#and its like. damn me too!! I DID THAT!!!!!
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shoresoftheshadowlands · 3 days ago
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For me this is part of my aversion to small-talk and verbal chatting. If its in text, I can usually glance back right away at what was said. When its verbal, I have to struggle so hard and I get headaches quickly trying to hold everything together. It isn't anything against anyone trying to talk to me, it's just I cannot follow it, especially if people are talking too slow, or being too roundabout on what they're trying to convey, which I know is part of the art of small talk. I know its an important skill to have, but damn, it sucks.
It's even worse when it isn't small talk but some kind of lecture I'm getting for some reason, especially when it's complete BS (I live in a household of far rights, if you know you know), or if it's something that is a non issue that, for some reason 'today', it is suddenly their problem (For example, I organize the space behind my desk in a way that works for ME. It is in MY room which I pay rent for. It may look disorganized at first glance but isn't actually messy. Got a lecture today about how I must clean up and organize and so on because partner is coming to visit.
And I basically just said 'Look, this is organized in a way that works for me,' (I did not bother trying to explain how or why it does because it wouldn't matter in the long run trust me) and I explained that anything that does need tidying up I've already begun working on (Which she did not notice whatsoever, and instead got on my ass about 'all the dishes and stuff' which are clean, or was a take out container I'd only just been using moments prior to her walking in so it wasn't like it was sitting here moldy) Queue the 'Well I know you love me but I am beginning to suspect you don't like me very much!' because I am short and to the point and we've done this dance countless times and I'm so tired. I say 'While I'm gone please DO NOT DECORATE MY ROOM FOR ME.'
I come home. Wow, looks like my room is decorated! And there's nick-nacks and shit in place of where my things need to go! Great! I hate it! Exactly what I asked you not to do! COOL! I'm so glad you value your 37 year old disabled adult child's wishes and boundaries!
But even trying to maintain a conversation about it, verbally because her reading comprehension is shit and she doesn't understand what I'm saying even when I write it down very clearly, we are always at an impass of 'wow this lecture is going on for so long I don't even know how we started' or 'nod and agree, it will be over sooner'
the curse of adhd:
i will remember with absolute clarity, when the thought strikes me that i have a text to send someone, that this is the fourth time in three days i've attempted to send this specific text
i will forget, in the time it takes me to pick up my phone, that i picked it up intending to send a text
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artuurle · 12 hours ago
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because today has been a Bizzyboy kick for me i decided to sketch my hcs about the height and builds of these guys. who knows if i draw them like this again or iterate upon the designs though.
Also calling out how horribly I dressed Grujaja. theres a reason i did it but its still foul XC
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amkyor · 2 days ago
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hi!! is there any possibility for you to do the opposite of the mha guys getting slapped? like the boys accidentally hurt the reader when arguing, whether it be slamming a door and their hand gets caught orrr a shove that was a little too strong ya know? you obv dont have to but if you did, the same guys in the original one would be perfect!
MHA GUYS REACT TO...
READER GETTING HURT WHILE ARGUING ᡣ𐭩
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Katsuki Bakugo ᡣ𐭩
The sound of the iron sizzling as it glided over fabric filled the small apartment.
You stood by the ironing board, focused on smoothing out the creases in one of Bakugo’s button-up shirts.
The room was warm, and the tension was palpable. The argument between you and Bakugo had started as a simple disagreement but quickly escalated into a heated exchange.
“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” you snapped, your voice cutting through the hum of the iron.
Bakugo stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his signature scowl etched deep on his face.
“I’m stubborn? You’re the one who never listens!” he shot back, his tone sharp and defensive.
You glared at him, the iron in your hand moving a little faster than before.
The argument continued, words flying back and forth. Neither of you were willing to back down, each too caught up in your emotions to see the situation clearly.
“I don’t understand why you have to make everything so damn difficult!” Bakugo growled, throwing his hands up in frustration.
“I’m making things difficult? You’re impossible!” You fired back, your voice rising.
In your frustration, you weren’t paying attention to the iron. As you adjusted the shirt on the board, your hand slipped, and the edge of the hot iron made contact with your skin.
A sharp, searing pain shot through your hand, and you let out a yelp, dropping the iron onto the board.
“Shit!” You cried, cradling your hand.
Bakugo’s eyes widened, and the anger in his face was instantly replaced with concern.
He crossed the room in two strides, his hands reaching for yours. “What the hell happened?” he demanded, his voice laced with worry.
“I burned myself,” you hissed through clenched teeth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
The pain was sharp and intense, and you could already see the angry red mark forming on your skin.
“Let me see,” Bakugo said, his tone softer now. He gently took your hand in his, inspecting the burn. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as they brushed over your skin.
“It’s not that bad,” you mumbled, trying to downplay the situation despite the pain.
“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped, though there was no heat in his words. “Stay here.”
Bakugo disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bowl of cool water and a clean towel.
He carefully guided you to sit down on the bed, setting the bowl on the bedside table.
Without saying a word, he dipped the towel in the water and gently pressed it against the burn on your hand.
“Hold this,” he instructed, his voice gruff but steady. You obeyed, wincing slightly as the cool towel soothed the searing pain.
Bakugo crouched in front of you, his crimson eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort.
His concern was evident, though he tried to mask it with his usual tough demeanor.
“You need to be more careful,” he muttered, his gaze flicking down to your hand. “What were you thinking, waving that damn thing around while yelling at me?”
You shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual intensity. “I wasn’t waving it around. I was ironing your shirt, remember? The one you claimed I ruined in the first place.”
He sighed, running a hand through his spiky blond hair. “Yeah, well… maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I was pissed.”
You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his admission. “Was that... an apology?”
“Don’t push it,” he grumbled, though the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.
You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh despite the lingering pain. “You’re impossible, Katsuki.”
“And you’re reckless,” he shot back, but his tone was softer now. He stood up and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a small first-aid kit.
Sitting beside you on the bed, he opened the kit and pulled out a tube of burn ointment.
“This is gonna sting a little,” he warned, taking your hand in his. His touch was careful, almost hesitant, as he applied the ointment to the burn.
His thumb brushed against your uninjured skin, his movements uncharacteristically tender.
You watched him in silence, your earlier anger fading away. It was moments like these that reminded you of how deeply he cared, even if he had a strange way of showing it.
“Thanks,” you said softly, breaking the silence.
He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t be stupid next time.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. “I’ll try. But maybe you could help by not being so infuriating all the time.”
“Tch. You’re one to talk,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his words.
After wrapping a loose bandage around your hand, his shoulders relaxed as he leaned back against the bed, supporting himself with his palms.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a comfortable silence.
Bakugo turned his head to look at you, his fiery red eyes softer than usual.
“Sorry, by the way,” he said quietly, almost as if the words pained him to say. “For snapping at you earlier.”
Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Wow. Two apologies in one day? Who are you, and what have you done with Katsuki Bakugo?”
“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled, looking away to hide the faint blush creeping up his cheeks.
You laughed, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. “I’ll take what I can get.”
He didn’t push you away. Instead, he reached over with his unoccupied hand and rested it lightly on your knee, a subtle gesture of reassurance.
As the two of you sat there, the earlier argument felt like a distant memory.
Bakugo might have been rough around the edges, but moments like these reminded you why you loved him—and why, no matter how heated things got, you’d always find your way back to each other.
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Shoto Todoroki ᡣ𐭩
The kitchen was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of a knife slicing through strawberries.
You stood at the counter, focused on your task, carefully cutting the fruit into even pieces. The tension in the air was thick, a result of the argument that had been brewing for the past twenty minutes.
Shoto leaned against the opposite counter, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.
His heterochromatic eyes were sharp, and his usually calm demeanor was laced with irritation.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just listen to reason,” he said, his voice steady but cold.
You didn’t look up, your hands working methodically.
“And I don’t understand why you always have to be so detached about everything,” you shot back, frustration creeping into your tone.
“I’m not detached. I’m just trying to be logical,” he replied, his gaze unwavering.
“Logical doesn’t always mean right, Shoto,” you said, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “Sometimes, emotions matter too.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying they don’t. But this isn’t about emotions. It’s about—”
“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “Don’t dismiss how I feel. You always do that.”
His expression faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “I’m not dismissing you. I’m trying to have a conversation, but you’re being unreasonable.”
The words stung, and in your frustration, your grip on the knife tightened.
Your hand slipped, and before you realized what had happened, the blade nicked your finger.
“Ah!” You yelped, dropping the knife onto the cutting board and clutching your hand.
Blood welled up from the cut, and the pain was sharp and immediate.
Shoto’s eyes widened, the irritation in his expression instantly replaced with concern.
He was at your side in a heartbeat, his movements swift and precise.
“Let me see,” he said, reaching for your hand.
“It’s fine,” you muttered, trying to pull away, but he gently but firmly held your wrist.
“It’s not fine,” he said, his voice softer now. His thumb brushed against your uninjured fingers as he inspected the cut. “You’re bleeding.”
He guided you to the sink, turning on the faucet and holding your hand under the cool water.
The silence between you was heavy, but it wasn’t the same tense silence as before. This one was filled with unspoken worry and regret.
“You need to be more careful,” he said quietly, his eyes focused on your hand.
You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it? We wouldn’t even be in this situation if we weren’t arguing.”
He didn’t respond immediately, but you saw his jaw tighten. After a moment, he turned off the water and reached for a clean towel, wrapping it around your hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden apology. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, meeting your gaze. “I shouldn’t have dismissed your feelings. You were right.”
The sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten. You looked up at him for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed.
You hesitated for a moment before looking away from his strong gaze. “I… I’m sorry too,” you said softly. “I shouldn’t have let my frustration get the better of me.”
He nodded, his expression softening. “Let me bandage this properly.”
Without waiting for your response, he led you to the bathroom, where he carefully cleaned and dressed the wound.
His touch was gentle, and the concentration on his face reminded you of why you loved him—his quiet care, his attention to detail.
When he was done, he looked at you, his eyes filled with something unspoken. “I hate seeing you hurt,” he admitted.
You smiled faintly, reaching up to cup his cheek with your uninjured hand. “And I hate fighting with you.”
He leaned into your touch, his hand covering yours. “Let’s try to handle things better next time. No more strawberries during arguments.”
You laughed softly, the tension finally breaking. “Deal.”
He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Come on. Let’s finish making those strawberries together.”
And just like that, the kitchen felt a little warmer, and the argument felt like a distant memory.
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Izuku Midoriya ᡣ𐭩
Izuku Midoriya stood in the middle of the kitchen, his arms crossed, and his expression was unusually tense.
The air between you was thick with frustration, the kind of tension that turned casual conversations into heated arguments.
“I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me,” Izuku said, his voice louder than it usually was.
“You shouldn’t have to handle things on your own when I’m right here!”
You sighed, turning away from him as you wiped down the counter, trying to keep your focus on the task at hand. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, Izuku. I didn’t want to worry you over something so small.”
“Small?” he repeated, his green eyes wide and incredulous. “You were stressed out, overworking yourself, and you didn’t think I needed to know?”
You glanced at him, your jaw tight. “I was handling it just fine. Not everything needs to be a team effort, okay? I’m allowed to deal with things on my own sometimes.”
Izuku’s fists clenched at his sides, but he took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady himself.
“But we’re a team. That’s the point of being together, isn’t it? Supporting each other?”
You could feel your own temper rising, and you turned toward the fridge, needing a moment to compose yourself. “I’m not saying we’re not a team, Izuku. I’m just saying I didn’t need help with this.”
Your words hung in the air as you opened the fridge, reaching in for a carton of eggs to finish preparing dinner.
The argument still buzzed in the back of your mind, and your movements were quicker and less careful than usual.
As you grabbed the eggs and swung the fridge door shut, your finger got caught between the heavy door and its frame.
A sharp, searing pain shot through your hand, and you yelped, dropping the carton of eggs onto the floor.
The sound of the eggs cracking was muffled by your hiss of pain, and you instinctively clutched your injured hand, tears springing to your eyes.
“Ah, crap!” you muttered, trying to shake off the pain.
Izuku was at your side in an instant, his earlier frustration completely replaced by concern. “Are you okay? Let me see!”
“It’s fine, Izuku,” you said, wincing as you tried to wave him off.
“It’s not fine,” he insisted gently but firmly taking your hand.
His fingers were warm and careful as he inspected the injury. The skin around your finger was already red and swelling slightly.
“Why were you moving so fast?” he asked, his tone softer but still laced with worry.
“Because we were arguing, and I wasn’t paying attention,” you admitted, feeling a pang of guilt as you looked at the mess of broken eggs on the floor.
Izuku sighed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand. “This is exactly what I mean. You don’t have to keep everything bottled up and push yourself like this.”
You glanced up at him, his emerald eyes filled with concern and just a hint of exasperation. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know,” he interrupted gently. “I know you didn’t mean to. But I hate seeing you like this—hurt, stressed, or trying to carry everything on your own. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to us.”
His words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I just didn’t want to add to your plate.”
Izuku shook his head, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s what I’m here for—to share the plate. Even if it’s overflowing, it’s better than you carrying it all by yourself.”
You managed a small laugh despite the lingering ache in your hand. “You and your metaphors.”
He smiled wider, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles. “Come on. Let’s clean up this mess and get some ice on your finger.”
Together, you cleaned up the broken eggs, Izuku insisting on doing most of the work while you held your injured hand under cool running water.
When the floor was spotless again, he led you to the couch, sat you down, and disappeared into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen peas to use as an ice pack.
When he returned, he crouched in front of you, carefully placing the makeshift ice pack against your finger. “There. Keep this on for a while, okay?”
You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you, Izuku. For everything.”
He looked up at you, his eyes soft. “Always.”
As he sat beside you, one arm slipping around your shoulders, the argument felt like a distant memory.
The only thing that mattered now was the quiet understanding that you didn’t have to face anything alone.
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Eijiro Kirishima ᡣ𐭩
The sun had long set, leaving the apartment illuminated by warm overhead lights.
Dinner dishes were still on the table, and the faint scent of grilled chicken lingered in the air.
You were on your way to the kitchen, carrying the plates from the table, your footsteps brisk. Behind you, Kirishima’s voice followed, sharp with frustration.
“I’m just saying you could’ve told me before making the plans!” he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and hurt.
You turned your head slightly, your own irritation bubbling over. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal, Eijiro! It’s just a dinner with some friends!”
“Yeah, friends I barely know,” he shot back, following you into the kitchen. “You know I like to plan things. I hate feeling blindsided like this!”
The plates clinked loudly as you set them on the counter, your movements a little too forceful. “It’s one night! You don’t have to go if it’s such a problem!”
Kirishima ran a hand through his hair, his usually soft expression hardened by the argument. “That’s not the point, and you know it. Why do you always do this? Make decisions without even talking to me?”
You spun around to face him, your hands gesturing wildly. “Because not everything needs a full-blown discussion, Eijiro! Sometimes, I just want to do something without overthinking it for hours!”
The tension in the room was thick, your words bouncing off each other like sparks flying in a forge. Neither of you were backing down, your voices overlapping in a heated exchange.
As you turned to grab something from the counter, your hip collided with the edge of the kitchen island. Hard.
The sharp pain took you by surprise, and you let out a yelp, instinctively clutching your side.
The impact sent a dull ache radiating through your hip, and you stumbled slightly, leaning against the counter for support.
Kirishima’s anger evaporated in an instant, replaced by concern. “Babe, are you okay?” he asked, rushing to your side.
You winced, blinking back tears of pain. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice wavered.
“Let me see,” he said, his hands hovering near your waist as if unsure whether to touch you.
“It’s nothing, Eijiro,” you insisted, though the way you clutched your hip betrayed your words.
“Don’t give me that,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re in pain. Sit down, please.”
Reluctantly, you allowed him to guide you to one of the kitchen chairs.
His hands were gentle as he helped you sit, his worry evident in the furrow of his brows.
“Where did you hit it?” he asked, crouching in front of you.
You hesitated before lifting the hem of your shirt slightly to reveal the reddening spot on your hip.
Kirishima winced at the sight, his expression softening even more.
“That looks like it hurts,” he said, his voice filled with guilt. “I’ll get some ice.”
He stood quickly, rummaging through the freezer until he found an ice pack.
Wrapping it in a towel, he returned to your side, kneeling in front of you as he gently pressed the ice pack to your hip.
You hissed at the sudden cold but didn’t pull away, the pain already beginning to dull. “Thanks,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze.
Kirishima sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean to get so worked up. I just… I hate fighting with you.”
You looked down at him, his crimson eyes filled with sincerity. “I’m sorry too,” you admitted. “I should’ve talked to you about the dinner. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I overreacted. I know you weren’t trying to. I just… I like being included, you know?”
“I get it,” you said, reaching out to brush a hand through his hair. “And I’ll try to be better about that. I promise.”
Kirishima leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. “And I’ll try not to blow up over little things. We’re a team, right?”
“Always,” you said, a smile finally breaking through the tension.
He stood, helping you to your feet as well. “Come on,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get you comfortable on the couch. I’ll clean up the kitchen tonight.”
You laughed softly, leaning into him as he guided you out of the kitchen. “You’re really trying to make up for this, huh?”
“Damn right I am,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I screwed up, and I’m not letting you think for a second that I don’t care.”
As you settled onto the couch, Kirishima brought you a blanket and a glass of water before sitting beside you, his hand resting gently on your leg.
The earlier argument felt like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of his care and the quiet understanding that no matter how heated things got, you’d always find your way back to each other.
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Denki Kaminari ᡣ𐭩
The evening had started off normally enough. You and Denki were at home, trying to enjoy some downtime after a long week.
The living room was dimly lit, the faint hum of the TV filling the silence as you moved around, trying to organize the tangled mess of chargers and wires behind the entertainment stand.
Denki sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone, his usual carefree demeanor noticeably absent.
A small disagreement earlier in the day had left a lingering tension between the two of you, and neither had made the move to resolve it.
“You’ve got too many things plugged in back there,” Denki said, breaking the silence.
You sighed, crouched behind the TV as you worked to untangle the mess. “I know, Denki. That’s why I’m fixing it.”
“It’s not just about fixing it,” he shot back, his voice sharper than usual. “You’re always leaving it like that, and it’s dangerous. I’ve told you a hundred times.”
You rolled your eyes, the frustration bubbling up. “I don’t need a lecture right now. I’m handling it, okay?”
His phone landed on the coffee table with a thud, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Handling it? That’s what you always say. But you never actually—”
“Can you not right now?” You interrupted, turning your head to glare at him. “I said I’ve got it under control.”
Denki scoffed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Yeah, sure. You’re so ‘in control’ that you’re probably going to end up shocking yourself.”
Your temper flared at his sarcasm. “At least I’m doing something instead of sitting there complaining!”
The tension in the room thickened, your voices rising as the argument escalated.
You were so focused on getting the last charger plugged in and proving a point that you didn’t notice the faint crackle of static building up in the air.
“Maybe if you actually listened—” Denki started, but his words were cut off by your sudden yelp.
A sharp jolt of electricity shot through your fingers as you plugged in the charger, making you jump back and wince in pain. “Ow!”
Denki was on his feet in an instant, his earlier anger replaced with concern. “What happened?” he asked, rushing to your side.
You cradled your hand, your face twisted in discomfort. “I got shocked,” you muttered, trying to shake off the stinging sensation.
“I told you!” Denki exclaimed, though his voice was more panicked than accusatory. “That’s why I said it’s dangerous!”
You shot him a glare, still cradling your hand. “This isn’t the time to say ‘I told you so,’ Denki!”
His expression softened as he crouched beside you, gently taking your hand in his. “Let me see,” he said, his voice quieter now.
You hesitated but allowed him to examine your fingers. His touch was gentle, his thumb brushing over the spot where the jolt had hit.
“It doesn’t look bad,” he said, his golden eyes scanning your hand for any signs of burns. “Does it still hurt?”
“A little,” you admitted, your earlier anger fading as you saw the genuine worry on his face.
Denki let out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “You scared me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
You blinked, taken aback by his sudden vulnerability. “I’m fine, Denki. It’s just a little shock.”
“Yeah, but it could’ve been worse,” he said, his brow furrowed. “I shouldn’t have let you do that by yourself. I should’ve just helped instead of being a jerk about it.”
You sighed, the weight of the argument finally settling over you. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, either,” you admitted. “I was just frustrated, and I took it out on you.”
Denki’s lips quirked into a small smile, his usual lightheartedness beginning to return. “We’re both pretty good at being stubborn, huh?”
You chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah, we are.”
He stood, offering you his hand to help you up. “Come on. Let’s take a break from this mess. I’ll get you some ice for your hand, and then we can figure it out together.”
You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thanks, Denki.”
As the two of you walked to the kitchen, the tension between you began to ease.
Denki rummaged through the freezer, pulling out an ice pack and wrapping it in a towel before handing it to you.
“Here,” he said, his grin more playful now. “And for the record, you look cute when you’re stubborn.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re lucky I love you, idiot.”
Denki laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Love you too, spark plug.”
The argument was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of your shared laughter and the promise to face things together, no matter how tangled or messy they might be.
FANFIC RECOMMENDATION ᡣ𐭩
Adult Bakugo x Female Reader Fanfic
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sylusplushie · 19 hours ago
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''My dragon...''
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summary; when mc is facing death and has no choice but to save her, sylus is forced to show his other side. in the end, no matter how much he tries to hide it, his horns are visible
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This was my end, I was sure of it. I couldn't go any further; my strength was completely depleted. Warm blood streaming down my face blurred my vision, but I knew they had surrounded me. They were shouting; their voices reached me in a muffled way. I could hear my own breath, my heartbeat. I felt like I could faint at any moment.
I had no strength left to fight them; all I could think about was Sylus. I thought of all the moments we had spent together. If my life was flashing before my eyes, then my entire life was about him. Without realizing it, I felt myself smile. Despite being on the brink of death, just thinking about him soothed my soul. When I noticed the weapon raised toward me, I knew everything would end. I knew he wouldn't hear me, but I wanted to call out to him anyway. "I love you, Sylus."
I closed my eyes tightly, bracing myself for the end as much as I could. But suddenly, a violent sound rang out. It was so intense that I had to cover my ears, thinking the sky had split in two. Filled with chaotic emotions, I, like everyone else, looked up at the sky. My heart was racing; could things get worse than this?
The sky looked more terrifying than ever. The redness blending into the night's darkness was captivating. Everyone was stunned and frightened. "Did you do this?! Is this one of your tricks?!" they shouted at me, but I was too frozen to answer. There was something moving in the sky—a silhouette? I didn't know, but it seemed like… something huge.
"ANSWER ME, YOU BASTARD!" They aimed the weapon at me again, and that sound echoed once more, like an enraged roar. I was trembling; I had never heard anything so terrifying. When I looked up at the sky again, I couldn't believe my eyes. Was a massive creature flapping its wings, or was I losing my mind? Before I could comprehend what was happening, the ground began to shake. The creature roared with such fury that I was sure even the atmosphere was trembling. Everyone was running in fear, but I was losing so much blood that I felt my vision darkening.
I fell face down; the ground was shaking, everything was shaking. My vision was getting blurrier, and I had no idea what was happening around me. I wished so desperately for everything to be a nightmare. I was going to die there; there was no escape or salvation. I could clearly hear the creature's roars. It looked furious, destroying everything and everyone in its path. The surroundings had turned into a ring of fire and chaos. I was forcing myself to stay awake, but it was futile; my strength was dwindling.
I saw the creature descend, its massive body hitting the ground with a thud that shook everything. My vision was blurry, and I couldn't help but think my mind was playing tricks on me. Could the thing I was seeing in front of me be a dragon? No, it couldn't be. I wasn't in my right mind; this had to be some kind of illusion. Until I felt its breath. Warm and ash-scented, it surrounded me. Damn, it was real. I was face-to-face with a dragon, and I had no strength left. What could be worse than this? Maybe this was worse than death itself.
Yet, there was an inexplicable feeling of safety I felt toward this creature. It was as if I knew it wouldn't harm me from somewhere. I thought if I had encountered a dragon before, I wouldn't forget it. For some reason, I felt very calm; my heart and mind were at peace. It was a strange feeling, one I couldn't even explain to myself.
My vision was getting blurrier; the blood flowing from me was no longer warm. I felt my body starting to freeze. I had no idea how much blood I had lost, but I didn't even have the strength to move a finger. Even though my vision wasn't clear, I was sure the dragon had transformed into a human form. "I'm losing my mind… I must be… or maybe I'm already dead…"
This couldn't be possible, it shouldn't be. It was approaching me with heavy steps, and at that moment, I began to tremble like an injured bird. I didn't know what would happen to me, and I had no strength left to endure. Just before I fully closed my eyes, a familiar scent reached my nose. I knew this scent. I definitely knew it. My body was screaming silently to wake up again. I had to see, I had to be sure. My mind wasn't playing tricks on me; I had to be sure of it. I was battling with my consciousness as if it were a war, trying to open those delicate eyelids had never been this difficult.
I managed to barely open my eyes, and I was being carried by someone. When I lifted my gaze, I saw the owner of that familiar scent. Sylus. It was him. It was really him. I wanted to cry, to shout, but I could barely keep my eyes open. What was all of this? Could it all have been a simple illusion? I didn't know. All I knew was that I knew nothing.
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My consciousness was slowly returning. I tried to open my eyes, but the light was so intense that it took a while. I looked around; I was in a hospital room. I was bandaged all over, and I still hurt a lot. Everything I had seen came rushing back to my mind. I had remembered everything; it was impossible to forget. My heart was racing, and I couldn't control my breath. It felt like a dream, but it wasn't. I didn't want to consider the possibility that it was a dream. The door opened, and Dr. Zayne entered. The last thing I remembered was being carried by Sylus; he must have brought me here. Dr. Zayne was taking the best care of me.
Finally, I found the energy to speak. I parted my dry lips. "Dr. Zayne, do you know who brought me here?" My voice was so faint that Zayne had to lean in to hear me. I saw him sigh and frown. I hoped he wouldn't hide anything from me. "Sylus brought you here, but don't worry, I'll take care of you—"
"Can you call him?" I felt bad for cutting Zayne off, but I couldn't suppress the excitement and the need for answers inside me. I wanted to know. I wanted to know what my visions meant. I wanted to know what had happened. Zayne looked at me silently for a while. "I don't know where he is, and I don't think I can reach him. You just need to rest and relax. Don't think about it now."
If only it were as easy as he said, not to think. I didn't have the energy to argue. I thought Sylus would come to see me eventually. I didn't know how many days had passed, but only Luke and Kieran had visited. Sylus hadn't come at all. I knew he was getting information about me from Luke and Kieran, but what I didn't know was why he hadn't come personally. When I asked them, I always got the same answer. "The boss is very busy."
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The days in the hospital felt endless. Even though Zayne was taking the best care of me, I had been eagerly waiting to be discharged, and finally, that day had come. Luke and Kieran were accompanying me. I wanted to ask them more questions about Sylus, but I tried to comfort myself, thinking he might be home. It was a silly thought, I knew. Finally, we arrived; I was still having a bit of trouble walking, but I refused to accept any help. "I can manage on my own." When I entered the house, it was exactly as I had expected—Sylus was nowhere to be found. I narrowed my eyes, clearly, he was avoiding me. I turned to Luke and Kieran, who seemed ready to give me the same excuse. "No, Sylus is not busy, and you two are going to tell me where he is."
They looked at each other. I was sure Sylus had instructed them; I knew him well. I stared them down, determined not to leave them alone. "Something is going on, and I'm not stupid. You're going to tell me where he is, or I'll go look for him myself." My wounds were still healing, but I was already prepared to search everywhere. "No! Something could happen to you, your wounds haven't healed yet," Kieran said in a panic, which gave me a chance to manipulate him. "Oh yes, but you can't stop me forever. So, tell me where Sylus is, and I won't exert myself. Or I'll go everywhere to look for him and lose sleep." It wasn't exactly manipulation; I could do more than my best to find him.
Luke and Kieran looked at each other again, knowing how stubborn I was. I crossed my arms and gave them a challenging look. I wasn't going to give up. Sylus had never avoided me before, and I wasn't going to sit idly by when there was an obvious problem. Finally, Luke sighed. "The boss is going to kill us."
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According to Luke and Kieran, Sylus was at an abandoned church in the forest. I had no idea what he was doing there; I couldn't even guess. Even if I thought about it, I wouldn't have imagined him being there. By the time we reached the forest, it was already night. I turned to them and said I wanted to go in alone. They weren't very eager to argue with me; both looked uneasy.
The forest was gloomy and silent; I could hear the crows. The ground crunched under my feet. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. No matter how much I hesitated to admit it to myself, I was nervous; my palms were sweating. When I stood in front of the church, the only thing I felt was the urge to run. There was something inside that was causing me to feel that way; it was heavy, sinister, mysterious. Still, my curiosity and longing for Sylus didn't let me take a step back. Slowly, I opened the old door. I had to put all my strength into it, but eventually, it opened with a creak.
The interior was dark and dusty. I had to cover my mouth with my hand. There was very little light inside, just a few candles lazily placed on the floor. It was clear they had been lit recently, which meant he was here. I took a few steps inside, unable to see anything until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I looked around, but it seemed as if there was nothing. The sound of my footsteps echoed inside. My heart began to beat faster; I didn’t know what awaited me and I was scared. "Sylus…?" Even I could barely hear my own voice, but for some reason, I didn’t want to call out to him loudly. I moved forward into the church, I had come this far, and I wasn’t going to turn back. Near the window, I finally saw a silhouette with its back to me. It was him; it couldn’t be anyone else. He knew I was here; it was impossible that he didn’t. But he didn’t move; he just stood there as if waiting for me to approach. I even began to doubt whether this was the Sylus I knew. I was scared, and I didn’t want him to sense it. Yet I slowly walked toward him; he still didn’t turn to face me.
"Is it always this hard to get rid of you?" His voice rooted me to the spot, my whole body stiff. He spoke without looking at me. "Why did you come? Couldn’t I have wanted to be alone for a bit?"
"You don’t want to be alone; you’re running away from me, Sylus." I took another step toward him; the least he could do was look at me while we talked. "I’ve come this far, but you’re still running from me; you’re not even looking into my eyes." I was filled with complex emotions; I felt like I was going crazy as I failed to understand what was happening. "What’s going on, Sylus? This isn’t you. You’ve never acted like this."
Sylus sighed, his breath fogging up the glass. "Maybe you don’t need to know everything. Some things aren’t worth bothering your little head over."
I frowned; yes, the situation was becoming increasingly infuriating. "I almost died there, and when I opened my eyes, I was in your arms, and then you started avoiding me. You didn’t even visit me in the hospital. And now you’re telling me I don’t need to know everything. Something is happening, but am I supposed to act like nothing’s wrong?"
I heard Sylus growl, though I couldn’t tell if it was out of anger or impatience. His fists were clenched. Slowly, he turned to me, his cold red eyes seemingly piercing my soul. He was still the Sylus I loved, but there was something off. "Why are you so eager for answers? I saved you in some way, and you’re alive; focus on that."
I took a few more steps toward him, now standing directly in front of him. Whatever was going to happen, let it happen; he could be as mad at me as he wanted, but I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. I looked into his eyes, but there was no sign of softening. "What did you do there? Was it some kind of illusion? What are you hiding from me?"
Sylus closed his eyes and lowered his head slightly. I couldn’t see his expression, but I was sure something was deeply troubling him. I cupped his face in my hands and lifted his head to look him directly in the eyes. The coldness was gone; instead, he looked so vulnerable, as if he had no strength left to hide anything. I gently caressed his cheeks with my thumbs; there was no rush to speak. I had to understand him too. "Please, Sylus, I want to know what’s bothering you so much," I whispered, looking into his eyes.
Sylus placed his hand over mine and brought it to his lips. I felt his cold lips on my skin. He stayed like that for a while, then looked at me with his half-open eyes. "Would you promise never to give up on me, no matter what happens? Or no matter what I become?" His voice was soft, very soft. I looked at him for a moment, trying to understand his words. "I would never give up on you. I care only about you, not what you are."
He slowly released my hand, his brows furrowing. I didn’t know if I had said something wrong, but I was sincere in my words. He stepped back a few paces, leaving some distance between us. I was afraid he would disappear again, run away. My heart was beating rapidly. He never broke eye contact with me. "Turn around."
I turned around immediately. I had no idea why I didn’t hesitate. I wasn’t afraid of him; I could give him my very soul. I just hoped he wouldn’t disappear anymore. The only sound I heard was the fluttering of something. "Look at me."
I turned around, trying to prepare myself for whatever I might see. But there was no way I could have been prepared for this. I held my breath. I had no idea what expression was on my face at that moment. Sylus… he had horns on his head, a tail behind him. He opened and closed his wings as if to show me. He stood so calmly. I knew he was waiting for me to say something. At that moment, everything felt surreal. While seeking answers, I found myself with even more unanswered questions. My tongue felt tied, as if I couldn’t utter a single word. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Are you happy?" His voice brought me back to reality. I was still in shock, but I knew I had to shake it off. "Sylus…" I whispered; it was the first word that escaped my mouth. He chuckled, nodding as if he had received the reaction he expected. "Now you understand why I hid myself, why I ran from you, don’t you? I didn’t want you to know what I was."
Sylus looked at his claws for a moment, while I still didn’t know what to say. "I didn’t want to show you this side of me anymore. I was trying to leave it behind. You should have believed everything you saw was a dream." He looked at me again with those cold eyes; it felt like a dagger to my heart.
"What are you talking about?" I walked toward him; he wanted to distance himself from me, but he couldn’t. "What made you think I would give up on you?" He leaned in close to me, our noses nearly touching. "It seems like you still don’t remember anything."
At that moment, I felt like I had shattered into a thousand pieces. I had no idea what he was talking about or what he meant. Before I could gather myself, he continued. "I was hoping you would remember in some way; then I wanted to show you my true self because if you remembered, you would…" He sighed deeply, locking his gaze away from me. "Forget it. Even if you remembered, you wouldn’t want to continue your life with a monster. Nothing would change."
My body moved without my will. I suddenly held his face, looking directly into his eyes. I could feel my eyes filling with tears, and I was trembling… I was filled with so many emotions that I couldn’t describe them. My breathing was becoming irregular, but he didn’t break eye contact. "What nonsense are you talking about…" I finally managed to say, unable to hide the trembling in my voice no matter how hard I tried. "How can you call yourself a monster, Sylus? After everything we’ve been through together, how could you think that I wouldn’t want to be with you just because of this?" Finally, tears started streaming down my cheeks. I held his face tighter; I didn’t want to see anything but his eyes. I wanted to see him, just him.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to remembering. Maybe… maybe you’re talking about those illusions I saw. And you wanted me to think that what happened that day was also an illusion. You wanted me to think that the dragon that appeared in the sky to save me was an illusion, but it was so real…" I smiled softly; I would give anything to see that illusion again. To fully remember, to completely understand what Sylus was talking about. But here we were, in this moment. Just because I couldn’t remember something from the past didn’t mean I couldn’t guide this moment. Sylus listened to me silently, saying nothing.
"I love you, Sylus. I love you. I don’t care what you are or what you’ve become. I love you with everything you are. I love you in this life too—"
Sylus suddenly pressed his lips to mine; I could taste the salt of my tears. His kiss wasn’t filled with desire but with longing. We had kissed before, but this was the first time he kissed like this. I held him tightly, grasping his horns. I had no intention of breaking the kiss. Our tongues entwined, our breaths mingled. He held me so tightly I felt like I might be crushed.
When he slowly broke the kiss, he wiped the tears from my eyes. I leaned into his touch, words failing to describe the emotions between us. He planted a kiss on the top of my head and held me tightly again, as if he never wanted to let go. I inhaled his scent, feeling his wings wrap around me. I buried my nose into the crook of his neck and closed my eyes.
"My dragon…"
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this is the first time i have written so long. PLEASE let me know your feedback, good or bad. i hope you liked it ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১
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cutekittenlady · 3 days ago
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Full offense but if a "friend" did this to me, I would get mad. Like actually mad.
Like, I dont think its appreciated how incredibly fucking rude this is?
I'm dead ass serious.
Like, if a friend recommends a book and you have no time to read it or otherwise its somehow too complicated for you then you need to grow a pair and just admit that your unable to really read it for one reason or another. Have a REAL conversation with your friend about how, while you appreciate them wanting to share this with you, its just not a home run. If your still open to recommendations then tell them or just remind them of your problems and try to lay down some things to keep in mind for future recommendations. Alternatively if your just not a big reader then establish that! You still wanna hear their interests, and your okay with them talking about books they've read, but reading just isn't something your super into. And thats fine!
While spark notes do exist, they exist largely as a Study Guide for people who are studying a piece of literature for a class. They are NOT actually meant for casual reading. You guys are probably thinking more of abridged editions of some books which cut down the content for quicker easier reading.
And thats honestly what makes this so rude. When someone recommends a book, they are not recommended a bulleted list of plot points. They want you to try and experience the text as written. Complete with all the quirks of the format, the authors word choice, the specific vernacular, everything.
Going through a bulleted list of the plot points of the Iliad is never going to be the same thing as reading a translation (even an abridged one) or a spoken narration.
A plot summary of The Lord of the Rings does not get the same feeling across as reading the trilogy.
Fuck it literally can't be DONE with any book by Terry Pratchett because that mans subtle word play haunts fans of the work for YEARS.
Plugging it into a worthless ass AI engine is a bigger slap in the face than just not reading the damn book at all because it means you have no respect for the EXPERIENCE your friend was genuinely trying to share with you! Its treating the act of reading a book someone shared with you as though its a chore you have to deal with.
I would be so fucking pissed if someone did this to me.
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what is HAPPENING
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lesbianherald · 19 hours ago
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my hatemail for you is that coming home is too fucking good and im having a hard time finding other jayvik fics that hit like it hit >:( im too new here to have already found my "The Javik Fic" dammit!!!! (p.s. have a good new year <3)
heeheheheeh thank you stuff like this means so much !
but also maybe i can HELPPP
there are some incredible fics out there that deserve so much love and recognition so here's a list of some of my absolute faves!
to swim through the fires – to stay in this world by theroyalsavage (M)
literally adore the character writing in this one and the tone. i found myself relating to and enjoying the style so much.
wound care (E) by Sinister_Queer
call me a child of divorce but I really struggle with fics where they're divorced, but this one is so with it. such an incredible, well-thought-out world and love that is so tangible between them.
advanced particle physics (the laws of attraction may apply) (E) by Sinister_Queer
fuck i didn't realize these were written by the same person until I did this list holy shit I want to give this person a kidney. I'm very picky about modern AUs probably because I had to think about my own so much. but this is just. so so good. The Jayce in this is EXQUISITE!!!
Love was the Law (E) by ruinthatboy
she's the most popular girl in school and I don't care because I'm still going to be singing her praises. incredible fic.
i read the signs (E) by vavavavoom
this is fucking phenomenal. i'd say its more vikjayce because we have defender jayce and machine herald vik, though its also set in an alternate reality from league. it has just, delicious epistolary elements. such good relationship building. it's so hard in a situation like theirs to believe they're fall in love but the author really. makes. you. believe it.
heavy crown (E) by vavavavoom
another absolute banger from this author. i love reading from an author that characterizes differently than you, but still so goddamn WELL. I feel the longing and tension in this and how that wars with duty. it's so marvelous.
hearts in halves (E) by vavavoom
i really struggle with mythology adaptations because they're deceptively hard to pull off but this author did it so damn well. The UGHHH!!!. THE PINING !!! THE WANT !!! AHHH!!!! I literally do not understand how it has not gotten more attention.
the blessing of all that you dreamed (M) by nightlilly
such an interesting one where the set up is similar to their lab dynamic in season 1 but viktor happens to be a really cool original fantasy being who can show people their deepest desires, which obviously gives then-oblivious jayce a crisis. so so good?
let's talk about chemistry cause I'm dying to melt through to the heart of {his} molecules (M) by the_RiftWalker
the love between them is so palpable in this one. they just feel so real. i relate to viktor a lot in this one - just really exquisite work.
inside the starshine by sepiacigarettes (E)
short and sweet and sexy with 👏PINING 👏LOVESTRUCK👏VIKTOR👏
Started out with a Kiss (T) by CasperCryptid
if you need to smile read this. its an adorable very silly drabble that somehow still manages to pack in some signature jayvik longing.
Perfect (M) by TheTrickyOwl
one of my first Jayvik fics i ever read from the one and only and oh my god. the raw emotion in this is so sweet.
Nothing Left to Lose (M) by TheTrickyOwl
same emotions as in perfect but in a devastatingly depressing context. is so so worth the read. so stunning and just brought up so many feelings.
tell me when my hunting days are done (E) by dualwelding
Dark and depressing Vampirism where the change Jayce makes to viktor after he almost dies is turning him into a vampire with insatiable bloodlust. it's such a gut punch and its sexy and I love it!
And finally...
I really hesitated to put anything of my own in this list because these authors are so damn good but I do have two others other than coming home (but not to you). I actually am more proud of here at the end so I wanted to throw it at people against their will.
Here at the End of All Things (M)
Follows old Man AU Mage Viktor's decades of solitude and the aftermath of his meeting with Jayce
In the After (E)
wrote this right after season 2 as a way to cope. was high on these new meds that weren't working the whole time so uhh. i can't attest to this one. she's my stepchild. but I have an inherent affection for her due to the time I wrote it. - follows what might happen after Jayce and Viktor vanished.
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revelboo · 2 days ago
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the recent development with 'everything is alright' has me wondering about king starscream and how... lonely he seems. granted rattrap is there but hes... not much company in stars mind, i think. like dont get me wrong i knew he'd be lonely and a little on the right side of miserable, but that in tandem with the bit about 'dont you know you're home/his future/the one good thing in his life' bit from the last chapter has me!! chokign up a bit cuz damn he really wasnt kidding!!! he got what he wanted but at the cost of still being miserable bc its fuckin LONELY at the top when youre paranoid as all hell with VERY REAL justifications to back said paranoia up!!! god!!!
Yeah, King Star isn’t all that happy. I do like playing with different versions of the same character and just tweaking the circumstances. In Everything is Alright he’s alienated himself from his Trine due to his paranoia, in True Romance he still trusts his Trine and has that relationship, so he’s a lot less paranoid and lonely, in Overdone his Trine just drifted apart. He could have made more of an effort to connect and reach out, but he was so focused on his goals, he didn’t really notice that gap widening until they’re almost strangers to each other
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Overdone Pt 2
IDW RID Starscream x Reader
• “You’re weren’t on earth, were you?” He asks when Rattrap gawks at the human in his grip. Striding past, he heads for his private habsuite. Hears Rattrap weakly call out about the reports and he ignores him. They can wait. But you? A human from nowhere plummeting to your death. Closing the door behind himself, he studies you as you cling to his servos. Timid for a spy. “Well?” He growls, depositing you on his desk. “Where did you come from?” Who sent you to spy on him? Wants to know so he can and deliver your broken body to them.
• Falling on your hip, you stare at the big monster and his wings flare out. Trying to say something, anything, when you’re too terrified to make a sound. You’d been driving and then crippling plain had slammed through you, feeling like being torn in two. And then finding yourself somewhere wholly different falling to your death. It’s a nightmare and you can’t wake up. Lip curling, he slams his huge palms down far too close to you and you scream and cringe into a ball. “Speak! Who are you working for?” He roars.
• Pretending at terror? No, venting softly as that acrid shift in your scent registers, he leans back. Not an act. “I don’t know! I don’t know anything!” You cry, little voice broken and terrified and his wings droop slightly. Maybe you’re telling the truth, but you came from somewhere. Humans don’t spontaneously teleport across space and time. Except you apparently had. Servos tapping on the desk, he glares at you and the problem you pose. If you are a spy? An autobot ally sent to undermine him? Why risk your death? If he hadn’t grabbed you, you would have died. Maybe whoever had dropped you meant to see what he’d do and you’re of no importance to them beyond as an expendable pawn?
• “Stop cowering and sniveling,” he growls and you risk a glance at that scowling face, see his optics narrow at you. “If you show your fear, others will use that against you.” Heart hammering against your ribs, you watch him pace around the huge room. And when he’s not looking at you, you can breathe. Try to get your bearings. You have no idea where you are or how you got here, but it had hurt worse than anything you’ve ever felt. Tracking him as he lifts a hand, murmuring, you realize he’s talking to himself at the same time it sinks past the fear that he’d caught you when you’d been falling. He’d saved you.
• Why had he saved you? Because you’re not a monster not matter how much you pretend you are, that annoying, little ghost whispers and he curls his lip. “You know nothing.” Refuses to look, to let his processor trick him with impossible things. Would think maybe you’re a hallucination, too. Except he’d felt your little heart beating against his servos, the warmth of your body in his hands. He’s not mad enough to imagine details like that, yet. Though for you to appear when he was considering not pulling up? Are you a punishment? Drifting back to the desk, his head tips with predatory interest as he rests a servo against your throat and you lay a soft hand on him. You feel real. “Tell me why I shouldn’t rid myself of you. Make me believe you’re no spy.”
Previous
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bettystonewell · 1 day ago
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What Happened Last Night? - Part 1
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: After burning the Book of the Damned and escaping the Styne’s, you all have a night of harmless celebrations back at the bunker. At least, it was harmless until Charlie suggested a game of Never Have I Ever, and the rest of your night became a blur. Friends to Lovers 18+ only
Word Count: 3,300
Warnings: Language, Dubious Consent (implied drunk sex), SMUT in part two
Or read it on AO3 here
A/N: Hey 👋 This is my first time posting a fanfic on Tumblr. The names’s Beth (Aussie/Dean-girl/tired mum). I’ve been on AO3 (and Wattpad) for over a year now and thought it was about time I put my big girl pants on and join the community here because it looks fun (though the social media side of this scares my close-to-midlife-crisis-ass). So, yeah, newbie in terms of everything here - please be kind. If you recognise me from the other sites, please say hi 😊 This is a cross post - there are two chapters total. Let’s see how this goes!
in vino, veritas
in wine, there is truth
Five bodies sat around the mess room table that night, drinking their troubles away and eating their fill. 
You, Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Cas at the end, sitting on a wooden chair he’d brought in from the library to make more space for those of you who did eat.
"This won't work," you said to the other four, though it was technically directed at Charlie. Your tone was as condescending as you could make it under the influence of the alcohol you’d already consumed. 
Three beers and two sneaky sips of Charlie’s Harvey Wallbanger you’d taken while she wasn’t looking.
It was one less ounce of bounce in her step for your at-the-time more than tipsy gal pal and well deserved. Especially now she’d revealed her true intentions on why she’d encouraged you to partake in drinking in the first place.
In her overly enthusiastic state, she’d suggested a game to get “The Party Started.” A phrase she’d attempted to sing in vain as only you seemed to understand its reference. 
Though Sam might have had a clue. His mouth had turned up around the lip of his bottle he’d conveniently sipped during the rendition of the Black Eyed Pea's early noughties banger.
Dean was one hundred per cent clueless, of course. Nothing past the eighties was decent to him. Nothing except that one Taylor Swift song you’d caught him listening to when he thought no one was watching. 
He had sulked then and had been sulking on and off again since last night. Brooding over the fact he’d lost his one chance to remove the mark. Unbeknownst that Sam had not burnt the Book of the Damned like he, Charlie and Cas thought, but in a better mood thanks to the booze and pizza he’d brought home.
You knew better.
Both about his demeanour and what had really happened with the ancient text. 
You’d seen Sam swap it with a replacement and you’d promised him you’d keep your mouth shut. Something you were hating your past self for.
Past you was a fucking idiot.
A fucking idiot who was about to get drunk from a game of Never Have I Ever like Charlie had suggested, and at risk of spilling more than one can of beans if you didn’t think of something fast to stop it. 
Charlie, the conniving little… She knew way too much about you after the last time you’d had a few with her and the glint in her eyes that you’d seen when she suggested the damn game was enough for you to know that what she was planning was dangerous.
A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. Or something like that.  
And she was almost there. 
“What do you mean, it won’t work?” she said with far too loud a pitch that made even Cas uncomfortable. 
Well, more uncomfortable than normal.
“Umm. The angel, for starters.” You directed your gaze at Cas, realising too late that you were going to give him a complex. “I think most of our everyday human experiences are going to be a never for him. And whatever he did in heaven will be the same for us. It’s unbalanced.”
“You’re thinking too much. He’ll get drunk. We’ll get drunk. That’s the point of the game,” Charlie said.
But her grin left her when a gruff, “I won’t,” interjected itself into the conversation. 
Hah. Won’t. It was as if you’d sucked the happiness out of Charlie and taken it all for yourself to then rub it back in her face. “See. Cas doesn’t want to play. And Sam and Dean clearly don’t want to play either.” They'd said nothing against the suggestion and nothing against you now.
“Actually, you don’t have enough liquor here to get me drunk,” Cas added.
Don’t have enough… “Seriously?” You looked at him again and he nodded. An apologetic look on his face.
Which brought a ‘challenge accepted’ one into Charlie’s.
Looking around the room for support from the guys, you noticed Sam hiding a silent chuckle behind the bottle in his hand. 
While Dean, who had been quiet since Charlie had burst out in song, locked eyes with yours. “Well, if there aren’t any more arguments from you, sweetheart, let’s play.”
And you thought Cas’ claim that there wasn’t enough booze for him was a surprise.
Fuck. Your head was pounding.
Your mouth was drier than a desert with a chalky sensation in your throat and lips that felt like they had cracked. 
Yup. Cracked alright. They stung as you splayed your tongue over them, attempting to nourish the skin with what little wetness you had left in your mouth. A fat lot of good that did, though.
They weren’t the only part of your body feeling uncomfortable. Pins and needles from where you’d slept funny on your arm tingled from your funny bone to your wrist.
‘Ow. Fuck.’ Well, that hurt.
You were hung without a doubt, and just all over feeling seedy.
At least you’d slept some of the alcohol off and were no longer drunk. You thought.
The strands of hair that had made their way into your mouth and the saliva you strung along with it as you pulled it out would say otherwise. Urgh. Gross.
Had you been drooling? No wonder your throat was dry.
You groaned and forced your eyes open. Yes, you had. There was a wet patch on the white pillowcase below you.
Odd. You didn’t own white sheets. 
You’d decorated your room in the bunker with as much colour as you could. What with the hunting life full of black, brown, denim and blood, you didn’t need any of that spreading into your personal space. 
Of course, white was colour(ish), but again, you didn’t own white sheets, and your room didn’t have a solid wall where you were facing. Curiouser and curiouser. Your door was supposed to be right there. 
You were at the correct end of the bed for it. A headboard behind you and a pillow underneath you, meaning you were lying on the right side. Yet all you saw was more bricks, a tall boy in some kind of brown and clothes that weren’t yours scattered on the surrounding floor. 
Amongst them, a pair of jeans - okay, they might be yours. But the flannel? One plaid with various browns and greens. The very same Dean had been wearing last night?
Fuck.
Dean’s clothes. Dean’s room.
This was Dean’s room? 
This was Dean’s room. 
Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. 
What were you doing here? The last thing you remember was… Fuck.
Those lips. Dean’s lips, plump and whiskey-tainted, had peppered kisses on you in more than one place. Over your mouth, your cheek and your neck. Lower... 
You’d learnt the spot at the base of your ear above your lower jaw was quite sensitive. Dean had learnt that, too. He’d also learnt a few other things if your tainted memory served you correctly, and you, the same about him.
The way his muscles contracted around his chest and back. Every little ridge, taut and firm, continued even down his arm and into his hands. Those talented fingers had a way of placing pressure in just the right places to make you blush. They’d found their way under your shirt and bra and…
Oh… Oh…
Had you slept with him and not remembered the main event? Was that possible with Dean? Your friend. The guy you’d wanted to be more than for the longest of time.
You've fallen for him the day you’d met. With that charming smile and those dazzling green eyes. 
And that was before you’d gotten to know him.
Now you knew the man behind the shit-eating grin. The playful, sometimes scary nerd (who refused to admit it) was loyal to those he cared about. A self-righteous martyr, who could be a bit of a dick sometimes and followed it too when the time was appropriate. 
Not that he’d done it so much lately. 
Except, maybe now.
You were screwed and without asking him, there weren’t too many ways to check if indeed you had been by him.
You turned your head slowly to find an empty bed next to you. 
Thank fuck. There was plenty of time to ask, but his bed was not the place.
You stretched your legs out, noting they felt normal. Stiff if anything, but not in a way you’d expect if you’d partaken in good sex.
Of course, that meant nothing. Maybe the rumours you’d heard about Dean were untrue?
Yeah right. 
You’d seen the satisfied faces from all of his past hook-ups as they fled his motel room the next morning. Possibly one in every state. He had brought none of them to the bunker though, meaning you were the first to sleep in his room. In his bed.
Go you... That was something to be proud of, not. 
You’d hightailed it out of his room after all that. Slinking off down the hall to your own to get changed out of the clothes you’d been wearing the night before. You hadn’t been wearing them when you’d woken up, of course. Oh, no. You’d been wearing one of his henleys, braless underneath, and your underwear surprisingly still on. 
While you’d think that would be a comfort for you, you knew that meant nothing. Though everything felt normal down there, so maybe it did. 
You weren’t sticky when you had a shower, but you noticed the love bites above your breasts when you looked in the bathroom mirror after it. There were bruises on your hips too. Ones shaped like fingerprints that fingers had pressed into you on either side. 
Hmm.
There was only one way to find out what had happened and once you’d primed and prepped yourself, wearing clothes that covered you from your neck to your toes, you made your way to the same room where everything had gone down the night before.
Stupid Charlie and her stupid fucking game. 
“Hey, Charlie,” you greeted when she saw you enter. Her eyebrows raised, along with her grin. “Where’s everyone else?” 
In other words - Where’s Dean?
Only Charlie sat at the table. The rest of the room was clear. There were no more pizza boxes, no more alcohol bottles and no one in the kitchenette. Not even someone’s head in the fridge. 
Just Charlie, with the smell of bacon and freshly ground coffee lingering in the air around her.
Coffee. You needed some of that.
“Sam’s got his head in the books again. Can you believe he was up before eight?”
Actually, you could and you hummed in response as you took your fresh cup of steaming goodness up to your lips to sip.
“I think Cas has left the building. We may have gotten him drunker than we thought.” She smirked. “And I figured you knew where Dean was.”
Your mouth spluttered over the rim of your cup. Coffee now dripped down your shirt and a few of the drops had landed on the floor. 
You flicked your eyes to your friend as you placed the cup on the table opposite her. Towels. You needed towels.
“Don’t give me that look. I saw you two after I left. And I checked on you this morning when I first got up. You weren’t in your room,” she said.
There was a knowing look on her face as you made your way between the pantry and back again that you ignored. Stooping down low to wipe the spill you’d made on the tiled floor below, only joining her once you’d discarded the paper towel in the bin along with your dignity.
Your hands went straight back to your cup, sipping on the rim and avoiding Charlie’s prying eyes.
“Come on. Let me live vicariously. What happened between you two?”
“I don’t know,” you whispered.
“You don’t know? I set this all up for you and him and you don’t know?”
“Ssshhh.” Your shoulders slouched, and you reached across the table to grab her arm. “I don’t remember, okay? I woke up in his bed but…”
“Did you two?” She made a crude gesture with her hands.
“I. Don’t. Know.” Your eyes were open wide as you enunciated every syllable to get your point across. 
“How do you not know?” Charlie blinked a couple of times. 
Drawing in a long breath, your mouth agape and ready to sigh it all out, you looked back at your friend and trembled your head in a quick shake. “I remember fooling around a bit but I don’t remember much more than that.”
“So you just woke up in his bed and don’t know how you got there?” she asked.
“I mean, I know how I got in his room, I remember that much, I think, but I don’t remember lying down or, you know.” The look you gave her was enough. You didn’t need to elaborate and even if you had wanted to, a heavy thud of boots echoed through the corridor outside.
Sure, it was possibly Sam, but that distinct gap between steps could only have been made by one bow-legged Winchester. And when Charlie’s face lit up opposite you and you heard the sound abruptly stop from somewhere near the door, you knew it to be true.
“Morning Dean,” she said. The chirpiness in her voice made you want to slap her silly but as you only had access to the hand that still held yours in the moment, you dug your fingernails into the skin below them instead. “Ow. You want some breakfast? There’s bacon still in the pan.”
Dean grunted and you felt eyes boring into the back of your head.
You refused to look behind you to where you knew he was pouring his own coffee by the sounds of it and released Charlie’s hand to pick up your cup. You took slow sips, keeping both your mouth and the rest of your body occupied while your elbows rested on the table, defending yourself from Charlie and her quips.
“How did you sleep?” she asked this time. Her eyes flicked between you both.
Could she be any more obvious?
“Fine,” he grumbled. “You got any more questions, or are you gonna leave us in peace to sort our own shit out?” 
Fuck.
You looked over at Charlie with a pleading look that said ‘Please don’t go.’ My how things had changed. But she grinned back at you and wagged her eyes, before standing and leaving the room in haste. Damn traitor.
As her footsteps trailed off down the hall, the room grew uncomfortably silent. Making your sips the loudest thing to have ever existed in the world. 
Your coffee was more bitter than it had been and you needed sugar pronto if you ever wanted to finish it.
You brought your cup down and placed it on the table before you to let your fingers fidget over the thin porcelain. Paying attention to each sharp angle between the curves and painted decorations. More so than was ever necessary.
Your eyes fixated on it, even as Dean took Charlie’s place across from you, watching you with caution. “So,” he cleared his throat. “How’d you sleep?”
Seriously? Taking Charlie’s line was how he wanted to start this. Well alrighty then. “Um. Fine, I guess. You?” You braved a glance at him, noting he was more serious in his disposition than usual.
“Like a log,” he said before silence filled the room again.
Right. You weren’t sure what you should say next. There was that big question on your mind, but you wanted, no, needed to approach it carefully. You didn’t want him to know you didn’t remember what if anything had happened between you. 
Not for his ego, but for yours.
You took another glance at him and saw his tongue run along the inside of his cheek, making it stick out under the five o’clock shadow he was yet to get rid of. He always looked his best like that. 
“I uh, I was surprised you weren’t there when I came back to my room just now.”
Wait. He was? “You were?” 
“Yeah.” There was a defensive twang in his tone. It was subtle, but it was there. “I only went to take a shower and then I found you’d bolted… I thought…” He shook his head.
He thought. Thought what?
You looked him up and down. It wasn’t just his tone that was unusual. The way he held his shoulders and the way he gripped his coffee cup before him was odd. In anyone else, you’d say they were lacking in confidence, but Dean wasn’t like this.  
The last time you’d seen him in such a way was after he’d killed Randy and the thugs in Pontiac and had come home dishevelled and broken over what he’d done.
“What did you think?” you asked, stretching your arm out to brush his hand across the table. Hoping that by doing so it might relieve whatever tension he was feeling.
There was a warmth there, that spread under your fingertips as your skin touched his and brought flashbacks to your mind of you touching other places on his body. 
You’d seen him with his shirt off last night. Been up close and personal with his tattoo and the scars that adorned his chest. You’d felt the dip in his spine and the pressure of his waistband pressing into your thumbs when you’d hooked them under the denim that sat around his waist.
Had you gotten into those jeans last night?
“Last night,” he said, watching your hand with interest. “After what we talked about.”
What we talked about? You’d stayed up well into the night with him. Long after Sam and Charlie had gone to bed and Cas had disappeared to do whatever Cas does. But just like your memories of what took place in his room were drawing blank, so too were whatever words you’d exchanged with him. 
All you could see were the grins and smirks he threw your way, and you nodded your head to stall. It didn’t do you any favours. 
He was looking at you with a scrutinising gaze and just as your cheeks had burned when he found that spot under your ear, they did the exact same to you now and gave everything away. “You. You don’t remember? Do you?”
You bit your lip and shook your head. “I ah. I’m drawing blanks. Some of it, I remember, but I couldn’t tell you what we talked about after the others left. And…” You hesitated.
“What?” His eyes locked onto yours and while they made you nervous, you couldn’t pull away. 
“Dean. Did we…” 
He seemed almost disappointed. But rather than wait for you to finish your question, or answer it even though it was as obvious as Charlie had been, he stood up, scraping the chair along the floor as he did so to storm off.
‘What the fuck just happened?’
You had drunk a lot and been drunk because of it. You’d spent time with Dean alone after the others had gone to bed and had talked with him about something. 
Something that led you to his room and into his bed. 
There’d been action. Kisses and touches. A bit of groping and clothes being removed. Small flashes of that continued to form in your mind. But while marks had been left on your skin and you’d stayed the night in his bed, you couldn’t remember the physical act of him being inside of you. Or you giving him a happy ending either for that matter. 
And now, he was disappointed.
Could it be that he felt the same way you did? 
————————————————————Thank you for reading! I’ll try posting part two same time next week - or you can read it now on AO3 here. In the meantime, I’ll be trying to work this site out (and finishing my WIPs whose updates are overdue… 🙃
66 notes · View notes
luv-beam · 2 days ago
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HI TARA!!! my thoughts while reading are under the cut :'))) but i gotta say that i fall in love w ur writing every time i read something from u:
• i would like to start off w the fact that u set the scene so incredibly well, like im in awe and envy at this beautiful scene ur painting for us 😭 not to mention that it all flows really well too; just a strong opening paragraph
• awwwh PLS THE BIG BROTHER LITTLE SISTER DYNAMIC!!! when the little sis thinks the absolute world of her big bro :'))) and when she's even more mad than he is LMAO the TOAD LINE??? damn seokmin i was not aware of ur game
• lowkey i would have folded that fast too if duke lee seokmin of lancaster played along and kissed my hand
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• this starting line ^ crazy good... like i'd like to sear this into my mind so i never forget it?? the social szn unfolds like a delicate fan??? adding another layer to the tapestry of ur life??? lee seokmin????
• HE HAS AN UNCANNY ABILITY TO ELEVATE THE ORDINARY UGHHHHH WHAAAAT A LINE i love that so, so much and it's so true as well
• awwwh yn and seokhao's goodbyes are so sweet :'')))) im so glad they all hold so much affection for one another
• "your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes could bear" im cryingksnfkdnjf seokmin sulking over the wool while he's away,, sometimes i like to imagine him as a damsel draping himself out of the window sill of a tower
• i love how yn describes herself feeling empty while hes away like heh... i know something u dont... heh :))))) and crocheting? me too!!! so cute that she made him smth
• TARA U R A MASTER AT IMAGERY!! the opening lines of age 15 are mwah chefs kiss like if i could draw/paint, i would literally turn this fic into a graphic novel for u
• tulip... brb while i burst into tears
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• started grinning like an idiot while reading this ^ i can see his playful melodrama and the smile on his face,,, im so down bad like i would fold like a lawn chair if we played around like this irl (i say as a grown ass woman)
• oh how i do love the classic brushing of the limbs that gets the mcs blushing like hell... also love what u did there w the planting seeds in ur mind to decode later while they're literally planting flowers... i see u tara u genius
• oh wow the total 180 w the reveal of the duke's death (also seokmin addressing her as my dearest tulip TT) — thinking of seokmin entering the social szn as a recently-made duke and all the girls hounding after him in his fresh grief......
• this section (seok and hao just got back after the death reveal) is short but so bittersweet. like when u give seok the swords from the flower bed and he just kind of chuckles like yes... days gone by huh... UGH
• it breaks my heart to know that seokhao now have their dead fathers as something in common 😭😭😭 its sweet tho to know they're all looking out for each other. im w yn tho, i hope hers and haos relationship isnt negatively affected by this :'))
• THE RETURN OF THE TAPESTRY METAPHOR
• okay i have to confess something... this is my second time reading thru... and so im reading the part where minghao and yn talk in the garden and he's warning her of the whispers springing up abt her and seok and im like... freaking out bc i KNOW WHAT HAPPENS 😭 IM GNAWING MY FIST LIKE IK THAT HAO'D CONCERN IS SINCERE AND IM JUST SJFNKENFKFJF THIS SCENE HOLDS SO MUCH MORE WEIGHT DURING A REREAD (why i love comparing my thoughts btwn a first and second read tho, like u see things /differently/)
• i love the teasing and sweet assurances in the letters 😭 like they're so genuine and cute (rip minghao)
• AHHHHH THE SMOKING SCENE FROM SZN ONEEEE i like this change of dynamic tho instead of being btwn siblings, it's now btwn two love interests friends
• WE CANT ALWAYS HAVE WHAT OUR HEARTS DESIRE???? WHILE LOOKING AT US LIKE THAT LEE SEOKMIN????????? HHEHDJDJFJFJKFKFK
• sure sure fencing BUT YEARNING TO FIND LOVE?? BUT MY DEAR SIR?? YOUR GRACE, YOUR LOVE IS RIGHT NEXT TO U
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• THE LONGING AND ASPECT OF THE FORBIDDEN MAKES THE SMALL DISTANCE BTWN U YAWN LIKE A CHASM AHHHH THIS PASSAGE!!!! like oof... i love angst and yearning like this, where im screaming at my phone screen to just kiss her already (knowing the... perilous journey ahead... heh...)
• friend.... FRIEND???? brb gonna go waltz into oncoming traffic
• oh the way this ends 😭😭😭 like my heart is being squeezed,,, the way he whispers tulip and the roots of ur love for him take hold UGGGHH!!! I CANT DO THIS
i will have to endure for another day tho and i will return for chapter two tmrw! i loved this even more than the first time i read it (and i loved it a lot then too)!! i was really able to sit w ur words this time, and i do have to say tara that u have such a talent for imagery, like omg this was so beautiful TT but thank u for writing this!! hope ur having a lovely day/night and i'll be back o7 💖
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The Somerset Affair | Chapter 1: Whispers in the Garden
pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.2k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: CHAPTER 1 IS FINALLY HEREEEE // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // 2nd chapter will be up soon!!!
summary: lee seokmin is a scoundrel for having beaten your brother at fencing. or... is he?
comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here!
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Age 8
Mayfair is alive today. The Somerset estate hums with energy, a ripple of excitement passing through the gathered crowd, their eyes all fixed on the fencing match taking place in the wide, manicured garden. The afternoon sun casts a golden haze over the scene, warming the air and wrapping everything in a soft, honeyed glow. Laughter and chatter float like music across the grounds, underscored by the occasional ring of steel clashing against steel. The sweet fragrance of roses drifts on the light breeze, mingling with the fresh scent of cut grass. You sit near the front, your small hands gripping the edge of your chair, bouncing with excitement as you watch your older brother, Minghao, spar against a boy you've never seen before.
This new boy stands tall, his dark hair tousled in the breeze, and a sharp determination shines in his eyes. The way he moves—it’s confident, with an energy that seems far beyond his years. Your brother, usually so self-assured, falters as the boy steps onto the mat. A flicker of unease passes through you, twisting in your stomach. You can feel the tension, see it in the way Minghao adjusts his grip on his sword. The match begins, and every time the swords collide, the sound reverberates through your chest. Your heart sinks a little more with each point your brother loses, and soon, the inevitable happens—the newcomer disarms Minghao with a flourish so smooth it draws gasps and murmurs from the audience.
"Such skill!" someone whispers, while others erupt in applause, their cheers filling the air. But you remain still, arms crossed tightly over your chest, brows drawn into a deep frown. How dare this boy defeat your brother? And so effortlessly! You want to scowl, to hold on to your anger, but the sound of the crowd’s cheers washes over you, making your resentment grow.
Seokmin—that’s his name, you overhear—steps forward, offering Minghao a hand, his smile wide and bright like the afternoon sun. "A splendid match, my lord," he says, his voice rich and full of youthful pride. "I must confess, I didn’t expect to come away unscathed!"
You narrow your eyes, watching as your brother, ever gracious, accepts the handshake. There's a mixture of admiration and annoyance in his expression, a good-natured acknowledgment of defeat. They exchange lighthearted jests, their laughter mixing with the lingering applause. But you? You're fuming. This boy, with his easy smile and seemingly endless charm, had just bested your brother, and you feel a burning need to dislike him for it.
Then, as if sensing your discontent, Seokmin turns to you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah, you must be Lord Minghao’s sister?” he says, his grin widening into something playful, teasing. “Goodness, you make him look like a toad by comparison!”
Your mouth drops open in shock, a wave of indignation rushing through you. How dare he say such a thing? And worse—how could your brother laugh?  "I beg your pardon?" you snap, standing as tall as your small frame will allow, arms crossing even tighter across your chest.
"Oh, I mean no offense, miss," Seokmin chuckles, clapping Minghao on the shoulder. "I jest, of course! Merely saying that you’re far lovelier than your brother—though, admittedly, it’s not a particularly high bar."
Despite yourself, your scowl begins to soften. There’s something about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the lightness in his voice. It’s hard to stay angry when he looks at you like that, as if daring you to join in on the joke.
“Mama says men who try to charm without revealing their titles aren’t to be trusted,” you counter, lifting your chin with defiant pride. The quip comes out sharper than intended, but you’re determined not to let him get the better of you.
Minghao gasps, hands raised in mock horror. “Sister, truly, must you always speak so boldly?” He turns to Seokmin with an exaggerated sigh. “Please Seokmin, do forgive her. I assure you, turning eight has done little to improve her temperament.”
“You’re only two years older than me, brother!” you huff, your voice a touch more indignant. Before you can continue, though, Seokmin drops into a low, dramatic bow, the movement exaggerated and theatrical.
“The fault is entirely mine, my lady,” he says in mock seriousness, rising and extending his hand toward you. “Lord Lee Seokmin, future Duke of Lancaster. At your service.”
Two years of etiquette lessons flood your mind, and with a sudden burst of excitement, you place your small hand in his. Seokmin bows once more, this time dropping a playful kiss on your knuckles as you curtsy. You can hear Minghao’s exasperated sigh as he rolls his eyes, but you ignore him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
Maybe Seokmin isn't such a scoundrel after all.
As the day wears on, you find yourself watching Seokmin from the corner of your eye. Despite your earlier indignation, there’s something undeniably captivating about him. You notice the way he treats everyone with kindness, far beyond what’s expected from someone his age. When a younger child stumbles near the fencing ring, it’s Seokmin who rushes to their side, kneeling in the dirt, his voice gentle as he asks, "Are you alright?" He helps the child up, brushing off their clothes with such care, you can’t help but be touched. "Fear not," he says, a smile returning to his face, "you’re not a toad—you’re a knight in training!"
The sight makes your heart soften further. How could someone so infuriating also be so kind? The lines of irritation you had drawn between you and Seokmin begin to blur, shifting into something more like curiosity.
As the sun sinks low, casting a warm amber glow over the estate, you find yourself gravitating closer to where Seokmin and Minghao stand, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation about fencing techniques. Seokmin’s laughter, bright and carefree, fills the air like music, and before you know it, you’re smiling too; there’s something undeniably magnetic about him.
Despite your best efforts, you can no longer deny the strange fluttering in your chest—a curiosity, perhaps even fascination, that you hadn’t expected. Maybe, just maybe, Seokmin isn’t such a scoundrel after all.
The days of the social season unfold like a delicate fan, each gathering adding another layer to the tapestry of your life, and with every event, Seokmin becomes a constant presence. He is no longer just an occasional guest—he’s a breath of fresh air, his laughter ringing through the halls of your family’s estate, turning even the dullest moments into something lively and bright.
The lively soirées your parents host become a stage for his effortless charm. Ladies in the latest fashions exchange flirtatious glances in his direction, while gentlemen engage in animated debates about politics and sport, the buzz of conversation always punctuated by Seokmin’s easy laughter. His presence transforms these gatherings, turning what once felt like routine social maneuvering into vibrant affairs filled with warmth and genuine joy.
Whether he’s lending a hand to your mother in the garden, his sleeves rolled up and face relaxed in concentration, or sparring with your brother in a friendly match, Seokmin has this uncanny ability to elevate the ordinary. What might be a simple afternoon stroll or an idle conversation becomes a moment of significance when he’s around. Sun-drenched afternoons spent wandering the estate take on a new glow, each moment painted with the sound of his voice, the infectious energy he brings.
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Age 14
The day Minghao and Seokmin leave for Eton is etched in your mind with vivid clarity, every detail sharp and impossible to forget. The morning is cool, yet the sun spills across the courtyard in golden rays, casting long shadows from the trees that sway gently in the breeze. The scent of dew-laden grass mixes with the faint perfume of your mother’s rose garden, but even the beauty of the estate feels muted by the melancholy lingering in the air.
Minghao, ever composed, stands with the straight posture expected of him, his hands clasped behind his back, looking every inch the young man ready to step into his responsibilities. His face, though calm, carries the weight of leaving home, but he hides it well, his eyes betraying only a flicker of the emotions swirling beneath the surface.
Seokmin, on the other hand, struggles more visibly with the impending farewell. His usual cheerful grin falters, the lightness of his presence dimmed as he glances between you and Minghao. He tries to keep up his usual charm, cracking jokes that feel just a little too forced, his laughter not ringing as true as it normally does. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness you haven’t seen before, as if he’s trying to hide his own sadness behind that well-worn mask of joviality.
As they load their trunks into the carriage, a heavy knot forms in your chest. You know you’ll miss your brother, but it’s Seokmin’s departure that stings deeper. He’s been more than a friend these past years—he’s been a constant, a steady warmth you’ve come to rely on. His laughter, his easy charm, the way he could turn even the most mundane day into something special. The thought of him being gone, of not seeing him wander the estate with his boundless energy, makes your heart ache in a way you didn’t anticipate.
You step forward, your fingers trembling as you reach for Seokmin’s hand, your grip tighter than intended. “Promise me you’ll write?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, each word trembling with the effort to hold back tears.
Seokmin’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, his usual grin giving way to something gentler. "Of course," he says, his voice steady but quieter than usual. He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture meant to comfort. “I’ll make sure you get the best letters—no boring stories, only adventures, I swear.” His grin returns, albeit a little weaker. "Besides, my lady, your brother and I will be back to torment you again come springtime!"
Minghao coughs politely. “No tearful goodbye for me, sister?”  he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of affection in his words. His eyes flicker between you and Seokmin, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, though his posture remains upright and composed as ever.
You tear your gaze from Seokmin and offer your brother a watery smile. “Do not fret, dear brother,” you say, a bit of your usual wit returning. “I’ll save the tears for later, when the house is quiet without the two of you causing chaos.”
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My Dearest Y/N,
I trust this letter finds you in fine spirits, though I daresay it is far more likely that you are wrapped in the cozy embrace of your favorite blanket, lost in a book, while the world outside continues on its merry way. I cannot help but smile at the thought, for you have always possessed the rare gift of finding joy in the mundane. 
Eton is quite a spectacle, I must confess. The architecture is enough to make one feel as though they have stepped into a storybook. However, I must admit my fellow classmates lack the charm and wit of my beloved friend.
Oh, how I miss our little chats! It is a curious sensation to feel so far from home, yet I am bolstered by the knowledge that you are there, keeping our little world intact. Do tell me that you have not yet taken up knitting—your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes can bear. 
Yours most fondly,Seokmin
My Dearest Seokmin,
Eton sounds positively enchanting.I must admit, the thought of you amidst all that grandeur brings me no small measure of joy—though I do hope you have not yet been swept away by the grandeur of it all! I find it impossible to imagine anyone there being quite as dashing as you.
Life here, as you suspected, is a touch quieter without your vivacious presence. I feel compelled to admit that I found myself rather melancholic the day you left. It was a curious sadness, one that clung to me like a shadow. The house feels a touch emptier, and while I do find solace in my books, nothing compares to the ease of our conversations. The warmth of your laughter is a melody I find myself longing for, especially on the coldest evenings.
Do keep writing, dear friend. Your tales from Eton are the very lifeblood of my days, and I shall regale you with the ongoing drama of our little realm. Until then, consider me your most devoted fan, ever eager for your next missive.
With all my affection,Y/N
P.S. You will take great pleasure in knowing that I have, in fact, taken up crocheting. A lovely cap, perfect for early springtime chill, awaits you at the estate. 
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Age 15:
Seokmin’s return each spring is as reliable as the first crocus peeking through the thawing earth, marking the true end of winter. His arrival is never just an event—it’s a burst of life that sweeps away the dullness left by the cold months. Every year, your excitement bubbles over as you anticipate that familiar moment when the world feels a little brighter with his return. The sunlight bathes the garden in warmth, a golden hue spreading like liquid over the well-trodden path he walks down, Minghao beside him. Their laughter floats through the air, a melody that harmonizes with the soft rustle of blooming flowers and the hum of spring.
When they finally come into view, your heart quickens, as if drawn into the rhythm of their steps. With Minghao’s ever-amiable grin and Seokmin’s radiant energy, they are a pair that seems to make the world tilt just a little toward joy. Every spring, it's the same—they stride toward you as if no time has passed, as if the long months apart were nothing but a brief blink in the grander scheme of your lives. And each time, the three of you fall into the same routines as though nothing has changed.
It usually begins with some mischief. They never fail to poke fun at you until you’re red-faced with exasperation. Seokmin, with that teasing glint in his eyes, will say something absurd or playfully condescending, and Minghao, ever the instigator, will back him up with a sly smirk. It’s only a matter of time before you lose your patience, yell, and stomp your foot, your protests ringing louder than you’d intended.
Your raised voice inevitably draws the attention of your mother, who reprimands you from the kitchen window with her usual fond disapproval. "Now, now," she’ll chide, a soft laugh hidden in her voice. "There’s no need to shout, dear. They’re only playing."
Of course, that’s the cue for Seokmin and Minghao to burst into laughter, doubling over in amusement at how easily they’ve ruffled your feathers. You scowl at them, but it’s hard to keep a frown on your face when they’re both so gleeful, their joy infectious, lighting up the entire garden.
One afternoon, not long after their return, Seokmin and Minghao find their old practice fencing swords—long forgotten and buried deep in the flowerbeds, peeking out from beneath the tulips. You watch as they unearth the swords with a mixture of surprise and amusement, both of them laughing as if uncovering a treasure trove of memories. Their faces are bright with nostalgia as they pull the dirt-encrusted weapons free, brushing off the petals clinging to the blades.
It's then that Seokmin starts to call you "Tulip," a private little nickname he utters only when it's just the two of you. The first time he says it, there’s a lightness to his tone, his lips curling into that mischievous smile of his. “You know,” he says, leaning in closer as you both watch Minghao attempt a ridiculous fencing stance in the distance, “it only makes sense. After all, you’ve been hiding our swords with the tulips. I think ‘Tulip’ suits you.”
At first, you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance, but there’s a warmth in your chest at how easily he’s assigned you such a tender nickname. 
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One particularly warm afternoon, your mother summons you to help her with the flowerbeds, a chore you reluctantly take on. The sun beats down, the heat pressing into your skin and the earth beneath your fingers, while the scent of soil and fresh blossoms hangs thick in the air. You sigh, resigning yourself to the tedious task when, suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.
“Ah, the fair lady in her noble endeavor!” Seokmin’s voice rings out, full of his usual playful grandeur. He strides through the garden gate, sweeping an imaginary cape behind him with exaggerated flair. His smile is as bright as the sun itself, lighting up the whole space. “Fear not, for I shall be your loyal squire in this quest for botanical beauty!”
Despite your earlier annoyance, a reluctant smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. Seokmin has a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel like an adventure. You watch as he bounds toward you, his movements light and full of energy. With an exaggerated show of determination, he rolls up his sleeves, pretending to prepare for battle. The weight of the day feels lighter already.
Together, the two of you dig your hands into the soil, your fingers dirty and the air filled with the soft rustling of the leaves around you. Laughter bubbles up between the two of you, mingling with the breeze as Seokmin’s animated voice brings life to the still afternoon. As you plant flower after flower, he regales you with tales of his fencing matches at Eton, his voice lively, arms waving dramatically to mimic the grand duels he’s fought.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” he says with mock gravity, “this boy was at least twice my size, and I won the match with nothing but clever footwork and a flick of the wrist!” He pantomimes the move, his arm cutting through the air like a sword.
You laugh, shaking your head at his theatrical retelling, the tension of the task dissolving with every story. It’s impossible not to get caught up in his enthusiasm. “Is that so?” you tease, barely holding back a grin.
“I daresay, footwork in fencing is quite the advantageous skill,” Seokmin says, dropping to his knees beside you with faux-seriousness, inspecting the flowerbed as though it holds the secrets to the universe. “If one can move with the grace of a dancer, one can—”
Just as he gestures again, his elbow brushes against your arm, and suddenly, time seems to slow. The lighthearted atmosphere is pierced by a spark, a ripple of warmth that travels through you. Both of you freeze, his eyes widening in surprise. His cheeks flush a light pink as he quickly pulls back, his confidence faltering for a brief second.
“My sincerest apologies,” he stammers, the usual brightness in his voice now tinged with uncharacteristic bashfulness. He resumes his work, his fingers trembling slightly as they sift through the soil. The warmth of the sun suddenly pales in comparison to the heat between you.
“It’s quite all right,” you reply, your voice shaky, your heartbeat far more rapid than you’d like. “Just... gardening, after all.” You try for casualness, but the words sound ridiculous even to your own ears, given the charged air lingering between you.
Moments later, you stand to stretch, hoping to shake off the strange energy that has settled over the both of you. Seokmin leans in to grab a nearby tool, and his shoulder brushes against yours again—this time, the contact lingers for just a second too long. The heat of it sends another jolt through you, making your heart stutter.
You gasp, startled by the unfamiliar sensation, your breath hitching. The warmth spreads from your chest down to your fingertips, a strange, foreign feeling you can’t quite name.
“Goodness! I beg your pardon again,” Seokmin says quickly, his sheepish smile returning, though this time it’s softer, more hesitant. His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place. “It seems I have a propensity for unintentional collisions today.”
That smile—it makes your chest tighten. His presence, usually a source of comfort, now awakens something new within you, something unsettling yet undeniable. Gardening, once nothing but a mundane chore, has transformed into something far more intimate with Seokmin by your side. The flowerbeds seem to flourish under his laughter, vibrant blooms swaying as if they, too, revel in the joy of the moment.
But that foreign sensation? You tuck it deep into your mind, burying it along with the seeds you’ve planted, afraid to decode what it could mean. After all, this is Seokmin—your friend, your constant. And yet, the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin longer than it should, as if it’s quietly asking you to look closer.
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My Dearest Seokmin,
I hope this letter finds you in moments of solace amidst the tumult of your recent loss. It is with a heavy heart that I pen these words, having heard of your father’s passing. The news struck me with such a weight, as though the very air around me had grown thick with sorrow. I cannot begin to fathom the grief you must be experiencing, yet please know that my thoughts and prayers are ever with you during this difficult time.
Your father was a remarkable man, a beacon of kindness and integrity, and his absence will undoubtedly leave a profound void in the hearts of all who had the privilege of knowing him. I remember fondly the stories you shared, of his wisdom and warmth, which have clearly shaped the exceptional person you have become. His legacy, I have no doubt, will endure through you.
With his passing, I know you now bear the title of Duke. While this new responsibility may feel daunting, I have every confidence you will honor his legacy with the same grace and strength he embodied. I want you to remember that you are not alone. I am here, dear friend, steadfast and unwavering, ready to support you as you navigate this uncharted territory.
I eagerly await the day when I can see your smile again, and we can talk about the flowers in the garden, just as we always have.
With all my love and deepest sympathies,Y/N
My Dearest Tulip,
Your letter brought me a flicker of light amidst the shadows that have enveloped me since my father’s passing. It is a solace to know that you, too, share in my grief, and your words resonate deeply within me, reminding me that I am not alone in this turbulent sea of sorrow.
Thank you for your kind remembrance of my father. He often spoke of you with such fondness, and knowing how he impacted your life brings me a measure of comfort. His lessons of kindness and integrity remain etched in my heart, and I strive to honor his legacy in every decision I make as Duke. It is a weight I carry with both pride and trepidation, yet the knowledge of your unwavering support gives me strength.
Though this season feels uncharted and daunting, your friendship is a cherished constant. I, too, long for the day when we can stroll through the gardens, exchanging thoughts about the flowers and sharing laughter, just as we once did. Until then, I will hold onto the warmth of your words and the memories we’ve created.
With heartfelt gratitude and affection,Seokmin
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Age 16: 
When Seokmin and Minghao return home the next spring, it’s clear that Seokmin carries more than just the usual joy and liveliness he always brings with him. A new weight settles over him, one you haven’t seen before. The responsibility of the Dukedom starts to bear down on him, heavy as the cloak he will one day wear. His laugh remains bright, his smile still warm, but there’s something different now—an unspoken awareness that the carefree boy of the past is slowly giving way to the man he is becoming.
He has grown taller, his limbs long and strong, and the way he carries himself now commands attention. The once-boyish face is now defined, the angle of his jaw sharper, while his arms, corded with muscles, show the signs of hard work and training. It’s as if each inch he’s gained has come with a newfound strength, and when he meets your gaze, his eyes hold a certain seriousness, as if he is seeing everything with a fresh perspective.
The easy rhythm of your old routines stays intact—Minghao teasing you until you yell, Seokmin’s booming laughter echoing across the fields, and the reprimands from your mother when your playful shouts interrupt her afternoon peace. It all feels the same, yet beneath it all, you know things are changing.
On one such afternoon, you discover their practice swords—once lost and forgotten—buried haphazardly in the flowerbed among your mother’s beloved tulips. You pull them free with a gasp, the soil still clinging to the metal, and when you bring them to Seokmin, he chuckles, the sound a little sadder than you remember.
“Well,” he says, wiping the dirt from the hilt, “seems like even the tulips want to keep us from growing up too fast, eh, Tulip?”
Despite the weight of responsibility that now shadows him, he still calls you “Tulip.” The name slips easily from his lips, playful and tender, a thread that ties your past to the present. The quiet nickname carries the bittersweet truth: your days of carefree adventures and playful banter are slowly fading, giving way to the responsibilities of adulthood. And while the world around you shifts, that name—whispered in secret—feels like a promise that some part of him, some part of both of you, will always stay the same.
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My dearest Tulip, 
It is with a heart full of sorrow that I write to you, upon receiving the most distressing news regarding your father’s passing. The world seems dimmer without him, and my thoughts are consumed with the weight of your grief. I wish I could be there, to hold your hand and share in the memories of a man who undoubtedly brought so much light into your life.
When the silence envelops you, when the days stretch long and heavy with unshed tears, know that I am here for you. You need not wear a mask of strength; I shall not expect it. Life has a way of changing in an instant, and though we are thrust into roles we may not be prepared for, there remains solace in companionship.
Please remember, my dear friend, you are not alone in this journey. I stand with you, ready to lend my support and share in whatever you need.
With the utmost affection,Seokmin
My dearest Seokmin, 
Your letter reached me at a time when silence has settled heavily over the estate, wrapping around us like a shroud. It feels as though the laughter that once danced through these halls has been swallowed by a void, leaving behind a hushed emptiness. My mother, once so vibrant, now moves about with an air of resignation, her spirit dimmed as if she carries the weight of the world upon her shoulders. The joy that once bloomed within her seems to have withered, and even the flowers in the garden appear to droop, their colors muted in sympathy for our grief.
I often find myself worrying for Minghao. The new title of duke weighs upon him like a heavy cloak, and I fear that the responsibilities thrust upon him will change him in ways I cannot yet understand. I can only imagine the burden he feels, trying to uphold our father's legacy while grappling with the uncertainties of leadership. It frightens me to think of how this shift may alter our relationship, how he might feel compelled to step into a role that distances him from the brother I’ve always known. I fear I may lose him just as I have lost my father.
Yet, amid this uncertainty, your words bring me a flicker of comfort. The knowledge that you stand with me during this turbulent time is a balm for my spirit. I long for your return, for the laughter and warmth that you bring.
Until then, I hold your friendship close to my heart, a gentle reminder that even in the darkest of times, I am not alone.
With all my affection,Y/N
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Age 17: 
At the onset of spring, when Minghao and Seokmin return to the estate, the world feels subtly transformed. The air is perfumed with the scent of blooming flowers, yet there’s an unmistakable weight in the atmosphere, a quiet acknowledgment of the changes that accompany their new titles. As dukes, both acquire an aura of responsibility that overshadows the playful ease they once share.
The lighthearted teasing that characterizes your interactions is now less frequent, often replaced by a more thoughtful camaraderie. It’s as though their titles impose a certain decorum upon them, one that even the most mischievous of spirits cannot easily shake off. Their laughter, while still present, bears the faintest echo of seriousness that wasn’t there before.
Yet, despite this change, you find immense joy in their company, particularly when they engage in spirited sparring sessions in the training yard. As wooden swords clash and echo, it’s impossible not to feel a thrill at the sight of them—two young gentlemen, once boys, now embodying a gravity that demands respect even in their play.
The matches become a spectacle, each clash of wooden swords accompanied by shouts and laughter that echo through the estate. You perch on the sidelines, an amused spectator, as Seokmin and Minghao banter playfully between bouts. “You call that a strike?” Seokmin teases, deftly dodging your brother’s advance with a lightness that seems almost effortless. “I’ve seen more ferocity from a kitten!”
Minghao rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth betraying a grin despite his best efforts to maintain an air of dignity. “One day, Seokmin, you shall learn that mocking your opponent is a perilous game.”
You perch on the sidelines, unable to stifle the laughter bubbling forth at their antics. Each exchange between them is a delightful dance, weaving a tapestry of shared history and unspoken affection. Yet, as you watch, you cannot help but feel a twinge of wistfulness; the exuberance of their banter now seems to emerge from a place tinged with nostalgia.
The sun dips low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the training yard; both young gentlemen wield their wooden swords with a fervor that sends a thrill through the onlookers. You remain at a distance, your heart pounding in rhythm with each clash of wood, an exhilaration mingled with unease coursing through you.
Seokmin, with his characteristic bravado, flashes a teasing grin as he engages your brother. “Come now, my lord! Surely you can do better than that!” The laughter in his voice rings like a bell, though you can’t help but feel a knot of apprehension tighten in your chest.
As the match continues, you find yourself transfixed by Seokmin’s agile movements, the way he dances about the training yard with a carefree spirit. However, just as you begin to relax, a delicate butterfly flits past, capturing Seokmin’s attention momentarily. It is in this fleeting distraction that your brother seizes his opportunity, lunging forward with surprising speed.
“Seokmin!” you cry out, the word escaping your lips before you can restrain it. Time seems to elongate as you watch, breathless, as Seokmin turns just in time to evade the wooden sword’s path. He stumbles slightly, regaining his balance as he casts a quick glance your way, surprise etched upon his handsome features.
With your heart racing, you dash to his side, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Are you quite well?” The urgency in your voice is unmistakable, for the thought of his injury sends a chill through you.
“Indeed, I am unharmed,” he replies, though the forced joviality of his laugh belies the tension of the moment. “Merely caught off guard, I assure you.”
Yet your heart refuses to calm. “You cannot be so reckless! What if you had been injured?” The fervor of your concern envelops you, and you see a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes as he steps closer, the air between you thick with a burgeoning intimacy. That same foreign sensation – the one from years ago when he had brushed against you in the gardens – ignites within you, one you had tucked away and kept hidden, rearing its head in this moment of vulnerability.
“Thank you, Tulip, for your ever-present concern for my well-being,” he murmurs, his voice lowered as he meets your gaze, the world around you fading into an indistinct haze. Just then, Minghao loudly clears his throat, and Seokmin drops his eyes, a bashful blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.
You step away, embarrassed, your heart pounding against your ribcage.
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Minghao corners you in the gardens that night, the cool summer breeze brushing against your skin as you take a walk, seeking solace from the tempest of thoughts swirling in your mind. The encounter with Seokmin lingers like a gentle whisper, an unsettling mixture of warmth and confusion that dances at the edges of your consciousness, teasing you with emotions you struggle to understand.
“Sister,” he begins, his voice so soft that you nearly startle. In an instant, he presses a hand against your mouth, his finger raised in a quiet plea for silence. “It’s only me, Y/N. I fear you’ll wake the entire estate.”
“It’s your fault for skulking about the gardens like a common thief!” you whisper back, fiercely. “What on earth could possibly require such urgent discussion that you couldn’t grant me one night of peace?”
His expression grows serious, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You must be careful, sister,” he admonishes, and in that moment, he seems less like your brother and more like the Duke of Somerset—tall, proud, and formidable. “There are whispers… about you and Seokmin.”
“Whispers? Whatever do you mean?” You search his face for clarification, anxiety bubbling within you.
Minghao shakes his head as if dismissing the very idea of this conversation. A wave of indignation washes over you, eager to burst forth. He may be only two years your elder, yet he still insists on treating you like a child. “Your debut into society draws near,” he continues, his voice measured and resolute. “You mustn’t jeopardize it.”
“But Minghao—” you begin, but he raises a hand, silencing you with a mere gesture.
“Listen. You know how these things unfold. A mere hint of impropriety could tarnish your reputation. I don’t want you to suffer from the kind of gossip that twists the truth.” His tone softens, revealing a hint of genuine concern that pierces through your indignation. “I only want what’s best for you.”
You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “I am not a child anymore,” you protest, the tremor in your voice betraying a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. “I am capable of making my own choices.”
“Perhaps,” he replies, his eyes steady and unwavering. “But I have a responsibility to protect you, Y/N. I don’t wish to stifle your spirit, but you must grasp the implications of your actions.”
The night air grows thick with unspoken sentiments, and as the stars twinkle overhead like mischievous spectators, you grapple with the tumult in your heart. There’s something about Seokmin that sends ripples of confusion coursing through you, a fluttering sensation that stirs your chest whenever his name crosses your mind. You do not fully comprehend what it is, but it’s undeniably present—a flicker of something more, leaving you teetering on the precipice of feelings you are not yet ready to confront.
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My dearest Seokmin, 
As I sit here with this pen in hand, I find myself quite at a loss. The arrival of my debut looms on the horizon, and while I am certainly filled with anticipation, I must confess that trepidation dances in my chest, quite uninvited. The notion of standing before an audience of peers—well-bred and well-mannered—fills me with an unease I cannot quite articulate. Will my words tumble forth in a jumbled mess? Or worse, will they fall on deaf ears?
I cannot shake the dreadful thought that I may never find a match. What if I enter that grand ballroom, adorned in my finest gown, and am met with indifference? Will the charming suitors twirl past me, whisking away others while I stand, forgotten, on the periphery? The idea sends a shiver down my spine, as I fear I may spend the evening watching the festivities unfold without me.
As I consider the expectations that accompany my debut, I can’t help but reflect on how you and Minghao have gracefully embraced your new roles as dukes. You carry the weight of your responsibilities with such elegance, while I find myself yearning to flourish in a world that feels daunting. Will I, too, be able to navigate this landscape of expectation and propriety, or will I falter under its weight?
Forgive my ramblings, dear friend. I suppose I am merely hoping for reassurance, a kind word from you. Perhaps if I know you will be there—your presence a familiar balm—I might muster the courage to dance and revel in the splendor of the evening.
With warmest regards and hopeful heart,Your Tulip
My Dearest Tulip,
Your recent letter has landed in my hands like a most delightful spring breeze, though I must confess it carries with it a hint of unease that quite unnerves me. How is it that my steadfast friend, who has faced the world with such spirited determination, now frets over the prospects of the ballroom?
First and foremost, allow me to put your mind at ease. The mere thought of you standing in that grand ballroom, adorned in the finest gown, is enough to illuminate the dimmest of corners. Your charm will be as radiant as the most exquisite of chandeliers, drawing the gaze of all who are fortunate enough to cross your path. I assure you, the gentlemen will hardly be able to focus on anything—or anyone—else.
Now, I cannot let this opportunity pass without a bit of teasing – regarding your step upon my toes during our lessons –  I daresay I must bring up a rather amusing memory. I cannot help but recall how you sent both Minghao and me reeling across the room, much like a pair of wayward marionettes! One can only hope that with age comes grace—or at the very least, a better sense of foot placement! If not, I shall be prepared to don the most resilient shoes in all of England.
Worry not, dear Tulip. I shall be by your side the entire season, if you shall have me (although, I am not entirely certain your dear brother will be entirely pleased by this idea). 
Your most loyal servant,Seokmin
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Dearest Sister, 
As I sit at my desk, I cannot help but feel a mixture of pride and exasperation as I pen this letter. Our infrequent exchanges have become quite the tradition, have they not? I find it amusing that as your brother, I am often left to await your words while Seokmin is constantly regaled by your stories. 
With your debut looming closer, I feel it is my solemn duty as both your brother and your Duke to remind you of the delicate nature of polite society. Your debut is not merely an occasion to don a gown and curtsy to the queen; it is a rite filled with expectations and decorum. I implore you to be mindful of the company you keep and the propriety that is expected of you as a young lady and the sister of the Duke. I have taken it upon myself to speak to Seokmin, warning him of the same – he has a habit of forgetting his own station in moments of levity. 
While I know you must find these constraints stifling, know that the eyes of the ton will soon be upon you, not only assessing your beauty but also your character. You are the jewel of our family, and I trust you will shine brightly, even amidst these expectations. 
Write to me when you can, dear sister, even if it is infrequent. Your musings are treasures to your dear elder brother, and I await them constantly. 
With all my love, Minghao
Dearest Brother, 
I say this with the utmost love and devotion:
Damn you. 
(Please forgive my language, and please, do not show this letter to Mama. I fear her admonishments may never end if she hears of my vernacular)
I am acutely aware of the expectations that accompany my debut – how could I forget when both you and Mama loom over me like a pair of hawks? While I recognize your intentions, your words do little to alleviate my anxiety. 
Your warning regarding Seokmin only serves to make me laugh. It is amusing, truly, to envision the Duke of Lancaster being chided by my brother on the virtues of propriety. I promise to keep my wits about me and to present myself with all the elegance expected of a young lady of my station (the sister of a Duke, no less!). 
I will do my utmost to avoid a scandal – or at the very least, I shall ensure that you do not hear of it. I shall write again soon, if only to unleash more of my exasperation upon you. 
Yours, in (implied) rebellion, Y/N (Sister of the Duke of Somerset)
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Age 18: 
On the eve of your debut, you find yourself seated on the swing in the garden of the Somerset townhome, the night cloaked in an almost palpable tension. The sounds of Mayfair filter through the stillness—a symphony of distant laughter, the soft clatter of carriages, and the occasional rustle of silk skirts—as the ton settles into slumber. The air feels electric, crackling with anticipation, as if the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for the events of the morrow to unfold.
You take a deep drag from the cigarette you swiped from Minghao’s rooms, the smoke spiraling into the night like a fleeting thought. With each inhale, you hope to drown out the anxious fluttering of your heart, a dissonant rhythm that accelerates at the mere thought of tomorrow’s debut.
“Why, Lady Xu Y/N, are you smoking?” The voice breaks through your reverie, causing you to sputter and cough, hastily attempting to conceal the cigarette behind your back. You turn to see Seokmin, leaning casually against the sturdy oak tree that secures the swing, his figure silhouetted against the moonlight.
His presence is both familiar and disarming, the boyish charm of his smile juxtaposed against the weight of his title. “No, Seokmin, I—” you stammer, flustered.
“Shove over,” he commands lightly, and before you can protest, he plucks the cigarette from your frozen grip, taking a deep, leisurely drag. The sight of him—so confident, so carefree—sets your heart racing in a way that both delights and terrifies you.
“What on earth are you doing here?” you ask incredulously, half-exasperated, half-amused.
“I was with your brother at White’s,” he replies, amusement dancing in his eyes. “It was my mistake to forget how little he can imbibe before devolving into an utter fool. I was merely making sure he returned home safely.” His tone shifts, curiosity sparkling in his gaze. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”
“Excited? Hardly,” you grumble, kicking at the scattered rocks beneath your feet. “What my heart truly desires is to run away—pack my things, flee to Paris, and open a quaint little bookstore. Perhaps live out my days as a spinster, surrounded by novels and solitude.”
Seokmin’s expression shifts, a shadow of understanding passing across his features. “We cannot always have what our hearts desire,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow as he exhales a plume of smoke. “Sometimes, we must accept that we can find happiness in what we have, not in what could have been.”
You watch the smoke dance and dissipate into the night sky, thoughts swirling as restlessly as the tendrils of fog around you.
“And you?” you ask quietly, the question escaping before you can catch it. “What does your heart desire?”
“Desired,” he corrects, taking another deep drag. “I once dreamed of being a fencer, of dueling beneath the sun. But above all, I yearned to find love.”
Your heart stutters at his admission. His thigh brushes against yours, an electric touch that feels so scandalously intimate you can hardly breathe. You suddenly become acutely aware of the nightgown you wear, the thin fabric doing little to shield you from the heat radiating from his body. If Minghao were to catch you in this moment, you are certain he would demand that Seokmin either marry you on the spot or duel him for your honor.
The very thought sends a shiver down your spine—an improper thought that both terrifies and thrills you. You are a young lady, poised to make your debut, and here you are, perched so closely to an eligible duke, the expectations of the ton looming like a dark cloud. What would society say if they were to discover you in this clandestine moment? The whispers would be deafening, your reputation in tatters, and yet… the thrill of it, the danger, pulls at you like a siren's song.
“And you believe you shall never find it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
“I am a Duke, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it barely pierces the night air. “Duty must come first. If there is any part of me left, which there rarely is, only then can I pursue love.”
The distance between you feels both impossibly vast and achingly close, the weight of his words pressing against you like an invisible force. You can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the unspoken longing that mirrors your own.
You hum, encouraging him to continue, yet the weight of his words presses down on your chest.
“But how fortunate am I,” he continues, his gaze piercing through the night like a beacon, “to have found such a remarkable friend who stands by me even as duty threatens to drown me where I stand.”
A friend. The word lingers between you, heavy and loaded. Is that truly all he sees you as? The realization sends your mind reeling, your heart racing in an entirely different way.
No, the trees whisper, urging you to reconsider.
Could it be…love?
That foreign sensation, long buried beneath layers of propriety and friendship, now unfurls within you, roots taking hold. You realize with a start that you have loved Seokmin, perhaps from that very first kiss on your hand all those years ago, long before you could articulate the feelings swirling in your heart.
Panic courses through you, and you leap up from the swing as if it has burned you. “It is late, Lord Lee. I must take my leave now,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “I hope you find your way home safely.”
He reaches out, his hand brushing against your wrist, and your breath hitches at the contact. “Wait,” he says, his voice low, almost laced with concern. “Are you alright? You seem... distant.”
His eyes search yours, and you feel the weight of his gaze, an anchor that both comforts and terrifies you. Your pulse quickens, a frantic rhythm echoing in your ears. What would it mean to linger here a moment longer, to let the night wrap around you like a cocoon?
But all the books you’ve read offer no preparation for the heartache that comes with knowing he regards you as merely a friend. A friend, just like your brother. You are his friend, and the shattering realization settles in: he will never love you back.
“Tulip?” he adds softly, the word a whisper that brushes against your skin like the wind.
You swallow hard, every part of you aching to give in, to lean into the connection pulsing between you. But the truth looms like a storm cloud overhead, dark and inevitable.
You love Lord Lee Seokmin, Duke of Lancaster, but he will never love you.
And with that heavy knowledge weighing on your heart, you turn to leave, every step toward your room feeling like a betrayal to the emotions simmering just beneath the surface. 
You don’t sleep at all, thoughts consumed by a boy you had once known and the man you now love. 
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Tagging: @kibs-and-bits @moondustmemories @shinwonderful @ivehypnosis @gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13
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therandompagesblog · 3 days ago
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Hunting Your Soul Chapter 6 🫀Y/N🫀
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Trigger Warnings: Stalking, manipulation, self pleasure, orgasm
Could a stalker be seen as sweet? Caring? Attentive? Or, were these things I imagined as the days went on? Chan's nature had changed. He was filled less with riddles and more with statements. Statements of truth. He was going to take me. I knew that much. I knew I was going to be turned into a monster that lived in the darkness. When, was my question, but he never answered. Chan always answered my other questions. My questions about his feelings toward me. They were vague yet unexplainable. He always referred to me as his. That I was meant to be his. That my heart was his. It was an animalistic description. One that frightened me but didn't. Every time I was frightened or worried he would mask it with care. Kindness. Chan never directly spoke to me. Only through words on a screen. Otherwise, he would shower me with gifts. Flowers, pyjamas, iced cinnamon buns. It was a generational romance. Texting. Never to be seen. I hated it. I hated the waiting game. I wanted to see him. I wanted to see what he looked like. I wanted to see his cold gaze, pressing into me. I wanted him to consume me. Feed off me. They were stupid desires. Reckless even. They were thoughts and feelings I gained over the course of three days. Three pitiful days and I was craving him. The only nuisance was he slept during the day. It was Inconvenient for me and I wanted him to know that. I wanted him to pay for it. Pay for the ways he was making me feel. I wanted to play his game. Me: I want to hear your voice. Chan: If you're a good little flower for me. I will. Me: Fine. I'll suffer then. Chan: Careful with that attitude. I have to work today. Be patient.
I rolled my eyes in frustration hitting the bed. I was annoyed at myself. At him for making me feel this way. I should feel sickened, but I wasn't. Chan gave me no reason to. The only thing he did was text, call or watch. He wasn't really stalking either. He was too quiet to be a stalker. Too quiet. Too careful. He was harmless in the eyes of the law. A report would do nothing to him. He was untraceable. He wasn't even real. If I did report him, the police would tell me they could not do anything until something happened. Until the harassment escalated. I could report his number, but all Chan would have to do was get another and he would still keep texting. Calling. But if he was a monster, then he was invincible. He was deadly. Very deadly. And right now that was hot. And I was hormonally hot. It was despicable yet erotic to have a watcher. It was something that kept my mind preoccupied as I started to have sick fantasies. Fantasies about his deep voice. The voice that burned into my soul. Fantasies of his touch and the way he would feel. It was already a catastrophic downfall. I was damned for him and I did not care. I did not care in the way I wanted him to suffer too. I wanted him to feel my frustration at his lack of communication. His lack of verbal communication. His lack of physical communication. His–his lack of presence. I shuddered at the thought of meeting him soon. My body shivered at the thought of his face. His touch. I wondered more about his musky smell. I wanted to smell him again. Throwing my head back with a sigh. I closed my eyes, thinking about faceless hands. Touching me. Guiding me softly. I wondered if the monster had fangs or claws. Or both. Would they cut into my body deep or scratch the surface? My body was starting to get hot as I thought about the blank kisses trailing across my skin. An irrational thought crept across my mind. I wanted to phone him. Force him to listen to my arousal like he forced my emotions to yearn for him. It was a sick and twisted idea but my hormones were everywhere, and considering he stole my tampons. A little moan was the icing on a sweet cinnamon bun. My hand found its way into my trousers. Slowly touching myself as I felt my body getting hotter. I reached for my bedside to grab my silicone vibrator and turned it on. I allowed the vibrating sensations to toy against my clothed folds. My back arched as I pressed harder against my clothed clit, thrashing. I stopped. Smirking to myself as I looked at my reflection. I took my clothes off and spread myself open. Open for him. A stranger. I pressed the toy against my clit. Circling slowly as my hand reached for my phone. I slid the toy across my folds. Then back up to my sensitive bud. I thrashed. Whimpering away. I looked at my phone. Clicking on Chan's number. His phone went straight to voicemail. The beep sent my devious arousal into new heights. "Chan... Ch-chan." I whimpered loudly. Louder than I normally would. I clicked the button. Speeding it up as I arched myself. Allowing the state of bliss to watch over me. Then it came. The dread. The fear. I fucked up. I incredibly fucked up. I could feel it deep within my warm bones as I waited for him.
18+ Taglist for those who are not turning back
@catlove83 @itsyourleilei @whatudowhennooneseesyou @leeknot @estella-novella @fackeraccount @eastjonowhere @cocofia143 @jennibahng @noerinspace @sleepingmissingprincess @ye0lkkot @hiitsmebbygrl16 @shhimhereforsmut @jaeminie-cricket @stayceebs97 @ritiiiiiii @chlodavids @beautystarry @hyunjinhoexxx @hash2013 @jeonginontopforever @catnipchannie @kaqua @fairy-lixie @myflowercloud @galaxy4489 @velvetmoonlght
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whatdoidosatoru · 20 hours ago
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meddle about
sebastian/fem!farmer | ao3 you can't stare at him while he's on stage without expecting him to offer to take you back to his house and meddle about, right?
wc: 4224 cw: smut, cunnìlingus, unprotected sex, mean sebastian, bratty reader, creampìe inspired by: pajamakidz on tiktok | 18+ | minors do not interact |
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the music was vibrating in my chest.
i repeatedly cursed myself for forgetting the damn earplugs, but they had said it would just be a little, quickly put-together gig. sam was so sweet, inviting me in person instead of relying on the posters he had put up around pelican town, making sure i knew when to get to the bus stop. 
“make sure you're there by 4,” he had said with an excited smile on his face, “or we'll leave without you.”
now, several hours after we'd all bumped along the long stretch of road to zuzu city (all of us apart from sebastian, who apparently insisted on taking his motorcycle), i stood in a crowd bigger than i’d expected, shoulders bare as i tied my shirt around my waist.
it got stuffier as the evening went on, band after band filled the stage with their energy and music, the goblin destroyer already having finished their set. sam found me in the crowd, already pumped with adrenaline after strumming the guitar and singing their first ever set. 
he excitedly shouted into my ear, something about the band currently playing on the stage, gesturing wildly with his hands, but i couldn’t follow. not fully, anyway. sebastian stood next to him with a somewhat bored expression on his face, taking the finished cigarette and dropping it to the ground where he stepped on it with the heel of his shoe. 
“...do you want one?” sam poked my bare shoulder, expecting me to answer, but i hadn’t even heard the question. 
“what?” i shouted back, getting on my tiptoes to reach his ear.
“getting a beer, you want one?”
i shook my head, waving as he did a thumbs-up with both his hands before turning and starting towards the bar. sebastian stayed. i looked around to locate abigail, but she was excitedly talking to some people from the neighbouring village. i got on my tiptoes again, getting closer to sebastian so i didn’t have to shout too much.
“your set was really good.” i was so close i could smell his cologne mixed with sweat. his head dipped lower, reaching my shoulder with his warm breath as he spoke.
“thanks, hope it wasn’t our last.”
just as i was about to chuckle and respond saying it was just the beginning, that the goblin destroyer were just beginning their ride to glory, i felt his hand snake around my waist. he held me, a little taken aback, but mostly just blushing with how forward it was for his usual self. different. kind of like the way he swayed me with him, kind of to the rhythm of the current song. 
“seb…” i didn’t say it loud enough for him to hear, too caught by surprise to be louder as my hips moved with his, slightly shifting so he stood behind me. his fingers were splayed over my hips and i swear i could feel the warmth of his hand even through my jeans.
sebastian’s chin rested against my temple and his other hand found its way to my other hip, now holding me against him a little firmer, with a little more confidence.
i cursed when the song ended, expecting him to release me, but his hands stayed put.
as the applause roared around us and the band on stage prepared to do another song, sebastian’s breath tickled my ear and i could hear him better.
“wanna come over later?”
“o-over?” i cursed at myself, realising what he had meant only after i’d already asked.
“yeah, to my place.”
my heart was beating through my throat, thumping relentlessly as i swallowed.“oh come on,” sebastian let out a chuckle against the side of my head, “did i imagine you eye-fucking me while i was on the stage?”
my heart sped up, i didn’t think i’d been that obvious, though i could hardly remember anything from their set that wasn’t the way sebastian had flicked his hair out of the way, the shape of his focused brows…
and the movement of his hands on the keyboard, the slender, deft digits caressing the keys with skill and passion–
“well?” his hands tightened on my hips, pulling me against him a liiittle tighter, it was almost embarrassing how much i enjoyed feeling him harden against my ass.
“when later?” my breath caught in my throat and i felt his chest move as he laughed.
“impatient?”
“let’s go now” i turned around, spinning out of his hold and facing him, my blushing face be damned.
i must have caught him off guard, being so eager, but damn it he was right. i had been staring at him the entire night. the entire season, actually. ever since i had first spoken to him.
without another word he pulled me towards the exit, where he’d parked the motorbike. before i’d thought it was a little pretentious of him to forgo taking the bus with the rest of us, but now i was grateful for it. i just hoped sam wouldn’t freak out when he discovered us gone…
the ride was quick and refreshing, after the stupid heat at the venue i welcomed the whipping wind with a grin on my face. i could hardly control my movements as sebastian parked and brought the bike into his garage, fumbling with the keys as he let us in. soon enough we were dashing down the stairs to his bedroom.
i wasn’t unfamiliar with his bedroom, having visited quite a few times now. I’d brought him random minerals i had found at the mines, i’d come over to play solarion chronicles, or just to hang out on the couch and read his comics while he worked. but now i saw it in a different light, or lack thereof.
in full, promising darkness, i could hardly make out the shape of his bed when he spun me around and pressed me against the door. his lips parted mine and i let him press me between the hardwood door and his warm body, the heat pulsing between us was made nearly unbearable.
so it was no surprise that sebastian reached down to the hem of my top, quickly sliding it up and off my body over my raised arms, barely breaking that searing kiss.
i’d have been perfectly happy staying against the door, had he not spun me around and dragged me to the bed. as i sat down on the edge, searching for a safe path blindly, he reached to the side and turned on the bedside lamp. it cast a gentle glow onto both our faces, helping me in the mission of getting him out of that hoodie. now topless, he crawled over me and i lay on my back on top of the slightly crumpled sheets. 
the pillow my head rested on smelled of him and i briefly imagined what it would be like waking up on that same pillow to the sight of his sleeping face. the face whose gaze was currently hungrily devouring my entire form, wondering where he was going to start unwrapping what was left of my clothes.
suddenly, those same deft fingers i had watched dance along the keys on stage were on my jeans, unbuttoning them and untying the flannel shirt that was tied around my waist. lifting my hips, i helped out by shimmying out of the offending clothes before i undid his jeans, tugging on them so he would hurry up.
i didn’t want to wait anymore, but his pace was teasing. it was building tension so high i could hardly fit more of it into my throat before having to let out an impatient huff. he caught the sound of it and smirked, yoba it was a sinful curve that made me tug on his jeans harder.
sebastian’s hand knocked my fingers off his jeans paired with a click of his tongue. he was dead set on doing it himself, torturing me with his slow movements. finally, he was left only in his boxers, having slid off his jeans along with his shoes and mine. there was a little wet patch on his boxers, right where his leaking tip pressed against them, achingly hard, constricted, and begging for air. 
he caught me looking down his chest, stomach, that little patch of dark hair trailing underneath the waistband of his boxers, and finally settling my gaze on the perfect outline of his cock. i smirked ever so slightly, entertained by the show of neediness in his boxers. sebastian only scoffed, grabbing my knee and moving it to the side to spread my legs wider.
“you’re no better, you know?” he teased, lowering his head to ghost his lips over mine while the hand not holding my leg trailed up my inner thigh, settling on the wet patch of my own. right on the sweet little panties i had innocently picked out after stepping out of the shower today, ready to go see my friends’ first ever gig.
poor past me had no idea those same panties would be rubbed in this way hours later, that they’d be pushed between my already wet folds by sebastian’s slender finger as he got them wetter, gliding up and down to collect my slick on them.
the way sebastian trailed that finger up and down my wet slit made for gently stimulation, coaxing slow, drawn out moans from my lips only to be caught in his mouth as he brought them down to kiss me again. he swallowed every single needy sound, fueling them more and more as he pressed a little firmer against my clothed clit.
i reached up into his hair, tangling my fingers into those strands that he had always flicked away from his eyes, always fussed with despite the fact that they were obviously covering his face on purpose. 
his hand tightened its grip on my leg when i tugged on his hair, his breath vibrated in my mouth. this is it, i thought, this is how i break you.
almost as if he sensed my feeling of victory over his composure, he pulled away from the kiss and stopped rubbing my pussy to wipe the string of saliva that connected our lips. his self-control didn’t last long, for he immediately continued kissing, only not my lips, leaving them to let out small gasps and huffs of pleasure while i was still holding onto his hair and making myself believe i was guiding him at all.
sebastian’s lips grazed my skin as he trailed them down to my breasts, slowly taking my bra off by sliding his hands under my back to unbuckle it surprisingly skillfully. one nipple soon found its way into his mouth, being warmed by his breath and toyed with his tongue, while the other was under gentle care of his thumb and index finger. 
the way he played my body like his damn instrument had me lifting my hips up, searching for any kind of friction, anything to help me relieve some of the pressure building in my abdomen. it was thrumming, loud and violent in my body, but he took his damn time. this is it, i thought, this is how you break me.
it seemed to amuse him greatly, my blatant want and inability to get satisfied quickly. he let out deep chuckles against my nipple, popping it out of his lips with a wet sound before he could continue down my body over the tingling skin, leaving fiery patches as he kissed and bit my flesh.
both his hands were finally on my body, holding my hips down and preventing me from bucking them upwards, though not for lack of trying. i struggled against his grip, desperate for more while he seemingly found immense enjoyment in watching me unravel on his bed.
i kept tugging on his hair, kept making him gasp against my warming skin while he made his way to where he would inevitably stop just to piss me off. those eyes lifted and stared right into my soul, looked at my pitiful expression, lips parted, eyes glossy, skin so flushed. leaving one last kiss right under my navel, he had some mercy on me.
his lips parted and pressed against my clothed pussy, his tongue ran up and down my already wet garment, slicking it with his saliva more, sucking against it and humming to vibrate my needy skin. still, he wouldn’t let me lift my hips, still he held me down against the bed, prolonging my efforts at grinding my cunt on his face.
“s-so meaaaan” i whined out, tugging on his hair to try and pull him closer against me, curling my toes in frustration.
“you haven’t seen mean yet,” he vibrated the air between his wet lips and my unfortunately clothed pussy, “i can be worse.”
the smirk he wore got me groaning in frustration, but it clearly wouldn’t help me get what i wanted. he wanted to play dirty, to have me on edge until i pleaded for him, to reduce me to a puddle that he could lap up with that warm tongue.
“but you’re right, it’s not fair.” sebastian’s fingers hooked under my panties and he slid them down. i was so damn relieved that my breathing got faster, i moaned at the very feeling of air on my wet folds that he dove right into.
parting them with his tongue, he pressed it flat against my clit, gently licking up and down and releasing my hips. as soon as his hands left my body i lifted myself off the bed, grinding up into his face, tugging his hair, whining, moaning, cursing. it was the sweet release that i’d been waiting for.
somehow, he let me use his mouth, he willingly went along with my movements, at the same time taking his boxers off. now he was matching the pace of my hips against his face with the movement of his own hips against the bed.
suddenly, just as my whimpers got louder, as my fingers pulled on his hair tighter, he closed his mouth around my pulsating clit and sucked harder. that simple action coaxed a pretty whine from my pouty lips as i came, thighs shaking around his head, pressing together dangerously as he let me squeeze his face with them. using his tongue, sebastian led me through the orgasm, lapping up all my juices carefully, making sure not to spill anything.
fuck, the wet noises of his mouth mixed with the moans from my mouth caused my head to spin. i could just lie there like that for the next few hours, had i not wanted to feel him inside of me. he was the same, for with another, almost gentle, kiss to my pussy he crawled over to kiss me on the mouth, slipping his tongue to glide against mine, letting me taste myself on his lips.
i pulled him closer, drinking in the mix of his saliva and my juices, pulling his entire body against mine and wrapping a leg around his waist, grinding up to feel his hardened cock grind against my sopping cunt.
“i’m feelin’ mean again” he whispered against my lips, breathing into them before once again kissing hungrily, “wasn’t done making you beg.”
in response i whined and pulled his body closer, desperately trying to grab onto him to not let him pull away and torture me again. sebastian chuckled, lifting his torso up despite the nails that i dragged down his back, and settled between my thighs once again. instead of keeping the distance from me, he spread my legs again, holding them apart as he got closer, resting his cock between my folds.
he started to move, grazing my clit with the underside of his shaft, making me lift my hips with every thrust, but in vain, as i got no friction from it. this time it wasn’t just my noises that filled the room.
despite his own initiative to keep the teasing up, to not actually give me any relief, he was moaning as well. he let out a little whimper, instantly scrunching his face in embarrassment, probably hoping i hadn’t heard it. oh, but i heard it.
and it spurred me on to lift my hips higher.
“fuck, this wasn’t supposed t–”
“wha– what, your little p-plan not working, hm?” i teased him, finally donning a smirk on my face as he looked like it was getting harder keeping himself from just fucking me like he meant it.
“brat” he huffed out, releasing one of my legs to lead his hard cock to my entrance, gently poking into it.
sebastian hissed as his tip entered me, drawing a higher pitched moan out of me. instantly, the bastard pulled out, leaving me empty and wanting.
“looks like i’ve got a few more tricks, huh?” he was way too happy with himself, teasing my dripping cunt by only putting his damn pretty tip in and taking it out, smearing it with my wetness, spreading it down to his shaft.
“you’re sooo–”
“say please.” he interrupted me. cutting off my attempt at insulting him.
i closed my mouth, furrowing my brow as he pressed his tip against me again.
“say please and i’ll stop pulling out.”
it was a no-brainer, but my proud mind could hardly just accept the defeat. i wanted to make him fold, but here i was, spread out, teased, desperate for him to stuff me full and fuck me like i’d never felt it before.
“h-huh?” playing dumb only made him roll his eyes and bring his hand down onto my clit, gently tapping it as if making sure i was aware of my naked state.
“don’t you huh me, say please,” he rubbed my clit so slowly it was almost painful, “or the tip is all you get.”
i gritted my teeth and took a deep breath before swallowing my defiance and in my best, sweetest voice pleaded with him.
“pleeease?”
“please what?” damn bastard wanted me to beg and grovel, his smirk kept growing, kept getting more annoying, yet so damn attractive.
“please, sebastian, fuck me… properly, ‘wanna feel you all inside me, wanna… wanna cum on your dick, please.”
my pouting must have worked, because he leaned down to kiss my pout before spreading my thighs again, looking down at the needy blushed cunt spread open before him, and pushed inside me again.
he groaned and it was the most magnificent sound i’d heard. his hips bucked ever so slightly against me, but he didn’t go much further inside. barely more than the blasted tip again. once i started whining, he brought his hand down on my clit again.
“i said i wouldn’t pull out, didn’t i? damn impatient brat.” he clicked his tongue, though under all that bravado he was still trying to keep it together, his eyes betrayed it. “keep those legs open for me.”
i obeyed him, keeping my thighs comfortably open so he could keep moving between them.
once he stopped breathing so deeply, his hips moved slightly forward, giving me a little more, but not quite what i wanted. before i could let out a whine, he let a drop of saliva roll off his tongue and land on my clit. it made me hiss, but he ignored me, instead rolling my pulsating clit under his thumb.
he played me like his damn keyboard, making me sing exactly how he wanted, whimpering under his touch while he kept his tip inside me.
gently, slowly, he slid in a little deeper, making me curse and in turn getting my clit played with a little harder. sebastian let out a slow hum, as if savouring the feeling of my cunt contracting around him, squeezing him in to keep his cock inside, sucking it in, needing it.
“so damn…” he shook his head, finally meeting my eyes as he held my hips with those elegant fingers, “tight, fuck how…” with another hum he slightly pulled away, but still keeping his tip inside, as he promised.
doesn’t mean i was happy with it. my hand sought out his, so i gripped his wrist, keeping myself grounded in the moment. after a few moments he slid deeper inside again. yoba, i felt every damn vein on him, i felt it drag inside me, teasing me with that gorgeous texture. my back arched into the air. the sight excited him so much he had to slide in deeper and give me more. more, once again.
the bastard then pulled back, waited until i gave him a dissatisfied whine, and then slid fully into me.
i threw my head back on his pillow, moaning out into the dimly lit room, trying to get used to having all of him inside me. sebastian’s head dipped down low, he held me in shaky hands for a few moments until he could get enough of a grip to start moving. it was something almost sacred, the way his cock hit all my sweet spots so well. his balls slapped against my ass with light taps until he decided to speed up, his teasing be damned.
“a-ah l-like tha-at” i held onto his wrist with one hand, tightening the grip, and onto the headboard above me with the other. i sure hoped it was sturdy enough, because he kept going faster, harder. thrusting into me with heavy grunts and an occasional whimper as my body arched, getting the angle just right, getting it to make stars dance behind my closed eyelids. his voice behind my eyes looked like bright fireworks, moaning, grunting, whispering fuuck, so pretty, so sweet, filling the air with lewd noises.
“yoba, ‘m not gonna… not gonna last that lon– oh fuck…” with a voice like he was on the edge of an orgasm already, sebastian slipped nonsense between those parted lips.
only fuelling my moans further, he grabbed me tightly, wrapped his arms around my waist, and lifted my hips off the bed. oh, that was sending me into another dimension. he kept sliding in and out, so freely now as he let himself stop being so damn mean and stuffed me full, gliding in and out of my slippery cunt.
as sebastian’s thrusts lost their constant rhythm, the moans from his lips increased, now reducing him to a mess as he held me up, using me like his personal toy to ruin, using me to extinguish the fire in his abdomen and mine. i felt my thighs shake. the whines and curses from my mouth grew higher in pitch, so fucking needy for him, tightening around him, sucking him into myself.
“a-are you gonna…” i tried to enunciate, tried to speak in a normal tone, but it was pathetic.
“y-yeah i’m… are you?”
“m-mhmmmm”
feeling my lip quiver, i grabbed the sheets under me. sebastian lifted me a little higher, speeding up once again, building up a pace he could hold as he thrust inside me. but out of the blue, i cried out, gripping the sheets tightly to hold onto something solid as i tightened around him and came, shivering while he kept pumping in and out of me.
now he was cursing louder. whimpers came in between grunts, a few more rough thrusts before he groaned loudly, throwing his head back as he slowed down while emptying himself inside me. he rode out that high with his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly moving my body that was nearly limp in his hands, filling me up with his cum as it shot into me.
gently, sebastian lowered my hips back onto the bed, slowly pulling out of me. he looked at the spot where we had been connected just a minute ago, his release now slowly trickling out of it. the view must have been hypnotic, he kept looking for a few long minutes, catching his breath while my limp body lay there exhausted.
warmth was spreading into me again, from my core to my fingertips. i closed my eyes for a second. the second lasted longer than planned, since as i opened my eyes, sebastian was standing next to the bed with a wet cloth, reaching down to clean me up with gentle touches. i looked into his focused face, seeing none of that mean smirk he had worn before he let himself enjoy me. i guess in a way we broke each other.
i groaned as he moved my legs, feeling gummy under his touch. chuckling, he dropped the used cloth next to the bed and crawled carefully over me. his warm arm brought me closer, rolling me into his chest as he dragged the covers from under me and over both of us. my cheek gently rested against his chest as he turned the lamp off, once again sinking us into darkness. this time the dark felt softer, all tension from it seemed to have disappeared while his hand rubbed my back in slow circles.
“so…” i started, feeling a sly grin curling my lips, “round two?”
he snorted in laughter, coughing before sighing in disbelief.
“you’re outta your damn mind.” he paused before pressing an uncharacteristically tender kiss to the top of my head. “at least give me five minutes…”
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mvmnbnv · 3 days ago
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i hate how vi talks about herself to caitlyn like she's either inferior or straight up subservient
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because why tf does she tell her "i went behind your back"...? i could be reading way into it but ive never heard shit like that from a relationship with a healthy balance
its either in reference to a cheater in a romance, a partner whos trapped in a submissive role, or a fucking disobedient child to their parent or some shit...
she did nothing wrong by choosing jinx, and cait is definitely not in a position to judge, vi almost alludes to this too when she asks who decides who gets a second chance
vi doesnt need her permission to do shit, and she damn near makes it clear when she says that...so the phrashing of that line lowkey bothers me
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darlingdaisyfarm · 12 hours ago
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⋆. 𐙚 ˚ִֶָ mullet!stan pines x farmer's daughter!reader ♡༉‧₊˚.
honestly idk what happened i just wrote this in like 40 minutes because the idea wouldn’t leave me alone, i never write this fast sorry for the random but i love that dynamic 🤍
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Gravity Falls market days were a real mess you’d grown up in but never quite adjusted to. the sun sat high and too mean, slanting golden light across the rows of wooden stalls and voices carried sharp over the sound of shuffling feet. you didn’t mind the noise because it made the hours feel faster.
your hands worked quickly, sorting the last of the peaches into the old wicker basket, as you clearly remembered your mom’s words “don’t bruise the fruit, honey; folks don’t buy what looks spoiled.” you smoothed your palm over the fabric of your overalls, standing up straight to greet the next customer and—
he wasn’t what you expected and you weren’t sure what to make of him. broad shoulders under a faded red jacket, hands stuffed into his pockets, huge dark bags under his eyes. he looked rough, unpolished you'd say, like he’d stepped out of a life far removed from your quiet one and found himself here by accident.
he nodded toward your baskets. “how much for the peaches?”
you sized him up. “depends,” you answered. “you actually gonna pay?”
that caught him off guard, did he really look that bad? his lips twitched into grin. “didn’t know this place came with an interrogation.”
“it’s not interrogation,” you shot back, leaning against the edge of the stall. “it’s just business. besides, you look like the type to run off with free samples.”
he laughed then. “well, guess you caught me,” he held his hands up like he’d been caught red-handed. “but im starving here. what’s it gonna take to get one of—”
“ahh, you must be the scientist everyone talks about.” you interrupted him, shifting the basket awkwardly against your hip.
“uh right, that's me.”
“mom mentioned you,” you continued, even though he didn't seem in the mood for conversation. “said you were. . . weird.” the word came out of your mouth before you even realized it, and your cheeks instantly flushed. great. off to a fantastic start.
but he didn't seem offended. on the contrary, he looked amused, slightly raising his eyebrows. “weird, huh?”
“her words, not mine,” you explained quickly, though it wasn't exactly untrue. “but yeah. she said you moved out here to study something? bugs? dirt?”
he chuckled. “somethin’ like that. but im pretty hungry. so what’s it gonna take to get one of those?”
you should’ve turned him away, told him to come back with cash like everyone else. but your gut told you he’d actually gone a little too long without a decent meal. yeah, thats how bad he looked.
so you reached into the basket and handed him one.
“on the house,” you said.
he blinked at you, caught somewhere between surprise and suspicion. “seriously?”
“just this once,” you warned. “but if you come back, i expect full price.”
“aww, isn't that adorable, thank you, sweetie.” he took the peach, turning it over in his hands. “heard people here mentioning you're generous girl.”
...
the sun begins its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink as you ride your bicycle down the lonely country road. the day has been long, filled with selling farm food. your hat shields your face from the fading light, but a chill is settling in as the evening approaches.
the basket on your bike rattled with what was left of the day’s haul, less than you’d hoped for but enough to keep the house running another week. your legs ached from pedaling though. the cold was creeping in now.
when the headlights appeared behind you, cutting through the soft twilight, you almost didn’t notice. but then the car slowed, pulling up beside you and you heard the window roll down.
“need a lift?” a smoky voice asked.
it was him. Stanford. the same red jacket, the same grin. he surely hadn’t been expecting to see you but was damn happy about it anyway.
you hesitated as you looked at him and his car, tightening your hands around the handlebars. “and leave my bike?”
“throw it in the back,” he told you, jerking his thumb toward the back seat. “unless you’re real set on freezing out here.”
you glanced at the empty road stretching ahead of you, then back at Stanford. he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to offer something for nothing, but he also didn’t seem like the kind to push it if you said no.
so you nodded. Stanley gave you a reassuring smile. “hop in, toots. it's getting cold.” you let him haul the bike into the back before climbing into the passenger seat. the warmth from inside is immediate, a stark contrast to the cool evening air.
he didn’t say much at first, just flicked on the radio and kept his eyes on the road. but then, without looking over, he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to you.
“here, take this. it’s not much, but it’ll keep you warm.”
you took the fabric and when you putted it around your shoulders, you felt the softness of it against your skin, grateful for the gesture. “thank you,” it was too big, the sleeves hanging loose past your wrists, but it was so warm. although it smelled very strongly of cigarettes.
he shrugged modestly. “no problem. it’s the least i can do after the way you treated me last week.”
“so,” he said after a beat, glancing over with that same crooked grin. “what’s a farmer’s daughter doin’ out on the road this late?”
you pulled the jacket tighter around you. “work doesn’t stop just ‘cause the sun goes down.”
“hard worker, huh? guess your mom was right about you.”
you glanced at him in surprise and furrowed your brow. “you keep bringing up my mom like you actually know her.” you said suspiciously.
“ran into her a couple weeks ago,” he admitted. “she was real proud, talkin’ ‘bout how her daughter’s the backbone of the farm.”
heat rose to your cheeks and you turned your gaze back to the road. “she talks too much.”
“nah, she’s just proud of you.” this time, you stayed quiet, letting the hum of the engine carry you the rest of the way home.
...
the next time you see him, it’s at the farm on early morning, when dew still clings to the grass and the sky’s a pale, watercolor wash. you’d barely had time to start on your chores when that same old car rumbled down the dirt track.
Stanley stepped out, wearing that red jacket you’d given back last night, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “you forgot your bike.”
“you didn’t have to bring it all the way here.” you smiled shyly
“well,” he glanced around, assessing the place, “figured you could use it more than i could. besides, wasn’t much of a detour.”
in addition, it was the first time Stan met your dog as he stayed at the farm to try the freshly baked apple pie that you offered.
you were hauling a basket of fresh vegetables from the field when you heard a low, warning growl. you looked up, biting back a grin. “she won’t bite.”
“uh-huh,” Stan said, standing frozen in place as the big scruffy mutt circled him.
you set the basket down, whistling low, and your dog trotted over, tail wagging now that you’d given the all-clear. “this is Molly,” you said, ruffling her ears. “dont worry, she’s just protective.”
Stan crouched slowly, one knee to the dirt, sticking his hand out like he was afraid she might lunge. Molly sniffed him once, then pressed her head against his palm, tail thumping in approval.
“well, look at that,” he said, scratching behind her ears. his hands are so big, calloused, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. Molly leaned into his hand, letting out a pleased huff. “she likes me.”
but then Molly rolled over, flopping onto her back in the dust and he laughed. “spoiled,” he said, rubbing her belly as she wagged her tail.
“you don’t even know the half of it. she gets the best scraps off the table. mom says it’s why she’s got such shiny fur.”
Stan grinned. “lucky dog.” oh, how he wished he could be in Molly's shoes. to be needed at least by someone, to be taken care of, to be fed. “so, you sellin’ this week?”
you nodded, but your gaze drifted toward the fields. there was still so much work left to do, rows and rows of crops waiting to be picked and sorted. you sighed, already feeling the ache in your arms.
Stan seemed to catch on. “well, if you’re ever lookin’ for extra hands, i know a guy who owes you a couple favors.”
...
you don’t know why you start bringing him food. it’s not like Stanley asked for it and he’s certainly not the kind of man who’d admit if he needed it. but you, the sweetest girl in town, noticed how he looked that first day at the market, hunger written all over him like and that makes it impossible not to.
it started with a couple of peaches tucked into a paper bag which you carefully left on the counter of the Mystery Shack with a quick, “thought you might want something fresh.” but then it grew into a jar of honey. then. . . in a bundle of wildflowers tied with twine.
one day, you showed up with a loaf of bread so fresh it was still warm, wrapped in an old tea towel embroidered with little sunflowers. Stanley was tinkering with something behind the counter, muttering something about journals but when he saw you, he stopped, wiping his hands on his pants.
“you know, you don’t have to keep bringing me this stuff,” he said even as he took the loaf from your hands.
“i know, yeah, but you’re always here, and I figured. . . well, everyone deserves a decent meal now and then.” he looked at you for a long moment, longer than felt normal, trying to figure out if you were pulling some kind of trick.
“thanks,” he said your name. “that means a lot.”
and it becomes a thing, fresh eggs one day, a loaf of bread the next. you don’t stay long when you drop them off, because Stanford always says he's kinda busy here, dealing with some of his "scientific research”, so you quickly greet him, maybe say some comment about the weather, but every damn time he sees you, his face softens, genuine smile appearing on it, his shoulders relax too. maybe you’re not just bringing food but something else he’s been missing.
and sometimes, Stanley feels too lonely, so he pulls out an old chair and offers you coffee, the two of you sitting on the porch while he tells you about his life.
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An Observation
Disclaimer: This is written by a sex(also kissing) repulsed, Asexual.
I think I finally realized what made Veilguard my favorite out of the other 3 games.
In the other 3 the precedent was set. If you wanted a relationship, sex, and its various other intricacies was a requirement.
Heck even the chantry boy was ready to go to the bone zone in no time at all.
If I could mod out the sex and stuff from the other games I would do it in a heartbeat.
Veilguard however? They took care of that for us- or me anyway!
Not to say you don't get to the bone zone at the end of the game, but at least to get a 'relationship' you didn't have to jump through the hoop of physical intimacy to get there.
They made you work for it!
Earn it!
Build a bond with the person you were interested in.
I'm so tired and bored of romance portraying the importance of sex, when some of us value a deeper emotional connection far more than any form of intimacy. I get it, I'm on the more niche end of my little spectrum, but how I feel is still important and valid.
Seeing media, in any form, push how important and expected sex is in a relationship just hurts to see, for me. I've known enough people in my life who don't understand asexuality in any way shape or form and will try and guilt you into putting out because, well, if you aren't there's something wrong with you. And I'm wasting my time with you if its never going to happen.
I'm not for everyone, and I don't expect to be. But if you're with me, you already know what to expect. I'm up front about it and am not going to hide who and what I am.
I dare say that my opinion on this translates onto my romance choice in Veilguard. Lucanis. Who was so clearly on the spectrum of asexuality it could make you cry. The fact that we, or I, got someone that just wanted to be with you without all that extra stuff... maybe I did weep a little.
Because FINALLY!!!
I refuse to believe that MK said he was Demi to, as people like to put it "pull a JK.R" because I knew what he was pretty darn quickly. And even then she responded to someone asking if he was, because clearly other people could tell too! And OMFG the Wyvern thing???
The thing about us Ace people and dragons being cooler than sex(I came into the community later than most so that was always the inside joke I remembered)? Perfection! I don't know if that was the goal, but damn did I love it regardless! It was so good!
So, all in all, I'm sorry that most of you don't think Lucanis' romance was done very well, and it needed more of something. But... you can pry his MK post confirming, slow burn, acts of service, demisexual, just let me fall asleep in your arms at the end of the day, having romance, from my Cold Dead Hands!
I've seen the cut content. I've seen the other romances in game, and I don't want his to be anything like theirs. Or change, get patched with more content, etc.
Let me, or dare I say 'Us' have this! You had 3 other games to enjoy your sex drives. Let me have just this one! He's not for everyone, and dare I say it, he doesn't need to be.
Much like how Dorian was gay, Sera was a lesbian, Cullen wouldn't date a Qunari. Solas wouldn't be with you unless you were an Elf. Not all romances need to be for everyone. And that's okay!
End rant!
Disagree with me if you wish, idrc, just be civil about it.
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mayh3mde4d · 2 days ago
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Homework -LMH pt 2 :
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Student!Reader Teacher!LeeKnow Genre: Smut Warnings: Student teacher ofc, age gap (reader is legal age!), cnc, oral (f and m receiving), rough sex, manhandling, squirting, oral part is a bit freaky, degrading petnames. Y/n doesn't talk too much
You had been in Minho's class for a while now and you both looked at each other a lot. You found him attractive and he would often make small flirty gestures to you, such as complimenting your perfume, outfits, makeup or just winking at you. Soon it turned into talking with him and there was a lot of tension between the two of you. He wasn't that much older than you but there was still a bit of an age gap. "Y/n, would you mind staying after class. I have something I'd like to discuss with you" he said, softly smirking at you. The class ended and you had walked up and sat on his desk. "What did you need to talk about, sir?" You asked. He locked the door and came up behind you and put his hands on your shoulders, "Y/n, I've seen how you look at me, you're such a damn tease." he moved his hands to your chest, fondling your tits through your shirt. "S-sir, what are you doing?" you said, breath shaky. "I'm giving you what I know you want" He whispered in your ear, unbuttoning your shirt, giving your neck a kiss. "You wanna tease me so much, you have to face the consequences" he unhooked your bra, wrapping his hands around your tits, squeezing your nipples. "F- Minho.." you breathed out, arching your back slightly. "You like it, huh?" he moved to the other side of your neck, continuing to kiss you. He moved his hand to you waist, and one hand to your neck, moving to stand in front of you. "Look at me Y/n" guiding your face to meet his with his hand, pushing his thumb in your mouth and pulling it out. He leaned down to whisper something. "Since you wanna smile at me and talk with me so much, I'm gonna use that pretty mouth." He leaned back again, taking his belt off, putting it behind your neck like a scarf. "Take them off for me, love" he commanded and you began unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, soon after pulling them down, his erection clearly showing through his boxers. "Fuck, you're big" you bit your lip, seeing the length he had on him. "Yeah? You can take it tho. Take them off." you started removing his boxers but you felt his hand softly slap you. "Nuh uh, use that pretty mouth." he demanded and you began to take them off, attaching your teeth to the waistband, pulling down, using your hands to fully remove them past his thighs. You took a moment to admire his thighs, they were so toned and thick. "C'mon, you better be a good little girl for me and suck" he put his hands on both sides of the belt, pulling your face close to his erection. "Open, baby." You opened your mouth and he slide in your mouth, almost instantly gagging on his size and girth. He pushed in and out slowly at the start, only to pull your head more with the belt, making you cry and choke on him. "Fuck this feels good." he growled, watching tears fall from your eyes. "Min- plea- its- so- mu-ch-" you said through thrusts. He went a bit slower, but still remaining fast, "I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, bitch." his breaths sped up and he thrusted deep into your mouth, you soon felt a warm, bitter liquid fill your mouth. He pulled out slowly, leaving a 'pop' noise. "Swallow." he held your chin up, watching you swallow his cum. "Please, I need you" you looked at him with pleading eyes. "Oh I know baby. Since you made me feel so goddamn good, I'm gonna help you too." He sat on his knees, pushing your shirt up around your hips, seeing how soaked you were. "You like me, don't you?" he teased before attaching his mouth to your panties, circling his tongue around your clit, making you jerk your hips a bit. "Please don't tease me, sir" you begged. "Since you asked so nicely.." he pulled down your panties, spreading your thighs apart, licking a strip up your slit. "Tastes so good babe." he goaned against you, circling your clit slowly again, making you moan. He sped up his movements, putting one finger inside your soaked core. "God, I could eat you for the rest of my fucking life." he said while sucking your sensitive clit, the vibration making you push your hips to his face. "That's it, don't hold back". (I have to make a part 2 bc I ran out of space)
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myloveforhergoeson · 3 days ago
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i know that all of us see mrs. knight and the knight household as the main place the four btr boys revolve around because that is all that is shown to us in btrtv, but i've been thinking a lot about james and brooke lately so i have something to bring to the table!
the only time we see the other moms (imagine, for a second, its not simply because it's a mothers day episode) is when james specifically is in trouble - when is mother is threatening to pull him from his dream and bring him back to minnesota to live with her.
jennifer calls up joanna and sylvia when james is in need of help. not when logan and camille break up for the umpteenth time and jennifer could think 'hm, maybe his mom should be here to comfort him.' not when carlos' father comes to visit and she could think 'oh, hey, maybe sylvia should be here too.' the other moms are called specifically when james' livelihood - and more specifically, his happiness - is in danger.
because of this, i'd like to posit that while the knight household was likely the primary place of refuge for the btr boys, i'd also like to put forth that james spent a lot of time in houses that were not his. i'm thinking multi-night sleepovers when things in the diamond household(s) got out of hand both pre- and post-divorce, james going to a different house with his friends after school every day, having a permanent place for his items in the knight, mitchell, and garcia households...
joanna and sylvia take the first damn flight out of minnesota they can to rush to la and help talk brooke down from making a huge mistake. maybe it's because they all know she can be a pain to deal with, but the way everything was immediately dropped, how tough they were on brooke and her decision, and how they did not stop fighting until they found a solution to keep james in la, speaks to me that he is as much a part of their families as he is part of brooke's.
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