#[ it’s really. not for me! but still we persist!!! ]

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Flirting (And Jealousy)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader, Russell Shaw x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @lacilou. And surprise! For the first time, I'm trying out adding Russell Shaw to the lineup because I thought he'd be an interesting addition for this prompt. 💜

Prompt: How would Dean, Ben & Beau react to either other men flirting with us or them obliviously/cluelessly letting other women flirt with them? And how we would react to them -- like how they'd make it up to us, their excuses, etc.

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would react to someone flirting with you. (And others flirting with them.)

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, oblivious flirting, unwanted advances, jealousy, some toxic masculinity (you know Ben 🙄), but ultimately lots of fluff, and some spice too.~

Dean Winchester

Dean isn't one to get jealous...at first.

He knows you're hot as hell. He pretty much expects guys to try and shoot their shot.

Plus, he's secure enough in his relationship with you to know you wouldn't consciously entertain someone who's flirting with you.

He also knows you're strong enough to take care of yourself, even with a persistent asshole.

However.

The second a man gets into your face or tries to put his hands on you, Dean's stepping in -- either to twist the man's arm nearly out of its socket, or deliver a swift punch between the eyes, or his personal favorite, grabbing the back of the guy's neck and slamming his face onto the counter.

Dean finds the sound of bone breaking against varnished wood, followed closely by the heavy tripping thud of a body to the floor, deeply satisfying.

You heave a sigh. Not because you're all that annoyed at Dean, but because you tried to warn the guy.

Now, Dean knows he used to be...well, a "ladies man," putting it mildly. He's improvised more panty-dropping one-liners than a Magic Mike stripper. His success rate is 9-and-10 (because there's always room for improvement).

He directs all that flirtatious, playful, sexual energy on you. He's fallen for you, committed to you, and once he makes a decision with his heart, Dean Winchester doesn't have an unfaithful bone in his body.

However.

He can't altogether stop women from flirting with him. Like at one of the many diners you, Sam, and Dean stop to eat at after a hunt.

"Let me know if you need anything else, okay?" the waitress says. She brushes her hand up his arm and squeezes his shoulder, giving Dean a too-bright smile that leaves nothing to the imagination (at least to you).

He smiles back at her. "Thanks, sweetheart."

It's like a reflex. He thinks he's being polite. He doesn't even follow the path of her hip-swaying walk with his eyes -- like he certainly would've before he met you.

You still stare at Dean incredulously. When the woman walks away, he smiles at you as if nothing happened. Sam wisely keeps to himself and sips his beer, hiding a smirk.

Dean notices the way your lips are pursed, bitchface activated. "What?" he asks.

You cross your arms. "Really?"

He frowns. "What's the matter?"

"Really. You need me to tell you not to let that woman eye-fucking you to put her hands all over you?" You shake your head. More dryly you add, "Right in front of me, too. I gotta give it to her, she's got brass balls."

Dean is bewildered, but then he replays the moment in his head and realizes that you're right. He kinda fucked up.

He sees the way you're getting all testy, and he has to chuckle.

"Okay. I'm sorry, sweetheart. My bad."

He reaches for your hand and manages to uncross your arms. You're stubborn in your irritation, but Dean is the king of persuasion, giving you teasing, flirty bedroom eyes and waggling brows as he pulls you towards him.

If you're still reluctant to soften, he adds, "Come on, don't be a sourpuss. Come 'ere."

Eventually he breaks you, making you laugh and hit his arm with no real force behind it.

Even Sam shakes his head, seeing how his brother manages to pacify you by sliding his arm around your shoulders across the booth. Dean leans in and kisses along your neck. He inhales your scent and hums in pleasure.

Sam clears his throat. He has to awkwardly look away.

"Gonna forgive me?" Dean asks, his lips moving against your skin. "Though I gotta admit, I kinda like it when you're jealous. All growly and fiesty. Got myself a little tiger."

You roll your eyes, but your lips tug at a smile. Your face warms in a blush, especially as his hand wanders under your jacket and teasingly up your side.

You slip your fingers into his hair, making sure to give a sharp little tug on it for good measure. He just laughs.

Oh, you'll forgive him, but maybe you'll make him do a little more penance when you all get back home.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a jealous man from the onset when a man flirts with you.

His lips purse, his jaw clicks, and he keeps a firm eye on the situation. He doesn't like it.

But to his credit, he tries not to act on it right away, letting you handle it the way you want to.

However, like Dean, the moment someone gets into your personal space or tries to touch you, he's pulling out some Sheriff moves.

If the man grabs at you, Beau's got his arm twisted behind his back so fast, he can almost feel ligaments popping. Beau gives a calm, but firm warning before sending the guy on his way. (He'd like to do more, but the department frowns on excessive violence.)

Maybe part of you gets annoyed at the show of jealousy, but a larger part of you can't help but be turned on when he protects you. You know it's not because he thinks you need protecting, but because he wants to.

"Can't help it, darlin'," he's said. "It's just how I was raised."

But you're the one that bristles when Danielle, a PTA mom at Emily's school, flirts with him. She laughs at his corny jokes with her white teeth and her perfectly layered and coiffed blonde hair.

She even gives him an extra cookie from her offering at the school's bake sale. (She knows what most of this town knows -- that the way to the Sheriff's heart is all too often through his stomach.)

Beau just nods along, smiling polite with that charming grin of his, totally oblivious while he eats. The last straw for you is when she wipes a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

Your mouth falls open in shock. "Are you shitting me?"

You accidentally say it out loud, earning not only your boyfriend's surprised look, but Danielle's guilty one as well. (And some of the kids.)

Blushing in embarrassment, you pivot on your heel and start packing up your supplies for the bake sale.

That's when Beau realizes that he fucked up.

He politely excuses himself from Danielle and goes to help you (wiping the crumbs off his face and licking chocolate off his thumb). He can tell you're feeling more than a little icy towards him, but he tries to make up for it by doing all the heavy lifting, bringing back things to the car, and helping you with the bags before he calls Emily over.

It's a long car ride home, awkward and tense. Emily can tell something's off between you and her dad, but when she asks about it, you claim nothing's wrong.

Beau knows better.

He waits until the three of you get home to the apartment you share with him, and after putting the bake sale stuff away, he follows you into the bedroom.

"Sweetheart--"

"What the hell was that, Beau?" You come in hot with it, and Beau is quick to try and ease your tension with an apology.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Couldn't you see that she was eyeing you like a honey-glazed ham?"

Beau's lips twitch at a grin, but you're not amused. You cross your arms and give him a warning look. That's when he wises up.

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry." He chances taking a few slow steps towards you, raising his brows and keeping his hands up in surrender.

You eye him narrowly, but you let him get close enough to slip his arms around you. He gathers you against his chest and presses a lingering kiss to your cheek.

"I mean it. Won't happen again," he promises. His hands mold to the curve of your waist and squeeze gently. His lips move, burning a sweet path along your jawline, your chin, over the apple of your cheeks, and finally your lips. You breathe into it, and you can't help but cling to the front of his buttoned-down shirt.

"Do me a favor," you say quietly between kisses. "Don't eat Danielle's cookies."

Beau smiles against your lips. "Don't you worry, darlin'. From now on, I'll tell her that I've got some good cookie at home."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, Ben doesn't fuck around.

...Well, in the sense that he can't tolerate another man even looking at you flirtatiously, or otherwise with any kind of intent.

Depending on the severity, at best, it'll have Ben shooting the man a stony look of warning.

At worst, it ruins the day -- namely with the sound of bone snapping and a man's sobbing howl of pain.

You try to get him to tone it down ("For God's sake, Ben. It's fine. Just relax."), but this is one thing he well and truly doesn't budge on.

Ben is possessive. Because you're his. His to touch, and his to protect.

In his mind, it's fucking simple.

Whenever you get irritated with this brutish, knuckle-dragging, caveman mentality, you try to remember why he does it.

It's indicative of how much he actually cares about you.

Because if he didn't, he wouldn't really give a shit if other men were flirting with you. (He'd just find another woman to try and charm back to his apartment.)

So you've learned how to try and finesse these situations so that Ben doesn't notice.

You've also stopped letting down men easy, proverbially cutting off their dick and balls with your words.

Because it's quite literally to save their dumbass life.

But when other women flirt with Ben, he takes it all with indulgent smiles, throwing in a wink and a sweetheart every now and then.

He doesn't blame them for flirting with him, checking him out. He's Soldier Boy, after all, and in his mind, it's not his fault they can't help themselves around him.

However, a smile and a wink is all that he allows himself.

If he truly cares about you (and though he doesn't often express it in words, he does), then the unfamiliar twinge of guilt stops him whenever he almost accepts a woman's alluring invitation--spoken or unspoken.

His mouth might spew arrogance and gilded lies, but his actions too often betray what he really feels.

And what he really feels can't be any more clear than when he goes after you, instead of indulging the woman who basically undressed him with her eyes, whispered sultry, sexy offerings in his ear, and invited him to go home with her.

Seeing you take off out the double doors of the club, Ben rolls his eyes. He brushes the woman off without a backwards glance, and follows you out into the night air. He grabs your hand before you can get far in your heels.

"What the hell's the matter now?" he asks dryly.

You turn on him with an incredulous look.

"That woman was practically sucking your neck, Ben!"

"All right, don't fucking overreact. You're getting hysterical," he says, before guiding you back into his arms.

"I'm not fucking hysterical, you ass!" You push against his chest, but he doesn't budge, nor does he let you go. This isn't a good area, and he doesn't want you out in these streets at this time of night without him at your side.

"Ben," you say sharply. You look up at him in irritation, but he just smirks and strokes your side with his thumb.

Yes, (in his mind) you're being a little difficult, but he thinks your jealousy is amusing, adorable, and kind of hot all at the same time.

Ben doesn't bother with saying anything more to convince you. He just slips a hand behind your neck and kisses you soundly.

He invades your mouth with his tongue and devours you, reminding you that you're the one he wants.

He waylays you with his strong hands framing your body against his, and with his sinful mouth, until you finally melt into his embrace.

He's chosen you countless time before, and he knows he'll keep choosing you, for as long as this lasts.

Russell Shaw

Russell always clocks the "situation" right away when a man starts to flirt with you.

He's not one to make a scene of it at first, depending on the time and place.

But he is quick to sidle up to your side, pointedly slip a hand along your waist, and greet you with a deceptive smile.

"Hey, sweetheart. Let's grab that table over there. 'S more comfortable than the bar."

He glances up at the man, sharpness hidden well behind his green eyes. Whether the guy picks up on it or not, Russell is making a mugshot in his mind -- and he never forgets a face.

You eye him knowingly, but you let him guide you away. He's kind of cute when he's jealous, and it doesn't take much to spark that well of protectiveness that lies in wait just under his skin.

Russell isn't easily fazed by most things, but one sure way to provoke his temper (and those rougher, darker shades of him that he tries his best not to show you) is for a man to push his luck with you.

It really wouldn't take much effort at all for the former soldier to have a man clutching his bloody, shattered nose, let alone to dump his broken body in front of the closest hospital. But somehow, Russell manages to curb those darker urges. (Again, don't tempt him.)

But when another woman flirts with him, you're the one who starts to have steam coming out of your ears.

Russell doesn't miss much. He recognizes the sultry inflection in the woman's words. He catches the subtle, sensuous gleam in her eyes when she rakes him up and down with them.

He also notes the moment you look over and realize what's happening.

Regardless if you're looking or not, he tries his best to stay distant, but polite, even as a warning twinge of "aww shit" runs up his spine.

He tries to play things off with an amiable smile and being purposefully oblivious.

Until the woman gets bold, slipping her hand over Russell's and up his arm a bit, before she withdraws, tilting her head with a sweet-as-pie smile.

Cue Russ's awkward laugh/clearing of the throat. Before he has time to fully pull away and just come out with the, Sorry, I actually have a girlfriend -- you return to his side and pointedly grab his hand.

"Come on, honey, we'll be late," you say, giving him a tense smile.

The aww shit feeling is back, but Russell just nods and falls into step with you.

When you two have enough privacy to hash it out, you let him have it.

"What the hell was that?!"

Russell can't help but chuckle. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I tried to keep it classy, but that woman was persistent. Not that I blame her--"

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes (not that you really blame her either). Then you stare at your man in annoyance, crossing your arms. "I didn't see you trying all that hard to fend her off, huh, Romeo? If another man had touched me like that, you would've broken his fingers off, like a fucking caveman."

Russell's brows raise at the dig, but the way you're getting all testy is kind of cute (and also kinda hot).

"All right. You got me there," he says. He slips his arms around your waist and tries to soften you with a charming grin. "Come on, sweetheart. You know I'm not going anywhere."

"Do I?" you blurt out, before you have a chance to reign it back in.

Russell's contract jobs take him all over the country -- all over the world. Yes, he's on his way out, he claims. He wants to settle down with you, or so he says.

But you have no idea of knowing what he does when he's not with you.

All those days out on the road, crashing in skeevy motels, winding down at dive bars -- has he ever been tempted to "sample" the local fare? Has he ever...

Russell's amusement fades, sobering into a frown and a furrowing of his brows. He hums in disapproval. He doesn't like what he's seeing in your eyes: doubt, most of all.

"Hey," he says. It's a serious tone you don't often hear in his voice. He curls a finger under your chin and tilts your face up to meet his.

"I'm gonna need you to listen to me, and listen good," he says. You frown at that, but he brushes his thumb across your cheek, a small, but tender caress. "You and me, we've got something good. I know what that means. So you can believe me when I say, I'm in this. I'm right here, even when I'm not here."

And he smiles at you. "That make sense?"

Slowly, you start to smile too. "Not really," you laugh.

But it does. You know what he's trying to say, and...you believe him. Your fingers curl in the front of his shirt.

Tentatively, you lean up and press your lips to his; just a sweet, slow meeting.

Russell cups your cheek and leans in for a deeper taste, a deeper conviction of every word he just said.

I love you, is what it really means, even if he's not able to say that just yet.

AN: 😮‍💨 Well, there we go! lol I love me a protective man. 💜 Hope you enjoy this set of headcanons!

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[uconnwbbcrashout]

last winter break

chapter iii: “i think i’m gonna kiss you”

paige x azzi

word count: 6.5k

content: swearing, some fluffy banter, and a healthy dose of angst

chapter list: here

author’s notes: after a long wait, it’s finally here!! i wanna apologize for the 100th time for how long this took me to write. as you can tell by the word count compared to chapters i & ii, this one kinda got out of hand. but i'm happy w/ how it turned out and i hope it's worth the wait!! :) enjoy!

Winter 2022-2023

AZ: hey, i saw the news

AZ: about your acl i mean

AZ: i hope you’re doing okay p

p (IGNORE): thanks. good as i can be yk

p (IGNORE): surgery went well and all

p (IGNORE): but hey

p (IGNORE): delayed not denied right ?

changed user’s contact name to “p”

AZ: right

AZ: you’ll be okay

AZ: i know it

p: i hope youre right

*****

p: did you see the schedule

p: we play you guys

p: dec 11

p: well i wont be but

AZ: i did!!

AZ: you guys don’t stand a chance btw

p: damn way to kick a girl while shes down az

AZ: sorry?

*****

AZ: happy birthday paige

AZ: you’re so old

p: shut up

p: thank you azzi

*****

p: happy bday az

p: yOu’Re sO oLd

AZ: ok i had that coming

AZ: but thank you :)

*****

p: just saw the clip

p: hope you and your knee are ok <3

p: rest up azzi

AZ: thanks p

AZ: looks like we’re both gonna be on the bench next week

AZ: we’re still beating you guys though

p: well see bout that

*****

AZ: told you so

p: i couldnt even play bro

AZ: and i could??

p: whatever

p: we beatin you in march idc

AZ: sure p sure

*****

Azzi sighs, stretching her thumbs again where they hover over the keyboard on her phone. She’s laid out on her parents’ couch, legs propped up on a pillow, feeling utterly ridiculous as she tries to muster up the courage to send a text to Paige. She scrolls back up through their conversations from the past few months for what must be the eighth time today, overanalyzing every word.

It shouldn’t be this difficult, really—it’s hardly the first time this year that she’s been the one to reach out and text Paige. And she’s literally just trying to ask her if she’s going to a party. It’s an extremely low stakes conversation topic.

And yet here she is, practically ripping her hair out at the thought of pressing "send."

In all honesty, it’s a pretty good way to sum up what this year has been—so much more difficult than it ever needed to be.

And to say it’s been a weird fucking year would be an understatement.

After a disappointing tournament run in March, Maryland’s team changes significantly, so much so that Azzi has a hard time keeping track of it all. Graduations, transfers out, transfers in, new freshman—they're basically an entirely new team by the time the season starts up again in the fall.

And then she meets a girl, Maya, late one night in February when she’s cramming for an exam in the student union. She’s on the track team—a sprinter—tall, and devastatingly pretty. She’s unwaveringly confident, too, sitting across the empty table from Azzi and striking up a conversation with her easily. They end up talking for so long that night that the cleaning staff have to kick them out.

Things just click after that.

It's nice. It’s safe. It’s fun.

It’s sneaking into team housing well past curfew. It’s study dates at their favorite coffee shop on campus. It’s stolen hoodies and cold winter nights, huddled together for heat. It’s good luck kisses and lingering hugs before away games or meets. It’s late-night FaceTimes when there’s hundreds of miles separating them. It’s flower bouquets and greeting cards left on kitchen counters.

It’s something that feels a lot like the beginning stages of love.

And, above all, it makes Azzi happy.

There’s just one persistent, unavoidable problem—there's never enough time. Differing practice schedules. Basketball games and track meets. Press conferences and weight training. Midterms and March Madness. Conference championships and long flights across the country.

And it’s unfortunate, really, because a big part of Azzi thinks things could’ve been different. That maybe in another life—one where they met at a different time—things might have stuck. Things might have been long-term, could have worked out.

But in this life, they don’t.

After that it’s fairly quiet. Some random hookups here and there over the summer. A couple dates that fizzle out by the end of the night.

In the end, nothing she really regrets, but nothing that's as real as those few months were with Maya.

And then she reinjures her knee in December, forcing her to be sidelined. An unfortunately familiar seat on the bench with her name on it.

And then, of course, there's this weird situation with Paige. One that Azzi herself more or less created when she first reached out in August after Paige tore her ACL. It isn't like texting a stranger, but it also isn't like texting the old best friend she once knew. It's something in between, some strange acquaintance-like relationship that leaves Azzi entirely confused as to what she should or shouldn’t say.

Even if it is a bit strange, and maybe not quite ideal, she has to admit that it's still nice to have Paige back in some capacity. And enough time has passed, enough people have come and gone, that Azzi's just starting to warm up to the idea of someday calling Paige her friend again. Just a little bit.

Oh, and maybe Azzi also still finds her to be incredibly attractive.

But that's hardly relevant.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, catching her so off guard that she nearly drops it on her face. Her heart starts pounding in her ears, her stomach fluttering with anticipation—

Damn, it’s just from Diamond.

Azzi groans, clicking the notification.

diamond: you text her yet

Azzi rolls her eyes at her friend’s impatience.

AZ: almost

diamond: you’re actually killing me here

diamond: gimme her number

diamond: i'm gonna text her if you don’t

AZ: absolutely not

AZ: i regret telling you anything

diamond: no you don’t

diamond: now quit stalling and text. her.

AZ: oh my god FINE

Azzi swipes out of their conversation and taps back into her one with Paige.

Here goes nothing.

AZ: hey, you going to that stupid party again this year?

She turns her phone off immediately and slams it face down into the couch cushions, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

Her phone chimes not more than 30 seconds later, and Azzi half expects it to be another text from Diamond asking for updates.

But it isn’t.

p: yo

p: the one at that football players house??

p: maybe. ion know yet

“Oh my God,” she mutters, fingers already flying over her keyboard.

AZ: dude

AZ: it’s literally tomorrow

AZ: how do you not know

p: dude

p: ima busy person

p: my time is valuable yk

p: wbu tho

Azzi tries to fight the smile that’s forming on her face. She thinks for a minute, deciding to answer honestly.

AZ: i was thinking about it

Azzi watches with bated breath as the three dots on the screen disappear and reappear several times.

p: then maybe i will

Azzi sighs, closing her eyes and pressing the side of her phone into her forehead.

I’m never getting a straight answer out of her, she concedes.

*****

If anyone were to ask Azzi, she would argue that a cropped cami tank top with a pair of ripped jeans is perfectly reasonable attire for a casual house party in early January. The below-freezing temperatures are simply irrelevant.

It, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Paige is likely to show up tonight. Azzi doesn’t think about how Paige had hugged her from behind and mumbled, “Looks so good, baby,” the last time she wore this shirt in front of her. She also doesn’t think about how Paige always seems especially distracted when she wears her hair up in a bun like this, blue eyes constantly straying to the lines of Azzi’s neck and collarbones.

She absolutely does not, under any circumstances, think about that. At all.

Azzi just likes to feel and look good is all. She’s got the former down easily, and she thinks she’s managed the latter, too, if the number of people who have come up to her tonight is any indication. Guys, girls, people she recognized and people she didn’t—it didn’t really seem to matter. It felt like there was an endless stream of drinks being offered, numbers trying to be given out, and suggestive conversations directed at her. It was flattering, sure, but none of them had the right tint of blonde hair, the exact shade of blue eyes, the correct build of muscle she had been searching for all night.

She downs the last of her drink, crushing the plastic cup in her hands and tossing it in the trash can behind her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, checking the time. No texts.

Lifting a hand up to rub at her eye, she yawns and scans the room one more time, debating whether she should just call it a night at this point.

And then she feels it—the soft graze of fingers along her lower back, just above the waistband of her jeans. A warm, featherlight touch, then the familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood and a low voice in her ear.

“Azzi.”

She spins towards her quickly, her breath catching in her throat at the proximity of Paige’s face to hers, just inches away. Azzi leans back a bit, mostly to give herself a chance to breathe, and feels the hand on her lower back slide to lightly press on the side of her hip.

Azzi drags her eyes over Paige then, unable to help herself, taking in the tech fleece pants hanging low on her hips and the black fitted T-shirt straining against the muscles in her arms. Azzi’s a bit surprised to see that she’s wearing her glasses—it’s not something she does very often. Paige is smirking, her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders, and Azzi swears she must have gotten taller since the last time she saw her.

She manages to catch her breath for a moment, flashing a smile that she hopes doesn’t reveal the nerves that she’s feeling. “Hi, Paige.”

Neither of them seems to know what to do after that because, honestly, what are you supposed to do in this type of situation?

To Azzi’s surprise, Paige makes the first move, stepping into Azzi’s space and snaking her other arm gently around Azzi’s waist. It takes Azzi a few seconds to respond before she leans into Paige and circles her arms around her shoulders. Azzi’s heart rate picks up even more when she feels Paige’s breath being released heavily against her, the tension leaving her shoulders.

“This okay?” Paige asks, her breath hot against the outside of Azzi’s ear. Azzi hums in agreement, settling her head to rest on Paige’s shoulder.

It probably should be awkward, and it is for just a second or two, but muscle memory kicks in and it ends up being more comforting than anything. It’s a hug after all, something they’ve done probably hundreds, if not thousands, of times over the years.

They could be there for a few seconds or a few minutes—Azzi really isn’t sure. At some point she feels someone bump into her as they walk by and that snaps her out of it, makes her realize that they are still at this party and people are definitely looking. She takes a step back and clears her throat, patting Paige’s shoulder once before dropping her arms to her sides.

“You look good, P,” Azzi admits, smiling softly.

Paige coughs and looks over her shoulder for a second before turning back to face her and—

Is she blushing?

She coughs again before saying, “Thanks. You do too, Az.”

Azzi smiles appreciatively, looking down at her hands. “Couple people here seemed to think so, too.”

Paige chuckles. “Yeah, saw ‘em all lined up for you.”

“You been talking to anyone else here?”

“Nah, not really,” Paige replies, waving her hand, and Azzi glances up to meet her eyes. Paige shrugs. “Only really came here for one person, you know?”

Azzi doesn’t have to ask her who that person is—the way Paige’s eyes are trailing across her face tells her everything she needs to know.

“Is that so?” Azzi crosses her arms in front of her, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Mhm.” Paige glances around the room before leaning into Azzi’s space again. “Hey, wanna get outta here? We can go somewhere else or somethin’.”

“I guess I can swing that,” Azzi agrees, hoping she comes across as indifferent as possible.

“Aight, cool.” Paige pats her pockets, searching for her keys. “You take your car here?”

Azzi shakes her head. “No, I walked.”

Paige raises an eyebrow at her, an incredulous look on her face. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Azzi tries again, patting her own pockets to prove that they're empty.

“You walked here,” Paige repeats, still disbelieving. “In this weather.”

“It was only, like, 20 minutes.”

“There’s no way.”

“It’s better for the environment!”

“You’re insane.”

“Oh my God, can we just take your car or not?” Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Always the passenger princess.” Paige remarks, looking smug. “But, yeah, let’s go.” Paige beckons for Azzi to follow her to the coatrack. Paige holds the door open as they pull on their coats, both of the waving their hands over their shoulders as some people call out to them.

The short walk to Paige’s car is quiet, the occasional crunch of footsteps on snow the only sound. Azzi slips into the passenger seat and clicks her seat belt on, watching as Paige does the same in the driver’s seat. Paige drums her fingers quietly on the steering wheel, and Azzi glances out the window to look back at the house they just came from.

“So, uh, where to?” Paige asks, breaking the silence.

Azzi thinks for a moment before turning to Paige with a grin.

“Slushies?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

*****

“There’s just no way he said that,” Azzi giggles, readjusting her feet where they rest on Paige’s dashboard. They’re parked outside of Azzi’s parents’ house, heat blasting through the vents, SZA playing softly through the speakers, conversation flowing freely, half-drunken slushies melted and abandoned in the cupholders between them.

“I swear it’s true!” Paige promises.

“He for real told you that you have ‘the shittiest shooting form he’s ever fucking seen’?”

“On God, he did,” Paige laughs, running a hand through her hair. “Coach can be ruthless when he’s pissed off, man.”

“And you wanted me to come to UConn because?”

“Oh, c'mon, Az. You know no one can stay mad at you.” Paige reaches out and pokes at Azzi’s cheek. “Not with that face.”

Azzi pushes her hand away, flustered. “Shut up, P.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Whatever.”

A comfortable silence stretches on then, the two of them taking a moment to enjoy each other’s presence.

Azzi glances down at her watch. “I should probably get going,” she admits regretfully, turning around and rummaging in the backseat for her coat.

“Lemme pull up for you,” Paige insists, putting the car in drive and turning into the driveway.

She feels Paige put the car in park again just as she manages to find her jacket. “Thanks,” Azzi starts, pulling the door handle—

It’s locked.

What the hell?

Azzi yanks on it twice to be sure before turning to level her a stare. There’s a mischievous glint in Paige's eye that she doesn't trust. “So, are you letting me out or what?”

Paige keeps smiling widely at her, not moving or saying anything.

“Paige.”

Azzi watches Paige nod her head towards the front of the house, and Azzi follows the motion to see Curry and Stewie poking their heads through the curtains, their barks echoing off the window. Azzi shakes her head and glances back at Paige. “What is it?”

Paige shrugs, bringing her hands up to rest on the wheel again. “You gotta at least let me see my kids, Azzi.”

“Are you inviting yourself inside my house?” Azzi feels her eye twitching.

“Please,” Paige begs, and then she honest to God pouts at Azzi. “Think I’m due a visitation.”

“You are actually so annoying.” Azzi leans her head against the cool glass of the car window, closing her eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Paige asks, her voice lifting excitedly.

“It will be if you unlock this.” Azzi pulls on the door handle repeatedly.

“Ha, let’s go!” Paige exclaims, pressing the "unlock" button immediately and sprinting out of the car. She’s on the front porch and jumping in place before Azzi even has the chance to close the car door behind her.

“Alright, chill out,” Azzi mutters, brushing past her and turning the key into the lock. Paige pushes the door open the rest of the way and stumbles through the doorframe, kicking her shoes off. She makes it about five feet into the house before she drops to her knees and starts petting and hugging the two dogs racing around her.

Azzi locks the door behind her, and she can’t help the smile that overtakes her face when she sees Paige laid out on the ground, Stewie and Curry clambering over her to lick her face.

“My kids,” Paige coos, cradling Stewie in one arm and scratching Curry’s chin with her other hand. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s home now.”

Shaking her head, Azzi tears her eyes away from the scene and flops onto the couch. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and makes herself comfortable.

Paige stands up after a few minutes and stretches her arms above her head, groaning dramatically. Azzi catches a glimpse of her shirt riding up and her boxers peeking out before she pulls her phone closer to her face, fighting the heat creeping up on her cheeks. Paige doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she luckily doesn’t say anything about it. She moves to peek her head in the kitchen and the hallway before she reenters the living room.

“Nobody home?” Paige asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Azzi grabs a throw pillow off the couch and hurls it at her, but Paige catches it easily. “Stop. They went to a family holiday party thing I think.”

“And how the hell did you get outta goin’ to that?” Azzi feels the couch shake as Paige hops over the back of it and settles in across from her.

She puts her phone down and looks at Paige more fully then. “Like you said, no one can say no to this,” she explains, flashing her signature dimpled smile and pointing at it with both hands.

“I was jokin’ when I said that,” Azzi thinks she hears Paige grumble as she hugs the pillow she’s still holding to her chest.

Azzi goes back to scrolling on her phone, and she sees Paige throw the pillow up in the air and catch it a few times in her periphery.

She hears a heavy sigh, but she ignores it, opting to respond to a few texts from her teammates instead.

Then there’s another sigh, somehow more emphatic than the last, and the push of a foot against her own.

“Azzi.”

Maybe if I ignore her for long enough, she’ll stop, Azzi considers.

“Azzi.”

Just pretend you don’t hear her.

“Azzi Fudd.”

When has that ever actually worked, though?

“Azzi, please.”

Oh my fucking God, why did I let her in my house?

She clicks her phone off and drops it at her side, glaring daggers at Paige. “What?”

“Dude, I’m bored,” Paige complains.

“Dude, you literally do not have to be here,” Azzi points out.

“Entertain me, please.” Paige is practically begging now. “Aren’t you supposed to do that for your guests?”

Azzi closes her eyes and throws an arm over her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely annoying?”

“Yeah, you. Multiple times today, actually.”

“I was so right about that.”

“Okay, but can we do somethin’?” Paige asks again, kicking at her foot. Azzi kicks back, sliding her arm off her face.

“2K?” she suggests, gesturing to the controllers on the coffee table.

Paige’s eyes light up and she’s up in a flash, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “Fuck yes. Imma be the Lynx, though.”

“Whatever you want.”

*****

“Damn, you letting me win now, Paige?”

“Bro, ‘course not.”

“What’s your excuse this time?”

“Not my fault you keep distractin’ me, Az.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your eyes off me, P.”

“Shut up. One more, I swear. Then we can quit.”

“Only if you win though, right?”

“Bro, just play.”

“Fine.”

*****

It’s many, many, games later—the clock on the wall having ticked over to the A.M. hours long ago—before Azzi has to tap out, eyes bleary and energy drained.

“Alright, I’m done,” Azzi sighs, tossing the controller on the coffee table and standing up slowly to stretch her back.

“Finally givin’ up?” Paige challenges, raising her eyebrows at her. Amazingly, somehow, she doesn’t look tired in the slightest.

“No, I’m not 'giving up.' I’ll literally fall asleep if we play one more.”

“If you say so.”

“Paige,” Azzi whines, pouting at her. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Aight, let’s be done then,” Paige agrees, setting her controller aside and standing up to stretch out.

“Are you awake enough to drive home?” Azzi questions.

“Me? Imma be just fine,” Paige assures her, moving toward the door. She bends down to pick up her shoes and pulls the curtain aside with a finger to peer outside. “Yeah, it’s no problem—oh, shit.”

Azzi strides over, reaching for the curtain to open it. “What is it?”

“Uh, well,” Paige starts, voice slightly muffled behind the thick fabric. “There’s a—”

Azzi grabs hold of the curtains, yanking them away to reveal the scene outside. Her jaw drops.

“—blizzard,” Paige finishes.

A fresh layer of snow, several inches deep, covers the ground. The wind lifts it up, blowing it around wildly, creating near whiteout conditions. Azzi can barely see Paige’s car parked in the driveway, a mere ten feet away.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Azzi mutters, staring disbelievingly out the window.

Paige furrows her brow, seeming to think something over for a minute. “Nah, I’ll still drive home.” She sits down on the recliner, untying the laces on her shoe.

“Like hell you will,” Azzi scoffs.

Paige looks up at her, pausing her movements. “Bro, chill. It’s, like, a couple blocks.”

But Azzi is persistent, moving to guard the door, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not letting you go out in that.”

“I can drive slow.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” Azzi retorts, readjusting her arms. “Just stay, please. It’s too dangerous.”

“If you’re sure,” Paige concedes, tossing her sneakers behind her.

“I am.”

“Cool,” Paige stands, stretching her arms again. “I got the couch then.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, punches Paige’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t be stupid, P.”

Paige brings up a hand to rub at the spot Azzi hit, wincing in mock hurt. “Ow. Stupid ‘bout what?”

“You can just sleep in my bed. You are a guest after all,” Azzi points out, referring back to what Paige had said earlier.

Paige wiggles her eyebrows for the second time tonight, and Azzi considers punching her again, harder this time. “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Oh my God, stop. Look, I’ll take the couch, you take the bed? That fine?” Azzi offers, rubbing at her eyes.

“That’s dumb. You’re not gonna sleep in your own bed?”

Azzi throws her arms up in the air exasperatedly. “What do you suggest then?”

“I’on see why we can’t both just sleep in the bed,” Paige shrugs, not really meeting Azzi’s eyes.

How the hell did we get here?

“Whatever, sure,” Azzi relents, even though every fiber of her being is urging her to do the exact opposite. “I’m too tired for this. My family is gonna be home soon and I wanna sleep at least a little before they barge in.” She turns away and starts dragging her feet down the hallway to her room, hearing Paige padding quietly behind her. She pushes the door open with her shoulder and immediately goes to her closet, searching for something more comfortable to change into.

In the corner of her eye she spots Paige, shuffling about the room, eyes roaming over her pink bed sheets, the assortment of unicorn stuffed animals on her desk, the rainbow decals on her mirror. “Haven’t really changed much, huh?

Azzi grabs a pair of fleece pajama pants and a T-shirt, chuckling. “I don’t exactly live here anymore.”

“Good point.” Paige nods her head, running a finger along Azzi’s trophy shelf. Her eyes spot one item in particular and she takes it off the shelf. She flips the medal over to study the engraving on the back. “‘2018 Minnesota State Tournament: Class AAAA Champions’,” she reads with a scowl on her face. “Still can’t believe you guys beat us.”

Azzi walks up to her and snatches the medal from her, setting it back in its place. “Still can’t believe you’re not over it. This was, like, five years ago.”

“Aw, c’mon now. That last foul call was bullshit and you know it,” Paige grumbles.

“I think you’re just mad I dropped 30 points on your ass,” Azzi teases.

Paige frowns, crossing her arms. “No one was helpin’ me on defense.”

“Uh huh. Look, I’m gonna get dressed and stuff,” Azzi calls over her shoulder on her way to the bathroom. She pauses in the doorway and points a finger at Paige accusingly. “No touching anything else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige promises with a mock salute.

Azzi changes into her pajamas and gets ready for bed as quickly as her fatigued body will allow, which is to say not very quickly at all. By the time she’s done, she’s so drained that she’s sluggishly dragging her body back to her room.

She’s rounding the corner into her room, dirty clothes from the party in hand, when she happens to look up. She chokes on air, clothing falling out of her hands, and stumbles to regain her balance.

Paige is sprawled out on her bed, hair splaying across her pillows, the light of her phone screen lighting up her face.

But none of that is the issue here.

The issue here is that Paige is wearing a sports bra and pair of boxers and that’s it.

The lines of her hips are visible, her abs pulled taut, and Azzi suddenly feels like she needs to cover her eyes, unless she wants to start choking on air again. “What the fuck are you doing?” she squeaks out, hands covering her face.

She hears Paige laugh. “It’s hot as hell in here. I’on know why you keep the temp at, like, 75 degrees all the time.”

“So you had to take your clothes off?”

“It’s nothin’ you haven’t seen before anyways.”

“Paige.”

“Azzi.”

Azzi leans against the wall, dropping her hands from her face but keeping her eyes screwed tightly shut. “Can you—God, can you at least put a shirt on or something?”

I’m not sleeping a wink tonight if she doesn’t.

She hears the bed creak slightly and assumes Paige must be sitting up now. “If I gotta.”

Azzi takes that as agreement and blindly feels her way to her closet, searching for the closest T-shirt she can find and pulling it off the hanger. She tosses it behind her in the direction of the bed.

“Okay, Imma get ready too then, I guess,” Paige is saying, the sound of her footsteps becoming more distant as she exits the room.

Azzi expels all the air out of her lungs, finally allowing herself to open her eyes. With shaky legs she makes her way to the bed, tucking herself under the covers. She takes a few more steadying breaths.

Pull it together, Fudd.

Paige is back sooner than Azzi is ready for her to be, but she stops a few feet into the room and gestures at her shirt. “This funny to you or somethin’?”

Azzi takes a moment to actually look at the shirt she unknowingly picked out for Paige and barks out a laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

The shirt has "St. John’s – State Champs" written across the chest in bold letters, her old high school’s logo below it.

“Okay, I promise I didn’t mean to pick that one,” Azzi swears, unable to contain her laughter.

“I’on believe you,” Paige grunts, sliding into the empty side of the bed. “You know I’d get beat up if anyone saw me wearin’ this, right?”

“Good thing it’s just me then, huh?”

“Guess so,” Paige grumbles, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

“Don’t worry,” Azzi says, smirking. “Your secret is safe with me, Cadet.”

Paige glares at her before rolling over and turning her back to Azzi. “I’m actually done talkin’ to you. Night.”

Azzi turns her bedside lamp off, encasing the room in darkness, save for a few bands of a dim streetlight poking through her blinds. “Night,” she echoes, settling to lay on her back.

She wills herself to sleep then, waiting for the exhaustion she’s been feeling for the past few hours to finally take over.

It doesn’t come.

It shouldn’t be this difficult.

But Azzi’s mind is racing, all thoughts on her former best friend stretched out beside her. Paige, lying in her childhood bed, clad in one of Azzi’s old basketball T-shirts and a pair of boxers, the warmth radiating from her enough to scorch Azzi’s skin even from half a foot away.

“Hey, P?” Azzi whispers, her gaze still glued to the ceiling.

She sees movement in her periphery, Paige angling her head back slightly in her direction. “Hm?”

Azzi swallows hard, attempting to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.

There’s been one question turning itself over and over in her mind all day. A thought that wouldn’t leave her head no matter how hard she tried to shake it out.

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Did you have a New Year’s kiss this year?” she hears herself ask.

Everything is silent then, and Azzi can’t think of many other times in her life where she’s felt as vulnerable as she does now.

The quietness stretches on for an agonizingly long amount of time. It lasts for so long, in fact, that part of Azzi begins to wonder if Paige might have fallen asleep.

“Nah,” Paige mumbles, breaking the silence. She turns fully back onto her side to face Azzi, resting her hands together underneath her head. Azzi feels her heavy stare piercing through the darkness and shivers. “You?”

Azzi shakes her head, sighs, “Me neither.”

She moves to face Paige, mirroring her position, her heartbeat thumping wildly in her ears.

Azzi wets her lips, locks her eyes onto Paige’s.

Fuck it.

“Did you want to have one?” she breathes out.

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting. Maybe for Paige to shove her playfully or smile at her or something like that.

But Paige brings her bottom lip into her mouth, waits a beat, then nods her head.

Oh.

She wants this, too.

Azzi isn’t sure which of them is leaning in, but suddenly Paige’s face is just inches from her own, her breath warm against Azzi’s lips.

“Are you sure?” Paige whispers.

Am I sure I want this?

Absolutely.

Am I sure we should be doing this?

Well...

Despite her doubts, Azzi swallows and nods her head.

Paige is the one to close the gap between them, hesitant, at first, and gentle, just the soft press of her lips against Azzi’s own. A tentative reunion, two aching souls finally coming back home to each other.

And then the kiss turns needy, hungry, and Paige is bringing a hand up to cup her face, sliding the other down to Azzi’s waist. Azzi does the same, tugs slightly to bring Paige to hover slightly over her. Paige is kissing her hard now, pressing her into the bed, exhaling heavily, making Azzi’s heart flutter uncontrollably.

Azzi makes a decision then, pulls back just slightly and uses her tongue to part Paige’s lips, shivering when she feels Paige sigh against her mouth. The action seems to spur Paige on further because she’s shifting again, slipping her leg in between Azzi’s, applying just a hint of pressure, building up a low heat there.

Paige is relentless, kissing her with such fervor that it makes her head spin. Azzi feels a thumb dip below the waistband of her pants, caressing against her hip, and for some reason that snaps Azzi out of the dizzy haze she's found herself trapped in.

Azzi breaks the kiss, lightheaded, because if she doesn't do it now she thinks they might never stop.

Paige rests their foreheads together for a moment. She leans back, shifts her body off Azzi’s, her pupils blown out and her chest heaving.

“There,” Azzi hears herself say, breath uneven. “Happy New Year.” Then she rolls away from Paige, heartbeat still erratic in her ears, shaking hands pulling the covers back over herself.

She feels the bed shift a minute later as Paige wordlessly turns away from her.

Azzi brings her fingers up to touch her mouth, the sensation still lingering there.

It’s hours before sleep finally finds her.

*****

Azzi wakes to the afternoon sunlight hitting her square in the face, and she pulls a pillow over her head to block it out. Groaning, she blindly sticks an arm out beside her, feeling for a warm body next to her to shake awake.

Her hand comes up empty.

She shoots up in her bed, panic swarming her as she scans across the empty room. Her chest tightens, her throat constricts.

Fuck, she’s gone.

Tears are just starting to prick at the corner of her eyes when the sound of boisterous laughter bounces off the walls of the hallway.

Curious, Azzi follows the sound, finding its source relatively quickly.

The sight is strange enough to raise Azzi’s eyebrows—her dad and Paige, seated on opposite sides of the dining table, laughing over empty breakfast plates.

Paige notices her first, nodding her chin towards her in acknowledgement. “Hey, Az.” She pats the chair next to her. “Sit.”

Azzi doesn’t move, eyes moving skeptically between her dad and Paige. “Hi. What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’,” her dad says, but the snickering between the two of them afterwards is saying something completely different.

“This.” Azzi points a finger back and forth between the two of them. “This I don’t like.”

“C’mon, we’re just messin’,” Paige assures, still grinning devilishly.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Azzi responds sarcastically, opening the fridge door and sticking her head in it, searching for something to settle her rumbling stomach. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Packing, I guess?” Paige replies.

Azzi picks her head up at that and closes the fridge. “Huh, why?”

“Got a flight to Connecticut in the mornin',” Paige shrugs, and Azzi’s heart drops to her stomach.

“You do?” she asks, failing to keep the sadness from creeping into her voice.

Paige looks apologetic, casting her eyes downward. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Forgot to mention it. Speakin’ of, I should head on out soon.” She stands, putting her dishes in the sink before clapping Azzi’s dad on the back. “Good to see you as always, Tim.”

He smiles up at her fondly. “You too, Paige.”

“Imma grab my stuff,” Paige says, brushing past Azzi into the living room. Azzi moves on autopilot, trailing behind her.

It takes Paige all of three seconds to get ready, having only really come here with her phone and the clothes she wore yesterday, which she must have changed back into at some point. Azzi watches her pull her sneakers on, shrug into her jacket.

“Guess this it then,” Paige starts, eyes looking anywhere but at Azzi.

Azzi wrings her hands together, trying to figure out where to go from here. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you around then, P.”

Azzi is going to leave it at that, moving her arms to give Paige a quick hug, but then Paige is grabbing her arm and pulling her in closer, lowering her voice. “Don't we need to talk 'bout somethin'?”

“Last time you said that you broke up with me.” Azzi pries Paige’s fingers off her arm.

Paige bristles at that, rubbing at the back of her neck nervously. “Okay, but still. We need to talk.”

“About?” Azzi asks, even though she already knows where this conversation is going. She looks at Paige expectantly.

“We kissed, Azzi. You don’t think we should talk ‘bout that?” There’s a crease between her eyebrows. “I mean, like, what does it mean, you know?”

There are two ways Azzi can play this. She can be honest, tell Paige that she lost hours of sleep over it, that it’s the only thing she’s thought about since she woke up, that it shifted her world off its axis. Can tell her that all those feelings she tried to push down have risen rapidly back to the surface, demanding all of her attention. Can lay it all out in front of them, knowing it could be months before the next time they see each other again.

And then there’s a second option.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Azzi is saying, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

Maybe it's time for the ball to be in Paige's court now.

Paige shakes her head exaggeratedly, her face screwed up in utter confusion. “It doesn’t?”

“Not unless we want it to,” Azzi continues, making her expression as unreadable as possible.

“Well, do you?”

Azzi hums noncommittally, looking down at her nails. “Probably easier if we just forget about it, right? I mean, it was only one kiss.”

There’s conflict painted clear across Paige’s face, her mouth opening and closing several times like she can’t quite figure out how she’s supposed to respond to that. She bites her lip hard, so hard that Azzi is a little concerned that she’s about to draw blood.

“I—I, uh,” she stutters, and Azzi can’t remember the last time she saw her look this flustered. “No, yeah. For sure. Just a kiss.” She nods her head once, like she’s trying to convince herself.

“Good, I’m glad we agree,” Azzi replies, even if she doesn’t really mean it.

Paige scratches at the back of her neck again, clearly not anticipating the conversation to go like this. “Yeah. So...maybe I’ll see you in March or somethin’?” She offers a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

Azzi shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

*****

She doesn’t.

[mr-hopkins]

Late night cravings 🍜✨

- Lee Heesung Imagine

Synopsis~ A sleepyhead and scruffy Heesung wakes up to his girlfriend craving late night food. Unable to resist her charm, he gives into her request. But he won't back down without getting anything in return. And a kiss sounds promising.

Read more below 👇🏻

The insistent chirping of my phone finally roused Heesung from his slumber. He groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow, but the persistent vibrations continued their assault.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

I giggled, leaning over to peck his cheek. "But baby, I'm craving jjajangmyeon."

Heesung's eyes fluttered open, the grogginess fading slightly at the mention of his favorite late-night snack. "Jjajangmyeon?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

"Yes, please?" I pleaded, batting my eyelashes at him.

Heesung sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Fine, fine. But you owe me a good morning kiss."

I grinned, leaning down to shower his face with kisses. He chuckled, finally giving in and pulling me closer. "Alright, alright, let's get this show on the road."

Heesung, still a little disheveled with sleep-tousled hair and a sleepy smile, looked incredibly endearing. I couldn't resist running a hand through his hair, messing it up further.

"You're so cute when you wake up," I teased, poking his cheek.

He groaned playfully, "Stop teasing me."

We spent the next few minutes discussing our order, debating between jjajangmyeon and jjampong, ultimately deciding on both. Heesung, ever the considerate boyfriend, insisted on ordering extra sides and drinks.

As we waited for our food to arrive, we settled onto the couch, snuggling close. Heesung wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. I breathed in the comforting scent of his cologne, feeling safe and content in his embrace.

"You know," he murmured, his voice a low thrum against my ear, "I'm really lucky to have you."

I smiled, snuggling deeper into his warmth. "Me too, Heesung. You're the best."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss. My heart fluttered, and I leaned into him, eager for more.

Our hands intertwined, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin. The atmosphere was electric, a comfortable silence hanging between us, broken only by the soft ticking of the clock.

Just as I was about to lean in for another kiss, the doorbell rang.

Heesung groaned, pulling back slightly. "Ugh, the food's here."

I giggled, "Don't be such a grump. We can continue this later."

He gave me a quick, passionate kiss, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. "Promise."

I nodded eagerly, my heart pounding. Heesung, ever the gentleman, went to answer the door, returning a few moments later with steaming bags of delicious food.

We spent the next hour enjoying our feast, laughing and talking about our day. As we finished our meal, Heesung leaned back against the couch, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

"That was amazing," he declared, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

I smiled, "I told you."

He looked at me, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know, I think I'm starting to like these late-night cravings."

I leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Me too."

Heesung pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me. "Now," he whispered, his voice husky, "where were we?"

I smiled, my heart fluttering again. "Right here."

And with that, we finally resumed our interrupted embrace, the delicious scent of Chinese food lingering in the air, a testament to a perfect, albeit slightly interrupted, evening.

[marchwardenofmordor]

Since people liked my post about the new Nosferatu film, I’m gonna go a little more in depth about some of the things that REALLY stood out to me

- The sound design of his voice and the blood drinking: a fucking genius choice. Each horrific rattling inhale before he speaks and the way he trails off at the end of his sentences because he’s manually breathing for the EXPRESS PURPOSE OF SPEAKING. That monotone is fucking perfect because he sound like the air is being squeezed out of him with each word. The monstrous gulping and slurping as he drinks blood is great because it sounds equal parts disgusting and sexual.

- I think, as a personification of shame, that he is SUPPOSED to make you want to crawl out of your own skin. The moaning, the nudity, the squelchy sounds… if you went to the cinema to see it, I think the idea was to make you blush and perhaps have a bit of a bodily reaction that would have you glancing around at other people in embarrassment. Not everybody is going to want him, but he will tap into the shame of witnessing something sexual in public. If we take the particular time period the film is set in, too, I think he’s supposed to have us clutching our pearls, making us collectively hearken back to the victorian attitudes towards sex and shame.

- You know what else is great about putting us in that mindset as an audience? It makes us remember that talking about sex and death are still considered shameful and taboo - the Victorian period really wasn’t that long ago, and some aspects of that history still casts its shadow of shame over us. But as ashamed as we are, we’re also curious creatures.

- Sex and death are very closely linked. Again, a little death being a term for an orgasm, the fact that indole is a chemical that both repels and attracts us (the scent is commonly used in perfumery, and in small amounts, smells alluring and seductive, like white florals, or the literal smell of sex, but in large concentrations smells fucking rancid, like rotting bodies). When we die, our brains release a rush of endorphins, etc. Dead bodies have a ‘sweet’ smell before they begin rotting - again, that’s probably indole, and would explain some of the subconscious urges of a necrophiliac.

- He is also called ‘death’ multiple times, and we know that a little fraction of his power is bringing ‘la petit mort’ (a little death / orgasm) to his victims.

- Even rats are symbolic here of sex, death and disease: we know terms like ‘multiplying like rats’ obviously, and how rats are symbolic of the plague (even though it was the fleas that caused it). The presence of the rats and the cries of townsfolk about ‘disease’ and ‘plague’ are less like the actual literal plague, and - considering that Orlok is ‘shame’ - more like a metaphorical miasma sweeping through victorian society, reinforcing ideas of shame and purity and what is or is not proper.

- Bodily fluids!! There are tears, there’s cum, considering the rats (again) there’s excrement (also on the walls of the cell in the asylum??), and with the Renfield-type character there’s also saliva. This isn’t just for shock/horror - the main fluid shown is blood, and in the mindset of a victorian christian (historically, blood transfusions could only really be shared between a man and a woman who were married because blood was a life-giving bodily fluid likened to the life-sowing fluid of semen), the idea of a blood-drinking monster was fucking horrific and blasphemous, sinful beyond measure.

- Orlok’s appearance and the treatment of the G*psies in the town (once more - “bringing shame to this inn!” Likening them to the vampire) is indicative of the xenophobia and prejudice towards Romani Jewish people of the time period, where white victorian christians feared Romani people as being ‘child-stealing’, ‘blood-drinking’ (again, look up Blood Libel) barbarians prone to SA (stereotypes which sadly persist today), but also fetishised them as mystics. (I did my university dissertation on ‘boho’ tattoos, cultural appropriation and the origins of the ‘boho’ aesthetic and why it is just ✨not it✨ but I won’t go into that in depth because my analysis was literally over 5000 words)

- I love that the message at the end was basically ‘the only way to kill your shame is to lay with it, to accept it and love it’ - which is honestly true. If you learn to accept uncomfortable aspects of yourself and face them, they no longer have any sort of power over you.

- The female protagonist is dressed all in white, indicative of her purity and chastity, and it’s interesting to see how her wardrobe gradually darkens throughout the film, showing her becoming quite monstrous herself in one particular scene where she rips open the top of her dress and demands Thomas to ‘take her’, up until the final scene, where she is stark naked and covered in blood. Honestly wicked. I love a good corruption. Her character is so symbolic of the struggle of someone who is deeply repressed and chastised for her desires. Desires which started innocently and then - through suppression in an oppressive society and household (her father discovering her naked and screaming at her for being sinful)- were twisted and given form as something monstrous that literally eats away at her and those around her, because she brings her shame wherever she goes, and in the end, even though she faces it and sets an example, it ultimately kills her to do so.

- Also notice how NOBODY fucking listens to her. And every time nobody listens to her, Orlok grows stronger as she grows angrier and more frustrated. They’re feeding him by ignoring her. It’s sad that they look at her in the end, and deem her ‘sacrifice’ as noble, only really paying attention to her once she is dead, with her shame laying on top of her, crushing her. This is the torment of the Victorian Woman, told that she must deal with her problems alone by the male characters.

Edit: Also because the film is German in origin, I’d recommend looking up the ‘Nachzehrer’ creature - a ghoulish vampire-esque creature that would rise from the grave to drag its victims into death with it through various means, known to devour its own funeral shroud, rendering it naked. Fun fact: it was said that if a corpse was clutching its left thumb in its right hand with the left eye open (I think? It’s been a while since I researched it), it would rise as a Nachzehrer. They are also thought to be able to drain their victim’s life force remotely. The threat was said to be particularly great if the living gave the Nachzehrer a personal affectation - in the case of Orlok, it would be Thomas giving him the locket containing Ellen’s hair.

[cigarettesaftersae]

i'll like you - 06 iykyk

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: reo mikage x f!reader | contains : fluff, angst, jealousy, academic rivals, fake dating

Plotting down your wooden seat, nothing stresses you more than the thought of Yuna, and how her avoidance is extreme to the eye. How were you to cope with the silence that was once filled with Yuna’s joyful laughter? And her smile larger than a rainbow, oh her eyes brighter than the sun. Maybe holding her hand and saying sorry will help? Maybe, but her avoidance is nakedly mean. As if her skin is demonic to your angelic skin. And her skin, demonic, lays in hell with friends, Naomi. “What’s with the gloomy face?” Reo sits across from you, Nagi on his phone playing video games like the usual bum he is. A sigh first leaves your lips, “Nothing”

“What a gloomy response”

“So what” You lay your head down looking off to the side

“It’s such a hassle being gloomy” Nagi’s aloof words carry nothing but annoyance to your ears, really what did you see in him?

“Really? Maybe I should sit around all day and play on phone like ya,” You bark back, still laying down your head

“Play animal crossing, not Minecraft”

“Thanks”

“Come on, let’s go eat. You can’t just strave. If you’re gonna apologize to Yuna, you need food” You lift your head up from your warm arms. You could just lay back in the warmth whilst the cold around you waves by, let dust lay inch by inch on you, even let the bugs bite you. But you lift your head up from your warm arms to see Reo, welcomed with a smile larger than a rainbow. “Fine, but remember you said you’re buying my lunches.”

The thought that Reo’s skin would be alien to you is found untrue. I thank you Reo, forever. I miss you my love

Your appetite didn’t empathize with your belly. Sitting across from the dynamic duo, you lazily fidgeted with a plastic fork, pushing the food around your plate without actually eating. Meanwhile, the sound of gunfire and shouting emanated from Nagi’s phone, his focus entirely absorbed in his game. His own meal sat untouched, abandoned in favor of his screen.

Suddenly, the fork was whisked from your fingers, stolen by a flash of purple hair. Your full attention snapped to Reo, confusion evident on your face. What was he doing?

“Open up, ahh,” Reo said, his tone playfully insistent as he held the fork out toward you, a morsel of food perched at its tip.

“I can feed myself,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

“But you aren’t,” he countered smoothly. “Eat. I did pay for it, after all.”

You hesitated, torn between annoyance and the strange warmth of his persistent kindness. Eventually, with a soft sigh, you relented, opening your mouth and swallowing the food he offered. His smug grin didn’t go unnoticed, but you chose to ignore it.

“So,” you began cautiously, your gaze dropping back to your plate, “when are we announcing… us to the school?”

“It’s only been a week since all the commotion,” Reo said thoughtfully, leaning back slightly. “Today might be a good chance.”

“Yeah… I agree,” you murmured, straightening your posture. You straighten your back, being gloomy wasn’t ever your identify. Even so, why did Reo’s presence carry blessings to you? Something you can’t answer, so you leave it to the absence of Yuna.

“You should meet my mom formally, then,” you said suddenly.

“Already?” Reo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. We have to start with her. She’s a bit of a… yapper, so news will travel fast, and she’s my mom she knows everything” you explained. “Unless you have practice?”

“I can come after practice,” Reo replied quickly, his eagerness catching you off guard. “It’ll be shorter today.”

“Alright, then I’ll wait on the bleachers,” you said nonchalantly.

“You’re going to watch me practice?” Reo asked, his lips curling into a teasing smirk.

“I’ll be recording you to make fun of you with my mom,” you quipped, matching his smirk.

Reo chuckled, leaning closer. “Maybe you’ll be impressed instead of making fun of me. Especially with Nagi—he has mad skills.”

“All he does is play video games,” you deadpanned.

“She’s right,” Nagi chimed in without looking up from his phone, his voice as flat as ever.

Reo groaned, shaking his head in mock defeat. “No faith in me, huh?”

“Guess we’ll have to see.” You shrugged

“Choo choo train”

“Give me back my fork—”

“Nope, I’ll be feeding you now on”

Once stepped inside the classroom Mira encounters you, she’s been a trustworthy friend for the past few days. Maybe it was her cool charisma, or the assuring little light her eyes give. She’s the girl you’d believe your mom might’ve been in her prime days. Trustworthy yes, but quite the chatter box in terms of much secretive stuff. Something you truly didn’t mind till fallout with Yuna.

“Oh, hey Mira,” With smile you welcome her back

“Hey,” she replied, her voice carrying an edge of concern. “Came to check up on you... with everything that’s been going on.”

You glanced away, “Oh thanks. I’ve been okay.”

“I noticed you’ve been hanging out with the Mikage kid. And Nagi too,” she added, her tone bordering on curious.

“Yeah, uh, I guess we’re kinda friends now,” you admitted, scratching the back of

your neck.

Mira tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You still like Mikage?”

“Huh—oh, right, I—” you stammered, feeling heat creep up your neck.

“We’re together, actually. Isn’t that right, my love?”

The sudden, confident voice from behind made you freeze. You turned to find Reo standing there, his signature smirk firmly in place. Arm wrapped around your shoulder, his unexpected declaration sent a jolt of shock through you, followed by a fluttering you weren’t quite ready to name. Butterflies? No. Definitely not.

This was supposed to happen tomorrow. Why was he announcing it now?

Your bewilderment mirrored the wide-eyed stares of your classmates. Every single gaze was fixed on the two of you, their curiosity palpable. Mira’s jaw had practically dropped, and you could almost hear her thoughts racing.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Nagi, already seated and unbothered, tapping away at his phone. Of course, he knew. Nothing phased him, it seemed.

“Oh— Reo, we weren’t supposed to tell anyone till tomorrow” You portray a romantic act back to Reo. You almost spit out a darling, but that’ll make you two sound old.

“Ahh what’s the difference, today, tomorrow? I’ll still be with you”

A collective “aww” rippled through the classroom at his words, and you could only force a wide, fixed smile until the teacher finally walked in, cutting the moment short.

“Alright, back to your seats. Mikage,” the teacher said, his tone exasperated as he gestured for Reo to move.

“Mmm, could we change seats, perhaps?” Reo replied, his tone light but entirely too smug.

“What—just go back to your seat,” you hissed under your breath, trying to push him away. But Reo simply grinned at you, that flashy smile stopping your protest in its tracks.

Turning back to the teacher, Reo asked, “Don’t you think a change would do us all some good?”

“Don’t cause such a commotion, Mikage. Just sit down,” the teacher sighed.

But Reo wasn’t done. With a confident stride, he leaned in and whispered something to the teacher. The whole class watched, captivated, as you buried your face in your hands. You didn’t need to hear to know what was happening—common sense told you Reo was baiting the teacher with his signature move: dirty money.

The teacher sighed heavily, his resolve crumbling. “Alright, I suppose it’s been a while since we had a seating change. Choose wherever you’d like.”

Cheers erupted around the room, and you groaned internally as Reo pulled out the chair right next to yours, sliding into it with a triumphant smile.

“Looks like we’re seatmates now,” he said, settling in as though it had always been his spot.

You deadpanned at him, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lucky me.”

At natural instincts, you look around for Yuna, her seat dripped behind Naomi. You weren’t jealous no, anger no, hurt? Yes. Out of all people Yuna could’ve look forward to, it was a two-face bitch. Given the situation though, you couldn’t do anything now. And you only have yourself to blame.

You clicked the stop button on your phone, ending the recording of Reo’s practice. You had been hoping to capture something embarrassing—maybe a fumbled kick or an awkward stumble—but, to your dismay, Reo had been good. Annoyingly good. A part of you hated to admit it, but watching him out there had been... a little impressive.

As the team wrapped up, Reo walked over to you, his strides confident, his skin glistening with sweat. He lifted his shirt to wipe his face, casually revealing a well-defined body. You caught yourself staring a second too long before quickly looking away, but not before he noticed.

“Got a little drool here,” he teased, pointing to the corner of his mouth with a smirk.

“Maybe it’s from your contagious sweat,” you shot back, scrunching your nose as if the thought disgusted you.

Reo laughed, leaning on the railing of the bleachers as he tilted his head to meet your gaze. “Contagious, huh? Must be powerful if it’s got you zoning out like that.”

“Please,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you stuffed your phone into your bag. “I was trying to figure out how someone as flashy as you managed to survive on a team sport.”

“Flashy and effective,” he countered, flashing you a grin that could rival the sun. “You got it all on video, didn’t you?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, standing up to leave. “Don’t worry, I’ll find something to make fun of later.”

Reo grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, falling into step beside you. “Keep dreaming. I’m flawless on and off the field.”

You rolled your eyes again, but a small, unbidden smile tugged at your lips. “Sure, Mikage. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Let me hit the showers and we’ll head off.”

Walking side by side with Reo, you couldn’t help but feel like this whole charade was something out of a cheesy rom-com. Off to introduce your new boyfriend to your mom—how wonderful this would sound to her. As you approached the gates of your house, your attention was drawn to a small, neatly wrapped box resting on the porch. Its delicate ribbon and meticulous presentation made it stand out.

“Huh… We didn’t have any deliveries scheduled,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes at the unexpected package.

“I ordered that,” Reo chimed in casually, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

You turned to him, confused. “You ordered something? For who?”

“For your mom,” he said with a proud smile.

You stared at him, half-suspicious and half-exasperated. “Ordered? What is it? A bomb?”

Reo rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by your dramatics. “No, silly, it’s a necklace.”

“A necklace. How much exactly?”

Reo let out a slightly nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… $7,000. I wanted to make sure I made a good first impression. Oh, and I threw in a coupon for jewelry at Mikage Corporation—plus a discount on another necklace. It'll bring it down from 1000 to 300 or less.”

“Reo!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of shock and exasperation.

“What?!” he shot back defensively.

“It’s a first impression for my fake boyfriend! And she already knows who you are! Seven thousand—are you kidding me?”

Reo’s eyes widened, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and indignation. “Okay, but—she doesn’t know me like that. First impressions are important, you know! Oh I also order in so diamond rings for her, a side of chocolate from one the most expensive brands out there”

“No,” you said flatly, shoving the box with the lavish necklace back into his hands.

Reo scrunched his eyebrows, pouting like a child denied candy. “Why not?”

“My mom and I buy from garage sales, not Pandora or wherever you shop,” you replied, your tone sharp but truthful.

Reo opened his mouth, probably ready with another dramatic rebuttal, but before he could speak, the front door swung open. There stood your mom, her curious eyes flickering between the two of you.

“O-oh, hey, Mom!” you stammered, nervousness bubbling up as you attempted a casual smile. “This is, uh—”

“I’m Reo Mikage,” Reo interrupted, stepping forward with a dazzling smile. He gave her a respectful bow, oozing politeness.

Your mom squinted at him, a thoughtful expression spreading across her face. “I think I’ve heard of you before…”

Reo’s smile brightened, his confidence soaring. “You have?” he asked eagerly, clearly relishing the recognition.

You chime in “Probably on the news or something.”

“No, I don’t watch the news.” She waved dismissively, her gaze shifting toward you, her grin widening. “It was from my daughter. She talks about you a lot.”

Your heart dropped, panic flashing across your face. “Then that must’ve been the news I was talking about!” you blurted out, desperate to redirect the conversation.

Your mom’s teasing smirk said it all—she wasn’t buying it. You knew deep down that she was playing with you, using every little thing you’d vented about to her over the months. Maybe spilling all your frustrations about Reo to her hadn’t been the smartest move after all.

“Well come in, come in.”

Once settled down in your living room, the warm tea in your hands worked wonders, its calming aroma and heat dissolving some of the tension that had built up. Across the modest wooden coffee table, your mom sat with an amused smile, her sharp eyes darting between you and Reo. Meanwhile, Reo’s tall frame seemed almost too large for your cozy living room. His long legs were tucked awkwardly, his usual self-assured aura slightly muted in the presence of your mom.

The conversation was light at first—updates on your mom’s hobbies, her garden, and her recent bargain finds at garage sales. But you were careful, very careful, to steer away from mentioning the true nature of your and Reo’s relationship.

“So,” your mom began, her tone casual but with an unmistakable edge of curiosity, “how did you two meet?”

You froze slightly, gripping your cup just a bit tighter. Reo, ever the smooth talker, leaned forward with a charming smile. “We actually met through some mutual friends. It wasn’t anything planned, but, well, sometimes things just work out perfectly.”

Your mom raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but entertained. “Perfectly, huh? You’ve got some stories to share, I bet.”

“Oh, plenty,” Reo said with a soft laugh. “But most of them make me look bad, so I’ll save those for another day.”

You glanced at him, your eyes silently pleading for him not to overdo it. Reo seemed to sense it, his hand brushing against yours briefly on the couch as if to reassure you.

“Well,” your mom said, her tone shifting to something more teasing, “you seem to get along pretty well. Must be serious if you’re bringing him home, sweetheart.”

You let out a nervous laugh, feeling the tea in your stomach churn slightly. “Mom, it’s not—”

“She’s been great,” Reo interrupted smoothly, cutting off your attempt to defuse the situation. “Honestly, I’m really lucky.”

Your gaze lingered on him, his profile seemingly untouched by nerves or uncertainty. The casual confidence in his tone and the soft smile playing on his lips—it was so natural, almost too convincing.

Was it just part of the charade? Or did he mean it?

You swallowed, your thoughts racing. Maybe he was just playing his part perfectly. After all, Reo Mikage was nothing if not composed under pressure. But the way his eyes flickered toward you as he spoke, softening for just a fraction of a second—it felt... real.

Your mom’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Well, if you’re lucky, then I hope you’re not taking that for granted.” Her sharp tone cut through the moment, her teasing grin making it clear she wasn’t letting him off easy.

“Of course not,” Reo said smoothly, turning his full attention to her. “I wouldn’t dare. I know how special she is.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Whether it was rehearsed or genuine, the sincerity in his words was enough to make your cheeks warm.

Your mom chuckled, clearly amused by his quick responses. “Alright, Mr. Smooth Talker. You’ve passed the first round. Let’s see how you hold up for the rest of the visit.”

Reo grinned, undeterred. “I’ll do my best.”

You looked away, trying to focus on anything but him. Your thoughts were betraying you, stirring emotions you hadn’t anticipated. If he was this convincing, how much of it was an act? And more importantly—how much of you was starting to hope it wasn’t?

.

.

.

[pinkkop]

Best BLs of 2024

To my surprise, it appears that we've entered 2025, so before I give myself over to the new year I wanted to share my 15 favourite BLs of 2024 in no particular order. Here we go!!!

🇹🇼 The On1y One

This show came complete out of left field and absolutely blew me away! The slow burn was just so delicious which I actually think is a pretty hard thing to do but with acting this good and a great production quality, it did not ever get too slow or too boring. I just wish they would get a second season because, as I've talked about before, I'm convinced the creators intended for this to be just the first season. I'm still holding out hope for a second season but I do worry that since we haven't heard anything concrete yet that we might not get one.

🇰🇷 The Time of Fever

I already knew this was going to be good since I loved these two in Unintentional Love Story. This is actually very similar to The On1e One and did it just as well but with a slightly different approach. The yearning was palpable in the best way possible!

It's such a pity that it seems like the Korean BL market is struggling right now but this show was no disappointment. Would love a sequel to Unintentional Love Story now because I need to see these two finally get their shit together.

🇹🇼 Unknown

Taiwan does gray area stories so well and this was a perfect example. It was so delicious to witness Yuan just love and yearn for Qian and just get stronger and stronger in the conviction that he was made for loving Qian. I'm also just weak for a character who doesn't think much of themselves and don't believe they deserve to be loved like their romantic interest wants to and then for them to finally cave to the persistence of their romantic partner. Could watch a trillion of those types of pairings and this show was a really good take on the trope.

🇰🇷 Love for Love's Sake

This was an odd one but I really liked the concept. The acting, plot and production was really good and I liked how this added something fresh. It's a similar type of pairing as Unknown so again this was right up my alley. One of these days I should look at all my favourite shows and see how often this dynamic pops up because I bet it's a lot. 

🇹🇭 Cherry Magic th

Is this the same type of pairing as both Unknown and Love For Love's Sake?!  You bet it is!!!

Tay and New were just so good in this. I loved that they're both actual dorks but Karan is just better at hiding it so Ashi believed Karan was better than him. In reality they were just the same and perfect for each other. Also I just absolutely love this version of Karan because, as I said before, he' was's such a dork and hearing his inner thoughts through Ashi's powers was such a highlight of this show. Favourite scene was in the bus when Ashi leaned on Karan's shoulder and you just heard Karan's internal screaming. Such a mood!! It just made Karan so much more down to earth and I think Ashi and Karan are one of the few BL pairings where I can imagine them being together for the rest of their lives because they'd be both best friends and lovers.

I did struggle with the Pai character because she was such a good female character and representation of the struggles a lot of woman have. I so badly wanted her to stay single and happy on her own and it felt unnecessary to pair her with Rock. Even more so because her Japanese counter part was actually asexual so I would have loved for Pai to have a similar story line.

🇯🇵 25 Ji, Akasaka de

Just so much pining!!! And another character feeling unworthy of their romantic interest but I feel like this was slightly different, more in an idolizing way and Japan does that really well. 

🇨🇳 Blue Canvas of Youthful Days

This was such a raw feeling show and s big surprise coming out of China. It felt real and raw without feeling like it was low quality. I loved both pairings so much and maybe I'm a masochist but I loved having my heart broken every week.

It didn't quite stick the landing but honestly, with it being China, I'm not surprised the ending got muddled and famously I don't mind when a show doesn't stick it's landing (See my love of HIStory3: Make Our Days Count). It's still worth watching so much and I will definitely watch it again myself. 

🇹🇭 Every You, Every Me

I already enjoyed Top and Mick in their segment of My Universe so I was very excited for this one. This was also a nice surprise because I was just expecting another anthology show but the way they connected the couples was really clever. The ending was a little weak but again here, I didn't think it really hurt the show too much, it just meant this is a good show that could have been even more amazing.

I feel like Top and Mick really proved themselves in this and I really hope that we get more of them. They're a rare pairing that don't visually have a clear top/bottom dynamic while also being good enough actors to be able to both pull of playing both roles.

🇹🇭 I Saw You in My Dream

This was a cute little show and I was happily surprised that they pulled off the more ambitious concept of the prophetic dreams. Both couples were really great and I had such a good time watching along. 

🇨🇳 Meet You at the Blossom

Finally a Wuxia BL from China, by the help of Thailand and Taiwan. This was all I wanted it to be and I can't wait to see how these actors do going forward with them being Chinese and all. I hope we get more Wuxia BLs because this was soooo much fun. I loved both main and secondary characters and pairings and the plot was just the right amount of unhinged.

🇹🇭 We Are

I was worried about this show having so many couples and episodes but I loved how they intertwined and balanced the pairings and gave us a show which was engaging and interesting all the way through.

I love me some found family and all the pairings were great in their own ways. I did particularly love Peem and Phum. It's the hurt character with walls so high all over again (adds another tally to the count). To be honest PhumPeem are still rotating in my mind to this day which I think is a testament to how well this show was executed.

🇹🇭 Spare Me Your Mercy

This was such an engaging watch and it was so cool to get another BL which was really a romance second and another genre first. The crime and mystery of this show was really great and the production quality fit really well. I talked in this post about it struggling with only having 8 episodes which I wholeheartedly think is most of the reason why this show is just good and not absolutely amazing. 

🇯🇵 Takara no Vidro

Another little gem of a show with characters who are perfect for each other but don't believe they're worthy of the other person. Japan does this really well so this was a success. 

🇹🇭 Pit Babe

This was a wild ride with a wild plot and concept but it committed to the bit and made me really invested in the characters and made it easy to get on board with the ABO dynamic of this show and what it meant for the plot.  

🇰🇷 Love in the Big City

This was a top tier QL! It's one of those BLs that are really more about the realities of being queer than the romance which is when a ton of people pop out of the woodwoork to debate whether this is a BL or Queer Media™ as if the latter is inherently better than the first, which is a ridiculous sentiment. Sure, if you don't want to call this a BL because the focus is much more on the realities of being Queer in South Korea then I'm not going to burn you at the stake but don't make this out to be better than BL as a whole. BL is Queer Media and not inherently worse or better than other queer media, especially the kind that don't focus on romance. Anyways, a small tangent.

This show is great and well worth a watch. I don't know if I'll ever watch it again personally because it just left me feeling so raw and too seen. 

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Feel like making people miserable today. Anyways, here's Gon experiencing like. Textbook symptoms of trauma in the CAA, in case there was any lingering doubt about this or anything:

Initial denial that the experience happened or was traumatic

[ID: A screenshot from episode 85 of HxH 2011. Gon, eyes bright and with a smile, says "Kite is alive!" End ID.]

Flashbacks

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 95, and a third from episode 110. In the first, Kite's arm is shown in the foreground, bleeding and blurred. In the second, a close of Pitou's wide eyes, looking animalistic. In the last, puppet Kite's mangled and scarred face stares emptily ahead - the scene is greyed out. End ID.]

Intense distress at real or symbolic reminders of the trauma

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 116. In the first, Gon's fist can be seen in the foreground, with Pitou shielding an unconscious Komugi just barely seen. The narrator says "The girl lying before them brought back". In the second, Komugi has a medical respirator on. The narrator continues "images of a broken Kite to Gon's mind". End ID.]

Physical sensations such as pain, sweating, nausea or trembling

[ID: A screenshot from episode 116. Gon's fists slam into the ground as he says "That isn't fair...". Sweat drips down his arms. End ID.]

Extreme alertness/hypervigilance

[ID: A screenshot from episode 116. Part of Pitou can be seen in the foreground as Gon stares at them intensely, crouched on the ground with his arm resting on his knee, obscuring his lower face. End ID.]

Angry outbursts or other extreme behaviour

[ID: Two screenshots, one from episode 116, and the other from episode 127. In the first, Gon shouts "Is something wrong with you?!" as his face contorts with rage. His aura floats black around him. In the second, Gon, his face shadowed eerily with thin lines, says "The next time you try to delay me, I'll kill her." End ID.]

Feeling like you have to keep busy

[ID: A screenshot from episode 94. A close up of Gon's face from the side as he says "I want to focus on my training." End ID.]

Doing things that are reckless and self-destructive

[ID: Three screenshots, one from episode 95 and the other two from episode 131. The first is stylized as a black outline of Gon's figure over a background like parchment or a projector - he's been hit in the face and sent to the right from the force of the blow. The second is a close up of Gon's face, almost completely shadowed, with intense and vacant eyes - he says "I don't care". The third continues with a close up of his eye filling with darkness - "if this is the end..." End ID.]

Feeling like nobody understands ("since it means nothing to you")

[ID: A screenshot from episode 116. In a whitish-room with a crack on the wall between them, Gon stands ahead of Killua, facing away from him. They are both in shadow. End ID.]

Ignoring offers of help and shutting out loved ones... poor Killua :(

[ID: A screenshot from episode 136. A spotlight on both Killua, in the foreground, and Gon, walking away from him in the background. Killua thinks "I wanted you to ask for my help in defeating Pitou!" End ID.]

Self-loathing, self-punishment, and lack of self regard

[ID: Three screenshots, two from episode 110 and the third from episode 131. The first is a close up of Gon's face over Morel asking "When would you try to hurt yourself?" The second is a continuation. Morel looks down at Gon who is facing away from the camera as Gon replies "When I couldn't forgive myself." In the last, adult Gon, staring ahead, is animated in black and white with the only colour being the blood from the stump of his right arm. His left hand grips his shoulder. End ID.]

Blaming yourself for what happened

[ID: Two screenshots, one from episode 95 and the other from episode 130. In the first, Gon hugs puppet Kite around his waist. In the second, Gon stares blankly ahead with tears streaming down his face as he thinks "I killed Kite." End ID.]

Overwhelming feelings of anger, sadness, guilt, and shame

[donut-entendre]

why are you starving your farmer's son to death. feed him

[runawaymun]

this is your reminder that sometimes evil phone calls are necessary to fix problems because stuff is genuinely human error which AI answering machines and phone apps don't know how to fix. Pain and suffering on planet earth. ✌️

[lanternlightss]

loop ….

[thedrotter]

a once in a lifetime miracle: oc art!! this is Shiva.

doodles from a month or so, but i cant really draw properly right now. but i wanted to do something meanwhile so i colored these :33

[floral-hex]

Thinking about this time last year when life was rough. mom was sick. had a breakdown at the hospital and walked around the parking garage for an hour thinking about throwing myself off.

Today was good. slept in. Chinese food with the family. Everyone is happy. Probably the happiest birthday I’ve had in years. Thankful for medication. Thankful for my family. for my new kitten and for noodles and pistachio pudding and coffee. going to see Sonic 3 in an hour. Nosferatu in the morning.

Despite everything, happy to be alive.

[megumi-fm]

.

[not-equippedforthis]

staring at the page of notes i need to consume for the mock exam tomorrow and i just cannot. be assed.

[meatheadmutt]

why am i having to hold a gun to googles head to show me articles on the long term effects of hormonal birth control on the endocrine system in adult patients who began usage as a teenager

[ranvwoop]

i try to avoid my acc being Just vntposting . in this world. but man is it going