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heyitsspiders · 2 months

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Lucifer x Transmasc! Reader - Falling for the Fallen Angel - Chapter 2

Just You and Me

Lucifer comes over more often, but this time it's only you two in the hotel.

Lucifer sure kept his word, he was there at least once a week. He always made sure to call Charlie in the morning and arrive later that evening to give you plenty of time to cook. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason, it was to let everyone know he’d be there so it's not a surprise.

He’d come by and see how everything was going and chat with Charlie until dinner was ready. Then you’d seat him and he’d eat with everyone else, always making sure to give you some sort of indication that he enjoyed the food. It was nice to know the King of Hell enjoyed your cooking, and you couldn’t help your heart from fluttering every time he’d give you one of his silent compliments.

Today you were watching some show Angel recommended to you. It was another romance show that used any and every excuse to get the characters to fuck. It wasn’t your cup of tea but you wanted to watch at least a few episodes to see if it got better. Your mind kept wandering back to Lucifer. Sometimes he showed up without his overcoat, showing his pink and white gatsby vest and his white long-sleeved undershirt. He’d roll up the sleeves, showing off his dark forearms. You usually had to not look at him for too long.

Wait.

Were you falling for Lucifer? No, no, you were just happy he liked the food. And that’s only important to you because he rules Hell.

Yeah.

Totally.

Charlie startled you out of your thoughts with a light touch on your shoulder.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” She apologized with a hint of guilt present on her face.

“You’re good!” You reassure her. “Did you need something?”

“No, I just came to tell you that my dad will be around later. I told him me and Vaggie have a date tonight but he insisted on coming over anyways.”

“I’ll start preparing then!” You got up from the couch, turning off the TV. “Oh, and I hope you and Vaggie have fun.”

Charlie smiled at you, “Okay, I’m going to get ready for tonight, good luck!” And with that she was off to her room.

As you walked you wondered why Lucifer would want to be here if Charlie wasn’t here. Wasn’t that the whole point of his visits? You shrugged it off, maybe he was helping around the hotel or doing something for Charlie. Either way, none of your business.

You entered the kitchen and got to work. Charlie had started to become more laid back with what you were to cook so you got to decide what you’d make for Lucifer. You’d had quite a hard week mentally, the realization of you being dead set in more and more with each passing day your headaches increased as you tried to remember what your life had been. You had a feeling you’d never know. You wanted to give up, no use thinking about now that you’re dead but it just wouldn’t leave your mind.

You sighed and hoped Lucifer wouldn’t mind a simple dinner as you downed some painkillers and got to work.

While you couldn’t remember a lot, you did regain the memory of you making yourself breakfast when you were sad or having a hard time. It was something that calmed you down and you needed that right now. You cracked some eggs, got some bacon and whipped up some dough until you had a pretty good dinner, or well, breakfast. You carefully organized the foods onto separate plates before carrying a few at a time to set on the table. You sighed contently, looking over at your work as you exited the dining room and went down the hall to the lobby.

Where was everyone?

You facepalmed. Everyone was gone. Alastor was out at an overlord meeting, Sir Pentious was out with his egg guys, Charlie and Vaggie were on the aforementioned date, and Angel Dust and Husk went to a bar. You gulped. That meant it’d just be you and-

Suddenly the doors opened and in walked the man of the hour. Lucifer smiled a toothy grin at you, “Hello!”

“Hello, Lucifer!” You replied, trying to give him a smile back but your heart was pounding in your ears.

“I heard it’s just us tonight, how exciting,” Lucifer said smoothly, as if it was nothing. “Here, have this.”

He handed you a.. Rubber duck? It had a little chef hat.

“Take it as a thank you for all the delicious meals.”

“Oh, thank you!” You said as you looked back at him before focusing on the duck once more. You gently squeezed it and it squeaked in response. Adorable.

You turned your focus back on Lucifer, “Come, I’ve made us dinner.” You said as you led the way to the dining room.

He followed, once you reached the door you held it open for him. You waited for him to move to his chair but instead he pulled a seat for you to sit in.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat, come, relax.” He said in a soothing voice.

You didn’t typically eat when everyone else ate, you felt like it was rude. You accepted his invitation and sat down as he pushed in the chair. He sat in his normal spot, which you were now sitting beside.

“Breakfast, huh? I think it’s a little late for that,” He joked before bringing a few pancakes to his plate followed by a few sausages.

“I’m sorry it isn’t as grand as it normally is. I wanted to do something a little easier,” You explained sheepishly. Lacking on the job already.

“Oh? What, didn’t want to put in all the effort for little ol’ me?” He teased before taking a neat bite of his food.

Your stomach felt like it was going to explode. “That’s not it, sir-”

He raised a hand and laughed, “I know, you’re okay. After all, it’s just the two of us. Any more food and it’d be a waste.”

You let out a sigh of relief as you took a few small portions of the dinner you prepared. Your hands were shaky as you took a bite, Lucifer’s gaze sliding over you. You swallowed hard.

“So, how has my daughter’s hotel been treating you?” Lucifer asked as he swallowed another bite.

“Good, the residents are cool and Charlie is so sweet,” You responded before eating more.

“I’d expect nothing less from my daughter,” He smiled.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the only noise being the clinking of utensils to the plate as you two ate. Lucifer took a napkin and dabbed his mouth with it.

“Another fantastic meal,” He said as he set his napkin down and looked at you.

Your heart could have exploded right then and there. “Thank you, Lucifer.” You mumbled quietly, scared if you talked too loudly your thoughts would run out.

He raised an eyebrow at your behavior before smiling, “Now,” he began as he stood up, pushing in his chair. “Everyone else has decided to leave the hotel, so why don’t we join them?”

You looked up at him.

“Like, go out and… Do something?” You questioned. Was he serious?

“If you’d like!” He offered you his hand. “I’d like to put more of an effort into getting to know Charlie’s friends, and who better to start with than the one who creates the amazing meals.”

Yes, of course. Obviously. He was going to do this with everyone else. Now your heart needed to stop beating a million times a second. You took his hand and stood. Before you knew it he pulled you to him and through a portal. You blinked several times as you looked around. You weren’t in the hotel anymore, where were you?

Oh wait, you knew this place. This was the city! It’d been awhile since you’d been here, the crimson sky laid hauntingly in the sky as always. You looked at Lucifer, amusement in his eyes.

“I don’t go out much, so I don’t really know what people do for fun,” He laughed awkwardly. “However, you can’t go wrong with buying things.”

Shopping? You pat your pockets frantically. “Shit, bring me back to the hotel, I don’t-”

Lucifer held up a hand, “Oh please, money is nothing to me. Don’t worry about it.” He leaned against his apple-topped cane, “Now, what place looks interesting to you?”

You felt guilty but looked around from where you stood. Then, it caught your eye. You pointed to it, a simple toy shop. Lucifer looked over at it before staring at you, yanking at his collar.

“Oh-ho boy, uh, are you sure?”

You nodded, you needed more stuff for your room and you figured it’d have some interesting nick-nacks. Why was this such a weird thing? Was it because you were an adult? He seemed to be avoiding eye contact and you worried that you did something wrong but nonetheless you two made your way across the street.

Lucifer did his best to keep his composure but as you two got closer, his facade was falling. He grabbed your arm as you pushed open the door.

“Look, uh, I’ll stay out here, just tell me how much money you need.”

You blinked at him, “Uhm, okay? I’ll just come back out and tell you when I find something that looks neat.”

He let you go and you went inside.

You then came right back out, your face bright red.

“That is NOT what I wanted.”

Lucifer looked at you puzzled before bursting out laughing. “Oh my golly- You-” He tried to speak as he continued laughing at you. You buried your warm face in your hands, humiliation overwhelming you.

After a while of embarrassment and Lucifer laughing at your mix-up, he finally calmed down.

“Golly, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while,” he said with a chuckle, wiping a stray tear away from his eye. “Now, come, I can lead you to the place you were looking for.”

You awkwardly followed, your eyes never leaving the concrete side-walk. This was hell, of course it’d be a store full of sex toys. You really should have taken the name “Valentino Toys” and thought about it for more than a second. You were pretty sure Angel had mentioned his boss was Valentino, and considering what Angel Dust did for work you should have put two and two together. Either way, you followed Lucifer down a few streets before bumping into him as he stopped.

“Ah sorry-” You mumbled as you looked over the store in front of you.

“Here, you’ll have much better luck finding what you were looking for,” Lucifer teased as he opened the door for you.

You walked inside and looked around, your eyes widening in awe. It was huge, several shelves stocked to the brim with figurines, stuffed animals, posters and other various small trinkets. It was like a little kid's dream.

After at least an hour of vibrating from shelf to shelf, you finally grabbed a few things, a plush of your favorite animal and a few other things to put on your shelves. As you checked out and watched the total rise you felt intense guilt creep over you. Oh no. Did he think that you were using him? You’d have to make it up to him, you didn’t want to leech off of him. You grabbed your bags and gave Lucifer a good handful of apologies as the two of you walked out. You two continued to walk around the city, the crimson sky darkening and the lights turning on. It was strangely beautiful as the two of you walked. You both stopped at a park, resting on the park benches and falling into a comfortable silence as you watched the strange Hell fish swim in the pond. It was peaceful, which was strange considering you are literally in Hell.

As the sky darkened further, exhaustion crept into your body. This was around the time you went to bed. You yawned, stretching.

Lucifer looked over at you, “Time to leave?”

“Unfortunately,” you said with another yawn. You’d love to continue this hang out but you really needed to sleep. You still had to work.

He stood up and offered a hand, which you took and stood up. Once your feet were on the ground you were being pulled back to the hotel through a golden portal. You rubbed your eyes at the sudden bright lights of the interior.

“This was fun, hopefully we can do this again sometime,” he said with a smile.

You could feel the burning make its way back onto your face. You nodded, “Yeah, it was.”

“Look I’m really sorry-” You started but you were swiftly shut up by Lucifer pulling you into his embrace.

You blinked in surprise before returning the hug, any guilt from earlier melting away in his arms. You didn’t want to let go as the scent of crisp honey apples drifted around you.

“You apologize too much, darling,” he said kindly, his smile soft as he pulled away.

You mourned the loss of his warmth as he walked away, “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

He turned to you once more, that pretty smile aimed for you as he disappeared. You walked back to your room and set down your bags before falling onto your bed, your face growing red as you recounted the day’s events. The faint scent of crisp honey apples stuck to your clothes. You breathed in the smell as you drifted to sleep, thoughts of the King of Hell dancing throughout your mind.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #reader insert #x reader #transmasc reader #no y/n

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winterlogysblog · 2 months

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4KOTA FANFIC

Title: Couldn't possibly know the feeling

Summary: After Lancelot's disappearance King had a small chat with Ban

Note: Very Short. I wrote this just now and it's unedited so there will be grammar mistakes.

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It's been weeks after Lancelot's disappearance and Ban never stopped, he never gave up on his search for his son. He would drown himself in alcohol just to forget the guilt and painful ache in his chest. Elaine is growing more concerned as days go by so she asks his brother to pay them a visit. Ban and King may look like they don't get along but they do care about each other, they're all friends after all.

King accepted and once he got there Ban immediately invited him over for a drink, clearly already drunk off his ass. King sighed and took a seat next to him as Ban clumsily poured him a drink.

“I’d be careful if I were you, you might actually die from alcohol poisoning, and you can die now, you’re mortal.” King said.

“I know.” Ban grumbled.

“Elaine is extremely worried about you and we are too.” King took a sip from his drink.

Ban tsked. “Just shut up and drink.”

King sighs, “Listen, I know it's tough but you have to put some faith in Lancelot. For such a young boy he’s quite capable, besides Jericho's with him right, surely she wouldn't let anything harm him.”

“Easy for you to say.” Band growled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said It's easy for you to say!!!” Ban shouted, slamming his mug on the table.

“It's not like it's your kid that went missing!!!”

King's eyes widened and for a moment and a pained laugh escaped his mouth.

“You couldn't possibly know the feeling of losing your child!!! So don't come here and tell me this shit!!”

King lowered his head and taking a deep breath he stood up from his seat.

“You're right, I’m sorry Ban.”

He chuckled. “I'm supposed to comfort you as Elaine said but it seems like I did the opposite, I’ll be going back now.”

Ban noticed there's a sudden change in King's demeanour but he couldn't quite pinpoint what it is. He's too drunk and angry to care anyway.

Elaine rushed in just in time to see King leave the room.

“I heard shouting. It didn't go well, did it?”

“No.” King shook his head. “I just made him mad, sorry about that.”

“Big brother… What happened?” Elaine spoke softly as she flew closer to King.

“Why are you crying?” Elaine asked as she wiped down the tears that were falling from his eyes.

“Big Brother.” Elaine’s hands tremble as her hands go down to his shoulders. “Please... Say something, or at least let me read your heart."

Elaine took a moment and she gasped upon hearing everything.

King painfully laughed. “Looks like I can't hide this from you anymore can't I."

“Hey! Stop it!! This is no laughing matter.”

“Elaine, it's alright.” King smiled. “It's already been 10 years, there's no way I can find him now. I even accepted the worst, still I can't help but hope.”

Elaine's vision started to get blurry as tears started pooling from her eyes. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I couldn't possibly disturb you, everyone is busy with their own lives.”

“But what about now, I asked you and everyone for help.”

“This is different.”

“How is this different?”

“The kids are much bigger now, they can handle themselves. Granted they're still children but… you know what I mean.”

With a sigh, King stepped forward. “I’ll be leaving now. If you want I can drop by again. I’ll probably bring Sixtus with me. He seems to enjoy hanging around with Ban."

Just as King left and flew away, Ban stepped outside of the room and asked. “What did you two talk about?”

Elaine turned around to meet her husband in the eyes. “Hey Ban, did you know why Harlequin changed Galehaut’s name to Mertyl?”

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konohamaru-sensei · 6 months

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"I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you." | Jellal X Erza

WOO, I finally finished this thing I wrote a week ago. Go me! I decided to go very lose with these prompts and use them as inspiration and not direct quotes. Anyway

1776 words

Rated G

For Jerza Week Day 4: War, if I am not too late :D

Fairy Tail Fantasy AU

quick fantasy au overview: jellal is king of the fiore kingdom, wendy is his sister, born with the red lines on his face is seen as cursed erza is grown at court but not royal and head of his army the ice emperor is exactly who you think it is to avoid war jellal got engaged to the daughter of the heartfilia estate (lucy) to gain further funding and influcence, in hope to deter the ice kingdom (this evidently did not work out) neither jellal nor lucy actually want to have a relationship, they marry for convenience (there is a lot LOT more but this is not important for this story, but please come and chat me up about it xD)

He bit the skin on the outside of his finger, tapping his foot on the ground beneath him. The map in front of him draped with little wooden figures that were wearing the same symbol he was wearing over the side of his face, the red long lines that had marked him once he had been very small. Red was in his future, they’d said when he was born and this red, most likely, was approaching faster than he had wanted to.

Jellal could taste the blood on his tongue and he finally pulled his pointer finger away from his teeth, but his foot tapped more aggressively on the stone floor than before. Even in the last minutes of the previous meeting he had barely been able to listen, his heartbeat strong in his ears with nerves. He had asked if there was no way around it all, but only got heads shaking and shoulders shrugging.

War, for sure, brought the tears and the grief and the red of blood. That was his destiny after all, that was what everybody had said. Still, he had held on to the vague hope that he might be able to put it off. Build up a Fiore's military might enough that the Ice Emperor didn’t feel it in himself to expand.

Jellal let out a deep breath and then banged his fist to the table. That was the reason he had gotten engaged after all, to make sure the income was flowing a little easier, to build up defences and yet, the Ice Kingdom was still invading and the war was still coming.

Maybe he should have been ready for all of this, since it was literally a prophecy given at his own birth, when his father stared at his cursed face and frowned, or at least that was what all the older maids in the castle said. “The prince is cursed”, they’d whisper when they’d think Jellal wasn’t in earshot. Always, wherever he went it followed him. He was good, he was amiable, he was even regarded handsome by some, but most just looked at him as a cursed item– well so it was. Eventually he went and saw a witch to ask him if it was true, if the mark on his phase meant a curse. Slowly she followed the lines of his face with her long, cold fingernail and then she said. “There is red in your future.”

Back then he was young and shrugged it off as just a stupid sentence, but the older he got and the larger the Ice Kingdom expanded the more aware he got that it meant war. Red was the blood that would be spilled, maybe on both sides, to end this conflict.

All of this might have not happened if he hadn’t been born cursed, he thought, or if he hadn’t been born at all. His little sister, after all, seemed much more fit to rule than him.

“Nervous, lord?” A voice spoke from the backside of the room and it echoed from the walls directly into Jellal’s heart. He looked up and his heart pulled together for a moment.

By the door was Erza Scarlet, her helmet pressed under her arm next to her sword. She kept her hair in a ponytail when she was working, because the length of it would get in the way, especially with the helmet on her face. She smiled a little, eyes shining as always when she saw him and he wanted to drop everything to run to her, as he always did when she looked at him.

“I don’t like the idea of a war,” he said truthfully. “I wished this had never happened.”

Erza walked forward. No other knight in his guard moved in his presence without Jellal allowing it, but Erza was different, she was not only the head of his army, but had also known him ever since he could think. She had all his trust and was all his skill.

She was everything, and Jellal had loved her for so long that he couldn’t say exactly when it started.

“You said as much at the meeting, lord,” she said and stopped next to his chair just close enough that his nose could catch the smell of her hair. Always roses, so strong, as if she bathed in it. He had meant to ask if that was the case, but eventually chickened out. It was just not appropriate to ask a lady such a thing. “But now that the Emperor has closed an alliance with the water nymphs of the mountains…”

“And you said as much in the meeting before,” Jellal averted his eyes again away from her. He knew what her opinion on this entire operation was and she very much knew that he was against it, unfortunately he was thoroughly out of options, out of time, and outvoted.

Erza put a hand on his shoulder as if to comfort him and reached out to her fingers even though they were fully armoured and cold. The only thing calming him down was her proximity. “I feel like this-”

“It’s not your fault, lord,” she cut him off before he could even say it. “Nothing that you did has brought this upon you. You are not responsible for the actions of others. The curse on you is not real.” She had always said that to him. Erza did not believe that there was something wrong with him. Erza wasn’t worried he’d turn into some terrible monster down the line. “In fact, you just recently made a tough decision to avoid all of this, because you love the people in this kingdom so much.”

Jellal looked up into her face and his heart felt like it was going to burst again. He knew that Erza was hurt by the fact that he had gotten engaged, even if it was for money only, yet she never openly talked about it. She had just grown more distant in the last months, no matter how often he had ensured her that the wedding was just for appearances, that his fiance had as little inclination to love him as he had to love her. Still, Erza had moved out of his grasp and moments with the two of them alone like this had become rare.

“I understand the war, more or less,” Jellal said and fixated on her brown eyes. “I just don’t know why you have to go with them. Shouldn’t you stay here with me - I mean, to defend me?”

He knew he was being selfish, that thinking of Erza above all the other knights in his army was not what a commander in chief should do. But he had immediately felt worried when she had announced to be leaving, to be going to war, somewhere where he could not talk to her, see her or protect her. He could not shake this feeling that his prophecy meant that she’d never come back.

Erza chuckled a little: “You made me head of your army, lord.”

“Yes, to protect me,” Jellal shot back. “To always be by my side.”

She blushed a little and averted her gaze. “We aren’t children anymore, my lord.” The smile on her face turned thin. “I am no longer fit to stay by your side, we both know it.”

Jellal grinded his teeth together and then stuck the finger back between his teeth to eat the skin there. Erza was the daughter of the dragon tamer that had for many years lived in the castle and served Jellal's father. Eventually, shortly after Erza’s birth, her mother had disappeared and with her the dragons of this kingdom. Raised as an orphan on castle grounds she had no standing, no real family or last name and had only been trained as a knight because of her excellent connections to the prince.

She was not a suitable marriage candidate for Jellal, she had always known this. He had always known this- still, the hope had always been there.

“There is nobody else I would want to be by-” Jellal began but Erza shushed him.

“We can’t play pretend anymore, my lord. You are the future king and I will always be your loyal servant,” she said so matter-of-factly that his mouth hung open without an idea of what to retort. “I enjoyed those years of dreaming. The what-if scenarios. But it is not to be and it never will be.”

She had said something very similar when he had announced that he was going to be officially engaged that this meant their childhood together had officially ended. One would think someone as high standing as Jellal had power of his life, but it seemed like the closer he was getting to the throne, the less agency he had. The carefree days of their youth seemed so far away that it almost seemed like he had dreamed them.

As if she once again read his mind, Erza drew closer to him, her thumb brushing over the fabric on his shoulder. “You can do this,” she whispered, her nose almost touching his cheek. “You have your strengths in leading and I have my strengths in fighting - remember how that was when we played dragon-killer?”

Jellal turned red, not only because this brought back the memory of him tying a bedsheet around his shoulders like a cape and ordering Erza around, but also because her closeness made him uneasy.

“I have always relied on you more than necessary,” he said.

“And now you will rely on me once again,” Erza replied. He wanted to retort that he could better rely on her if she wasn’t leaving, but she completely deflated his fighting spirit by leaning forward and leaving a light kiss on his cheek, right on his cursed mark.

Erza didn’t wait for him to find his speech again instead she straightened out her back and walked back to the door, not, however, before squeezing his shoulder one last time.

He found his composure again before she could open the doors. “Come back,” he said so loud that his voice was echoing off the marble walls. “Make sure you come back to me.” He got up out of his chair. “That’s an order.”

When she turned around his heart stopped for a moment. The way she was smiling, the light in her red hair, the blush on her cheeks - it took his breath away. Erza fully turned back to him, pulling both her legs together and then bowing her head.

“Yes, my lord.”

#jerza #jerza week #fic tag #jellal x erza #jellal fernandes #erza scarlet #there arent even fairies in this show!#I FINISHED ONE OF THESE PROMPTS IM SO PROUD #the power of jerza day approaching LOL

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yolowritter · 1 month

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Miraculous Adventurer Au 2: Electric Boogaloo!

Hi again, it's me! So, quick story time! I was looking through my notes the other day and found a few more things for this Au. I completely forgot I never followed up on it, so here we goooooooooo!

Nah I'm kidding, context/recap first. This Au takes place in Fantasy Anime France, which is Medieval France...but better! Basically just a Medieval Au with adventurers guilds and monsters! Typical RPG shenanigans! Gabriel and Emilie are king and queen (she's alive by the way and Gabriel is more like Hesperia than Hawkmoth. Good guy.), with Adrien as their son. Amelie and Felix also exist in Lunden (London) which is obviously in England. Important note is that this setting isn't tied down to a specific century, I just wanted the vibes. We have vampires, syrens and mages anyway, realism was never a priority. Now...it just so happens that Prince Adrien and Princess Kagami (of an as-of-yet-undecided) eastern kingdom are married. Just follow me on this.

In terms of a recap: Marinette wants to go to the Capital (Paris) to attend a prestigious fashion academy, or at least to try and get in/get a fashion-related job. On her way she decides she needs more money for her trip, and picks up adventuring. Now...it just so happens that she meets a handsome "pro" at the job, named Chat Noir. So naturally, she doesn't give this guy her name yet, because he's a stranger. Marinette's first job is pretty simple. Pick up a sword, whack a couple wolves over the head because they haven't been letting an herblist go into the nearby forest, get paid. Unfortunately, the resident rogue in black leather decides to follow the pretty girl around. Low and behold, they end up fighting the few wolves side by side and turns out they make a pretty good team! Marinette doesn't exactly know how to swordfight anyway, she was basically bashing the wolves with the flat side of her sword.

And so begins the amazing partnership that will surely drive this poor girl insane! And because it just so happens that a ladybug lands on Marinette's face as they leave the battlefield, Chat of course has a new name for her. Ladybug the Scarlet Adventurer is born! And...it just so happens that the herbalist I mentioned last paragraph is named Alya. She is, in fact, a witch. Well...kind of. She specializes in illusion magic, which is completely useless for helping around her village in day to day work. So she got a part time job as a herblist to get some experience. And after being saved by Ladybug (as well as some heroic bragging from Chat Noir), they have their first fan! Back to the adventurer's guild they go, where Chat insists she keep all the money from the job, and urges Marinette to work with him again. He walks away, not giving her a chance to refuse, leaving her a little flabbergasted. I'm sure that won't be important later...

Now...do you all remember how I said that Prince Adrien and Kagami are married? And clearly, Adrien is also Chat Noir? So how can he be in two places at once? Why, Felix of course! Amelie and her son were visiting for the wedding preparations, which lasted a good few weeks, and he got to know Kagami pretty well. Naturally, they fell in love, especially since while she likes Adrien, Kagami isn't in love with him. So...with a bit of help from Amelie, they pulled the swicharoo! Adrien wanted freedom and to explore the country anyway, so why not let Felix (who clearly likes administrative stuff) take over and also marry the girl he loves? Therefore, Adrien Agreste has to hide his identity as the Prince of Paris, and I'm sure that won't be important later...

About Alya, she goes back to her village after getting saved by Ladynoir...and naturally, she decides to also take up adventuring because they've inspired her! What good is she doing wasting away in a small town anyway, when she could be traveling the world and exploring new places? Of course, she drags her boyfriend Nino into this mess almost immediately, since he happens to be a Bard. A DnD-style bard, where music is also (kinda) magic. He would have been perfectly happy to be a local celebrity in a small town if it meant staying with the girl he loves, but hey! If Alya wants adventure, consider him on board! Is it any wonder then that these two duos end up meeting eventually? Ladynoir has gone on a few more jobs, and they're slowly getting the hang of working together and beating up wolves, small smiles and the occasional bandit. So when they suddenly bump into DjWifi a few weeks later, and with a real chance to talk once Nino encourages Alya to push down her hero worship, Marinette and Alya hit it off and become good friends! Adrien is also really happy to have a friendly guy who treats him like a normal person, instead of "your highness" this and "my prince" that. Naturally, they all team up in a party of four! And so, the adventures continue!

I have waaaaay more to say about this Au, for example Max being a genius artificer, Kim being a sailor boy who falls in love with the pretty mermaid Ondine, Luka the travelling bard (and Marinette's ex), Juleka who is nursing a wounded (mermaid) Rose back to health on the Liberty (and also got bit by a vampire recently), and Chloe asking for the famous Ladybug and her team to go on a job for her. So yeah, the Adventurer AU is still alive and kicking! I'll be back with more details, but in the meantime feel free to AMA if you want! Anon asks are on! I'll see you all soon, but until then, Stay Miraculous!

#miraculous ladybug #ao3 fanfic #fanfic ideas #medieval #miraculous adventurer au #prince adrien agreste #rogue chat noir #witch alya #knight marinette #bard nino #can you tell I won't write this for another 20 years?#also seriously I love rambling and chatting abt aus #so if you wanna get more details early lmk!#now if you'll excuse me #I have to go write ACOLL #one of these days at least...

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magicalyaku · 1 year

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Turns out working 11-12 hours a day for two weeks straight effectively wiped all witty thoughts from my head (if I ever had some), but I’ll do my best to remember my November books. /3

15 Tage sind für immer (Here the whole time) (Vitor Martins): This one was unexpectedly nice. It basically made me smile nonstop throughout which was a good thing as I was reading it mostly at my artist alley table at Comic Con Stuttgart and you like to buy stuff from smiling people, right? 8D Felipe's mom is kinda the best. Also the German translation by Svantje Volkens was really good to read. Darius the Great is not okay (Adib Khorram): As the eternal advocate for friendship stories this one took me by surprise! I'm so not used to getting actual ones whithout romance. xD It was appreciated though. I also finally got the pop culture references! Usually I never notice or understand them because I never read or watch what's popular right now but just like Darius I grew up on Star Trek (especially The Next Generation). That was so nice~ But! I'm not sure if I would have enjoyed all the references that much if I didn't know the series. Because they were everywhere. Like take them out and there would be no book left. It was nice to learn about Iran and read about family and connections and stuff. There was also a lot of tea. I like tea. Darius the Great deserves better (Adib Khorram): I don't remember this very well. I didn't like it as much as its prequel but I'm pretty sure that was because of the suffering. Darius is having a hard time thoughout the book and that gave me a hard time, too. Not frustrating though at least. It handled that pretty well. More like a good message you have to work for? Bone Weaver (Aden Polydoros): This should be a fantasy book right up my alley. I realised, however, I'm so much more critical of female protagonists. "8D Toma did well though. Most of the time. I wish she wouldn't have fallen for Vanya (my heroines do not need any love stories thank you) but I have to give her credit for not falling for the first male person she meets (Mikhail), only for the second! And in all honesty, even though I might whine that it would have been better with Vanya x Mikhail, it would not. Because Mikhail lost Alexei (with or at least for whom he had a thing) within the first five pages of the book and having him move on within in three days ... errr The No. Well. I did enjoy the setting, the lore. And gawd I wasn't aware how much I love nicknames? Not "babe" or "sweetheart" etc but real names. Russian names provide so well in that department. Vanya was like "Hey, I'm Ivan but everyone calls me Vanya!" And everyone does! And then, 5 seconds later Mikhail goes "Ivan!" and I'm squealing because you know that at some point in the near future he will reluctantly come to like Vanya and will switch to the nickname as well and it will glorius. orz Anyway. I enjoyed the book but two things: The suffering. The physical pain. I read Mr. Polydoros' other books as well (The City Beautiful and the Assasin Fall duo) and in both the protagonists spend a lot of time in pain. Bone Weaver is no exception. It may not be "a long time" in here, but these guys are pretty broken up it's not funny. Second thing: I wish it would have been third-person instead of Toma's perspective only. I would have loved to learn more about Mikhail. What was his relationship with Koschei before? Will he be okay even when his people find out he has no more magic? The conversations, the bonding between him and Vanya. Gimme more! D: All for the Game series (Nora Sakavic): And finally this. This. I had a lot of words once but I'm reigning myself in. It was good. It was a lot of fun. I read The Foxhole Court back in September and then The Raven King in November and after I finished TRK, I went back to reread TFC ... I didn't want it to be over so soon. /D (And also my memory is shit and I read TFC while at airports, on planes and with my friends chatting next to me, so ... my excuses) I'm glad I read it only now instead of last year when I saw it the first time. (I'm a much more tolerant reader now.) But then, everything I like about the books are things I like in general: good characters, dialogues, self-references that make you leaf back or make you go "aaah" while rereading, and rewards after a long struggle. Gawd. For a hot second while reading TRK I got afraid that everything tumblr fandom teased me with might just be fan stuff instead of canon and I already felt the betrayal. 8D Then I remembered I already read the blurb for The King's Men and it was all there. Phew! Not that I read the books for the romance only. But it was so mind-boggling to know where Neil and Andrew end up when in the beginning they can't spend like two peaceful seconds with each other. So the journey was incredibly intruiging and fun. Haah. (Bonus fun: There were AFTG cosplayers at Comic Con. I only saw a flash of orange in front of my table and was like “Huh, it’s just Haikyuu” but I still took another look and there it was “Palmetto State University”! Of course I embarrassed myself in guessing the characters wrong, but it was still nice. 8D) To ease my AFTG hangover I went back to rewatching anime. I found the perfect little sibling: bad parents, abuse, anger issues, (kinda) gay, more queer kids, estranged childhood friends, boys obsessed with stupid sports, protagonist with an attitude problem and a bad mouth. I present: Stars Align! (Yes, that stupid series which ended on the worst cliffhanger and never got its second part!!! D:<) Speaking of anime, now that the worst of the christmas crunch is over and I'm having time again to actually enjoy stuff I should get back to finishing Yuri on Ice ... and ... Chainsaw Man. xD

#yaku reads #november wrap up #darius the great is not okay #darius the great deserves better #all for the game #aftg #bone weaver #here the whole time #books #queer books #queer lit #lgbtq books

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theveryworstthing · 4 years

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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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realcube · 3 years

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moan in their ear prank

characters ♡ tsukishima, tendō, iwaizumi, kenma & suna

content warning ♡ cursing, kinda crack in iwa’s, suggested punishment, sexual references, fem!reader & nsfw themes - minors dni

kei tsukishima

♡ you meant for it to be a harmless prank but everything you do to him while he is trying to study ends up as harmful towards yourself-

♡ you just had to sneak behind his desk and chair to grab your backpack which was lying on the other side so in the process, you casually leaned in to his ear and produced the most hushed, pornographic moan that you could

♡ his eyes widened as he turned to look at you with an expression which was filled with a mix of disgust, shock and horny. which resembled the look he pulled when you asked him what a Iguanodon is

♡ it took a moment for him to lubricate his dry throat and process what you just did, but once he thought of a suitable response, he blurted out, ‘what the fuck was that?’

♡ a sly smirk graced your features, you didn’t even spare him a glance as you dipped down to grab your backpack and pull it over your shoulders, ‘nothing.’

♡ once you finally laid eyes on him, you couldn’t help but snort at his stunned look which you rarely got to see as most of the time, it’s extremely hard to catch him off-guard, ‘anyway, i should probably get going. see ya lat--’

♡ though, you couldn’t even turn around before tsukishima grabbed your wrist be glad he was sitting down or else it would’ve been your throat- , ‘you’re not going anywhere.’ then he proceeded to pull you onto his lap

♡ you giggled at how uncharacteristically bold he was being before placing a kiss on his cheek, ‘that was hot, i’ll admit. but i really need to get going - i’m in a bit of a rush.’

♡ his seductive smirk fell into a frown and he was quick to drop his bedroom persona, ‘fine, then. go be a whore somewhere else.’ he said, abruptly pushing you off his lap and focussing his attention back on his work

♡ you gasp, luckily finding your balance after he pushed you then making your way to the door, lingering there for a moment just so you could peer over your shoulder and hum, ‘alright. but you know i’ll always be your whore, kei.’

♡ tsukishima exhaled sharply through his nose, adjusting his glasses as the corner of his lip pulled into a small smile, ‘unfortunately for me, yes.’

♡ a few moments passed and you must’ve been admiring his effortless beauty for a bit too long as he suddenly turned to you and snapped, ‘i thought you were in a rush? why are you just standing there?! it’s freaking me out- or are you gonna moan for me again?’ he chuckled at his own teasing but when he saw that you were giving him love-dovey eyes again, a light blush tinted his face as he waved his hand for you to go away, ‘whatever, just get lost. goodbye, i love you & all that stuff.’

satori tendō

♡ he was sitting on the couch playing a game on his phone or sumn and nothing interesting had been happening lately so you took it upon yourself to make something interesting happen

♡ you approached the couch and plopped down next to him, your mouth hovering over his ear for a few moments - your hot breath tickling his skin - before you moaned in the most erotic way possible

♡ he physically perked up then twisted his neck to look at you with an amused smirk, ‘someone’s horny.’ he commented, his attention quickly returning to his game

♡ you were excited to see his reaction but that was so underwhelming-

♡ your bottom lip jutted out to form a pout as you poked his cheek, ‘yes! aren’t ya gonna do something about it? i always help you when you’re horny!’

♡ ‘i’d love to help you out, princess. but i’m on the 48th level of candy crush. priorities.’

♡ you blinked rapidly, your gaze flickering between the phone screen and your clown of a boyfriend, ‘you know there is like..over eight thousand levels, right?’

♡ he side-eyed you with his eyebrow raised as if to say ‘fr?’ and you simply nodded in response

♡ the app was soon deleted, ‘fuck that.’

♡ he tossed his phone aside and sighed as he stared into the void since he thought that his entertainment for the next few hours had been lost

♡ but being the caring girlfriend you are, you were quick to swoop in and tilt his chin up to meet your longing gaze, ‘no, fuck me, satori.’

♡ and he did so gladly

hajime iwaizumi

♡ you did it to him when you saw him just lookin scrumptious asf while he making was pasta for dinner

♡ you slipped your arms around his waist and nuzzled your face into the back of his neck like you usually do when he cooks

♡ but this time, you hopped onto your tip-toes, lightly thrusted against his back and moaned quietly in his ear

♡ to your surprise, instead of getting flustered or mad, he just laughed

♡ though, it wasn’t one of his cute, toothy-grin chortles; but rather an intimidating string of low chuckles - as if he was mocking you

♡ which he was

♡ you raised a brow, peering over his shoulder to see if he was perhaps amused by something else but unfortunately for you, he was ready to meet your gaze with a deadly glare

♡ so yeah..you were railed on the spot <3

♡ you may be wondering what happened to your pasta but dw bc he rearranged your guts while adding oregano to that shit-

♡ multi-tasking king ✨👑

♡ like you were bent over the counter, face pressed against the cold marble and you stared directly at the fire of the stove beside you which tickled your face with a warm sensation as iwaizumi filled you up with an even warmer sensation

♡ one of his hands massaging your waist while the other was stirring the pot

kenma kuzome

♡ your first mistake was doing it to him while he was streaming

♡ his camera was broken but the show must go on so it was just his voice + minecraft gameplay + you but the fans don’t need to know that

♡ since his camera was off, kenma allowed you to sit on his lap as he played but under two conditions: you will not talk or make any noises and you can’t interfere with his game

♡ a small price to pay for some kenma snuggles :3 so ofc you obeyed

♡ well, for the first hour or so, at least

♡ after a while, it got boring just watching him play so you brought out your switch and started playing for yourself but even that became boring quickly too

♡ then the idea hit you

♡ you were straddling him hence his ear was already by your lips, so it’s not like you’d have to move from your position

♡ plus, his mouth was very close to the mic so if you were quiet enough, the viewers probably wouldn’t hear a thing

♡ though, you didn’t do too much reasoning, you kinda just acted on urge when you leaned in, pressed your lips together and hummed a faint moan

♡ his eyes widened and he visibly froze - if he had cat ears, they’d jolt upwards

♡ his gaze immediately landed on the chat to ensure that nobody was going to mention it but his sudden silence probably made it more obvious that something happened

♡ the chat wasn’t flooded with inquiries but there were a few questions as to why he paused and if he was alright; so fortunately for your ass, it appeared as though nobody had heard a thing

♡ kenma hesitantly continued mining, explaining through gritted teeth, ‘oh, sorry, guys. my cat-’ he paused to pull his head back to shoot you a deadly glare accompanied by a snarl, ‘won’t shut the fuck up. shoo, kitty, we can cuddle later.’

♡ he waved his hand and you buggered off before you got caught cackling at the fact he called you ‘kitty’

♡ his chat genuinely believed him and he got a few donations solely bc they found out he’s a cat person

♡ so yeah, if anything you did him a favour but that didn’t stop him from fucking you into next week as soon as the stream ended

rintarō suna

♡ any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fu

♡ you’re just sitting on his lap, cuddling - as y’all do - when the idea occurs to you

♡ but a mistake you made was that you carried out this prank with no intention to actually do the dirty- you just wanted to see his reaction

♡ he thought you were just craning your neck out to place a kiss on his cheek but when he hears your melodious moan ring through his head, he turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised

♡ ‘that’s no way to ask for my dick. try again, but nicely this time .’ he snickered, lightly patting your head, clearly amused by your little pout

♡ honestly, he has such a soft spot for you - like you just existing near him makes him feel all warm inside 💕

♡ furrowing your brows, you whined, ‘i don’t want your cock, anyway. it was just a joke to see ho--’

♡ ‘you’re so horny for me, it’s kinda embarrassing.’

♡ his cocky smirk was simply met by your blank stare

♡ there was a long while of silence between the two of you; which you spent wondering why you were even with him while he was entranced by the thought of your pretty face with his dick half-way down your throat <33

♡ until eventually he broke by whipping off his shirt, lassoed it around your neck and pulled you in so your lips crashed against his, ‘you sure?’

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lazypeachsoul · 3 years

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you promise?

Request: by anon “Could you write an Osferth drabble. About anything you'd like. Please and thank you.”

Warnings: Nothing.

Word count: 1,8k

A/N: Here's the first fic for The Last Kingdom Week! Hope you enjoy some sweet baby monk. I might have gone overboard with this story, but I can't help it when it comes to osferth. Enjoy 🌼

The streets of Cookham were bustling with workers returning home from the fields that surrounded the village. Thanks to Lord Uhtred and his fame the once forgotten town had become a stop for every merchant that traveled through Wessex and the workload had increased. And you were no different than any of those other people.

The sun was now setting and it was your time to return the children you minded back to their homes, where their overworked parents would take care of them. It wasn’t normal for common workers to have child minders, normally leaving the kids at home with their mothers, but Cookham was busier than ever and women were working the fields too. And that left you to take care of the little rascals that lived in town.

You had tried to work as a seamstress and at the alehouse, but nothing seemed to really suit you. Well, at least until you started taking care of the kids. You didn’t get much pay since the people you worked for were underpaid to begin with, but the little you got you saved for a new fabric, or a sweet treat or for those times you would meet Osferth at the alehouse and you wanted to prove him that you were a hard working woman.

And how you loved those times. Osferth seemed to always be busy either training or meeting with the rest of what had now been named the “Cookham squad”. Lord Uhtred and his loyal warriors were the talk of all Wessex and a great source of gossip for the entire town. Lord Uhtred and his beautiful wife Gisela took care of the people that lived inside their walls. Then there was Finan, the loud irishman who seemed to bring joy and fun to any occasion celebrated, always close to him was Sihtric, the mysterious dane who didn’t speak much but said a lot with just a look. And the last one was the monk who is not really a monk Osferth.

When you first met him you were trying to learn to become a barmaid and accidentally tripped on his foot, sending a pitcher of ale flying everywhere and leaving you both embarrassed and asking for mutual forgiveness. Since that moment, you had started to meet together at the alehouse every few days, providing you with a nice friendship but keeping all the rules a respectable young unmarried woman should follow.

And that’s exactly where you were headed after dropping your last child at home with his grateful mother. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the familiar blonde mop of hair sitting on one of the outside benches, and you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than just casual meetings at the alehouse. At that moment Osferth turned around and waved in your direction and with a small wave you made your way to the bench, sitting in front of him.

“I thought you didn’t see me, you looked distracted.” Osferth's sweet voice spoke and you had to admit he was right, you almost missed it because of your constant daydreaming about the man. But you couldn’t admit that.

“Excuse me, the children were wild and I’m extremely tired. Must be because of the nice weather.”

“Maybe we should meet another day, I wouldn’t want to tire you more Lady-” “No!”

You hadn’t been able to stop the agitated answer from coming out when you heard his dismissal. You were tired but never too tired to stop meeting Osferth. You could feel your cheeks hot with embarrassment and you tried to clear your throat to diffuse the tension.

“I mean, I would rather stay here with you and relax with a friend.”

Osferth’s face seemed to harden at your words but as soon as the barmaid brought you two cups of ale everything seemed to go back to normal, except for a small curious voice at the back of your head wanting to know why the expression changed.

“A friend. Of course. I enjoy the time we spend together too.” He nodded his head, his blonde hair falling in front of his eyes before taking a sip from his cup. “The weather is really nice so I wouldn’t blame the children. Lord Uhtred told us that the weather would turn nicer before we leave.”

You felt the ale you had been drinking get stuck in your throat but you tried to conceal it with a soft cough so as to not cause a scene in the packed alehouse. Leave? They were leaving?

“Are you leaving soon? You didn’t say anything before.”

“Lord Uhtred just confirmed it this morning. The King has requested the Lord’s help in some negotiations with the danes. He thought it best for us to accompany him since his history with the king is not the most amicable.”

You nodded along as he spoke but your brain was overworking itself trying to comprehend the situation. They were leaving to assist the King of Wessex and they would leave Cookham unattended for God knows how long. Of course the real reason you were worried was not the village, Lady Gisela could take care of it and more without a problem, you were worried about Osferth and you. Was there even an 'Osferth and you' to worry about?

“That’s...great that the King and our Lord are speaking again. Maybe it might help us get resources from the crown.” You tried to excuse your previous silence but it must have been obvious you were deep in thought because Osferth looked at you with a curious face. “And when are you leaving?”

“We’re expected to depart tomorrow morning. Apparently those matters are very important and require us to be there as soon as possible.” He shrugged in a move to downplay the entire situation.

Silence was the only thing that could be heard from your side of the bench, a deep contrast from the rest of the groups happily chatting and drinking. The table was silent but your mind was not, still overthinking every word your companion had said. You were overthinking so much that you almost missed his quiet voice.

“I am going to miss you.” Osferth spoke and as soon as you looked at him again he seemed to flush. “And our conversations. Or friendly conversations as...friends.”

You wanted to laugh at the poor man in front of you. In the many months you had known Osferth you had never seen him that flustered in his life, cheeks and ears bright red and a stuttering mess.

“I’m going to miss you too Osferth. And our friendly meetings.” You placed your hand next to his on the table next to his, not wanting to overstep and make the poor man more uncomfortable.

He moved his hand carefully almost imperceptibly until his fingers touched yours and a warm feeling ran down your entire arm from your hand. He seemed to be the one deep in thought at the moment and you almost wished you could pick at his brain to see what was going on. Is that how he felt every time you zoned out?

“Maybe you could remember me-” “Of course I’m going to remember you Osferth, don’t be silly. You are not going to war, only a mission for the king.”

A nervous chuckle was the only thing he could let out now and his reactions were starting to worry you a bit. If it was only a small trip he shouldn't have been that nervous.

“Let me finish. Maybe if I gave you something that you could remember me by, it would be easier.”

“You don’t have to do that, Osferth. I will remember you anyways.” You tried to reason with him but you couldn’t stop him from moving to look for something in the pockets of his robes.

After a bit of fussing with the robes he placed his closed fist on top of your hand, opening it just enough for something small and metallic to fall into your hand. Moving your hand closer you found a small fragile chain that seemed to have been at least as old as you.

“It’s not much, just a scrap of metal if you try to sell it. But it was my mother’s, the only thing I have from her. I hid it from the monks when I was growing up so they wouldn’t take it away. Carried it into battle with me every time I’ve fought too.”

Every single word of the explanation seemed to make your throat close a bit more and your eyes glossier. You knew Osferth had no real memories with his mother and you could imagine how important that bracelet must have been for him.

“I can’t accept it, it’s so important to you. Why would you give it to me?” You debated with your head shaking and trying to push the chain into his hand again. “Don’t be silly, Osferth. It’s your mother’s bracelet.”

“You must keep it. Please.” He kept his fist tightly closed to avoid you giving him back the piece of jewelry. “I want you to have it.”

“But I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

You kept trying to pry his fist open, all in vain because he wouldn’t even budge. You wanted to get up and hug him for such a meaningful gesture and hit him at the same time for wanting to part with such a meaningful piece.

“You have.” He spoke, grabbing your hand and halting your movements. “Maybe you can give me your promise.”

You looked at him curiously at what his proposal might be. Maybe he just wanted you to take care of Lady Gisela, you knew how he saw her as the mother he never had. Or maybe he wanted you to care for Lord Uhtred’s children.

“You can promise me that once I’m back from Wincester you will allow me to properly court you.” He explained and you felt your heart stop. “I-If you want, of course.”

Courting Osferth was not something you had thought about, mainly because you had nothing to offer. Your parents didn’t have fields or many resources they could offer a prospective husband. And Osferth was a warrior, so you thought settling down seemed to be out of the picture for him. But you had to admit the idea made your stomach turn in the best way possible.

You realized you had been thinking for a long time and still hadn’t given an answer when you felt him squeezing your hand. Could you promise him something like that?

“I promise.” Of course you could, the idea of a lifetime with Osferth only made you more excited about life. “Only you have to promise me to come back soon.”

He nodded with enthusiasm, moving his hands to take the small chain from your delicate hand and clasp it around your wrist. This mission hadn’t even started and you already wanted it to end.

Taglist: @webreathfandoms @thebohemianpenguin @emilyhufflepufftlk @solinarimoon

#the last kingdom imagine #the last kingdom x reader #tlk imagine #tlk x reader #osferth x reader #osferth imagine #tlk week #myfic

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hobidreams · 3 years

Text

june 1869.

you’ve never been able to hide from him.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff? words: 2.3k contains: choices, consequences.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 21. start from the beginning?

The moment you reach your private chambers, you collapse against the door. Your heart softly shudders with strain as you finally let the first tears fall, trickling steadily down your cheeks. The bundles you carried in fall to the floor as you cover your face with your cold hands, trying to stifle the quiet sobs that seem so determined to come.

You had gone into town after your work today. Walked down, escorted by a guard that you pretended wasn’t there. (The king now insisted upon such a thing whenever you left the palace walls, but you could tell the guard thought the job much beneath him.) You had just finished picking up a few ingredients from the market traders and was on your way to see if the bookstore had received new products when your attention had been caught by the sizeable crowd gathered outside the town clinic.

“Please, please, give me medicine for my daughter!” The peasant woman clutched a child that couldn’t have been more than two years old. The babe’s crying was as raucous as the yelling, the noisy mix of voices all clamoring with want.

“I need to see someone! My side— It hurts every day. I can’t work anymore. My family’s going to starve. I need treatment!”

The physician’s assistant stood on the clinic steps with folded arms and a bitter, hard look on his face. “Are we running a charity? We need to eat too! If you can’t pay, you can’t see the doctor!” He slammed the door in their faces, leaving them out in the sweltering heat, crying out that they could pay next week or as soon as they could, they just needed help right now, but the door remained shut.

Your chest felt stiflingly tight at the sight, compassion’s hand squeezing hard around your heart because you knew you could help. You had to help. You took a step forward, ready to offer your services only to have the guard block your way.

“Su-uinyeo-nim. We must return to the palace.”

“No, I want to stay.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. They could harm you.” And if they did, then his own head would likely be on the chopping block. Ridiculous.

“They won’t. They just need treatment, and I’m a physician.” You didn’t have many of your tools here but you could at least take a look, provide a diagnosis or recommend some easily obtainable herbs.

“The king would not approve of putting yourself in danger.”

You opened your mouth only to shut it. The king wouldn’t approve of a lot of things, but how could you just stand here and do nothing? These people, they needed your skills.

You took another step forward.

“Su-uinyeo-nim.” The guard’s voice was firm. He indicated for you to start walking away, towards home.

You shot him a stare, the hardest look you could conjure, but didn’t move. Not yet, damn it.

“Oh—uinyeo-nim!”

You dallied long enough. One of the women had evidently recognized your outfit and was now barreling towards you with a fire in her eyes. “Uinyeo-nim, you can help me, right!? It’s my daughter, she’s been having a fever and—”

“No, she cannot.” The guard’s glare was as sharp as the blade that the hand on his sword promised.

“Oh, please!” She threw herself against the arm the guard tried to reign her in with. Threw herself forward trying to reach you. “My daughter, my daughter will die if she’s not treated!”

“Let me—” You started, only for the guard to shove her harshly back since he could not do the same to you. She cried out, almost toppling over from the force as she clutched her baby, but he did not relent.

“We are leaving.”

He began to boldly walk towards you, practically into you, leaving you no choice in the matter. You were too afraid he might hurt her further if you did not comply even though every step away felt like a blow to your chest, like tiny fists pounding against your ribcage, making you sore and ache because the stark truth was that your inability to help her wasn’t even entirely the guard’s fault.

All those years ago, you chose to stay.

You never opened the affordable clinic mother had dreamed of. You put your feelings before the wellbeing of all those people you could have helped then, and you did it again today. Selfish. Selfish and helpless and selfish. For all the work you’ve done, it never feels like enough. There are always more patients in need and here you are, living among this extravagance and opulence but really getting nowhere. Not with the king. Not with how much change you can bring to the people.

Even your tears can only be shed here, in privacy and cowardice.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper through your blurry vision, but these are just words. They do nothing in the end and every choice feels like the wrong one and that there will only be dire consequences to follow them.

“Su-uinyeo-nim?”

At Eunuch Kim’s muted voice, you startle. Hurriedly, you wipe the backs of your hands against your eyes. “Y-Yes?”

“The king has requested your company tonight.”

“Oh.” Shit. You’re in no state to face him, not for what he has in mind, but you must go. “I-I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just allow me to… change.” You push to your feet, onto shaky legs as you sniff.

“Of course.”

The brief walk over in the cool summer evening helps to pull some of the sorrow from your mind (or at least tucks it away to be revisited later when you find yourself as always, alone). Eunuch Kim is kind enough not to probe into the heaviness about you today; he simply chats about the latest novel he has picked up in town, a study of birds that he recommends heartily to you. The king is not so kind. The second you enter his chambers, tilt your head just enough for him to catch your eye, he frowns.

“You’ve been crying.”

It’s not a question.

“I, um, simply had some dust in my eyes, jeonha.”

Searching for a distraction, you begin to undo the tie of your blouse. You’ve never purposefully let him see you openly upset, or at least not since this ‘arrangement’ began.

“Dust. Really.”

You nod, unwilling to meet his stare.

The floorboard creaks as he steps towards you. Covers your hands with his own so he can strip you instead. You can’t tell if he believes you; he is so quiet while he pulls layer after layer from you, letting the fabric drop to the floor in bunches of crumpled white and light blue. The warmth of his fingers on your skin feels like comfort, even when it’s only a prelude to his desire.

Isn’t it stupid, that some excessive part of you wants him to openly refute your lies even as you tell them? To undress your mind as hungrily he does your body until you have no choice but to be bared and free, released from the burden of your own thoughts?

“Get on the bed.”

Maybe it’s better like this. You are the only woman he has ever known in this way; you can’t let yourself be so greedy, to again let that selfish part of you want and want and want so much that appetite consumes you, bones and all. You press your palms and knees to the hard bedding. Squeeze your eyes together. Force the tears to stay back while you wait for the burn to come.

His calloused hands land on your waist, but it’s to urge you to turn over instead.

“J-Jeonha?” you question, confused when you see him already on his knees, that piercing gaze provoking goosebumps from your skin. “Why…”

His hands find your ass, urging you towards the edge of the bed. He throws the top layer of his robes aside before he spreads your legs apart, letting them rest against the wood.

What… What is he doing? You find your answer as the sokgot strips fall to the floor beneath his touch and abruptly, before your poor heart has time to prepare itself, his breath blows warm across your clit.

“Ah, this—!” Wild-eyed, you try to squirm back, hot with embarrassment that his face is this close to your crotch. It floods you with worry after worry about your scent, the possible bumps marring your skin, the tufts of hair, but he doesn’t seem to care about any of it as he hooks his hands beneath your thighs. “You’re not—”

Soft lips and a slick tongue are pressed flush against you.

Your entire body seems to quiver at the first lick; a single taste of wetness followed by a second, a third, a relentless fourth that makes liquid pleasure crest, surging upwards, a high, rushing tide in mere seconds. You buck, hands finding no support upon the sheets and part of you wants to cover your face instead, to let die the moans that surface with each gasp but that means you would miss the sight. This unforgettable sight: inky eyes between your thighs, the quick, pink tip of his tongue swiping heat directly into your veins. It feels messy before he finds his rhythm, settles into a beat that only reaffirms how he is irrefutably dominant even while he is on his knees before you, for once not breaking you apart but making you feel so dizzyingly whole you could burst.

While his fingers have learned almost every inch of you, this remains a scenario you never even thought to entertain, never even thought he would want. His pleasing only you. His putting you at the forefront of even his own satisfaction. Stop. The grip on your thigh tightens; you never want him to let go. Stop giving me hope. He does anyway with a drawn out suck, his stare as hazy and heady as if he’s been drinking the most exquisite cheongju.

Your body is taut, sweat beading down your spine. “This is— I can’t—”

“You can,” he quips back, and whatever words you could have said are stolen by orgasm. Taken, and made unbecoming moans that blow past the last shreds of your resistance now resting between his teeth.

It overwhelms you, this newfound sensitivity from being consumed; it makes you want to shirk back but he doesn’t let you. Somehow one of your legs finds its way over his shoulder and he uses that momentum to keep you against his stunning mouth, giving you what you need but never what you want. Each lick nudges you further off the edge, finding an acute bliss past every limitation you thought you had and you think, feverishly you think — it’s like he’s giving you permission to fall apart.

Tears coalesce at the corner of your eyes but you don’t notice. You don’t even know they’re there until wetness trails down your cheeks and even then you’re distracted by another peak, this one a muted swell that makes your muscles tense around his thin frame; he supports your weight without a word of complaint as his strokes finally dwindle in time with your pulses until both drop off entirely.

As he lets your leg roll off his arm, his breaths come almost as unsteadily as yours. Slowly, he retracts his wide hands from your thighs. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his own cheek, you watch him paint your taste in his mouth and don’t know what to make of any of it.

It’s only when a few tears cling to your eyelashes and blur your vision that you realize what’s happening. How embarrassing. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this on the way here and look at you now. You’re about to reach up to wipe away the tears, the damning evidence of your weakness when the king wraps his hands tight around your wrists. Pushes you back. Presses his knees to the bed as he hovers above you, all silence and heat and him.

“Um, j-jeon—”

He leans down and cuts you off with a kiss.

You gasp into his mouth but he doesn’t pull away. He is just soft, persistent, firm, and soft as he moves naturally across territory that should have been unfamiliar, but instead it feels like he’s been mapping, planning this capture for as long as you have. An impossible dream, yes, but the warm breath ghosting across your skin, lingering, is real. You open for him. For your first kiss. Your first kiss with him.

The warm fingers at your wrist squeeze harder.

“You… You can cry.” His voice is a murmur, delicate and hesitant against your lips, as if imparting a secret. “If you want.”

So you do.

You finally let yourself cry while he kisses you again and again, adjusting his angle to push you further into the pillows, releasing a wrist to cup your wet cheek. He kisses you with his nose pressed to yours, a tiny, precious moan finding freedom from someone’s throat.

Yoongi, your mind recalls, clinging to the syllables that belong to a word you’ve never dared to say aloud as he kisses you, kisses you, kisses you until both your mouths are swollen and your chest feels a bit lighter, his a bit heavier in exchange.

And when he finally pulls away, he holds you. His arms accept all your gravity for just a few lingering minutes more, a few heartbeats more, until it’s time for you to go.

#ficswithluv #btsghostie #ksmutclub #yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi #bts imagines #bts scenarios #historical au #moonlit throne #rain writes #one of my favorite chapters #how do you feel about the king now?

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mcheang · 3 years

Text

@pendoodlex Do an Adrien Salt where Lila lies about Chat Noir and Ladybug being in a relationship and Adrien confirms the lie.

It’s my love life!

It’s easy to lie about stuff people want to hear. Alya was greedy for any gossip about Ladybug and loved support for her theories on Ladybug.

Recently they debated on Ladybug’s true age. Was she an immortal with teenage hormones and atttiude? Or simply a teenager?

Now they were on to Ladybug’s love life.

Lila: Of course LadyNoir is a thing. Ladybug just denies it because she doesn’t want to give Hawkmoth any more reason to target Chat Noir, but it’s obvious how much they care for each other.

Alya: Yes! A witness to Ladynoir!

Marinette: a lying witness

Nathaniel frowned. “I don’t know, Lila…”

Before Lila could insist she was correct, Adrien actually jumped in. “It’s true. Ladybug and Chat Noir are a couple. Sorry, Nathaniel, but she’s off the market.”

Marinette froze. Did Adrien just lie to Nathaniel about her love life? Just so no one would interfere with their beloved Ladynoir fandom?

WTH???

Overwhelmed by her hurt and rage, Marinette actually grabbed Adrien’s hand and dragged him out of the classroom, her face burning red.

Some assumed she was trying out another one of her confession schemes. Lila thought Marinette was going to tell Adrien she was a liar (eh, he already knew.)

In a far off corner, Marinette was whisper-yelling at Adrien. “What are you thinking? It’s one thing to ignore Lila’s lies, it’s another to endorse them! LadyNoir is not real!”

Thinking that Marinette still had a crush on Chat Noir, Adrien winced and rubbed his head. “I’m sorry, Marinette. But it’s true. Ladybug and Chat Noir are a couple.”

“No, they are not! Where’s your proof?“ She demanded.

Adrien thought quickly. “I saw them kissing on a rooftop last week.”

Marinette raised a brow. “Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming?” Her voice was heavy with skepticism.

Adrien: Positive.

Marinette: Well, I’m not sorry to say that you’re wrong. Ladybug and Chat Noir are not a couple.

Adrien: and how are you so sure? Just because you have a crush on Chat-

Marinette: Because Ladybug visited me after my dad was akumatized!

Adrien:…what?

Marinette took a deep breath. She hated lying but she also couldn’t stand lies about her.

“Ladybug consoled me after Chat rejected me. She reminded me about the other great boys in my life and ones I have yet to meet. And I asked her why she wouldn’t date Chat. Do you know what she told me?”

Adrien was quiet.

“She said she was in love with a boy from her own civilian life, not Chat Noir. To be honest, he’s not even her type.”

Adrien perked up. “Ladybug has a type?”

Marinette: Obviously. From what I hear, she’s more into the sensitive soul kind of guy.

Adrien: Chat is sensitive!

Marinette just stared at her crush in disbelief. “Um, yeah, no. The dude sulks whenever he gets rejected and has no idea what no means. For crying out loud, he gave me a pink rose before dumping me, and that was after he ate the treats my dad baked for him.”

Adrien: For someone with a crush on the hero, you sure sound bitter.

Marinette exhaled again, calming herself. “I’m not bitter. I’ve moved on, truly. Enough to see what Ladybug meant when she said I’ll move on soon enough. I’m over Chat.“

Adrien raise his brows.

Marinette continued, “I’ve been able to analyse his actions without the hero-crush filters. Be honest, Adrien, how would you feel at having to constantly reject the same person over and over again? Wouldn’t you be annoyed by their repeated flirtations?”

Adrien shrugged. “I reject fans all the time. Well, not exactly. I just ignore their love letters.“

Marinette shook her head. “That doesn’t count. You don’t know those people. Let’s say Chloe was going to confess her love to you every day. And you have to reject her every day. When you reject her, she raises a fuss and causes an akuma. How would you feel about your childhood friend?”

Adrien grimaced. “That would suck. I would avoid Chloe just to avoid her confessions.”

Marinette raised her hand, like there you go. Point proven.

Adrien wasn’t done. “But,” he insisted stubbornly, “it’s different for LadyNoir. They’re partners. Yin and Yang. A superhero duo. Who else is she going to end up with if not her partner? These kinds of pairings always win in the end.”

Marinette: that’s just sad. You’re comparing Ladybug’s love life to fiction. Life isn’t a fairy tale, Adrien. you don’t decide who Ladybug ends up with, and it’s not right for you to lie about her either.

Adrien: LadyNoir will happen. I’m sure of it.

Marinette: You’re not even going to take back that lie, are you?

Adrien: Why would I? It’s going to be fact.

Marinette said sadly, “Goodbye, Adrien.”

After school, Marinette tore down her posters of Adrien. Filters removed, indeed.

Tikki: Don’t worry, Marinette. I’m sure things will come right in the end.

Marinette: that doesn’t mean I can’t help set things back in order. Tikki, spots on!

Alya turned around at a tapping on her window.

Alya: Ladybug!

Ladybug: Hey, Alya. Listen, I’ve been reading your blog, and I need to set some facts straight.

Alya: Is this about revealing your love life? Because honestly, it would be better to be honest about your love life than to let others hope they have a shot with you. Remember Copycat?

Ladybug: That’s my point. I’m not dating Chat Noir. I don’t even like him that way. Lila has been lying to you, Alya.

Alya: Um, she’s your Best Friend…

Ladybug: When did I ever say that?

Alya:…….. ……….Why didn’t you correct me before today, then?

Ladybug sighed. “Because i had called her out in front of Adrien, and she got akumatized. And when she disappeared for a while, I figured there was no need to bring her up.“

Alya: Hold on. Adrien knew Lila was lying?

Ladybug: Yes. Though I’m sure he must have his own reasons for protecting Lila. But back to my point. I am not dating Chat Noir, and I am not interested in him like that. My love life is mine to decide, not for others to insist on just because they prefer me with Chat. How would you like it if Parisians started pairing you with Pegasus or Monkey King instead of Carapace? With them insisting you break up with Nino just to be with someone they chose for you?”

“That would be annoying,“ admitted Alya. “And invasive.”

Ladybug: I want to do a live interview, to clear the matter up once and for all.

In this interview, Ladybug was professional and succinct as she stated she doesn’t know Lila Rossi and she is not in a relationship with Chat. She doesn’t want to hurt her fans, but her love life is for her to handle.

Unable to help herself, Alya asked, “If you don’t like Chat, who do you like? You don’t have to give any names, but just one little tidbit, please?”

Eh, why not?

Ladybug leaned back on her hands and smiled, her eyes going faraway and dreamy. “Mature. That’s all I’ll say.”

After all, Luka had always supported her crush on Adrien. He never pushed her, but was always there for her. Why didn’t she how good he was? Oh right, Adrien filters.

Lila was fuming. How could she show her face again? Where was an akuma when you wanted one?

The akuma was drawn to a LadyNoir fanatic.

Fight fight fight. Chat was noticeably sulky at having been rejected on air.

When Alya came over to interview, he insisted he would not give up on Ladybug. Alya raised her brows, “Yeah that’s fine. But just don’t be pushy about it. And from your attitude earlier during the battle, I don’t think you fit Ladybug’s ideal criteria.”

Chat flushed and turned away, using his baton to propel himself home.

At school, Lila was playing truant, and Alya was grilling Adrien for keeping quiet.

Adrien: her lies weren’t hurting anyone!

Alya: I’m taking into account your isolated childhood, so let me just say, lies are hurtful. And it’s not right to encourage and spread her lies either.

Adrien: LadyNoir has to happen!

Nino shook his head in disgust. “You sound like that akuma last night. Ladybug has the right to decide who she wants to be with. If you ship LadyNoir, that’s fine. But you shouldn’t let it get this far to decide for Ladybug who she ends up with.”

Alya sighed, “Let’s blame Gabriel for this and hope Adrien can still be saved.”

Alya also understood when Marinette gave up on Adrien after seeing his behavior. She was interested in Luka but decided to wait because she didn’t want him to be a rebound guy.

Anyway, Adrien learned to keep his opinions to himself when all they got him was disapproval.

Ladybug’s interview caused the Parisians to question if the Italian diplomat should even still be in Paris if her daughter likes to spout lies about their heroine. How could she let her own daughter lie about stuff like that? It was enough that Mrs Rossi was questioned at work and her ignorance unveiled.

Yeah, Mrs Rossi would be lucky to keep her job after this but it was suggested Lila be sent outside Paris since she would certainly be unhappy with her new pariah status. Lila was sent to a correctional facility where no one was charmed by her falsehoods. Hell, she couldn’t even contact her mother because she was even busier trying to make amends.

When Ladybug finally told Chat she was happily in a relationship with her new boyfriend, he was sulky. Oh sure, he continued to fight alongside Ladybug but he was hopeful that she would break up with her boyfriend.

Plagg: that’s a horrible reaction. Can’t you just be happy for Ladybug?

Adrien: love is irrational and can’t be reasoned with, Plagg.

Plagg: then can you at least be polite and respectful to Ladybug’s wishes that you stop flirting with her?

Adrien: fine. Being Chat Noir was a chance to finally express myself, though.

Plagg: there’s a difference between freedom of expression and being rude/disrespectful/obnoxious

Adrien tried to date Kagami, but she broke up with him. There was no point in continuing the relationship when Adrien was so fixed on Ladybug.

I’m gonna leave this open ended. Any ideas how you would end this story?

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml salt fic #Adrien salt #Lila is exposed #Lila gets exposed #post-Chameleon #Marinette x Luka

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glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

The Sylvain and Dimitri arranged marriage stuff made me think of a claude version of it. Maybe an AU where Claude never came to fodlan and reader has to marry the prince/king of Almyra to improve countries relationships. Anyway seriously love your stuff thank you so much for the content!!

Oh hoo Anon, this is a wonderful take on the concept. Let's see what I can whip up for us~

((side note I feel like we never learn whether Almyra speaks a different language from Fodlan?? But being multi-lingual is sexy so idgaf))

((And also I used Bengali for Almyran because I have Bengali family and the language is so beautiful even though the english alphabet phonetic spellings are weird af))

Claude x Reader - Arranged Marriage

NSFW 18+ (like only towards the end tho idk)

Overall, you do what you can to stay out of the way. You'd been sent to Almyra as a symbol- a token, more than anything else. Now that you were in King Khalid's possession, very few throughout the castle paid you any particular mind. You were provided for, of course. Anything you cared to ask for was given. But you didn't speak a word of the Almyran language, and those who bothered to use what they knew of Fodlan's to communicate with you seemed to view you as a pet to be kept safe and healthy, and little else.

By week's end, there was to be a lavish banquet in honor of your union with the King- though of course, your input on the proceedings is entirely unwanted. In some ways, Almyra is quite similar to Fodlan. Court life is much the same. As you wander through the royal gardens, wondering at a range of colorful and exotic flowers you'd never heard of, let alone seen, a voice speaks smoothly behind you.

"Did you know you can actually eat the petals of this particular flower? They're very sweet."

You whirl around and nearly bump into King Khalid. You're about to stammer out an apology, but he reaches out and plucks a single white petal and holds it before your lips.

"Go on, I think you'll like it."

Whatever possesses you to eat a flower petal from this man's hand is something you'd rather leave unexamined for the time being- but he is right about the flavor. It's sweet, but not overly so, and quite pleasant.

"Hm! Yeah, it's nice," you say, then glance up at him as another thought occurs to you that you'd considered once or twice before, "You speak the language of Fodlan very well, my Lord."

"I'm flattered," he says with a disarmingly handsome smile, "and please, just Khalid. I don't think I could bear to have my own wife stand on such formality with me."

He says it so naturally, as if you'd been planning this union for years. Though, once again, he's right. This is only perhaps the dozenth time you've exchanged words, but you are wed, and you ought to get used to addressing him as your husband.

"Khalid..." you say tentatively, "Did- did you need something from me? I hope I wasn't too much trouble to find."

"Not when you find such pleasant places to hide," he replies, still wearing that easy smile, "but to be honest, I was actually hoping you'd accompany me for the day. I can finally afford to take a bit of time away from the castle, and I think you and I both would appreciate some space to breathe. What do you say?"

Correct once again. You nod, and take the arm he offers you. As he leads you out from the gardens, he points out a few more plants native to your new homeland. They're incredibly varied, each more strange and vibrant than the last. All the while, he's somehow made you feel as though you're chatting with an old friend. You leave the gardens and wander towards the area you vaguely recall to be designated for horse stables and wyvern stalls.

From there, a few things happen in sequence. Khalid asks if you're afraid of flying. He asks if you trust him to hold on to you. He helps you up onto the saddle that seems impossibly high up on its own right, and then, you're propelled into the air with a force your body has never felt before. You tense and shrink back against his chest, clinging to whatever part of the saddle you can find purchase on for dear life. Up here, it's difficult to pick up, but you feel your husband laugh behind you, then his strong arm wrap around your waist.

"Relax, I won't let anything happen to you," he says against your ear, his voice sure and steady, "I've got you."

And it takes a few miles of flying and a lot of Khalid distracting you by pointing out different buildings and shops along the streets below, but eventually, you do manage to relax- at least a little.

The castle town is positively buzzing with activity. Even from your distance in the sky above, you can see clusters of people moving around each other like fish up stream, and even hear the faint echoes of a merchant advertising goods.

"It doesn't seem at all like the Almyra we're taught about in Fodlan."

"Oh, it is," Khalid assures you with a bemused chuckle, "But it's also much more. I imagine it's the same for your people. There's a lot we can learn from one another, I think."

By the time the sun is high in the sky, you've passed the most densely settled part of town and are gliding over farmland and the occasional pocket of forest and rivers that split and cross through the earth like veins. Though, the warmer climate of Almyra will still take some getting used to, and it seems your husband considers this.

"Let's land for a bit and find some shade,"

You nod, and he directs his wyvern to begin a slow descent.

The King had thought of everything for this little day-trip, it seemed. Having evidently packed everything you'd need in the saddlebags on his steed, you now recline beside him on a plush blanket in a clearing amidst the trees. A small brook bubbles down from stone to stone in small waterfalls beside you, and the air feels positively alive with birdsong and rustling leaves, all foreign to you and all part of your new home. And so is he, you think as you glance over at the handsome figure of your husband beside you.

You'd been sitting in a comfortable quiet, munching on a couple of very dense pastries which Khalid had told you incorporated an extract of the flower you'd sampled earlier. He gives a satisfied sigh as he finishes his first and lies back on the blanket, taking in and savoring a deep breath. As you finish the last bites of your own treat, you reflect on the day thus far. You'd learned much about the locals and their daily lives by observation and Khalid's description in such a short time, and he'd even taught you a hand full of basic words and phrases in Almyran.

"Uhm, Khalid?"

He opens one eye and gives you a sideways glance.

"It was... dhonnobad, right? Thank you?"

His smile his open and warm, his eyes practically shimmering in the reflected sunlight from the nearby brook.

"Well, we'll have to work on your pronunciation, but I'm impressed you remembered," he beckons you down onto the blanket beside him, and you follow, lying on your side as he turns towards you. You're closer than you'd anticipated, even given the limited realestate of the blanket, and you internally scold yourself for being shy about something so silly- like some naive adolescent.

"Let's try a couple more words, since you've been such a diligent student."

"Okay," you say with a smile, "try me, I'll do my best."

"Hmm..." he looks around your private clearing, then gestures towards the brook and says, "Jala"

"Jala," you repeat slowly. He nods,

"Right- that's 'water'. And, uhm..." he points toward a patch of wildflowers at the edge of the brook, "Phula. That's 'flower'."

Again, you repeat as best you can, and though you know your pronunciation must be off, he's encouraging nonetheless. Then, he leans in towards you, and brings his free hand to your cheek, his fingertips brushing your skin lightly.

"Now try sundara."

"... Sundara?" you make an attempt, and you're sure you got something about that 's' sound mixed up, but Khalid just gives you a slanted smile. He doesn't clarify at first, so you ask, "What does that one mean?"

His fingers slowly weave back into your hair, and his voice is low and soothing as he replies,

"That means 'beautiful'."

Your face warms immediately, but you hardly have a moment to feel bashful about it before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you slow and deep. His movements are effortlessly sensual, pulling you towards him and sending your pulse pounding through your veins. You part your lips to him almost instinctively, and the way he uses his tongue is sparing, but oh-so effective. When he finally pulls away, your head is spinning and it's all you can do to meet his gaze.

"So... that's how they kiss in Almyra." you say, barely above a whisper. Khalid smirks and turns you onto your back, sliding an arm around your waist.

"Oh, no- there's no tradition in this, only skill."

Goddess- if they'd warned you of the King's supernatural charms, you wouldn't have believed them. But now his lips are on yours once again, and he's holding your body to his, and you can't think of anything else. Your arms drape across his shoulders, and faster than you can track, your bodies have met in a tangled, impassioned embrace. It was hard to imagine that mere kissing could feel so erotic, but something about his pace, about how his lips and hands move in tandem, about how thorough he is in exploring you, makes you feel like it would be only natural to give yourself over to him completely.

His kiss travels along your jawline up to the shell of your ear, where he nips briefly, then murmurs,

"I was hoping to apologize for how little time we've had to get to know each other before today," you bite at your bottom lip as his hand slides down to the curve of your hip, "if that would be pleasing to you, my dearest wife."

"Ye- yes..." you sigh into the open air as his lips reach your neck. The single word is all either of you need. He never stops pressing lavish kisses to your lips and neck as he pulls your clothing out of his way. By the time he's satisfied, your clothes are draped off your arms and pooling around you on the blanket- and he doesn't seem to care to remove them entirely. He has a goal in mind.

Slowly, painstakingly, he makes his way down your body. You feel him everywhere- hands tracing and memorizing your frame, breath hot across your skin as his lips spoil you with adoring kisses. Soon enough, he's kissed his way to your lower stomach, and he urges your thighs apart beneath him. You suppress the instinctive wave of embarrassment at being exposed to him for the first time- he is your husband and your King, afterall- but then, his head dips down towards your plump lower lips, and your mind goes white.

"Khalid-!" you gasp out as his tongue trails coyly up the crease of your folds. He hums contentedly, and places a disarmingly chaste kiss to the soft skin. Then, his thumbs gently spread you open for him, and your entire body burns while he takes a moment to merely admire you- your pretty little hole already wet, your clit already hard and flushed dark. When his head lowers once more, his green eyes meet yours steadily, as though to promise without words to be good to you.

And in a moment, his mouth begins to gently tease your clit, and your head tilts back on the blanket. Your hips jerk just a bit with each pass of his tongue across the sensitive bundle, and occasionally you can't hold in a gasp or whimper of pleasure. This only encourages him, of course. The more you moan and sigh, the more dedicated he becomes to your body. He presses himself more firmly to you, his lips surrounding your clit and the surrounding tender flesh, and he suckles on you, licks you, kisses you. You don't know when it happened, but your hands are at the back of his head, fists tangled in thick brown hair as he diligently works.

The unbearable tension is winding tight and anxious in your lower body- you know he'll drive you to climax before long, and the mere thought feels like falling in love. And then Khalid moves lower, and his tongue dips inside of your entrance. You gasp and unwittingly tug on his hair- but he certainly doesn't seem to mind. With a lustful groan, he presses more firmly to you, truly buried against your body as his dexterous tongue curls upward, stroking the vulnerable spot behind the nerves of your clit.

"Khalid!" this time it's nearly a scream, and you're grateful that your voice is lost in the surrounding foliage. Your thighs begin to shake, and your hands release him to instead clutch the blanket behind you. And at last, with a whimper in a voice you hardly recognize, your lower body floods with soaked warmth as your orgasm sweeps through you. Panting, twitching, you moan out for your husband over and over, until finally, the wave begins to subside, and Khalid pulls away to position himself above you on all fours.

"That's a nice expression..." he says with a grin, directing you to look at him with a hand at your chin, "I hope I'll get to see it often."

When your eyes finally refocus, you look up at him somewhat apologetically,

"I should... attend to you."

He laughs and kisses your forehead,

"There will be time for that tonight, don't you think? Once we're a bit more... put together," he says with a glance at your bare form, "we should head back to our ride. I'll bring you back to the castle, and we'll get the cooks to prepare something very 'Almyran' for you."

You nod- it probably wouldn't do for the first time with your Lord Husband to be mid-day in the woods. Though he'd certainly failed to make it seem unappealing.

"And then," he goes on, bringing a finger to trace the curve of your bottom lip, "Well, maybe we'll excuse ourselves to our bedchamber a bit early this evening, and we can continue this little... cultural exchange."

#why do these always end up so long urg #claude von reigen #fe3h #claude x reader #fire emblem smut #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem #feh #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem imagines #x reader #claude fire emblem #not sfw writing

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evienyx · 3 years

Text

DSMP Citizens POV- Part 1

I've seen a lot of the memes going around, but I'm not funny enough to write that, so here's my addition to the trend :p

This is part one, because I had a lot of fun with this and want to do it more.

- - -

DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

- - -

Sometimes, it was odd for the residents of the Dream SMP to be reminded of the fact that the constant state of chaos that their server was in was not, in fact, reflective of every server.

"Why did we move here?" One woman in Snowchester whispers to another as the sirens go off for yet another nuke test and they duck down into their bunker.

The other shrugs. She doesn't have an answer. No one does.

Things started out all right, the people supposed. There weren't any wars, at least. Some of those who lived on the server before the Revolution could remember back far enough to tell you about the first true conflict, between Dream, the creator of their home, and TommyInnit, a sixteen-year-old who could yell shockingly loud, even for a teenager. Dream fought against Tommy and Tubbo (yet another teenager), and it seemed to all be in good fun.

Some will tell you now, though, that the signs of tension were already there, and when Wilbur Soot joined, those tensions only escalated.

One moment, things on the server were normal, the next, there was a Revolution.

"Did anyone else hear Dream shouting about 'white flags' this morning?" One person would ask their friends, and receive nods in return. "Anyone know what it's about?"

"A Revolution," one would respond. "Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are starting a new country."

"Oh," the first would hum. "How long until they get completely crushed?"

"Eh, I give 'em a week."

It was only a week, but it did not end the way anyone thought it would. Instead, L'Manburg gained its independence after TommyInnit gave up his discs once he lost a duel with Dream.

"Is the L'Manburg cabinet missing someone?"

"No, I don't think so. Anyway, did you hear that Dream just declared that Eret is to be crowned king?"

"...Can he do that?"

"He's Dream. He can do whatever he wants."

After the Revolution, when the server finally had more than one ruling faction, more than one place to live, things seemed to pick up a bit. President Soot, with Vice President Innit (VP Tommy, the people called him), ruled over L'Manburg, and called it a place of freedom. When word spread to other servers, people came to see for themselves.

And often, they stayed.

It was peaceful, for a while.

"President Soot announced he's holding an election," one man said to his wife one day.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Said it was for democracy." The man snorted. "He and Innit are the only party running, though. Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me."

"Darling, I know you're still salty about losing the war, but there's no reason to talk bad about a child," his wife said.

The man wrinkled his nose. "Still."

It was peaceful during the campaign.

For a while.

Then, though, Quackity announced that he was running for president, with GeorgeNotFound, best friend of Dream himself, as his running mate.

"This feels like a sitcom," one girl says as she watches the debate reruns with her friends.

"At least it's entertaining," her friend replies, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

And, for the people of the Dream SMP, from both L'Manburg and the Greater SMP, it was entertaining.

Until the election results came in, Schlatt was declared the winner, and President Soot and VP Tommy were banished.

"Dude, dude!" One teen says to their friends, running up to meet them on the Prime Path.

"What is it?"

"I just saw Technoblade join the server!"

The arrival of the Blood God shifted something in the people of the Dream SMP. When he joined Pogtopia, the rebellion being led by the two ex-leaders of the country, the people felt something settle within themselves.

All of a sudden, choosing sides wasn't as simple as where you live.

It was what you care about.

As the son of the ex-president burned down the old flag, the people of the Dream SMP, of (L')Manburg and of the Greater SMP, realized suddenly that they had to make a choice.

Without even wanting to, without doing anything to deserve it, they would have to fight.

Some people went to Pogtopia, some stayed in Manburg, some in the Greater SMP. Those in the latter two stayed where they were because they wanted to stay out of it.

It didn't change anything, in the end.

In Manburg, they watched their president (Emperor) fall further and further into alcohol, yelling at his cabinet and talking of expanding into territory that they had no right to.

In the Greater SMP, murmurs of King Eret's attempts to assist the Pogtopia rebels filled the alleyways.

In Pogtopia, people sat and watched the decline of the man that they had all once believed in. As Wilbur Soot slowly devolved until he was no longer recognizable as the man who had once led people to freedom, the residents of Pogtopia ate potatoes farmed by a man famous for his bloodlust and pretended that they were sleeping somewhere warm.

The day of the Manburg Festival, though, things felt better. Other than ex-president Soot and ex-VP Tommy (Wilbur and Tommy, the two insisted. No one listened), everyone, even the rebels in Pogtopia, were invited to attend. The people wandered through the stalls playing games, watching as Soot's son attempted (in vain) to drown Technoblade, buying food, and chatting with people from other factions, friends and family that they hadn't spoken to in weeks.

When the time came for the speeches, before the true festivities were set to begin, everyone was feeling good about the day. People congratulated Secretary Tubbo for a successful event, and offered him small words of encouragement for his speech coming up. The teenager would grin at all who spoke to him, and looked (rightfully) proud of how well he organized and decorated the festival.

Secretary Tubbo gave his speech, and people clapped, and then fell silent as President (Emperor) Schlatt laughed, asked for his Vice-President's assistance, and encased the teenager in a cage of concrete.

And then he called Technoblade to the stage.

And then, in front of the people of the Dream SMP, a teenager was executed in a spray of color that shot toward the sky.

Fireworks rained down on the people in the stands, then, and, regardless of where they were from, the people of the Dream SMP ran.

The Pogtopia ranks grew that day, and a nineteen-year-old who claimed to be a doctor without showing any credentials forced four other people to help her heal VP Tommy after he fought Technoblade in a pit, egged on by a man who once might have called himself his brother.

"How is this kid not dead yet?" One of the helpers asked, looking at the unconscious teenager's face.

"Pure spite?"

The first hummed. "Sounds about right."

One day, a bit after the festival, the people of Pogtopia woke to find Vice President Quackity walking through the ravine as if he owned the place.

One resident was noted to rub his eyes, blink three times, and then say, "It's too early for this shit," before heading back to bed.

A surprising number of people followed his lead.

Finally, the day of November 16th came, when Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit vowed to take their country back.

"I heard President Soot is planning to blow up L'Manburg," one Pogtopian woman mentioned to her friend as they suited up and prepared to fight, as they had signed up to be part of the forces.

"That's stupid," her friend replied.

"Bet you ten diamonds he blows something up."

"Fine."

As the country of L'Manburg blew sky-high, one woman was seen following another, screaming that she wanted her diamonds.

When Pogtopia won the war, the forces from both sides sat outside of the remains of the van as President Soot, VP Tommy, Secretary Tubbo, Dream, Technoblade, and many more, all piled inside to confront Emperor Schlatt.

They emerged fifteen minutes later, and Dream announced to the crowd that Schlatt was dead.

There was no time for the news to sink in, as they played hot potato with the presidency, going from VP Tommy to Wilbur Soot to Secretary Tubbo.

"President Soot is leaving, do you see that?"

"Probably going to the river to celebrate the win, if you know what I mean."

"Literally shut up. Never speak again. I hate you."

As the newly-inaugurated President Tubbo finished his speech, the people felt a wave of relief wash over them. Maybe the server could finally be peaceful once more.

Then, there was the tell-tale hiss of explosives under their feet, and the people ran as the ground beneath them fell away.

Stories of what happened next are conflicting, to say the least.

Words of President Soot dying in the explosion, of him turning the blade on himself, of another man killing him.

"He had wings," people who saw the man said. "Blonde hair, a green hat and robes. He stabbed Soot with the guy's own sword."

Technoblade apparently gave an incredible speech, and anyone who was there to witness it lamented that they hadn't recorded it.

Then, two Withers flew through the sky, and blood ran down the newly-exposed stones, and people who had never experienced death on the server before finally knew what it was like to die.

Afterward, though, when the anarchist had fled and the ex-President lay dead, President Tubbo, with VP Tommy by his side, stood and addressed the people, and made promises of a brighter future, and the hope and determination in his eyes was enough for the people to hope that maybe he was right.

("Whoa, cool wings, dude," a resident of L'Manburg said to their newest neighbor, a man in green with wings, burned across all the feathers, sprouting from his back. "Wait, what happened to them?"

"Oh, I was protecting my son from the explosion," the new resident replied.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Is your son all right at least?"

"No, he died just a few minutes afterward. His last life, too." The man sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, he probably deserved it."

A beat. "What did he do?"

"Well, you may have heard of him. Wilbur Soot? He was the president here before Schlatt, I believe."

"...Holy shit, you're the bird man that killed President Soot!"

"Yeah, mate, that's me."

"...He was your son?"

"...Yeah."

"...What the fuck is wrong with your family?")

#dsmp citizen pov #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp citizen memes #these memes have been the funniest thing stg #theyre bringing some good laughs to me at the least #anyway this one was a little angsty and a little long-winded #i wanna do one soon that is more direct #like from the pov of one particular person #when i have time i will bc this was really fun #mcyt #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #dsmp citizens #tubbo #dream

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ghostofbambifanfiction · 3 years

Text

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

#Jily #Part 1 #Of 3?#Honestly I just wanted to give you guys a treat

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tubbocio · 3 years

Note

Okay, take on endersmile, what if Dream gets really dis-hearted in prison? Like he’s given Techno all that he needs to break Dream out but yet it feels like eternity. When Techno does come, Dreams out of it, not trusting anyone. Anyone but his best friend, enderboo who is trying to raise his sprits. Enderboo without question gives his crown to Dream declaring that Dream is the true king here.

Anon this has been in my inbox for a while I'm so sorry I've wanted to write a drabble for a while now rip. I hope you don't mind I changed the prompt slightly and tried a new writing style with minimal dialogue (they only really talk in the end lmao)

anyway! enjoy!!

It's been 3 weeks since Techno broke Dream out of prison. No one knows what happened after Techno had gotten out initially, but when Dream arrived at the arctic commune, it was almost like he wasn't there at all.

3 days. That's how long it took until he looked at anyone with any sort of recognition. But even then he only looked at them reproachfully, primed to leap away at a moment's notice. Techno visited Dream every day and brought him food, tried to talk to him. But he was only met with the same untrusting, fearful look. It was almost disheartening.

After a week of living with Dream in his basement, Techno finally brought himself to call a Syndicate meeting.

He broke the news to them quickly and in detail, explaining what happened before and during his visit. Niki took it with stride, simply nodding and warning Techno to keep an eye on him. She promised to pay attention to any progress Sam and Quackity might've made in their search. Ranboo, on the other hand, made a sound akin to a wounded enderman at hearing the news. As Techno spoke, his attempts at suppressing distress failed more and more until at some point he just stopped and listened to Techno quietly. The only thing betraying his calm demeanor was the clenched hands he had laying on his lap, tightening at Techno's description of the events of the prison.

After the meeting, Ranboo approached Techno as Phil and Niki chatted and left on a boat together. His nervous request at seeing Dream was met with a deadpan stare. It took a lot of convincing and a little bit of begging, but Techno finally agreed to let him see Dream, but only if he could stay and supervise. Ranboo agreed to this readily.

The next day he appeared at Techno's Cabin bright and early. Techno's disgruntled look and tousled fur did not deter the bright smile on Ranboo's face. With a Tired sigh, Techno turned and led Ranboo down to the basement and into a secret entrance off the side. Ranboo had to bend down to fit through the doorway, but finally, he arrived at a door at the end of the hallway. He turned to Techno who sighed and explained that Dream was free to go at any moment, but he refused to leave and had been holed in this room for over a week. Ranboo frowned at this and only nodded. After only a little bit of hesitance, he opened the door.

Dream was there, sitting on a chair, back facing the farthest corner of the fairly large room, staring at the door as if it was going to open up to an army. Upon seeing Techno and Ranboo, his shoulders relaxed slightly. Still, in a quiet, shaky voice, he called out Ranboo's name. His voice was hoarse, either from misuse or overexertion. Ranboo's face fell, but he nodded slightly and hurried forward. Techno reached out to stop him, mouth open to warn him, tell him to give Dream space. But his words caught in his throat when Dream jumped to his feet and stumbled toward Ranboo, falling into Ranboo's open arms as soon as the two met in the middle. Techno looked at them for a beat longer, before deciding that it was best if he waited outside for Ranboo.

As Dream hugged Ranboo tightly, he cried. For the first time in months, he cried out of joy and relief. For about 30 minutes they just sat in the middle of the room, on the floor, holding each other and crying. Finally, Dream pulled away and thanked Ranboo quietly. After this, they just sat and spoke in quiet tones.

It almost became a routine. Ranboo came over every day at least once, differing hours of the day, to visit Dream. They stayed in that small room, talking, reading, sitting quietly. One day though, Dream is extra quiet, staring at a far wall. It was a fairly quiet day. Until Dream spoke up quietly and asked if the server was doing better without him. His voice taking that shaky, fragile tone it took sometimes. Like he was about to shatter in a million pieces if someone said the wrong word.

Ranboo was quiet for a few seconds before he quietly took off his crown and placed it on Dream's head, who looked up at Ranboo with a frowning, confused look on his face. Ranboo smiled and spoke up,

"Who cares? You're here now. You're out. And because of that, it's already better. One less person suffering on the server."

Dream looked away and hugged his knees, the smallest smile gracing his lips.

(Later, Dream spoke up, "Ranboo.. why the fuck did you give me your crown?" "I- I don't know?? It helps me calm down, okay?!" Ranboo looked away, embarrassed.

And if Phil and Techno heard wheezing laughter all the way in the kitchen well, nobody needed to know.)

#my writing #ask #anonymous #dreblr #endersmile #dsmp #this is entirely fluff with minimal hurt

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oreomonsterhunter · 3 years

Text

Life Sucks

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Word Count: 10K (I know.....this was a surprise for me, too)

Genre: fluff, romantic comedy

Warnings: language (our characters have a tendency to curse, apparently)

Summary: Sunshine reader is in love with love, but hasn’t had much luck with it herself. When she meets Minho, a self-proclaimed cynic and disbeliever of “true love”, she’s determined to change his life. If she can’t find the love of her life, she’s going to try to find his.

This fic was inspired by a tag game once upon a time. It was supposed to be a short drabble, but apparently I can’t hold back with Minho. Tag game featured this specific Lee Know and just kinda spiraled from there lol

Nearing the end of January, winter sometimes seemed endless. Yet when you stepped out into the morning chill, you were pleasantly surprised to find the snow banks melting a bit. Your boots splashed through small puddles as you strode down the street, and you smiled softly at the lavender sky. It was still early enough—for a Saturday—that the sidewalks weren’t too packed yet, so you indulged in a more leisurely walk than usual, dancing along to the music from your headphones. You caught a few odd looks, but you simply smiled and waved at everyone you passed. They could judge your happiness all they wanted, nothing could possibly spoil your day when it was off to such a good start—

“Shit,” you gasped, jumping back onto the curb as a car barrelled through a red light. Had you been a second slower, you would’ve been a vehicular manslaughter case. “Asshole,” you hollered after them, flipping two middle fingers in the air.

You exhaled a sharp breath through your nose, attempting to banish the exasperation and get back into your music again. More careful this time, you double checked both ways down the street before entering the crosswalk.

Unfortunately, your streak of bad luck continued. Just as you hopped off the street, a truck passed by behind you, tires bumping through a pothole. And with the recent snowmelt, this resulted in a spray of cold water hitting the backs of your legs.

You froze, mind stuttering as you tried to comprehend how the morning had taken such a turn, all within your first five minutes outside. Pursing your lips, you twisted around to inspect the damage. The dirty water might stain your jeans, but the most pressing matter was the cold and wet denim now plastered to your legs from your calves to the backs of your knees. You bit your lip, contemplating just turning back and spending the whole day in your apartment. Pajamas, a blanket, hot coffee and tea readily available. Maybe a movie, just because you could.

Then you shook your head, determined to make the best of the day. You wanted a cappuccino, dammit. And chocolate babka from the cafe. No homicidal drivers or puddles could stop you. It was a Saturday, just past sunrise, and you had a whole day ahead of you. No need to wallow a few minutes in. And besides, who knew what would happen.

You set off for the cafe, determination heavy in each step. You forced a smile back onto your lips, though it was thinner than before. You switched to a different playlist so that your boots could thump the concrete in time. And you breathed, spooling calmness back into yourself.

It was a Saturday. You might meet the love of your life today. And nothing could stop you from finding out.

The bell over the front door jingled merrily, and you softened a little further, relaxing into the familiar surroundings. You hardly even noticed the damp denim chafing your legs as you skipped up to the counter.

Ruth, currently manning the register, chuckled as she rang up another customer. “Well would you look at that, the sun came shining right in our front door,” she said.

“Good morning,” you giggled. You waved to Jonathan, Ruth’s husband, in the back. The couple had been running the little cafe and bakery for years, and you were a faithful customer, coming by at least once a week since you first moved to the neighborhood.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he called, hands busy kneading dough for what would doubtless become something delicious. You hummed thoughtfully, considering the baked goods in the glass case before you.

“Your usual?”

You tapped a finger on your chin, “You know, the poppy seed muffins look awfully tempting. I might just have to switch it up today.”

Ruth nodded, tapping on the register. You handed over the requisite bills and she shooed you off, sliding the muffin over the counter. “Go on now, a table opened up by the window, perfect spot. I’ll bring the coffee in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you said, but Ruth was already fussing over the espresso machine. Shaking your head, you weave through the maze of tables and chairs, dodging patrons on your way to the window seat.

You had your eyes on the prize, and you were only a few feet from the chair when you pulled up short. A stranger, their back to you, plopped down in your chair. You blinked, suddenly and painfully aware of your wet pants, the muffin growing cool in your hand, the fact that you could give up now and walk home but perhaps you’d just get hit by a car and never get a chance to enjoy your breakfast. You sighed deeply, breathing out through your nose as you closed your eyes, seeking inner peace or something.

“Can I help you?”

The voice knocked you out of your momentary meditation, and you looked at the table thief in surprise. He loosened the fluffy scarf around his neck before sliding his arms out of his winter coat. A beret, of all things, tilted dangerously to the side before he adjusted it on his head. He looked like some kind of absent-minded professor, but for the youthful features that peered up at you. A sharp nose, tinted red from the cold, and a soft mouth. Dark and depthless eyes, paired with high cheekbones and a cutting jawline.

You realized you were staring when he waved at you, eyes widened. “Hello?”

“Um, sorry, I just,” you stammered, lost for words.

“Do you want to sit or something?”

You stopped again, mouth dropping open. You checked the time—you had fifteen minutes or so, enough time for another table to open up. “Uh, sure, if that’s ok with you. I was hoping for a table, I’m meeting someone,” you said, beginning to ramble.

“No problem, I don’t need all this space, and I’ll head out soon,” he cut you off, raising one brow at you when you continued to stand there, rooted to the spot.

Ruth’s arrival with your cappuccino was what ultimately forced your hand. You sat down, gratefully accepting the drink, your smile less shaky with a taste of the familiar.

“I didn’t think they did table service,” the stranger mused.

“They don’t, I just know the owners,” you shook your head, cutting yourself off when you saw his disinterest. “Sorry, I should introduce myself,” you switched tacks, giving your name with a bright grin. So what if it was forced?

The stranger looked at you, and his lips twitched in a shadow of a smirk. “Minho,” he responded.

Silence fell, heavy and awkward, and you found yourself leaning forward desperately. “So how’s your day so far?”

Minho snorted, reaching for his own drink—an iced americano, you guessed, despite it being the middle of winter. “Probably better than yours.”

“What?” your brows furrowed in confusion.

He gestured to your legs with one hand. “Unfortunate accident this morning?”

Your lips tightened, holding back a frown, “Puddles, you know.”

Minho sighed, sounding sympathetic now, rather than snarky. “Yeah, life sucks, doesn’t it?” And there was the sarcasm again.

“One or two bad things doesn’t mean life sucks,” you countered, sipping your coffee. “I’m excited about the rest of the day, it’s not even eight in the morning! And it’s the weekend, and it’s sunny and warm, and I have hot coffee and a delicious muffin, and the world is out there and ready to be enjoyed,” you finished, lips curling up as you looked out the window at the sunrise, the horizon flaming golden.

“Sounds like you’ve never had a job,” a harsh voice cut into your admiration. Your smile faltered as you looked back at Minho. You gaped at him, brain processing the way this soft-looking boy sounded like the king of cynics. The last thing you expected from someone wearing a fuzzy beret and looking like a sly teddy bear was this blunt conversation. “No one’s that excited when they have to work fifty plus hour weeks to pay the bills. Trust fund baby?” he inquired, sipping calmly.

Yep, there was no fighting the frown now. “No, and I don’t appreciate the judgement. Why can’t I just be happy?”

Minho smirked, “Never said you can’t. I just wanted to see if you had a personality beyond being Positive Polly.”

Your eyes flamed, but your phone buzzed, distracting you before you could smite the snarky boy. You fumbled at your coat pocket, whipping out the device to check for a new message. You slumped—just a spam email.

“Waiting for something important?” Minho asked, tilting his head.

You huffed, shoving the device back in your pocket. “As a matter of fact, yes,” you sassed, tossing your hair over one shoulder. “I’m waiting for a date.”

He hummed at you, expression unreadable. “You’re too excited.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, eyeing the clock on the far wall of the cafe.

“You’re significantly early, watching the clock like a hawk, and they haven’t even texted you an update.” He took a long sip. “What time is your date anyway? Eight in the morning? They’re not coming.”

Your smile faltered again. Damn him, why was a total stranger dimming your joy? You shoved your chair back, even though no tables had opened up yet. You’d wait by the counter and chat with Ruth. Anything was better than this asshole.

Minho glanced over his shoulder, checking the clock himself. “Five past, and still nothing,” he commented.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

A spark appeared in his eyes, and he grinned. “Good to see you have some backbone,” he commented.

You could’ve sworn steam was coming out of your ears, but your phone vibrated again. You checked the lock screen, seeing a new text pop up from Jay: hey I can’t make it. You swiped on the message, but nothing followed it. Seriously? That was it? No explanation, and not even a half-assed apology?

“Told you so.”

You spun to face Minho, glare renewed. “And what makes you so sure of yourself and my date?” you demanded.

He snorted, “Life sucks; so does dating. The only thing you’re guaranteed is disappointment.”

Your anger faded slightly as you watched the boy sip his iced coffee, his silhouette stark against the snow outside. When you took a breath to get past your own mingled frustration—both at Jay and your new snarky companion—you saw the tense lines of his face. You wondered what disappointment had left Minho so defensive.

“Alright, enlighten me,” you said, throwing yourself back in the chair. This time, you settled in, sliding out of your coat and leaning forward with your coffee. “Who broke your heart?”

A look of disgust slid over those pretty features. “No one broke anything,” he scoffed, turning to the window and giving you another dose of his sharp profile. You rested your chin on your hand thoughtfully, just watching him and waiting. “Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered. “You’re not my therapist.”

“But I am a perfectly kind stranger. And strangers are the easiest people to talk to,” you said sunnily.

“And don’t sound so happy.”

“No can do, people call me Sunshine for a reason.”

Minho gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not calling you that.”

Now you were the one with a cocky smirk, “Why, does it hurt your delicate masculinity?”

A beat of silence, and then, “One of my best friends is called Sunshine.” Minho looked at you sharply. “I’m not calling you that,” he said again.

You waved him off, oddly touched in spite of his gruff tone. This human version of grumpy cat had a best friend named Sunshine? Incredible, and surprisingly soft of him. “Ok fine, no arguments from me. Tell me about her. Or him, whoever it is,” you stumbled over your words.

Minho didn’t seem to notice your blundering. He stared somewhere beyond your shoulder, “No one broke my heart.” Then his eyes focused on you again as he asserted, “I’ve just experienced enough to know better than to hope blindly. The world isn’t looking out for you.”

Humming, you folded your arms as you considered his statements. “Well, I believe in true love,” you started.

“Why am I not surprised?” Minho groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I also believe in the power of positive thinking,” you continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Ignoring his dramatic moaning, you steamrolled ahead. “Yeah, my morning turned out pretty shitty, but if I just go crawl back in bed, I’ll have wasted a whole day over something as silly as wet jeans.”

“Wet jeans and being stood up.”

“And being stood up,” you allowed, gritting your teeth to maintain a smile. “But if I let that stop me from living my life, then I’ve let the negative win. If I go check out a new dating app or two and keep trying, one day I’ll have something good.”

Minho put his coffee down, resting one hand on the table as he met your eyes, gaze hard. “Listen, nothing good comes out of a dating app. You’re wasting your time. And didn’t you say you hate doing that?”

You wanted to argue, but your friends had told you much of the same. Minho was just less polite in his delivery. But you hadn’t had any luck with real life men, either. Case in point: your irritating argument with the perfectly attractive guy in front of you. So that left apps, even if the pickings were regrettably slim. And only growing slimmer, if the ghost date was any indication. You didn’t have the guts to tell Minho that this wasn’t the first time you’d been stood up.

Then you had an idea. Your grin widened, and Minho’s irritated expression faded into apprehension. “Well if I’m doomed to never find love,” you started, batting your eyelashes teasingly. “Why don’t I look for the love of your life instead?”

Minho blanched, recoiling with enough force that his chair rocked back on two legs. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“I think it’s a terrific idea,” you beamed at him. “I’ve been a successful matchmaker for a bunch of my friends, too. I’ve just had trouble finding my own love interest.”

“What is this, a rom com?” he hissed.

You clapped your hands, overcome with excitement for the first time since the puddle. “Oh, a romance, I wish,” you nearly swooned at the thought. “I promise I’ll do my best. You’d get along great with one of my friends, they’re just as irritable as you.”

Minho exhaled sharply, massaging his forehead with one hand. He closed his eyes, muttering, “What am I doing here?”

“Wait, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. No matchmaking until I know you better,” you amended, whipping out a notebook and pen from your bag. You had just about everything in there—you never knew what emergency might pop up, like brainstorming a match for a stranger. “What are some of your hobbies? Favorite color? Ooh, what about first date activities you love? Oh my goodness, wait, are you looking for men or women?”

Part of you expected Minho to shove his chair back and leave. You wouldn’t be too upset, that just meant you’d have the table to yourself, even if you weren’t waiting on a date anymore. But you didn’t totally hate this guy. And another part of you kind of felt bad for him. He’d never experienced love! Not that you’d had a taste of true love, either, but you knew what was out there. And it was a shame that he didn’t see that too. It was like...someone hating your favorite holiday—unacceptable, if only because you wanted everyone to enjoy it as much as you did.

You begrudgingly admitted that another teeny tiny part of you thought he was too attractive to be so cynical of love. Some lucky girl out there was waiting for Minho, and you were gonna help her out, even if it meant dragging the man kicking and screaming towards her.

But Minho didn’t do what you expected. He didn’t storm off, coffee in hand, scarf flapping in the wind dramatically. He sighed and stood up, but made no move for his coat. “If we’re doing this, I need more coffee,” he said, then turned and made a beeline for the counter without any further explanation.

You blinked after him, more than a bit surprised. He was...going along with this? You tapped the pen against your chin thoughtfully, watching his shoulders flex beneath his turtleneck as he talked to Ruth. His head turned slightly, and you caught a glimpse of his smile—a real one—taking your breath away.

Now, if only you could get him to smile like that for any potential dates. You clicked your pen with renewed vigor, laughing when Minho approached with a new coffee, exasperation written into every line of his face.

* * * * *

It was a lovely Thursday night, and you were curled up on the couch in your comfiest pajamas. Your only companions were a blanket, a mug of tea, and your phone, which you checked every fifteen seconds. The first time all week that Minho hadn’t answered your messages, and it was the night of his first date. You were buzzing with anticipation, practically vibrating as you waited for news, not caring who it came from first.

Finally, you gave up waiting, throwing the blanket as you went to reheat your tea, since you’d let it grow cold while refreshing your messages. The second you reached the kitchen, however, you heard a buzz. You dashed to the couch, scrambling for your phone to find a text from Mari:

He had to dip early, lame date

You nearly screeched. He left? Your fingers pounded the screen:

What!?!?!! Did he say whyyy?

Mari’s response was short and to the point:

An “emergency”

You could read between the lines. Mari was irritated, to say the least, since the blind date had been your brilliant idea. But what on earth had happened with Minho? Your stomach dropped, considering that he might have an actual emergency. You quickly tapped out a message to him to check in, gnawing your lip in worry.

Hey, Mari said you had an emergency, is everything ok?

You waited what felt like ten thousand years before finally seeing the little bubbles appear. His message, however, was not worth the wait:

Didn’t get on with her

You fumed, pressing dial on his contact with enough force, you were amazed your screen didn’t crack. “You left because you didn’t like her?” you screeched as soon as he picked up.

“Yes.”

Gaping like a fish, you fumbled for words to explain how bad that was. “You can’t just—”

“But I did,” Minho cut you off.

“But you can’t,” you said, exasperated. “Jeez, I thought you knew what you were doing. Obviously not. You need a practice date or something so my friends don’t murder you.”

Now it was Minho’s turn to squawk indignantly. “I do not need practice,” he started.

“Yes, obviously you do. You might look like a player but you’ve obviously never talked to a girl for more than ten minutes,” you scolded him. “Who leaves in the middle of a date? With that bad of an excuse?”

“I hate wasting my time. Didn’t we discuss how we should avoid doing that with our love lives,” he snarked.

You groaned, “There’s a difference between not wasting your time and being rude as heck.”

“So what? She was abrasive, rude, cynical, and had a terrible sense of humor,” Minho said, as casually as if he was discussing the weather. “I can’t believe you’re friends.”

“That’s a pretty great description of you, too,” you sassed back, irritation taking over. “We might not be that close, but you can’t just insult everyone I set you up with.”

“Who said I wanted you to set me up with anyone?”

“I assumed you did, otherwise why are you going along with this?” you tried your best to calm down, lower your voice. But something about Minho just put your back up.

“Uh,” Minho actually seemed lost for words. Your ears perked up, eager to catch his answer. “My mom wants to set me up with her friends’ daughters,” he tossed out at last.

Seemed a bit too easy. “Sure,” you drawled, leaning back on the couch.

“Yes, really,” he sneered, and you giggled, picturing the exact expression on his face.

“Ok, whatever you say,” you allowed, laughing slightly. “But you’re still going on a practice date. Tomorrow night, six o’clock. Meet me at the cafe. If you’re not there, I’m gonna find your mom and help her out.”

You hung up on him before he could argue with you, grinning madly as you concocted your plan.

* * * * *

You half expected to wait for Minho to show up, much like your friend did, but much to your surprise, he was waiting for you under the awning when you arrived. “You’re late,” Minho accused, and you grinned sheepishly. You may or may not have lied about the time. Just in case.

“The queen is never late. Everyone else is simply early,” you quipped. Minho rolled his eyes—absolutely what you expected. You giggled, linking your arm through his and tugging him down the sidewalk with you.

“Woah,” Minho yanked at his arm, trying to free himself. “If you wanted to hold hands, you could have asked.”

“You’re too much of a grinch, you’d just say no.”

“Exactly. It’s called consent, sweetheart.”

He nearly fell at the sudden freedom when you released him, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets to escape the chill. “Alright, follow me then, you unromantic dork.” He muttered under his breath as you skipped away, having fun despite his attitude. Time to show him what a real date looked like.

Five seconds later, and not even two blocks from the cafe, Minho groaned, “Are we there yet?”

“No.”

A pause, then, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” you told him, not for the first time. He’d texted you all night, demanding to know, but your lips were sealed.

Except a certain someone seemed determined to annoy the answers out of you. “Are we there yet?”

You sighed, your skip feeling a little less peppy. “No.”

“Are we—”

“Minho,” you ground out. “If you ask me that one more time, I’m taking you to get your nails done.”

“Ok, sure. I could use a bit of pampering,” he said, the epitome of casual.

You stared at him. “This feels like a trick,” you said slowly.

A grin flashed, “That’s because it is. It’s after six, they’re all closed by now.” But then he frowned slightly. “Now you have me wanting a manicure though, I’ve never gotten one.”

Your brows were practically in your hairline but you just nodded. “Ok, another time, then,” you agreed. You caught sight of a familiar street sign and quickened your steps. “Almost there,” you were nearly vibrating in excitement. You felt Minho’s eyes on you, your skin prickling with awareness, but you ignored him in favor of racing around the street corner. And there it was—the zoo! All lit up...all lit…...not lit up at all. Your feet stumbled to a halt.

“So the zoo is open at night now?” Minho inquired at your shoulder.

You gaped at the dark expanse before you. “But where are the lights?” Because indeed, not a single light was on in the zoo. You’d just visited, not too long ago, and they had been open for night visits, so guests could walk around and see the trees all lit up, and wave hello to a few animals in the enclosures.

“Lights?”

“The Christmas lights,” you cried out, frantic. “They were up the last time I was here.”

“You mean a month ago? For Christmas? Back when it was still December?” Minho questioned you. You nearly snapped back before you realized. It was January. February next week. Of course the lights were down, what kind of idiot were you?

You groaned in defeat, slumping against the wall and sliding down to a crouch. You threw your arms over your head. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, then. I’m sorry I made you walk all this way,” you mumbled into your knees, wishing you could disappear into the sidewalk. Gosh, and you’d really dragged him along, hadn’t you? He obviously hadn’t been that excited, and all of your mysterious “it’s a surprise” nonsense only made this a bigger disappointment.

“It’s a Friday night, things are still open, you know,” Minho pointed out. “So what if you somehow forgot a whole month happened. I forget the year sometimes.”

“What are you, an old man?” you tried to perk up, but the tease fell flat.

“I’m only twenty-two. You must be ancient.” You picked up your head to look at him. A faint smile curled on his lips as he played along.

“Oh my gosh, I’m your noona. If you’re a grandpa, then I’m practically in the grave,” you forced out a chuckle.

Minho’s smile grew, and he extended a hand. “Come on, get up. Night’s still young.”

For a moment, you simply stared at his hand. Then you met his dark gaze, “You aren’t going to take advantage of this? I thought you hated the whole practice date idea.”

He sighed, wiggling his fingers at you. “I don’t hate spending time with you, alright? Now get up or I’m leaving you here.”

Your mouth twitched, a true smile threatening to form, and not just a cover-up. You slid your hand in his gratefully, and Minho pulled you to your feet with more strength than you thought he had. You blinked at him, realizing he hadn’t let your hand go yet. But the second his eyes followed your gaze, he dropped it, sliding his hands into his pants pockets instead.

“So where to?” Minho asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, remembering a pretty little outdoor skating rink, but the skies cracked open, interrupting you with a sudden deluge. You gasped as the first fat raindrops splattered on your forehead, eyes widening before you made a mad dash for the nearest storefront, Minho already a few steps ahead of you.

You’d barely been in the rain for a minute, but the icy water had your teeth chattering already. Had it been any colder, this would’ve been pretty snow. Instead, you got an arctic firehose.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you peered down the street. Beside you, Minho checked a weather app, hissing through his teeth. “Looks like rain all night,” he muttered.

You groaned again, wanting to cry. You’d completely messed up the evening, first with the lights, and now by not checking the weather. You’d planned an outdoor date, why hadn’t you checked?

A hand brushed your shoulder lightly, barely detectable through your coat. “Um, this might not be what you had planned, but my apartment is actually on this street. Wanna just order pizza?”

Your first instinct was a vehement “no”, but you stopped that answer on the tip of your tongue. Minho wasn’t one of the sleazy guys you’d gone out with in the past, the ones who’d thought an apartment invite was more than that. Plus, this wasn’t a real date or anything. It was a practice date, just pals, nothing crazy about that. So why couldn’t you grab pizza at his place? Especially with the monsoon and a long walk back to your own place. And no umbrella.

You found yourself nodding, shivers wracking your body. Minho’s teeth flashed in another fierce grin, “Alright, sweetheart, let’s make a run for it. In three, two, one—”

The two of you raced down the slick sidewalks, dodging lampposts and puddles alike. You skidded to a stop at one of the apartment buildings, nearly slamming into Minho’s back as he yanked the door open, and the two of you tumbled into the warm lobby. Once out of the wet, Minho shook his head like a dog, water droplets spraying everywhere, and you shrieked, hands coming up to protect yourself.

“Sorry,” Minho laughed, not sounding apologetic in the least. “I’m on the sixth floor, so we can take the elevator,” he said, pointing you in the right direction.

The ride up was awkward; the only sound was your jacket zipper rattling from the force of your shivers. Minho unlocked the door to his apartment, waving a hand dramatically. You stepped inside tentatively, toeing off your boots by the door. You watched Minho follow suit, then pad over to a closet along one wall. Your confusion abated when he emerged with towels, passing one to you with raised brows. The two of you were still soaking wet, and you didn’t want to track rainwater all over his apartment.

Minho was already drying his head off one-handed. When he stopped, letting the towel slip down to rest on his shoulders, you giggled at the sight of his hair. He made a face, only adding to the comic effect of his hair standing on end.

“I know you drink coffee, but what about hot tea?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen while you continued to dab at your clothes.

You nodded enthusiastically, eyeing the space from where you stood in the entryway. It was pretty minimal, not a ton of color or anything, but cozy. Black couch, gray curtains, some photos on the wall. Fairly tidy, but definitely nothing out of a magazine. A meow at your feet interrupted your train of thought, and you looked down to coo at the cats that were slowly approaching. “Well aren’t you gorgeous,” you complimented the bravest of the three, who nosed at your hand gingerly.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho said, pointing at each cat in turn. He leaned on the counter while waiting for the water to boil.

“They’re adorable,” you beamed at him. “And much more friendly.”

“Hey,” he narrowed his eyes. “I’m friendly.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed at him. Your mirth was interrupted by a fierce shiver, reminding you that you might not be dripping wet, but your clothes were still icy cold.

Minho eyed you as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “I have sweats you can borrow.”

You started to protest, but the next shudder of cold made you change your mind. Besides, you didn’t want to get his furniture soaking wet. So you nodded and waited while Minho disappeared into the bedroom. You shuffled awkwardly to the kitchen, toes curling in your socks.

Minho reappeared. “Here,” he said, voice gruff. He pressed a pair of sweatpants into your hands, along with a fuzzy looking sweatshirt. Your turtleneck wasn’t too wet, just a little damp along the neckline, but you slid the extra layer over your head gratefully. Before you had to ask him, Minho pointed to a half-open door. “The bathroom. I’m going to get something dry on, too,” he added.

You smiled in relief, escaping to the small bathroom gratefully. As soon as the door was shut, you were scrabbling at the soaking wet denim, peeling it down your legs. You grimaced, not missing this experience at all after the last time. Minho’s sweatpants were soft and oh so warm by comparison. And fleece-lined, too. You slung your jeans over the shower rod to dry, rolled the ankles of your borrowed pants—just enough so you wouldn’t be drowning in excess material—and went in search of that promised hot tea.

You found Minho on the phone in the kitchen. When he noticed you, he waved you closer. “Do you like anything on your pizza?” he asked.

“Um,” you scrambled to collect your thoughts. “Cheese?”

Minho cracked a smile. “Cheese it is then. And peppers, onions, cherry tomatoes, garlic, basil,” he rattled off what sounded like an entire grocery list. When he noticed you staring, Minho raised his brows in confusion. You shook your head with a small laugh, leaving him to it. On the counter behind him, you found two mugs, tea bags already steeping. You wrapped your cold fingers around one, humming in contentment. Finally, the shivers stopped.

“Wanna watch a movie while we wait for pizza?” Minho asked, but then he froze, grimacing. “Oh shit, sorry. I mean, you can go home if you want. I don’t mean to keep you if you don’t want to stay. I have an umbrella, and you can keep the sweats I guess—”

“Sure how about a romance?” you interrupted him, grabbing your tea and making your way to the couch. You plopped down, eyeing Minho, who was still stiff as a board by the counter. You giggled at him, “Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from Mr. Darcy.”

That seemed to knock him out of his stupor. An indignant expression wiped away any trace of sheepishness, and he stomped over to find the remote. “Yeah right,” he scoffed. “I’m not watching a romance.”

“A romantic comedy then,” you decided, snatching the remote out of his hands.

He grabbed it back, lightning quick. “Action.”

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “Drama. Fight me and I’ll demand a Hallmark movie.”

Minho smirked, “Fight me and I’ll make it a horror movie.”

You groaned in disgust, glaring at him. “Ok, fine, let’s fight over it. Rock, paper, scissors?”

He rolled his eyes, but ended up on the couch beside you, holding one fist out to meet yours. “Best out of three,” he smirked. “Get ready for a zombie fest.”

After a crushing defeat, Minho slumped on the couch, moaning dramatically when you selected Pride and Prejudice. You giggled at the grumpy man beside you, and his similarity to Mr. Darcy. Most notably their matching pouts.

To your surprise, Minho didn’t interrupt the movie once. Sure, he grumbled at first, but when you snuck a peek at him after about half an hour, you caught him watching intently.

You’d seen the movie at least a dozen times by now, but you still couldn’t resist the pull, and your heart fluttered at the brush of hands the way it did every time. Your breath caught at every interaction, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away to save your life. Until the pizza arrived, at least. You were about to press play, two slices at the ready, when Minho looked over at you. “Why are you so in love with the idea of love?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a moment, taken aback. “What?”

“Not just the movie, but real life,” he said, twisting to face you fully. “Why are you so determined to find Mr. Right? Or to set me up on the perfect date?”

“Don’t you want to find someone?” you questioned him, backing away from the question. “You can’t possibly be putting up with me just to avoid your mom playing matchmaker. I’m literally no better than that.”

He scoffed, “You haven’t met my mother.”

“Maybe I should team up with her.”

“Oh please no.”

You grinned, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Oh please yes,” you teased. “Two matchmakers are better than one.”

Minho shot you an unimpressed look. “I told her I already have a girlfriend, but I felt bad lying to her, so I’m hanging out with you instead.”

You nearly choked on your pizza. So you were a pity friend, great. Or worse, you weren’t even real friends, you were just a convenient excuse to alleviate Minho’s guilt complex. You set the slice back down, no longer hungry.

“Hey, you know I’m joking, right? That was a joke. I’m sarcastic all the time, remember?” Minho nudged you.

“Yeah, sure.”

Minho sighed, leaning over to bump his shoulder into yours. “I might not love the matchmaking, or this dumb movie, but I guess I’m glad we bumped into each other so I could tell you to dump ghost boy from Tinder.” You snorted, biting back a small smile. Noticing this, Minho forged ahead, “And this better not be part of the act to get me to forget my first question, because you still haven’t answered.”

“Minho,” you whined. “Why does it matter?”

“Pretend it’s girls night. We’re practically having a sleepover, minus the nail polish and braids. This is the part where we talk about boys,” he smirked.

“I hate you.”

“Do we need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You next?”

Your brows rose. “I thought you didn’t like romance, how do you even know that movie?”

“.....No reason. Now answer the question already,” he huffed.

You sighed, curling up on your end of the couch. “I guess it’s just something I’m not good at, so I can’t help wanting it to fall in my lap,” you said. “I can’t pull all nighters to find love, that’s not how it works.”

“Well no, studying isn’t the answer,” Minho agreed.

“My parents have the kind of love I want. I’m not rosy-eyed or anything, I know it’s hard work and commitment. But the friendship—that’s what I love the most.”

The two of you sat in silence for a little while, Minho chewing on your words. And you mused on your recent attempts to find a partner. Perhaps dating apps weren’t the way to go, you admitted. Not to Minho, though. He’d never let you hear the end of it.

“Maybe,” Minho started. “You should look for new friends instead of new boyfriends.”

“What do you think this is?” you laughed. “I’ve been setting you up, not looking on Tinder or whatever for myself.”

“Good, you’ve wasted enough time on those trash apps already,” he groused.

You grinned at him, “So I guess you don’t want me to start looking for Bumble girls, huh?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

You giggled, but Minho pressed play on the movie before you could tease him any more. To your surprise, he looked as interested in the ending as you were. You doubted he was misty-eyed like you, though.

A yawn snuck up on you, and you glanced at the clock in surprise. How had it gotten so late? “I should probably be going,” you started.

“I’ll walk you home. It’s late.” Minho grabbed your dishes to bring to the sink, snatching them right out of your hands. You blinked after him, then shrugged, making your way to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, your jeans were still damp, but they’d be fine for the walk home. You squeezed yourself back into the denim, emerging with the borrowed sweatpants. “Laundry?” you asked, since Minho was busy with the dishes.

“Just inside the bedroom, next to the door,” he gestured with his chin, hands still sudsy.

You slid the sweatshirt off as well, placing both in the hamper by the door. Despite your curiosity, you didn’t linger, but you caught a glimpse of an equally tidy bedroom. And a large bed with dark sheets. Why was your heart pounding? Mr. Darcy hadn’t been that distracting. You shook your head, hurrying out of the room. Only then you came face-to-face with Minho, and you had to fight a blush. What on earth was wrong with you?

The awkwardness continued, and you felt strange and itchy the whole walk home with Minho. You were hyper aware of how close you were under the umbrella, of the way your elbows brushed every few steps. Minho was surprisingly quiet, as well. Ordinarily, he’d be making fun of you by now.

As you walked the last block together, you tilted your head to look at him. “So tonight was a fail,” you said.

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“The practice date?” you giggled at his expression. “Total failure.”

Minho’s frown deepened, “I thought it was fun. Even if you made me watch a period drama.”

“Oh no, it was wonderful, but the date part of it was a bust. We need to do another, since tonight doesn’t count,” you told him, slowing to a stop in front of your building’s entrance.

“Well what does count?” Minho asked, exasperation dripping from his tone.

“Hmm, something in public. No one ever does a private first date, and obviously that’s what you need the most help with,” you sassed. “Maybe I’ll kick your ass in laser tag or something.”

“Maybe I should beat you in bowling,” Minho retorted.

You hummed, tapping a finger off your chin. “You might be onto something, actually. How about you come up with our next practice date. That’s your homework.”

“Since when is this a class? With homework assignments?” Minho demanded.

“Oh shut it, or I’m making profiles for you on every dating app I know.”

* * * * *

You looked over at Minho, suspicion tugging at you. “So when you said you should beat me at bowling, did you mean it?”

“I’m going to try and win at whatever we do, I’m competitive like that,” Minho said, holding the door open for you.

“No, I mean, are you secretly a professional bowler or something?” you corrected, making your way towards the shoe rental.

Minho chuckled, “I doubt you’ll believe whatever I say.”

You opened your mouth to object, but decided he was right. “You better not be hustling me,” you threatened, slapping cash down on the counter.

“Pay per game or pay per hour?” the attendant asked.

Minho cheekily slid a few bills beside yours. “Best out of three?”

“Insufferable,” you muttered, watching as the attendant took his money instead of yours.

At least Minho looked just as goofy as you did. The brightly colored bowling shoes looked very out of place against his “cool guy” outfit. You’d already poked fun at him. Who showed up to a date wearing sweats? Not that he looked bad in them, but you had at least dressed up a bit. Then again, you might not have worn a dress if you had known that bowling was on the agenda. You tugged at the sleeves of your sweater dress, feeling a bit out of place as you looked at all of the other couples. Jeans, slacks, more jeans...why had you decided to dress up? You should’ve known Minho would pick something casual.

“Hey, you wanna go first, or should I?” Minho’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you shook the negativity away gratefully.

“You go ahead,” you called over to him, trying to find a smile. What were you so worked up about? It’s not like this was a real date. You could have shown up in a potato sack if you wanted, you weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all Minho. On that thought, maybe he had the better idea after all. You eyed his sweatpants enviously. You knew how comfy they were, and they’d doubtless be better than the tights you were terrified of ripping.

“Ok sweetheart, prepare for a thrashing,” Minho joked, selecting a bowling ball from the rack.

“You prepare for a thrashing,” you countered, despite knowing it was an empty threat. You probably needed the bumpers if you wanted anything but gutter balls. Then you caught sight of the names on the board. “Did you seriously make my nickname ‘Loser’? What are we, five?”

Minho smirked as he passed you. “We’ve been over this, I’m a grandpa, you’ve got one foot in the grave. Childish antics are beneath us,” he said with a laugh.

“So you’re ‘Lee Know’?” you inquired, curious about his chosen nickname.

Minho turned to face you, tilting his head. “Yeah, that’s what my friends call me.”

“...Am I supposed to call you that?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Call me whatever you want. Just not ‘asshole’,” he joked. Your heart warmed, and a true smile found its way to your lips. You watched as Minho wiggled a little, eyeing the pins at the end of the lane. Then, to your utmost surprise, he turned around and rolled the ball between his legs.

“What?” you choked on a laugh, nearly falling over at the sight. Minho backed up, and you both watched as the ball rolled down the lane, painfully slow. It ended up knocking down half of the pins, much to your surprise. Minho just looked proud as he picked up another ball. Miracle of miracles, he wound up with a spare.

You had no words, didn’t even bother trying to explain how his technique had any sort of success. Your own attempt was...pitiful by comparison. Your form looked good, but both balls wound up in the gutter in a matter of seconds.

Minho didn’t waste the opportunity to gloat. “Told you I’d beat you at bowling,” he said with a wink.

You grumbled, flopping down onto the bench next to him. “I didn’t expect you to be successful at the toddler technique.”

“Give it a go, maybe we’ll change your nickname if you win,” he laughed, getting up for his turn.

Halfway through the game, you even tried the ‘toddler technique’. This was also a fail, made worse with the mortifying realization that your underwear would be visible if you bent over too far. When your attempt ended up in the gutter, you resolved to get bumpers for the next game.

But Minho had other plans. You had just approached the lane when you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Keep your wrist straight, you keep twisting it at the last second,” he said.

You turned to face him, finding him close behind you. “Anything else, wise one?”

“Don’t overthink it,” he smiled at you. This close, you could swear his eyes were twinkling. “We can both go get bumpers next round, I need them almost as much as you. I’m amazed at my own streak of luck tonight.”

“I’m terrible at bowling,” you whined, looking away from him. Your cheeks felt warm. Gosh, it was embarrassing to be this bad.

“We can go do something else, we don’t even need to finish this game, let alone all three. As long as you’re having fun, I’m happy.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but looked away quickly. He was watching you so intently, the flush burned hotter, threatening to run down your neck. “I’m sorry you paid for so many games. We can definitely finish them, it’s fine—”

“I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do,” Minho murmured. You looked at him in surprise, surprised to hear him sounding sincere rather than snarky. “Otherwise, I’d be a shitty friend, wouldn’t I?”

“Right, yeah. An asshole friend,” you agreed, nearly stumbling over the words.

“Ok, I’ll let you focus on your first strike of the night. Don’t overthink it,” he reminded you, walking back to the bench.

You nodded, ignoring the tight feeling in your stomach that reminded you of disappointment. And you sank another one right into the gutter.

Minho’s solution to the bowling fiasco was consolation ice cream. Somewhat surprising, since a part of you had expected him to gloat. Instead, he talked about anything and everything but bowling, entertaining you while you both sat at the window of the local shop. You simply watched him, enraptured. He had hardly opened up at all to you at first. Visiting his apartment felt like the first peek into the real Minho. The happy memories captured in picture frames, the handmade mementos here and there on shelves, all hints as to the soft interior of your once-prickly friend. Now he was regaling you with stories of his best friends—brothers, by the sound of it. Loving rivalry, playful banter, sibling torment. And the look on his face...pride. He was proud of them, his family.

Then you paused, tilted your head to look at him anew. When had Minho stopped being prickly? Where was the cynical, negative, angsty boy you’d befriended, partly out of spite? When had he stopped trying to hold you back with barbed wire edges?

When Minho caught your gaze, he lifted one brow, mouth twitching into a crooked smile. “See something you like?” he sassed you. But his remark was devoid of bitterness. It wasn’t mocking, it was warm, inviting. It was asking you to join in on the joke.

“Yeah,” you said softly. Then you turned up the wattage on your smile, grinning widely at him. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Minho rolled his eyes at your antics, spinning his ice cream cone between his fingers. But hidden behind your grin was more than a little truth.

* * * * *

You knocked on the door, stepping back tentatively. You could hear raucous laughter on the other side, which would ordinarily have you curious, maybe a little excited to join in. Not tonight. Right now, standing in the hallway outside Minho’s apartment, you were nervous as hell. And on top of it all, you were nearly an hour late, having dragged your feet the whole way there.

“Stop it, this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, shifting from foot to foot. It felt like meeting the parents, which was dumb. Firstly, you and Minho were not dating. Secondly, these were his best friends, not his parents. And thirdly, you and Minho were good friends. You had nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing.

Which was why you were currently worrying all over the place about meeting Minho’s best friends. What if they hated you? Or worse, what if they pitied you? You thought you’d disappear into a crack in the earth if that happened.

Before you could spend too long contemplating your inevitable end, the door swung open, and a boy came rushing out at you. You gasped, jumping back before he could run into you.

“Sorry, sorry, excuse me!” he blurted, skidding to a stop, then immediately taking off running down the hallway.

You blinked in confusion, but your eyes only widened when a second boy came barrelling out of the apartment after the first. “Minho?”

Minho paused briefly, eyes alighting on your stiff figure. “Hi! Um, I need to take care of something, but I’ll be right back. Go on in,” he waved at you, breaking into a jog, and then a sprint.

Immensely confused, you peered into the apartment, now that the door was wide open. Now or never, you told yourself firmly. Easing through the doorway, you caught sight of six more boys in various states of chaos. Upon noticing your entrance, they all froze. “Uh, hello there,” came a voice on your right. You looked over to see two boys in the kitchen, appearing to be mid-struggle with a bag of popcorn. “You must be Minho’s friend, he said you’d be coming.”

You gave a tiny wave, pasting on a sunshine smile. “Hi guys, it’s nice to meet you, I think? Should I be concerned about the escapee?”

Popcorn boy number two laughed, arms bulging as he ripped open the bag. “Oh no, Hyunjin will be fine. Minho hasn’t made him eat toilet paper in years, he’s above that now.” You must have looked concerned, because the boy chuckled again, waving you off. “It’s all empty threats with that one. Mostly. I’m Changbin, by the way.”

Popcorn boy number one stepped forward, extending a hand to shake. “I’m Chan, and this is our menagerie of chaos. Let me introduce you to everyone,” he offered. You grinned at him, relieved.

By the time Minho returned, practically dragging Hyunjin with him, you were giggling on the couch with the rest of the boys, embroiled in a fierce MarioKart race. With Hyunjin still trapped in a headlock, Minho paused to watch. You just barely caught a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, too focused on staying on the track. Jeongin had chosen Rainbow Road for your first match, and you were determined to crush them in the dust. Even if it had been several years since you last played.

You watched as your character was knocked off the edge, a cry of dismay falling from your lips. “Dang it, I wasn’t even in first place, what gives?”

Han grinned victoriously, only to cry out when he accidentally drove over the edge as well. “Friends fall together?” he joked.

“You made me go ziplining. Alone,” Minho said, announcing his presence at last.

“Uhhhh,” Han fumbled for an excuse. “You love me anyway, though, right?”

Before Minho could retort, Seungmin stood up. “You can play next, if you want,” he offered.

The rest of you blinked at him in surprise, before looking at his screen and realizing he’d already won the race. Jeongin groaned dramatically, flailing on the couch as he came in second. You and Han just gave up entirely, letting your characters fall off the track once more. Meanwhile, Minho finally decided to release Hyunjin, and the blonde escaped to the other end of the couch, diving into a bowl of chips like nothing had happened.

Felix looked excited, so you tossed him your remote for the next round. “I believe I was promised food,” you said, arching an eyebrow in Minho’s direction.

“I believe I told you to arrive at six,” he fired back, stalking towards you. He finally stopped a foot away, looming over you.

You smirked at him, “What did I tell you on our first date?”

The room went silent, and you froze, realizing your mistake. “You guys are dating and you didn’t tell us?” Han exclaimed, eyes wide.

Your mouth opened and closed, but you couldn’t seem to find any words.

“Oh yeah, real fancy dates, too. We had dinner at the Eiffel tower last week,” Minho drawled. “Isn’t that right, sugar plum?” The cherry on top was when he reached out, lightly pinching your cheek.

A stranger might have mistaken his dry tone for sincerity, but everyone in the room knew Minho’s humor well. Half of the group dissolved into giggles. Changbin rolled his eyes and threw a pillow, but Minho caught it before it could smack into you. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend,” Changbin joked.

“All those promises and no follow through,” Han clucked his tongue in mock-disapproval, then ducked when Minho tossed the pillow at him next.

Your cheeks threatened to catch on fire again. The situation only worsened when you met Minho’s dark gaze, his eyes ensnaring you. “So,” you threw out desperately, clapping your hands together. “The food? Or am I going to starve? Not very boyfriend-like,” you tried to laugh. The joke must have been convincing, because the boys merely chuckled, going back to their game.

Minho still hadn’t moved from where he stood over you. Instead of moving back so you could get up, he extended a hand. You bit your lip, teeth digging in, but you placed your hand in his rather than make a scene. The last thing you wanted was more attention, especially with your cheeks warming up past their usual temperature.

Fortunately, he released you as soon as you regained your footing. Your fingers flexed lightly, hand falling back to your side. You kept your chin high as you followed Minho to the kitchen, ignoring the prickling feeling that the boys were still watching you.

“Pizza?” you blurted out, incredulous. “Don’t you eat anything else?”

Minho snorted, leaning against the counter. “For the record, I do know how to cook.”

You snooped in the fridge, disbelieving. “Of course, all evidence points to you being a five star chef,” you said, casting a pointed look at the empty shelves within.

He chuckled, folding his arms while he watched you investigate. “Sweetheart, if you wanted me to cook for you, all you had to do was ask.”

You hummed, closing the refrigerator once more. “I’m kinda afraid you’ll burn something, to be honest,” you teased, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and selecting a slice of now-cold pizza. You popped the pizza in the microwave, then relaxed against the counter opposite Minho. He was still watching you intently, and you frowned. “What? Do I have something on my face?” you asked him.

Minho shook his head wordlessly. Self-consciousness took hold, and you looked down awkwardly, brushing your hair behind one ear. “Hey, I’m sorry about what I said. I totally didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

“I know,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a half smile.

You tipped your chin again, unable to look at him for long. Even if Minho seemed to forgive your blunder, you still couldn’t believe you’d blurted that out. Your hair fell in front of your face again, and you let it, happy to hide behind the locks.

Then another pair of feet appeared a few inches from yours. Plain black socks next to your patterned ones, covered in cartoon rainbows. Then a butterfly touch along the side of your face, soft enough that you almost doubted the sensation. You lifted your gaze, but this time, Minho’s eyes weren’t on yours. Instead, his laser focus was directed on the hair he was gently situating behind your ear again.

You realized you had forgotten to breathe when he finally took a step back, and your lungs remembered to inflate.

“For the record, you’re right,” Minho said softly. “The queen is never late.”

* * * * *

It was nearing midnight by the time Minho’s friends started leaving. You eyed the clock, then went to grab your shoes as well. “I better get going, I want to get home sometime before dawn,” you joked.

“How close do you live? Are you taking the bus?” Chan asked, worry evident in his tone.

You waved him off, “I’m just a few blocks away, not too long of a walk. Bus doesn’t run after ten or so, anyway.”

Chan frowned, but Minho cut him off before he could say anything. “I was going to walk her home, it’s pretty late.”

That was a surprise to you, but seemed to alleviate Chan’s concern. The others waved goodbye on their way out, Chan following them. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shooting you a quick grin before closing the door behind him.

“You really don’t have to,” you started.

“I want to. It’s late,” Minho reminded you.

“I didn’t argue last time, but I didn’t want to steal your umbrella.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not some little girl in need of protection. It’s a perfectly safe neighborhood.”

Minho didn’t look up, busy tying his shoes. “I like walking.”

“At midnight?”

“Any time of day, really.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you walk Jeongin home, too?”

“Sure did. He moved in with Han, though, so I don’t anymore,” he said simply. “You don’t have a roommate. If no one’s there to make sure you get home safe, I want to walk with you.”

You gaped at him, unable to fault his logic. And not really wanting to. “Thanks,” you murmured, scuffing one shoe into the floor.

Minho stood up again, a crooked smile on his lips. “Don’t mention it,” he said, snagging his keys. “After you.”

Walking home with Minho, you were reminded of the first time. Then, you’d been so awkward, quiet. Unsure of yourself. You’d been worried that you were some kind of pity friend at first, but after getting to know Minho, you knew that wasn’t the case. And now that you’d grown comfortable around each other, you could hardly get him to shut up. Even now, he was talking about his dance team’s newest choreo, his words running together from excitement.

You smiled, just listening. This was all you really wanted, if you let yourself admit it. The Tinder dates were just a shit attempt at finding someone to sit and listen to for hours. You wanted movie nights and quiet mornings with someone who cared about you. You wanted a cute little house and kids and a dog. Maybe a cat. Maybe three.

Shit.

You were so wrapped up in your realization that you didn’t realize you’d reached your apartment building until Minho snagged your elbow to pull you to a stop. “This isn’t a midnight hike, where do you think you’re going?” he asked incredulously.

You laughed nervously, “Oh, sorry, I was pretty lost in thought.”

“Apparently. Were you listening to a word I said? Some friend you are,” he snorted.

Friend. Right. Your realization didn’t mean much. Why were you surprised? You hadn’t had luck in the romantic department in years, why would that change now? Minho was your friend, and it was obvious that his opinion of you wasn’t going to change. Why would it? He was way out of your league.

Gosh, now you felt like a fool. You’d really just daydreamed about a happily ever after with him. Why did you ever bother getting your hopes up? You were always bound for disappointment. Hadn’t your crappy dates taught you anything?

Minho called your name, bringing you back down to reality. “Sorry,” you muttered, fumbling in your bag to find your keys.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Shoot, now he sounded concerned.

You pasted a sunny smile on your face, “Totally fine. Thank you for walking me back. I won’t keep you any longer.”

You turned away to walk up the steps, but the smile fell as soon as he was out of sight. How were you only just coming to the realization that you were halfway—or perhaps all the way—in love with him? His face was burned into your mind’s eye. Brows furrowed in confusion, slight pout, and those damned eyes. You’d probably been in love with his eyes from the beginning.

“I only agreed to let you play matchmaker so I could see you again.”

You stopped at the top of the steps, not quite believing your ears. Turning slightly, you looked at Minho over your shoulder.

Once he had your attention, he continued, “I bailed on the date with your friend because I knew you’d yell at me.”

Lips parting in surprise, you turned to face him fully. Minho put a foot on the first step, gaze locked on yours. You weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you, but his mouth softened into a slight smile.

“I was going to do the classic move of teaching you to bowl, but I chickened out,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t.”

“What are you...why are you telling me this?” you asked, fingers curling nervously.

He ascended another step, “You only smile like that when you’re sad. When you start getting in your own head about what you deserve.” Another step, “And I’m tired of hiding.”

Now he was only two steps away. Close enough to touch, if you dared to reach out. You didn’t. “We’re friends,” you said, voice small.

“Yeah, we are,” he agreed. Then he bit his lip, drawing your attention like bees to honey. You sucked in a breath, closing your eyes firmly. When you opened them, Minho was on the step just below you. “Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low. You didn’t.

Your breath stuttered to a stop, your whole body stilling at the electric shock of his lips on yours. For a moment, you were frozen, utterly focused on the whisper of a touch. Then Minho pulled away, and you could breathe again, gasping for air. But you didn’t want it to be over. Your eyes fluttered open, finding his dark gaze melting into you.

This time, you let yourself fall into him, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that said this was a fantasy. He caught you, one arm wrapping around your waist, his other hand coming to your jawline. He ascended that final step, pulling your body into his. His lips were plush, a little dry. Real. Minho was here, warm under your fingertips.

His hand slid up into your hair, slowly enough to make you shiver. You sighed into the kiss, goosebumps appearing on your arms as his fingers gently tugged the strands. And then his mouth opened beneath you, and you let yourself tumble into sensation, drowning in him.

You don’t know how long you kissed, but your heart was racing when you finally came up for air. Minho panted, little breaths puffing against your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, the weight somehow grounding you.

“Do you understand now?” Minho’s voice was hoarse, deeper than before. You shivered, just a bit, and the corner of his lips twitched up.

You couldn’t find words, unable to string any coherent thoughts together. And you didn’t really want to, happy to have your mind all to yourself, no doubts in sight. You leaned forward, placing a small kiss on the tip of Minho’s nose. He scrunched his face up, making you giggle. But you needed to know one thing. “Are we—are things different now?”

“We’re dating. Unless you don’t want that,” he backtracked, eyes wide.

You grinned at him. “I do.”

He heaved out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I thought I really fucked up there.”

Now you really laughed, head falling forward to rest on his chest. Minho’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer than you thought was possible. You could hear his heartbeat, thudding just as fast as yours.

“You said the friendship was your favorite part of love,” Minho mused. You hummed in agreement, nodding against him. “Well I hope you don’t get sick of me. I hear I’m pretty annoying.”

“Minho,” you rolled your eyes.

“I know you just rolled your eyes at me,” he teased.

“Well, you are annoying. But I suppose it’s a part of your charm.”

He chuckled, “So that means you like my jokes?”

You smiled fondly, “Don’t push it.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

#skz fanfic #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee know fanfic #lee know x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #lee know #skz minho #skz lee know #skz imagines #skz scenarios #lee know scenarios #skz minho x reader #minho x reader #lee know fic #skz fic #skz one shot

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