#do you. do you know what i thought about when i first clicked that episode

[fischyplier]

Misfits and Magic Season 2 Episode 2 "Magma and Mingle": My Thoughts and Analysis

So here are my thoughts on Evan and Sam. Am I the only one that doesn’t see their relationship progressing into romance? I can understand that in this season Brennan and Danielle are having more scenes together. At this point, Evan and Sam's relationship feels platonic to me, but who knows what could happen in the next few episodes. I prefer platonic relationships because they feel more interesting than just romance. Also want to take the time to say, I love and appreciate all the hard work that went into this and every season of D20. Thank you to the crew, the players and Aabria cause misfits and magic has become very near and dear to my heart!

Click below to read more, warning long post:

Anyways, Evan has gone through a LOT of traumatic experiences since childhood and continues to till this day. Evan's body is riddled with scars, broken bones that healed wonky, etc. He got stabbed on a bus at night trying to retrieve a talisman for Boodle 10 months ago. And I would not be surprised if he's been through more but hasn't had the opportunity to tell his friends or elected to say nothing. I can't help but to read too deeply into the quote "dream small". Is it cause I feel that Evan has learned to dream small in order to not get his hopes and expectations too high? Just a theory... A game theory! I'm sorry.

After 3 years of no contact the pilot project are back! But they haven't really had the time to sit down and catch up. In the video below, Sam says "I feel like there's a lot of things that when we talk you don't tell me." Which kinda leads me to believe, Evan doesn't want to worry his friends so he bottles up his feelings and doesn't open up. And when he does it's always with a smile and jokes to mask the hurt. He isn't just sad, he feels like a burden and tries to not take up space. I can really relate to this.

Even Brennan says Evan is in deep pain. The breakup he went through didn't help but there is more under the surface we as the audience still don't truly know. The experiences of being a lonely unhoused teen is the reason why Brennan chose "belonging" as Evan's ideal track. Because that is the one thing he's been deprived off, humans are social creatures and need to interact with others. What happens to a developing brain when that is taken away? When all you know is your shadow, loneliness and hunger? So when his friend says we can talk, he takes that as a serious invitation. Evan now surrounded by friends wants to do everything in his power to protect those he loves. He doesn't expect it to be reciprocal. You can see that when he says "if I've ever done a bad job about being here for you, I'm always here for you" after Sam says we can talk. When Brennan tears up with that incredible delivery of "I missed you"... I keep rewatching that part! Evan is always on the go, needs to be prepared, needs to be ready when shit hits the fan. Sam has created a safe place where he doesn't need to be hypervigilant and can relax, maybe open up and be a little vulnerable.

Sam is rightfully concerned that something deeper and terrible is going on with Evan.

When Evan continues kicking a half dead Salamander that isn't a threat to any of his friends, a darkness in him wants to kick it mercilessly for pure enjoyment. That even his eyes turns black. The first thing Sam does when she sees this is to attempt to drench it in water like Jammer did. Cause she said that this has become "unnecessarily dark" and that "this is freaking her out". That she'll even resort to spitting on the creature if it means that Evan will stop kicking that crap out of it. The water cools and stops the creature. Sam is a great friend that sees Evan do something twisted and wants to help so desperately. You do not have to be falling in love with someone to do the right thing! I still think they should just be friends.

I love that in this season we can really see their friendship blossom and not just be surface level chit chat. As they get closer hopefully they can help each other in ways they really need. In the preview for the next episode Evan says, "I don't see you the way you are afraid people see you." Sometimes it takes someone outside of your point of view to see aspects of yourself you are too close to see. And I think that's beautiful.

That leads into my next point, no I don't think the progressing of their relationship means that romance is in the air. I can't remember where I read it but another person said it best, intimacy doesn't mean romance. You can get close to someone, be a shoulder to cry on and depend on without developing feelings. You can love and respect your friend and keep it at that level but develop on that intimacy of a great friendship. I feel like it made the most sense for these two to get closer in this season because they have more in common now. Before it was just the fact that they were students learning magic at Gowpenny and being NAMPS (non magical person or let's be serious MUGGLES!). But now Evan and Sam have both underwent break ups and that's something they can really connect on. I really hope they don't get together right after cause that sounds like a rebound and to me, story wise pretty boring. And in my honest opinion, jumping into another relationship right after being with K is a little too soon. Evan needs a friend not a lover, at least for the time being. He needs to keep his inner darkness and insecurities in check. That or a therapist.

Hopefully this doesn't age like milk, and if they do get together I guess I'm wrong! :3

Thank you if you read till the very end, here is a gif of Brennan giving you a thumbs up!

Why? Cause you are pretty cool!

Please consider liking or reblogging this post if you liked what you read. And I'd love to hear your thoughts on this episode and if I should continue!

[technicalknockout]

The titles of the last four episodes of ok ko were so deceptive. I mean what bad things could happen in an episode with a name as innocent as 'Carl' amiright

[moondirti]

Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!

My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.

Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?

What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?

Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.

Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?

Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!

shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev

cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.

Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.

Or even understand, really.

Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...

You don't mind it.

But you still don't like him.

It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.

That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.

Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.

You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–

The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.

But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.

Things only get worse from there.

"An' where d'you think you're going?"

You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.

If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.

"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.

But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.

And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.

"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."

He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.

"Where are you going with this?"

Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.

"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"

"N-No–"

"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"

"Yes. Yes but–"

"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."

Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.

Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.

That cruel fuck.

"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."

Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.

As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.

"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."

"Si–"

He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.

"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."

You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.

"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."

You make it one block before hightailing back home.

Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.

You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.

But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.

You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.

Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.

Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.

Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.

"Miss me 'lready?"

A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.

The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.

Good dick be damned.

But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.

Account does not exist.

Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.

So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.

It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–

Account does not exist.

Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.

Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.

And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.

It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.

"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."

"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.

"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"

You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.

The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.

And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.

You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.

Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.

Just as Simon barges into your room.

You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.

But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.

"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.

Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.

(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)

That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.

You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.

"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."

"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.

He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.

If anything, he's the stray.

"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."

[renecdote]

rebirth

Bi Buck cured my writers block, please have this short little episode coda for 7x04. [Read on AO3]

It’s after one a.m. when the light, bubbly excitement in his stomach sours, fear creeping in. Buck’s next breath sticks in his chest, his heart races, his fingers start tingling, and it’s so much like what kissing Tommy did to him, but for all the wrong reasons this time. His phone screen is suddenly too bright in the darkness, his search history a towering mess of questions, and Reddit threads, and quizzes he clicked into then out of before he could finish taking them.

The problem, he thinks, is that it felt so right. Tommy tilted his chin up and pressed their lips together and it felt like—himself, for the first time in… forever, maybe. Buck doesn’t know what he’s meant to do with that. Go out on Saturday night, maybe (hopefully) kiss Tommy again (and again and again and again), but then… But then?

He wants to call Eddie because he always wants to call Eddie. He wants to blurt out all the things he kept under his tongue when he apologised earlier. He wants to hear Eddie say his name, soft and warm and knowing, because if anyone can make him feel seen and heard and at home in his own skin, it’s Eddie. He wants so hard it’s almost painful.

But it’s the middle of the night, he can’t call Eddie.

He can’t call Maddie either. She would answer, he knows, and she’d have just the right words for the spiralling anxiety that’s sucking him in, but he’s not going to scare her with the phone ringing in the middle of the night. There have been too many calls like that that have only been bad news.

He won’t worry Hen or Bobby with a call like that either.

And as much as Buck wants to confide in them, wants to crack his chest open and show his family what has been inside the whole time, there’s another part of him that doesn’t want to share. Not yet. He feels like the newborn calves he saw at the ranch in Montana, young and fragile and unsteady as he tries to find his feet. The world suddenly feels bigger. Brighter. And it’s exciting, it’s freeing, but he can’t help feeling daunted, like he might get lost if he’s not careful.

“Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. He thinks of that first breath of air when his head came above water in the tsunami, he thinks of being struck by lightning, he thinks of stepping into Station 118 for the first time, he thinks of catching the Jeep keys Maddie tossed him in the dark of a Hershey street all those years ago. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.

Did the first time you kissed a girl feel like this? he wants to ask Hen. Does it feel like this every time?

Is this the magic you were talking about when you first met Shannon? he wants to ask Eddie.

I figured it out, he wants to tell Bobby. I figured out what being at ease with myself feels like.

He has a shift in six and a half hours, but sleep feels as impossible as it did when he first climbed into bed. Buck lifts a hand to trace his lips in his dark, reliving the memory of Tommy there. He imagines Tommy everywhere else too, trailing his hand down his body, fitting Tommy into all the places a few dozen women have touched before. He feels like a teenager, giddy at just the thought of sex—of everything—and he exhales a laugh in the dark.

Buck opens his phone again and sends a text to the one person he knows is on shift and might already be awake: when you said you’d pick me up on Saturday, you meant in the chopper right?

Tommy replies instantly: those things are a bitch to park

And a second later: maybe on the third date

There it is again: breath stuttering, heart racing, fingers tingling. Buck wonders if this is what it feels like to get behind the controls and fly. He grins at his phone. He can’t wait to find out.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

In response to the Mile High Job post, I hate that Parker implies that poor flight attendant slept her way to a promotion/better shift. Her day is super weird but her cat is fine and her life is saved. That rumor, however, might stick and that didn't really feel like Leverage to me.

Agreed!

The thing with Leverage is that it's a show from the late 2000s; it feels contemporary, but actually it is a bit dated. And, like all shows, it had some problematic elements, which get a bit more Obviously Problematic as time goes by (I am just waiting for someone to write a lengthy call-out post in 5 years' time and for the Discourse to start.) For example, Tumblr loves to declare that Leverage has a "canon" throuple, but if anyone read that and then watched the show they would be profoundly disappointed - while it's a fantastic ship with a great many shippy instances, Elliot has a lot of onscreen No Homo moments, and frequently is shown sleeping with random women (I personally read him as aromantic). Similarly, there are two big relationships in that show: Nate/Sophie, and Parker/Hardison. And we all wax lyrical about the brilliance of Parker/Hardison and how healthy it is, and for good reason; but we gloss over how unbearably "I hate my wife/father I cannot click the book" Boomer humour Nate/Sophie is.

(He literally calls her a shrew in one episode. She throws a tantrum and sulks if he doesn't remember the exact details of how/where they met. She's stereotypically 'romantic' and he's stereotypically 'cynical' and she has to Save Him From Himself, and he self-deprecatingly says he should just know when to stop arguing because she's always right. Like... it is a grubby and uncomfortable dynamic; but, it's also aimed at a different segment of the audience that is older than me, and that's okay, actually. It just means I don't much care for the ship myself.)

Anyway, this is one other such instance. Clearly someone in the writers' room thought that was a funny joke, and not enough people disagreed, and so in it went. What's nice is that Sandi McCree, who plays the other flight attendant that stays on the plane, actually kind of saves that joke for me with her performance. When Parker first boards and declares that her co-worker is not coming in, McCree looks disgruntled at the sudden change to her staff list when she wasn't informed; she's annoyed at management. Then Parker makes the sleeping-with-pilots comment, and McCree looks disgusted and furious -

An expression she then pulls at Parker every time she sees her for the rest of the episode, even when Parker is technically not doing anything particularly weird. It's not necessarily intentional on McCree's part (Parker IS very weird in this episode, so it very much can be a response to that), but to me it means you can read it as "This woman is absolutely furious at the lateral sexism of this white girl because We Love And Support Each Other On This Plane." So, for me, between that and the aforementioned revelations of the day (the plane was brought down by the domestic terrorists of a Fortune 500 company, but saved by... a few unexplained Official People who snuck aboard??? And the other flight attendant was made to miss the plane after all under mysterious circumstances and was not promoted??? What???), I don't think Sandi McCree's character wouldn't put those pieces together.

[azurefanfics]

Incoming call from Lover Boy <3

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: A late night call from your lover Wonwoo after successfully wrapping up his second Tokyo concert.

Note: To celebrate Nana Tour coming to an end I decided to FINALLY write the fic idea I’ve had since episode 1. Please forgive my rusting writing skills - it’s the first fic I’ve actually written in years!

“Incoming call from Lover Boy <3”

The familiar nickname flashed up on your screen, causing you to pause in your reading, smiling slightly at the phone. It was just a joke at first - changing your boyfriend’s nickname in your phone to see how he would react, but the sheepish pink blush that painted his cheeks whenever he caught a glimpse of it drove you to keep it that way ever since.

Your phone continued to buzz angrily, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“What’s up?” you questioned, picking up the phone right away. It wasn’t unusual for Wonwoo to call you when he was away, but you knew he’d just wrapped up a concert that night and usually he’d prefer to either celebrate with the boys or just sleep, especially this late.

“Sorry baby, were you asleep?” a familiar face came into view, picking up on the slightly sleepy tone of your voice and voicing out his concerns.

“No, I was just finishing up this chapter, don’t worry. Is everything ok? What happened to drinking with the guys?” you asked, turning your camera on in turn.

“I had a drink already, but I thought I’d turn in early or else I’d be up all night with those idiots. We do fly out at 6 am after all.” The rosy flush that dusted over his features revealed the truth in his statement, as he shook his head fondly at the questionable sleeping habits of his members. “Besides I couldn’t miss out on speaking with you, it’s the highlight of my day.”

This made you smile a little to yourself. Although you’ve never doubted your boyfriend’s love for you, it still felt good to hear that your presence lights up his day in the same way his does to yours.

As you continued chatting about anything and everything - mostly the boys’ antics during the concert - Wonwoo began to remove the remnants of his stage makeup and get ready for bed. You did the same, basking in the moment of shared domesticity despite the ocean between you both. Despite all of the moments you’ve shared together, perhaps watching him sleepily rub his eyes with makeup remover is the most romantic of them all.

Before long, Wonwoo was done cleaning his face and headed back into the hotel bedroom as the two of you chatted. The lights went out with a click and you heard faint shuffling noises as Wonwoo struggled with his clothes. Eventually, he turned on the bedside lamp to reveal himself lying down, shirtless with his glasses on and his head on the pillow.

“You should take your glasses off hun, that’s got to be uncomfortable”, you chastised him, “and that can’t be good for the frames either”.

“No, I want to see you properly”, came the petulant response, “I won’t be able to actually hold you until tomorrow so this is the best I can get”.

“I can’t wait until you’re home.” you sighed. Although it had only been a few days, the pandemic and the fact that you were able to go with them on the last tour meant that times where you’d been away from Wonwoo were few and far between. Although the two of you had been very lucky in that regard, it did make time apart more of a struggle.

“Me neither, it’s not the same sleeping in these hotel rooms without you…”, he sighed. “I’ll be home tomorrow though! Do you have any plans? I know you’re working but maybe we could have a night in? We can watch a movie and order food? Oh! We should try out that new pizza place near ours, you know, the one Mingyu was talking about?”

“Oh yes! He made it sound so good - I’ve been wanting to check it out for a while! We should get extra and then we can have some leftovers for breakfast the next day!”

“…Babe… What are you talking about…. Pizza isn’t breakfast, you monster.” he deadpanned. At this, your cheeks puffed out a little in frustration.

“Breakfast can be whatever you want it to be! You can’t convince me that you had a healthy breakfast every day when you were living with Mingyu!”

As you continued to bicker back and forth about the validity of various breakfast(?) foods, you took a second to admire your breathtaking boyfriend. Even with his face smooshed into the pillow and his glasses askew, his handsome features and plush lips pulled into a subtle smile never failed to make you swoon.

Eventually the conversation turned to your days, catching up on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Although yours was quite uneventful - “just my manager being an idiot, as always” - Wonwoo was full of stories of shopping with the boys earlier that day.

“And then Hoshi just ran away with Coups’ crutches! He was just sat there on the floor pouting!”

As you giggled at his latest story, Wonwoo couldn’t help but join in as well. Your laughter never failed to give him the deepest joy - he would share stories until his throat ran dry, just to see you smile. He’d even endure the endless teasing from his members to buy magazines with his own face on to bring back to you. He didn’t understand why you needed them when you had the real thing - “They’re good to make collages out of, ok? Don’t judge me!” - but he’d dutifully bring them home to you to catch a glimpse of that bashful blush and shy smile of yours.

As your giggles died down, a wave of exhaustion washed over you and you couldn’t hold back your yawn. Despite doing your best to stifle it off camera, your ever attentive boyfriend still caught on.

“Are you tired baby? Sorry for keeping you up, we can always catch up tomorrow instead”, he said apologetically.

“No, no, if anyone should be tired it’s you. You’re the one that just finished a whole concert! Besides, I like hearing you talk. Tell me more about your day”.

At your gentle prompting, Wonwoo launched into another story about Dino’s latest antics. Despite his animated retelling of the members bullying their maknae, you felt calmed by his voice and felt yourself slowly being lulled to sleep. As your eyes drooped further, a gentle “sleep well baby” was the last thing you heard before your eyes shut completely.

—

The next morning you wake up to a text received at 4 am:

‘Sorry honey, we’ll have to take a rain check on our plans today. I’ve been kidnapped’

‘We’re going to Italy. I’ll bring you back some limoncello to make it up to you x’

You wracked your sleep-addled brain trying to make sense of his message before you remembered - Youth Over Flowers! You felt a slight twinge in your chest at having to cancel your date night, but that was quickly overtaken by excitement for your boyfriend, whom you know has never been to Italy before. You had considered visiting together in the past, but you’d never been able to make it work with your boyfriend’s packed schedule. Your boyfriend had rarely been able to go abroad for leisure at all in the past, let alone with almost all his members. The fact that Na PD somehow managed to surprise the boys, despite them losing all hope of the trip actually happening, just made it that much more sweet.

As you set to work looking up restaurant recommendations in Italy to make sure that your boyfriend was able to enjoy his trip to the fullest, a knock sounded on your door. Jumping out of bed and pulling on a dressing gown, you quickly made your way to the door.

“Pizza for Y/N?” It was the pizza place you’ve been wanting to try.

“I don’t think I ordered this? Do you have the wrong place?” you responded, bewildered.

“It was ordered to this address under the name of Jeon Wonwoo. There was a note left on the receipt.” At that your heart swelled, and you accepted the box gratefully from the delivery driver.

As you settled down at the kitchen table with the still hot box, you unfolded the receipt and took in the message your lover left for you.

“Sorry I can’t be there today baby. Please take this as my peace offering while I’m off expanding my pizza horizons in Italy. I hope you have a good day at work, can’t wait to see you soon! 10 days can’t go by fast enough. Please wait for me a little longer love <3”

You smiled softly at the thought of him, bleary eyed, having to pack all of his belongings in a rush, but still taking the time to think of you.

You took a bite of the piping hot pizza covered in your favourite toppings - delicious. Who ever said pizza wasn’t a breakfast food anyway?

[faithshouseofchaos]

Shut up now you opened a whole new thought process mentioning mafia 🤭 what about mafia!danny? I don’t think anyone’s wrote about him but I feel like it just clicks. OH MAYBE reader doesn’t believe it when he casually mentions it, she thinks it’s a joke because of his happy personality but then maybe she catches him doing some *mafia stuff* iykwim and then she’s shocked at first, not talking to him for a bit. He clearly says that it’s not his fault because well he did technically tell her even though she thought it was a joke. Im a sucker for the injury trope and it fits so well with mafia so like he shows up to her house all bloody and bruised with flowers or smt and he’s like I don’t know how to make it up to you but you made me feel like the mafia never existed or wtv and asks what he can do to make it up 😫 this is pure brainrot so I’m not even sure if this makes sense so work your magic 💜

A/n— this has been In my drafts since mid June 😭

Mafia!daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

Angst fluff hurt comfort you know the works

Word count— 7.3k words

Warnings — I did not edit this 😭 death but no one important slightly dark!Danny

“I don’t think this is a good idea” you groaned to your friend who had set you up on a blind date with her husband's best friends who he had known since childhood. “It’s a great idea you’ve been single for four years now y/n it’s time to get back out there and meet new people. I’m not saying you have to get into bed with him, just give him a chance” She replied. 

“Do I have to?” You asked looking at your friend with a pleading look practically begging her. 

“Come on y/n you’ll like him. Daniel’s nice and he’s funny. He's your type. Trust me, as soon as you see his smile you’ll fall and you’ll fall hard” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Ok fine I’ll go on one date,” you said crossing your arms “As long as you promise to keep an eye on my location I don’t want to end up on the next episode of Dateline” you added.

“Oh relax” your friend scoffed “Daniel’s a good guy and he’s a total gentleman, you won’t have to worry about that” 

“Don’t you worry I’ll be keeping tabs on you the whole time you’ll be fine” she reassured you. “You’ll see you’re going to fall in love with him. I’ll set up a date for you two, you’ll thank me when you’re living happily ever after” she said while putting a hand on your shoulder.

 A few days later your friend had set you up on a date. You were now about to leave your house for the date and before you left your friend had messaged and asked for your location so she could keep track of you. Once you sent her the address of the restaurant you were going to, you made your way there.

You finally got to the restaurant and looked around, a little nervously, until you spotted your date. You saw a tall attractive man, with messy brown hair and a charming smile sitting at one of the tables. He seemed to notice you as he stood up and smiled, waving to you to come over. As you walked towards him he pulled out a chair for you and once you sat down he pushed it back in before he sat back down. “You’re y/n right?” He asked as he gave you a charming smile.

You nodded and smiled back. “Yeah that’s me and I’m assuming you’re Daniel?” You asked as you looked up at him, taking in his handsome features.

He chuckled, “yep that’s me” he replied as he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re even prettier than your friend described you” he added as he looked you up and down shamelessly. You felt your cheeks warm up a little at his compliment but you tried to stay calm. “Well you’re not too bad looking yourself,” you said with a hint of playful sarcasm in your voice.

"Not too bad?" He repeated, feigning a hurt expression as he clutched his heart dramatically. "I'm devastated, absolutely devastated" he added with a smirk. "Much happier, especially coming from a beautiful girl like you," he said with a smirk. A second later the waiter came by and asked what you would like to drink.

You told the waiter what you wanted to drink and Daniel did the same. As the waiter left to put your drink orders in, you turned to Daniel. “So what do you do for a living?” You asked curiously. "I run a business that modifies cars" he replied with a smile. "It's a family business, handed down from generation to generation" he added, his pride obvious in his tone.

You were a little surprised by how casually he worded it. “Oh wow that sounds pretty cool, I’m surprised I haven’t heard of it before. What’s it called?” You asked curiously. “It’s a little Mafia thing,” Daniel says casually. 

Your eyes widened slightly at his casual statement. “A little mafia thing?” You repeated disbelief in your voice. “Are you being serious right now?”

He chuckled, "Yes, I'm being completely serious. It's not what you think though, we're not out committing crimes like the stereotype. We're all about family and respect here, a different type of mafia" he explained, his tone still calm and casual.

“I don’t believe that,” you said.

Daniel feigns a hurt expression again. “You wound me. I’m offended that you don’t believe me” he said with a fake pout. “But seriously, I’m not lying to you. I do run a mafia business that’s all about family” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but feel skeptical. “I’m sorry, I’m just having a hard time believing what you’re saying. It’s not every day you meet someone in the mafia” you said, still sounding doubtful.

Daniel chuckled, clearly amused by your skepticism. “I understand your disbelief, it’s not something you hear about every day. But I assure you, I’m not lying to you. I’ve been part of this family business for years” he said calmly, trying to reassure you. You were grateful for the subject change, and you quickly gave him an answer. “I work at a local animal shelter, nothing too exciting” you replied with a small shrug.

"That's pretty cool, I love animals," he said with a small smile. "Have any pets of your own?" He added curiously. You shook your head. "No, I wish I could have one but my apartment doesn't allow pets" you explained. "But I get to see and play with so many different animals every day at work, so I can't complain," you added with a smile.

He nodded. "Yeah, I get that. It sucks when you can't have a pet, but at least you get your animal fix at work" he replied with a grin. The conversation continued on and on, you found yourself lost in conversation with Daniel. He was charming and funny, the time flew by while talking with him. Before you knew it, hours had passed and it was starting to get late. Just as you were about to say something, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out to check your notification and saw a text from your friend asking if you were still on your date and if you were still okay.

You quickly typed out a response telling her that you were still on the date that everything was fine and you'd check in with her later. As soon as you hit send, you looked back up at Daniel, who was watching you curiously. “Everything alright?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at you.

"Oh yeah, it was just my friend checking in on me. She's a bit overprotective" you explained with a chuckle. He chuckled as well. "Ah, the overprotective friend. Gotta love 'em" he replied with a grin.

“Yeah she’s my best friend and I love her” you replied smiling.

There was a brief moment of comfortable silence between the two of you before Daniel spoke up again. "It's getting pretty late. Can I walk you home?" He asked, looking at you with a warm expression. You smiled at his offer. "That's very sweet of you, but didn't you drive here? I don't want you to have to go back to get your car" you replied, feeling a sense of guilt at the thought of him having to walk back to his car just to drive you home.

He chuckled and shook his head. "It's fine, I don't mind. Plus, I'd feel better knowing you got home safely" he said with a small smile.

You couldn't help but feel a warm feeling at his words, touched by his concern for your safety. "Thank you, that's very sweet of you" you said, feeling a hint of a blush on your cheeks.

He smiled at your reaction, seeming pleased that he was able to make you blush. After paying for the bill, he stood up from his seat and gestured for you to do the same. He walked beside you, holding the door open for you as you exited the restaurant. The cool night air hit your face as you stepped outside, and you shivered slightly. Noticing your shiver, Daniel took off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. "Here, you look cold," he said as he placed his coat around your shoulders. The coat was warm and smelled like him, a woodsy and earthy scent that you found surprisingly pleasant.

"Thanks," you said as you pulled the coat closer around you. The two of you started walking down the street, the city around you becoming quieter as the night got later.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, the only sound being the occasional car passing by. You glanced over at Daniel, who was walking beside you, his hands casually stuffed in the pockets of his pants.

"Can I ask you something?" He suddenly asked, breaking the silence between you two. "Yeah, of course. What is it?" You replied, curious about what he was going to ask. He hesitated for a moment before asking his question. "Why are you still single?" He blurted out, his tone casual but his words weighted. His question caught you off guard, and you weren't quite sure how to respond. "Uh, I don't know, just haven't found the right person I guess," you said with a shrug, feeling slightly embarrassed at his direct question.

He hummed pensively, seeming to consider your answer. "I find it hard to believe that a beautiful girl like you doesn't have men throwing themselves at you," he said, his eyes scanning your face intently. You blushed at his compliment, feeling embarrassed and flattered at the same time. "Yeah right, I'm not that much of a catch," you said with a self-deprecating chuckle, trying to downplay his words. He stopped in his tracks, causing you to stop too, and turned to face you. "Don't say that about yourself" he said sternly, his gaze never wavering. "You're gorgeous, and any man would be lucky to have you" he added firmly.

You stared at him for a moment, taken aback by his intensity. No one had ever spoken to you like that before, and it stirred up a feeling inside of you that you couldn't quite explain. "Thanks, I guess" you mumbled, feeling a bit overwhelmed by his compliment. He chuckled softly at your reaction, his expression softening. "No need to thank me, just stating the truth," he said with a shrug. "But seriously, I don't understand why you're single. You have everything a man looks for in a woman" he added, his eyes locking with yours.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, his intense gaze making you feel a bit flustered. "I don't know, maybe I'm just picky," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but you knew that wasn't the real reason. The truth was, you were just too scared to put yourself out there again after your last relationship ended badly. He seemed to pick up on the underlying hint in your words, and his expression softened further. "Ah, I see. Previous relationship baggage, am I right?" He said with a knowing look. You were surprised that he had noticed, but you nodded in response. "Yeah, something like that," you said, feeling a mix of vulnerability and resignation.

He nodded in understanding. "I can understand that. Bad relationships can leave a mark on us, make us hesitant to trust again" he said thoughtfully. "But just because one relationship ended badly, it doesn't mean the next one will" he added, his gaze steady on you. You had to admit that he was right. You knew you couldn’t hold onto your past trauma forever, but it was easier said than done. "It's not just that, though," you said, feeling a bit guilty for unloading everything on him. "I'm also just scared of getting hurt again. Relationships are risky, and I don't know if I'm ready to take that risk again" you added with a sigh.

He listened attentively as you spoke, his expression still soft and understanding. "I get that. Falling in love is a risk, and there's always a chance of getting hurt. But the thing is, you can't live your life being afraid of getting hurt" he said, his voice gentle but firm. "If you don't take a risk and open yourself up to new relationships, you'll never experience the joy and fulfillment of finding someone who truly loves and cares about you" he added, his eyes never leaving yours.

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, making you realize that you were letting your past experiences dictate your future. "I know what you're saying is true, but it doesn't make it any easier," you said, feeling a mix of defensiveness and vulnerability. He nodded, seeming to understand your conflicting feelings. "I know it's not easy, and I'm not saying you should rush into anything. It's important to give yourself time to heal and process your emotions. But at the same time, don't shut yourself off to the possibility of finding happiness again" he said, his voice still soothing.

You felt a lump in your throat as you absorbed his words. You knew he was right, you couldn't keep living in the past and avoiding future relationships because of your fear of getting hurt. "You're very wise, you know that?" You said with a small smile, attempting to lighten the mood. He chuckled at your comment, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I have my moments," he said playfully. "But seriously, I just want you to consider what I'm saying. Don't let your past define your future, and don't sell yourself short. You're an amazing woman, don't forget that" he said, his gaze still fixed on you. 

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, his praise making you feel a flutter in your stomach. You had never felt this seen and understood by someone before, and it was both comforting and overwhelming at the same time. "Thank you," you said, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "I appreciate you saying that. It means a lot" you added, feeling a bit emotional.

He smiled at your response, looking pleased that he was able to make you feel better. "It's just the truth," he said matter-of-factly. "You deserve to be loved and taken care of, and I'm sure there are plenty of men out there who would be lucky to have you" he added, his tone casual yet affectionate. “I hope that you’ll do the honor and go out with me again?” Daniel added.

Your eyes widened in surprise at his unexpected question. "Wait, what?" You asked, caught off guard by his directness. He chuckled at your stunned expression. "Did I surprise you?" He asked, his tone teasing. "I thought I made it obvious that I'm interested in you," he said, his gaze still locked on yours. You felt your heart rate increase at his words, his gaze making you feel both flattered and a bit flustered. "You're interested in me?" You asked, hoping you didn't sound as dumbfounded as you felt.

He nodded, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Of course I am. You're gorgeous and intelligent, and you have a great sense of humor. Why wouldn't I be interested in you?" He said, his voice dripping with charm.

You couldn't help but smile at his compliments, feeling a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. "You're flattering me too much," you said, trying to play it cool. “But yes Daniel I would love to go on another date with you” His smile widened at your response, clearly pleased that you had agreed to go on another date with him. "Great, I'm glad to hear it. I promise not to disappoint" he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

The two of you resumed walking, the conversation becoming lighter and carefree again. Even though you had only been on one date with him, you felt a certain ease and comfort with Daniel that you hadn't felt with anyone else before.

As you walked, you couldn't help but sneak glances at Daniel from time to time, noticing small details about him that you hadn't noticed before. The way his hair fell slightly over his forehead, the crinkles by his eyes when he smiled, the way his hands moved effortlessly in his pockets.

You were so lost in admiring him that you almost didn't notice when he spoke up again. "You're staring," he said, his tone playful. You felt a heat rise to your cheeks as you realized he had caught you staring. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," you said, feeling embarrassed at being caught.

“Thank you for walking me home, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, thanking Daniel. He smiled at your thank you, appreciating your gratitude. "It was no problem at all. I wanted to make sure you got home safely" he said, his tone still warm and genuine.

You arrived at your apartment building, the outside light casting a soft glow over the both of you. You turned to face Daniel, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. "Well, this is me," you said, gesturing towards the building behind you. "Thanks again for walking me home, it was really sweet of you" you added, looking up at him with a small smile.

He smiled back at you, his eyes roaming over your face as if trying to memorize every detail. "It was my pleasure. I'm glad I was able to spend more time with you" he said, his tone soft and sincere.

There was a brief moment of silence between the two of you, the air thick with unspoken tension. You knew that this was the part where you were supposed to say goodbye and go inside, but somehow neither of you seemed to want the night to end just yet.

——

Weeks had passed since your first date with Daniel, and much had changed since then. You had seen each other many times since then, going on numerous dates and spending countless hours talking and getting to know each other better.

Even though you had only been official for a few months, you felt as though you had known each other for years. Daniel had become a constant presence in your life, his presence both comforting and exhilarating at the same time.

As you sat on your couch, mindlessly flipping through channels on the TV, you heard a knock on your door. You looked up, surprised that anyone would be visiting you unannounced at this hour. You got up from the couch and walked over to the door, wondering who could be on the other side. As soon as you opened the door, your heart skipped a beat as you saw who was standing in front of you.

Daniel stood there, looking unfairly attractive as usual, wearing a fitted shirt and jeans that hugged his muscular frame. He had a small smile playing on his lips, his eyes scanning your face intently.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he added, leaning one arm against the doorframe. You shook your head, feeling a flutter in your chest at the sight of him. “No, not at all. Come in” you said, stepping aside to let him enter your apartment.

He walked inside, his tall frame making your small apartment seem even smaller. He looked around the room, seemingly taking in every detail. 

“Cute place.” he finally said, turning to face you.

“Thanks,” you said with a small smile, feeling a bit nervous under his gaze. “So, what brings you here? Not that I mind, of course” you added quickly, not wanting him to think you didn’t want him there.

He smiled at your nervousness, clearly amused. “Can’t I just come over and see my girlfriend?” he asked, the word girlfriend rolling off his tongue effortlessly. He chuckled, clearly seeing through your act. 

“Girlfriend I didn’t know I was your girlfriend already” you replied coolly with a smile. 

“You’re such a bad liar,” he said, stepping closer to you. He was now standing so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

He gently reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin for a few seconds longer than necessary. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “You know I can read you like an open book, right?” he said in a low voice.

Daniel took another step forward, and now his body was almost touching yours. You could feel the heat he was radiating, and you found yourself leaning into him involuntarily.

“I know you like it when I call you, girlfriend” he whispered, his lips brushing gently against the shell of your ear. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, and you knew he was well aware of the effect he had on you.

Without another word, Daniel lowered his head and pressed a kiss to your neck, his lips soft and warm against your skin. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but it hitched as his lips moved to your jawline, trailing small kisses down to your collarbone.

He continued to press kisses to your skin, his teeth nipping gently at your collarbone. His hands came up to rest on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you closer to him. You could feel his body pressed up against yours, every inch of him solid and warm.

“You know, I’ve missed you” he murmured against your skin, his lips moving back up to your neck. He nipped at the sensitive spot behind your ear, causing your legs to almost buckle at the action.

“I missed you too, if I’m being honest I hate when you leave for long periods” you responded.

“I know, I hate it too,” he said, his hands tracing small circles on your hips. “I wish I could stay here with you all the time but, well, sometimes work calls” he added, his lips tracing a path down your neck again. 

He pressed another kiss to your collarbone before lifting his head to look at you. His eyes met yours, and you could see the mixture of affection and hunger in his gaze. “But I’m here now,” he said, his hands sliding around to your lower back. He pulled you closer to him, his body now pressed tightly against yours, leaving no space between the two of you.

You could feel the heat and hardness of his chest through his shirt, and you could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His scent surrounded you, a mix of musk and aftershave, and you couldn’t help but inhale deeply, craving more.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as he spoke again. “And I plan on making the most of it.”

The intensity in his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the heat pooling in your belly. “You always do” you managed to say, struggling to keep your voice steady under the weight of his gaze.

He chuckled at your response, seemingly pleased by your admission. “Damn right, I do,” he said, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. 

———

Months later 

You hadn’t seen Daniel in a few weeks due to him going out of town for work. You knew he was going to be home later in the evening so you wanted to surprise him. Walking up the pathway to the front door you took out the key to Daniel’s house that he gave you and unlocked the door. As you stepped inside, the house was quiet and dimly lit. It was clear that Daniel wasn't home yet, but you knew he would be back soon. You set down your bag by the door and made your way further into the house.

The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, and you took a deep breath, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over you. You missed him a lot more than you’d expected. You walked through the living room and into the kitchen, debating whether to make something to eat or just wait for Daniel to arrive. As you stood by the counter, lost in thought, you heard a faint sound in the other room. It sounded like a soft thump, followed by a muffled curse.

Concerned, you left the kitchen and headed towards the source of the noise. As you reached the door to the study, you heard another sound, followed by a low groan. 

You quietly opened the door and stepped inside your heart racing. When your eyes focused on the figure in the room, your heart skipped a beat.

 standing in the middle of the room there Daniel was surrounded by other men who stood around a man who was tied to a chair in front of Daniel. The man tied to the chair was beaten badly. Daniel's eyes were dark and intense, and his expression was colder than usual. He was wearing a black suit, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a hint of his chest.

The other men in the room were all dressed similarly, and they stood off to the side, watching intently. It was clear that they were either bodyguards or associates of some sort. One of them stepped forward and handed Daniel a knife, which he took without hesitation. 

Daniel took a step closer to the man tied to the chair, his eyes scanning over him with a mixture of anger and disdain. You watched in shock as he placed the tip of the knife under the man's chin, lifting his head to meet his gaze.

“What did I tell you?” Daniel asked, his voice laced with barely contained fury. The man in the chair, who was terrified, trembled visibly at the sound of Daniel's voice. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he just looked up at Daniel with wide, fearful eyes. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Daniel said, his tone almost mocking. He pressed the knife a little harder against the man's skin, just enough to draw a thin trickle of blood. The other man winced and let out a small whimper.

The other men behind Daniel let out small chuckles, clearly enjoying the sight of the man in distress. You stood there, frozen in shock and disbelief, not sure what to do or say.

Daniel leaned closer to the man, his eyes never leaving his face. “You know what I do to people who talk too much?” he asked, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.

The man in the chair frantically shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He looked terrified.

“No? Well, that's a shame.” Daniel said, his tone still cool and mocking. “I thought I made it clear to you that I don't like it when people talk too much.” he continued, his eyes narrowing. “And yet here we are, with you bleeding and tied to a chair. Did you think I was joking?” he added, his voice growing colder with each word. The other men in the room shifted their weight, clearly enjoying the show. They knew not to interfere, Daniel was the boss and this man had wronged him in some way.

Daniel ran the tip of the knife lightly over the man's cheek, leaving a thin trail of red in its wake. “I guess I need to teach you some manners, huh?” he said, his voice a low growl. “Maybe then you'll learn to shut your damn mouth.”

The man in the chair began to sob loudly, pleading for mercy. “Please, I'll do anything! I'm sorry! I'll never do it again, I swear!” he cried out, his voice breaking with fear and desperation.

Daniel seemed unmoved by the man's pleading. He let out a humorless chuckle and looked over at the other men in the room. “You hear that?” he said, motioning to the man. “He says he's sorry. Do you think I care?”

The men in the room all shook their heads, some of them letting out more chuckles at the sight of the man's desperation. One of them spoke up, "He's worthless boss. Just get rid of him."

Daniel thought about it for a moment, his eyes still locked on the man in the chair. “You know what? You're right. Let's end this.” he said, his tone cold and detached. He turned to one of the men, handing him the knife. “Finish it,” he said simply, before stepping away from the man and walking over to the other side of the room.

The man who had been given the knife stepped forward, a cruel smile playing on his face. The man with the knife just laughed at his pleading. “Too late for that, buddy,” he said, his tone smug. “You should have thought of that before you crossed him.” He brought the knife up to the man's throat, the blade glinted in the light. The man in the chair let out a shrill scream just as one of Daniel’s men stabbed him in the chest. 

“No!!” You screamed making yourself known to the others. Daniel whipped around to face you. Daniel's eyes widened in surprise as he saw you standing there, horror etched on your face. He seemed caught off guard by your appearance, and for a moment he just stared at you. Then, he took a step towards you, his expression unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice cold and guarded. The other men in the room all turned to look at you, their eyes appraising you with curiosity and suspicion. You stood there, frozen in shock and fear. You hadn't expected to walk in on a scene like this, and the sight of the man being beaten and stabbed right in front of you was almost too much to handle.

“I-uh-I gotta go,” you said running down the hallway and out the front door to your car.

Daniel watched you leave, a mixture of shock and anger etched on his face. He was about to go after you when one of his men spoke up.

“You gonna go after her?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Baby wait!” Daniel called out after you his heart sank in his chest and he felt like he was going to be sick. You heard Daniel's voice behind you, but you didn't stop. You kept walking, your heart racing and your mind reeling from what you just witnessed.

Daniel called out again, his voice pleading now. "Please, wait! I can explain!"

Despite your anger and fear, you reluctantly stopped in your tracks. You turned to face him, your eyes swimming with tears.

"Explain? Explain what, exactly?" you said, your voice shaking with emotion.

Daniel took a few steps towards you, his expression earnest and remorseful. "Please, just give me a minute to explain," he said, his voice softer now.

You stood there, your arms wrapped tightly around your middle, trying to keep calm. "Fine," you said, taking a deep breath. "Explain."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and anxious. "That guy, he's...he's a rival gang member. He crossed a line, and I had to deal with it," he said, his voice low and serious.

"And dealing with it involves beating him up and having him killed? In one of your spare rooms m?" you asked, your voice rising in disbelief.

Daniel let out a sigh, his hand running through his hair again. "It's not that simple," he said, his tone still gentle. "This is how things work in my world. You knew that when we started dating."

"But I didn't expect to walk in on a scene like that!" you exclaimed, your voice cracking slightly. "Watching you torture someone...it was terrifying. I've never seen anything like that before."

Daniel's expression softened, and he took another step towards you. "I know it was shocking," he said, his voice quiet and sincere. "But you have to understand, this is my life. This is what I do. And I can't change that, no matter how much I might want to."

"But what about me?" you asked, your voice shaking. "How am I supposed to feel safe and secure in a relationship with you, knowing what you're capable of?"

Daniel took another step closer, reaching out to touch your arm. "I would never hurt you," he said, his voice low and firm. "Please, you have to believe me. You're the most important thing in my life, and I would never do anything to put you in danger."

You wanted to believe him, you did. But the image of the man who was beaten and stabbed was still fresh in your mind, and it was hard to reconcile that image with the man standing in front of you.

"It's just...I don't know if I can handle this. What I just saw, it's not something I can just ignore," you said, your voice shaking with emotion.

Daniel's expression hardened slightly, and he withdrew his hand from your arm. "So you're saying you can't accept my life?" he asked, his voice laced with disappointment.

"I..." you started, struggling to find the right words. "I don't know," you admitted, your voice small and uncertain. "I just...I need time to process all of this."

Daniel's expression softened again, and he let out a deep sigh. "I understand," he said, his voice sounding resigned. "You need space. I get it."

He took a step back, giving you some space. "Just...promise me you'll come back when you're ready to talk," he said, his eyes searching your face.

You nodded, still feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. "I promise," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," he said, his voice quiet and resigned. "I'll give you space. Just please, be careful and stay safe." With that, he turned and walked back towards the house, leaving you standing there alone in the dark. You stood there for a few moments, watching him go, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions. You knew you needed time to sort out your feelings and figure out what to do next. But deep down, you also knew that you could never forget what you had just witnessed.

With a lump in your throat, you turned back towards your car and climbed inside, feeling more confused and scared than ever before. As you drove away, leaving Daniel and his world behind, you couldn't help feeling like your life had been irrevocably changed.

———-

Days turned into weeks, and you hadn't contacted Daniel since that fateful night. You had been avoiding any kind of communication, needing time to sort out your thoughts and feelings. But as the days went on, you felt a nagging sense of guilt and longing whenever you thought about him, wondering if he was okay.

Daniel's world was one of danger and violence, and he was so used to being surrounded by it that he didn't realize its effect on others. But for you, the sight of him tormenting and killing that man had been a shocking wake-up call. You had never been exposed to that kind of life before, and it terrified you. The thought of being involved with someone capable of such violence and cruelty was daunting.

You had been struggling to reconcile the Daniel you knew – the gentle, caring boyfriend who had shown you only tenderness and kindness – with the Daniel you had witnessed that night, someone who was cold and dangerous. Despite your fears and uncertainties, you couldn't shake off the feeling that you cared deeply for him. You missed the moments of laughter, the stolen kisses, and the comfort of his presence. You missed his easy smile and the way he could make you feel wanted and adored.

One night, as you were tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, you heard a faint knock at your door. You sat up, your heart skipping a beat. Could it be Daniel? You got up and walked towards the door, your mind racing with mixed emotions. Part of you was terrified at the thought of seeing him, but another part of you was itching to see his face and hear his voice.

You hesitantly opened the door, revealing Daniel standing there on the other side. He looked tired, worried, bruised, battered, and beaten but his expression softened as soon as he saw you.

"Can I come in?" he asked, his voice quiet and weary. You felt a lurch in your chest at the sight of him, the emotions coursing through you in a confusing jumble. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. But then, without thinking, you nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to enter. Daniel stepped inside, his eyes fixed on you. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, with dark circles under his eyes and a haggard expression on his face. The sight of him like this made your heart hurt.

The two of you stood there in silence, neither of you quite knowing what to say or do. The air was thick with tension, and the silence was deafening.

Finally, Daniel spoke up, his voice cracking slightly. "I've missed you," he said, his expression full of vulnerability. Hearing his voice, you felt a wave of emotions wash over you. You wanted to stay mad at him, to keep your walls up and protect yourself, but it was as if the very sight of him had broken down all your defenses.

You didn't say anything, but you didn't need to. The look in your eyes spoke volumes. You missed him too, more than you wanted to admit. Daniel took a step closer to you, his eyes searching your face. "I know you're scared," he said, his voice low and earnest. "I know what I do is not something you can easily accept. But please, let me make it up to you."

Without thinking, you reached out and traced your fingers over the bruises and cuts on his face, feeling a pang of sympathy and concern. "You look like you've been through hell," you said, your voice soft and gentle.

Daniel let out a weary sigh, tilting his head slightly into your touch. "It's been a rough week," he admitted, his eyes closing briefly at the feel of your fingers on his skin. 

The two of you stood there like that for a few moments, not speaking, just drinking each other in. Despite your earlier resolve to keep your distance, you found yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

The silence stretched on, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside and your breaths mingling together. Finally, you spoke up, breaking the heavy silence between you. "I don't know what to do, Daniel," you said softly, your voice shaky.

Daniel opened his eyes and looked at you, his gaze intense and unwavering. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked, his voice taut with anticipation.

Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes. You wanted to say yes, to push him away and keep yourself safe. But something held you back, something deep inside that refused to let him go.

"No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don't want you to go." A relieved exhale escaped from Daniel's lips, and he took another step closer to you. His hands twitched at his sides as if he wanted to reach out and touch you but wasn't sure if it was welcome.

“Let’s get you cleaned up” you whispered looking at him. Daniel gave you a weak smile, relief, and gratitude in his eyes. "Okay," he said quietly, following you into the bathroom.

You sat him down on the edge of the bathtub and began rummaging through your medical supplies, grabbing some antiseptic and bandages. As you tended to his wounds, you were acutely aware of his presence, the heat of his body, and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

The silence was heavy as you worked, the only sound was the occasional hiss from Daniel as you cleaned his cuts. His eyes were fixed on you, watching your every move with a mixture of pain and something deeper, something more intense.

When you finished cleaning his wounds, you gently placed a small bandage over a particularly deep gash on his forehead. "There," you said quietly, your hands lingering on his skin for a moment longer than necessary.

Daniel lifted his hand, covering yours with his own. His skin was warm and rough, the contrast between your soft fingers and his calloused palms sending a shiver down your spine. He looked up at you then, his eyes meeting yours, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to stop. There was so much unspoken emotion in his gaze, so much longing and desire.

“Please forgive me I’ll do anything baby and I mean anything,” Daniel says his voice was raw and pleading, and the sight of him like this tugged at something deep within you. The way he was looking at you, the desperation in his eyes, made it hard to hold onto your anger and fear.

"Anything?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not entirely sure what you were asking for.

"Anything," Daniel repeated, his voice almost a growl, his gaze intense as he looked into your eyes. "Name it, and I'll do it. Just...don't leave me."

His words sent a thrill through you, the intensity of his plea setting your heart racing. You knew you should push him away, maintain your distance, and protect yourself, but the way he was looking at you, the desperation in his voice...it was undoing all your defenses.

You took a small step closer to him, your hands still resting on his face. "I'm trying to forgive you, Daniel," you said quietly, your voice hoarse with emotion. "But it's not easy, not after what I saw. I can't forget it, no matter how much I want to."

Daniel let out a ragged sigh, his eyes closing briefly as he leaned into your touch. "I know," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I don't expect you to just forget about it. But please, give me a chance to make it up to you. I can't lose you."

The pleading tone of his voice sent a wave of sympathy through you, and you couldn't help but soften a little. "How can I trust you?" you asked quietly, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. "How can I know that you won't drag me into something dangerous again?"

Daniel sighed, his eyes falling closed again as he basked in the feeling of your touch. "I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. You'll never have to see that side of me again, I swear it."

He lifted his hand, grasping your wrist and pressing your palm against his cheek, holding your hand in place. "Please," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please give me another chance. I love you."

Those three words, spoken with such raw emotion, shook you to your core. The realization that he truly loved you, despite everything that had happened, was both exhilarating and terrifying.

"I love you too," you heard yourself saying, the words slipping out before you could stop them. And as soon as they were out, you knew they were true. Despite all your fears and reservations, you loved him too, wholeheartedly and completely.

—————-

Tag list — @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @67-angelofthelordme-67 @alwayzbeenale @a-casual-romantic @amatswimming @anedpev @barcelonaloverf1life @badassturtle13 @bblouifford @bbtoni @biancathecool @charlesf1leclerc @crispysoup318 @crashingwavesofeuphoria @clowngirlsstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @formulas-bitch h @formulaal @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hangmandruigandmav @ironcowboycopnickel @writtcnbycassie @jeffs77 @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @moss-on-tmblr @nurse-floyd @omgsuperstarg @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @scotlynaurora @strugglingyetvibing @sweate-r-weathe-r @sevythebeanqueen @swifth0lic @toasttt11 @the-ghost-lovwr @tallrock35 @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere @vivwritesfics @mrs-liebgott

[jo1sstuff]

I think I know who the Archivist is, and it's not Jon. (TMAGP SPOILERS AHEAD)

(TLDR: I think it's Celia. Read on to see why!)

So.

I know the title sounds kinda click-baity, and this is gonna be a bit long, but this is such a ground-breaking theory that you'll hopefully want to stick around.

This is just a theory, so I might be wrong, but it would explain a lot.

I listened to TMAGP 29 earlier, and since my sister doesn't listen to TMA/TMAGP but I like to talk to her about it, I was mentioning the whole "It's on the train" thing, and a crazy theory popped in my head. So now I'm here sharing it with you all, so you can discuss it and maybe prove me wrong/right.

Anyways, I'm gonna start with something that might seem confusing at first, but it'll make sense later.

So we all know Celia, right?

Well, it's pretty much confirmed that she's from the TMA universe, but there are still a few things that don't quite make sense.

For example, the 'sleepwalking' thing she does. She'll wake up somewhere with no memory of what happened.

While I've seen some theories explaining it as the TMAGP Celia sharing a body with TMA Celia, it doesn't make much sense to me. Why would the TMAGP Celia still be in there? Wouldn't TMA Celia be able to communicate with her? Why hasn't anyone else mentioned seeing Celia when she 'sleepwalks'? Wouldn't TMAGP Celia have friends that would talk to her? If so, why wouldn't they notice it's not the same Celia?

Anyways, that theory just doesn't make sense to me.

Another thing that will make sense later: We all remember Michael Distortion from TMA, right?

And how his reflection looked different than how he sometimes looked in person?

An Avatar looking different through glass; whether through Sasha's window, or in the reflection of the cafe's window.

That was the thought that made me first come up with this theory.

The other thought was the "It's on the train" bit.

Sam and Celia get on a train to 'follow' the Archivist. Alice, however, sees it on the train with them.

(technically we don't know for certain that it was the Archivist, or if it was in or on top of the train, but it context makes it seem like the Archivist was in the train with them)

Why wouldn't Sam and Celia notice it? It's a monster that's all eyes, how could they miss that? Sure, it might have been hiding, but they likely weren't the only passengers on board. So why didn't the other passengers see it?

Well, what if they do see it, just not it the right way?

Because of the whole 'avatar looking different in windows' thing, what if that's why they don't notice?

Because they're not looking through the window?

Alice is though.

Alice is looking through the window.

She sees it.

What if, the Archivist is in a human form, but Alice can only see it because she's looking through the glass at it?

But who would it be?

Celia.

It's Celia.

Who else could it be?

What if, when she's 'sleepwalking', she's actually in Archivist form?

Sam got Archived, after all. And shortly after that, Celia appeared.

Wouldn't Celia have noticed the Archivist leaving?

Unless she just came to.

And she's so used to it happening, that she isn't bothered by the time she finds Sam.

Who knows how far away she got, after all. Maybe it was only one alley away, maybe it was a few blocks.

She'd have some time to compose herself.

And after that disorienting event, she managed to find her way to the O.I.A.R. and found Sam.

She was in the same area and time-frame the Archivist was there.

It's her.

Another thing: The statement-givers. Aka, the talking corpses. Aka, people that got Archived by the Archivist.

I'll bet that every time it mentions Celia having a 'sleepwalking' episode, it was around the same time that someone got Archived.

I'm not gonna go back through the episodes to see if I'm right on that, but if someone else will, it would be very much appreciated.

How exactly Celia became an Archivist, I don't know.

Maybe when she changed universes the Eye decided to make her its new 'precious little boy girl'. Maybe (if we believe that TMAGP is Somewhere Else) the Archivist part of Jon got stuck in Celia. Maybe she even became an Avatar by herself, who knows! I certainly don't.

Another thing I don't know is whether she'd remember what happens when she's the Archivist.

She seemed surprised to find Sam, after all.

And (if I remember right) she doesn't know how she gets to places while she's 'sleepwalking'.

I also don't know how Jack fits into this, but he's a mystery of his own.

Anyways, feel free to chip in with your own thoughts and criticisms, I could be completely proved wrong next episode after all!

[absolutebl]

Love Sea - A Trash Watch Smolder

Well my BLabies, do you have your drinks ready?

Are your smores stabbed on dildos, ready to roast over the stinking flames? (Or whatever one prods smores with, I missed that weird American tradition in my misspent youth.)

Can you smell it in the air? The smell of burning trash?

Let the dumpster fire begin. Another Mame offering is upon us.

The Background

The Mameverse tends to interlock, but all signs point to these being entirely new characters. (Click on that link if you want my thoughts on this author/producer and what I feel she does well and poorly.) Meanwhile, here's the brief:

Who?

FortPeat - established couple from previous Mame offering Love in the Air AKA LITA (trash watched here).

How do we feel about them? We likie. They a great pair. Steady, established actors, good a promo, but not too good. Bit one note but can't ask for too much when it comes with such great chemistry.

What do we know about them as actors? Fort is legitimately in Engineering (hilarious). Peat and he started in the industry around the same time with bit parts, but Peat is 4 years older. They do high heat and they do it well. They were quite popular after their first series and have received sponsorships. So they wisely stayed branded and it's nice to see them on our screens again.

What?

Love Sea

While travelling a writer has a one night stand with a very irritating man.

When?

Sundays

Where?

iQIYI (AKA icky)

Why?

Mame

To what degree?

Stick your thermometer into that fire, we gonna find out. 102°C I expect.

Episode One - That's An Outfit We'd All Wear to a Tropical Island

Here’s the thing. Icky has decided (in its infinite wisdom) that it will no longer allow screen caps on mobile devices. Which means you’re going to get my loquaciousness on this dumpster fire with no respite from the unmitigated madness via photos of pretty boys saying stupid things.

So. Read at your own risk.

I have a bottle of sake and a maple doughnut (don’t knock it 'til you’ve tried it) so let’s get started!

Hold onto your dildo smores BLabies we are in Mame Country. And apparently that country has its very own baby drone to film with now. (Look, the one thing BL rarely needs more distance shots. That’s not what we’re here for, people. Certainly not from FortPeat.)

Rak, baby, I'm loving the all-black western meets goth-rocker look but that eye make-up is the true star. This is how I shall dress when I visit Thailand next. (Oh, you think I'm joking? Gotta work on my smokey eye.)

Meanwhile, if your suitcases are that expensive, why aren’t they matched?

P'ABL asking the important questions for once.

Speaking of important questions:

Why are siblings always trying to pimp each other out in Mame’s stuff? Does anyone else find this creepy? I think it’s odd to be your sibling's wingman when he's chasing tail. It’s edging into the incest taboo. Oh dear, I said edging and incest in the same sentence, I’m probubly giving Mame ideas.

I’m getting Hometown Cha Cha Cha vibes from Mut.

Rak is such a cat, very picky and stand-offish. Mut is such a puppy. Very conflicting personalities. Not a bad combo. Also Rich/poor. Country/city.

The "let’s get it on" music is hilarious. But at least Mame doesn't use egregious sound effects in her shows. Well, not as many as GMMTV. Small mercies.

I will say, FortPeat do hurt/comfort very well. Peat is good at prickly fragile baby-girl. Fort is good at cocky arrogant prick. They are good at bouncing off of each other and still showing desire. Frankly, chemistry is not one of their problems. They’re fine little actors. It’s just the story is going to betray them. Characters are going to be inexplicably evil for no good reason. And we are going to feel manipulated as a result.

But right now?

It’s fine.

And that's it, that's how I feel about Love Sea.

All in all, I’m quite drunk and it wasn’t warranted.

Waste of sake. Not a waste of a maple doughnut. No such thing. Maple donuts are always put to good use.

Okay, so Mame? Just keep it on this level and we'll remain fine. Some light terrorizing and stalking, a smidge of breaking and entering. Nothing more offensive, okay?

But that’s my eternal optimism (and the sake) talking.

Right now I’m not feeling very strongly in any direction about this show. I haven’t been whipped into a verbal frenzy.

This has been a lackluster start.

Kortord tukorn

(sorry all)

This trash watch has started off as more of a dumpster smolder. A light recycling. (Like Mame and her character archetypes.)

We smokey rather than flaming (Like Rak's FANTASTIC eye makeup.)

Oof, I feel faintly ill. I think that is the sake, tho, not the eye make up. Which was on point! Although when he started to cry, it should’ve started running down his face. Life has very few stand out moments of glory apart from an adorable young man with eye makeup running down his face.

Catch ya next week. More sake, less doughnut.

su su na

Episode Two - Rack's Green Knit Shirt is Kinda Cute

I seriously cannot fault FortPeat's chemistry. And the opening sequence for this ep was intriguingly full of banter and then...

Surprise, BJ!

I do hope that beach is private. Starting with a BJ is very unusual in a BL. We certainly lick live in interesting times.

I feel like I haven't quite been warmed up to a sex scene yet. Kinda came out of nowhere. I mean it IS quite gay, making the prick front and center before the relationship gets going. But I was oddly indifferent to this start.

I'm on gd roll tonight apparently.

You know why? (Well, I'm me, but also...)

I feel like I have license. This show is kinda rude. Is that the word I’m looking for? Yes, rude. It's not very sexy, and it's not quite dirty, it's something else. Rude.

I’m not upset about it. It’s just odd. Like Thailand is trying on some Japanese button pushing for size.

I’m not mad just mildly confused.

Meanwhile, the GL sides are a "whipping girl" trope? Not sure I’ve ever we seen that combo before. Gay mean girls or something?

On an entirely different note, BL universe, I just thought I'd tell you that’s not where a gay man of Rak's caliber puts his perfume. Just FYI. 

I love claiming.

I love a public claiming!

I don’t care if this is Mame.

I LOVE A CLAIMING. 

Also, I am very much enjoying MutRak banter. Actually, I’m pretty much enjoying this episode.

OOOO, I typed too soon.

The second half is kinda dull.

Mame's little moment of "Author insert" was awful ham-handed and on the nose. On the prick? On the ego? She compared her own rampant mischaracterization and audience manipulation to the presence of dragons in a fantasy world? Basically saying: in BL my characters don’t have to be consistent, because that’s part of the genre.

I assure you, sweetheart, there are plenty of BLs and plenty of authors who have honest characterization that stays consistent throughout, and GASP actually bolsters faithful stories and drives plot with a conflict sourced in that consistency. Wandee Goodday... to pluck a randomly contemporaneous example out of thin air. You should try it sometime.

Ooo, now I'm salty.

Episode 3 - But Now, I'm Bored

Before we start....

Linguistics Corner!

Because I got an Ask here's a bit on these two and their pronouns! (We can see if my predictions are correct during the course of this trash watch.) We are in the realm of adult characters not school setting or friendship groups so Rak is using chan/nai and khun with Mut. There is a class & wealth difference with them, + Mut starts out as a kind of employee, so chan/nai makes perfect sense. It's an old fashioned but polite way of speaking that dodges age negotiations. Rak likely doesn't know their respective ages (he could be the older one). To even begin the discussion implies a willingness to use more intimate language so Rak likely doesn't wanna open that can of worms pronouns. He is using both chan/nai and his lack of flexibility around their use as a distancing tactic. Probubly instinctively. Pom or own name would be both intimate and status lowering for him to use. With most adult characters, phi/nong takes longer to establish (if ever), particularly if they start out as strangers. Also, it has much more intimate connotations. And by that I mean: emotional vulnerability not sex. It's fun to pay attention tho, because when these two pronoun shift (and they will) it's likely to be a significant moment in their romantic arc. If I'm lucky we will get a negotiation but that's not really a Meme thing so I suspect Mut will soften his language first. Because of Mut's characterization, and in order to ramp up the romance, I would actually expect these two to (eventually) parlay into rao/ter instead of phi/pom or guu/mueng. But I am looking forward to finding out how it's handled.

And now onto the episode.

...

..

.

Over a quarter way through and I have absolutely nothing to say. I apologize, this muse be a very boring trash watch. (Imagine how I feel?) I’m too tired to drink but even if there were alcohol in my system, I still think I would have nothing to say. 

Oh. Is that? Do I sense.... *GASP*

Traumatic backstories for our characters?

From Mame? Who seems to believe that no character can have depth without suffering?

Say it isn't so?

OK we’re now halfway through this episode and apparently there’s been a Time-lapse of some kind? A couple of weeks?

So this little cat & dog game they’ve been playing has been going on for a while?

Meanwhile...

I had a huge grin on my face at the moment Ja showed up. I guess I really miss him on my screen. Hi tall drink of water.

Oh, hydration.

Back to the show.

Just two boys with abandonment issues learning how to turn a vacation fling into a relationship mistake.

Also it’s a bit too early for that level of confessional. Isn't it? Well pacing-wise for a BL it feels that way. Are we now about to turn into a country mouse narrative?

On an entirely different note, it’s fascinating to have FortPeat and MosBank airing to high heat BLs at the same time. Especially as they're running on about the same release schedule. I’m enjoying watching 2 pairs both like in chemistry.

WAIT.

I sense a parody coming on.

Two branded pairs, both alike in chemistry, In fair Thailand, where all the cute boys yearn, From ancient grudge to suffer new Mame, Where trash watches make dumpster fires burn. From Fort the fatal loins of these two hoes (I HAD TO). A pair of branded pairs take on the heat; Whose narratives will oft include no clothes, Do with their smooches fight Tumblr critique. Such shameful usage of the dub-con trope, (Contrasted to others thirsty scenes,) Which, but for Mame's brand, all would say nope, Is now 12 eps of angst upon our screens. To wit, if you want sex without my diatribes, Give this a pass and watch Sunset X Vibes.

Thank you thank you. That is for the 3 people reading this who care.

Where was I?

Or right, no fault to FortPeat. Both pairs are working with the characters and scripts that they've been given.

But right now the sexitimes in this show just feel a lot more service and a lot less genuine (for lack of a better word) then Sunset X Vibes. Now, I know that the characters, narrative, and production company preferences are completely different, but the consummate interplay between surrender and hunger and consummation are oddly similar between these pairs, and yet they're reading (from this side of the screen) completely differently.

I don’t know where I’m going with this.

I just think we have an interesting study in heat and chemistry airing double down right now. And I wonder is anyone else is sensing what I'm sensing.

Writing that sonnet (or whatever) has utterly exhausted me. Nighty night. Don't let the guy-who-took-a-copy-of-your-hotel-key-and-broke-into-your-room bite.

Episode 4 - And Now, I'm Bored & Annoyed

I rushed back from the wilds of foreign climes to trash watch what exactly?

All this time spent establishing Mut as a

pillar of his community

really important lynchpin for oceanic conservation work

striving for his independence

building local friendships and surrogate family

the de facto mayor of this island

And he just leaves for Bangkok to be a boy toy?

And they JOKE about it?

Is the stuff between Mook and Mut supposed to be funny? It's not.

I got so bored I started looking up ways to organize my sunglasses.

Why is Mook so worried about Rak? He’s clearly an asshole who can take care of himself.

What is Mut doing with his life?

What am I doing with mine?

Too early in the series for an existential crisis.

I definitely need to start drinking again for this one.

Episode 5 - In which I simultaneously got even more bored & more annoyed

This time I armed myself with both booze and sugar. Unfortunately, there are some things even alcohol and chocolate can't cure. Mame is one of those things.

The bullying GL subplot is just BAD.

I’m getting an overall EPIC SQUICK from the fact that the two rich privileged characters are essentially taking advantage of the two lower class poorer characters. It’s not a power dynamic I enjoy at all. Ever.

So... everyone in Rak’s family is an extreme bitch, including him? Okaaay.

I mean Rak is pretty and all but I fail to understand the appeal. Maybe Mut just likes bitches? Maybe the sex really is that great?

I tell you, I wouldn’t put up with it.

ARGH. I'm just I’m not finding any of the character dynamics appealing in this show. I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I were back in LITA territory. 

I’m honestly sorry this trash watch is so bad.

This show isn’t inspiring me into anything but a general feeling of mild annoyance and slight fury.

It's like this rash I had in Stockholm one time.

Startlingly unpleasant, not what one might hope for, but also it could be worse, I suppose.

Episode 6 - In which I get very upset about jealousy

Tonight I'm combining my sugar with my alcohol and drinking chocolate soy milk with chocolate liquor in it. I'm aware that I have a child's taste in booze. The secret is I don't actually enjoy alcohol, I simply need it to survive Mame.

OK let’s do it.

Rich boy shops when sad.

Frankly, that always makes me feel better too. I prefer the snack aisle myself.

Oh. Goodie. You get to now watch ABL completely losing an entire brain due to raging at the machine because of one sentence.

Ready?

Chapter 6: Jealousy is a Sign of Love

Jealousy is a sign of love?! You absolute fuckers. Jealousy is not a sign of love, jealousy is a sign of possession, insecurity, insanity, and often abuse. Jealousy is a sign to dump that shithead as quickly as possible.

I mean, we all understand the story beat: in BL possession is revered and admired and used to drive plot when all other avenues have been exhausted. But you can’t just say it as the title of an episode! That’s too blatant.

TOO FAR!

Returning to the traumatic backstory. 

No, actually. Let’s skip that part.

I do like it when Rak gets all bossy. I love it when a spoiled boy manipulates his man's body to be his bolster pillow. Taiwan is particularly good at this.

Should I just go watch We Best Love for the 1millionth time instead of this show?

Too tempting.

Where was I?

It’s not even halfway through and I’ve already finished my drink in desperation. And am day dreaming of better shows.

Honestly, I have had many feelings about Meme over the years, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this bored with any of her stuff. I’d rather feel something than nothing.

Meanwhile, the GL moves on from bullying to outright manipulation and gaslighting. Cute. Added French for flavor.

I do like a smile kiss. And a lap sit. And so forth. So Fort.

Yes these two do sex scenes very well.

Give me something more.

Anything.

On the bright side... so far... no singing.

Episode 7 - I'm Too Drunk for This

This time, I decided to pre-game. So I went in tipsy. I’m hoping this improves my mood.

Look, I'm doing my best for you here. (Or am I doing my floppyest for you? Eh, same difference.)

Frankly, what’s really annoying me is that I am neither upset nor pleased with this flipping show. Turns out, I like to be driven one way or the other by Mame. But this show? Nada. It's a VOID.

At this juncture I'd prefer to feel rage than indifference.

I gotta say that thinking about this purely as a soap opera makes me understand it more. I don't like it any better, but I get what's going on. These are the Days of Our BL.

Oh hey, I know that convention center! Best food in the biz.

The revenge bit was fun I guess?

Ooo. Now I kinda wanna rewatch Shelter. It’s been ages. Such a great movie. 

Where was I?

Oh, right, the crazy cousin character. I don’t understand what’s going on with her. Why do we need her? Why is she here? What’s her motivation?

I’m too drunk for this shit.

I'm going to bed.

Episode 8 - I'm Not Drunk Enough for This

(I detect a theme)

Okay so the hotel wifi is not awful, we gonna try watching icky with it. Always a challenge. Wish me luck!

Wouldn't it be fun if Mut has been conning Rak with this good guy persona the entire time and he really is just after money? I kinda love the idea.

Sadly, I think this is way more boring.

Rak is just a bitch, not even a sublime bitch, but a boring bitch. That's worse than a basic one.

The drama with the dad just seems manufactured. I mean what does the dad want except to be evil?

I mean I know what Mame wants, an excuse for Rak to break Mut's heart.

And now, I'm annoyed and hungry. Imma eat hotel snacks and disappointment in equal measure.

Episode 9 - Perhaps I'm the problem?

I did this already and then tumblr ate it so this time around it's not as witty. Trust me that in the first assessment I was all charm. Now I am all sarcasm.

I enjoyed the random fight scenes. At least something happened. Also the collapsing in his arms was very dramatic.

I can see why Mame reused this pair for this show, because Peat is so good at being broken & fragile (see previous role).

But also… I feel like I’ve seen all of this before. Oh right, the psychotic breakdown scene in TharnType. The fragile broken uke from Love By Chance. The seme with a heart of gold and fists of steel from… all of them. 

I find this exhausting.

Is anyone else exhausted?

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again (AKA watching Mame) and expecting a different result. I must be certifiably bonkers at this juncture.

Second half of this show I begin to wonder one thing. (Well my mind wanders a lot but this particular thought bubbled to the surface.) 

Is this show actually an okay Thai BL?

Wait! Hear me out.

If this were ones first Meme, would it be… fine? In other words, if I didn’t have this storied (or lack of story, nash) history with her creative endeavors, would this bore me this much?

Is this actually just an average mildly enjoyable high-heat Thai BL to others, who are coming to her stuff for the first (or maybe the second) time?

Is it over-exposure or the has traumatized me in this way?

Am I corrupted through overindulgence?

Is this all my own fault?

Should I be taking a break from her? Should I not watch the next 3 productions that she does, and then return to her with fresh feelings of openness and amenable temper?

Is it me who is the problem? 

Yet the act of asking that last question makes me feel like I’m in the same kind of abusive relationship with Mame that Rak was with his father.

Then I feel like I need to drink more. Or see a therapist.

So that’s enough philosophy for one evening.

And then, at the very very end A THRILL DESCENDED UPON ME.

Watching the stinger for next weekI was all… 

Is this a 10 epper? Oh my God it is! Fantastic. Next week is the last one! I SEE THE LIGHT. 

Episode 10 - The Lingering Scent of Disappointment

Today I am drinking a soju cocktail. Which I can highly recommend. If you're a lightweight but you like vodka, Fresh Soju is actually a pretty decent substitute with a lower alcohol content. 

This has been your bartender lesson for today, moving on.

Wait. 

If the Maa could’ve fixed this all along by throwing the Dad in jail, why didn’t she? Why did she put her kids through all of this bullshit with stalking and abuse? Also the mom character was basically a deus ex machina, except she didn’t even happen on screen. It was action taken to solve what little plot there was... entirely off screen. How weird. I don’t even have a term for that. Bad writing? Recon explanation? Of screen resolution?

OK, Fort is acting so well in the breakup scene. I adore that “how much do I need to pay you to fall in love with me” parrots the original “how much do I need to pay you to sleep with me”. I must give props for that level of emotional manipulation in a romance drama of this type. 

That said, I feel for Rak, it’s rough to learn that someone else is playing a long game with feelings while you were playing a short game with d**k.

Meanwhile... I have run out of alcohol and I am now eating brownie bites. Because life (and d**k) is too short and so is my patience. 

Why is that tattoo so absolutely terribly obviously fake?

Someone take tattoos and wigs away from Thailand. Just strip them out of all wardrobe departments in the entire Thai film industry. Clearly they can’t handle that level of POWER. It’s giving me trauma.

I do like that the solution to the drama of the break up was an actual sincere and abject apology. Very mature and grown up of you Mame. 

I wish they’d woven the number 8 throughout more of the show, like into the pattern of Rak’s shirts and maybe an earring or cuff.

Did they entirely forget about the GL side not-plot? Or is it just me not paying attention because I’m distracted by brownie bites? 

Regardless, I genuinely let out the biggest yawn during the very ending scene. It’s nowhere near my bedtime.

And… that’s it I guess.

I’m going on the record at this point. I don’t think I can do a trash watch of Mame again. It’s exhausting. And also is it really worth my (or your) time? This screed was so lackluster.

Final thoughts? 

This is probably a solid 8/10 show but I’m mad I wasn’t madder at it, and mad I was so bored throughout.

So It gets a 7/10 and let us not speak of this again. I’d like to simply forget about it.

Conclusion? I’m left residually upset that FortPeat and all their talents are wasted on Mame. That seems unfair to them. And to us, quite frankly. 

************************************

All my trash watches are here:

(source)

[mrinafria]

[contains spoilers]

I'm an eternal digger of good narrative techniques. A decent story becomes great in my eyes if the narrative is done right. And it's one of the hardest things to do really, since there's no one-size-fits-all rule for what technique works well with a particular story and what doesn't. One of the primary reasons I keep obsessing over Lovely Runner is its' narrative technique. In all honesty, if it had a linear, singular narrative, I would not be hyperventilating over it on a constant basis (I still would just a certain amount, because both Byeon Woo Seok and Kim Hye Yoon deserve awards for what they are doing). One reason it has managed to knock it out off the park and take the top spot in my forever-favorite list is how wonderfully well the narrative is done.

The primary perspective used in this show is Im Sol's. It's through her we're introduced to the story. Her perspective gives shape to the plot, the characters, because we learn things through her. Her perspective is absolutely critical for exposition. Without her thoughts and way of viewing things, you would never realize why saving Seon Jae means so much to her, or why she would bend the rules and bulldoze ahead when it comes to his safety (exhibit A, her leaving home on the day of the accident, despite knowing about her fate). She'd rather have him alive than have him in her life. Without her narrative, you'd think it's really all about a fan saving her idol (thanks to everyone who'd rejected the script listening to that pitch by the way, I'm grateful we have BWS and KHY as the leads because of that, I would not change it for anyone else). With Im Sol's perspective, you realize, she is not just a fan: she's an ardent admirer, a cheerleader, a well-wisher, a protector, an invisible friend trying to support her friend any way she can, someone who respects Seon Jae, sees him as an idol but also as a human, someone who wants to give back to him the same kindness, empathy and love she had once received from him over a radio call. To her, Seon Jae is first a guardian angel and then an idol, the angel who changed her view of life, made her appreciate things even amidst all that could be wrong with the world and her life. He saved her. Not just on that day at the hospital but every time she struggled and faltered since then, he was there, as invisible as it may have been. So this time, she wants to save him, no matter the price.

Then comes Seon Jae. Oof. If Im Sol's perspective gives the story its beautiful, beautiful shape, Seon Jae's perspective breathes literal life in to the body of the story. The show wouldn't be what it is today if not for his perspective. Without his view into things, Im Sol appears as a fangirl going to extreme measures to save her idol, clinging onto him like a monkey (yes I mean the poster) embarrassing the heck out of herself, making you cringe (in a good, enjoyable way) throughout. Then you reach the end of episode 2 and it knocks the breath out of you because WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN. It all clicks.

All this while we kept thinking Seon Jae was caught off guard and just kind enough to tolerate her antics, and maybe he'd slowly fall for her now, only to realize we were completely oblivious to a whole different side of the story. If Im Sol's narrative draws you in and keeps you hooked, making you root for her to succeed, it's Seon Jae's narrative that makes you irredeemably fall in love with them and sincerely, genuinely, desperately hope they get their happy ending together after all the storm.

And the motifs. Walking/running, for instance. I'll focus on just one scene here. I recall seeing a bts where KHY is discussing the OG 2008 accident scene, and it explains how she has to slow down, while running away, for just a moment, only to be hit by the taxi driver. Have you ever been in a situation of absolute panic, desperation and stress, then suddenly found a familiar face or a name or a thing you could connect to, and felt a wave of relief rush through you? She sees Seon Jae, a person who is calling out her name. Even if she didn't know him back then, the fact that he knew her (and that he had his uniform on), gives her a sense of safety she badly needed that moment. That momentary relief, so visible in her features, then overtakes the crippling fear she felt running in the middle of nowhere with no one in sight in the dead of the night. Her body, already exhausted beyond anything, responds to the relief she feels for those few seconds, slowing down her steps.

And that is when she is caught off-guard and hit. That also might have added to Im Sol's anger at the hospital when she is screaming at Seon Jae, her internal anguish that if only she had not paused seeing Seon Jae, and kept on running, then maybe she wouldn't be hit, wouldn't fall, wouldn't lose her ability to walk. It's one thing to have tropes and symbolic things, but it's a very different thing to know how to use them effectively so they elicit very specific types of emotions/reactions out of people. Lovely Runner excels in that. All kdramas more or less have 'things' that take on different meanings for the couples/viewers. It's the way motifs are used to narrate the story in this one that has me going back over and over again to all the episodes aired so far. These are not just their 'things', these are 'things' that drive the plot forward, tell you about their characters, their personal motivations, what they mean to each other and so much more.

This is getting longer that I intended it to be so will end with this. I feel valued when watching Lovely Runner. And I've seen people saying the same thing. It feels like they respect your critical thinking skills, and your ability to infer, so they don't spoon-feed you everything from the get-go, and you can't predict much despite it being primarily a rom-com. You'd be pulling your hair out (again, in a good way) trying to figure out what they will show next, and you will be somewhat or very far from the truth, which will compel you to think further about the story, the characters, long after an episode has aired...I can't remember the last time it happened with a drama. I love this storytelling.

[tmntxthings]

(First of saw your recent ask with the anon and I hope you’re feeling a bit better since answering that! Please don’t rush to answer this or your other requests and i hope you feel better soon!)

I AM CHEWING ON YOUR DONNIE X READER WORKS OML BRO WHAT ARE YOU FEEDING YOUR INNER WRITER YOUR WORK IS ✨DIVINE✨ 😔👌

I cant resist making a request but you know Donnie flies/hovers with his battle shell in some episodes right to get around?? So what if Donnie having an s/o who is fascinated by the idea of flying, so one day, after much pestering Donnie gives in and decides to fly them around New York for a bit. BUT only if he is there with them, cuz Donnie is not about to have a stress induced heart 

attack if they loose balance. 

Donnie himself doesn’t really understand the fascination with flying cuz….well nothing is especially different, it’s just the city but from high up. But then mid sentence he looks to his partner and stares in silent awe at the fascination twinkling in their eyes as they admire the view??

I’m sorry I’m such a goddam sucker for this sort of stuff

一∑ Nights Like These 。・゜・

author’s notes: you paint a pretty picture anon, I could see it all play out thru my head! hope you enjoy <3

warnings: fluff, unedited

—————————————————————————

“Y’know what would be cool?”

Donatello blinked, his stare deadpanned. He was over this. You had asked so many times already. And each time, he had given you his answer. A resounding no. So he continued to tap at his phone while you sidled up next to him on the couch.

“Donnieeeeeee!”

A drawn eyebrow twitched. He wasn’t going to deign that with a response. You were being trivial at this point.

“Please!”

He let out a long sigh. Clicking his phone shut as dark irises finally turned in your direction. By this point it was clear you were never going to let it go. The word no, didn’t exist in your vocabulary. At least not when it came to the possibility of flying.

With his attention now on you, a speech was suddenly underway.

“I’ll do everything you say! Take a whole Donnie-training-course on how to fly a jetpack!! Just let me try! Please! Pretty please!”

You sure did know how to beg. Maybe it was unfair of him. But he didn’t like the idea of you in the air at all. You weren’t exactly known for coordination. You sucked at driving video games. How would you be able to command a jetpack that could go from zero to a hundred in seconds flat?

It was dangerous.

You could get injured or worse! There were so many terrible scenarios that ran through Donnie’s mind, he almost went back on his phone. But your hands latched onto his arm, pulling his thoughts back to the here and now.

“Nothing bad will happen! You’ll be right there beside me!!”

It was weird how you knew exactly what to say. Exactly how to sway him. Maybe his face was an open book, or maybe you just knew how to read him too well. This time his sigh was one of defeat.

You cheered.

~

After many, many lessons Donnie finally felt it was safe enough for you to put the jetpack on.

By this point you knew what all of the buttons did. All sorts of emergency protocols. And you may even be considered a certified pilot depending on the country.

Rigorous couldn’t even begin to describe what regiment Donnie had put you through. But it all paid off in the end. Because now you were strapped in.

“Alright, looks like it fits. How does it feel? I designed this one according to your specs.”

Donnie was circling around you. A hand underneath his chin as he looked for a reason to call the whole thing off. But you were on the moon.

“It’s perfect! Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it. Finally!! We get to fly together!!”

How could he shatter that bright smile of yours now? He’d put this off long enough. So he nodded, and led the charge out of the lair.

~

“Remember, if you feel out of control—“

You cut him off before he could finish.

“Don, I know! Stop and hover. Can I power on now?”

“No not yet we have to go through all of… Y/N!”

There was no patience left within you as Donnie kept talking so you just took off mid-sentence. He hollered after you. He took chase, his own jetpack roaring to life.

You were going way too fast. Donnie couldn’t tell if you were even under control! Just above the rooftops you flew by. Weaving past units and it became clear that you did know how to fly. His anxiety lessened but he still kept tailing you. Just in case.

At one point you slowed down enough for Donnie to be flying right by your side. Your smile dazzled him as you glanced over. Eyes twinkling in awe as you pointed out the bridge where Donnie and his brothers did the pizza box stacking competition.

“Race you there!”

You shouted and not a second later you were going max speed.

Now you may be a natural but Donnie had been flying far longer than you. The only advantage you did have was a slight head start. The wind picked up as the two of you flew higher. The finish line apparently being the highest point on the bridge.

Donnie won. He knew the best path to take after all from a projected route via his goggles. He watched as you made it to him. Slowing down and then circling him in the air while you laughed out in joy.

“This is amazing!!”

You exclaimed as you landed in front of him. It was high up, the wind whipping past the both of you. But the cold didn’t seem to affect your spirits at all. Your arms were raised in the air, back turned to him, whooping out for all of New York to hear. None of them would, not even the passengers in their zooming cars below. But Donnie could.

His heart did a strange thump beneath his plastron. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He felt a little breathless.

“Thank you! I- just, thank you for this! I never thought in my lifetime I’d be able to do something so… so..!”

The words were slipping from you as you had faced Donnie to express your gratitude. This was something that only happened in movies. That only happened in dreams! Your hands came up and moved in an expression that tried to convey how big this all felt to you. These emotions!

“We can do it again. However many times you like.”

Donnie replied after a moment.

You didn’t let the shock pass your features. You had wondered if he would let you fly again. So you had tried to get it all out of your system. Not knowing if the first would be your last. You smiled brightly for him.

“My worries seem to have been for nothing. You’re a natural at flying.”

A compliment. You could only smile brighter.

“Well, I don’t know about all that,”

And his mouth opened to argue. Not liking how you were putting yourself down. But before he could you continued.

“I had a great teacher!”

You mused at how his mouth snapped shut. His eyes darting away, a hand coming up to rub the back of his bandana.

“Really. He was the best! He’s too smart!”

He had to turn away as the compliments kept coming. Had the wind stopped? It was suddenly a bit warm up here. You had the nerve to giggle at his shyness before you powered up your jetpack again.

He turned immediately back to you, expecting you to take off again. But this time you hovered. Offering your hand to Donnie. He couldn’t help but take in the view. The night sky your backdrop, few stars even more satellites. But it was as if you were glowing before him.

His own hand reached out, fingers brushing against your palm, before taking a firm grip.

He held your hand.

[unholyhelbig]

new oversight will be everything! i can’t wait!

Title: Work Life Balance [an Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader gets hurt during a job, she starts to worry about how her girlfriend, the infamous mafia boss that controls the city, will react

[a/n: while this isn't a new chapter of Oversight (I am working on that), it is set in the same universe as the Oversight. It's based off of a Private Practice episode, and something a little lighter & silly. Enjoy!]

Warnings: Gun violence, blood, spit, threats, blood, hurt/comfort, No spell checks

Check out the full Oversight universe

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The metal bat had slammed against the side of your face with enough force to blind you momentarily in the right eye. It knocked the sense out of you too and your bearings were scrambled until that darkness started to ebb away into a blurry image of the alleyway.

There was a pungent scent in the air, rotted food in dark green trash bags that had been torn by tiny teeth, or elongated claws. Crumpled napkins and discarded soda cups littered the damp ground.

Before the man could swing the bat for a second time, you caught it half an inch from your face and shoved it away. He was disarmed and you were able to shove his back up against the wall, holding him there despite his squirming. His lip was split, the blood drying quickly from the bright red to a deep black.

“Come on, man.” You twisted your hand into the fabric of his shirt, bunching your fingers around his collar. “We fronted the product, so you have to front the cash.”

“Fuck off,”

He spit on you, a gummy mix of tobacco and sugar. There were a lot of things you could handle; the ringing in your ear, and the pain in your knuckles from the first four blows you threw. But spit was where you drew the line. It had bugged you since you were in fifth grade and Amy Sheldon dangled a long string of it inches from your nose before slurping it back up through the slit in her buck teeth.

“Alright,” you breathed out, making sure you kicked the fallen bat out of his reach. “You agree to push product on that little street racer of yours in exchange for twenty five percent of the cut. You get sloppy and sample the product and don’t have the cash to give to my boss?”

You lifted him from the brick and shoved him back down onto it with enough force to push the putrid breath from his lungs. “That doesn’t feel very fair, now, does it?”

He smiled at you with a laugh that rivaled a cackle. His teeth were orange with diluted blood. There was no getting through to him. Your free hand dipped into the side of your jacket. Over the last two years, you’d grown well accustomed to the feeling of a gun in your hand.

You pushed the tip of the gun under his chin into the soft spot of his skin. He stopped laughing, the sound getting stuck in his throat with a choking sound.

“Do you know what they call me?” You gritted.

“A raging bitch?”

You made a buzzing noise in the back of your throat, much like the signaling of a wrong answer on a game show. There was a soft click as you pulled the trigger of the gun. The man in your grasp tensed and hissed.

“Wrong. You know, at first, I just forgot to load my gun. Got me into some pretty hot water, scalding actually. But eventually it became a bit of a calling card. Roulette. I can pull the trigger as many times as I want, but only one will hit it’s mark.”

He swallowed hard, you felt it in the side of your hand. He was sweating and you were growing tired of the empty threats. Yelena wouldn’t approve of something like this, and you were sure Natasha wouldn’t have had a second thought about putting a mark between his eyebrows.

“Most men aren’t lucky more than twice,” You pulled the trigger again, met with another soft click. Of course, there were no bullets in the chamber; they rattled in your front pocket like your keys. “Three times at most.”

His voice cracked. “Please,”

There was a sharp scent in the air that rivaled that of trash. You were losing blood fast. It had streaked down the side of your face from a gash on your temple and crusted the collar of your shirt.

“You have a week to make up the difference. A week and I’ll be back with a gun that has more than one bullet in the chamber. Am I clear?”

“Yes, but-“

“Am I clear?”

He nodded aggressively and you sheathed your weapon, releasing him. His legs gave out and he sunk to the damp pavement. You picked up the weighted metal back, entirely content to take it with you. It would make your next encounter a hell of a lot easier.

It was impossible to sneak into the house without giving yourself away. Even if you were to park down the block, unlace your shoes and pad into the foyer barefoot, and leave the front door open a crack, you were at risk of creating a scene.

That didn’t mean that you couldn’t keep the injured side of your face away from Natasha for as long as possible. She would know that something was up, and despite her throwing you into this life in the first place, her heart broke when you were on the deep side of any injury.

You set the metal bat down with a bucket of black umbrellas and a bench that was mostly unused. There was a dull metal thump that aggravated the headache that was coming on. You attempted to sneak up the stairs, but the second your fingertips hit the mahogany handrail you were stopped by an irritated voice with a Russian lilt to it.

Yelena was sprawled out on the sofa, a book was face down on her chest, lifting and falling with each breath. She’d given up on it in favor of the warmth that Kate provided her. Kate’s head was on Yelena’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around her midsection. Yelena looked perfectly comfortable in between Kate’s legs, both of them were about ready to doze off and if you had waited an extra five minutes, maybe you would have gotten away with sneaking in.

“Did you get hit by a bus?” Kate asked.

You leaned against the entryway of the sitting room. “Ricky got a good hit in with a metal bat.”

“Oo, Natasha is going to be mad at you.” Yelena chuckled, taunting you like a child. You would have thrown a pillow at her if Kate wasn’t in the line of fire.

She was going to be mad at you for not using the buddy system that was proposed and certainly for not dodging the hit that was coming your way. Natasha hated when you got hurt and that sad look in her eyes was worse than whatever pain could be inflicted on you.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It looks pretty bad.” Kate said.

You shot them both the middle finger before turning away and padding up the stairs towards your shared bedroom with Natasha. Most days, she was holed up in her office and you didn’t bother her until the ache for her touch, for her presence, bothered you both enough to cave.

That was most days.

Some days, Natasha could be found in your room in sweatpants with a laptop propped up on her crossed legs. She was dwarfed in the silk bedspread, her hair in a messy bun and a pair of glasses on the bridge of her nose.

This was quite possibly your favorite look on Natasha, this quiet version of her. She’d let you hold her in this state instead of the other way around. You hated to break the mood, hated that she glanced up from her laptop not once, but twice.

Wordlessly, Natasha set her work aside and walked over to you. She cupped your face, her fingers cold against your cheeks. Her voice was soft and when she was angry enough, there was the slightest bit of a Russian inflection to her words. “What happened?”

“I… didn’t use the buddy system.”

“Mm, you didn’t use the buddy system.”

Her thumb moved against the black and blue wound against your eye. She pressed every so slightly, testing its durability. You winced, drawing in a breath through clenched teeth. It wasn’t bad, really, her touch soothed you just as quickly as it had bitten you with pain.

Natasha was good at taking care of you and she pulled you into the large master bathroom that the two of you shared. There was an abundance of white and beige. It was always a few degrees cooler than the rest of the house and offered a form of comfort as such.

There were nights where the two of you would simply brush your teeth shoulder to shoulder, and there were nights where she had her arms wrapped around you amongst the deep scent of lavender. Bubble hit her touch as her fingers roamed over the most intimate parts of you.

Now, she guided you to the edge of the sink and lifted you up in a fluid motion. She stood between your legs, making you feel even more like a child when Yelena had scolded you downstairs. Still, there was a degree of affection in her movements. Natasha frowned as she pulled a med kit from the bottom of the sink.

She tutted “Zaychik, this looks bad.”

“Image wise or the actual wound because-“You let out a small noise when she placed the frigid and stinging antiseptic against your face. It sent electric down your spine. “I didn’t know he had a bat.”

“A bat?”

“Right out of left field.”

Natasha’s frown deepened. This was supposed to be an easy job, and by all means, it was. You had accomplished your assignment of scaring up. You were sure he had released his bladder as he slid down the wall into a fetal position. Getting the money from a frightened man was going to be no problem.

Tonight was intended to be calm. You’d come home and shower and eat pizza and spend the entire night curled up in Natasha’s arms while she typed away on the computer. You’d listen to her breathing, her heartbeat.

Instead, she was roughly patching you up, buzzing with anger under her stare. “Why didn’t you take Clint?”

“Nat, I have a fantastic idea.”

“If it involves gutting that man alive and hanging him from a flagpole, then I am all in, darling.” Her words were light, distracted, as she wiped away a good portion of dried blood.

“What if we left things at the office, metaphorically speaking. What if we didn’t bring stuff like this home? Shut it all off.”  

She pulled back far enough to stifle her floral scent. There was an adorable crease between her eyes. “My mind doesn’t work like that, Malysh. This home is my office and vice versa. Someone hurt you and that is my business. That is my work.”

“I know,” you said, tucking a strand of fallen hair behind her ear. She glowered under her thick-framed glasses. You wanted nothing more than to kiss the frown off her face. “I know, but sometimes I just want to be with you.”

“Huh,”

“Huh?”

“Huh.”

This wasn’t exactly a constructive conversation. You figured as much when she ripped a bandage out of its waxy packaging and slapped it onto the gash against your temple. You let out a disgruntled noise and she grasped your waist and maneuvered you back to the floor. Your legs had fallen asleep and you were a little unsteady.

Natasha flicked on the sink and started scrubbing her hands of your blood. “No sex,”

“What?” You blinked at her, scratching fruitlessly at the adhesive on the bandage. It was incredibly itchy.

Natasha dried her hands on the nearby towel, “You heard me, no sex.”

“You… You’re withholding sexual pleasure because of something that happened at work?”

“Not something that happened at work, your refusal to talk about it.”

“Natasha,” You nearly whined.

“No sex!” She huffed, pointing towards the exit of the room “Go sleep on the couch.”

You dropped your shoulders in defeat. You had been banned to the couch? Your girlfriend didn’t’ withhold most things and the two of you had a very healthy and active life. There wasn’t true anger behind her words, instead she was testing you. Watching you until you give in.

“Fine,” You huffed, crossing your arms “The couch sounds lovely.”

“Good,”

“Great.”

“Fine.”

You grabbed the fuzzy blanket at the base of the bed and started to stalk towards the door. You could feel Natasha staring at you, waiting for you to turn around and apologize but it wouldn’t happen. Not this time. You were setting boundaries and if that included…no sex… then that was fine. It was fine.

“Zaychik?”

You turned back to Natasha, one eyebrow lifted, “Yes?”

“Leave the blanket.”

She gave you a sugary sweet smile before settling back into her previous position, pulling her computer into her lap. Your jaw was agape, but you tossed the blanket at her nonetheless and stormed out of the room.

The nerve, the absolute nerve!

Natasha wasn’t particularly hard to have a conversation with, but work was nearly untouchable with her. You knew that. She knew that. You did as you were told and protected her and her assets at all costs.

When you got back downstairs you fixed yourself a sloppy peanut butter and jelly sandwich before sulking back into the living room and flopping down onto the recliner in the corner. Yelena had since fallen asleep, and Kate was reading the book while her eyes grew heavy.

“You got kicked out, huh?”

“Kicked out, banned from sex.” You waved the sandwich around in the air “doghouse.”

Kate scoffed “the Romanoff sisters aren’t always the most forthcoming, are they?”

She was looking lovingly at Yelena, stroking her hair as the smaller woman curled deeper into her, fingers clenching at Kate’s flannel and then releasing as she settled back into a comfortable sleep.

“They make it hard to love them, but the moments where the mask slips and they’re vulnerable. Moments like these make everything worth it. And despite everything, you know they care. They’ll always care.”

“Sometimes too much,” you took a large bite of your sandwich.

“No such thing.”

Yelena stirred in her arms, nose pressed against Kate’s pulse point. She clenched her eyes tighter, her next words mumbled “Kate Bishop, if you don’t stop talking you will be sleeping on the couch with y/n.”

“Doghouse,” You said with a long sigh.

“Mm,” Kate hummed, letting out a quiet whisper “Doghouse,”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife]

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Love Sea Novel Excerpt: Mahasamut Punishing Tongrak (Special Episode)

"Tongrak!"

Fun my ass!

That was what Tongrak thought as he looked into the intense, angry eyes filled with apprehension.

An hour ago, he was having fun because as soon as he stepped into the bar, he became the center of attention for both men and women. He knew he was attractive and always drew attention wherever he went. Palm had done a good job spreading the word across the island, because curious eyes were watching him from every corner.

That was enough to fulfill Palm's request. And... he'd already texted his boyfriend.

If anyone wanted to see Mahasamut with him, they'd get their wish tonight.

Let everyone know that the island's treasure already had an owner! And he loves the owner so much!

Tongrak thought proudly, answering a few questions from the locals, turning down a few advances, until... he met a fellow college friend.

At first, he just helped the Canadian guy who was confused about the menu. They hit it off, talking about their university and city, and he learned the other had just broken up with his girlfriend and fled to Thailand alone. They just clicked, reminiscing about the city they once lived in for years. That was all until...

The man in front of Tongrak pressed close, placing a hand on his thigh, causing him to jerk away, but before he could react, a large hand grabbed his own, furrowing his brow.

Tongrak tried to pull away again, but the warm palm still held his hand.

"Why not?" the man asked.

His light-colored eyes looked sweetly at him, but the writer wasn't swayed. His fair hand was ready to yank away, but then...

"Tongrak!"

Before Tongrak could react, the rough hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him into a warm embrace and a familiar scent.

His heart sank.

Tongrak knew who it was before even seeing the face of the hand's owner.

"Mut," he called out, startled. Tongrak looked up at the sharp-featured, tense, angry face with veins bulging on his neck.

Mahasamut wasn't looking at him, but at the Canadian guy with a scary look.

Mahasamut had a big build, and Tongrak believed that Mahasamut wouldn't lose in a fight. So, the tight grip on his wrist and the intense eyes that seemed to suck the breath out of the onlooker made his slender body tremble.

Tongrak didn't dare say anything, feeling the fury emanating from this man.

Mahasamut looked at the foreigner with dangerous eyes and then yanked him out of the bar so quickly that Tongrak didn't dare make a sound.

The last thing he saw was Palm crouching behind the bar counter, and even though he couldn't hear what the kid said, he knew they were thinking the same thing.... This is going to end badly.

---

---

Thud!

Tongrak jolted as his bare back was pushed against the wall of the house, his honey-colored eyes trembling, looking at the man in front of him with fear.

Mahasamut was furious... very furious.

"I didn't do anything, believe me."

"Then why did you let him touch your hand!?"

Tongrak flinched as the deep voice yelled at him.

Since they'd met, he'd rarely seen Mahasamut angry. The other was always calmer, always listening, always more mature. No matter how badly Tongrak behaved, Mahasamut would cool him down, gently guiding and teaching him. The only time Tongrak saw his lover angry was when he came to make up and was too scared to speak. But that was anger mixed with sadness. This time, it was different.

The dark eyes were so frightening that he almost stopped breathing. The large hand gripped his arm tightly.

"I didn't..." Tongrak heard his own voice shaking, trying to grab Mahasamut's hand as he explained, "he just suddenly grabbed my hand. Believe me. Palm asked me to sit at the bar for a bit. I just did what Palm asked, and I already told you that, too. I didn't do anything. Really."

Tongrak looked into those wild, furious eyes, pleading. He was almost ready to kneel and beg.

"Can you not be angry?"

With a swoosh, the writer flinched as Mahasamut brushed his hand aside to grab his palm and yanked it up to eye level.

"I saw him holding your hand."

"I shook it off."

The slender man tried to touch the rugged, handsome face, but the other turned away.

It's scary.

Tongrak's heart pounded. He didn't know if he was scared or intimidated when those sharp eyes stared at him, radiating an aura that would keep anyone away.

"Where else did he touch you?"

The deep voice was so intense, it seemed to vibrate through him, along with the tall figure pressing against Tongrak, the heat almost scorching.

Their eyes locked as if trying to read each other's souls.

"... my waist," he whispered back, barely audible.

"Ah!"

Tongrak stiffened, gasping as the rough hand pulled his shirt from his pants, and then the hot flesh squeezed his bare waist hard enough to leave a mark and slid up to his chest. He didn't dare look down, only at the eyes in front of him that shone with a crazed light.

Thump, thump, thump.

Tongrak's heart hammered in his chest, pumping blood to his flushed face until it was a deep shade of red.

"... where else?" a deep voice whispered close to his lips.

Tongrak averted his gaze briefly.

Should I tell him?

Deep down, he knew what was coming. He knew he would be punished and understood that he shouldn't reveal more than necessary. Yet something compelled him to answer truthfully.

"My legs."

"Take off your pants."

The listener shuddered at the command, looking at Mahasamut with a startled expression.

They both stood on the spacious porch in front of the house, prompting a repeat of the words.

"What did you say?"

"I said, take off your pants!" The command was repeated, louder this time, causing Tongrak to hurriedly unbuckle his belt under the unwavering gaze that offered no help.

Mahasamut watched him fumble in silence, but this silence made Tongrak's back slick with sweat, his heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. His hands trembled as he undid his belt and took off his pants. The more Mahasamut watched, the more he shook.

He didn't like that Mahasamut said nothing, but he did like being watched like this.

The soft fabric of his pants pooled around his ankles.

A rough hand seized his thigh, squeezing it hard enough to make Tongrak gasp for breath. He looked up into those sharp, strong eyes, half of Mahasamut's face obscured by the shadows of the evening, making him look like a death god come to claim a life- dangerous, yet so devastatingly handsome.

The man pressed his body close, his muscles as hard as iron against Tongrak.

A burning hand slid up to his inner thigh, making Tongrak jerk in response.

Tongrak knew he should first try to cool down the other man, but his body responded honestly. His core burned, his underwear was damp with desire. Wherever Mahasamut touched, it felt like he left scorching marks. Even the deep voice that asked again was frighteningly arousing.

"Where else?"

"... that's it," his voice trembled with a pitiable crack.

And it was even more pitiable when Mahasamut whispered in his ear.

"Do you know I won't forgive you easily?"

Then punish me.

"What should I do to make you not angry?"

Please, punish me. Do it until I don't dare to do this again.

Tongrak looked up with pleading eyes as the handsome, fierce face leaned in close.

"Find a way."

Fingertips caught his chin, forcing him to meet those wild eyes, and before his brain could catch up, Tongrak opened his mouth to a kiss that plunged in fiercely, tasting almost blood. His heart raced with excitement, his body pressing against the larger frame, his hips grinding against the other's, shamelessly close as their tongues waged war.

Mahasamut liked kissing him, but this time it was hotter, more violent, and savage without tenderness. His sharp teeth nipped at Tongrak's lower lip, making him whimper, but the other man didn't listen to his protests, instead plunging his tongue into Tongrak's mouth, greedy and unrelenting. Pressed against the wall with no space between them, a large hand groped his thigh, fingers trailing to the very inside but refusing to touch further.

It was Tongrak himself who pressed his lower body closer, grinding his hips.

"Mut, ah, Mut," he moaned and groaned, trying to press closer to that hand while his mouth was still captive.

Mahasamut kissed him as if to devour him.

Their tongues tangled fiercely until saliva trickled at the corners of their mouths, and the taller man moved to kiss around his cheeks, down his neck, his hot tongue tracing his jaw before flicking over his Adam's apple. Tongrak shuddered, tilting his head back, his pale hand reaching to grasp the firm flesh beneath the cargo pants.

It was hard and hot, and he wanted it in his mouth.

"Take off your underwear."

Mahasamut commanded beside his cheek, and the listener didn't hesitate to strip off his underwear on the porch, revealing his arousal that was embarrassingly wet with precum.

The tall figure stepped back just enough to stare at it, making Tongrak squirm.

"Take off my shirt."

Now, whatever Mahasamut ordered, Tongrak would comply easily. His fair hands reached to remove Mahasamut's Hawaiian shirt, trembling as he watched it fall to the floor, his heart skipping a beat when the larger man grabbed the hem of his tank top and pulled it over his head with swift movements, revealing the line of muscles that moved beautifully, leaving Tongrak to stare at the man before him.

"Ah!!"

"Do you want it that badly?"

Tongrak shivered when a fingertip touched his slick tip. With just a brush of a thumb, he was close to finishing right then.

"Just looking at me undress makes you this eager? You don't look at others like this, do you?"

"No..."

"I didn't say you could speak."

Tongrak immediately shut his mouth, trembling under the teasing fingers, then squeezing himself hard. He wanted to move, to press against the rough palm.

"It looks like you'll have to endure a bit more, Mr. Tongrak."

That's when the larger man pulled him into the bedroom and pushed Tongrak against the bed, making his upper body fall against the mattress while his legs still touched the floor, spread wide to reveal his eager flesh. Mahasamut's sharp gaze pressed down on him, and then... a wicked smile, he said, "Go on, finish for me."

"Mut..."

"Ssh," Mahasamut placed a finger on those pretty lips and pushed it into his mouth.

And with that, Tongrak flicked his tongue around the long finger, drawing it deep into his throat, while his smooth hand moved to grasp his own center. His legs spread wider, allowing the sharp gaze to see every part of him.

If Mahasamut wanted to see, he'd do it.

"Uh, ah..."

Even though Mahasamut was just watching, Tongrak felt waves of pleasure, moaning from his throat while still sucking on the long finger as if it were that hot flesh. His legs lifted higher, his hand moving faster, aware of the wet sounds and the glistening moisture.

The first time Tongrak pleasured himself in front of someone was for Mahasamut, and he relished the sharp gaze on him, the shadow that partly hid Mahasamut, the long finger thrusting into his throat mercilessly, the embarrassment that made his flesh tremble with excitement, his hips moving faster.

"Ah.... ah!"

At that moment, his beautiful eyes widened when a cool liquid was poured on his sweet spot, and before he could react...

Mahasamut's thick fingers penetrated the tender channel that was still soft from last night's sex, thrusting deep to his favorite spot, making him arch his back like a bow, his legs tensing against the bed, his buttocks lifting off the soft mattress.

"I didn't tell you to stop. Keep going."

Mahasamut pulled his finger from Tongrak's mouth, his voice firm. WIth his free hand, he lifted Tongrak's legs higher, allowing the long finger that had almost completely withdrawn to thrust back into his tight channel.

"Ah... ah, oh Mut, Mut, right there, harder."

Smack!

"Don't stop!"

Tongrak's eyes teared up as he was spanked on the buttocks, leaving a red mark. His fair hand, which had paused, stroked himself again while his hips swayed uncontrollably as Mahasamut kept pressing on the sensitive spot inside. His mouth opened wide, moaning incoherently.

"Don't stop, no more, give it to me again." Tongrak moved his hand faster, begging louder, oblivious to the squelching sounds echoing around the room. Then, his tearful eyes pleaded with the owner.

"No more fingers, enough, ah, give it to me... now."

"Tell me what you want."

Mahasamut rose above Tongrak's body, his large hand on the beautiful chin, whispering low. His fierce eyes stared down, squeezing to force the pretty one to speak with a trembling voice.

"Fuck me... Mut, take me... I want you... please."

That was all it took for Tongrak's world to flip upside down. He was pushed into a crawling position on the bed, his fair buttocks raised to receive, his legs spread wide, feeling the rough palm push both cheeks apart, forcing him to grip the bed sheet.

Tongrak's eyes widened, tears streaming down as the hot, hard member penetrated his tight hole. It was hot, big, almost suffocating, but it made him climax instantly, his cries echoing throughout the room, and then...

"Ah!!!!"

"Who told you to cum?"

Just as it thrust in deep, Tongrak... finished.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Rak's sorry, ah... sob, ah."

Tongrak cried out unintelligibly before jolting, his smooth hand grabbing the neck of the person behind him as the hot, hard flesh thrust in again. His tears flowed with intense pleasure. He knew that the already fierce Mahasamut was more violent than usual, not allowing him to rest, deliberately thrusting hard to drive him crazy. The large hand grabbed his front, stroking briefly before it was as hard as before.

"Rak, Rak's sorry, ah."

Mahasamut turned Tongrak's face to receive a hot kiss, forcing his tongue out to tangle outside his mouth while the other hand slipped through the remaining buttons of his shirt, pushing him to kneel on the bed, pulling him up to lean against the broad back, making way for the hot, thrusting member inside him.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed throughout the spacious room, igniting the desires of both parties and causing him to flare up intensely. Tongues entwined outside of their mouths, a lovely piece of flesh released a continuous stream of slick moisture. Then, the fair body shuddered as a large hand squeezed and teased a sweetly colored nub, pulling it until Tongrak quivered with a cold shock.

"it hurts..."

"Do you like it?"

"I like it. Squeeze again. Make it hurt. Ah, make Rak learn his lesson... Mut!" Tongrak cried out embarrassingly, yet his hips met each thrust without yielding.

And so, Mahasamut pulled the fair frame down to sit astride his lap, and before Tongrak could tense his legs to receive him, the large hand gripped his hips, lifting them just enough to...

"Ah!!!! Mut, too hard. Mn, it tingles, ah..."

Mahasamut relentlessly drove into him, plunging deep inside until it was overwhelming yet sending shivers of pleasure throughout his body, making him cry out loudly. Tongrak's hands clutched at the man behind him, who was panting and trembling. Mahasamut's deep, sexy voice resonated in Mahasamut's ears with sobs and gasps, unable to stop his hips.

Again, I can't, I can't...

"Ah!!!!"

Without waiting long, Tongrak released a cloudy white fluid that sprayed all the way to the headboard while strong arms locked around his waist, the strong hips pounding him fiercely. The deep voice filled the room before Tongrak felt a wave of warmth as the hot liquid overflowed inside him.

"Wait, wait, just a moment, let me rest."

"When did I say you could rest?"

Tongrak's voice shook as he was flipped to lie on his back, one leg pushed up almost against his own chest, but he was paralyzed when he met the sharp gaze directed at him.

Tongrak should've been scared, but why was he trembling with excitement instead?

Mahasamut was fierce, wild, and unyielding, like the sea during a storm, but Tongrak couldn't take his eyes off the man before him. This man was dangerously handsome, and he couldn't resist him. Before he could brace himself, he gasped and grabbed the large hand tightly as the handsome face buried itself in his tight entrance, pushing a tongue inside selfishly.

Damn it, even after all this...

"Harder, ah, it feels good. Go deeper, lick more. I like it so much."

He moaned, clutching the thick black hair tightly, ready to receive any punishment this man was willing to give.

Tongrak knew he shouldn't feel this way, but he... liked it when Mahasamut was jealous.

He liked everything about this man.

---

---

Maybe I should make him jealous again.

The thought occurred to him that if Mahasamut heard it, he'd be punished so much that he wouldn't be able to leave the bed.

But what could he do? He liked it!

It didn't matter. He was still paying Mahasamut, but this time paying with the currency called Tongrak.

[zvdvdlvr]

Could you please write an imagine based on the episode where Greg House gives a lecture about the three cases and he's one of them (where we first see Stacy).

Reader is one of the students there, gives the correct answers, therefore grabs his attention and he offers a job and they end up dating

Thanks in advance!

chasing you ✩ gregory house

“What color is your pee?”

You watched House interrogate one of the few students that had been giving input on his three stories.

“Yellow,” she replied with a sharp tone.

“And what color is your blood?”

“Red.”

House nodded. “Yes. And what colors did I use to make this tea color?”

The female student stammers as she replies with “red, yellow, and brown.”

The man clicks his tongue. “And brown. How do we get the brown color?”

“Waste-“

“Thank means the kidneys are shutting down,” House cut in. “Why?”

“Could be damage done by the self injection. He has no history of trauma.

“Treatment?”

House’s rapidfire questions had rattled the woman, but she stiller answered. “Heat and rest-“

“Other possible causes?”

“Infection.”

House nodded. “Start him on antibiotics. What else?”

Silence filled the room. House looked around, expecting an answer. “Come on! What is it?”

“I-I don’t know,” the student admits. She looks away.

House sighs and walks down the steps. The paper with the tea color crumpled in his hand.

“You know, it’s hard to think with you in our faces,” starts the annoying student right up front.

“Yeah?” House scoffs. “You think it’s gonna be any easier with a real patient really dying?”

The guy looked down. Once again, silence reigned over the room as House prepared himself to speak. Until… you opened your mouth.

“The unknown factor would be muscle death.”

House looks up. Near the back of the auditorium by the window on the far left. A student House originally thought was uninterested. Sure, House had seen you around the hospital- practically every wide-eyed intern or student had met the witty man but he had never spoken to you.

Which was odd considering he took a little joy in making the interns and students squirm- especially the pretty ones. House was surprised he’d never even caught your name.

When House’s mouth opened and closed twice, you resumed carefully. “The dying muscle leaks myoglobin which is toxic to the kidneys. There’s your brown, Doctor.”

“Brilliant,” House murmured. He eyed you carefully as he went on. “MRI the leg. See what’s killing it.”

The Heath Ledger dupe spoke up again. “Why is the girl getting the MRI?”

“Because the neck skan revealed nothing and her doctor’s way more obsessive than she thinks she is.”

Heath tilted his head. “But you said the guy needed the MRI.”

“Because the mysteriously smart girl over there said muscle death. Not one of you came up with that. Not one of this guy’s doctors came up with it either,” he replied harshly. “They gave him bed rest and antibiotics- just like you guys would’ve.”

“Does he get better?” The female student from before asked.

House clicks his tongue. “No.”

“How long-“

“Three days.” He looks around the room, stalling when he made eye contact with you. “It is in the nature of medicine that you’re going to screw up. You are going to kill someone. If you can’t handle that reality, pick a new profession. Or finish medical school and teach.”

The female student from before spoke up. “It took three days for them to figure out about the muscle death?”

House shook his head. After heaving a sigh he answers “No, it took three days for the patient to suggest muscle death.”

“What caused the muscle pain?” You asked. “Was it- was it a clot?”

House nodded. “Don’t steal my thunder, young padawan. But… yes. A clotted aneurysm lead to an infarction in the patient’s leg.”

You nodded as House examined you intently as he went on. “After the surgery to remove the clot, the patient went in to wide complex tachycardia… The patient was technically dead for over a minute.”

“Do you think he was dead? Do you think those experiences were real?”

Every head in the room turned to the back. There stood James Wilson, leaning on the door. He looked knowingly at House, like he knew something everyone didn’t.

“Define real,” House shot back. “They were re experiences… What they meant- personally, I choose to believe that the white light people sometimes see, visions this patient saw… They’re all just chemical reactions that happen when the brain shuts down.”

“You ‘choose’ to believe that?” You ask curiously.

House’s eyes dart back over to you. “There’s no conclusive science. My choice has no practical relevance to my life,” he replies. As he starts to pace slowly around the front of the room, he proceeds. “I choose the outcome I find more comforting.”

“You find it comforting to believe that this is it?” Wilson asks accusingly.

House blinks. “I find it more comforting to believe that this isn’t simply a test.”

Everyone sat, listening closely to House’s every word. No other sounds could be heard despite House’s cane movement. He explained how, once the patient was put into a medically induced coma, his trusted proxy had made the decision to remove the dead muscle from his leg.

“Because of the extent of the muscle removed, the utility of the patient’s leg was severely compromised,” he told everyone slowly. “Because of the time delay in making the diagnosis, the patient continues to suffer chronic pain.” He tilted his head up to look at the crowd in front of him and then dropped his head to look at his hands.

“She had no right to do that,” piped up a different female student.

Heath Ledger look-alike scoffed. “She had the proxy.”

The woman argued back, “She knew he didn’t want the surgery!”

“Well, she saved his life,” Heath Ledger responded.

“We don’t know that,” the guy in the front row cut in. “Maybe he would’ve been fine.”

“Still, it’s the patient’s call!”

Heath Ledger shrugged. “Patient’s an idiot.”

“They usually are,” House agreed. “Do you have a buzzer? What time does this class end?”

This time, a mew voice answered House’s question. “20 minutes ago.”

For a moment, House looked at Cuddy with an unreadable expression. Then he clicked his tongue and stood up. “I’m not doing this again,” he informed Cuddy. “And this guy is not the world’s greatest dad- not even ranked. Who the hell let’s their kids play with lead based paint? That’s why he’s always sick. Find him some plastic cups and the class is all his again,” he told Cuddy, placing the yellow hand-painted mug in her hands. He started to walk out, but paused and hobbled back to point his cane directly at you. “Except you. Come with me.”

With haste, you gathered you books and writing utensils and shoved them into your bag. As you followed the limping man out of the classroom, you felt everyone’s eyes on you.

“I have a job for you if you want it,” House tell you finally, stopping in front of a door. “It’s tough, people lie to you every day, and we don’t even have decent coffee.”

You look from him to the door that reads ‘Gregory House M.D. - Head of Diagnostic Medicine’. “I have literally spoken to you three times. How do you know I won’t accept the job, wait until you trust me, and then steal all your money and leave?”

House paused. “Good question. Will you accept the job, wait until I trust you, and then steal all my money and leave?”

“Probably not,” you reply.

“Great!” House exclaims. “You’re hired.”

Over the course of the next few month, you had clicked immediately with Chase. You spoke passionately about different types of literature with Cameron, and joked with Foreman about anything and everything.

Your relationship with House was complicated to say the least. During your first official case, House insisted he followed you everywhere. You more than understood his hesitance to let you do tests completely on your own. But when he limped around, tracking you like a damn dog… you wondered why he still hadn’t trusted you enough.

To your fortune, Wilson had cornered you in the cafeteria as you were getting lunch. “We need to talk,” he had said before plopping down next to you.

You paused, looking up from your cafeteria spaghetti. “About what?”

“House.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

Wilson looked at you with an expectant expression. “Because I want to know what you said. Duh.”

“I think I’m missing something,” you told him. “What was I supposed to say to him? What was he supposed to say to me?”

Wilson dropped his silverware. “Are you serious? He didn’t- You don’t- What?”

“I’m lost here, Wilson,” you tell him.

Wilson looks around suspiciously before licking his lips. “So… you know how the medical gala is coming up?”

Nodding, you shove a forkful of noodles in your mouth. “Chase won’t shut up about seeing ‘all the hot babes in tight dresses’ or something,” you inform Wilson.

After guffawing over your imitation of Chase’s accent, he gets serious. “It’s in a week. Are you sure he hasn’t talked to you?”

You throw your hands up and sigh. “Just spit it out already, Wilson. I feel like a high schooler trying to get my friends tell me who they have a cute little crush on. Tell me or I’m gonna pop a blood vessel!”

Wilson looks away. “I can’t. I’m scared of House.”

With that, he picks up his tray and goes to leave.

“Bye bye, Willie!” You call.

James turns and glares at you before walking out of the room. You chuckle and attempt to finish your meal before your beeper will inevitably go off.

You just start chowing down on the garlic bread (read: bread with butter and garlic) when you hear the dreaded beeping. You bite off a large chunk of the bread and dump your tray before reading the ‘MY OFFICE- EMERGENCY’ that was from House.

When you finally pushed open the door, you saw House facing the window outside.

“Is our patient with the living?” You ask, taking a step towards House.

House doesn’t turn around. “I need you to go to the winter gala thing with me.”

You stiffen up. Throughout your whole body, your muscles tighten as your freeze midstep. Your face drains of blood and your heart feels like it just dropped into your stomach and was dissolved by the acid. Bile had just started rising up your esophagus when House turns.

“Don’t look so excited,” he insists sarcastically. “But seriously. Why are you looking at me like I have a tumor growing out of my eyeball?”

“No,” you mutter raspily. “Take Cameron.”

House’s eyebrows furrow as you turn on your heel and start to leave.

“Why won’t you go with me?”

You gnaw deeply at your lip as you turn. To your surprise, House was standing- watching you leave without his cane in his hand. “Go with Cameron,” you say again. “I don’t- I’m- No. Just no.”

“Y/n, why-“

You practically run out the door before Greg can even say your name. He stands by his desk, staring intently at the ground where you just stood. “Hm,” he hums. He sighs and thinks about what to say to you next.

The next three days consist of House trying and failing to speak to you. To his own surprise, you have completely stopped talking about personal matters with him and have withdrawn any of your own opinions except for facts having to do with the patient.

House had just finished off another bottle of pills when Foreman barged into the room. “What did you say?”

House blinks. “Uhh… to who? Where? When?”

“To y/n, House. What did you say to y/n?”

“I told her that I needed her to go to the winter gala with me,” House answered truthfully. “Why? Has she said anything to you?”

Foreman flops down in the chair facing House. “Do you like her?”

“Well, I hired her, didn’t I?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, House,” Foreman snaps. “Answer me. Do you like her?”

A moment of silence fills the air. House thinks back to the first time he interacted with you- how confidently you completely the puzzle that certified doctor’s couldn’t figure out. How you had matched House’s wit on your very first day. How you- despite being babysat- had completed every test and blood swab and every challenge House had put in your way. How your face often spoke before you did, how House unconsciously searched for you in a crowd, how House looked for your input after almost anything is said, how House wants your company.

“No,” he answers. “Yes. Maybe. Why?”

Foreman looks at House like he’s stupid. “Because she likes you! How have you not figured that out?!”

“Uh, maybe because of the fact that she seemed to want to projectile vomit all over me and then sprinted out of the room? Sorry, I was too focused on the horror in her eyes to consider the fact that y/n really wants that enemies to lovers trope in real life,” House rambled.

“She thinks you’re gonna make a fool out of her, House, and I think you are too,” Foreman answers. He stares at House, searching for information he won’t get. “But… you’re less abrasive when she’s around.”

“You’re acting like she’s your precious little baby sister about to be wed to an evil ogre in the woods,” Greg mutters.

Nodding, Foreman quirked his eyebrows. “I feel like I am.”

House looks at Foreman for a long moment. “Why did you come here to tell me this?”

Eric heaves out a sigh heavy enough to know down an elephant. “Because she wants you to mean it. Y/n wants you to want her. To show her that you want her.”

“I see.”

Foreman nodded. “Don’t tell her I conversed with the enemy.”

Greg scoffed. “As if she’d voluntarily talk to me.”

Eric’s face turned sympathetic. “Just talk to her. Show her this isn’t some whim to- I don’t know, win a bet against Cuddy. Show her you feel the same.”

It was the day of the gala when House found you testing a patient’s blood. You whispered lyrics to a song Greg didn’t know as he stealthily approached you.

“Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat in a weird choking noise as you leapt back. “Christ, House!”

“Sorry,” House said with a very unapologetic tone. “I want to talk to you.”

“About what?” You ask plainly, looking through the low power lens of the microscope.

House leans on the table as you adjust the stage. “About… the dance. Tonight.”

You adjust the fine adjustment knob slowly, clicking your tongue unconciously. “What do you have to tell me?”

Greg looks around the lab awkwardly. He silently tried to encourage himself, mentally recalling the nights before, thinking about what to say to you. “I want to formally ask you to go to the gala with me.”

You stand at full height, facing him directly. House held his breath. He was so close to you, he thought he felt your breath on his face. “I don’t want to go. With you, Cameron, Chase, or Foreman. I don’t want to go.”

“Why?” House asked immediately.

You shake your head. “I’m-These things never go well for me House. Besides, you could just go with Cameron. I know she’s dying to go with you.”

House watches you watch him. “I don’t want to go to Cameron. I want to go with you,” he admits lowly.

“And why do you want to go with me?”

House pauses to see your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips- so fast that he almost didn’t notice. “Because I don’t like her the way I like you.’’

You swallow. “How do you like me, House?”

“Like this,” he tells you before dropping his cane and grabbing your waist. Hearing no complaints from you, Greg pulls you close to him and brings his face close to yours. At this point, House swears his vision is blurred by how fast his heart his pumping. House’s hold on your waist is possessive, protective. He hesitates, hoping you won’t reject him now.

You- thankfully- understand the words House is trying to tell you through his eyes. You carefully let your hand cup the nape of House’s neck and pull his lips down to yours. A breathless moan escapes your lips as Greg pulls you flush against him.

House’s head- for once- is silent. And his leg doesn’t seem to hurt quite so bad with your hands on his body: feeling him like he’s only dreamt about before.

And then- when you do pull back- House keeps his grip on your waist as he looks you in the eyes. “I want to go to the gala with you. If you don’t have a dress, then we can just go home.”

Your flushed lips pull into a dazed smile. “How much cleavage do you want to see?”

House groans and lets his head fall back as his eyes close. “As long as I can take it off tonight and any other day I don’t care.”

“Is that- Are you- Are you hinting at commitment? Who are you and what have you done with Gregory House?”

House guffaws sarcastically. “Careful, there. I could get you fired.”

You just laugh. “Yeah, and have the others bicker like siblings and let patients almost die thrice before diagnosing them? I don’t think so.”

“You know, you have a pretty big ego for someone who hasn’t worked here for a full year, yet,” House chides.

Scoffing, you attempt to return to the blood you were looking at before House interrupted you. “First of all, you would know about egos. Second of all, I’m good. Cuddy has spoken to me… about other positions,” you tell him vaguely.

House is taken so off guard, his arms go limp. “What?”

“Nothing I accepted,” you answer, turning back to the microscope.

House just hums. “Good.”

You murmur a quiet ‘good’ in reply. “I know how to cure this guy,” you breathe quietly. With a growing smile, you take the slide off the stage and turn off the microscope before discarding the bio-waste.

House struggled to keep up with how fast you were walking, but your kiss had definitely left him chasing you- literally and figuratively.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Are You Sure?! Episode 4 observations

8.5/10 ☆

When will Army cancel Jimin and Jungkook? When will ot7 jikookers and vminers and vminkookers make call out posts for them? Jimin and Jungkook should express that all encompassing love for the entire members of their group all the time. Pointing out throughout the entire first day that Tedros is their guest or that they he should leave if he doesn't like it, that he's looking for attention or that AYS is their show, not for other people, was giving mean girls behavior. How is that nice? They love their guest but they're shading him. I think we should totally cancel Jikook!

But how the tables have turned once the kid that tagged along went to bed and the adults could play. Oh, we were back to Connecticut vibes once again. Which are basically the usual jikook vibes in where every little game needs to have a hint of flirtation (I wonder what Jimin would have done if Jungkook wouldn't have warned him about the glass part in the pool? Jimin was in slytherin mode the minute he took off his clothes).

From enganging in intricate rituals to touch each other (as always) to go through a long negotation over eating ramyeon or not (what's ppeuriri got to do with everything? I love their inside jokes and hate them at the same time. Let me in!!!! I was waiting for the bj brothers and when they deliver even some innuendos, it riles me up).

I'm not a BL fan of regular watcher, but this looks like the beginning of one of those steamy scenes where they show them fuck on some balcony or in the pool. Just sayin'.

Say yes and eat the damn ramyeon, Jungkook!

I like Jikook's nighttime routines. Although so far they have been quite tame, no drinking or other shenanigans. They do teeth brushing yoga or they cuddle up and talk about work and their schedules before bed. And there's no bed without Jimin's legs all over Jungkook (I'm sure he must be dreaming of those thighs at this point).

Can it get more domestic than Jungkook talking to his mother and her already knowing about their schedule?

I have a feeling she and Jimin text each other regularly. Oh, if only they had filmed just a bit during their Chuseok weekend in Busan (I do assume Jimin went too, but 🤷‍♀️). I need to see Jimin with Jungkook's mother. She would dot on him and Jimin would be so respectful but shy and oh, I get all giddy just thinking about him. Busan boys, please visit your home town one day and share that with the world!

I refuse to accept the existence of Jimkook, sounds ugly, forced, it doesn't roll off the tongue. But Jikook? Yeah, that works. And they were in full jikook mode on the boat. That embarrassing CPR manouver by Jimin is yet another sign that they will remain that cringe couple. How did Tedros survive on that boat? No wonder he took a step back from all that up until the end.

The entire afternoon on the boat really gave us a glimpse into their original plans and how once again, they just click. They never push it, they want to do the same things and they have fun. And we still got the cuddle and drawing whales out of clouds without that moment turning into something else.

When Jimin is in top shape, without any other illness looming over their vacation, then we know we're in for some entertainment. He's much more engaging and laughs at everything while Jungkook is right there next to him, ready to joint whatever Jimin wants to do.

(Who would have thought that Tedros headbanging the first day would make him take a step back and allow them to do their own thing how they originally planned? I have lots to say about him, but for another post, there's too many nice things that happened and I focus on that at first)

And now, a few more highlights:

What is this? Cutie Jiminie who can also get angry while stuffing his face with rice and noodles and chicken all at the same time? You are what you eat. Or whom 🤭

Jungkook has always been an expert at such lines, how can Jimin still be surprised after a decade? That's what you get. You have the tattoed guy who's really into bikes and Jimin who is clearly into all that, but he's gotta take the lame lines too.

[tasteleeknow]

º.☆・ ⇢ HURT/COMFORT WITH SKZ

genre: fluff, angst. content warnings: insecurities, depression, jealousy, fear of the dark, accidental injury, minor illness, alcohol use, driving anxiety word count: 4.6k (500 each)

a/n: my first ot8 post as a little thank you for 2k! i appreciate you so much both for reading and leaving feedback. hope you enjoy this too!

CHAN — his insecurities are getting to him

“But…you said we could go today…” you mutter, struggling to keep the disappointment from your voice. You’d been looking forward to this day all week. Your boyfriend had promised you’d finally go to the art exhibition in the city. It would be ending soon and then it would be gone forever. 

Your boyfriend looks up from where he is hunched over his desk, where he had been scribbling something in a notebook. “I just can’t today.” 

“Is it work?” 

He looks back at the paper, pen halted. “No.” 

“What’s so important that it has to be done today?” 

“Go with Hyunjin instead.” 

You take a step back, caught off guard. “What?”

“Hyunjin likes art, I’m sure he’d be stoked to go with you.” 

You instinctively look down at your phone, having just texted your roommate minutes earlier. “Yeah, he probably would. But I want to go with you.” 

Chan stands from his desk, keeping his back to you. You watch as he fiddles with his pen for a moment before dropping it and finally turning to face you. “Do you really?”

You frown, walking over to him and adjusting his necklace where it had twisted around his neck. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want to do something with my boyfriend?” 

He’s quiet for a moment.. Most of the time he just speaks, letting whatever he was thinking out—no filters or barriers. You loved him for it, for speaking his mind so freely. These moments when he was clearly preparing his words before voicing them are rare, so you wait. You wait, knowing he was taking a moment to gather his thoughts and that any interruption would throw him off track. 

“Do you ever wonder if someone else would be better for you? If we don’t…click as well as we should?” he finally says, eyes cast down. 

You drop your hands from his necklace, the one you’d gifted for his previous birthday. “No,” you answer without hesitation. “Do you?” 

“Can you…think about it for a moment… before answering. It’s important.” 

“I don’t need to think about it. I’m being honest. I’ve never wondered that and I’ve never had any doubts about you. About us.” You watch as his brows draw together, clearly lost in thought again. “Have you?” you ask him again. 

“I wonder…if someone like Hyunjin might make you happier.” 

You glance at the desk, where the notebook lays open—his scribbled handwriting filling the page. “Have you been feeling bad again?” you ask. 

He looks over his shoulder, following your eyeline. He takes a step back to close the book. You step up to him, trailing your hand up his chest to rest over his heart. “It’s okay, I wasn’t trying to read it. I just…want you to tell me when you’re feeling bad. So I can be here for you.” 

He takes a step away from you, your hand dropping from his chest. “But that’s the problem. I’m always having these episodes; days where I don’t want to leave the house or where I feel so low I feel like I bring you down with me.” 

“Why are you writing?” you ask, a flicker of panic crossing his face at your question. “I’m not asking what you’re writing. Just why you’re doing it.” 

“Because…it…makes it better. Helps.”

“You’re working on it. You’re doing things you’ve been taught will help you get better and that’s why it’s not a problem. You love me and I love you and we are working on ways to be better people because we love each other. Right?” 

“I do… want to be better for you,” he says, pressing his own hand over his heart. 

“And for you?”

A small smile crosses his lips. “And for me.” 

You match his smile, stepping close so you can wrap your arms around him. “I love you now and I’ll love you when you love yourself too.” His arms tighten around you. “I can’t wait,” you finish. 

MINHO — you’re afraid of the dark

“400,” you announce, grinning at your boyfriend across the table.

A grumble of thunder distracts his attention to the window behind you before he looks at you again. “Why the fuck is it 400?”

“I own all 4,” you say, pointing to your monopoly cards.

“This game is stupid.”

“It was invented as a critique of landlords and capitalism, it’s meant to be stupid.”

“Be a nice landlord and give me a free pass.”

“No. Pay up.”

He grumbles, slapping the money in your palm just as your apartment goes dark. You yelp, dropping the paper money and reaching blindly across the table until you feel your boyfriends arm.

“Blackout,” he says, stating the obvious. He stands from the table before you have a proper grip, leaving you stranded. You stand, feeling around the table for him.

“Where are you? Minho?”

“Just getting my phone,” he replies, already sounding much too far away.

You reach out into the darkness, relying purely on your memory of your apartment to navigate. “Come back, please. Minho! Please.”

“Boo,” he whispers, right at your side. You grip his arm, too relieved to be mad at him for attempting to make you jump. The screen from his phone lights up his face, then he turns on his torch.

“I’m gonna find some candles, you wanna stay here?”

“No.”

“I can get your phone? Won’t be dark.”

“Wanna come.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Poor baby.”

“Shut up.”

You keep your arm on his as he leads you through to the kitchen, standing right by him as he crouches down to dig through a drawer. You hold the torch for him until he stands, holding a few candles and a matchbox.

“Where do you wanna set up camp? Are we finishing the game?”

You shake your head.

“Bath?” he suggests.

“In the dark?”

He holds the candles up. “Come on.”

He leads you to the bathroom and you’re forced to let go of him as he sets up the candles and leans into the tub to turn the water on. You turn to look behind you occasionally, the pitch black hallway making you feel uneasy.

Minho’s breath tickles your neck as he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Would you like help?” he asks, fingers moving to fiddle with the buttons on your jeans.

You look up at the dark doorway. “Could you... shut that?”

He kisses your cheek then moves around you to shut the door as you pull your clothes off. The room is barely lit, the reflection of the candles in the mirror making the small bathroom seem much bigger. He pulls his shirt over his head as he approaches you.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you. Yeah?” You nod and he leans around you to turn the water off. “Hop in.”

You lower yourself into the warm water, watching as your boyfriend removes the rest of his clothes. You shuffle aside to make room as he joins you, lying back so his head rests on the soft neck rest you’d bought him for christmas. He hold his arms up, beckoning you onto him. “C’mere.”

You climb over him, pressing your chest against his and resting your head on his shoulder—just above the waterline. His arms wrap around you.

“Good?” he asks.

You close your eyes, surrounded by warmth. The darkness feels far away. “Mm, good.” 

CHANGBIN — he accidentally hurts you

It was an old injury, so old you’d only ever mentioned it in passing once. You’d get a twinge in your wrist occasionally but apart from that, you practically forgot about it yourself. That’s why when your boyfriend challenges you to an arm wrestle, you don’t hesitate to say yes. You were equally competitive, you challenged each other to silly little games constantly. 

“You’re not gonna let me win?” 

“Have I ever?” 

“Fair.” You settle yourself over the counter, opposite him. He presses his palm to the smooth surface, offering an example for you to mirror. He grasps your hand in his, pulling you over the counter a little more so he can press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Ok, ready,” he says, allowing you to resume your starting position. 

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing over his shoulder with your free hand. As soon as he turns his head you start, pulling with all your strength. You manage to get him halfway down to the counter before he stops you, easily turning the tables. He puts more strength into it than he needs to, thrown off by your headstart. A sharp pain runs up your arm as your hand slams into the counter. 

You pull your hand back to your chest, cradling it against your body as you scrunch your eyes shut—waiting for the pain to dull. It’ll pass, it’ll pass… you repeat to yourself. A soft touch on your shoulder alerts you to the fact Changbin has moved around the counter to your side. “Just a sec,” you mutter, unable to speak properly until the pain has dulled. 

“Let me see,” he says, sounding stoic. He sounds so calm that you’re completely caught off guard when you look up at him and see his eyes watery. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him cry. It’s so shocking it distracts you entirely from the now dull wrist pain. 

You let him lift your hand gently as you watch his face. “Can you move it?” he says, inspecting your skin as if tracking down the source of your pain would remedy it. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just that old injury flaring up.” You pull your hand from him easily, the hold he has on you so gentle it offers no resistance. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

You lift his chin with your fingers, his gaze pointed towards the floor. “Was just karma for trying to cheat,” you say, a small smile on your face as you attempt to lighten the mood. 

It doesn’t work, your boyfriend's eyes fix on your wrist—his eyes reminding you of a kicked puppy. You give him no warning when you jump on him, wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands come to support you naturally, a reflexive response to the way you’d greet him every day. 

“Wasn’t your fault,” you mumble against his neck. “I’d forgotten about it too, honestly. S’okay.” 

“Does it still hurt?” 

You pull back from him enough to hold the inside of your wrist up to his mouth. His eyes flick between yours, confused for a moment. Then he brings his lips to your skin, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist. 

“Not anymore,” you whisper, offering him a small smile before replacing your wrist with your lips—pressing lightly against his. 

HYUNJIN — he thinks you don’t love him as much as he loves you

Your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic. You loved that about him, truly. The only problem was when you felt like you struggled to meet his expectations; when you didn’t express your love in a way that fit with his love language. He would wilt. 

“Jinnie? Please talk to me,” you encourage, lifting the blanket from your boyfriend's head. He rolls over to face the wall, ignoring you. You sigh, lying down next to him—resting your hands under your head as you stare at his back. 

“It’s okay,” he says, still facing the wall. “I love you more than you love me, I just have to…accept it.” 

You reach to grab his shoulder, forcing him to roll onto his back so you can crawl over him. You stroke his forehead gently, brushing away a non-existent lock of hair—a habit you hadn’t yet abandoned since he’d cut his hair short. “Stop saying that, it hurts me.” 

His brows pull together as his plush lips press together firmly. “You said you needed space.” 

“Yes, that is what I said. I didn’t say ‘I love you less than you love me’.” 

He looks confused but he shifts a little, bringing his hands up to rest against your thighs. “I’ve never wanted space from you. I want you always.” 

His cheeks are rosy and you can’t help brushing your thumbs across them, cradling his face in your hands. “If I had to see anyone else as much as I see you, I’d lose my mind. It’s because I love you so much that I ask for my own space so rarely,” you finish. 

“Do I bother you? Is that why you asked?” 

“Sometimes anything external irritates me. Anything. My clothes on my skin, a notification on my phone. I just need to be alone sometimes, completely. No notifications, no sound, no other person. Even you. Even though you’re my favourite person ever.” 

“Ever?”

“Ever, ever,” you smile, moving one of your thumbs to brush over his lips. You pull his bottom lip down gently, he’s much more relaxed now. “We are different people, hm? It’d be boring if we were exactly the same.” 

“Mm,” he agrees, pulling you down against him. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart as you rise and fall gently with his breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Sometimes…I get…scared that you could never feel…as much as I do. So one day you’ll just…have had enough of me and because I know that won’t happen for me…it feels like…a clock is ticking down.” 

“You have to trust me. If you really love me, you’ll trust me when I tell you how I feel. I promise I’ll always be honest, hm?” 

“Yeah,” he says, the vibration of his voice in his chest against your ear. 

“I promise I love you,” you say, lifting your head to whisper against his lips. 

“I promise I love you, too.” 

JISUNG — takes care of you when you’re drunk

You stumble up the steps, fiddling with your keys as your friend drives away. You drop them just as the door opens, stumbling forward into Jisungs arms as you lose your balance trying to bend down. He catches you, holding you upright until you're steady. Then he bends down, snatching the keys and poking his head out to look down the street. 

“Where’s your friend?” 

You smile. “Left.” 

He frowns. “Before I opened the door?” 

You reach out to stroke his hair. “You look so cute when you’re worried.” You kick your shoes off, stumbling into your apartment until you find the couch. “What time is it?” you mumble, struggling not to fall sideways and sleep right there in the living room. 

Your roommate drops the keys in the little box near the door before following you, dropping to his knees at your feet. You reach to pet his head again. “You’re a good friend,” you slur, giggling when he frowns. He lets you pull the corners of his mouth up into a smile then he stands, holding his hand out to help you up. 

“Bed,” he says, grunting a little as he pulls you up—your legs practically jelly. You fall into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder. You almost fall asleep just trying to walk to your room, collapsing onto your bed the second Jisung releases you. You close your eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness as Jisung moves around the room. 

He’s leaning over you, trying to touch your face. “Sleep,” you mumble, attempting to push his hand away. He holds your hand down on the bed. 

“Just let me clean this off, yeah?” he says, attempting to wipe the makeup off your face. You relent, going limp to let him work. 

“Sungie?” 

“Mm?”

“You’re a good friend.” 

“You’re completely off your head,” he laughs. “Will you remember this tomorrow?” 

“Maaaybe.” 

“Maybe,” he repeats, the cloth against your face halting for a moment. “Did you…meet anyone tonight?” he asks, resuming his makeup removal service. 

“My friends,” you mumble. 

“I meant…ya know…like flirted with anyone.” 

You giggle, reaching for Jisung’s arm. “Do you flirt, Sungie?” 

“No.” 

“Whyy?”

“There’s no one I want to flirt with.” 

You pout, sitting up and squishing his cheeks between your fingers. “That’s sad, poor Sungie.” 

“I’m not sad. I’m happy.” 

“You are?” 

He reaches up to smooth down your hair. “Mm. I'm happy if you’re happy.” 

“What if I’m sad?”

“Then I’ll find what’s making you sad and take it away.” 

“You’re a good friend,” you yawn, falling back down onto your pillows. He leans down to press a kiss to your head. You reach out to grab his hand as he stands to leave. “Sungie?”

“Yes?” 

“Am I a good friend?” 

“You’re a good everything.” 

“...a good everything?” you mumble through another yawn, closing your eyes as Jisung intertwines your fingers. 

“Mm. You’re everything.” 

FELIX — you’re burnt out from uni/work

“What do you want for dinner?” your boyfriend asks gently. He’d been overly gentle with you all day, treating you like a cornered kitten. You loved him, but every question he asked you was wearing away at you. He’d suggested going to your favourite park, the colourful flowers and gentle breeze often did your mindset wonders. You didn’t want to get dressed. He’d put on your comfort film, the background noise was nice—but not enough to distract you from the heavyweight in your chest. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Pizza?” he asks, knowing it was your favourite—your go-to option when you were feeling low. You say nothing, closing your eyes and resting your head back against the couch. 

“Wanna go for a drive and pick it up?” Felix asks, making the decision for you. 

“No.” 

His gentle fingers trace across your knuckles, where you are gripping a pillow to your chest. You relax your grip. 

“I’ll order then,” he says, sounding a little dejected. You lift your head. It feels heavy on your neck. You fall into your boyfriend's lap, head resting against his thighs.  

“Thank you,” you whisper. His free hands come to your hair, stroking the strands gently just above your ear. 

“Anything you need?” 

“Just you,” you answer, closing your eyes again. The sound of the tv is the only noise in the room for the next 20 minutes, your boyfriend's fingers continuing their gentle ministrations in your hair. 

When the doorbell rings he lifts your head gently, replacing his lap with a pillow so he can answer the door. He’s gone not even a minute. That’s all the time you need for your eyes to fill with tears, suddenly completely overwhelmed. He places the pizza on the table then kneels by your side.

“Okay?” 

You open your mouth to speak, unable to get anything past your lips but an ugly sob. He jumps into action, lifting your head so he can resume his position on the couch. You press your face to his legs for a moment before lifting yourself to climb into his lap, wrapping yourself around him. “So tired,” you sob, his hand stroking up and down your back. 

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I wish—I wish I could take it away.” 

“Don’t—” you heave in a breath, already struggling to breathe through your uncontrollable sobbing. “Don’t leave.” 

“Shhh. Not going anywhere, promise. Right here…just breathe.” His voice wobbles a little, prompting you to pull back to look at his face. “Breathe for me,” he finishes. His eyes are watery to match yours, his cheeks already wet from where his tears had spilled over. 

You bring your hands to his cheeks, attempting to wipe them away. “Please don’t cry,” you sob. 

He huffs out a laugh through his tears. “You cried first.” 

“I didn’t mean to.” 

His eyes soften, pulling your head back down to rest on his shoulder. “I know.” He lets you cry into his shoulder until your head hurts, finally lifting you from his lap so he can bring you a box of tissues. He takes one for himself. You take in the scene you both make, blowing your noses as your pizza sits cold on the coffee table. 

Felix looks up at you, his nose bright red. You burst into laughter, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck again. “What’s funny?” he asks between sniffles. 

“Just love you.”

SEUNGMIN — he comes home to find you sick

You’re faintly aware of a knock at the door, too unwell to even consider getting up to answer it. Instead you groan as you roll over, reaching for the bottle of water on the ground by the couch. You struggle to sit up, lifting your head just enough to sip from the lip of the bottle. The door opens just as you look across the room longingly at the fan, wishing you had the energy to turn it on and drag it over to blow directly in your face. 

“Oh, you’re home. Why didn’t you—” your boyfriend pauses, taking in your sweaty form sprawled out on the couch. “What’s wrong?” 

You’re suddenly overwhelmed, the exhaustion from looking after yourself all day catching up with you. You reach out towards him as your face crumbles, a sob escaping your throat. You don’t see him approach you, your eyes squeezed closed as you feel his arms wrap around you. He pulls you into his lap, guiding your head to his shoulder. 

“You’re sick? Why didn’t you call?” 

“You were busy,” you gasp between sobs. 

He’s quiet, letting you gather yourself. It doesn’t take long, you don’t have the energy to cry. When you’re quiet he speaks again. “What do you need?” 

“Don’t wanna be sick anymore,” you whine, knowing he couldn’t actually take it away but feeling much like you did as a child—begging your mum to make it stop. 

“I know,” he says, palm rubbing up and down your back. “What else do you need?” 

“Sleep.” 

He stands, lifting you with him. Your legs dangle, too tired to cling to him like you usually do. He lowers your legs to the ground briefly so he can hook his arm under your legs and lift you properly. You wrap your arms around his neck weakly, relying on him entirely to hold you against him. 

“Should’ve called,” he mutters, turning to manoeuvre through your bedroom doorway. He lowers you gently to the bed then disappears into your ensuite bathroom. You close your eyes, a small pained sound escaping your throat. 

A cold cloth presses against your forehead and your eyes flutter open to take in the worried face of your boyfriend. “Have you taken anything?” he asks. 

“This morning.” 

He stands quickly, leaving the room without a word. When he returns he’s carrying a bottle of water and a small cup. “Swallow these,” he instructs, sitting down at the edge of the bed so he can help you sit. You do what he says, swallowing each tablet individually with a mouthful of water. 

He places his hand at the back of your head to lower you back against the pillow. “Sleep.” 

“Can’t sleep without you,” you mutter. He pulls his shirt over his head then crawls up next to you, wrapping his arm around you so he can pull you into him. “Do you think it’ll be gone when I wake?” you ask, trying to focus on the warm pressure of his body against your back. 

“Definitely,” he answers, sounding completely sure of himself. You close your eyes as his lips press to your neck, drifting out of consciousness almost immediately. 

JEONGIN — you panic while learning to drive

You’d been putting it off for years, the anxiety of learning to drive completely overwhelming. It wasn’t until your boyfriend offered to teach you that you finally worked up the courage. He made everything enjoyable, every grocery trip felt like a fun day out if you were with him.

“You’re ready to go out on the street,” he encourages again as your hands grip the wheel tightly. You’d only managed driving around an empty carpark so far. It was late on a Tuesday night, the streets were practically empty. 

“I…don’t think I am.” 

“I know you are.” 

You turn to look at your boyfriend, his eyes shining behind his round glasses. You suck in a deep breath, attempting to loosen your grip on the wheel a little. You ease your foot off the break, rolling forward slightly before pressing the accelerator down slowly. Jeongin is quiet next to you, patient as always. 

When you reach the exit you slam the breaks on, suddenly panicked by the open road ahead of you. “We’re going left,” your boyfriend says, still sounding totally calm and confident. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can.” 

“I can’t, I really can’t.” 

He rests his hand on your thigh. “Baby? Hey,” You take one hand off the wheel to grasp his hand. “You got it,” he finishes. 

Your heart races in your chest as you grip the wheel with both hands again, a shiver running through your body. Jeongin talks to you as you turn out into the street, giving you calm instructions and gentle encouragement. It isn’t until a car pulls out and follows directly behind you that you start to really panic, their headlights shining directly into the car. 

“The car,” you mutter, panic evident in your voice. 

“Ignore them,” your boyfriend says. “You can turn left at the next street.” Your eyes keep flicking to the rear view mirror, another shiver running through your body. Then they honk and you break too fast, swerving to pull up the side of the road. The car honks again as they speed past you, leaving you gasping for breath as you try to stay calm. 

A hand gently rests over yours and you look up to the man sitting in the passenger seat. He pulls his hoodie over his head. “Want me to take over?” he asks. You nod, pulling the handbrake on and stepping out of the car. 

He meets you half-way around the car, pulling his soft hoodie over your head and helping you push your arms through the sleeves. He’d often give you an item of his clothing when you were anxious, the smell of him close to you calming your nerves. The fabric is soft against your skin and you press the sleeve to your face as you climb into the passenger seat. 

You’re both quiet as your boyfriend drives, your heart slowing back to a normal rate as you watch the world go by. It isn’t until the car pulls into an unfamiliar car park that you realise you haven’t been heading home. Jeongin presses a button to open the sunroof then turns the engine off. He gestures to the back seat and you climb over the centre console, your boyfriend following close behind. 

He lays himself across the back seat and holds his arms open, beckoning you to join him. You press yourself against him, head resting against his shoulder—his arms around you prevent you from falling off the seats. You have a perfect view up to the clear night sky, your boyfriend's soft breath tickling your skin.

“You did well,” he says, breaking the silence finally. 

You huff. “I freaked out.”  

“You overcame your fear and drove on the roads,” he presses his lips to your temple. “Proud of you,” he mumbles against your skin. 

a/n: some of these are snippets from longer wips! may be seen again in longer form in the future...

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