still wasn’t easy to hear and Chuck’s mind to accept. He looked away, feeling the guilt gnawing on him under his skin.

“Yeah… But I could have prevented that. And I didn’t.”

Trent looked at him, observed the clearly defeated demeanor of the other man for a while, before his hand reached for the ice pack and Chuck’s hand holding it, carefully pulling it off his face and lowering it down, taking the obstacle away from between the two of them so he could finally directly look at Chuck.

“It’s not your fault.”

Trent slowly peeled the ice pack from Chuck’s hand, putting it aside as he grabbed a hold of his hand, interlacing their fingers with one another with ease. Chuck slowly looked back at them, staring at their hands for a moment before he could feel Trent giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t care how many times we win, how many times we lose, how it happens or who’s fault it supposedly is. We’re best friends, dude. As long as we’re together, none of that shit matters.”

Chuck nodded, a small smile crossing his lips, followed by a soft chuckle.

“…Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.”

[thedawningofthehour]

Hi, for someone who its just a beginner in writing fanfic do mind to share your process?

Oh god, I feel really bad when people ask me for advice because half the time shit just pops into my brain I had no input in really cultivating it. So when people ask me how I write dialogue-like, man, I don't know. There's a guy talking and I'm just taking down whatever they say.

Honestly, my biggest piece of advice is just to write a lot, and write whatever. Do you have a cool idea for a oneshot and you're not sure if you can pull it off? Write it anyway. You're thinking of a random scene in the middle of what should be a longer story? Cool. Write that. You think this idea is cringy and you would never want anyone else to see it? Write it and let it sit in your Google Docs. Write stuff and never publish it. Write stuff and drop it when it's no longer fun.

Seriously, I have so many Google Docs that are never seeing the light of day. Stuff that I never bothered to finish. Stuff that wouldn't make sense to anyone outside my brain. Weird horny stuff. Hundreds of hours I spent writing this shit. That wasn't wasted time because-well, for one, I had fun writing it, but I was learning what I liked, what sounded good. And don't worry about never having anything to show for it because you will in the process go "oh man, this shit slaps" with something. I've mentioned before that doth wasn't going to be publish originally. Literally every fanfic I have on AO3 started off as "I'm bored, let's get that idea that I've been thinking about while trying to sleep out of my head." Unlike all the other blurbs I've written, I wanted to return to them, hone them into something better, keep writing more. You can't force passion. It just kind of happens, and sometimes it won't happen. That's okay.

Another thing is: write badly. Seriously, your first draft is just a draft. Unless you're a professional author and it's the night before it goes to print, you can always change it. If you're sitting there thinking 'this is gonna sound so bad'? Write it anyway. Chances are it's not actually that bad. Even if it's not great, you have something to edit-you'll never have anything to make better if you never write it in the first place. And if you do come back to it the next day and realize that it's irredeemably awful-you can just delete it. Rewrite it later if you think of something better. But do not just sit around waiting to spontaneously think of the perfect execution for every scene, because it will never happen and then you'll be left with a blank document.

Oh, something I see a lot of younger, newbie fanfic writers do? Writing and posting the same day. I mean, I do it too sometimes, but generally you don't want to do that, even if you're not in the habit of going through multiple drafts. Your brain does get tired. At the very least do the final read-through on a different day. One of my teachers in high school said it was best to let a piece of writing sit for two days without even looking at it before doing the final proofread, because that's how long it takes for your brain to 'forget' what you wrote. You want to read what's actually on the screen, not what you remember writing. He was right. This is good advice for papers too, for all of you still in school.

Also, if you're planning to write fanfic in English then mad fucking props to you, I have a hard enough time speaking it half the time and it's the only language I speak and I have a fucking degree in it.

Writing is a hard thing to give advice for because everyone, and I mean everyone goes about it differently and wildly different stuff works for them. Some writers can only write first thing in the morning-I'm better at night. Some writers need to have a habit of writing X amount every day, no excuses. I can go between writing nothing and writing 4k words the next day-and those 4k dump days are typically where I do my best work. Nothing fits everyone. It's really a process of fucking around and finding out what fits you best.

Oh, and if you're struggling with anxiety or imposter syndrome? If you're too nervous to start the process, or too nervous to post? One thing that helps me is asking myself, what's the worst possible thing that could happen? Are planes going to fall out of the sky? Are you gonna die? Almost certainly not. What is likely to happen? I go through this pretty much every time I post a chapter. I think, "oh man, they've liked everything so far but this is the chapter where they Find Out and make fun of me." (find out what? I don't fucking know. anxiety isn't logical) I just think about all the other chapters I posted that I thought weren't up to snuff, where I thought people would judge me for it-no, they all liked them anyway. In some cases people even said that it was their new favorite chapter. So seriously, just push yourself over that hurdle. You will be glad you did. The most likely outcome is that some people will enjoy it, and the absolutely worst thing that could happen is that someone is mean to you. And honestly, that says more about them than you.

[snowdice]

Little Kestrel (Part 45) [Birds of Different Feathers Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Patton & Virgil (future Virgil/Patton but not in this story)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton, Virgil

Appear: Thomas

Mentioned: Janus

Summary:

It was supposed to be a quick job either way. Either Virgil would assassinate King Thomas of Prijaznia or he’d be caught and get executed. Yet, when Virgil gets the wrong bedroom and gets caught by Prince Logan and his future royal advisor, Patton, the job ends up getting way more complicated for the 14-year-old. He also ends up sleeping in a (actually pretty comfortable) closet for a few weeks…

Notes: Implied/referenced child abuse, assassination attempt, knives, torture mentioned, captivity, teenagers being really dumb, sexual coercion of minors implied, a minor offering sexual favors

This is a prequel to Kill Dear. I wrote it 100 words at a time on my blog, but this is the edited version. If you want to see how it was crafted (and possibly some future content), look at the tag proofread stories.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44

The king led Virgil to a small room in the center of the stables. Two people were sitting in the room talking and playing cards when they entered. They looked up at their entrance, but didn’t spare them a second glance, going back to playing their game. This both made sense because the king should be able to go wherever he wanted without question and didn’t make sense because Virgil had assumed most people working for the castle would jump into asking if the king needed anything when he entered a room.

Instead, the king walked over to a small counter at the side of the room.

If Virgil did not know he was the king, he probably wouldn’t have been able to guess right now. He’d clearly dressed to be in a horse stable today. There was no crown or any jewelry really in sight except for a necklace. His clothing was perhaps of better quality than most who worked in a stable would wear every day, but not by a large margin. He could have just been a stable manager or something if Virgil did not know better.

He glanced back at Virgil once he’d grabbed a few clean cups. “What would you like to drink?” he asked.

“I don’t care,” Virgil said.

“Have you tried hot apple cider before?” the king asked.

Virgil shook his head.

“Well, it looks like they have some cider being kept warm here,” he said touching a small barrel that was sitting on the counter. There was a slight glow to the barrel that Virgil recognized as a heating enchantment.

“Sure,” Virgil said. “I like apples.”

The king smiled and turned to pour out a glass of the drink through a spigot on the side of the barrel. He offered it to Virgil. The king was serving Virgil a drink. That was… really weird. He was a weird king.

Virgil took the cup. It was warm from the hot drink inside of it, and Virgil felt some of the tension that had been in his shoulders since he’d seen the amount of snow outside release as his fingers warmed up.

“It has more spices than things like apple juice,” the king said. “Mostly cinnamon, but also things like cloves, ginger, and nutmeg.”

Virgil didn’t really know what any of those things tasted like off of the top of his head other than cinnamon and, of course, apples. He took a cautious sip anyway.

“Like it?” the king asked, a smile growing on his face quickly in response to whatever face Virgil was making.

Virgil nodded vigorously.

“Good,” the king said with a chuckle. He turned to get another glass of the apple cider for himself. “Let’s sit,” he said motioning with his head to a couch. It was the only free seating available other than one extra chair at the table where the two stable hands were playing cards.

Virgil did as he was told, walking over to the couch, and taking a seat. It was an old, but comfortable couch. Most of the things in this room seemed pretty old, though all in good condition. It made sense that they wouldn’t want to have a bunch of new furniture when people were just using it to take a break between cleaning horse stalls.

It was a nice little room all the same and warmer than the rest of the building. The two stable hands had slung their light coats over the backs of their chairs, and the king took his coat off before sitting. Virgil kept his on.

There were a few hooks where it looked like the workers kept their heavier winter coats for when they left the stable as well as some bags and a couple of paintings.

“That one looks like Mr. Apples,” Virgil pointed out.

The king glanced at the painting. “It is Mr. Apples actually,” he told Virgil. He smiled a bit. “He was absolutely impossible to keep still for it. He went back and forth between trying to bite the artist to trying to show off for his owner. I’m pretty sure the artist made his eyes red if you look close enough just to express his displeasure somehow.”

“Logan?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, no,” said the king. “That was when my husband was alive.”

Virgil immediately internally cringed. Externally he said a quick “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said the king. “He’s not a taboo topic to me.”

Virgil searched his face, but he really didn’t seem mad. There was maybe a bit of sadness around his expression, but he wasn’t angry.

“Logan always seems upset when he mentions him.”

“He’s mentioned him to you?” the king asked, sounding surprised.

“A few times,” Virgil said. “He said the hairpiece he let me borrow that one time was his favorite and, when he realized I didn’t like the snow, he tried to convince me it wasn’t all bad by telling me how they used to play in the snow when he was little.

“Logan doesn’t usually talk about him much,” the king said. “He was just a child when he died. It hit him very hard.”

Virgil had noticed that himself.

“It’s good he’s talking about him at least a bit.” The king mused, taking a sip of his drink. “He was the son of a stable hand here, actually.”

“You married a stable hand’s son?” Virgil asked and something about his tone made the king laugh.

“I did,” he confirmed. “We met when we were teenagers about your age. His father had come to work at the castle, and they lived in one of the houses out back. There weren’t many kids in the castle at the time and we both liked the gardens and the orchard, so we ended up friends.”

This knowledge just reaffirmed to Virgil that the king was an odd king. From what little Virgil knew of princes, they were not supposed to befriend the children of stable hands they met in the gardens and kings were certainly not supposed to marry them. Then again, Logan was also a prince and he had befriended an assassin he found in his bedroom. In fact, now that he thought about it, Patton was now a royal advisor in training, but even he was just the son of a chef.

Perhaps the royalty of Prijaznia were just like that. He was once again glad he hadn’t managed to kill the king.

He’d been glad for a while now. At first it had been because he’d gotten to know Logan and knew killing his dad would have made him sad. Now, though, he thought it was a good thing he didn’t kill the king because the king didn’t deserve to die from what Virgil had seen. He was nice.

He even got up and got Virgil more of the apple cider when he finished his first cup of it. He continued to sit with him and talk to him about different things like what Virgil, Logan, and Patton had been doing in the past few days.

Eventually, the king went to go check if the weather was any better, leaving Virgil to finish his third glass of cider.

“It’s snowing less hard now,” the king told him when he got back, “but it’s still snowing. It’s also going to start to get dark soon. Do you want to try to go back?”

Virgil didn’t really. He didn’t want to be outside when it was snowing at all, but he also really wanted to be back at the castle before it was night. He’d much prefer to sleep in a bed or even in his closet than somewhere in the stable.

“Yeah, we can try to go back,” Virgil replied.

“Alright,” the king said. He grabbed his coat off the couch from where he’d set it. Virgil had also taken off his coat eventually, so he grabbed his as well. Once they were both dressed, they walked back to the stable door.

Virgil hesitated when he saw the snow. It was better than it had been earlier, but it still was falling fairly hard. He shifted nervously. That was going to be cold.

At least now he could see the castle clearly, so he didn’t have to worry about getting lost in the snow and dying… probably.

“Here,” said the king. He reached for Virgil slowly and Virgil tensed but allowed it. The king took off the hood Virgil had put up and readjusted the cloth hat under it, so it was over his ears before putting the hood back up. He pulled on some strings that Virgil hadn’t realized until right then were designed to tighten the hood so it wouldn’t fall off his head in the wind. Then, the king took off the scarf around his own neck and wrapped it twice around Virgil’s head, so it covered his mouth and nose. The only exposed area of his face was now his eyes.

“Now that will help you get the least amount of snow on you as possible,” the king said.

“Thanks,” Virgil said. It came out a little muffled.

He smiled at him. “Do you,” he asked, sounding a bit awkward, “want to hold my hand?”

He didn’t particularly. He’d held hands with Logan and Patton before, but that was different. This was the king. Then again… he looked out at the snow. He really didn’t want to risk getting lost in the snow and he was less likely to get lost in the snow if he was holding onto someone, especially someone who knew his way around the castle grounds very well.

Biting his lip behind the borrowed scarf, he decided he’d already taken way too many liberties when it came to the king. He shook his head no. “No, thank you.”

“Alright,” said the king. “Offer is open if you change your mind. Ready to go?”

Virgil nodded, grimacing as he stepped out into the cold, the king at his side. Even with the nice winter coat from Logan and the king’s scarf, it was still noticeably cold. Still, he was not cold enough to justify the icy chill that went down his spine and the way his lungs felt frozen solid causing him to pant trying to take in air. It shouldn’t be this way. He’d been in much colder weather for much longer and with a lot less.

“Are you alright?” the king asked when Virgil couldn’t help but slow down to a stop, shivering.

Virgil looked up at him. Unlike Virgil’s face, he had no scarf to protect him from the weather, but he didn’t seem concerned about that. He seemed much more concerned about Virgil. His reddening face was pinched, and he didn’t look like a man as powerful as a king. He looked like… well, he looked like a concerned father, like Logan’s father.

“Can…” Virgil choked out. He held out his hand.

“Of course,” he said. “Like I said, the offer is open.” He reached forward and wrapped his fingers around Virgil’s. Virgil immediately felt the warmth of them, though it may have been more in his head. There were two pairs of thick gloves between their skin.

Logan’s dad led him by the hand all the way back to the castle.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 46

Birds of Different Feathers Master Post

My Masterpost

[beomglocks]

happy (very) 'belated' father’s day

summary : the only father willing to come to the dinner

pairing : dilf neighbor!soobin x (legal)!reader x beomgyu (?)

warnings & other: i wrote the day after fathers day, the title is edited bc im posting this like WAY later LOL, threesome (?), degradation, some beomgyu (no incest), sub!beomgyu if you squint like really fucking hard, definitely not a normal relationship, slight exhibitionism, some possessiveness, DON’T read if you’re uncomfortable with age gaps, edit: REwriting this, this one is for the dilf soobin stans, eat up, don't say i don't feed yall, enjoy <3, kind of proofread

w/c : ~4k

you realize it now.

after living side by side with mr. choi soobin and his son, beomgyu, for a couple of weeks, you’ve started to realize something quite interesting.

1. your mother has a liking for tall lean men.

2. she also has a liking for trying to set you up with the tall lean mens’ son.

now, you wouldn't say you're exactly opposed to getting close to beomgyu. he's conventionally attractive and he seems like a nice boy but you're very much more attracted to the one who created him. it made sense after all.

"give these to mr. choi for me?" your mother all but shoves the roses and chocolates in your arms. you look down quizzically at such gifts. "it's not valentine's day.." you trail off.

you have a strange feeling that soobin would be put off by such acts, not seeming to be as out there as your mother. she doesn't care.

"it's fathers day..well it was...yesterday," she shrugs, fixing her bombshell red lipstick. why was she doing herself up? well a certain mr. choi was coming over.

despite the fact that your own father was out of the picture, that didn't stop your mom from wanting to celebrate every holiday in existence. unfortunately, the only willing father in town to partake in your mother's antics was mr. choi.

he liked to rile her up, you notice. soobin liked to toy with your mother's clear affection towards him, just as he did you. he also liked to throw it in your face sometimes. you didn't say what you observed but you knew he liked to make her feel wanted by a much younger, much more handsome man.

without another word, you decide to give the outlandish gifts to your neighbor. you sigh, looking down at the gifts. some assorted chocolates, nice flower arrangements, and what seems to be a sealed note? you want to roll your eyes but a part of you wonders if soobin would really like these kinds of things.

when you get to the door and ring the bell, the door swings open and there's stands the man himself. he's more put together than you at the moment so you feel out of place even at the front step of his house.

"always a pleasant surprise~" he smiles. his eyes trail down to the gifts in your arms. "for me?" his eyes grow wide and his pouty lips, the ones which you suddenly can't stop staring at since they seemed to be stained cherry red, lay slightly agape.

"from my mom," you deadpan, holding the gifts out. "she's generous~" "overbearing," you correct. "we seem to have different views then," he shrugs. "where's my gift from you though? this can't be all," he ponders in faux thought.

you smile shyly, looking down in embarrassment. "what did you get me baby?" he teasingly leans down closer to you to properly see your face. "could it be perhaps-"

before soobin can place a hand on you, beomgyu comes from downstairs. he's looking sharp, which suits him a lot, you admit. his hair is parted, giving you a teasing view of his forehead. regardless of the fact that he's wearing casual clothes, a stark contrast from his father who dawns an all black attire, beomgyu still manages to make it work for him.

"we'll be seeing you at the dinner," soobin clears his throat, noticing your apparent staring at his son. you can tell that he feels off put by your slight attraction to beomgyu. however small or minuscule it may be its still there to him.

the dinner goes almost exactly how you thought it would. soobin and your mother hit it off, talking about whatever they could to distract themselves from their children for a while. to your surprise soobin barely interacts with you. he seems too occupied with entertaining your mom to pay you any mind.

you're not sure why but this bothers you. beomgyu is occupied in the bathroom at the moment so you can't help but glance in their direction every couple of seconds. your mom is currently leaning against soobin's broad shoulder, laughing at something he's previously said. so he’s a comedian.

you watch as he looks down at her with a satisfied smile on his face. you bite the inside on your cheek and as if on cue, soobin looks up in your direction and smirks. it's almost as if he's taunting you. you bite down harder until you taste something metallic in your mouth.

you're not sure where this feeling of jealously is coming from and you know it's not healthy but you can't help it. maybe you've gotten too attached to your older neighbor in these past couple of weeks.

beomgyu comes out of the restroom with a sigh, walking back into the living room where you are. he can feel a weird tension in your general area but decides not to comment on it. suddenly you stand up, catching beomgyu off guard.

"come on beomgyu!" you say loud enough for everyone to hear especially soobin. the man in question practically pauses in speech midway to look over at you and his son. he eyes you both, mainly giving you a glare that will be engraved in your mind but you don't care. he needs a taste of his own medicine.

"come on let's go to my room, i need to show you something~" you urge him along. meanwhile, you say those words while staring straight at soobin. you hear your mom assure him that it's ok, "the kids are doing their own thing." you knew you were being childish and petty but if soobin wanted to fuck around with you this is what he would have to deal with as well.

you drag beomgyu along to your room who seems quite eager to be in this position. all he knows is that there's a weird tension between you and his father but that's as far as his knowledge goes.

when you both arrive at your room you close the door behind you and lean back on it. "is everything alright?" beomgyu hesitantly asks. you sigh, ushering him along to sit on the bed with you. he looks around subtly at all the little items in your room. everything seems to reflect you well, in his opinion. "well.." you try to stall.

you look up at him through your lashes. "you like me right?" beomgyu stares at you with wide eyes, "i-i mean yeah?" he stutters at your boldness.

"then lets try something," you smile at him, casually pulling your shirt over your head. "let's see how long it takes for your dad to come see us in this position," you say to yourself.

soobin doesn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what's going on here. he knows you're being a brat on purpose but he doesn't care because it makes it all the more fun. he will say he's surprised that you're using beomgyu, his own son, to get to him.

at first, he was getting annoyed with how you seemed to take a liking for his son which is why he wanted to rile you up by seeming extra interested in whatever your mom had to say. now, however, he knew he had a plan for that. you were not going to outsmart him, he wouldn't allow it and he would just have to put you in your place.

"excuse me but i need to use your restroom," soobin makes up a bullshit excuse to get to where you are. "oh of course!" your mom nods at him, instructing him towards the one upstairs. perfect.

"ill just finish up the dinner then!" your mother offers. "great that's enough time to put this slut in her place," he thinks. he smiles at your mom heading for upstairs.

"beomgyu you look like you just saw a ghost," you chuckle lightly, looking down at him. "y/n," he groans at the sight of only seeing you in your bra. he reaches up to grab your breasts, fondling them as delicately as possible. "you can be rough," you offer.

without even bothering to knock on the door, soobin opens it to see you both on the bed in a lewd position. you shirtless on top of beomgyu. he sucks his teeth when you both look back in alarm at the door being burst open. "y/n," he chuckles, almost sadistically.

you can already see the look in his eyes and suddenly you feel bad for not only yourself but beomgyu as well. you try to subtly grab your shirt again in shame but soobin's glare stops you. "what do you think you're doing little slut?" he folds his arms over his chest. not even caring that beomgyu is in the room, he walks over to you and grabs your hair causing you to yelp in surprise.

"s-sir.." soobin narrows his eyes at you then they flit over to beomgyu. "sit over there," he motions to the beanbag in the corner of the room. "i want you to learn something from this." without another word, beomgyu scrambles over to the seat, his heart beating in fear and excitement strangely.

you feel heat rising up your neck and to your cheeks as well as your dripping pussy. "don't be embarrassed, im sure this was your plan all along," soobin tsks, shoving your face down into the sheets. you breathe out when he rips the skirt and underwear from your body without a second thought. the racy thong that was supposed to be his surprise for father's day discarded in a second.

"soobin-" a smack to your ass. "that's not my name."

he doesn't even give you a chance to correct yourself, messing with your sticky juices before entering his cold fingers into your hole. you try to stifle your moan by burying your head further into the sheets.

"god you're so wet," soobin comments. he slowly moves his finger in and out for a while, practically torturing you with how meticulous and slow he's being. "please," you whine pathetically. "please what?" he slows his movements to stare at you with a raised eyebrow.

"please f-fuck me, please, i need your cock," you beg shamelessly. beomgyu breathes heavily, trying to forget about his growing boner but not being able to ignore it. he painfully wants to do something about it but he's not sure if he's allowed to touch himself.

he opts for subtly dragging his hand to his clothed crotch and palming himself through his pants, as uncomfortable as it is. in the meantime, soobin rids himself of his own pants, shaking his head.

he lightly smacks your throbbing pussy and you jolt. "do you seriously think you deserve it? fuck, look at you, can’t wait to be fucked like a bitch in heat~" you whine, wiggling your ass wordlessly in his face to hopefully get what you want.

soobin rubs your clit with narrowed eyes, making sure beomgyu is watching. he could care less that beomgyu is touching himself. he drags some of your cum from your hole to your clit and sighs. "alright then.."

he aligns himself with your hole and without another word slips his cock in with ease, completely bottoming out.

you want to scream at how big he is but you're only left with ragged pants as you know you're unable to make any loud noises. it seriously feels like you could be torn apart at any minute but you love the feeling of soobin’s cock filling you out.

"you're so tight seriously," soobin breathes. he can barely move at first. the way his dick fits inside of your pussy perfectly. he almost wants to comment about how you were practically made for him. he's sure if he flips you over right now, he would see the outline of his cock in your womb.

after waiting a bit for you to adjust to his length he finally starts moving. "shit-" he breathes. you have to grip the sheets to stop yourself from yelling. soobin's hands find their way to your waist and when you look to the side just for a split second you can see beomgyu fighting for his life to not moan out loud.

"look beomgyu-" soobin says in between jagged breaths. "if you wanna fuck around with his pathetic slut this is how you treat her." a moan gets caught in your throat when soobin pounds into you at once. "ah- i-" a part of you wants to apologize and is trying to but he won't give you a chance to speak.

"isn't that right my slutpuppy? did you have something to add?" at the sound of the nickname your walls tighten around him and he sends a harsh smack to your ass. "you're enjoying this aren't you?" he rolls his eyes and sighs heavily.

soobin thrusts start getting faster and faster, beomgyu watching with his mouth agape at his father kissing and sucking at your neck to muffle his own moans. beomgyu can only bite his lip and noises from his throat barely pass his lips as he reaches his high.

soobin growls at seeing your eyes focus on beomgyu so he starts slamming his cock into you at an animalistic pace and you think you might break.

beomgyu bucks into his hand as he cums from the sound and sight of skin slapping added with the tiny noises you'd make. not too long after you feel yourself shudder, unable to warn soobin that you had come you squeeze your eyes shut and let out a whine instead.

"fuck- ok baby," soobin understands as soon as your walls squeeze around him. he pants a couple a times and as soon as he reaches his high he pulls out, pumping his cock to let his cum shoot out on your ass.

"s-sir," you moan. "shhh it's ok." soobin sighs heavily, coming down from his own high to tend to your broken state. he looks over at beomgyu, who's head is lulled to the side as he gazes at your sweat and semen covered body.

soobin sucks his teeth deciding not to say anything to the boy and let him chill for a minute. he shrugs his pants back on and carries you in his arms to the nearest bathroom.

you cozy up to his warm embrace, letting out a sigh. "baby we need to clean you off.." you hear him whisper. you almost completely forget that there's a dinner that's supposed to be happening and you cant just go to sleep with soobin like you'd want.

a sudden coldness hits your body and you shiver. "ok," you agree. his cum is already starting to dry on you and you want nothing more than to be cleaned like he offers. you're not sure how you'll explain your change of clothes to your mom but you're sure you'll come up with something later.

no words need to be spoken after what happened and you're glad because you're not sure what to say. soobin doesn't seem keen on talking at the moment either, too focused on cleaning you off, so you decide to stay quiet.

it's silent in the bathroom until you both hear your mother all out. "dinner's ready!"

you chuckle, breaking the silence as soobin looks up at you with a questioning eyebrow. “happy father’s day.”

[heartless-aro]

When talking about aromanticism there tends to be a lot of emphasis on the basic idea of “you can be happy without romance,” which is a true but underwhelming sentiment. Yes, you can be happy without romance, in the same way you can be happy without liking certain types of foods or certain hobbies and the like.

But being aromantic is beyond that. Aromanticism isn’t just “not bad” or “not lesser” or “not a tragedy.” Being aromantic is beautiful, and joyful, and fun.

Being aromantic means realizing that the life you’re expected to want is not what you ACTUALLY want and so, it is the freedom and exhilaration of figuring out what you want and forging your own path through life. Aromanticism is the deeply personal process of examining your feelings and finding your own priorities in life. It’s looking at your relationships and refusing to label them, instead letting them exist as they are and focusing not on what your relationships “are supposed to look like” but rather, what you WANT them to look like. It’s making your own decisions on what sort of relationships are important to you, refusing to let anyone make that choice on your behalf.

Aromanticism is the rejection of the expectation that you should water yourself down into something more palatable so that others might be attracted to you. It’s knowing that the way you look, the way dress, the way you behave and present yourself are for your own sake, not anyone else’s.

It’s the relief of not having to worry about relationship drama, because you’re single and happy to be single.

It’s the sense of joy and community that comes with slipping a white ring on your left hand middle finger.

It’s existing for yourself. It is knowing that you don’t need any “other half” because you are whole.

It’s whatever you want it to be, because aromanticism the journey towards your own form of happiness, whatever that may mean for you.

[simluvbot]

Enhypen’s reaction to when you punch a guy (hyung line)

a/n: this was a request ! I said I could upload this a few days ago but due to it being my birthday and it currently being exam week I didn’t have the time to edit this so that’s why I uploaded without proofreading at first TT // ok I finished editing 😁 Jake and sunghoon’s one is so bad don’t read it pls sorry

Although as this fic includes violence I only wrote for hyung like members and not maknae line, I hope you understand

Warnings: descriptions of physical violence (punching), mentions of being in a crowd, mentions of wanting to harm others (thoughts)

+ note: this is a work of fiction and in no way am I encouraging violence ! I wrote this in a way that I thought would match the member’s personalities although this is definitely not a true depiction of the enhypen members ^^

Lee heeseung

You and heeseung had been in the library studying together for your exams, and although you both had luckily reserved a secluded spot in the library that was both quiet and spacious for your revision, it wasn’t soon before some inconsiderate assholes had decided to occupy your desk too.

There were only two of them, yet they still managed to take up over half of the table whereas you and heeseung only had one small portion to yourselves

Plus they were very noisy, and the only librarian being on the seconf floor didnt help either  😐

You and your boyfriend had both made several attempts to sheepishly ask them if they could please quieten down before the librarian came back and kicked them out and more importantly so you mad heeseung could focus ??

But they simply ignored you, paying attention to the… online games ?? They had came to the library to play???

You were starting to get very annoyed, but decided to bite your tongue and instead have you and heeseung focus on your work

But it was when one of them spilt their coffee on heeseung’s expensive   textbook and even laugh afterwards which is what you decided that you finally had it

You don’t know how it happened, but soon you were standing up and landed a solid punch on the guy’s face

Heeseung was really shocked, just as much as you at your brash movements

And he would be even more concerned for you when he sees the person you punched egret aggressive to you and start getting close in your face.

“Hey man, that’s enough.” Despite heeseung’s shock, it didn’t take him longer than second before he stood up and grabbed at the man’s arm easily after he got up close you you intimidatingly, heeseung’s strong grip preventing the stranger from hitting you back and you swear you’ve never heard heeseung’s voice so deep and authoritative before as he told the man to sit down and focus on his stupid game

Due to your own surprise at your actions, you barely payed attention to what was going on as heeseung had a polite (on his end..) whisper-argument with the two guys, packing his things up as well as yours before grabbing your hand and safely leading you out of the library

You two ended up going home where he cleaned at your busted knuckles gently, sad at the fact that you got hurt and overall bummed out at two guys who got you so worked up and that his go-to textbook got ruined ):

“Baby, why did you do that, Hm? We could have just left to another place. You could have gotten hurt if they fought back!”

More than anything, your boyfriend was upset at the idea of you potentially getting more than just a few cuts and bruises on your knuckles, and so you promised heeseung right then and there that you wouldn’t do it again

After both of you got changed into your pyjamas, you and heeseung had set up your own study area in the dining room table, where you both continued with your study session for the rest of the day, with lots of cuddles afterwards as a reward!

Park Jongseong

You and jay were walking back home and it was already dark outside as you were both walking through the streets.

Approaching a heavily crowded place outside a club which included several people under the influences, it was pretty hard for you both to squeeze through the crowd as you were walking past.

They literally were spilling onto the road.. :/

“Jay.” You gasped when you lost hold of his hand on yours, leaving you in the idle of the crowd alone. There were so many bodies around you and as you got quickly pushed to against a wall from the movements of the people you found it hard to make your way through the people who were much taller than you.

You were starting to get anxious and when someone came directly in front of you, literally ignoring you asking for them to move and plainly blocking you for no reason you started to get frustrated, adrenaline in your veins as you lost your boyfriend and wanted to get out asap before you started fo panic.

You had asked the person to please move out of the way so you could pass through and they even had the audacity to look at you and make eye contact — only to simply ignore you when you asked for the nth time for them to scoot.

So, with your anxiety peaking and frustration soaring, you punched them hard on their face as soon as they turned around, and when they went stumbling backwards you finally had enough space to escape from your trapped position against the wall.

Jay had finally found you and was right there a few steps in front of you, and you were almost reaching him when a hand pulled you back suddenly, slamming you against the wall aggressively and leading you to hit your head hard.

Jay saw the whole thing. and he was livid

He shouted at the guy and grabbed his hands in his, pushing him so he was off of you once again. Jay was so angry he literally thought he could see red. How dare a man not just refuse to let someone obviously distressed through, but to touch you and hurt you?

You had to calm him down and urged hin for you both to leave before the stranger started getting aggressive because he was already shouting at you both and some heads were turning 😟

He eventually listened to you when he saw your glossed eyes and you clutching at your aching knuckles, so gently grabbing your unhurt hand in his he swiftly led you both away from the crowd in less than a minute, face fallen and heart aching ah ):

“Hey, let me look at you. are you okay? Did that bastard hurt you a lot?”

You could tell he was still so agitated with what happened, checking at your bruised knuckles and looking a the back of your head that was starting to form a lump from the force of being pushed against the wall earlier.

“I’m so sorry, I should have held tighter. I should have brought some security guards with us today.”

You had to tell him it was okay and you defended yourself and the guy was just a jerk and can’t hurt you anymore.

Jay was still so sad at the fact that you got hurt all because he let you go accidentally for one second ): seeing you so anxious and literally in pain made him feel so bad.

He showered you in many kisses once you both got home and you had a relaxing bath together, as well as helping treat your bruise , promising for this to never happen again 🥺

Sim jaeyun

You were hanging out with your old classmates as a reunion and it was getting close to the time where Jake had said he would pick you up to take you home.

Your classmates had asked you if you had a partner and when you told them that you did, they all got instantly curious.

You of course got so excited and was ecstatic to flaunt off your talented and handsome boyfriend to them :D

So you showed them a picture of Jake, however the reaction that you were met with was not what you were expecting.

Your classmates were silent for a few moments as they looked at the photo, before one of them eventually asked,

“Oh, so that’s the guy you’re dating?”

You could see two of them exchange glances for a reason you could not possibly fathom and your heart fell to your stomach when you saw them stifing their laughter.

“What?” You asked, frowning as you looked at the photo you showed them on your phone. What was wrong with the photo?

“Oh.. nothing it’s just.. well.. he just doesn’t look like the best option..”

“It’s pretty cute actually. Of course you would end up with a guy that looks like he matches you in social level.. he’s probably a loser.”

You were so confused and the comments kept coming as they talked amongst themselves, openly criticising Jake for no reason.

You gotta admit, you never were the closest my with your classmates in the first place but still decided to agree to the meet-up for old times’ sake.

You could put up with their side glances towards you ever since you arrived because you barely cared, but when they dared talk about your boyfriend like that??

You were so angry you felt yourself almost shaking.

“Hey.” You said, standing up abruptly from your seat on the picnic table at the park you guys were hanging out at.

“Why are you insulting my boyfriend like that. What is wrong with you?”

Once again, they simply laughed in your face, seeming to think of your reaction as hilarious.

You were gonna start crying soon because the rage boiling up inside of you was reaching to the point that you were finding it hard to contain it and breathe deeply to keep calm and not cause a scene.

But they kept insulting Jake, liking watching you get angry under their gazes.

One of your classmates in particular kept offering comments, too many and you had enough - you snapped.

You punched them square in the face.

And you had done so just when you noticed Jake exiting his car right outside of the park, when it was obvious that he saw you.

You didn’t care, and in fact you started laughing almost hysterically in front of your classmates at their shocked expressions.

You were in tears because the person you punched started having a nosebleed… to you it was hilarious and you were in your own world trying to catch your breath from laughing so much until you heard your name being called.

“Y/n.” Jake said worriedly, finally reaching yoy and placing a hand on your shoulder.

He led you to his car, and after you both left and as you sat silently in the passenger seat having calmed down, you were staring to feel awkward with all the little glances Jake threw towards you ever so often.

He didn’t ask or push, instead just remaining silent and gripping at your hand you had punched your classmate with, thumb swirling over your red knuckles as he stared down at them with a bothered expression.

“Sorry.” You finally said, giving him a sheepish smile. “They just kept talking so badly about you when they found out I had a boyfriend.. I couldn’t resist.”

Jake if anything was a bit disappointed that you had reacted violently, and he was silent for a few seconds as he sat unknowing of what to say, frowning and licking his lips like a confused puppy trying to work out a solution.

“Please just don’t do it again. Violence is never okay, you should have just left. I don’t want my y/nnie getting hurt or getting into fights because of me, okay?”

You both drove back and cuddled a lot on the sofa, and Jake made sure to give your knuckles several kisses, his heart aching with the memory of what happened );

Park Sunghoon

“Ha, if it isn’t the ugly y/n.”

You bit your lip as you heard the familiar laugh of the rink bullies behind you, plainly mocking you.

“Still friends with that weirdo, park sunghoon?”

Ever since the members in the same extracurricular figure skating club had found out you were friends with sunghoon, the ice boy that they liked to torment for reasons forever unknown to you, you had soon too fallen victim to their evil teasing.

“I told you to stop making fun of sunghoon like that.” You said plainly, sighing as you sat down on a bench to undo your skates.

The group members laughed and would just not leave you alone, even going as far as sitting next to you and entering your personal space by constantly poking at your sides sharply.

And you swear to god the temptation of slashing open their faces with the bottom of your skates was very tempting—

But no, you had told sunghoon that you would meet him at the entrance of the rink to walk home together after your individual practices; and you were already running late.

“Where you going? To go see sunghoon? Huh? Go tell him that we messed with his skates so he fails in the competition.”

Your hands froze as you were tying your converses. You looked up, meeting the leader’s gaze.

“What?” You had enough. You could never understand why they had sunghoon as their punching bag. Sunghoon was used to it, not one to start arguments and the type to only keep to himself when things like this happen.

You just went along with it and followed his lead in ignoring your other club members, but them going this far to try to sabotage the performance sunghoon had been training months for? You had enough of simply doing nothing in retaliation to their bullying.

Standing up abruptly, they stood back at youe sudden movement, but not quick enough for being able to dodge the punch you swung directly on the nose of the nearest one in front of you.

“Y/n?”

Looking over to the doorframe of the changing room — there was park sunghoon.

“Sunghoon.” You said in shock, glancing over towards the group in front of you as they started guffawing at the sides of the person you punched

“Sorry, I got caught up with-“

You were just making your way speedily over towards hoon when you were pulled back by the wrist painfully.

You gasped when the force that you were let go of led you to be flung over to one side and practically topple onto the sticky matte floor.

Wincing as you landed on your wrist, you hissed at the fresh pain and the loud crack that came with it.

It was silent as everyone paused, having heard your wrist snapping as much as you had felt the pain of it.

“Y/n!” Sunghoon was at your side in an instant, pushing his way cut though the others standing around you in shock.

His pretty face was frowned with worry, eyes wide as he came in front of you, assessing your wrist without touching it.

“Let’s get out of here.” He scooped you up, and if you weren’t busy trying to breathe in and out deeply to calm yourself down after your injury, you would have been surprised at the skate bullies making space for a clear path Sunghoon to carry you through.

From all your time of knowing the talented ice boy, your skating partner and friend — you had never really seen him show much emotion apart from the small smiles and laughs he gave only to you. His long legs were able to stride quickly to a bench outside as he called an ambulance for you, a distressed expression as he meticulously cared towards you.

And gee if you breaking your wrist didn’t hurt like hell, but after all, did you regret that day? No. You finally were able to stand up to the bullies for the first time, and even more importantly — that moment had started the beginning of a new chapter for you and Sunghoon.

[i-m-b-a-s-i-c]

exes confront each other | ricky bowen

pairing: ricky bowen x reader

credits: this is inspired by/based off of @by-moonflower ‘s series. even if you’re not into seventeen, her characterization and banter is so well-written that it feels like you know these characters personally, so i encourage you to check it out

warnings: questionable writing and characterization, author has not watched season 2, semi-proofread

a/n: after almost a year of not posting, i sat down and wrote this in one night, so this may not be the best. please don’t kill me if anything here contradicts season 2, i haven’t watched it yet and may edit this after i do

the camera man sends you a sympathetic smile as you sit alone in a stool. the room feels desolate although a small crew frantically scurries along the edges of the room, ensuring nothing is out of place.

the commotion comes to a halt as the door opens and your ex slides into the stool across from you. 3, 2, 1, action.

[how did you meet?]

you:

ricky:

you: he was dating my best friend

ricky: well it sounds bad when you say it like that

you:

ricky: what the- why are you laughing

you: well it was bad, wasn’t it?

ricky:

you:

ricky: is she still mad

you: not at me

———————

ricky: so i had been dating Gi-

ricky:

ricky: are we allowed to say names

you: we probably shouldn’t

ricky: right. anyway, so i had been dating her best friend for 2 weeks and she brought me back to her apartment-

you: our apartment

ricky: their apartment. i didn’t know she had a roommate at the time

you: you figured it out pretty quickly though

ricky: i made the mistake of walking into what i thought was the bathroom without knocking

you: it was my room

ricky: it wasn’t like you were changing or anything

you: yeah just dancing around my room

ricky:

you: of course that was the one day i forgot to lock my door

ricky:

you:

ricky: i’m glad you did

———————

ricky: we didn’t start dating until months later

you: way after they broke up

ricky:

you: she never told me why you broke up in the first place

ricky: it was mutual

you:

ricky: the initial attraction was gone

you:

ricky: and i had feelings for someone else

[why did you break up?]

ricky:

you: we were going different places

ricky: quite literally

you: i was moving across the world

ricky: and i stayed here

you:

ricky: i would’ve gone with you, you know?

you: i couldn’t do that to you

ricky:

you: you had all your friends and family here

ricky:

you: you were following your dreams

ricky: i could’ve done that with you wherever you went

you: it wouldn’t have been the same

ricky: it wasn’t the same without you here either

[what did you love most about each other?]

you: oh gosh

ricky: is it really that hard to think of something

you: no that’s not it

ricky:

you: i just love you so much, it’s hard to pick just one thing

ricky: love?

you: what

ricky: you said love, not loved

you: you know what i mean

———————

you: i loved how you talked

ricky: i have no idea what that means

you: like when you were excited about something that happened that day and your whole face would light up

ricky:

you: your eyes would shine and your smile was so big

ricky:

you: and you’d ramble on and on about the most trivial things

ricky:

you: but they were important to you and that made them important to me

ricky:

you: it felt nice to know that you wanted to tell me everything. it was easy to love you

ricky:

you: are you okay

ricky: i was always worried i was being annoying

you: you never annoyed me

——————

ricky: i loved your duality

you: i didn’t think you knew what that word meant

ricky: oh shut up

you: also, huh

ricky: well, if you’d let me explain

ricky: you made me want to talk to you, but i also wanted to listen and know everything about you

you:

ricky: you could match my energy and calm me down too

you:

ricky: and you were funny

you:

ricky: we would stay up laughing for hours and we’d always have to cover each other’s mouths to not wake up the neighbors

you: i should’ve mentioned that i loved how you made me laugh

ricky: i am pretty funny

you: and so humble too

ricky:

you:

ricky:

you: why are you looking at me like that

ricky: i love your laugh

you: you said love, not loved

ricky: i know

[what did you hate most about each other?]

ricky:

you: it’s ok, ricky

ricky: almost everything about you was perfect to me

you: emphasis on almost. go ahead

ricky: i hated how you left

you:

ricky: not even that you left but you didn’t let me go with you

you: ricky-

ricky: you made that decision for me without even asking how i felt. you just decided for both of us and left without looking back

ricky: you did that a lot actually but i never thought it would end with you leaving

you: i’m sorry, i just wanted the best for you

ricky: i know, it’s ok

———————

ricky: your turn

you: i don’t know what to say

ricky: oh come on, there had to be something

you: i was so in love with you, all of you

ricky: there had to be at least one major flaw to make you leave

you: i didn’t want to leave you, ricky

ricky: then why did you?

———————

you: i hated how indecisive you used to be

ricky: i can’t decide how i feel about that

you:

ricky:

you: i’m so done with you

ricky: don’t act like i can’t see that smile

you: anyway, as i was saying

you: you could never make a choice from what you wanted for dinner to even whether or not we should actually date. it felt like i was responsible for maintaining this relationship, i guess that’s why i always needed to make the decisions

ricky: i never thought about that, i’m sorry

you: i know, it’s ok

[do you think you could try again?]

you: yes

ricky: yes

you: jinx, you owe me a coke

ricky:

you:

ricky: would you want to get lunch after this? just so i can buy you that coke, of course

you: that sounds nice

you: but only for the coke

ricky: only for the coke

p.s. it wasn’t only for the coke

[99zmist]

when you love someone — jung wooyoung.

— “in your eyes and in my eyes, we'll remember forever. it'll be the most brilliant darkness in our eyes; wrap me around, my aurora.”

pairing: jung wooyoung x female!reader

word count: 4.2k

genre: (18+) angst, fluff, smut. AU.

warnings: filthy sex, dirty talk, oral (M receiving), unprotected sex, strong language, profanity, not much of an established relationship and mc can’t make up her mind.

additional notes: this is honestly based on a dream i had of san last night, and i couldn’t seem to get him out of my head after that. (i swear it was the fluff parts that i dreamt about) i wrote this in one sitting, and i already proofread this but mistakes are still unavoidable—so if you happen to come across some, please don’t mind lol i’ll edit it again after.

enjoy reading, i would greatly appreciate it if you leave feedback when you finish. thank you! xo

dedicated to: @neo-shitty​

you weren’t actually in a good place to begin with.

you felt like your school performance in university was dropping fast, how overwhelmed you always seemed when there were so much tasks to do; you barely had any support system coming from your friends, and your family was miles away and the only comfort you had from them was through video call. san was the only person who kept your feet on the ground, but even he strayed away from you as time went on. he wasn’t committed to you in a sense, but there was something going on between the both of you—a mutual understanding on the feelings of both parties, but that’s just about it. he’d be sweet to you, make love, make you feel like there’s something lingering in the way he stared, but at the end of the day he wasn’t committed to you—nor did he make the effort to.

maybe, those were also the reasons why it hurt so much when he started getting distant. of course you’d be attached to him—how can you not? try being around someone for almost a year, validating your feelings and making you feel whole, just for them to drop you right in the middle of your own battle with chaos.

then again, life goes on.

even without san being by your side until the last months of university, you still managed to push through. you graduated with a degree in BS Nursing, not with latin honors like you originally planned, but at least hell was over, right? you had a new chance to begin again, maybe start your hospital duties in another city, have a complete do-over of yourself and maybe try to find love again.

so you did.

after a few months, you settled in your new apartment in seoul after finding a job, and in between that timeframe you met wooyoung just around the hustling and bustling streets of dongdaemun market when you were shopping for new clothes. you always thought meeting a potential lover would never be like in those rom com cliches you’ve watched—but as hilarious as you thought it would be, your encounter with wooyoung was just like that. just like any other meeting, you both collide by coincidence when your co-worker who wanted to meet up with you was also meeting up with him to return something he borrowed.

you weren’t exactly sure how the both of you clicked, but within the next few weeks it involved him making time for you despite your hectic schedule, being with you even if you were busy reading additional information from nursing textbooks, to picking you up after your shifts. it wouldn’t even matter what time you got off the hospital—whether if it was 5 pm in the afternoon or 3 am in the morning—he’ll be there. if you weren’t too tired yet, he’d ask for your permission if he could take you on a ride just to keep your mind off the stress from work. he’ll spend most of the time in your apartment than his, cooking for you after a long day, and just be an additional support system while you tried to figure things out on your own.

wooyoung had always been patient with you, and not once did he get upset when you pushed him away in nights where things got hard on yourself, or even if it involved stress from work. he’d just give you your space to clear your head, or give you a comforting hug in the middle of the room just for you to relax around his embrace.

when your relationship with him deepened and he decided to ask permission if he could court you, you said yes. however, you also decided to open up more to him about the previous person you loved. you told him about san, and all he did was listen on your part. you could see the way his eyebrows knitted together in frustration at the parts where san treated you differently, but he kept his mouth shut and respected your space to just keep going.

then finally, you tell him you still haven’t moved on.

for a brief moment, wooyoung’s understanding facade vanishes. it was just for a split second—barely noticeable if you didn’t look hard enough—but to your surprise, you did. you noticed how he faltered a little bit, but you also couldn’t help but discern the way his lips curl into a smile afterwards.

“thank you for being honest with me,” he says, reaching forward to gently touch your hair, then your cheek. you’d lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering close for a bit. “i’m sorry for what you had to go through. but, y/n–” at the mention of your name, you open your eyes to find him looking down at you. “i won’t make you enter something you’re not ready for.”

“woo,” the tone in your voice was soft with a tinge of diffidence, and it was you this time who moved closer to wrap your arms around his torso, leaning against his chest as you heaved in a breath. “it’s okay. not once did it seem like you’re forcing me to. you’ve always been so good to me. this doesn’t mean that i don’t feel anything for you—i just… i can’t decide what i want yet and i’m sorry for making things complicated as it is.”

wooyoung takes in your words with a purse of his lips and a nod, before wrapping his arms around you as well he buries his head at the crook of your neck. you stay like that for a moment—standing in the middle of your bedroom—feeling just like any other night with him, engulfed in his warm and gentle embrace.

“y/n.” he mutters against your skin, and you hum in response as you rub soothing circles on his back.

“can i ask one selfish favor?”

you pull away slightly to meet his eyes, and for a moment you search for something in his gaze. he still had that gentle expression, and his eyes still looked like it held the entire universe as it glimmered brightly when he stared at you. trying to catch your breath, intoxicated by his gaze, you nod.

wooyoung reaches for your hands this time, clasping them in between his large ones. “just... just stay with me,” he says. “it’s okay if you haven’t moved on from san yet. let me prove to you that i won’t go anywhere. just please stay with me too.”

you had feelings for him. you liked wooyoung so much. but that’s what scared you—you were more terrified with what you feel for him than what he felt for you. you thought you were indecisive enough to not know what you truly feel, but you do know. and you knew deep within you that jung wooyoung was someone you wanted to be with—just not at the moment. you didn’t want to drag him over your chaotic and messy feelings, for you knew you needed to fully move on first and heal, and then you can be with him.

“okay,” you finally respond, smiling softly at him. “i’ll stay with you. i won’t be going anywhere either.”

the first kiss you had with him swept you off your feet.

it happened during christmas eve when you and wooyoung had a mini celebration at your place. you were already done spending time with your family a few days ago, so you gave your time to be with wooyoung that night. the two of you exchanged gifts; and as he opened the one you gave, his smile was so wide and heart-fluttering the moment his eyes landed on the beautiful pair of earrings inside the small box. he hugs you tightly, repeating words of gratitude all over again and peppering soft kisses all over your face.

“wooyoung,” you giggled, playfully pushing his face away as your face burned. “stop! you’re making me blush.”

when it was your turn to open the gift, you were in awe when you saw the gold necklace. you returned the hug, mentioning how you thought it was too much and you didn’t deserve it. wooyoung scoffed and shook his head, telling you all the obvious reasons why you did.

“that’s a good thing, then?” he teases, sitting back up straight. you roll your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him. chuckling under his breath, he reaches over and hands you another small box.

in the middle of his loud rambling, you just stare at him until you move forward—grabbing the sides of his head before pulling him in for a kiss. it startled him, and the feeling of your soft lips against his made his stomach churn. it doesn’t take long when he kisses you back, suddenly finding it hard to breathe as he does so. his mind was blaring out alarms as the kiss deepened.

the woman he loves was kissing him right then and there, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

that same night, the two of you cuddled underneath the sheets, his arms around you while his index finger traced circles on your arm. you would fall asleep first, feeling safe in his embrace. wooyoung would have his eyes open for another hour, just staring at you and planting soft kisses on your nose when he had the chance.

he loves you too much.

he was hoping if you already felt the same.

“is your shift done? i’ll come pick you up.” wooyoung says on the phone as you walk down the hospital corridors, greeting your senior doctors and other fellow nurses along the way.

“saeyeon offered to drive me home, so don’t worry,” you reply, walking inside the locker room. wooyoung lets out a little hum of acknowledgement. “do you want me to buy anything at the store before i come home? do you want some take out food?”

he chuckles, and you could feel his warm smile from the other line. “i already cooked us dinner. having you home is all i want.”

you felt your cheeks burn once again at his attempt of flirting, and you ended up scoffing at his response. wooyoung laughs loudly, “no clap back? did i make you blush again?”

“shut up or you won’t see me coming home tonight.” you warn, but the playful tone in your voice was so evident that all he could do was to burst into laughter. of course you were joking—he was the only one you’d come home to, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

    once saeyeon drops you off, you thank her, pressing your cheek against hers before you get out of the car. you always took the stairs when coming home, but tonight, you decided to take the elevator. the eagerness to see wooyoung was exciting—and you thought, ‘okay. this is good.’ it was good in a sense because you were finally opening up your love for him, and after a year of being courted by him and being with him, you felt like you were ready again.

this time, for a love that wasn’t temporary. 

you wanted him. you were starting to accept your love for him.

so as the elevator doors opened and you arrived at your floor, you quickly made your way to the door to unlock it. when you walk in, you find wooyoung sitting on the couch watching a drama on the television—but his attention immediately diverts to you the moment you entered.

there it was. the wide smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes whenever he looked at you.

“hi.” he greets softly when he stands up.

“hey.” you smile, and you drop your bags on the floor before rushing forward to engulf him in a hug. he stumbles back in surprise, but is quick to hug you back as he presses a soft kiss on top of your head.

“you okay? how was work?” wooyoung asks, still holding you there. it doesn’t take long to realize that being held like that felt so nice—how gentle he has his arms around you as if you were the most fragile thing he has ever held. “did you have any troublesome patients today?”

you shake your head, pulling him closer. “no. i just felt really excited to come home.”

wooyoung doesn’t say anything in return, but he felt his heart fluttering at what you said. pulling away from the embrace, he leads you to the kitchen where dinner was prepared, and the two of you eat while mentioning what else happened throughout the day.

    that night, you found yourself in wooyoung’s arms once again, kissing passionately underneath the moonlight shining through your bedroom window. you had one hand on his cheek and the other at the back of his neck—pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss. you can hear him grunt when you do so, but he kisses you back with the same amount of intensity. on most nights, it would only involve make-out sessions followed by cuddling near the fireplace, but tonight, you wanted to move further.

as much as it scared you a bit, you wanted him. you wanted to feel him. you wanted to love him.

wooyoung hovers on top of you before pulling away from the kiss, as he presses his lips against your neck, nipping on your skin that would make sure to leave hickeys and bruises behind. you bite your lip to muffle a moan, your hand gripping his bicep. he slips his hand into your shirt, and you shiver—whining slightly at the contact, before he breaks away for a moment to pull your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts. the way he looked at you was enough to feel yourself pool with wetness in between your thighs, and it doesn’t take long until he pulls you in for a kiss again.

you kiss him back sloppily, shifting your leg only to feel the growing bulge in his jeans, making you moan between his lips. he grazes his teeth on your bottom lip slightly, fumbling with taking off your bra. you assist him, stealing another set of wet kisses in between. you throw your bra towards the floor, and you exhale the moment wooyoung take your breasts in his hands, groping and squeezing them before taking one in his mouth. you moan loudly, arching your back as he swirls his tongue around your nub while squeezing and pinching the other. you were a writhing mess beneath him, but you loved every second of it.

when he pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact, but watch quietly as he sits up and fumbles on his own belt. however, he pauses for a moment before looking back at you—and between the lust-filled gaze, he softens for a moment.

“y/n,” he calls out, weighing out the current situation. “are you sure?”

you sit up on the bed as well, and you give him a soft, lingering kiss as a confirmation. “wooyoung, i’m–” nodding your head, you exhale softly. “i’m sure.”

he nods, pulling his jeans down and disregarding them on the floor. his hard cock springs up, slapping against his lower abdomen as he hisses slightly against his breath. pre-cum was already leaking on his slit, and you couldn’t help but smirk, only for wooyoung to groan when you wrap your smaller hand around his member before pumping him slowly. he bucks his hips forward, the tip of his cock smacking slightly against your lips—making you pout, trying to hide the grin on your face.

“so needy,” you tease, still pumping him at a slower pace. wooyoung squirms for a bit, and you click your tongue. “maybe if you behave for me, i’ll suck on your cock like a good girl.”

your dirty talk made wooyoung’s member throb even more, his veins pulsing as his muscles tensed. he moans, breathing heavily as he grips the sheets impatiently. “please, please, please,” he bites his lower lip. “please, y/n. suck me off like a good girl.”

the feeling of dominance made you aroused even more, as the wetness pools your panties. that doesn’t faze you, as you kept your eyes on wooyoung. “since you asked so nicely.” you respond, and it takes you time to lick the sides of his shaft, up to the tip, then you finally take him in your mouth. wooyoung lets out a low moan of your name, before hissing and groaning as you found a certain momentum. you grip on his thighs as you continue sucking his cock, gagging slightly when you’re met with his thrusts.

“that’s it,” wooyoung coos, throwing his head back as he moans. “that’s my best girl.”

you stay in that position, hollowing your cheeks as you feel him twitch inside of you. you graze your teeth slightly against his skin, taking him into the brim, throwing him off guard as he mutters profanities and praises under his breath.

when wooyoung felt like he was close to the edge, he put his hands on your shoulders before pushing you away slightly. you look up at him with a confused expression, a bit of saliva and pre-cum drooling from the corners of your mouth. he leans down, keeping his gaze steady with yours.

“i need to be inside you.” wooyoung announces, and you smile at him before pushing his hair back—wiping the sweat off his forehead.

you give him another kiss, “then fuck me senseless, jung wooyoung.”

this was all wooyoung needed to hear, and it sets something within him that seemed like you switched another persona. he pushes you back down on the bed, before taking your panties off. when he notices that the fabric was drenched with your wetness, he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath.

“why won’t you look at that? my best girl wet already?” he teases, and you glare at him, finding yourself getting impatient as you whine his name. “alright, alright.”

he uses his fingers to spread your folds, making you squirm at the sudden contact. he smirks, before testing the waters as he pushes 2 fingers inside of you. you moan loudly, arching your back but wooyoung shushes you, placing a hand on top of your tummy as he kisses the soft skin gently—pumping in and out while inserting a 3rd one.

when you are already stretched out, he pulls his fingers out before aligning the tip of his cock in your entrance. “if it gets too much, just tell me okay?” he whispers, and you nod, hooking your arms around his as he finally thrusts inside of you. the both of you let out strangled moans, and you can’t help but feel so full. wooyoung moves, fucking you achingly and teasingly slow for a moment, before finally picking up his pace.

“fuck, fuck, fuck! wooyoung!” 

with every thrust, you felt like you were brought into oblivion. your eyes roll at the back of your head in pleasure, nails raking his back as you cling unto him with your might. he kisses your neck, biting and sucking down on your skin—the feeling of overstimulation at the pits of your stomach. you meet his lips halfway, kissing him fervently as a tear slips off your cheek. wooyoung notices this, and he immediately slows down, before cupping your face with one hand as he frowns.

“why are you crying? am i going too rough?” he asks, worry lacing his voice, but you quickly shake your head no as you squeeze his bicep reassuringly.

“no, i’m okay, just keep going.”

so he does, and the following minutes were nothing but pure bliss. the way he thrusted into you deeply at a faster pace made your legs writhe in pleasure. your back arches as you continue to drag your nails down his back, as if marking him as yours. in between the passionate love making, you meet wooyoung’s gaze, and he gives you a smile before moaning again.

“i’m close…” you whimper, and he grunts, nodding.

“me too, baby,” he grumbles, catching his breath as his thrusts become sloppy. just when he was about to pull out, you stop him—shaking your head. he raises an eyebrow, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he hums. “what is it?”

“cum inside of me,” you tell him, and his eyes widen for a brief moment. “i’m on the pill, woo. it’s okay.”

he nods his head, and after a couple more thrusts, your body convulses as you orgasm, his name falling off your lips in a fit of moans. wooyoung comes after, and you hold his close while his warm release fills you to the brim. he presses one last kiss on your cheek as he withdraws, before he falls on the bed beside you, body now curved against yours.

this time, it was him who held you tight. the room had a smell so obvious to the aftermath of sex, and your sweaty bodies were pressed against each other while the soreness inside you started to seep in. neither one of you wanted to move and get up to take a shower, so you stay in that position for awhile—just your heavy breathing echoing around your bedroom.

“i love you.” the words slip off wooyoung’s lips so naturally, and upon hearing it, you tense.

all of the thoughts of wanting to be with him was threatening to be trashed at the back of your head again. suddenly, every want of commitment was flushed down the drain. here goes your indecisive thoughts once again—fucking you up more than earlier. you were sure you wanted to commit, but something was stopping you. you wanted to scream.

the fear grows inside of you again.

“y/n?” the worry in wooyoung’s tone was evident through the phone—and he sounded so out of breath that it didn’t take long for you to realize that he was running as if he was chasing after something. after someone. “y/n, where are you?” he asks, swallowing the lump in his throat. “why did the lady next door tell me you sold your apartment to someone else?”

“wooyoung,” you tried to keep steady breaths as your phone shook in your hand. “wooyoung, i’m sorry.”

“where the fuck are you?” he sounded so desperate, and the way his voice trembles made your heart sink. “y/n. stop this. whatever game you’re playing – this isn’t funny. come home. come back to me. whatever’s wrong—we can fix it. we can talk it out.”

“wooyoung–”

this was the first time you heard wooyoung in the brink of breaking down, and it sounded so evident through the phone that your chest tightened. “if this was about us, i’m sorry. was i moving too fast? did i do something you didn’t like? did i hurt you when we were–” he was rambling—and he was panic-stricken. nothing else seemed to register on his brain at the moment.

after a few moments, he breathes out, “was this about my confession?”

at this point, you started sobbing. “nothing’s wrong, wooyoung. i’m just… i’m still terrified.”

“you don’t have to worry about it, y/n. just please come back to me. i don’t need an answer now. you don’t have to say i love you back,” wooyoung pleads, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. “just come home.”

“i’ll just end up hurting you. you don’t deserve me. i can’t love you like this.”

“fuck, y/n! this is all bullshit, you’re already hurting me now! i told you it’s okay. i don’t care if you can’t give me an answer yet,” this time, wooyoung was already crying, and the way his sobs echoed on your speakers made you stop in your tracks as you grip the phone in your hand. “just tell me where you are and i’ll pick you up. turn on your gps for me baby, please.”

his pleads were left unanswered as you shake your head, tears streaming down your face as you stand in the middle of a busy airport.

“i’m sorry, woo.”

it takes a few more desperate pleads from wooyoung before you finally turn your phone off. the heaviness in your chest was unbearable, but you had no choice. you needed to take your attachment off him—you needed to fix yourself first. you didn’t know how long this ‘fixing’ would take, but you pray that if you cross paths with him again, he’s already healed from the pain you brought him.

i love you too, you thought, and the guilt of leaving wooyoung behind was fucking you up more than you thought it would. but i can’t love you now.

all rights reserved © to 99zmist.

[clodovia]

Sugar Cookies

Character: Hajime Iwaizumi x gn!reader

Word Count: 676

a/n: this wasn’t proofread! I just wrote what came to mind...

AO3 Link

Network: @hanayanetwork ​

My piece for the network’s Holiday Collab!

Large snowflakes fell from the dark, nighttime sky landing onto Iwaizumi’s windshield where they melted upon touching the glass. He had been on the road for far too long for it being so late at night. His head falls back against the headrest of his seat. A groan escapes him as he impatiently waits for the traffic light to change colors. If those idiots would actually listen and not stay late to continuously practice he wouldn’t be on the road this late in the first place. If it was Oikawa, he’d just drag him out of the gym like he used to when the two of them were younger, but these guys weren’t his childhood friend. As his car went into motion once again, his thoughts traveled to you. He hoped you didn’t stay up and wait for him. He’d feel guilty if he found you sitting on the couch doing whatever it took to keep yourself awake.

Finally pulling up to your shared home, Iwaizumi grabbed his things before quietly unlocking the front door. Stepping inside sent a welcoming warmth through his body.  Even though the house was dark, he could see the warm glow of the fireplace coming from the living room. Toeing off his shoes, he sets his belongings in their place before stepping through the threshold of the kitchen where his gaze is met with the dim glow of a candle. Partially under the glass jar, the candle was inside was a note with your handwriting. 

“I’m sure you’re feeling a little snacky after your long day”

Besides the note and candle was a small plate of sugar cookies. With a small smile, he picked one up to take a bite. Even before taking a bite, he knew you had just made these. The cookie was still soft in his hold and the taste was warm and inviting. Iwaizumi’s eyes closed as he savored the rest of the cookie. Every time you make your sugar cookies it sends him back to when the two of you were younger. When you were too shy to speak to him, but always surprised him with a bag of sugar cookies at his desk waiting for him before class or in his locker at the end of the day before practice. He never knew how you managed to sneak your little gift of sugar cookies to him without getting caught. Although, he had an inkling that the teachers would lie for you, finding your crush on the volleyball ace endearing. Or Oikawa managed to find out and agreed to help you by getting into Iwaizumi’s locker to plant the bag of sugar cookies. 

With a warm smile plastered to his face, Iwaizumi picked the plate up off the counter before he went off to search for you. Although the search didn’t take very long as he found you curled up on the armchair closest to the fireplace. Your legs were covered by a blanket and the book you had been reading was threatening to fall off your lap. Setting the plate of cookies down on the side table next to the couch, Iwaizumi came over and saved your book including the page your thumb was holding your book open at. Setting the book onto the armrest, he brings his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Y/n,” he spoke quietly, voice rumbling in his chest.

He couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escapes him from seeing how sound asleep you are. Carefully, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you up to your shared room. Gently placing you on the bed, the blanket you used in the living room still wrapped around your legs. Iwaizumi was quick to get ready, going through his usual night routine before joining you in bed. Getting under the covers, he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you to him.

“Thank you for the late-night snack,” he mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before closing his eyes as sleep overtakes him. 

©2021 CLODOVIA | do not repost, copy, edit or claim any of my works as your own. just don’t plagiarize it’s not that hard please.

[unkownknowledge]

This post is a sort of collaboration with @golden-wingseos who is kindly letting me use their toxic traits post as a base for writing some Fluff! Check 'em out! Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Albedo might be a OOC. This is my first attempt at more serious writing. And of course you should always remember that problems in a relationship might need more than a short talk.

Edit: request are open, if anyone reading this likes it feel free to request. Rules are pinned.

Now onto my post:

_____________________

Albedo: your heart is real

_____________________________

-you knew Albedo's secret, you knew his feelings, you knew enough to know he didn't want to love you.

-yet he did.

-you also believed he shouldn't be chained to someone else's wishes, especially when it wouldn't bring him happiness.

You were sitting in Albedo's lap, your head on his shoulder as you gently played with his hair.

"I'm going to destroy monstadt you know," he said, like he always does in an attempt to push you away, "that includes the people"

"Then I'll just stop you." You reply calmly.

"Then I'll have to kill you."

"So then you won't destroy monstadt."

Albedo was confused, you usually told him you would stop him but you've never said he wouldn't do it to begin with.

Albedo grabbed your shoulders and made you look at him, "what does that mean? Why wouldn't I destroy monstadt?"

"Because you would have to kill me." You said smiling.

'That damn smile' he thought, "why would I not destroy monstadt, not fulfill my master's wish, just because you would need to die?"

"Because you love me."

Albedo pushed you off and got on top of you, holding a knife to your throat, "would someone who loved you so this?"

"Yes" you never stopped smiling at him.

"Exa-wait what?" Albedo was dumbfounded, not comprehending what you meant.

"You're trying to push me away," you grabbed his shaking hands and pushed them down, causing him to release the knife, "because you don't want to feel any remorse, because you don't want to hurt me."

"Who says-"

"And I know you don't want to destroy monstadt," you grabbed his head and brought him closer, "because you love it there."

"I'm not real, I'm just a tool my master made to carry out their dreams. Stop treating me like a person."

"But you are a person, and as a person you can choose what you want."

"Well I want monstadt destroyed!"

"Even if that meant killing me?"

Albedo was shocked, he never felt conflicted before. Not in following his master's wishes, but now? At your words? He doubted every desire he's had.

You placed his hand on his heart, "feel that?"

"That's my heart..."

"So your heart is real. Now tell me, what does a tool need with a heart?"

Albedo didn't answer.

"Your master might want to destroy monstadt, but who says they want you to? Why give a weapon a heart?"

You didn't give Albedo time to respond before you kissed him.

"Your heart is real. Just like your love for me."

Albedo sat up and pulled you back into his lap, "you're an anomaly you know that? No one else can make me feel this way." He looked into your eyes and put his hands on your cheeks, "I guess I can hold off on destroying monstadt, atleast until I conclude my research on you."

"Well, let's start experimenting."

_____________________________

Hope that didn't suck.

_____________________________

Diluc: you'll get hurt if you love me

_____________________________

-Diluc has been avoiding you for a month now, he hasn't even gone out to do his darkknight hero duties.

-he's just locked himself away in his manor, ordering his servants to not let you in.

-Diluc, however, forgets that you met because you tried stealing from his house.

You were fed up with Diluc, he kept pushing you away and now he has CROSSED THE LINE! You're going to break into his room and make him explain why he's been avoiding you, it's been a year since you and him went on a date and now this? Something is seriously wrong.

You climbed up to the window sill and lock picked your way in, you walked over to Diluc's bed and sat down, waiting for him to return.

Diluc entered the door and, without looking, fell on his bed right next to you.

"You look tired, almost like you took the long way home just to avoid the route I take."

Diluc shot up and looked at you in shock.

You crossed you arms over your chest, "I want an explanation."

"(Y/n) what do you m-"

"You know full well! And don't call me (y/n)! You always call me 'dearest' or 'honey's, in fact you do a lot of things you seem to have forgotten about, like dinners, and tea times, and DATES!"

"Please I-"

"No! No running away, no excuses!" You grabbed his shoulders and turned him to you, "why the hell are you avoiding me!?"

Diluc looked up and saw you were crying. This isn't what he wanted, this is the opposite of what he wanted!

Diluc looked away, unable to face you, "Because I want you to hate me."

Your eyes widened, "w-what?"

"I want you to leave me, in a way that won't make you sad to leave me."

"Why!?"

"BECAUSE YOU'LL GET HURT IF YOU LOVE ME!"

You jumped at him and held him close, and yourself closer, "idiot."

"What?"

"I said," you managed between sobs, "your an idiot, Diluc. I knew full well what I was doing when I fell in love with you, and I did it anyway. What-what gi-gives you the right t-to abandon me now?"

Diluc was shocked to say the least, he didn't know what to say.

"I know how dangerous being near you is, how many enemies you have, how likely I am to die, but Diluc," you look up at him with tear stained eyes, "I won't be able to live another day, not without you in it."

Diluc pulled you onto his lap and held you, enveloping as much as he could.

"(Y/n)- honey, I'm sorry," he cried in your hair, "I'm so sorry, so very very sorry. I just wanted to protect you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you got hurt because of me."

"But you did hurt me, you hurt my heart."

"I know.. but please," he tilted you head so your eyes would meet his, "let me heal it."

_____________________________

Kaeya: no more secrets

_____________________________

I wrote this perfectly but the draft didn't save. If it's bad blame my rage.

_____________________________

Another day without you.

Another day spent drinking.

Kaeya remembered that day clearly, more clearly than he wanted.

Kaeya was happily walking home to you.

He was always happy on the way home, but he was happiest when he saw your smile. Lately though you've been acting strangely, he was going to talk to you about it today.

"Honey I'm home-" he stopped, it was quiet.

You were never quiet.

He decided you were just out, so he waited.

And waited.

And wait-

"Where are you?"

Kaeya reached for his drink, but he couldn't find it.

"Eh Dilc, wers meh ferkin dernk!?"

Diluc sighed, "sober up."

Kaeya slammed his hands on the bar and grabbed Diluc by the collar, "WAH SHELD AH BEH SURBER!? WAHTS DA FEKEN PEINT IB TAY AIN ERE WID MEH!?"

Kaeya fell backwards and cried, "wad tay lev meh Dilc?"

Diluc sighed and walked around the bar to his brother, "sober up," he picked Kaeya up, "and I'll tell you."

Diluc carried Kaeya to the winery.

Next day

Kaeya woke up with a scream, "(Y/N) WAIT!"

He looked around and saw he was in an unfamiliar bedroom.

Diluc walked in with water and breakfast, "are you sober?"

Kaeya held his head, "I wish I wasn't."

"Well you'll want to be," Diluc set his brother's breakfast down on the nightstand, "I'm going to tell you how to get (y/n) back."

Kaeya jumped at his brother, knocking them both to the ground as he held the red head's throat, "WHERE ARE THEY?!"

Diluc calmly pushed Kaeya off, who was weak as hell right now, "calm down, you need you to understand why they left or they'll just leave you again."

Kaeya just laid there.

"Good. Now listen because this is something it took me a long time to realize too: communication is key to a relationship."

"What?"

"Did you ever tell (y/n) anything about your work? About your dealings in the dark? About your 'off the clock projects'?"

Kaeay didn't speak.

"I thought so. Kaeya you need to talk to them about your life, if you don't you'll just drive them away."

"BUT I ALREADY DID!" Kaeya shouted as he slammed his fist on the ground.

"True, but I can bring you to them. But you have to swear you'll tell them EVERYTHING."

Kaeya nodded.

Diluc and Kaeya took a trip to Liyue, to a remote village you were living in.

"They're in here. Remember Kaeya, no secrets."

You opened the door at Kaeya's knocking, before immediate closing it.

"Go away Kaeya."

"(Y/n) please, I want to make amends."

"How? Batting your eyelashes? A kiss on the cheek? Sex? Well? What have you come up with as a substitute to trust this time?"

"No. No substitute, no lies, none of that. I'm here to tell you the truth (y/n)."

You opened the door, "no more secrets?"

"No, darling, no more secrets."

_____________________________

Childe: you give me strength

_____________________________

Childe met you when you first joined the fatui, and from the first day he was smitten. You always strived to get better, never once did your lack if vision keep you from being powerful nor keep you from getting more powerful. You were his ideal person for him.

But you didn't feel like it.

You always worried, 'what if I lost? What if I can't get stronger? What if I'm weak?' Were constant thoughts going through your head. You knew Childe was greedy for power, how he wanted nothing but power, how he would do anything for it, and as far as you were aware he cut off anything that held him back.

Even you.

You pushed yourself to far everytime you trained, to the point you were getting weaker by how little time you took to recuperate. But you never realized nor did you let anyone know out fear for what Childe would do if he saw you being so insecure in yourself.

You realized you were getting weaker and weaker, and that scared you, scared you to the point you decided to take drastic measures.

You decided you would prove how strong you are.

With Childe

Childe sighed as he wrote yet another debt collection warrant, he was tired from the month long mission he just got back from and now he had to do this. He decided he would indulge himself and pamper you when he got home, after all nothing pleased him more than seeing your constantly stern face blush and smile as he showered you in gifts and affection. And while he wasn't exactly good at reading people in an emotional sense, even he could tell you were insecure about something so he wanted to talk to you about it, maybe even introduce you to his family.

He wad actually getting lost in happy thoughts when a collector ran in, "HARBINGER! I HAVE URGENT NEWS!"

Childe glared at him, "what is it, I was thinking about my snow flower!"

"IT'S ABOUT THEM SIR!"

Childe snapped the pen between his fingers and stoop, "what happened."

"Sir they-"

"WHAT HAPPENED!"

"SIR! (Y/N) HAS GONE OFF TO TRY AND SLAY A GEO REGISVINE!"

Childe immediately bolted over his desk and sped through the bank, out of the harbor, and across the country of Liyue at speeds lost would think belonged to Baal themself.

He got to the regisvine just in time to block an attack that would have killed you.

It took him mere seconds to completely demolish it.

Childe approached your crumpled form, you could barely move and your bones were probably all broken.

"Ch-chi-lde..." you got out before blacking out from pain.

Next day

You woke up, everything below your chin was in a caste and you felt about as bad as you looked.

"Let me through!" You heard the one voice you didn't want to hear right now.

"Sir please they have to r-"

"DID I FUCKING STUTTER!"

A doctor was flung through the door and Childe charges right at you.

'This is it,' you thought, closing your eyes, 'he's going to cast me away, like I always knew-'

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of lips against your own, and a wet feeling against your cheeks.

You opened your eyes in time to see Childe pull away from you, "what were you thinking you idiot?"

You looked at Childe, dumbfounded.

"WHY DID YOU DO SOMETHING THAT STUPID!?"

"W-what?"

"Why did you try and kill a regisvine on your own?!"

You looked away.

"WHY (Y/N)!? WHY!?"

"Because I don't want you to leave me..."

Childe recoiled at that, what did you mean you didn't want him to leave you?

"Why in the world would I want to leave you? Your my snow flower."

"Yes but..." you didn't want to say it.

"Come on, snow flower," Childe put his fingers under your chin and gently made you meet his gaze, "you can tell me anything."

"You...you only care for power...and I could tell I was only getting weaker no matter how much I tried, I was....I was afraid....afraid you would leave me...."

"(Y/n)," Childe said lovingly, yet with obvious sadness, "please, I dont want power just for power's sake.... I'm so sorry that I seemed that way to you."

"But you always seem so...dedicated to getting power..."

"Yes, but power is simply a means to an end," Childe chuckles, "I have a family, with a lot of siblings, and I care about all of them. I do so much for them, and every bit of power: be it with more, status, or pure power they are what drives me to get it. I'll admit though that it has developed into a bit of a....addiction, I guess you could call it, to battle and by extension to getting stronger. I-I didn't realize how much I let that take over-"

"No!" You shout, "no! Don't apologize for that. That's why I love you: your drive for power, your willingness to never settle, everything you do you do for power. I don't care if it's because you like battle or you like your family, because I love it. I love you. And I don't want to hold you back, and because of that I didn't want to be so weak that you had to....dispose of me..."

Childe kneeled besides you, "(y/n). You never have to worry about holding me back. Remember what you said? Even if I do, granted in a much smaller part than I originally stated, want power to protect my family, it is also very true that I want power for nothing more than to have it. But you could never hold me back from that, in fact you give me strength, (y/n)."

You chuckled, "that's so cheesey Childe."

"Well it's true, and the only thing more true is this:" Childe leans towards you, "I. Love. You."

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole Reflections Part 1

About a year and a few months ago I finished my first novel, Down the Rabbit Hole, a 220k word monster of a book that I managed somehow to crank out in a little over 8 months, and now today I’ve finished content editing on the first part. 

My writing and editing process is fairly simple. Before I start writing, I always produce a detailed outline of the plot, usually between 2000 and 3000 words long, and when I write I follow that pretty closely. I find that this really helps cut down on the amount of editing I have to do, because most of the time I no longer need to edit for plot but instead just content and copy. There are always times when I move away from the outline, but I’m usually pretty good about going back and revising the outline whenever that happens. Having a plan is really important. I usually find creating the outline to be the most difficult part of writing a story, as it requires the most creativity. All of the micro work, of actually writing the story, that is, flows pretty easily.

As far as editing goes, if there’s anything I’m certain I want to change I do it right after I finish the story. A lot of people will say you need to wait for a while so you can let it be fresh, but I find that as I write I usually end up reflecting on things I’ve written earlier and sometimes I come to conclusions about things that could have been done differently and I find that it’s best to strike while the anvil is hot. After that, I do a really quick once-over for copy editing and proofreading, and then I let it sit for a year.

After the year’s up, I come back to the story and go through it again for content editing, which is what I’m in the process of now. The first part went pretty smoothly; there weren’t a ton of major changes, although there are a few here and there, but mainly it was minor things, words and sentences here and there, rewriting things, fixing things, etc. Perhaps the biggest change I made was the removal of the sex scene during the flashback. Ever since I published that chapter people had kind of been rolling their eyes at it, so to save myself some grief I reworked it into something more sexy but less erotic. I don’t think I necessarily needed to change it, but of all the parts in the book that are sort of call-outs to the kind of thriller novel I wanted to write, that one was a little too on the nose. It would have flown if I kept it I think but it works better without. Plus I think without it all of the sex in part two might feel a little different, or less cheap etc.

I do know that parts 2 and 3 will receive more major reworks, I already have a couple sections in mind that’ll require big rewrites, but those are still a ways off.

One thing that I do think about frequently is that just due to the nature of publishing this stuff a chapter at a time online, when you do have to go back and edit things there are dozens of people who are basically forever out of the loop about it unless they go back and reread or you are exceptionally loud about notifying everyone of the changes you’re making. At the same time, it’s unrealistic to expect that everything comes out perfect with no edits. I could maybe do that if I wrote a year in advance, but getting onto a schedule like that would require a year’s worth of hiatus and I don’t really want to put up with that. I’m already adding an extra couple of months of downtime onto this year, for example, so I can start my next novel in January of 23 rather than August of this year like I normally do, and already that feels like too much downtime.

Down the Rabbit Hole was a really interesting experience for me. I think that, ironically, it’s one of the more literary things I’ve written in a long time, at least in the sense of it being character-driven vs plot-driven. Ironic because I was trying to write a thriller novel, but I was too attached to the whole character study concept I had started out with. I added a preface chapter onto the book on AO3 explaining some of my thoughts behind that; I have no idea what other people think of it, or if they even care. I have seen a lot of concepts kind of missing the notion that it’s supposed to be a thriller novel, though, and I think that’s mainly due to how Roan is constructed and portrayed. In hindsight, I think her character needed to evolve as my conception of the novel as a whole evolved, and it didn’t. It’s not egregious, but it’s enough of a disjoint that people are getting confused about it. 

But at the same time I get plenty of comments talking about how they love the story, so I don’t know. I like to think that what I was trying to accomplish with it is clear enough but it’s so hard to tell. 

Working with a creator like Trevor Roberts on this novel (even if it was in a rather limited capacity) was a really cool experience. Even today I’m really impressed at the incredibly strong vision he had for the whole Mystery Flesh Pit concept and all the new stuff he’s put out about it is really fascinating. He told me one time about another concept he had that I found really fascinating, and I hope he returns to it sometime. A whole story / idea about a hotel, but with a big twist. Don’t want to say more than that. I do kind of feel like I didn’t make a great impression on him, unfortunately, but I was very deeply involved in the story and going through personal stuff at the same time so I was kind of emotionally erratic while I was writing it, which I think helped creatively but probably didn’t endear me to him too much lmao. 

I did always kind of wish that the story got a little more solid or long-lasting official recognition, although I think that’s mostly selfishness talking. I believe on the main page there’s a link to it in the subtext to one of the images? There used to be a pinned post on the reddit board for the project but I think that got removed or deleted for some reason, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s still floating somewhere in the discord server? Not sure. It does have a pretty decent influx of new readers every week but I’m not entirely certain how they’re actually finding it.

I did always have an idea for an official post that could have been made to tie everything together - you could frame Roan as an in-universe novelist and have the actual artifact be a letter from Slippin’ Jim to her being very crochety and over the top about all the errors she made in the novel, lmao. I know that’s being very greedy but I did always kind of wish that it got tied in somehow like that and immortalized that way. But why should I get that kind of treatment? There was a time maybe when I could have asked for that, but I’m no longer the only writer working with the property, so why would I get special treatment?

Writing Down the Rabbit Hole was a really great experience. For one thing, I think it really helped me crystalize a lot of the concepts I’d been toying with about people and characters by doing the whole deep dive into Roan’s character that I ended up going with, and having all those thoughts be more solidified now is really useful to me as a writer. It’s really gratifying to have so many people looking at it and gushing about it. I do have ideas for a sequel, but that’s going to be in 2024, I have a sci fi story I want to write next year. 2024 is definite, though, it’s an idea I’ve been kicking around for a while and I think it’s going to be a lot of fun.