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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

WIBTA if I start giving some very *very* Christian family members religious pamphlets from non-Christian religions as gifts?

To be clear, I am writing this while firmly believing I'm NTA but I am angry and don't trust my own judgment too much right now.

Background and Players: My Son (19) was adopted out as a baby by his incubator behind (my husband, 40) his father's back. He was abandoned at 4 by his adopted family because of behavioral issues related to what his incubator was putting into her body while she was pregnant with him, and went into foster care with people I will call Amom and Adad. Adad is a pastor in his 90s and Amom is a pastor's wife in her 80s. When Son was 13 and I had been with Husband for 5ish years, we had been told (by someone from his incubator's family but we didn't know that at the time) he was non-verbal and "mentally an infant" and that trying to pull him out of the routine he had would just be incredibly harmful to him, so we had given up hope of finding him and having a relationship with him. We got a phone call one day, a worker who was looking for a medical history for Son. Husband spent close to 3 hours on the phone with her, answering questions and asking anything he could squeeze in. Turns out, we had been lied to about his mental health just... completely. He's impossible to shut up and he graduated high school last year despite, you know, *gestures vaguely at everything* and I am incredibly proud of him. Half an hour after that call ended, she called back and told us Son might be interested in meeting us, was it okay for her to pass on our contact info. A month later, Son, Amom, Adad, Husband and I were sitting in a restaurant together and a month after that we went to their place for a week to spend Christmas with them. This is when they informed us that they had finalized his legal adoption a couple of weeks earlier. 2 years after that, my QPP moved in with us, and another year later 16 year old Son asked if he could move in with us. He still does.

The Issue: Son wants a continuing relationship with Amom and Adad, but due to the previously mentioned substances used by his incubator, he has memory and time management issues so I have to regularly remind him to contact them. I have no problem doing this, but the contact we have had with them over the last few years has soured me on their company. I've got no problem reminding Son to contact them and organizing rides for him to visit (usually QPP and I driving him, the trip is a couple of hours each way) but I'd rather never speak to them myself if it can be avoided. It didn't start out this way, but over the years they have made it very clear that they don't respect anyone else's beliefs. Not just us, like there was one night where they were going off about some Danish surgeon saying publicly that he was Muslim first, Danish second, and they were trying to convince us to be terrified by that. The conversation ended awkwardly when Husband asked if Adad was Nationality or Christian first (because that's different you see). We have found books on the bookshelves in the guest room about how any kind of queerness at all is demonic possession, one of which they wrote. They talk about things like being sent on a mission by their god to save as many (and I hate that these are quotes) "brown heathen children" by making them Christians as possible (Son and his adopted siblings are all First Nations, Amom and Adad are as white as I am), or how Jewish people are evil for stopping Christians from claiming their suffering because "Jesus was a Jew so aren't all Christians also Jews?". Amom once spent a week trying to convince me to go to church with her and share the details of my childhood sexual abuse with the entire congregation because "it will show God you are ready to be forgiven". QPP is a shintoist and after they found that out, we started seeing more literature about the Japanese, specifically during WWII, around their house when we visited.

We have politely made it clear that we are not interested in Christianity, especially not their version. Multiple times. We thought it was finally over after Son had a meltdown at them at his graduation ceremony because he wanted JUST ONE conversation with them that wasn't about Jesus. He was in tears trying to explain that to them, and their response was to tell him he needed to come back to church so they could lay on hands and chase all the demons making him say these horrible disrespectful things to them out of him. He was supposed to stay with them for a few days to visit after that, but by the time I tracked him down and got him calm, he didn't want to go anymore. They seemed to stop after that, like they actually backed off and I think I got maybe 2 emails that didn't mention God or Jesus, not even a "God bless" in the sign off. We were optimistic. Son was late organizing it but we dropped him off (at his request, he's worried that Adad won't make it to next Christmas and wanted to see him) at their place on Boxing Day. We did not hang around, we did not send gifts, we didn't even reply to the Family Christmas Email (it had a video of a Jordan B Peterson rant embedded in it and I've told them before that we are not interested in anything that sack of hateful arrogance has to say please stop putting him in my inbox). We have done everything we can to make it clear that we do not want a relationship with them for ourselves, including outright directly telling them politely to their faces that we will not stop Son from seeing them but we don't feel comfortable around them and don't want a relationship with them for ourselves. Son came back with "gifts" from them - a study guide for a specific Bible book (I got John, Husband got Michael, QPP set his on fire before we saw who it was) and a bag of candy that looked like it came out of a thrift store (I got the same one they always get me, which I laughed off the first and second and third time and explained I couldn't stand them because my abuser used to give me one when he was done. Husband is diabetic and got York Patties. QPP actually got something decent though, $20 for gas).

I have managed to keep my "I'd rather you hadn't bothered actually" rantingvto Tumblr, which i don't think they even know exists, but I'm still pissed about the Bible crap as "gifts". I am considering changing tactics completely and being super friendly, mirroring their energy, and giving them the same treatment they've given us. I want to make excuses to visit so I can explain the finer points of shintoism and Celtic paganism in every single conversation. I want to give them books for gifts, books like The Tao of Pooh and The Gospel of The Flying Spaghetti Monster. I want to wrap cash in pamphlets about The Invisible Pink Unicorn and leave it on their fridge.

QPP and husband think I should give myself more time to calm down and just keep ignoring it and playing nice when I'm forced to play at all but like, IT'S BEEN 6 YEARS.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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gilbirda · 11 months

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Another fandom PSA - Bookmarks

Hello everyone, I am back with yet another informative post, since I've observed some behavior that could get out of control real fast.

Again, the point is never about shaming those who have done this, but to inform and warn about how disheartening these things can be; and what can you do to avoid hurting anyone in the future.

Let's talk about bookmarks.

Looks easy enough to add a bookmark, just type some notes — maybe to remind future you what the fic was about, maybe some random thoughts of the fic, maybe the chapter where you left of — add some tags if you are that organized and slap the bookmark to a Collection if you have that.

But I want to bring attention to this little guy:

If you are going to leave a hurtful message, at least have the decency to not leave it where the author will see it.

Authors can and will see the bookmarks! I can only speak for myself but I do check the bookmarks because sometimes people get creative and have funny Notes, or their tags are hilarious.

But, sometimes, we wonder if y'all know authors can see the bookmarks, unless you set it as a Private Bookmark.

What do I mean with hurtful bookmarks? Well:

*gestures vaguely towards these*

Granted, not all are rancid takes, but some truly give weird vibes? As in, it feels like people doesn't know authors can see their Notes and bookmarks?

You can have an opinion about the story, that's completely valid, but the option of setting it to Private Bookmark is right there.

So, as a rule of thumb, if you wouldn't like someone telling your words to your face then have the courtesy of not doing the same for someone else.

Mark it as Private if you'd rather not let the author see your Notes.

For more information about Bookmarks, AO3 provides a FAQ page.

#ao3 etiquette #fandom etiquette #internet etiquette #ao3 bookmarks #fandom psa #im begging you the Private Bookmark box is RIGHT THERE #some bookmarks are very confusing but nice??#awful bookmarks are not the norm but lets not make it the norm #thank you

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capseycartwright · 1 year

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If the prompt sparks joy: buddie and where does it hurt?

thank you amy my dear! some vague finale spec because i couldn't help myself

“Where does it hurt?” Buck’s mouth was twisted into a hard line, his brow furrowed as he crouched in front of Eddie. They were waiting for another ambulance – other people were more seriously injured than Eddie, and so he had to wait his turn: that was how it worked at major incidents. Eddie was fine with it, really – Bobby was in an ambulance on his way to LA General, Chimney not far behind, and so he’d patiently wait his turn.

“You know where,” Eddie chided gently. “I told you – I broke a few ribs.”

Buck glared up at him. “When did you get your medical degree?” he snarked.

“When did you?” Eddie couldn’t help but bite back. It had been a long – and terrifying – day and so he couldn’t help it – he was tired, and as much as he appreciated Buck’s fussing, he was in pain, and Buck’s gentle prodding wasn’t helping.

He took one look at Buck’s forlorn face, and immediately felt bad. “Give me a once over,” he offered, and though Buck hesitated, the relief he clearly felt at having been given permission was clear. “See for yourself,” Eddie nudged, and Buck didn’t need more encouragement than that.

Eddie’s turnout coat had long since been discarded, the heavy material weighing down on his already tender body, so Buck didn’t have too many layers to bypass to get to Eddie’s ribs. Gently – so gently, Eddie noted, Buck’s hands feather-light as they skimmed the hem of his t-shirt, gently moving it upwards to give a better view of Eddie’s ribs.

“Definitely broken,” Buck sighed, and Eddie swallowed his ‘I told you so’ – it wasn’t the time. “Where is that ambulance? You could – you could be bleeding internally, you need to get to a hospital.”

“Buck,” Eddie tried, Buck’s attention firmly fixed on Eddie’s ribs. “Buck,” he repeated, his voice gentle, pleading, almost. “Can you look at me please?”

Buck didn’t move.

“Please?” Eddie repeated, and Buck finally moved, lifting his head to look at Eddie, his eyes shining bright with unshed tears. “I’m okay,” he reassured, reaching out with his good arm, his left holding tight to his side in the hopes of holding his broken ribs together. With shaking fingers, Eddie pushed Buck’s matted hair back off his forehead, stomach churning as he realised Buck’s hair was matted with more than just sweat: blood and dust lingering as a reminder of the altogether too close a call they’d just experienced.

“You almost weren’t,” Buck’s lip wobbled, the other man biting the corner of his mouth in an attempt to stop himself from crying. Eddie had never seen Buck like this – not at a scene, at least. Buck was an emotional person, but he was usually stoic until they got in the doors of the hospital, but not today. Today, despite the fact they were surrounded by police, and rescue teams, and far too many people craning to see what disaster was unfolding – staring, as though Eddie’s family hadn’t just faced death all over again and barely survived it.

“But I am,” Eddie rubbed his thumb against Buck’s cheekbone, wishing he had the strength to just pull him closer. He needed Buck close. He’d been far too close to being pancaked in that van, the weight of a fridge crushing against his back. Eddie had wondered if this was it, for a second – that despite how many insane things he’d survived in his thirty-something years on the planet, he’d go getting crushed by a fridge in a bridge collapse – and then Buck was there, sweat pouring down his face as he’d moved the fridge, determined as he and Hen had dragged Eddie free of the van, right before it had been crushed into nothingness.

“I can’t keep almost losing you,” Buck admitted, his voice quiet – as though he didn’t want anyone else to overhear. Eddie understood that – he didn’t want anyone else to overhear either. Ideally, he supposed, this would happen in a private moment – in Eddie’s apartment, maybe, or in a secluded corner of the station – but it was happening now.

That was okay too.

Eddie didn’t mind.

“I can’t promise you that it won’t happen again,” Eddie admitted – because he wasn’t going to lie to Buck, was he? They were past that – past lying to each other, no secrets left between them anymore, not when Buck’s admission hung heavy in the air. “But I’ll always fight to come home to you.”

Buck let out a shuddering breath, resting his forehead against Eddie’s, the gesture a promise of what was to come later – later, after an ambulance ride, and a hospital visit, and a quiet car journey home. “You can’t leave me,” Buck said, eyes squeezed shut. “I wouldn’t survive losing you.”

“You have me,” Eddie promised – because it was the truth of it, really. Buck had always had him – even before Eddie had realised it, even before he had been ready to admit it, Buck had him.

Buck looked at him, eyes shining with words neither of them had said yet. They would come, though. Eddie knew that. “I’m going to find you an ambulance,” he said, pressing a brief kiss to Eddie’s cheek, the gesture feeling juvenile, almost, in light of the seismic shift that had just happened in their relationship.

Or maybe it wasn’t seismic after all, Eddie realised – it was inevitable, actually, their friendship trundling toward love long before either of them had realised the path they had set themselves on.

Eddie watched, as Buck wandered toward the incident commander, his face set back to serious, ‘I’m working’ Buck, determined as he went about finding an ambulance for Eddie.

No.

It wasn’t seismic at all.

It was the sort of inevitability that Eddie hadn’t realised he craved – and maybe he didn’t crave it, and he just craved Buck, and the steady love he so willingly gave Eddie every day.

send me a concern for others prompt

#911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #prompt fill #mellaithwen

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thebellearchives · 1 year

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𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

~ Vash the Stampede ; Trigun Stampede

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : when Wolfwood asks about your favourite colour he seems confused about what exactly you are describing

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : vash x artist!reader, gn!reader, fluff

‧₊˚ a / n : i’m kind of tired of the “reader is an artist” cliché but i saw this tiktok and then found myself writing away at 4 am help https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMY4YkrdB/

The heat of the sun almost disappeared to you the moment the pastel chalks started producing a calming sound against your sketchbook’s paper. You didn’t know how much free time you were getting today. Or tomorrow, or any other day really. So a simple quick depiction of the landscape was the way to go.

The car had gotten too small for the five of you at a certain point of the journey, so the decision to get out of the vehicle and stretch your sore cramped limbs had probably been one of Wolfwood’s scarce good ideas. As the chalk scratched the paper, you lost track of everyone and didn’t really know where they had wandered off. It was only you and your sketchbook. A rich ocre for the base colour of the dunes, some light touches of beige for the highlights, and caramel and cinnamon for the shadows and definition. Your hand fluttered here and there, carefully placing the pigments over the parchment textured paper and creating solid images out of vague designs. Then, using your fingertips you smudged the chalk from rough to soft. You smiled in satisfaction. The dunes looked very nice, now time for the sky. Your hand reached for the sky blue chalk, but soon found out your were close to running out of that colour. A frown appeared on your face.

With a tired snarl, Wolfwood made a sudden appearance right by your side. He was so nonchalant that the noisy way he sat down snapped your thoughts away from the chalk in your hand.

“What’s up birdie? You’re running out of blue?”

“Unfortunately” an annoyed sigh left your lips, but you went ahead and tried not to use much of it. Surely you could finish the drawing and save up the rest until you could get your hands on more chalk?

“None of the other colours look like they’ll be used up any time soon. You use it too much, honestly” he yawned disinterestedly.

“ I can’t help it” your voice almost came up as a complaint.

“Is it your favourite?”

“Obviously”

“Not obvious at all.”

“Why would anyone not like blue?” you frowned again, this time in disbelief that anyone could ever not like blue, your hand stopping mid stroke.

Wolfwood was suddenly interested, he leaned a bit closer to you with a teasing smirk.

“I don’t know, why do you like it?”

Your eyes focused in front of you, where the sky was still bright. Vash, Meryl and Roberto were now gathered together directly in front of you both, lively talking about something you could not hear. You stared at Vash for a while, trying to gather your words and thoughts correctly. You thought about the way you couldn’t get your sight off his eyes sometimes, and how you had to remind yourself you were staring. Yes, the colour reminded you of the sky… but it also reminded you of those eyes…

“It feels… endless, infinite. Like it could drown you in it or you could get lost in it for hours and you’d love it, you’d never get enough of it. It’s just so full of brightness, it has so much to offer. It’s placid… and kind.”

Vash seemed to have lost interest in the conversation Meryl and Roberto were having, his beautiful eyes wandered off until they were placed on you. He offered you a sweet smile and a wave. You smiled and waved back.

“Wait, are you still talking about the colour or are you talking about someone else now?” his grin grew wider.

Startled, you cleared your throat and went back to your drawing.

“Don’t be ridiculous, i’m talking about the colour, obviously.”

“Yet again, not obvious at all.” he laughed as you hurried to finish the drawing. Maybe if you finished quickly you could escape his teasings.

#; fluffy belle #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #trigun #vash x y/n #trigun vash #vash x you #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash imagine #vash imagines #trigun stampede imagine #gn!reader

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beiiibeii · 19 days

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Kafka Angst, delicious, thankyou for the food. Okay this was from 11:49-12:21 jeez im tired.

Anyways, here’s thing for you!

“…I remember one morning it was just like any other, you brought coffee and I brought sweets. I remember, you spilled a little of my coffee on the table and made a surprised sound, but despite that, you looked up at me and you laughed. Your eyes were shining in the morning light— In hindsight really.. They’d always done that. A little bit brighter, with the golden sun. That’s the moment I realized I was really truly hopelessly in love with you. I told myself it was a longer mission than usual. That’s all, and yet I couldn’t stop liking you past our little meetings in the morning. I couldn’t help but want to ask more and more about yourself, the silly, little details unrelated to Elio’s script.”

At least, that’s what Kafka would like to say to you. Instead she watched through your window as you cried. Illuminated only by moonlight. It looked as though a meteor shower might be streaking across your face— quick and bright slashes. A sky full of grief, guilt, longing. Kafka couldn’t help but vaguely wondering if you must mirror her own feelings so well. Kafka was a formidable woman, that wasn’t a secret to anyone. What she wanted, she would eventually obtain. However everything else she had taken now seemed so.. Little in comparison to you. So worthless. The one thing Kafka wanted, craved— No. The one thing she needed, she couldn’t have. You. A little bit of water splashes her face. Unsurprising, there’s thunderclouds rolling overhead. Rain was bound to come sooner or later. The water rolls down her cheek, to the corner of her mouth. It takes a moment to register in her brain it’s salty, and the rain has not yet begun to fall.

She looks down at her hands, those hands that have felled many. Her tongue, which has been used to manipulate peoples minds into showing them horrors to last a lifetime, that tongue that has spit thousands of lies. Her eyes, which have watched on as an opponent met a slow, agonizing end. The eyes that showed a frenzied glee at the suffering. How could she ever be worthy of you? The shining bright light in the universe who could never be dimmed. One so pure and precious. She felt her chest tighten in shame. She could never wash the blood from her hands, it stained her entire being. Deep in her mind, a maze to all (even herself) she knew that if given the chance to cleanse her sins, she probably would not take it.

So the Stellaron Hunter turns, quickly scaling her way down to the bustling streets before you might see that familiar shape crouching across the way. Your eyes make their way to the window as you see quick movement, but as fast as it appeared it disappears just as well. And a drop of water hits the glass. And another. Until your window is pelted with the sky’s tears, and the sidewalks are a black mass of umbrellas.

I hope this was this much 🤏 entertaining to you

WHAJHSGD ANONIE?? THIS IS SO AMAZING WAAA IDEK IF I CAN ADD TO IT BC ITS ALREADY PERFECTT!! IM GETTING FED SO WELLL SHJSSJ SOBBING KAFKA ANGST HITTING TOO HARD RN AJSJSJS SHES SO BABYYY I WANNA HUG HERR 😕💗

kafka wears gloves to try to hide the blood that has stained her hands to try to make herself feel better :(

kafka probably has you as a live wallpaper on her phone. she would press down on her phone and the short video of you on that flower field would play. your smiling brightly as the rays of the sunset glowed so beautifully on you. lighting up your smile even more. she looks at it with a bittersweet memories as she reminds herself as to why she joined the stellaron hunters - to understand herself to be a better person and see that beautiful smile on your face everyday. :(

she listens to voice messages or watches videos she has saved of you whenever shes stressed. hearing your voice and the way you smile at her clears her head. calming her down. she can't help but grow a little tired of hearing the same videos and voice recordings. shes determined to get some new ones soon. <3

whenever you post on your snapchat stories, instagram, tiktok, any social media platform, kafka is always on an anonymous account. she constantly comments sweet things under your posts.

"hope you had fun <3"

"so beautiful, like always dear 💗"

"such a pretty smile you have :)"

kafka doesnt even try to change the way she writes to make you not catch on. she likes your posts and is usually the first one to see them too. You can't help but sense the familiarity of the way the commenter writes their comments. its ever so awfully familiar as to how kafka types. you want to believe it but you know its not her :(

kafka secretly hopes you recognise that its her. she knows it won't happen, but she will still keep believing that you will <3

#bei randoms #bei replys #hsr kafka #kafka x reader #kafka honkai star rail

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ur-boyfiend · 8 months

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the way you say hello

was thinking abt diff love languages n subtle ways ppl show they care and got myself stuck in dumb clingy headspace so here's this !

skz 's love languages !!

-> skz x gn!reader , i think 2nd person ?

-> fluff !! so much fluff

-> wrote this on my phone at 2am so the formatting is a wee bit ass , sorry abt that

chan !! making sure he's never too busy to spend time with you , or at least send a text message with some kind of cheesy compliment. will text you random things throughout the day with a caption like 'this reminded me of you'. if the two of you are being offered something he lets you pick first.

minho !! when the two of you hang out together you usually each do your own thing , but some part of you is always touching , wether using him as a backrest or just him draping his legs over yours. usually has a darker sense of humor but always makes sure you're comfortable with his jokes.

changbin !! always quick to help you out if you need it (sometimes even if you don't) , orders extra food for you even if you say you're not hungry. occasionally gets hoodies he thinks you'd like in order to let you steal them. always lets you have the last of the foods you like.

hyunjin !! draws you a lot , uses you as reference for pose / feature studies. you're the only one he lets have open access to his sketchbooks (you always ask before looking anyway) , always gets you a coffee when he stops for one , usually a pastry too.

jisung !! random kisses ; forehead , nose , cheek , back of your hand , shoulder , whatever is nearest. likes playing with your hair. will sometimes get you matching accessories , is always wearing at least one. you both help soothe eachother's anxiety , you know his anxious tics and he knows yours.

felix !! knows your favorite desserts and makes them more often than anything else , always has sweets in case you have a bad day. can read your moods well and makes sure to check in if you seem like you're not doing well. the two of you have amassed an impressive plushy collection.

seungmin !! likes to sing to you, will learn songs he knows you like / that you know the words to so you can sing together. has a sharp tongue but knows your boundaries and does his best not to cross them. he's more comfortable being physically affectionate with you than anyone else, and everyone knows that.

jeongin !! likes making aesthetic + fashion pin boards with you , lets you raid his wardrobe for events. likes swapping clothes / styles with you. lots of café and thrift / vintage store dates. you're both able to understand each other even if you're only really making vague noises and hand gestures.

#boyfiend writes #skz #stray kids #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids x y/n #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 months

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✮ tags ; fem reader, historical fiction (time period typical commentary about gender), bantering / romantic tension, smoking cigarettes, indirect kiss, enemies to lovers if you squint, a vague age gap hejkfdjks

✮ a/n ; i cant believe myself but i needed to get it out of my fucking brain.

"Aren't very good at being stealthy, are you Mr. Marston?"

His eyes linger on your frame longer than he'd like them too. You're still in your night clothes, and dawn has yet to break. Up earlier than he's used to seeing you. Up brushing his horse, of all things. Old Boy's nothing but tender under your care.

The faint mist of morning touches his skin, turns him cold. You oughta be even colder like that, but it doesn't show on your face.

He scoffs a little, hands tucked into his pockets. "Wasn't trying to be. Nobody's up this early so I though we had some unwanted company."

"I guess I still count for that, huh?"

“Oh, shut up would you?”

You giggle back to him in reply. It’s rare to hear. Normally when you're laughing, it's a lot coarser. Always so rowdy. He doesn't mind how you sound now. He sits on a log nearby, watching you as you pat the horse gently. Brushing it's mane and whispering words quiet enough that he can't hear over them over the crackle of the freshly lit campfire.

He can't see your face in the dark either, not well. But you're smiling.

"He likes you more than he likes me," He mumbles.

"A woman's touch or somethin' like that," You reply back. John laughs sardonically.

"A woman? Hardly. Got plenty of other options if that's what he needs."

You shoot him an unimpressed look, brows furrowed. Most women would be pissed at him for saying so. John wouldn't say it to anyone but you, he figures. You hardly look mad though, if a little displeased.

You rifle through the horses saddle (with all of John's things, not even bothering to ask him permission) until you find some sugar cubes. The horse makes a pleasant noise as you coo at him, opening your hand up to feed him.

"But he's eating out of my hand all docile anyway," You give John a furtive glance, smile pulling at the corners of your lips "Reminds of somebody,"

Yeah. Right. He bets it does.

For how much you and John argue and for how much you get on each others nerves, he can admit to himself that he spends more time looking at you then looking away. He can't understand it himself. Makes him feel guilty. He ain't much of a good man. He ain't much of anything. A decent marksman, a fine swindler. Not much else.

The flame paints your face orange-yellow in the light. Not enough for you. Not in anyway. But he can't keep his eyes from memorizing you . Always noticing the way you look back at him. All tender. You can be a lot of things when you want to be, but he doesn't often catch it.

It's hard to ignore when he does. "Don't you have things to do, Mr. Marston? Your turn to stand watch today, isn't it?"

He wants a little longer with you. He frowns at you. "Mr. Marston? You call everyone their name but me."

"Does it bother you?"

Course it does. That's what he wants to say. He looks around for his satchel and pulls a cigarette out from it along with a lighter. The flame sparks, looking away from you. "Just wondering why that is."

"Well, lets see," You stop tending to Old Boy after a few more lonesome pats, instead walking towards him close to the fire. You pour yourself a cup of coffee as you sit on the log adjacent. "Arthur's troubled when I say Mr. Morgan, says it makes him feel old. Mr. Smith is too formal for Charles, and Summers is... Summers. Same with Dutch, and Hosea and Bill. Mm, I guess that leaves Javier - but he's hardly a mister."

"And I am?"

You grin into your cup of coffee, not looking at him. "Course you are, Mr. Marston. What else would you have me call you?"

"My name would do you just fine."

"I like Mr. Marston. It's nice and formal, and well," You do peer up at him at him this time. "Young ladies are supposed to be prim and proper and formal, aren't they? At least from what I know. Shouldn't go around calling a man with a son by just his name now should I?"

Damn it. You're clever. "It's no wonder men lose their betting money to you."

"What are you saying now? Just trying to be mindful. Would you prefer I call you your name, Mr. Marston?"

You're doing it on purpose now. He sighs.

"Call me whatever you want," He says, giving up on it after a while as he takes another drag of his cigarette. You finish your coffee, bemused before empty out the grounds.

After, he watches as you saunter over to him. You bend forward, too close - bare skin inches away from prying eyes.

He's thankful everyone's asleep and not around to witness this.

You bend to him eye level, plucking the cigarette half-smoked from between his fingers and placing it between your lips. Your lips are smooth, shiny and plump and soft.

You hold it between your pointer and middle and take a deep inhale of smoke. The scent of tobacco floods his lungs again as you blow the remaining smoke out into his face, making him cough.

He stares at you wide-eyed and awe struck as your grin widens. A flush creeps up his face as he realizes where your mouths been, watching the end of butt of the cig get dark and stick between your lips.

"Thanks for the cigarette, John," You say, waving him off as you turn back towards your tent. "I'll see you at supper,"

John watches you smoke as you get yourself ready for the day, at the far end of the camp - adjusting something in his jeans. Damn you do something to him.

#rdr2 x reader #john marston x reader #red dead redemption x reader #how on gods green earth do i tag for a man named john #writing tag #i want that guy quite terribly

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sarahwroteathing · 7 months

Text

Friendship is Mandatory (4)

[Bucky Barnes x Reader]

Word Count: 2409

Summary: Bucky digs deep in his therapy session before heading home for laundry day with you and a new friend.

Warnings: Therapy session, cursing

A/N: Your fav dysfunctional roommates are back, and they're trying their pretty hardest! Also my glasses broke, so I was doing this blind. Be kind, please!

“You’re smiling more today,” Joe said quietly into a comfortable silence.

There was a candle burning on the table today, wafting a warm vanilla scent through the small office. It reminded him of you. Three days ago, you’d dragged him to a candle store with a tight grip on his sleeve, insisting that you discover his candle preferences right that very second and it’s serious, Bucky, it could make or break our friendship.

“Am I?” Bucky asked, dragging his eyes up from the slowly dancing flame. Joe nodded, gave an encouraging smile of his own.

“You’ve been smiling since we started talking about your new homelife.”

“Oh…”

He honestly hadn’t noticed, too caught up in the memories, probably talking too fast following his phone call with you in the hallway. You’d talked for fifteen minutes without breathing, hopped up on sugar from two back-to-back cake tastings.

“How is that landing for you?” Joe asked, drawing him gently back out of his thoughts again.

“Makes sense, I guess,” Bucky answered with a shrug. He didn’t really have any bad memories with you, something he couldn’t say of anyone else in his life. You were separate. You were safe.

“Say more.”

“Um…” Bucky tilted his head, eyes straying to the window as he tried to find the words he wanted. “It just feels… better. Better than before, when I was living on my own. I mean, I was fine. But I wasn’t… happy. Didn’t really expect to be.”

“You didn’t expect to be happy,” Joe repeated curiously.

Bucky shrugged again, shifting a little in his chair.

“No. I was just waiting for something to happen, I guess. Waiting for…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hands.

“Waiting for something to happen to you,” Joe guessed. “Something bad.”

“Can you blame me?” Bucky asked quietly, looking down at his hands.

“No.”

They sat in that moment together for a little while, silent but for the sound of traffic echoing up from the street beyond the windows. When Bucky looked up again, Joe did the same, meeting his eyes with a tiny smile.

“Backwards or forwards?” he asked.

He did this sometimes. When the conversation they were having could stray in either direction. He gave Bucky the choice.

Bucky took a deep breath, clasping his hands together in his lap. He should probably do both today. For this. Backwards first, to explain.

“I used to take care of people,” he said quietly. “That was my whole… life. I took care of my ma, and I took care of my sisters. I took care of the neighbors. Took care of Steve. For a while.”

If Joe was surprised by Bucky’s decision, he didn’t show it, just nodded in encouragement.

“That was what mattered the most to me. I was good at it, proud of it. It made me happy to make them happy.”

Bucky opened and closed his mouth a few times, mind rushing ahead into things he didn’t want to say but still probably needed to.

“But…” Joe prompted gently.

“But… then I got drafted. And things weren’t the same anymore. I mean, I still… I still was responsible for people. I still tried to take care of people. But.”

“Taking care of people meant something else.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said rubbing a thumb over the palm of his hand. “And it was… It was terrible to fail. Unthinkable. But succeeding didn’t feel… It felt bad too.”

Joe nodded thoughtfully, left space in the silence for Bucky to feel what he needed to before moving on.

“And then for a while there wasn’t really a me to take care of anyone. And then I was barely able to take care of myself, couldn’t afford to think of much else. Just. Confused. And scared.”

“Overwhelmed,” Joe read off his face, and Bucky nodded with a frown.

“Then surrounded by people who knew more about me than I did. Or thought they did. And I was stuck being someone that wasn’t quite what anyone wanted me to be, all good or all bad. Just a… cheap imitation. That didn’t work quite right.”

Joe tilted his head, just a little, all concerned eyebrows and compassionate eyes, and Bucky rushed on before he could reflect anything. He’d already pushed himself deeper than he had planned on going today. He didn’t want to linger in this one.

“But now,” Bucky said firmly, and Joe leaned back in his chair again, made a small gesture with his hand: message received, we’re moving on. “It’s different. It’s better.”

“Better. Unpack that for me.”

“I feel like more of a person…” Bucky said carefully. “Less like a ghost.”

“With your roommate?” Joe clarified.

“Yeah… She doesn’t expect me to be anything besides…” Bucky gestured vaguely at himself. “Whatever’s going on in here.”

“And she helps you take care of yourself. The candles and sweaters. Bedding.”

“She does,” he agreed, letting himself flash another smile, thinking about how you’d crawled all the way into his duvet cover trying to shove the fluffy new duvet into the corners, came out with your hair a mess of static. “And she lets me take care of her too. We take care of each other. It’s… It’s really nice to have that again.”

“I see the joy that brings you,” Joe said softly. “I can feel it too.”

Bucky nodded, smile coming back slower and softer this time.

“Yeah.”

—---------------------------------------

When Bucky got home, you were waiting for him, bouncing on your toes as soon as you saw him and rolling up the sleeves of your oversized sweater.

“Laundry day!” you sang. “You ready?”

Bucky smiled, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it by the door next to yours.

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

“I will give you as many seconds as you could possibly want. I’m not going into the murder basement without you.”

“It’s not that bad,” Bucky said with a snort, earning an unconvinced noise from you as he eased past you and your overfilled basket to retrieve his own.

“How was therapy?” you called out.

Bucky made a face as he swiped a pile of folded clothes from his nightstand into his laundry basket.

“Uh, it was fine!”

He changed quickly, not bothering to close the door when he knew you hadn’t budged from your spot by the couch. When his old clothes joined the laundry pile and he was comfortably dressed in a new hoodie and sweatpants, he joined you in the living room, laundry basket balanced on his shoulder in a way that always made you smile.

“Overcooked spaghetti fine or burnt toast fine?” you asked when he came back into view.

That was the way you always described yourself post-counseling. Either soft and mushy, in need of blankets and kindness, more prone to weepiness and affection. Or with a lingering bitterness of negative emotion, brittle, in need of nothing but space.

Bucky took a deep breath as he followed you out into the hallway and locked the door behind you.

“Overcooked spaghetti,” he answered, thinking about exactly how much of his session had been spent talking about you.

“Well, good thing we’re doing laundry then. You can put on a sweater right out of the dryer. Instant cozy.”

He hummed his agreement, and you bumped his shoulder companionably as you made your way through the stairwell down to the basement.

You grimaced a little as you hip-checked the door open. The dim lighting, electric buzz, and unfinished walls and floors always freaked you out a little, and it made Bucky unreasonably happy that you considered this the creepiest place you’d ever been.

“I hate this place so much,” you muttered, eyeing the bottom foot of the laundry room walls, where the drywall gave way to studs and chicken wire.

“I know. But look what I did today,” Bucky said, flipping the second lightswitch on the wall which had been abandoned by all the tenant for months. The other half of the fluorescent light panels flickered to life and you gasped, dropping your basket onto the nearest machine.

“You fixed the lights!”

“Told you I wouldn’t let you get murdered down here,” he said, claiming the machine beside yours.

“Yeah, but I thought you were just going to mount a defense with a dirty sock or something,” you said, grabbing his hand and holding the back of it against your cheek. That’s what you did instead of hugging him, he was pretty sure. You’d never talked about it but seemed to assume it was off limits, a violation of some unspoken boundary. You didn’t ask, and he didn’t know how to offer. So you did this instead.

“Well, I can do that too,” he said, squeezing your hand gently before you let go.

“A man of many talents,” you praised.

Bucky scoffed but said nothing, and as he sorted his laundry you tapped away at your phone until you found the playlist you wanted, half his music and half yours, created on a lazy Saturday.

Just as Bucky was pulling the drawer out to add detergent, you gasped again.

“Did you buy fabric softener?”

“I did. I was very annoying about it too. Smelled every single bottle before choosing one.”

“Love that for you,” you laughed. “What did you go with?”

Bucky removed the cap and held the bottle out, and you leaned in to smell the contents.

“I’m getting….” you squinted your eyes slightly. “Trees.”

“Trees?” he laughed. “You think they’d just slap ‘trees’ on the side and call it a day?”

“I’d buy it. I respect an honest label.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, setting the fabric softener on top of the machine and spinning it to face you.

“Ooooh, Alpine Vista. Well, excuse me, your Majesty.”

“You’re not excused. I have excellent taste.”

“You do,” you said, with a great beaming smile that made Bucky flush against his will. “I’m so proud!”

“It’s just laundry. Settle down,” he laughed, but he felt a little proud of himself anyway.

For the next three hours, you trekked up and down the stairs together with your laundry baskets, not wanting to loiter any longer than necessary in the godawful basement. Just like your two previous laundry days, you kept up a steady stream of animated chatter, though with notably more good-natured arguing than before. Bucky felt himself start to settle after the emotional rawness of therapy, and by the time the two of you hauled your baskets up the stairs for the last time, it was no longer weighing on his mind.

He ran to the bathroom during your last bit of pre-folding stretches and was washing his hands when he heard you shriek.

He was out of the bathroom so fast it was a miracle he didn’t break the doorknob.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

You were standing on a kitchen chair, hands clasped in front of your mouth.

“Your laundry basket moved!”

Bucky’s eyes sought out the basket in question, sitting where he left it on the rug.

“What do you mean it - ”

He didn’t get to finish his question before it became unnecessary. The pile of sweaters and jeans inside shifted ever-so-slightly.

“It fucking moved!” you said with an accusatory point, dragging him back towards you by his hood.

“Okay… Uh…” He reached back, blindly patting your leg in a way he hoped was comforting as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do about this.

You were way ahead of him, leaning from your perch to snatch the kitchen broom and press it into his hands.

“Okay…” he said again, approaching the basket with slow steps. You hopped off the chair and shuffled along behind him, never releasing your grip on his hood.

He poked gently at the pile of clothes with the broom handle. Nothing.

“Do it again,” you whispered.

Bucky shook his head, hooking the broom into the neckline of the top sweater and dragging it off of the pile. You both took half a step closer.

There was a white furry tail and one tiny paw visible for a brief second before they disappeared under the clothes again. Bucky dropped to his knees this time, reaching in to move handfuls of clothes to the couch beside him until he uncovered a small white cat curled up in his laundry basket, blinking up at him grumpily and letting out a small plaintive noise at having her cozy little home dismantled.

“You have a stowaway,” you said with quiet awe, kneeling down beside him. “Hello, friend.”

You held out your hand, and the cat gave it a dainty sniff, a tiny lick. After a nudge, Bucky did the same. His offer was met much more favorably, as the cat sat up to nuzzle her head into his hand.

“She’s so cute,” you said, mouth hanging open as you watched the cat affectionately bully Bucky for more pats and scratches.

“I’m going to try to pick her up,” Bucky said, unsure of the reception as he reached his vibranium hand into the basket too. The cat seemed utterly unbothered as he scooped her up and set her tentatively on his lap, nosing at his legs and stomach for a moment before resolutely burrowing her way into his hoodie pocket.

He stared down in shock at the lump in his sweatshirt as you laughed delightedly.

“You’re the chosen one.”

He set his hand gently on the outside of his pocket, feeling the cat begin to pur moments later.

“Can we even keep her?” he asked, glancing up at you uncertainly. He wanted to, he realized belatedly, as the cat’s fuzzy white head poked out of his pocket again.

“I think we’d better. She’ll track you down if we don’t,” you said with a smile.

“You sure?”

You switched abruptly from petting the cat to petting him, ruffling his hair until he laughed and batted your hand away.

“It makes you happy, right?” you asked, smiling like you knew the answer already, like it was the only thing worth considering.

“Yeah,” Bucky admitted.

“Then yes, I’m sure. What are you going to name her?”

He hummed thoughtfully, looking around the room until his eyes caught on the new bottle of fabric softener.

“How about Alpine,” he suggested with a smile.

The cat meowed quietly as if in answer, and you laughed, reaching out to pet her tiny head.

“Nice to meet you, Alpine.”

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

AAAAAAAH we have an Alpine! I already love her.

Give me a shout, and tell me what you think! Anons more than welcome! I can’t do what I do without you

Tags: @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd-blog @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @a-book-pressed-rose @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr @marvels-mistress @bornfortherainydays @mybuck @my-drowning-in-time @intrepidacious @im-a-light-child @orangespocks @multifandomgirl-us @creideamhgradochas @buckybarneshairpullingkink @rebekahdawkins @xxbuckysbxx

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 5 months

Text

It's been a while. Sorry.

Hi, all.

I've had a couple people in my inbox asking where I am, if I'm okay, what's going on. And I just wanted to say I'm alright! At first, I wasn't online because I had a work project to do, which was taking up all my time.

At first.

Honestly, being offline has been great for me. Every single time I've thought about going back, I've gone into my Tumblr to find a new hate anon in my inbox (mostly centred around wanting me to KMS, etc.) or someone else in the fandom venting about cliques, bullies, hate anons or the like, and I've immediately been turned off. I'm so, so exhausted by all this.

I think it's fairly obvious to state that I don't like some people on here. That's fine, isn't it? Sometimes people just don't like each other, and everyone is entitled to their reasons for that. I've not brought those users up, not said a single word about any of them for ages, and I'd really like to keep it that way. Part of that has involved my choosing to disengage from users who frequently interact with them, and that's not because I hate those users or want to punish them for their friendships - I'd just prefer not to be reminded of anyone I've felt uncomfy with while on here, and I feel like that's a fair boundary to set? I would never ask anyone to stop being friends with people because that's a different bag of crazy than I am, but I also feel it's unfair to have to force myself to be okay with the names of users who I've had negative experiences with pop up on my dashboard all the time. It doesn't make for a healthy environment.

I guess the reason I bring that up is because I can't really fathom who else is sending me all this hate; I have to assume it's people who are upset that I've chosen to unfollow or stop engaging with, because I've blocked all the rest.

I'm honestly struggling to figure out why I'm so hated. I've only ever stood up for myself and for my friends. That's what friends do, isn't it? Stick up for each other? And sure, I've been unkind a couple times. It's human to not always be capable of rising above the shit that gets flung your way. But I don't know why that makes it okay to tell me that I'm so fat that I'm going to die, that people hope I die soon, that I must be ugly IRL which is why I'm clearly such a bitch, that I'm going to die alone with no one who cares about me, that I should be SA'ed, that I deserve to get beaten up and left for dead. I don't know why people want to say these things to me. I've never ever felt that strongly about someone, let alone angry enough to actually send them that kind of message. The worst message I've sent on here was actually to ewanmitchellcrumbs - spoiler, it's related to crackfics. All of those messages were cursed, lol. Who the fuck sends death threats on Tumblr anon?

That's on top of the constant vague-posting others do. I've been so offline that I barely check Tumblr, and it's not because I don't want to come back. I do. I just wish I wasn't slapped in the face by some new uprising of hate and toxicity every time I've tried. I'm paranoid. I don't know who to trust on here. I don't know who's being nice to my face and calling me shit behind my back. I don't know if people want me as a friend or think I have some sort of 'clout' they can piggyback off. To be clear, I don't. I doubt people care about any of my opinions, or my thoughts/feelings outside my writing. That's fine. I don't want to be a part of whatever cliquey shit people are always claiming there is. I don't know if people are talking about me when they're saying these things, because there's been one or two people I've fallen out with to go ahead and accuse me of it. I'm a person? Not a community? This isn't Mean Girls. I'm not Regina George. I'm not even Karen. The Plastics aren't real. I like what I like and who I like and it's just insane to me that there are people who think that's problematic. If they do, of course. Again, I'm really paranoid right now so dunno if people mean me by this or not. Point is, I don't know why people think others owe them engagement.

I can't keep doing the same thing over and over and wishing things would turn out differently. I think a certain scientist with frizzy hair said that's the definition of insanity. I'm tired of thinking I've found friends only to have them decide that I'm inherently unlikeable or worthless to them because I won't invest my all in promoting them like I'm a brand deal. I'm tired of people viewing this community like it's some sort of race to the top. I'm tired of the gaslighting. I'm tired of the insincerity. I'm tired of the rumours and the anons and the vent posts. I'm tired of people making sweeping statements about shit but never specifying anything, leaving everyone to wonder who the fuck is 'in' or 'out'.

I've been transparent on here. You can literally read accounts I wrote of ALL the quote-unquote "drama" I've been involved in. Who else can say the same? I'm not interested in hiding behind my words, or pointing my finger at the room but never at any ONE person, no, because who wants anyone to tell the truth ever? What you see is what you get with me. If I like you, I talk to you. If I don't, you've been blocked. Everyone else is neutral, either because of limited crossover or because we simply haven't had the chance to interact yet. There.

Anyway. I'm in a pretty negative headspace, but most of this has nothing to do with the people who read my stuff. Sorry if you followed for fic and got this. Yikes, right?

Dunno. This might be my last post for a while. This might be my last post ever. Or, this might be my return. I haven't decided yet. Hm. I'm feeling really bitter and alone and just ugh about fandom. Not writing, though. I want to write. Which is why I've decided that, if I do end up returning, I'm going to stick to my own bubble. Write fic. Post fic. Reblog gifs. Get out. Limit interaction outside my inbox where I can. Stick to fic. I've been burned too many damn times to do anything else.

So, yeah. That's what's on my mind, I think. Sorry if you were hoping for something a little less bleh.

Whatever I decide - for those of you that are following me, thank you. I've been so incredibly enriched by my experience here. I love HotD. I love my work. I'm proud. And I love you all.

#bit of a vent post honestly #soz #em writes stuff sometimes personal

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williamvapespeare · 8 months

Text

torturing myself with Astarion/durge heartbreak 2k23 (some comfort immediately after that scene)

“Anyway it’s a brand new day, I’m sure we’ll find lots of people for you to kill.”

He means it as a joke, he really does, the sort of thinly veiled thing he pulls out when a conversation gets too close to the endless darkness of a tomb or the trusting eyes of yet another victim, pain dragged down each of his limbs, screams caught in his throat, or, well - he figures he’s owed a bad joke or two for all of that.

And Tav humors him with a small huff of something that might have been laughter, only it catches on a sharp sounding inhale and all of a sudden he’s clapping a hand over his mouth and curling into himself and Astarion has done quite enough sitting back and watching that night already.

When he pushes himself closer, Tav turns away, his eyes squeezed shut, shoulders heaving. Astarion reaches out, slowly, with all same the caution he uses as he feels his way through the mechanisms of a trap, fits his fingers under a spring, eases it open. He’s good at this, Astarion knows, and now he gets his hand around Tav’s wrist, pries it gently away from his mouth. Tav’s skin is still raw, dried blood flaked around the wound. Astarion does his best to be gentle as he pulls Tav’s hand towards him, holding his fingers loosely in both of his own hands.

It reminds him of a night weeks ago, when Tav accepted Astarion’s terrified words with the most grace he’s ever known, warm arms around his waist, a soft smile on Tav’s face, gentle fingers curled around his own. I care about you.

“I’m sorry,” Tav says now, voice choked and raw. Like he’s been screaming all night. “You shouldn’t. I tried to, I fucking tried…”

“I’m here,” Astarion cuts him off. Tav’s hand tries to clench in his own, twisting into a fist where Astarion can see the bloody imprints of nails already etched into his palm. He tightens his grip. “Someone already beat you to the whole killing me thing, love, and look how that turned out. I’m still here, whole and beautiful.”

Tav’s shoulders hitch again, but he blinks his eyes open, and while Astarion doesn’t like what he sees there - dark circles like bruises above his cheekbones, fear still radiating from him like a pheromone - he sees Tav there in his eyes, nothing more, nothing less.

“That’s it,” he soothes, calming and utterly nonsensical. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Tav says again, but his voice is steadier this time.

Astarion reaches out, touches Tav’s cheek in what he hopes is a delicate caress, like he too is something gentle to be taken care of, even when his body and his brain are fighting it with everything they have.

The fire is long since dead, and Astarion lets his gaze wander up from the blackened logs to the dull grey sky, it looks this way just before sunrise, he’s learned. Sometimes, the subtle hints of pink blink into view on the edge of the horizon without warning, and he’s struck with awe at the sight of it, the light, the freedom, every useless cliche it’s come to represent.

He isn’t sure how long they sit there, but by the time he hears the first rustling of their companions around them - it’s Gale who always appears first, he knows, the man wakes ridiculously early for a human - the sun is high enough in the sky that it’s beginning to peek through the early morning clouds.

“I should probably, uh,” Tav motions vaguely to his hand where it still rests loosely in Astarion’s, “deal with this before anyone else freaks out.”

As much as Astarion agrees, he can’t quite bring himself to let Tav go yet.

“Of course,” he says, instead of any of the disgustingly possessive thoughts on the tip of his tongue. “Get yourself cleaned up, darling.”

He helps Tav to his feet, watches as Tav rubs his face on his sleeve, skims his own fingers over his bloody wrists, taking stock of the damage. Astarion recognizes the motions.

“Will you,” Tav starts to say something that tapers off into a tired sort of silence, but Astarion is already nodding.

“I’ll be right here,” he says. “Whenever you need me.”

#astarion #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav #bg3 durge #durge spoilers #astarion x durge #astarion fic #h/c

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din-jarhead · 2 years

Text

Sweet

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (bye bye minors)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings/Tags: smut, porn with a little plot, subby!Steven, soft dom!reader, loss of virginity (Steven), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv (don’t do that in real life pls), dry humping, praise kink, use of pet names (good boy, etc.), cockwarming if you squint, aftercare

A/N: Look, I… I don’t know what to say for myself. Steven does things to me and I just wanna see him beg, okay? No Moon Knight spoilers, this takes place vaguely before the events of the series, and is also not really canon compliant anyway lol.

Steven Grant is sweet. No word can better describe the man. He’s shy, kind, a bit of a disaster. You just want to wrap him up in a blanket and give him some tea.

But you also want to make him squirm.

Maybe it’s depraved, but you can’t help it. Every time you see him awkwardly wringing his hands together and trying his best to hold a conversation you imagine how he would look and sound under you, desperate and needy. You figure he’s a virgin, the way he can barely look a girl in the eye, let alone ask one on a date. But that doesn’t matter to you, you want him.

Your fantasies aren’t entirely cruel, though. Yes, you want him whining and begging, but you really just want to take care of him. You know that getting him worked up would make his release feel so much better in the end, and he deserves that. You want him to be your good boy, but you don’t know how to make it happen.

The aforementioned inability to form a coherent sentence in the presence of really anyone, let alone a beautiful woman, makes things difficult. You know he isn’t completely socially inept, he’d obviously managed to get a job and seemed to have a friend or two, but he has obviously been under a lot of stress recently. Hence your desire to help him relieve it.

You had been building up to it, slowly. You’d started by just being a friend. You made sure to be patient with him whenever he stumbled over a word, giving him an encouraging smile when you passed him at work.

You moved up to having the occasional lunch together, allowing him to control the conversation, or lack thereof. You didn’t mind sitting in silence with him, if that’s what made him comfortable.

After a few weeks, you’re having lunch most days, enjoying casual conversation. You can still see the stress on his face and in his eyes, but it doesn’t seem to be stemming from having to interact with you.

You decide it might be time to take the leap.

“Steven?” He was zoned out, you’d hit a pause in the conversation and his mind had wandered elsewhere. You get his attention, reminding him that someone else was there.

His eyes refocus, landing on your face. He doesn’t quite make eye contact still, but he makes an effort.

“Sorry, was just thinking.”

“That’s okay, I just have a question for you” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual.

His brow furrows, confusion evident on his gorgeous face. You’d been shocked when you first met him that everyone wasn’t falling all over themselves to get a date with this man, he was so pretty. Even though he dressed in clothes that were too big for him and never remotely matched, you could tell he had a great body and his face was like a Greek god. Then you’d had a conversation with him and understood why most people wouldn’t want to put in the effort of getting him out of his shell.

You take his silence as a cue to continue.

“I was just wondering if you might want to get dinner or a drink or something after work.”

“Oh, yes that would be nice, do you mean— is this… I mean—“

You smile at his hesitance, clearly trying to figure out if this was a date or not but not sure how to ask.

“Yes like a date, Steven” you explain, seeing his expression change from worried to relieved.

“Okay, good, yeah. Dinner sounds good. I don’t really drink so… yeah dinner.”

“Great, I’ll meet you at the gift shop when your shift ends?” You pick up your bag and stand, making your way back to work.

“Okay” he practically whispers, looking dazed and clearly processing what has just happened.

“Okay, see you later, Steven” you reply cheerfully, also excited for the evening.

The rest of the work day feels unbearably long, but you get through it and it’s finally 7, the end of your shift and time to meet Steven. You make your way to the gift shop, waiting quietly as Steven finishes with his last customer. He was thankfully not late or otherwise a frustration for Donna today and did not have to do inventory.

When the customer leaves, Steven looks over and sees you, his face lighting up. You give him a small wave, and he grabs his bag and walks to you. He has both hands holding tightly to the strap of his bag, clearly nervous but not unhappy.

“Hiya” he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

Since you were done working, you’ve unbuttoned your shirt a bit, and you see Steven’s eyes fall briefly to your more exposed chest, which is exactly what you’d hoped for.

“Ready to go?” Steven nods. “There’s a great place near my flat that has a lot of vegan options, it’s really good but also a casual atmosphere, you wanna go there?”

“Sounds lovely.” Steven’s face flushes a bit, seemingly catching on to the implications of you mentioning the proximity to your place.

You make your way to the restaurant, chatting about your days as you walk. You fortunately get a table tucked away in the corner, not too close to anyone else so you can talk without feeling surrounded by strangers. You and Steven have a wonderful conversation, he’s very excited to talk with you about Egyptian mythology, and you love the way his face lights up when you ask him questions. When the check comes Steven insists on paying, adding to your increasing anticipation of getting him back to your flat.

When you walk out of the restaurant, Steven seems unsure if the evening is about to be over or not. You hold his hand, fingers lacing with his, and he looks at you hopefully.

“Would you like to come back to my place?” You ask, not bothering to think of a reason for inviting him there since you both know what you really meant.

His breath hitches.

“Yeah. Please.” He nods quickly.

The walk to your place is quick, as intended, and soon you’re sitting on your couch next to Steven, letting your thigh brush against his.

His nerves had clearly gone up exponentially, and you can tell he wants to say something.

“Everything okay?” You ask gently, wanting to make sure he really wanted this and he didn’t feel pressured.

“Yeah, I want to do this, trust me” he emphasizes, eyes scaling your body, “I’ve just, um… I haven’t ever, you know…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“I don’t care about that, Steven. Just follow my lead and let me know if anything makes you uncomfortable okay? I’ll take care of you. Will you be a good boy for me? Let me make you feel good?” You move one hand to his knee.

He whimpers a little at your words, nodding slowly.

“I need you to use your words, love.”

“Yes, yes I’ll be good” Steven manages, swallowing thickly as we waits for your next move.

“Good. Just say stop if there’s anything you don’t like, okay? We’ll start slow. Can I kiss you?” You had moved your hand further up his thigh, rubbing soft circles with your thumb.

Steven nods, then remembers to use his words, good boy, and takes a steadying breath.

“Yes.”

You move your unoccupied hand to his face, pulling him toward you. Steven’s eyes flutter closed as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

The kiss is a little awkward and stiff right at first, but Steven quickly gets the hang of things and lets himself relax into it. After a moment you coax his mouth open with your tongue and he follows your lead, licking into your mouth with hunger.

His hands had at some point moved to your hips, pulling you closer to him. It isn’t quite close enough, yet, so you shift, planting one knee on either side of his hips and straddling his lap. That earns you another small whimper, which sounds even better than you had imagined.

With some effort, Steven breaks the kiss, sliding his hands upward slightly to the hem of your shirt. “Can I—?” He looks up at you hopefully, small creases forming on his brow as he searches for an answer.

You can’t stop yourself from moving a hand to his face again, gently smoothing those little creases with your thumb.

“Yes, baby, of course” Steven sighs, crashing his lips to yours again as he allows his hands to slip up and under your top. His hands find your breasts, touching with hesitance at first but then becoming more greedy. When his thumbs brush over your nipples, your hips grind into his slightly, causing him to buck up against you.

He’s already painfully hard, and you can feel the impressive size of him through his trousers.

You move your lips down his neck and your hands to his chest as Steven decides you no longer need your top, and unbuttons it the rest of the way. You shrug it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground behind you.

You can feel how fit his body is through his shirt, confirming your suspicions.

You suck a mark into his neck, causing him to groan and buck his hips again, getting more desperate.

He moves his hands back down to your hips, trying to pull you against him more, but you resist.

“Patience, sweet boy. No need to rush”

He whines— finally, beautifully. Just hearing the sound you’d been dreaming of for so long sends a wave of arousal through you, breaking through your facade of dominance and allowing your own desperation to seep through.

You stop kissing him abruptly, causing that soft crease to form again on his face, and stand.

“I think it’s time to move to the bedroom, yes?” You ask, grabbing his hand and encouraging him to stand as well.

“Yeah” he rasps, then clears his throat, “yes I agree.”

You make the short journey to your bedroom, watching as Steven’s eyes scan your belongings to assess your more hidden personality.

You remove the rest of your clothing quickly, refocusing Steven’s attention solely on you, and help him to do the same.

His length is as impressive as you had felt earlier, throbbing and neglected.

You lay on the bed, legs spread to invite him to you.

He crawls onto the bed, but stops short of where you had expected him, hands resting on your legs and eyes locked on your center.

“Fuck— you’re so wet, love. Can I taste you? Please? I don’t know if I’m any good but I’ll do whatever you tell me. I just want to so badly.” He rambles, asking so earnestly for something you’d never refuse him.

“Of course, sweet boy. Don’t think too hard about doing it right, just do what feels good and I’ll tell you if you should do something different” you instruct, carding your hand through his hair to encourage him toward where you need him.

He places a kiss on your stomach first, something no one else has ever done before. You’re not exactly sure why he does, but it feels like he’s claiming you, acknowledging the parts of your body that don’t explicitly serve a purpose for his pleasure.

He then moves downward, licking a broad stripe through your folds. Encouraged by the sound you make when he does that, he continues exploring you with his tongue, finding your clit quickly and circling it.

“You’re— fuck— you’re doing so well, Steven. Stay right there, if you just, just suck—“ you cut yourself off with a moan as he follows your instructions, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bud and applying just the right amount of pressure.

You’re basically babbling now, a string of good boys and other praises flowing from you as he gets more confident in his ministrations. Your words clearly have an effect on him, you can hear his little grunts of pleasure as you talk.

You see his hand move down the front of his body, wrapping around his weeping cock to relieve some pressure, but you can’t have that.

“Steven, no touching without permission. Don’t want you getting yourself too worked up, do we?” You try to use your most stern tone, but it doesn’t come out quite as firm as you’d hoped in your state of arousal.

He lifts his head briefly, eyes wide.

“M’sorry, it’s just— shit, you feel so good I couldn’t help it”

“It’s okay, love, just don’t do it again or I might have to restrain those pretty arms” you tease as he returns his mouth to your cunt, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The groan Steven makes lets you know that he definitely liked the sound of your little threat. Next time.

You’re so close now, for his first time Steven’s enthusiasm has definitely gotten him far, you just need a little more. You encourage him to use his fingers, telling him how to curl them the right way to hit that one spot inside you.

Once he does that, you’re barreling toward your release, clamping down on him hard.

“That’s it, good boy. Don’t— oh— please don’t stop I’m gonna fucking cum, yes yes yes—“ you hit your peak and lose the ability to form a coherent sentence, practically screaming Steven’s name and holding onto his hair for dear life.

He continues to lick you slowly as you come down, stopping only when you tell him it’s too much.

You drag him back up to your face, kissing him desperately and tasting yourself on him.

“Was that good?” He asks as you pull away, seemingly genuinely unsure as if you hadn’t just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

“Yes, oh my god baby yes that was amazing, I knew you’d be good at that” his face lights up at your praise, and he unconsciously bucks his hips again, and you can feel how hard and desperate his cock is for some attention.

You push his shoulders to encourage him to flip, his back hitting the bed and you straddling his hips again.

You start to grind your dripping cunt over his length, causing Steven to gasp and drop his head back onto the pillows.

“What do you want, sweet boy? You wanna fuck me?” You ask, tone almost mocking.

“Yes, yes please I need to feel you” he rasps, fingers digging into your hips as he tries to move you onto his cock.

You decide to push him just a little more, make him complete putty in your hands.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure you really mean it. If you want to fuck me, beg for it. Be a good boy and let me hear how desperate you are for me” you lean down to say the last sentence right in his ear, nibbling the lobe then pulling back to see the wrecked look on his face.

"Please-- I need you. I need to be inside you, please I'll do anything you ask. Just let me fuck you darling" He begs for you, whimpering and practically gasping for air, pleading for you to give him some relief.

This is what you wanted, all the thoughts in his pretty little head completely replaced with need, totally consumed by you.

“What a good boy, asking so nicely for me. Of course you can fuck me baby, wanna make you feel good” you soothe, bringing your lips to his again as you lift your hips and gently take his cock in your hand to notch it at your entrance.

As you sink down on him, you both moan, and you can feel him throbbing as he fills you all the way.

Even after he got you ready he’s still a stretch, and you wonder if he really knows how well-endowed he is.

“You’re so big, love, you fill me up so well.” Steven seems to have lost all ability to form words, as the only response you get is a stifled moan and his hands gripping you a little tighter.

You start to move, lifting your hips up and down slowly, knowing that if you went too fast things could be over pretty quickly given how worked up you’d gotten him.

You feel Steven’s hands trying to pull you down onto him quicker, and he finally whimpers a small “please,” asking you to go faster.

You decide to let him set the pace.

“That’s it sweet boy, take what you need” you encourage, and he starts rocking into you quickly, at just the right angle to hit the spot inside you that works you up quickly to another release.

You’re glad to be close again because you can feel Steven’s rhythm faltering, clearly not able to hold out much longer.

You consider making him slow down, seeing how far you could push him, but you decide that’s probably too much right now, and you just want him to feel good.

“You getting close, love? I can feel you. Don’t stop, I’m close too, want you to cum with me” you say softly, mouthing along his neck and nipping at his jaw between words.

Without having to be asked, Steven moves a hand to the front of you, circling your clit with his thumb, which is just what you need to fall over the edge again.

You place your forehead against his, as your cunt clamps down around his cock, and you feel him throb and release inside you, as he chants your name like a prayer, over and over.

You both tremble as you recover, Steven’s hands maintaining their bruising hold on your hips.

You brush his hair back, damp with sweat and sticking to his face.

He looks up at you with awe.

You move to lift off of him, not wanting to overstimulate him, but he doesn’t release you.

“Stay, please. Just for a bit longer?”

“Of course sweet boy, whatever you need” you whisper as he hugs you close to him.

He eventually lets you go so you can clean him and yourself up, and you take your time with aftercare, whispering more praise and making sure to keep touching him throughout, as he seems to need skin-to-skin contact the most.

You end up back in bed, your back to him as he holds you close.

“Are you okay, Steven? Was that what you had hoped for?” You ask, feeling sleep creeping in but wanting to check in one more time.

“No, it was better. Definitely better. Thank you.” He softly kisses the back of your head, allowing himself to fall asleep, feeling completely relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Tags: @mswarriorbabe80

#steven grant/reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #steven grant/reader smut #moon knight #steven grant x f!reader

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gokubrain · 7 months

Note

are you aware of the hit vegeta image song ‘love is like a ballad’ from the fusion reborn soundtrack where it’s essentially a kakavege love song 😭😭

https://www.animelyrics.com/anime/dbz/ainobaraado.htm

and i’m 99.9% sure it’s about goku too because it uses the word ‘yatsu’ which is only used by men to refer to other men in a derogatory way… it drives me so insane

OH YOU ALREADY KNOWWWW IM WELL AWARE OF THIS LMFAO thank u for giving me the chance to talk about it HAHA

under here cuz its kind of a lot:

lets break down the lyrics shall we ..

right off the fucking bat. starting off STRONG. for vegeta to even have the thought “on this small earth life must be protected to the end” is such a good line but pairing it with “but whenever i look at you i feel like a fool” CRAAZYYYYY. insane. protecting the earth is a huge part of all the earthlings’ characters, and without goku, vegeta wouldnt have those feelings. to talk about protecting earth in one line and then immediately talk about goku next is wildddd. “i want to protect the earth, you taught me the importance of that, and yet when i look at you im reminded that it’s because of YOU that i hold these feelings about this planet.” like okAAAY alright okay!!

“why do i treat you so harshly? why do i hurt you that way? yet still fight against great evils” GRAAAHHHH this is insane right LMAO

vegeta displaying confusion as to why he treats goku the way he does when they share the same goal.. when they fight the same battles.. this self aware-ness is literally what early-stage kakavege IS dude. vegeta feeling conflicted about his actions vs his emotions is the first step to realizing he’s in love with goku.. haha. lol

“for the sake of love […] i would even throw away my rank” VEGETAAA. WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUTTTTT LMFAO….

vegeta suggesting he would disown his own ranking, his pride, something very near and dear to him.. this is also early kakavege core LMAO i mean come on. thats just an insane fucking thing for him to say. unreal.

IT JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER….!!!

“IN TRUTH, THIS POWER IS NOTHING. ALL I KNOW IS YOU.” VEGETA……..!!!!!!!!

ALL I KNOW IS YOU? ALL I KNOW IS YOU???

“although i pretend to be a steel wall […] all i know is you” is just. i mean. EXPLICITLY kakavege. this is kakavege poetry. this is vegeta’s struggle perfectly put into lyric form. i cant believe this fucking song exists lmfao

NOW. NOW..

“the smile you give me is always warm” is wild when thinking about how the entire fusion reborn movie consists of 45 minutes of goku smiling lovingly at vegeta LMAO DONT EVEN THINK VEGETA DIDNT NOTICE. !!

“here i am, offering myself completely if we can be together”

AINT THAT JUST THE ICING ON THE CAKE FOLKS. DONT THAT JUST BEAT ALL LMFAO. ANYONE ELSE FEEL SUPER NORMAL RN?

offering myself completely. giving my all to you. devoting myself to you. THIS IS ONE OF THE FUCKING BUILDING BLOCKS OF KAKAVEGE DUDE. THIS IS ONE OF THE RUNNING THEMES, A KAKAVEGE LEITMOTIF. THIS IS SO VEGETA. I WANNA DIE LMFAO

“if we can be together” …. i mean. what even is there to say about that. how much more explicit can he be here. this is the most straightforward thing vegeta will ever say in terms of kakavege lmao this is it folks. this is IT !!!

its just unreal right. that a song like this even exists.. i mean its so obviously about goku, talking about training together and vegeta being mean to him and protecting earth together and throwing away his rank….. if you think even for one second that this is about bulma you are BLIND. like lets all be serious a moment lmao

and i love that this is related to fusion reborn of all things. that movie is the fucking kakavege bible dude i SWEAR. this whole song makes so much sense if you see fusion reborn as a love story, it all fits so perfectly with how vegeta would theoretically be feeling during the (vaguely referenced) place in the timeline that this movie takes place. this is buu arc shit baby its the point of no return for vegeta its the beginning of the end.. he is realizing his feelings for goku.. i live for this shit man seriously this is what i thrive on

also the goddamn song is called “love is like a ballad” i mean what else can even be said lmfao ..!

#sorry dude this is on u.. u shouldve known when u sent this ask that i’d be incapable of shutting the fuck up #blame urself. i am but a messenger for the truth #kakavege #dbz #answered

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hekateinhell · 1 month

Text

I just need to get something off my chest real quick, there's really no need to read this unless you want to because you're bored lmao.

So I used to be really good at answering the asks I got. I wouldn't say I answered all of them, but I think overall I had a good ratio for a long time! And I loved it! I think the asks feature is the best thing that tumblr has to offer as a social media platform (god knows just about everything else sucks).

I loved getting asks and answering them and it's a great way to talk to others in our little fandom bubbles and trade thoughts and insights with one another. My mental health did take quite a few hits in the past several months, and part of that was real life (school, sickness, death in the family) and part of that was bullshit fandom drama.

But it just occurred to me yesterday that the reason I'm nowhere near as prolific in answering the asks I get is because I have always put so much effort into putting disclaimers behind all my meta, walking on eggshells so people won't throw tantrums every time I share an opinion they don't like.

And you know what? That just made me an nervous, erratic person afraid of her own tumblr shadow. The thought of having to do all the work to put ten thousand disclaimers behind everything I say so some asshole won't vague me because I accidentally hurt their feelings just made me not want to reply to anything at all. It's fucking exhausting having to think of every scenario in which people might interpret whatever you're saying (about fictional characters may I remind you) in the worst light possible.

In the end all that time and effort I put into censoring myself—because I try to be a nice person, I don't want anyone to feel bad because of me, regardless of the fact that that's been never my intention—in the end none of that mattered! There's people that have been vaguing me for almost two years now and it's not like I go seeking out this information but it's a small fandom and I stumble over it on another blog or some shit every once in a while.

Agonizing over whether or not some random is going to interpret everything I say in the worst possible faith and have a fit on main about my shit takes and make a block list of people who interact with my posts is just so stupid honestly, and trying to censor myself didn't do me a shred of good. People still regularly call me names and insult my intelligence because of the characters I ship, the meta I write, and the kinks I enjoy talking about. It doesn't even matter if I've been active recently or not, they're still mad about stuff I said ages ago! I can't win!

So from now on I'm just to do my best to break this depressing old habit and be online without being apologetic and diminishing my own opinions, answer asks however the hell I want without feeling obligated to coddle a bunch of grown ass adults, and if people want to cry about it, there's a box of tissues in the corner. Go nuts. ♥️

#apologies for exposing myself on main as being a person and not three raccoons in a trenchcoat #i miss being on my blog the way i used to be that was a great time 🤧#i'm sure this post will end up vagued too rip but literally i do not care anymore #if you're going to let little old me get under your skin that much then i might as well make myself at home #hekate.txt #fandom wank

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bangtansocean · 9 months

Text

Roommate's Prohibited List: Six

Content Table: 01 l 02 l 03 l 04 l 05 l 06 l 07

“So… how was your date?” Monica asks, sitting in your bed as you enjoy some instant ramen together.

“Not a date, but it was alright.” You nod, your heart accelerating at the memories of last Sunday.

It did, in fact, feel like a date. And it was more than alright.

For the past four days, everyone has asked you about Sunday.

Yeonjun and Kai were the first to ask when Soobin dropped you home, both of them sitting on the couch as they welcomed you in, too distracted by their game to look at you. You were quick to thank Soobin for bringing you home and replied to their question with a soft ‘it was fun’ before making your way back to your room.

You heard Yeonjun invite Soobin to stay and play videogames, stopping you on your tracks as they invited you as well. However, you kindly denied the invitation, as the guilt of not being able to be 100% honest about your day started sinking in.

You heard them ask Soobin about it too, and his reply was as vague as yours which made you feel somewhat giddy inside.

Then Tuesday night while making dinner, Beomgyu joined you in the kitchen to make himself a toast. You engaged in small talk as you both moved around the kitchen, making food before you heard Soobin’s voice approaching from Gyu’s room.

“What’s taking you so long?” He asks before appearing from the dark hall, turning to you with his messy hair and tired eyes. “Oh, y/n.”

You reply with a quiet ‘hi’ that is almost a whisper before turning back to Beomgyu, who's telling you about some drama that happened to him at the gym.

“Oh yeah, how was the Italian thing?” Beomgyu turns to both of you, Soobin now standing next to you as he makes himself a toast too.

You pretend to not hear him as you focus on finishing your dinner, glimpsing at Soobin who's zoned out, thinking about his answer.

“It was fun,” he finally replies, as he goes back to assembling his toast. “I made a fool out of myself, but everything else was great.” You notice there’s an unusual tone in his voice as he cuts his toast in half, taking his plate and walking back into the hall. “I’m starting the movie in 5 minutes, Gyu, if you miss it it's on you.” He speaks as he disappears from the hall into Beomgyu’s room without saying goodbye.

Your roommate rolls his eyes before placing all the ingredients in the fridge, wishing you a good night as he too disappears into his room, leaving you alone as you enjoy your dinner on the counter.

You are left with a million questions on your mind, overanalyzing Soobins attitude and behavior which seemed to be very off. He is usually very nice and sweet to you, but tonight it seemed like he didn’t enjoy your presence, almost like he didn’t even want to acknowledge you.

“Now come on, give me details!” Monica replies in a tantrum-like tone, your eyes rolling as you snap out of your thoughts and join her in bed.

You’ve been keeping the details to yourself, but if there is anyone in the world you trusted with your life, it's Monica.

A cheeky smile appears on your lips before scooching closer to her and whispering all the details of the date. A few giggles escape both of your lips as you go through everything, getting some awn’s and oh my god’s from Monica who listens attentively as she slurps on her ramen without breaking eye contact.

“Oh, bestie,” She whispers before gasping. “He likes you.” She chuckles as she covers her mouth in disbelief. “You are so fucked.”

You grunt frustrated, and throw yourself back into your bed. You pick up the closest pillow and cover your face to let out a muffled scream.

“I don’t know! I don’t know.” You whine, throwing the pillow to the corner of the room. “ That’s what I thought too, but then,” You sigh frustratedly as you tell her about the awkward encounter in the kitchen, “… and you know how he is.'' You remind her how unattainable the man is as you sit back up. “Plus, there’s the rules.”

“Come on!” Monica rolls her eyes before pushing your shoulder lightly. “If you have feelings for someone you should go for it, especially if he is showing signs too.” Monica places her empty ramen cup on the night table. “Fuck the rules! If they kick you out you can always stay at mine.” She shrugs, looking at you with questioning eyes.

You sigh again before running your hand through your hair. “I don't think that's the best idea.” You shake your head, “ I like living here.” You quickly turn down the temptation, thinking about it before letting out an annoyed moan. “But I want to, I want to sooo bad.” You throw your head back, fake crying. “Why does he have to be so fucking hot and cute!?”

"I-"

“Uh..am I interrupting something?” a third voice startles you, turning to the door with big eyes.

Your heart sinks when you notice Beomgyu standing by the door, looking at you both with a raised eyebrow.

“No no, don’t worry about it!” Monica replies pinching your leg discreetly as she clears her throat. “You’re looking good Gyu! You got a date?” Monica asks him as her eyes dance between you and him, a nervous giggle escaping her lips when she realises you are petrified.

How much of that did he listen to?!

“Nah, I wish.” He laughs. “I’m heading to Social Night at uni, you guys are not coming?” Gyu smiles faintly.

“Naaah, a friend told me she was going, but I rather not,” Monica replies. “Me and y/n have a lot to talk about.”

The mention of your name brings you back from your inner panic attack.

“About someone being too fucking hot and cute I assume?” Beomgyu leans on the wall as he crosses his arms on his chest, his eyes now glued to you. “Are you okay?” He giggles a bit, finding your attitude amusing.

Your heart stops as you stare at your friend with daggering eyes.

Lying is really not your forte, so you are not sure how to cover up what the tea is without looking more suspicious than what you already do.

“Just a guy I met from class.” You say, playing it off, hoping he doesn't ask more about the topic, which thankfully he doesn’t.

“Well, I would love to hear all about it, but Soobin is waiting for me. I just wanted to ask if you could take the trash out for me tonight?” He gives you puppy eyes as he uncrosses his hands and claps them together, begging. “I know it's my turn but I haven’t done the recycling stuff and I'm running late, I promise I’ll do it for you in the next two weeks, pleaasee.”

He pouts, hoping you will agree to taking his chores for tonight.

“Sure, don't worry. Monica will help.” You smile at him before turning to Monica, who is now staring at you with a disgusted frown.

“Okay, thanks! You guys are the best!” He gives you two thumbs up, waving before walking out of the room. “Have fun girls! See you later!” The door finally closes and you hear his steps distancing from your room, eventually hearing the main door open and close, meaning you finally got the home to yourselves.

“I'm not helping you separate your trash, what the fuck.” Monica speaks in an annoyed tone.

You roll your eyes at her again, “Yes you fucking are, you almost aired me out to Gyu!” You grab another pillow and hit her with it, making her gasp loudly as she takes the pillow from you and throws it to the corner of the room next to the other pillow you threw not long ago.

“That was all you!” She lifts her hands up, defending herself from your accusations.”Where is Yeonjun anyway?”

“He’s out with his family, it's his sister’s birthday or something, he’s spending the weekend there I believe.” You reply as you make your way to pick up your pillows and place them back on the bed.

“Oh, really.” She says, laying down on your bed.

“Yeap! So it's just you and me baby,” You wink at your friend who gives you another nasty look, “to the trash we go!”

You exchange looks before she ends up giving in, deciding to help you before you try to have her do something worse.

She grunts one more time before getting up, following you to the kitchen to begin Beomgyu’s chore.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

You enjoy small talk as you separate the trash, which thankfully, there isn’t much since the house has been relatively empty since the last trash day.

Once you finish the chore, you move back to your room and begin working on your class presentation that's due next week. Monica and you work fast on it, finishing it right before nighttime.

You are excited to spend the night alone with your best friend, but once you are done with the project, she tells you she won’t be able to stay over as planned as she remembered she has an early doctor's appointment tomorrow.

You pout and beg her to stay, but you fail. And you eventually give up as you know her doctor’s office is closer to her place than yours, and it wouldn’t be worth the hassle in the morning.

So you find yourself alone in the house, unsure of what to do with so much room and time.

Usually, you enjoy being alone, but you had plans to be in company tonight which makes you feel slightly upset at the feeling of an empty house.

You decide to take this alone time to enjoy the big TV in the living room, making some popcorn before taking your favorite corner on the couch and using one of the fluffy blankets Yeonjun bought to make yourself an extremely comfy burrito.

You decide to go for an action movie instead of a romance one in an attempt to distract your brain from the whole Soobin situation.

However, more than half way in, you realise it doesn’t work.

You sigh frustrated, pausing the movie and grabbing your phone to find a solution to your problem.

You’re downloading Tinder, and going on a date with the next cute guy you match with. You quickly create your profile and beginning your swipe adventures.

After a few minutes, you finally find a guy that calls your attention, but you hear the main door unlock, a drunk Beomgyu appearing from the shadows as he stumbles through the entrance and into the living room.

He flashes you a drunk smile, making you laugh at the dorky state he is in.

“Hey! y/n!” He stumbles to the coach, dropping himself next to you as he stares at the popcorn bowl between your legs. “God… can I have some of that?” His hand reaches for a fist of popcorn before you can even answer.

Beomgyu reeks of alcohol, and you watch him enjoy his popcorn in amusement. How much did this poor guy drink?

You feel bad for the hangover he’s going to have tomorrow, but you can’t help being entertained by drunk Gyu.

“Fuck, I'm so drunk,” He mumbles as he reaches for more popcorn, “When do you have class tomorrow?” “I don't.”

He snaps his fingers before pointing at you.”Great! We are gaming tomorrow!” He doesn’t even ask, but he lets you know he demands your company tomorrow. “I need some roomie time. I feel like we haven’t had time to really hang out.” He pouts, making your heart hurt at how cute he’s being.

“Of course, we’ll play tomorrow.” You nod, speaking softly at Beomgyu, who is now about to fall asleep on the couch. “Go to bed, you’re going to hurt your neck if you fall asleep here.”

He mumbles a reply but gives up mid way, sighing as he struggles to get off the couch and walk to his bedroom.

“Okay, goodnight y/n!” He disappears from your sight, a muffled mumbling you can’t decipher coming out of his mouth before he decides to scream the last part of his monologue. “Please don't wake me up. I will kill you!” He screams from his room, making you giggle as you salute towards his room.

“Yes sir!” You reply matching his tone, shaking your head in disbelief as you direct your attention back to your phone, scrolling down the guy’s profile before finally deciding to swipe right.

You stare at the phone satisfied to see it’s a match, typing a quick hello before locking your phone and playing the movie again.

You realize it’s already very late and he’s probably asleep, so you decide to finish your movie and check back tomorrow to see if he answered.

Your stomach rumbles again when the credits start to roll.

You want ramen.

However, you are not sure if you should make more at this hour, taking into consideration you already had one today, but you can’t help your cravings.

You are on your period and your cravings always get the best of you during that time of the month. And hate being on your period! You feel needy, sad, and all over the place.

But after mentally debating with yourself, you decide you deserve a good cup of ramen.

You turn the TV off and make your way to the kitchen, quickly gathering all the ingredients for your ramen.

You quietly begin to cut some green onions, and place an egg to boil when you hear the main door unlocking for the second time tonight.

Wait.

no one else was supposed to come home tonight.

The keys are loud and the steps are messy, a faint mumble coming from the shadow standing by the door as it struggles to take its shoes off.

You stare quietly with the knife in your hand, mentally preparing to attack when the figure finally turns around.

“Jesus fuck, Soobin! What the hell are you doing here?” You whisper in a scolding manner as you put the knife down on the counter and make your way towards him as he rests against the door and takes a big exhale with his eyes closed.

He reeks of alcohol and cologne.

“Oh, it smells so good in here,” He turns to meet you face to face, a drunk smile appearing on his face at the sight of you. “Oh? y/n!”

“Shh!” You place one finger over your mouth, which he mimics as he hunches closer to you and begins to scan the room with big eyes.

“Why are we whispering?” He replies in confusion when he sees there’s no danger in the room.

“Gyu is sleeping,” You explain, to which he nods in understanding. “…why are you cooking then?”

Your face turns serious when he looks at you perplexed.

“I’m hungry.” You roll your eyes and walk back to the kitchen. “Why are you here anyway?”

“Home’s far. me? too drunk.” He walks behind you as he explains why he ended up coming to your place instead of his.

You continue to work on your ramen as he stares at you in silence, swaying in place as his eyes stay glued to the pot of ramen.

You turn to check on him every now and then to make sure he doesn’t fall or something, but he remains standing and watching you cook in silence.

You let out a quiet chuckle before you begin to peel the egg, the faint light of the kitchen over you disappearing when you feel Soobin behind you, his shadow reflecting on the counter as he places his hands on your waist.

The memory of the pizza class flashes through your mind as he caresses your skin over the clothes.

“Did you know…” He whispers in your ear, “That green onions are just regular onions that are not fully grown? Like an immature onion.” He laughs like a dork and you can’t help but to quietly laugh with him.

You slowly turn to look at him with a what the fuck look on your face, both of you laughing as quiet as you can.

“God, I'm hungry.” He whispers, letting go of your waist to rub his tummy like a pregnant woman.

You are endeared by his drunk antics, staring at pregnant Soobin with flutters in your heart as you turn the stove off. “We can share it if you want.” You offer him with a smile.

His face lights up as he nods repeatedly, making you laugh. “Okay, go sit. I’ll bring it to you.”

You place your hand on his chest to push him away gently so you can get the plates, but his hand lands on yours, making you look up into his eyes that are staring back at you fondly.

He stays in silence as he looks at you with a smile on his face, his eyes stealing a glance of your lips before making eye contact again. “Can I help you with anything?” He asks in a low tone, making your heart flutter at the sudden sensual voice.

“No, all good. I got it.” You whisper, smiling back at him as he nods and lets go of your hand.

“Alright, I’ll wait for you on the balcony.” He takes a step back before grabbing a bottle of water, sighing. “Is that okay? I just need some fresh air.” He waits for your approval, and you nod in response after getting the plates and placing them on the counter.

He nods back before he stumbles his way into to the hallway, finally reaching the end.

You can tell he’s trying to keep quiet, but as soon as he tries to open the door of the balcony, a loud door screech echoes around the house.

“Sorry!” Soobin screams-whispers from afar, making you facepalm mentally as you continue plating the food, praying Beomgyu is already in deep, deep sleep and didn’t hear a thing.

You can feel yourself growing nervous as you finish placing half of the egg on each plate, looking down to the ramen before taking a deep breath and making your way down the hallway to meet with Soobin in the terrace.

You are relieved to see Soobin left the door open, and that he’s still awake, sitting calmly as he sips on his water bottle with his back towards you.

“Food is here.” You announce yourself, making him turn around, smiling when he sees you carrying the two plates with a proud smile.

You hand him a plate and he quietly thanks you, his eyes following you as you walk around and sit on the chair next to him. You exchange a stare in silence before turning to your food, both of you digging in at the same time.

You hear a low moan coming from Soobin as he practically devours the food, finishing the small portion of ramen in less than a minute.

“That was amazing,” He compliments your food which you thank in a small bow, slurping on your noodles as you take your time eating your craved food.

“Where did you learn to make such good ramen?”

You reply with a quick ‘at home with my family’, but you regret answering as it only intrigues him more about you and your life.

The quiet dinner suddenly turns into an interview, and you are not sure if you love it or hate it.

Why are you studying business?

Do you have any allergies?

Do you think Rose knew she could have saved Jack, or do you think he intentionally left him to die?

You laugh at the last question, slurping the last bits of noodles on your plate.

“I sure hope not! Imagine going through all that hassle to be with the person you love and then when found in a life or death situation she just lets him die. I’m sure if she knew the door could handle both of them she would have share it with him. Even though I’m also sure he would have said no.”

He stares at you in silence as he thinks about your answer, watching you lift the plate closer to your lips as you drink the last bit of broth left.

“You’re cute.” He huffs, as he continues to stare at you with glistening eyes.

You choke on the broth, taken by surprise at the sudden compliment.

Is he flirting with you?

“Thanks,” You do the same as Soobin and put your plate on the floor next to your chair, “You are cute too” You reply, trying to play it cool as you laugh.

However, Soobin doesn’t laugh with you, but instead stares at you with a mischievous smile.

You notice his eyes going from yours to your lips, his smile slowly fading as he shifts in his chair and leans closer to you, your faces now close enough that you can smell the alcohol from his breath.

“If I'm so cute, why don't you kiss me then?”

⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

a/n: Pleeaase don't kill me for the cliffhanger!! 😬

What do you guys think? Is it finally happening? Your comments and reblogs motivate me to write, so don't forget to share your thoughts, it helps me a lot c:

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I promise chapter seven is coming next week, so hold on tight!

Happy readings, Ceci x

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