#english peoples are apparently not real
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Don't trust the "AI detector" things. I just wanted to see how accurate it could be, as it's a great way to know if writers are real one or not. Asked random text to AI.
Out of 4, the thing detected 3 as "probably written by a human".
Then I put my own text to see⊠same, I put 4 differents one and 2 have been noted as "probably written by an AI"⊠should I precise all the text I put in this were written waaay before AI even exist XD (thoses I wrote when in high school and some recent but still before this crazy AI thing) The reason? (because yes, there is details about it) "this sentence look similare to another book, it's problably copyrithed work copied by the AI" ah, yes "Once upon a time" and "they lived happily ever after" are SOOOO rare in books!!
Also, every time a difficult word is used, or a sentence is a little weird (yeah I'm sorry, english not my first language, of course there is mistakes) it immediately detect it as AI. Like⊠humans can't use difficult words apparently XD
And I put a little part of the book I wrote all in ryhmes⊠and so I'm forced to put weird sentence to have the ryhmes right XD BTW, the random text I asked to the AI were sh*t. I think we don't need a detector to know when we see one.
Remember the AI detectors are actually AI tools too...
Oh also⊠I tried with the french version of my texts. The exact same texts I tried in english and the percentages was waaaay lower, it only got crazy about the ryhmes book again⊠but then, like⊠every english peoples are AI??
To the teachers who use this stupid thing, don't thrust it! Don't give detention just because that thing said the text of your student have been written by AI. You'll totally know it if it's the case!
OMG I'm thinking of all of the poor students who got detention unfairly because of this thing...
#ai detector#don't thrust ai detectors#once upon a time is apparently rare#writting in ryhmes is apparently impossible for humans XD#english peoples are apparently not real
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Watching The Case study of Vanitas, and so far, I love these little guys who are stupid gay and apparently French? Also the intro is a bop a banger and I was jumpscared by Noé showering
#naked man jumpscare#Murr is the best character actually#the intro is in Not English (Japanese maybe? idk actually I wasnât paying attention) the outro is in English#this takes place is France#and the characters drop some French sometimes#I see why people ship NoĂ© and Vanitas#I was completely thrown off by NoĂ©âs name tbh#in my head Iâve been saying it like ânoâ but nah apparently itâs âNo ayâ#this show is super cool- too bad France isnât real (/j)#vanitas no carte#the case study of vanitas
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i need to get over myself and learn the languages i want to learn if i want to learn them like i just need to do it if i want to learn them then i should go out and learn them and like . fuck whatever else any of it means . yes it IS embarrassing to learn a language like the ones i want to learn as an adult but who CARES and yes i KNOW my grandparents will never want to speak to me in those languages but who CARES if it's important to me it can be important to me anyway
#had a moment last night bc i was apparently having an identity crisis which was random#but i had a moment where i was like well even if i learn all these languages no one in my family is going to want to speak to me#in those languages because of [insert reasons i don't need to go into here] and so ultimately none of this is like . cultural Really#it's just me wanting to feel as though i am connected to something when i will never be#and maybe that's true or maybe it isn't but if i want to learn them i should learn them anyway like . at the end of the day#i DO want to learn those languages and i think it would be interesting and i would love to be able to speak to people#in those languages even if the people i speak to aren't related to me and i would love to be able to speak languages that aren't english#and that all stays true even if i am not able to have the cultural connection through language with my own family#like i can go on and on about how disconnected i feel from my culture bc of everything that has ever happened in my life#but how i still feel alienated bc i'm Not White to white people and all of that is true but not learning a language doesn't make it#any better and maybe learning a language won't make it better either but i think it's a better use of my time#ALSO !!!!! NO ONE EVER GOES OH WHY WLD U LEARN FRENCH OR SPANISH [OR INSERT EUROPEAN LANG HERE] u have no real cultural connection to it!!!#so like why is it different bc i want to learn asian languages??? it's not! except in my head! or maybe irl too but i'm just saying#that i think i make all of this a much bigger deal than it has to be#that being said i did just try to look up classes and they r all for children and about keeping children culturally connected 2 their famil#l m f a o but that can't be ALL the classes ............. i'll work it out is what i'm saying and i need 2 get OVER myself#bc none of it is that deep and i can feel conflicted all i like but i should fucking DO smth about it at least#anyway i am posting this in the hopes that i can beat it into my own head bc i am sick and tired of being weird about learning#languages and i need 2 get over my weird cultural identity issues if i want to like . live a life where i don't want to explode and die
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Ok, actually, I have an idea! What if the ghosts are bound to the boundaries of the place where they died WHEN they died. So Robin's territory mostly overlaps with Button House, but is actually bigger than the rest of their territories? And Mary and the Plague ghosts who were from the Village can go all the way to the village? Plague ghosts stay where they are because thats where their pit is, and Mary hasn't gone back to the village since they killed her. The German pilots died in a plane and they stay where that plane was when they died.
I fully support this theory and in that case I'm going to explain the bit in 3x06 where the main cast ghosts are all blocked at the gates as being that all the different generations' boundaries end at the gates on that side of the property.
In Robin's day there was a river there, which formed the natural boundary to his hunting grounds. The river itself dried up as the climate changed, but the river bed cut a straight line through the landscape and got used as the basis of a Roman Road from leading from London to Verulamium. (Since we know from 02x01 that Button House is canonically in Hertfordshire.) The road fell into disrepair after the fall of Rome, but it was still the quickest way to London. In the early Middle Ages it received a royal pavage grant and funds were raised for the road to be restored using taxes gathered by the bailiffs and goodmen of the neighbouring village. The additional taxation wasn't popular, but the road was in decent condition again by the time Mick the plague ghost takes for his ill-fated trip to London in 02x02. Of course post-plague the road started to become worse for wear again. Road repair was typically funded by taxation within nearby parishes, which meant a lack of funds when the pit crew's village disappeared. When populations began to rise again in the centuries following the black death, there was a lot of resentment by those living on the Bone estates (echoing similar resentments throughout England) that local residents were entirely on the hook for the upkeep of roads which were being damaged mostly by intercity travellers who were just passing through.
Good guy Humphrey decides to try and fix this by getting a special permission to levy a toll on usage of the road. If he invites Henry VIII to Bone House, the king will have personal experience of the poorly maintained road outside the house. If everything else about the visit goes well, then the king will be in the mood to grant favours - like an act of parliament allowing the Bone family to administer a special toll relieving the financial burden on the local residents and therefore also on the Bones themselves.
Humphrey spends loads of money on making the visit as lavish as possible, only to be stymied by a particularly indigestible swan which meant there was never a good time to ask about the road, as the king spent most of the visit in the privy as mentioned in 01x04.
In Mary's time, the road had become a full-fledged turnpike and it was a great relief to her and her husband that what had previously been funded by local taxation was now being funded by the travellers themselves. (Although, in later years, the sharp-tongued Annie would point out to Mary how the grift and hypocrisy of the various toll farmers had contrived to make big profits for a few wealthy men, at the expense of locals attempting to take their good to market.) In Kitty and Thomas's day the more wooded areas of the road are used by highwaymen who will rob travellers in secluded areas then make off across open country to avoid being identified or apprehended at the toll gates. There's a certain amount of tension about this between Thomas, who believes the highwaymen to be unscrupulous ruffians and Kitty who has a more romanticised view. They spend quite a lot of time arguing about it, despite neither of them having any personal experience with highwaymen and being forced to rely on the same second-hand accounts to give weight to their arguments.
Meanwhile Robin learned early on that a far corner of the Higham House grounds adjoins the woodland area where the highwaymen operate. He, Mary and Annie spend time watching the highwaymen operate and get to know them quite well. They'll critique the delivery of the line "your money or your life" and sometimes place bets on the success of the various stick-ups. (These two plot threads are woven together when one of the highwaymen tries to avoid detection by taking a shortcut across the Button House grounds. Robin, Mary and Annie chasing after him on foot, while Kitty and Thomas come out of the house to see what all the fuss is about. Subsequently, Thomas begins looking more kindly upon highwaymen after learning that this one had successfully robbed his killer. Meanwhile Kitty sours on them after having one callously ride his horse directly through her.)
In Fanny's lifetime, the laws change so that English roads begin to be funded by a tax on individual vehicles rather than local residents or tolls. We know from 03x07 that she's got a good head for business and despite disapproving of these newfangled motorcars, she can see there's a profit to be made. She urges George to invest in the new motorcar manufacturer, Daimler, but he doesn't act on her advice in time to turn a profit. Fanny's annoyance about this is increased tenfold when she discovers, post-mortem, that the reason that dreadful Chetwynde family from next door had been doing so well financially was that they'd overheard her advice back then and had - unlike her useless lump of a husband - actually listened to her.
Daimler was subsequently sold to the Birmingham Small Arms company and the Captain's work on weapons development introduced him to a variety of their engineers as the company diversified into everything from bicycles to machine guns to aeroplanes. He used to ride a BSA motorcycle along the road outside Button House. (One of those old Roman roads, you know? Straight shot practically to Saint Albans, so you could really open up the throttle and see what the old girl was capable of. Terrific stuff!) Obviously, this simple pleasure is taken from him after his untimely death means that both his beloved BSA Gold Star and his ability to access the road in question are permanently beyond his reach.
Pat died during a time of historically high vehicle ownership, historically low fuel prices and worrying news reports about what the lead in petrol might be doing to the health of the nation. Japan had just passed a law banning its use and there are rumours that Britain might follow suit. Obviously Pat wants Daley to grow up healthy in a world where he can enjoy the outdoors, but bleeding Nora, he's not long bought a new car! Getting a catalytic converter added to the Datsun and then having to pay for fancy petrol... well it's not going to be cheap, is it? He's not sure about the price implications for multiseater vehicles and whether the scouts would be better off buying or renting for future outings if the new laws come in. He had a post-it on the dashboard of the minibus reminding him to look into the costs. It's in his line of vision as he dies. Just one more task he never got done.
The new laws are fully in place by Julian's time, albeit breathtakingly unpopular with his constituents. BSA sold Daimler to Jaguar in 1960 and are now responsible for Julian's most treasured possession. Like the Captain, Julian enjoyed pushing his vehicle to the limits on the old Roman road outside of Button House. It's a shared commonality they might have bonded over, except Julian decides to share that his drive had been enlivened by a line you could have marked the pitch at Wembley with and a mid-journey blowie from a blonde named Antonia.
#bbc ghosts#bbc ghosts theory#bbc ghosts meta#why can I make myself late for work writing this as a tumblr post but not write it as a fic?#also apparently 'the history of English road taxation' is now going into The List#you know the one I mean?#the list of obscure knowledge where you bring up some niche fact and people ask 'How do you even know that?'#and you say 'Oh I dunno. I just read a lot'#but the real answer is always 'fandom'
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absolutely no pressure to answer this, and this ask is only born of curiosity, but what was the 'sibling' peace you mentioned during ordership week?
(once again no pressure at all to answer, i know there's an..... amount of đżđŽ (disk-horse) surrounding that whole topic haha)
I... I... Anon, if you're talking about my end note on the đ art piece, by "sibling piece" I meant a diptych and to the best of my knowledge there's no discourse surrounding those, at least in fandom spaces.
Basically in the middle of the process of creating the first (and to date the only) piece I had this fanciful notion of using what I had already done and tweaking a few details resulting in two structurally similar but contextually distinct artworks. You know, in much the same way Observatory Musings B-side and A-side are sibling pieces, just in text in form.
đI'm sorry for the english language if there has been some form of misunderstanding. It's after 1 am for me and there's a strong possibility I'm making a fool of myself, but in fairness I'm absolutely excellent at that at all hours of the day.
#fandom discourse#incest mention I guess???#erring on the side of caution here jic#I rated this mature because I link back to the art in my response#anon I love you sorry about the tags to follow as I said it's after 1am and I am rambly and apparently hungry đ#food and alcohol mention in the tags#once again I feel like I've been out here handing out cucumber sandwiches to people who ordered jĂ€germeister#I've nothing against jĂ€germeister (some of my best friends drink jĂ€germeister)#but it was the very first Event Picnic and I went with cucumber sandwiches because they're bland and appeal to most people#and while I did spice a couple up with hot english mustard they're still lets be real still just cucumber sandwiches#I won't lie this metaphor got away from me and now I'm just craving literal cucumber sandwiches and cough medicine that fucks up my meds#but this year for shipping week (assuming we have the time to hold it again) I wanna bring pork pies and whiskey#you know like ships I don't personally ship like skrelin bellgana douxari etc#not necessarily planned beforehand I want to roll the dice for them or something chance based#because I want to challenge myself this year as a writer#idk I'm open to suggestions#I'm going to bed now so have fun and be excellent to one another when I'm sleeping~
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Incomplete list of stuff that made me go apeshit reading Fellowship for the first time, medievalist edition (part II)
Part I here. Disclaimer: this is for fun!
Love that people keep stressing that they are going to the ELVES for COUNCIL. Old English names, especially among the rulers of Wessex, Northumbria, Mercia, etc, were often Elf Theme Names, one of the most famous and enduring of which is Alfred. Written the old way, ĂlfrĂŠd or Ălfred (as in Alfred the Great), means Elf-Council, aka "counseled by elves". In their hearts... everyone wants to be Alfred... possibly this is only funny 2 me.
Tom Bombadil doing a training montage in the fucking magic system of Middle Earth?? He teaches Frodo to recite a poem that will summon him, Tom Bombadil, in times of need! Frodo gets kidnapped by undead wights in a barrow (like many a good young person in an Old Norse saga before him) and dutifully recites this magic poem. Frodo learned Recite Magic Poem! TOM BOMBADIL SMASHES THRU THE WALL OF THE BARROW LIKE THE KOOL-ADE MAN AND RECITES A BIGGER, STRONGER POEM??
At this point I gave up on trying to be normal about anything. As such, I'm pausing on Tom Bombadil again.
It helped (?? not psychologically) that Tom Bombadil recited something that felt a bit familiar, when he banished the wights. It's not anything like a direct translation, if indeed it bears any purposeful resemblance to the actual recorded medieval galdor called Against a Wen. Regardless, Against a Wen is an okay?? example of what a spoken word magic poem would look like, and why it's similar to what Tom Bombadil (and later Gandalf and others) do. Left screenshot is Bombadil against a barrow-wight. Right is Against a Wen, in English translation. (a wen was possibly a skin ailment, like a mole or a cancer). Banishing to/beyond the hills and shrivelling are the apparent themes. You don't have to follow me on this one, much less agree. Frankly this is the point I went off the deep end, probably.
Galdor can also protect! This just happens to be a banishment.
Gollum got exiled (the worst thing the early medieval and apparently proto-hobbit law could do to you) but not even for murder. No one found out about the murder. He just sucked.
ALSO Gollum lied and said that his matriarch (who exiled him) gave him the Ring. This implies it was plausible she'd give out rings, implying female ring-giver (standard role of a king). This is mentioned once and never again. ok!!
One last fun fact about galdor: it is the word at the end of "nightingale" isn't that lovely? Luthien's name in-universe means nightingale. This is fine!
I spent a lot of time researching Aragorn's favorite rock. I love these books. If I recall correctly it's a real rock! but possibly. just a cool rock.
#astro lotr#this one is less fun than part 1 but i like having a sort of cheat sheet for myself!!#frankly even i am not sure what some of my mid-read posts are talking about
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Ryoko Kui Exhibition & "Delicious in Dungeon" Exhibition
Kui's published mangas, descriptions from the exhibition english pamphlet
The dragon's school is on top of the mountain
This is Ryoko Kui's debut work, and her first collected volume of works. Published in 2011, it collects seven of her stories previously published on her website and in doujinshi (self-published works), as well as two new stories. It includes a trilogy of tales which may have taken place behind the scenes of the heroes' adventures in a Role-Playing Game; and which follow the conventions of an RPG. These are "KikyĆ" (Return home), which portrays the sorrow of a hero having returned to his hometown after defeating the Demon King; "Mao" (The demon king), which tells the tale of the Demon King from his birth to his downfall; and "MaĆ jĆ mondai" (The problem of the demon king castle), which depicts the course of events surrounding the demon castle having lost its master. The story "Gendai shinwa" (Modern myths) depicts the daily lives of coexisting horsepeople (centaurs) and ape-people (homo sapiens), told from the perspectives of a centaur and homo sapien married couple, and a female homo sapien company employee and her junior male centaur. It comically depicts real-life issues such as anti-labor regulation demonstrations, and the disparity between retirement benefits and life expectancy, and as such can be considered satire of the diverse issues faced by modern society. The title story "The dragon's school is on top of the mountain" is set in a university that has the only "Faculty of Dragons" in Japan. It depicts the members of the dragon research society who seek out ways to use dragons, which apparently have no demand in modern society. They explore uses for dragons, such as for food, as pets, and as advertising media. Other highlights include Kui's sad love stories, told from unique perspectives, such as the fairytale-esque "Daikon yama no yome sagashi" (A bride for Daikon mountain) which tells the tale of a man's efforts to marry a female god in order to bring fortune to his poor village, and "Shingaku tenshi" (School-going angel) which depicts the woes of a high school girl with angel wings.
Seven Little Sons of the Dragon
This collection of short stories includes self-published works and short stories published in KADOKAWA publishing's magazine Fellows! throughout 2011 and 2012. The collected volume was published in 2012. The stories are set in different countries and time periods, featuring supernatural beings such as dragons, mermaids, gods, and werewolves. "RyĆ« no ShĆtĆâ (The dragon turret) is set in two neighboring mountains and sea kingdoms. A dragon builds a nest and lays eggs on the border at the only crossroad connecting two warring nations. The nations declare a ceasefire in fear of the dragon, but as peddlers are also unable to come and go, supplies become scarce. A Sea Kingdom soldier who was taken as a prisoner of war by the Mountain Kingdom is tasked with transporting supplies between the kingdoms, and in time he becomes close with a girl of the mountain Kingdom. But the time for the dragons to leave their nest is approaching, meaning that the war will begin again. âĆkami wa uso wo tsukanai" (Wolves don't lie) starts out with the premise of being a parenting manga by a manga artist whose son has "werewolf syndrome", then suddenly turns into a story told from the perspective of the son, who is a werewolf. The feudal drama "Kane nashi Byakuroku" (Byakuroku the penniless) tells the story of an elderly gifted artist who always leaves out one eye because otherwise his creatures come to life and pop out of the paper. He is deceived by his apprentice and left penniless, so paints both eyes into the only work remaining, counterfeit picture of a samurai. He enlists the somewhat incompetent fake samurai who has come to life, to help him raise money, and misadventures ensue. Each of these precious seven stories depict the bond between parents and children, family members, and loved ones. While humorous, they are also emotionally stirring.
Terrarium in Drawer
This is a collection of short stories that were published in the literary web magazine MATOGROSSO (EAST PRESS), as well as the cat anthology âNyansoloâ (EAST PRESS), Aoharu (Shueisha) and doujinshi. The story âRyĆ« no gekirin" (Wrath of the dragon) portrays the process of cooking dragon cuisine from preparation to seasoning with trivia about the ingredients. "KigĆ wo taberu" (Eating symbols) depicts unique ways of cooking symbols such as circles being fied whole, while squares are sliced thinly and served with sashimi soy sauce. A motif that is also common in "Delicious in Dungeon" can be found in these stories. Other chapters include âKawaiku naritai" (I want to be cute) which depicts the makeup techniques of a cat who wants to be beautiful; "ShĆtoshĆto no shujinkĆ" (A short, short story's protagonist) which is a meta perspective comedy while having many twists and turns; and "Yume no aru hanashi" (A dreamy story) set in a Santa Claus temping agency during the busy season. You can enjoy 33 diverse stories with creative perspectives and approaches, ranging from science fiction to fantasy and fairy tales. Another charming aspect of this book is the wide variety of styles it showcases, from shojo manga, to horror, gekiga, and even a simple touch of experience-based manga. The homages to famous authors and their works are also quietly amusing. In 2013, this collected volume won the 17th Manga Division Excellence Award of the Japan Media Arts Festival, organized by the Agency for Cultural Affairs, which is awarded to outstanding works of art and entertainment.
Delicious in Dungeon
This is Ryoko Kui's first long-running series. It began serialization in Harta published by KADOKAWA from February 2014 to 2023, spanning a total of 14 book volumes. The story is set in an expansive labyrinth that suddenly appeared on an island one day. The main character Laios is an adventurer whose sister Falin is devoured by a Red Dragon while exploring the labyrinth. Falin casts a final magic spell which lets Laios and the rest of his companions escape the labyrinth, but they return to rescue and resurrect Falin. However, having lost their equipment and supplies, the group decides to become "self-sufficientâ by cooking and eating the monsters they defeat along their way, as they adventure deeper into the labyrinth. Grounded in the familiarity of classic fantasy RPG elements, the series adds its own unique settings and meticulous world building. Its monster cooking scenes are illustrated alongside detailed cooking instructions, making it a never-before-seen labyrinth gourmet manga, which has become an overnight sensation. According to Kui, the motif of "cooking monsters" was born from an idea she had of wanting to depict what falls between the lines of adventures, such as meals and camping, which are typically not depicted in roleplaying games*. The manga has been adapted as a television anime series to run for two seasons from January to June 2024. A second series has also been announced. The series was produced by TRIGGER inc., who also produced and animated a commercial for the manga in 2019.
#Seven little sons of the dragon is available to buy in english btw#Hope these convince at least one person to read Kui's older works#they're all amazing#Dungeon Meshi#Ryoko Kui#Delicious in dungeon#dunmeshi#seven little sons of the dragon#terrarium in drawer#manga#The dragon's school is on top of the mountain#Kui Ryoko#long post#longpost#2 days and a broken toe later I remembered to post this
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for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while weâre at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*
Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.
And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.
And a few of them were also hot.
But Eddie wasnât gonna focus on that!
He was gonna finish todayâs assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.
âHey,â the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. âDo you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?â
Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.
The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.
Couldnât quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.
Eddie didnât like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didnât care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.
Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.
But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasnât quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.
So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.
Eddie definitely hadnât watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.
He definitely hadnât gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.
He definitely didnât have a crush on Steve.
âUh. Dude?â Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.
âYeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,â he whispered back.
âOh. Thanks.â
Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.
A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.
âWhat?â He hissed out.
âDo you understand this?â
âYes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.â
Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.
âI donât think thatâs it,â Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like âIâm just stupidâ but Eddie couldnât be 100% sure.
âA lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.â Eddie sighed. âYou could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.â
âYeah, probably.â
Eddieâs brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steveâs red face.
Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.
âYou can borrow mine if you want,â Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. âI donât really need them until the final.â
âOh!â Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadnât been basically asking for help only a moment ago. âYou donât have to do that. I mean, it wouldnât do much good for me anyway.â
âWhat do you mean?â Steve had Eddieâs full attention now.
âIâm. I-â Steve sighed. âIâm dyslexic, man. Readingâs hard for me.â
Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.
âOh.â Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. âYeah, my handwriting is shit so itâd probably be useless to you. Shit, itâs almost useless to me.â
Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.
âDonât you have accommodations?â Eddie asked him.
âNah, my dad doesnât believe itâs a problem.â Steve rolled his eyes. âSaid I just need to focus more and itâll âwork itself out.ââ
âHe sounds like heâs a lot of fun at parties.â
Steve snorted again. âYeah, a blast.â
âSo you arenât a natural at French?â
Steve shook his head. âIâm barely a natural at English.â
âI could help you?â Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.
âHelp me? Youâd help me?â Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.
Eddie kinda liked that.
âI mean, yeah. If youâre actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.â
Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.
âI work well with a reward system,â he smirked. âIf youâre willing.â
Eddieâs eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that heâd just been flirted with.
By Steve Harrington.
âOh, I can definitely work with that.â
Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.
âLet me know when I need to show up, Eds.â
Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.
Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required
When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.
Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steveâs contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.
Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.
Studying naked is my favorite thing đ
Steveâs knee nudged against his in response.
Maybe Eddie wouldnât take that trip to advising after all.
And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didnât really like sports.
He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.
Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#ficlet#the team names are ridiculous on purpose#and I put this in college instead of high school because I felt like it#if anyone wants to continue please do#Iâm so sleepy and canât possibly
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Heyy
Could you write Eddie x introvert readerđ
Like a little story and then some smut maybeđ
Not So Shy
Eddie Munson X Shy!Girlfriend
Word Count : 2.4k
Warnings : not proofread, SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex, kinky? daddy kink, readers called good girl and bunny, choking, eddies a soft dom, sub reader, itâs kinda fluffy lmao?
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
âHey baby!â Eddie was leaning against his van as you walked over, almost shouting the endearment. âHey,â you smiled, making your way to him.
His hands instantly sound your waist, leaning down to peck your lips. âHow was English?â With a flushed face you replied, âIt was good yeah, how was Chem?â
Eddie pulled a face. âEdâs you said youâd go!â You scolded.
âI know I know, but I had a deal to do. Iâm sorry. I promise Iâll go Monday okay?â
âYou better.â He squeezed your hips, smirking as he leaned down, âLike when you get all assertive with me baby.â Your face burned, pushing away from the grinning boy.
However he just pulled you back, so you stood chest to chest. âEddie,â You whined, âPeople are looking.â
âLet em look baby.â With a groan you dropped your face into his chest making him chuckle.
âIâm sorry Iâm sorry. Letâs go okay?â He suggested. âOkay.â The boy opened the door for you, letting you climb into the van. âLove those jeans baby,â he said as you sat.
âStop looking a my ass!â
âAs your boyfriend itâs kinda my job too.â
âShush!â
The boy cackled as he closed the door and walked to his own side. âSo you coming back to mine?â he asked.
âSure.â
âGreat!â He slid a hand onto your thing, giving it a squeeze and you were on your way.
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
You donât really know how you and Eddie got close, you just kinda did. Sat in History class together, you just kinda went hand in hand.
You were quiet, Eddie was loud. You were getting straight As, Eddie was barely scraping a D-. Eddie was full of love and light ⊠you ⊠not so much.
âHere we are gorgeous,â Eddie smiled, pulling up to the trailer. The trailer, somewhere you became so fond of so quickly, even more so when Wayne was around.
Speaking of where was he? âWhereâs Wayne?â You asked.
âPicked up another shift. So youâll have to deal with my ugly mug.â
âShush, youâre not ugly.â
âNo?â
âNo .. prettiest boy Iâve ever seen,â you mumbled. âWhat was that?â You knew full well he heard you, but was teasing just cause. âPrettiest boy Iâve ever seen,â You said slightly louder this time.
âAnd youâre the most beautiful girl in the world baby.â Your face flushed. âCome on, letâs get you in, before you die of embarrassment.â
With a huff you hopped out of the van, but couldnât hide your smile as Eddie held his hand out to you. As he always did, linking your fingers together, eventhough you were only going a short distance.
Once you were inside you slid off your shoes, hanging your jacket and bag on a hook, Eddie doing the same in a smooth rhythm.
âWant a drink? Wayne made lemonade.â
âYes please.â
âOkay you go and get comfy baby,â he kissed your head walking to the kitchen.
With a sigh you dropped down onto to the sofa, letting your eyes fall closed. Listening to Eddies movements, the glasses gave out of the cupboard, sliding across the side.
The fridge door opened with a slight creak, and the sound of lemonade pouring filled your ears. Once the door of the fridge closed, heavy footsteps padded towards you.
âLong day Baby?â Eddie asked, the glasses were placed with a clink onto to coffee table. Your feet were lifted and then placed on the boys jean clad legs.
âMhm, just had a lot of homework is all. Got to bed late.â
âYou should take a nap.â
âNo, wanna spend time with you.â You pushed yourself up on your elbows, opening your eyes to look at the boy.
âWell we can relax together, wanna watch a movie? Red left one here, said youâd probably like it.â
âOh yeah? Whatâs it called?â
âThe Breakfast Club.â
âOh Robs told me about that, apparently itâs real good,â you told him.
âWell we better trust them then.â He gently lift your feet so he could get up, placing the tape into the player.
Twisting your body so you could sit together, Eddie smiled, placing his self besides you and held you close. Arms falling around you. âHello,â he smiled as looked down at you.
âHi,â you said looking up at him.
âSo fucking cute,â he laughed, kissing your head. Your face flushed. âOne of these days youâll stop blushing when I compliment you.â
âThink itâll take a while.â
âWell weâve been dating for almost 4 months now, and you still go as red as a beet baby.â
âI canât help it,â you held your rosy cheeks in your hands.
Eddie squeezed you, âDidnât mean itâs bad thing, itâs cute. I just wish youâd believe my words more. Just think youâre the best thing.â
âSince sliced bread?â you joked.
âOh since the start of the universe.â His words were true and full of adoration for you.
âYouâre a sweet talker Eddie Munson.â
âOnly for you baby.â
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Lay in Eddies arms as the movie played you felt his hands fiddling with your jumper, sliding under it slightly. Coming to rest on your bare tummy.
The feeling made you burn, his hands on your bare skin, your legs rubbed together at the slight twitch between them.
âJust watch the movie,â Eddie whispered in a soft voice, his hands sliding up. Coming to a halt when his fingers met the bottom of your bra. âIs this okay?â He asked.
You hummed, nodding your head. âWords baby.â He almost pulled his hands away when you couldnât get them out, choking out a broken, âYes, Y-yeah.â
His hands resumed their mission. Pulling down the cups, you sighed as your nipples brushed against the knitted wool of your jumper.
Eddies rough hands cupped them, squeezing ever so slightly to make you hiss. His lips brushed against your neck, leaving soft kisses, from the base up to your ear.
His thumb and index finger began to pinch at your nipples, teasing them as he suckled onto that sweet spot below your ear. With a sigh your head fell back against his shoulder, legs squeezing together.
âEds,â you whined.
âWhat baby?â he said in a mocking tone.
âFeels so good.â
âYeah?â He asked, pulling at your nipples giving them a rough squeeze. âMhm feels real good.â
âShall we take this off?â he said, motioning to your jumper and bra. âYeah.â He shifted in front of you then, lifting your arms up, pulling the jumper and throwing it somewhere.
You didnât know where. You honestly couldnât care less. Your bra followed moments later. Eddies mouth soon latched onto your tits, kissing them and then taking a nipple into his mouth.
Suckling on it and biting down. âFuck ah,â you said, hands pulling on his curls. âFucking love these pretty tits.â
Eddie sat back on his knees taking you in, making you feel shy at your half bare form. Your hands came up to cover yourself, but Eddie pulled them away, linking your fingers.
Pushing you to lie down on the couch Eddie lay between your legs, meeting you in a soft kiss. âNever need to hide from me. Youâre so fucking beautiful,â he spoke softly.
The next time he met your mouth, it was full of tongue and lust. Making you whine as he squeezed your boobs again. âEddie please.â
âPlease what baby?â
âDo more.â
âYeah? Want me to suck on that pretty pussy?â You hummed nodding wildly, hips pushing up to reach his hardening crotch.
âI got you baby, Eddies got you.â
His hands went down to your jeans, undoing the buttons and sliding them down. Kissing your legs as he did so. Socks went with them. You lay there in your panties.
âThese are cute baby,â he pulled at the baby blue material, letting them snap back against your hip. âEds not fair!â You pouted, tugging at his shirt.
âOh I guess not.â The boy lifted his shirt up and over his head, next his jeans went along with the socks on his own feet.
âThis better?â he asked. You took the sight of him in. Lust filled eyes, wild hair, tattoos decorating his skin, and underwear getting tighter by the second. âYeah.â
He kissed his way down your body, making sure to bite on each nipple as he went. Soon he was at your clothed core. Kissing your thighs, leaving love bites there, you squealed at the feeling.
Trying to close your legs, he held them open, finally dropping kissing onto the blue lace. You let out a soft sigh, hands going back to his hair. âPlease donât tease.â
He laughed, then slide the pants down your legs, making a show of licking where your core would rest. âGod fucking delicious.â
âBaby please.â
With a grin he dropped his mouth to you, letting his tongue lick up you. The feeling was incredible, his tongue was like nothing else. Soon he latched onto your clit.
Sucking away, making you let out soft moans. His tongue worked against it too, flicking every once in a while, he knew it drove you mad.
âFuck baby, youâre so wet for me. Think I can already slide my fingers in.â
âYes!â You almost screamed. âYes please.â
âWell how can I say no to you?â
The feeling of two of his thick fingers stretching you was incredible. Your mouth dropped open as he curled them inside you, letting them pump in and out.
âYouâre gonna cum on my fingers and in my mouth and then Iâll give you what you really want okay?â With the way he moved his fingers you couldnât answer, too lost in pleasure.
So he stopped. âI said okay?â
âOkay, yes.â
âGood girl.â You felt your pussy clench around his fingers at that. âOh?â he smirked.
âYou wanna be my good girl?â he asked, once again your pussy throbbed.
Leaning down to your ear he whispered, âAre you gonna be daddyâs good girl and cum around his fingers?â You could have came right then and there.
âYes.â
âYes who?â
âYes daddy.â
He smirked again, pecking your mouth, you could taste yourself on his lips. He was back down on your clit, fingers curling inside you, until they hit you where they needed to.
Letting out a loud moan, you could feel Eddies grin. âCome on baby, cum for me. Cum for daddy.â
âFuck!â You almost shouted. Hands gripping his hair as he kept playing with your clit and curling those thick digits, so deep you could feel his rings against your hole.
âFuck daddy- I- I âŠâ
âI know baby I can feel you, cum for daddy. Cum for me.â You did just that. With a loud moan, you hips bucked, shaking as you came.
âThatâs it, thatâs a good girl,â Eddie said, as he moved his mouth away, fingers still moving as he watched your orgasm. âFuck baby youâre so sexy.
Your chest rose and fell heavily, body full of bliss, as you sighed. Grabbing for his face, you pulled him to kissed you.
Tasting yourself on his tongue made you both moan. âIâll give you what you want baby.â The boy tugged his boxers down, going to position himself to go inside.
âNo,â you stopped him, he pulled back wide eyed. âDo you ⊠do you wanna stop? Shit sorry baby, we can stop right now.â
âNo! I donât wanna stop, I just wanna try something different.â
âOkay?â Softly pushing Eddie up, you pulled his guitar pick necklace off of him, pulling it over your own head. Making the boy sit up, you climbed onto his lap.
âOh?â he smirked. âAnd what are you doing now baby?â
âWanna ⊠wanna bounce on your cock,â you said shyly, but forced yourself to meet his eyes.
âYou go ahead bunny, bounce on daddyâs cock,â he said, smacking your ass lightly.
Slowly you positioned his cock at your entrance, letting yourself slide down.
You hissed at the feeling of the stretch it was so good. Eddie was packing six, almost seven inches and he was thick. Nice and thick, making your walls tight around him.
âGod that pussys good. Come on baby, bounce.â
So you did. Holding onto his shoulders you let your hips rise and fall onto his. Letting out heavy breaths of pleasure. âFuck bunny,â Eddies head fell back.
âGod daddy your dicks so good.â
âYeah? Best dick youâll ever get.â
âOnly dick I want.â He looked at you then, took one of his big hands and squeezed it around your neck.
You paused in your bounce, letting out a choked moan. âOnly dick youâre ever gonna have, cause your mine. Do you understand?â You nodded, unable to speak under his tight grip.
He simply said, âBounce.â So you did. Slamming your hips, you moved erratically like youâd die without it - which you probably would.
He watched as his necklace bounced between your tits, it was a mouth watering sight.
Eddies ring covered hand squeezed every now and again, his other spanking you harder and harder as he got closer.
Your legs burned and you began to slow. âIs my bunny tired, you need daddy to do the work now?â He teased. With a nod of your head, Eddie let go of your throat.
Hands coming to rest on your waist, his feet lifted from the floor and onto the edge of the couch. Making him even deeper, you could feel him in your throat.
âI got you baby.â He thrusted deep into you making you scream in pleasure, slamming again and again. Over and over. âFuck yes, such a good pussy, milk my fucking cock. Milk daddyâs dick.â
âYes yes yes!â You screamed as you came for the second time. Squeezing him, Eddie let out his own grunt, pounding you. His cock getting deeper and deeper. âFuck yes yes yes!â he chanted as you felt his cum squirt into you.
âUh fuck yes!â you moaned, nails digging into his shoulder and your body shook, head falling to his neck. âYes take it baby!â With a final thrust his hips fell down.
Heaving breathing was all that was heard.
âGod damn, so how to make you not shy is to fuck you dumb?â Eddie laughed. Face sweaty. âClearly so.â He swatted your ass again.
âCome on baby we better get cleaned up.â
âCan I stay the night?â
âOf course. Weâll call your parents after we shower okay?â
With a nod, Eddie took his cue, pulling out of you and stood up, your legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck.
One hand under your bare ass and one around your back Eddie spoke, âYou know they say good things come in threes, reckon I could get another one out of you?â
You smirked, pecking his mouth. âOnly one way to find out ⊠daddy.â
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Sooooo ⊠got a bit carried away đ
Hope you enjoyed đ
#stranger things#eddie munson#joe quinn#eddie munson imagine#stranger things imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x yn#eddie munson fluff#eddie stranger things#joe quinn imagine#eddie munson smut#eddie x y/n#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#eddie x reader#dom!eddie munson#joseph quinn imagine#joesph quinn imagine#jospeh quinn#joesph quinn#joseph quinn#strsnger things#strangerthings#loulou lemons#smut#oneshot#imagine
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Sleeping with the enemy | One-Shot
Summary: your father, Gwayne Hightower, had always told you to beware of Davos Blackwood, son of one of your grandfather's most ardent haters. But when you meet him at a party years after graduating college, you can't help but think he's not so bad after all.
Rating: Explicit [18+], MDNI.
Pairing: modern!Davos Blackwood x Hightower!Reader (appearance isnât specified, everyone is 18+ in this)
TW: smut with a tiny bit of plot, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, praising kink, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, afab reader, not proofread.
Words count: 4393
Authorâs note: Hi, everyone! This is my first time posting here, and I have to admit I'm a bit intimidated ahaha like a lot of people, I fell in love with Davos Blackwood's in episode three and ABSOLUTELY had to write this idea that's been on my mind for a while now.
I should probably mention that English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse my grammar mistakes!
Davos Blackwood had a bad reputation in your neighborhood, that much was true.
The rumors about him had started when you were still in college, something about red liquid smeared on the mirror in the boys' bathroom. A silly prank involving fake blood and strange theatrics to scare off a younger classmate that had perhaps gone too far. It was your own cousin Aemond who had found the fake crime scene just after the culprit had left, still licking his red-stained fingers. It caused quite a stir at the time, and he hadn't been seen on campus for at least two weeks. It may have been fake blood or just a tasteless joke, it was still inevitable that action would have to be taken.
It was Aeron Bracken in particular who had helped make these bizarre stories popular. He told anyone who would listen that Davos Blackwood was a deranged, violent madman. It was no secret that the two young men didn't get along. But no one expected things to get as bad as they did. There had been rumors in the hallways and whispers in the cafeteria, but that wasn't all. His car had been vandalized and marked with insults on several occasions. Even Gwayne Hightower, your father, had warned you.
A real witch hunt.
As far as you knew, however, the main target had remained unaffected by the situation, even toying with those who provoked him. In a way, he almost seemed to enjoy the wild, mysterious aura that all this fuss gave him.
You, for one, had never really believed it. After all, he didn't look like a bad guy, with his big, green eyes and permanently disheveled black hair. He seemed a little strange to you, a little off, but not enough to be considered a clear danger. But your opinion didn't matter much.
Nothing had ever destined the two of you to spend time together. His parents' company only did business with Rhaenyra's, refusing any ties and especially any agreements with the Hightowers. His father seemed to harbor a fierce hatred and boundless distrust of your family, apparently fearing that Otto's overweening ambition would lead him to overturn the order of succession established by Viserys himself and install his own grandson as sole ruler of the company.
And in your world, your parents had a bit more say in who you dated than they did for other people. You couldn't just go out with a guy because he seemed interesting, especially if he was the son of one of your grandfather's most ardent haters.
So you'd never spoken to each other in college, let alone at the lavish charity galas your family hosted.
Never, until that day.
"You like Iron Maiden?" a hoarse, unfamiliar voice said from behind you as you wrung the water out of your hair, "or is that your boyfriend's shirt?". The sun was high in the sky and you could feel the heat of its rays burning your exposed neck. The clear waters of the Targaryen family pool sparkled, and the garden echoed with the bursts of voices of those Aegon had invited to what should have been a casual gathering of the younger generation with ties to the Targaryen business.
You didn't think he'd invite Davos Blackwood, though.
"It's mine," you replied, giving the young man a mischievous smile, your fingers playing absentmindedly with the string that held the bottom of your swimsuit to your hip, "and yeah, it's one of my favorite bands actually." He seemed to take a moment to assess the situation, his eyes roaming up and down your body, an unreadable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Never pegged you as a little rebel," he crossed his arms over his chest before continuing, "more of a model daughter." You knew he was toying with you, trying to tease you, but you were more than happy to play along.
Besides, you understood where the thought came from, you who were usually more used to short skirts and high heels than band shirts.
Mentally, you thanked Aegon for thinking of him. "Be careful, Blackwood," your voice sounded like a playful threat, "you might be surprised."
You were about to leave to return to the deck chairs, but it seemed that Davos wasn't quite finished with the conversation. "Wait," he ordered, taking your wrist between his broad fingers. Mechanically, you glanced around to make sure no one was watching. After all, the last thing you wanted was for someone to spy on your conversation with someone who still belonged to your grandfather's enemy side. "What is it?" it was your turn to cross your arms over your chest, your eyebrows furrowing as you waited for some kind of justification from him. It was clear he had something on his mind, but you just couldn't figure out what. "Do you want to come over to my place sometime?" he finally said, and you felt your breath catch somewhere between your throat and your lungs. "Why?" the question crossed your lips before you could even think about it.
You didn't know each other, had never spoken before, not to mention the fact that your families didn't approve of each other. You were tempted to agree, of course, because whether you liked it or not, you felt this kind of almost magnetic attraction pulling you together.
You'd have liked to think it was fate, but you knew it was just your love of danger and the forbidden.
His voice pulled you out of your thoughts again. "You seem like a pretty nice girl, and we obviously have the same taste in music," he replied, finally loosening his grip on your wrist, "we could watch a movie, get to know each other, something like that." The offer was tempting, the prospect of spending a little more time with him appealing, but even though you desperately wanted to say yes, you knew you couldn't. You had to be reasonable and listen to that little voice in your head that told you it all sounded like a terrible idea. But he seemed to sense your reluctance because he quickly added, "Don't worry, no one will know."
***
Davosâ room wasn't exactly what you'd call tidy. You noticed a half-full ashtray on the windowsill and a few empty cans on his desk. It was the opposite of your own bedroom, neatly decorated and perfectly organized. Your wardrobe drawers were a bit of an exception, but that didn't really matter.
Even so, you couldn't help but find it a little charming. The smell of his cologne in the air, the half-unraveled sheets, this was unmistakably him. It tasted risky and illicit, and it stirred something unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. A reaction that no boy had ever managed to provoke in you.
"There's no denying it, vampires really are the best supernatural creatures," you muttered, sinking your teeth into the last slice of the half-cold pizza you'd ordered earlier. You were especially comfortable sitting cross-legged on his bed as the rain pounded against the windows and the end of the movie drew near on his computer screen. His parents were out of town for the week, on a business trip or something, providing you with an opportunity to finally meet away from prying eyes. He seemed quite comfortable too, with his leg pressed against yours and his hand wrapped around his soda cup, which he sipped absentmindedly. "I have to say, I never thought you'd be into movies like this," he told you after a few long seconds, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "given your looks, I thought you'd be more into romantic comedies or something." You held back an annoyed sigh.
"Like I said..." you finally replied, "you should beware of appearances."
They can be misleading sometimes, you kept to yourself.
It was true that you were usually a sweet, sensible girl, the ideal daughter who always smiled and never caused trouble. The pride and joy of your parents. But lately you had grown tired. Tired of following orders, of doing everything you were told without ever being able to listen to your heart. You were eager to get rid of this constant fear of disappointing your loved ones if you didn't live up to their expectations, and it seemed that life had given you the perfect opportunity to free yourself from all that.Â
"Is there something I should know?" the young manâs hand came to rest on the top of your thigh, his thumb delicately stroking the soft skin there, "some dark secret of yours, princess?". His almost mocking tone and the annoying nickname were enough to bring back that scorching heat in the pit of your stomach. The way he looked at you, at your breasts, made you think that he was affected by this sudden closeness, too. His gaze burned, almost as much as his fingers, which were now creeping dangerously up the hem of your shorts. And when you felt them graze the lace of your underwear in the hollow where your leg and hip met, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you'd bitten off more than you could chew.
But even though you were entering unfamiliar territory, something foreign to you, you refused to lose control and let him take what he wanted without saying a word. This wasn't your style. You always had a witty comeback ready to go. And you were going to show him.
Slowly, you moved forward a few inches on the bed to sit astride his very inviting lap, never taking your eyes off his lips. Your hands found his shoulders, and you could feel the hardness of his desire beneath your thighs. Gods, the sensation was divine. This was your doing. You and no one elseâs. The sudden surge of power and dominance made your head spin. "Be very careful what you do now," his fingers settled on your hips to bring your chests a little closer together, his grip tight and bruising. "Or what?" you replied in an almost insolent, even provocative tone.
"Or we could end up doing something you might regret."
This was all a very bad idea, that much was true. Davos Blackwood was a very bad idea. But you didn't want to dwell on what the future might hold, let alone the potential consequences of your actions. All you knew was that you wanted more. More of his hands on your skin, more of his lips on yours, and more of him. Â
And it seemed that he, too, was eager to take it further.
His fingers made their way up from your waist to your chest, slipping under your tank top to brush his thumbs over the two little hardened buds. The ghost of a touch, really, but it was enough to make you moan. Your mouths were now just a few inches apart, your breaths mingling, but you didn't want to kiss him yet, choosing to prolong this delicious, exhilarating tension for a few minutes longer.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. "Do you feel it?". He backed up his words with action, rolling his hips and planting a kiss right at the corner of your jaw. "You know what this is?" he added, rolling one of your nipples between his index finger and thumb, "what happens to a man when a woman behaves the way you do?". Of course I know, you wanted to say but the words stuck in your throat and only a moan managed to break through the barrier of your lips. You weren't stupid, you were perfectly aware of what happened in this kind of situation. But you'd never seen it, let alone touched it, and the theory was very different from the actual reality.
"Shut up," you replied at last, before planting a kiss on his lips. You didn't mean it, though. To be honest, you wished he would talk to you like that all night long, sending a wave of heat straight to your core with words alone. His tongue found yours, silencing your thoughts, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from losing your footing. "Such a foul mouth," he said, smiling against your lips as he gave you time to breathe, "we'll see if you're still so talkative once I'm done with you."
The young man's hands found the bottom of your tank top and pulled it over your head, and soon it was your shorts that suffered the same fate, leaving you in nothing but your black lace panties. You suddenly felt exposed, lying there under that hungry gaze that regarded you like a precious gift, a prized possession. You waited eagerly for his next move.
Where was the bold young woman who had taken the lead just a few minutes earlier, the one so determined not to lose control? It seemed like she'd already vanished, replaced by some shy creature beneath his crude words and inappropriate touch.
"What are you going to do to me?" you tilted your head to the side to give him better access to the skin of your neck, which he was kissing with increasing fervor. "Nothing you won't like," he replied as he stood up to get rid of his t-shirt, which joined the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. Your eyes couldn't help but wander over his toned torso dotted with dark hairs, your hands itching to touch him.
Soon enough, his lips found your jaw, then your neck, then the top of your chest, and you immediately shivered. The weight of his body lying on yours was delightful, comforting. "Please..." you whimpered as your hands settled on his shoulders, urging him to give you what you were so desperate for. You felt his fingers slide slowly against the skin of your belly, then lower, much lower, to play with the lace of your underwear, and your back arched almost reflexively. You wanted more, you needed more, and you were getting tired of waiting.
"Be patient, princess," he said, nibbling on the soft skin of your breast, his mouth soon wrapping around your hardened nipple. A grunt escaped you, and you weren't quite sure if it was from your frustration or the dominant tone he had just used. His hand slipped under the fabric of your panties to tease the top of your slit before brushing over your already soaked folds. It was annoying, really, the effect he was having on you with such a light touch. But it was heavenly, and you had decided to ignore the voice of reason for the night.
His index finger found the little pearl nestled at the apex of your center, and the contact felt like a delicious electric shock. You threw your head back, eyes closing, lips parting in a silent cry as he drew little circles around your most sensitive area. "Have you ever had anyone here?" he asked after a few seconds. When you didn't answer, he added: "I asked you a question, and I want you to answer me." There it was again, his commanding, almost controlling tone.
"N... no," you stammered as you opened your eyes again to meet his, "nobody." You suddenly felt like prey under his hungry gaze that devoured your trembling body. "Perfect," you heard, just before his fingers found your entrance, which was already clenching around nothing, "and here?".
The idea of being the first to enter you seemed to obsess him.
You nodded, this time from left to right, signifying that no, you had saved your virginity for the right man, the one who would know how to make you tremble under his ministrations, the one who would know how to make you beg for more, always more.
"Perfect," he repeated again, as the first knuckle of his index finger sank agonizingly slowly into you, teasing your inner walls. It was barely there, nothing really, and yet you already felt incredibly full. "You're so tight," he growled against the skin of your throat, "so warm too, you're going to feel amazing around me." He added a second knuckle and soon his finger was completely buried inside you. It felt good, and it felt right, but it didn't feel like enough. You wiggled your hips and it seemed as if Davos had understood your silent request immediately. "I need you to take another," he straightened on his left elbow to look at you with lust-blown pupils, "do you think you can do that for me?". Once again, you nodded your head in agreement, but this time it didn't seem to be enough for him. "Use your words, princess." You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "I... I can take more," you murmured right against his lips as you looked down between your thighs.
"Good girl," he said, his voice low and rough as you felt his middle finger pressing into you. He curled them both, brushing that spongy spot against your inner wall, and you threw your head back.
You dug your nails into his pale skin to stay anchored in the present as his thumb found your clit. But you knew you wouldn't last long. You could already feel tingles of pleasure buzzing through your body, and in the pit of your belly, the fires of delight burned a little more fiercely. You wanted to warn him, to tell him you were close, but he was quicker than you: "Come for me."
He didn't need to tell you a second time.
Soon, the wave of your orgasm washed over you.
It made your whole body shake with spasms, your climax exploding like fireworks behind your eyelids. Your lips crashed against his neck to stifle your final moan as your back arched under the intense sensation. The young man was merciful enough to give you a few seconds to recover before withdrawing his fingers, leaving you empty and frustrated. "Look at the mess you made," you heard him groan, "clean it up." His index and middle fingers brushed across your lips, which parted eagerly to welcome them into your warm mouth.
You timidly wrapped your tongue around them under his predatory gaze. The mere thought that you could taste yourself on your taste buds set your body on fire once again. It was indecent, inappropriate, and you probably should have been ashamed to be used like this, but you couldn't care less.
Maybe it was his fault, or maybe you'd just found each other despite everything that kept you apart.
His fingers left your mouth to wrap around your neck. But as he lay back on the mattress and guided you towards his lips, you resisted. Once again, you straddled his hips, only this time completely naked. He looked at you for a few seconds, a little confused, until you reached under the elastic of his underwear to slide it down his legs. This seemed to make him realize the extent of your intentions. His hard member jumped free and caught your eye. Standing proud with a mass of dark curls adorning its base, the sight alone made you salivate. "Let me thank you," you said, as your fingers gently traced its length. "I want to make you feel good too." You slowly moved between his legs to kiss his inner thighs.
You reached out tentatively and wrapped your fingers around his manhood. It felt heavy in your hand, massive and your index finger couldn't quite touch your thumb because it was so wide. You brought your lips to his crotch and, watching Davos from beneath your long lashes, planted a quick kiss on the head where it was already weeping for you. Your tongue traced a vein on the underside without ever breaking eye contact. He threw his head back, his lips parted to let out a muffled curse.
The rush of power you felt when you saw him so vulnerable under your touch was sinfully delicious.
You tilted your head to the side to plant a series of kisses all along his hardened manhood, your big innocent eyes still locked with his. There was a pause, a few tense seconds, before finally, finally, you moved your head forward to take him fully into your mouth. His big hand found refuge at the back of your skull, and you let him guide you completely.
The grip on your hair tightened, almost to the point of pain. "Breathe, through your nose," the young man ordered, but his voice was more urgent than before, his breathing becoming ragged from the growing pleasure. "You can do better than that." The fingers buried in your locks soon forced you to swallow him whole, your nose pressed against his pelvis, the unruly hair tickling your face. You could feel yourself drooling around him, the action messy. "Such a filthy girl," he said as his thumb came to caress the corner of your mouth, right where his member disappeared between your lips, "sucking my cock like a real whore." You let out an audible moan around his length in response to the foulness of his words.
But instead of disgusting you, it only served to encourage you.
You hollowed out your cheeks, still following the rhythm of his hand, which had resumed its place at the back of your head. He was big, and he filled your mouth in a way you hadn't experienced before, but you wanted to prove to him that you could satisfy him, that you could make him proud. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, which he hastily wiped away with the tip of his free thumb. "Shh... you're doing so well," he praised you in a reassuring tone. You knew he was close to reaching his climax. His breathing had become labored, his movements erratic, and it was evident that you were causing him to lose his balance. But it seemed he didn't want to end it that quickly.
"Wait, not yet," he straightened into a sitting position, placing his hand on your cheek to force you back a few inches, "I'd hate to waste it." The implication made your cheeks flush, but you couldn't help but look forward to what would come next.
His hands came to rest on your waist, encouraging you to sit on his hips again, this time making his still impossibly hard manhood brush against your soaked cunt. The contact alone was enough to elicit a moan from you. His own fingers wrapped around his member as he guided it towards your narrow entrance.
And after what felt like an eternity, he finally thrust into you.
He stretched you to perfection, the foreign sensation a mixture of delicious pain and aching pleasure. "Fuck princess, you're tight," your head found refuge in the hollow of his neck, but you could hear that annoying smirk in his voice, "I'm going to ruin you." And oh how you couldn't wait for him to make good on his threats. "Move," you pleaded against the skin of his throat as you hesitantly moved your hips up and down to get that delicious friction you craved. He seemed hell-bent on teaching you self-restraint, even though you desperately wanted to see him lose control. He grabbed your waist in a firm grip, keeping you pressed against his hips and making you whine. "Did I say you could move?" he asked, kissing the side of your jaw. Once again that night, you'd annoyed him by not answering, and he repeated, "did I say you could move?". Â
It seems he was also trying to make you learn obedience, in addition to patience.
You didn't even have a chance to react before the young man used his grip on your waist to pull back almost completely, revealing his member glistening with your sticky juices before thrusting himself into you once more. His head was rubbing against that most delicious spot inside you, making your legs tremble with pure bliss. "Please, I..." You didn't even know what you were asking for as he moved back and forth continuously. You thought he'd ask you to speak again, but he was too caught up in pleasure and close to his release to be bothered by your pleas.
But even if he'd lost his rhythm, it was clear he was still determined to satisfy you. His thumb was back on your little pearl, tracing small circles around it, while inside you his length relentlessly pounded against your inner wall. You could feel yourself clenching around him, and the heat between your thighs was back with a fiercer intensity than ever. âIâm going to fill you up,â his teeth nibbled at the soft skin of your neck, marking it possessively, âIâm going to fill you up and youâre going to take everything Iâm going to give you, feel me for days.â The moans that came out of your mouth were now completely incoherent, a confused jumble of yes and please.
Your climax hit hard and fastâstronger than the one Davos had offered you earlier that night. You dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving red half-moons as evidence of your forbidden actions. Your back arched off the mattress, pressing his body against yours as reality slipped through your fingers and a myriad of stars danced behind your eyelids. He followed you just a few seconds later, pouring into you with white ropes.
He stayed inside you for a few more moments, his length softening. But neither of you felt like moving, not when you were so comfortable, lying against each other, your limbs tangled. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead that made your heart clench. You still refused to think about the future and the problems that might arise from such a strong connection between the two of you. All that mattered for the moment was his skin against yours and your fingers in his hair.
"We should do that again," you murmured as you kissed his cheeks, his chin, his nose, "someday."
He smiled.
"We will," he said with confidence, "I'll make sure of that, princess."
The nickname made your stomach flutter with excitement.
#davos blackwood#davos blackwood x reader#benjicot blackwood#benjicot blackwood x reader#hotd x reader#davos blackwood x you#benjicot blackwood x you#davos blackwood fanfic#benjicot blackwood fanfic#hotd fanfic
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HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16
â 02. THE MEDDLING
PREV. PART | NEXT PART â [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]
summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as youâd like! some cursing and for the sake of the smau imola was not canceled. note: thank you sm for the love you showed the first part! once again if you see some mistakes please know that english is not my first language and i noticed them once everything was finished. if you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know! âĄ
INSTAGRAM STORIES
MAY 14, 2023.
TWITTER
INSTAGRAM POST
đ ROMA, ITALY
Liked by yourusername, lilymhe and 432,503 others
alex_albon Donât believe anything they say, I won âłïž
view all 3,799 comments
lilymhe iâm not gonna say anything. đ€
user35 so it is true. they were with charles and Y/N user36 We donât know that user37 someone working there confirmed it
charles_leclerc mate you fell like three times
user38 WE GOT THE CONFIRMATION user39 omg this makes it real user40 BUT WAS Y/N ACTUALLY THERE
user41 not his entire comment section filled with charles and Y/N fans đđđ
user42 PARENTS
yourusername shut up you know i won
user43 OH MY GOD OH MY GODDDD user44 i cant believe it iâm having a crisis over this user45 context pls user46 everyoneâs saying they were in a double date and apparently this is the confirmation.
pierregasly thanks for (not) inviting me!!!
đ ROMA, ITALY
Liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 756,223 others
yourusername i won. i have witnesses.
view all 2,498 comments
alex_albon keep saying that đ„±
yourusername SHUT UP
user47 not a single pic of charles and her together but we know they were together
user48 feeding us crumbs
user49 she looks so pretty
zendaya tom keeps saying we need to play golf when youâre back in london.
yourusername tell him iâm gonna kick his ass
landonorris you should play with people that actually knows how to play: ME
lilymhe SORRY? yourusername dw lils, i have your back
user50 i love how sheâs befriending everyone
user51 thanks to alex user52 and your point is? user51 sheâs using him for his fame user53 LOOOOOOL
pierregasly thanks for (not) inviting me!!!
user54 whatâs more hilarious to me than this whole âdouble dateâ discourse are pierre comments on both alex and Y/N posts because they did not invite him.
Y/N & ALEXâS iMESSAGE
THURSDAY MAY 18, 2023 â PRESS CONFERENCE
charles is sitting next to lando and max, pierre next to him as alex stands in front of them. heâs aware theyâre talking about what theyâre expecting from this weekend, but he canât seem to focus on what they are actually saying, only picking up pieces of the conversation. heâs too focused on his phone, the message thread he has with Y/N staring back at him. the last text he has from her is just a simple âcoolâ after he was trying to play it cool.
âwhat you doing, charlie?â max asks, playfully poking him in the ribs. he immediately locks his phone, raising his head only to find that everyone is looking at him already.
âi know what heâs doing.â lando wiggles his eyebrows and charles wonders if he really needs his fingers to race. âyou screwed up.â
charles knows he screwed up, and definitely doesnât need lando reminding him the awful mistake he made for just trying not to sound too intense because, of course, heâs made that mistake in the past. and every girl heâs had something with always said the same: âyouâre too much, charlesâ, âyouâre taking things too fast, we should take a break.â so ever since the last girl he dated, once again, said the same thing, charles promised himself he would not be that guy.
âhey,â alex has this look of pity in his eyes that he doesnât like, not even one bit. âmaybe we could do something to help you.â
âi donât need your help.â charlesâ tone is too sharp and abrupt itâs makes him feel a little bad for talking to his friends like that. but just a little.
âlook, you like her, right?â pierre chimes in, but doesnât wait for an answer. âalex is his best friend, if you want a chance with her, heâs the only one who can help you right now.â
but why does he wanna help him?
alex must see the question written all over his face because he says, âsheâs dated a few assholes in the past and i really want something good for her. i trust you, charles.â he tries to look serious which only makes charles laugh. âbesides, i have the perfect idea.â
ALEXâS iMESSAGE â MAY 18, 2023
INSTAGRAM POST
đ VENICE, ITALY â MAY 19, 2023
Liked by scottyjames31, lance_stroll and 976,665 others
yourusername a few days ago i had the pleasure to celebrate two of my favorite people, Chloe and Scotty James. and spent two wonderful days filled with love and joy in the beautiful venice! so happy for you both. đ©đŒââ€ïžâđšđŒđ©·
i wish i could stay here forever, but back to reality for now. :(
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user55 i didnât know sheâs friends with the strolls
lance_stroll I have very embarrassing videos of you, just remember that đŸ
user56 why lance and Y/N look kinda good together
user57 Thatâs exactly what I was thinking. They would look pretty good as a couple user58 he has a girlfriend user59 and Y/N is probably dating charles user57 only rumors
user60 back to reality? sheâs not gonna be in the paddock this weekend?
user61 why would she? nobody wants her there
user62 i thought she was in italy for the gp
user63 just a coincidence user62 still hoping sheâll be there
francisca.cgomes Iâm gonna need to borrow that beautiful dress! â€ïž
user63 she really knows everyone now user64 literally. she was just one time at a race and befriended everyone
user65 i feel like weâre missing something
Y/Nâs iMESSAGE
SATURDAY MAY 20, 2023 â THE MISSION 007 DINNER
the second you see a head of brown hair standing at the door, you want to walk over to where alex is sitting and smash his head on the table. you made sure before arriving to the restaurant that charles was not gonna be there tonight, even lando told you he was busy with some ferrari event. obviously, both lied to you.
âhey, charles!â george, whoâs standing next to you, his girlfriend carmen at your other side, waves at him. and for the first time since that fateful dinner a few days ago, you make eye contact with his bright brown eyes.
butterflies break free inside your belly, even when you try to repress everything he makes you feel.
youâve known charles for no more than ten days but it really feels like youâve known each other your whole life. everything is so easy with him, you canât remember when was the last time you felt this way, if it ever happened.
you thought everything was going well between you two and, for a minute, you let yourself believe he could like you. but then he gave you the cold shoulder and everything came crashing down.
and thatâs your problem. you always feel so much in so little time that when things donât go the way youâd like, everything hurts twice as hard.
thereâs no one to blame but you.
âhey,â is it possible to like the sound of his voice so much that you feel your knees going weak?
âyouâre the last one to arrive. here,â george shares a look with his girlfriend that you donât really know how to read, and both move aside. âyouâre sitting here tonight. weâll go find our seats.â
you want the earth to swallow you. you want to be in a plane far away from here because the seat george is pointing at itâs right next to yours.
before you can open your mouth to say something, the couple slips away. and suddenly it feels like you and charles are the only ones in the room.
no one says a word for what feels like hours. youâre actually trying to find a excuse to leave when charles sighs, defeated.
âiâm sorry.â his voice is almost a whisper, something only for you to hear. âi acted like an idiot.â
âyeah,â you agree because you donât know what else to say. he did act like an idiot, ignoring you for days, not answering your texts even when you asked him if something was wrong.
âi can explain if youâd let me.â
his brown eyes bore into yours, so soft and sincere your heart skips a beat. and even if you want to say no, your whole body begs you to accept.
âletâs eat first and enjoy the evening,â his face lights up like a kid on christmas day. âthen iâll let you buy me dessert and we can talk.â
TWITTER â SUNDAY MAY 21, 2023
TAGLIST (bold means i couldnât tag you) â @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @sassyheroneckgiant. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen.
note: i hope you liked it. iâm sorry if i forgot to tag you! please let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3
#ê°ê° đ â verstappen cult files ê±ê±#charles leclerc x reader#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 grid x reader#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#f1 smau#f1 social media au#social media au#f1 instagram au#f1 imagine#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc blurb
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wrong carvajal | lando norris x carvajal!reader
summary; when lando is going to barcelona for the grand prix and decides to text his new friend carvajal, but apparently he got the wrong number
fc; rita mota
warnings; english is not my first language
taglist; @thef1diary @bigsimperika @shobaes @d3kstar @stinkyjax @the-untamed-soul @bibissparkles @judespoision @weekendlusting @formula1mount @tremendousstarlighttragedy
âââââââââ ౚৠâââââââââ
ynâs phone
landoâs phone
mate
is there any chance you gave me
the wrong number?
landooooo
probably why
*sends screenshot*
JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA
what number do you have
+34 *** *** ***
thatâs my sisterâs
sorry
just change the last digit to a
2 and you got it
thanks
now moving onâŠ.you have a sister
donât even think about it
kayđ
yncarvajal
liked by rhode, landonorris and others
yncarvajal your sign to go spend your summer w @rhode đ
rhode đâïžđđ«¶âš
yncarvajal ilyđâïžđ«¶đ
user1 she really is the it girl i fear
judebellingham looking like shit
yncarvajal sftu
user2 this friendship is everything to me
landonorris đŠ
yncarvajal not you again
yourbestfriend you are glowing babe i miss youđ
yncarvajal me and ykw miss you too, just two more daysđđđ
ynâs phone
landonorris
liked by dani.carvajal.2, carlossainz55 and others
landonorris partying in spain is always a wild experienceđ„ you look cute btw
user1 i see what you did there
user2 he was hanging out with the real madrid players
user3 was yn there??
user2 some people said they saw her making jude take pictures of her
user4 as she should
dani.carvajal.2 always a pleasure
landonorris looking forward to do it againđ
dani.carvajal.2 i know what youâre looking forward to
landonorris đł
judebellingham donât make me regret finding you cool mate
yncarvajal
liked by landonorris, judebellingham and others
yncarvajal while the boys were messing around đž
judebellingham dawn i wish i was a boy
yncarvajal shut up, i deserve every favor you do for me
user1 she just confirmed it
user2 go girl, make the famous footballer do the work
user3 is so iconic how lando runs to like her posts and she doesnât even follow himđđ
user4 homeboy is struggling
landonorris hey (louder than everyone else)
user5 he ainât getting anything acting like these
user6 never beating the norriz allegations
ynâs phone
part two will be out after the race, letâs see if lando gets a podium and a dateđâšđ𫶠love you all, sorry for the long break đ„Č
#formula 1#f1#cars#grand prix#moodboard#aesthetic#f1 smau#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#lando norris smau#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris#lando norris x yn#lando norris imagine#lando norris fic#mclaren
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friggin faux-Palestinian history, istg
I'm in the middle of writing a post about the difficulties of pinning down details and dates in Palestinian history. This one is just me stopping to vent for a sec.
I came across the Wikipedia page for GUPS, the General Union of Palestinian Students. This is an organization with groups at colleges all over the world. Ish. It's shrunk over the decades.
The page made a bold claim: that GUPS was officially founded in Cairo in 1959, but had really started in the 1920s.
I called bullshit. The only source cited was a dead link to the 2010 version of the SFSU GUPS page, which said the same thing -- no context, no source, and especially, no explanation of how Palestinian student organizing could have started before there were colleges or universities in Palestine.
There were two. They were tiny. And they both taught in Hebrew.
Certainly, there could have been Arab Palestinian students there, who learned Hebrew there, or already knew it.
But were there so many that they started a student group that apparently lasted 35+ years before getting a name??
I could not find one other source for this.
So I deleted it and called bullshit.
Within a day, someone who wasn't even logged in reverted my edit. They told me that I hadn't proven that it was wrong, I'd just said it was illogical.
I started looking up sources and putting together a more detailed edit. In the meantime, I started a topic on the totally empty talk page, politely calling bullshit.
I said that I hadn't been able to find any sources in English OR Arabic that confirmed this claim, and that I thought it was an error made on a dead page.
The same person, now logged in, replied:
"you still haven't refuted the claim. the claim is still on their web page."
BRUH.
IT'S AN ARCHIVE OF A DEAD PAGE. BY DEFINITION, IT DOESN'T CHANGE.
This is exactly how it feels to research any of this stuff.
Every single time, it turns out that people's unsourced online bullshit is absolutely wrong.
Every single time, people just respond by insisting on believing whatever claim some rando made on the internet.
The problem is not that Palestinian history doesn't exist, hasn't been written down, or hasn't been researched. Of fucking course it has!!
(I have literally seen people claiming the contrary in the most wild-ass fucking ways. Supposedly-pro-Palestinian people, acting like Palestinians are wooby powerless fuzzy babbies whose books were all stolen by the cruel Jews 80 years ago, who had no way to replace that historic knowledge, and who have just been standing around ever since. It is the most Western Paternalism shit ever, and it absolutely drives me up the wall.)
The problem is that this is a topic that a lot of people are passionate about. And unfortunately, a whole lot of people are unwilling to back down on literally anything that "feels" pro-Palestinian to them, whether it's true or not.
It's purely going on Vibes, but the Vibes themselves are based on how something compares to the Vibes they get from social media and stuff.
And those vibes are so extreme and vehement that any kind of pushback sounds like You Love Genocide And Kill Babies For Fun.
It's just a fucking vicious spiral.
It's like playing tennis against the tennis-ball-throwing machine. It's not a real game. Nobody is engaging with you. It's just the same shit over and over.
(I was trying to type "shot." But apparently I swear so much that instead of autocorrecting me to "ducking hell," my phone now INSISTS I meant to cuss.)
I ended up getting Google to give me the Arabic for GUPS, and then digging for sources about its actual origin.
It turns out Yasser Arafat formed the Palestinian Students League in Cairo in 1949, and that became GUPS in 1956. This is entirely fucking unsurprising in any way if you know anything at all about actual Palestinian history. Of fucking course he did. This also explains why the first search result I found about GUPS was from the PLO. Of fucking course it was.
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Cowboy hat rule, Part 4 (Tyler Owens, Twisters)
A/N: Letâs put it this way, I donât remember writing this. But it certainly exists so you may have it, I want to rewatch this movie completely legallyđŽââ ïž, but Iâm not at home and I canât. Physically weeping as I type this.
Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader.
Summary: In between butting heads with Javiâs team and running a successful YouTube channel based entirely around tornadoes, Tyler Owens is introduced to the most interesting woman heâs seen in a good while - and her sister.
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: kind of suggestive (honestly not sure, itâs pretty late and my brain doesnât work), minor swearing, Iâm beginning to forget the movie so forgive me, very limited knowledge of America (Iâm English).
Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
I have redone the form for the taglist now that Iâm apparently expanding from Criminal Minds
A rodeo, he brought her to a rodeo.Â
And not just any rodeo, but one in the middle of tornado valley. For the amount of tornadoes this place gets, there are a lot of people here. It makes her nervous.Â
Thankfully, there are idiots on horses to keep her entertained, and reminiscing about her childhood.Â
At some point, Tyler leaned over. Pressing his shoulder to hers and ducking his head so she could hear him. His breath just ghosting her ear.Â
âNot your first rodeo?â
âNot even close.â
Her eyes flicked to his, grinning up at him. Heâs certain the sight of her smiling at him is going to be seared in his brain forever.Â
Especially when she shuffled closer, so that she could be heard. Their thighs pressed together nearly as close as their shoulders. He could smell the faint traces of her perfume, he wishes sheâd put some on before theyâd left.
âDaddy used to compete in rodeos, up until we were eleven. He had an accident, and mom told him that if he ever did it again it wouldnât be the bulls he had to worry about.â
He loves her mom, right now sheâs the greatest woman in the world. Besides the pretty woman that she created, sat pressed against him.Â
Her eyes went back to the rodeo, but his didnât, watching her profile and wondering how he got so.. smitten.
Nudging her with his shoulder, he gave that bright grin - a real, happy grin that people are accustomed to.Â
âIâm learning all sorts about you Alpine.â
âThat you are, and yet you remain an enigma.â
âAww, you donât have to go about using all kinds of fancy words, you can just call me pretty.â
They both laughed at that, hushed and slightly giggled. Like a pair of schoolchildren mucking about in assembly and didnât want to get caught.Â
Leaning into each other, wondering why everything feels so much funnier when theyâre together.Â
But then she nudged him, telling him to actually tell her something about himself.
âI used to compete too, got stomped in the head a little too much and figured college would do me a little better.â He fidgeted with his watch, fitting it properly to his wrist. âI donât mean to pry, but since weâre in a sharing mood, whatâs up with Kate and Javi?â
She gave a long suffering sigh, and he realised he mightâve just hit a sensitive subject. But before he can tell her not to worry about it, sheâs smiling at him.Â
Sheâd leant away now, and he doesnât like it, leaning with her arms on the back of the seats, her legs crossed and no longer against his.Â
Is it selfish? To want her close again? Because he can be selfish if thatâs what it takes.Â
âHeâs always had a thing for her. We used to work together, a group of us. Me and Javi were dating, Kate had her boyfriend, but I knew he loved her. I looked a lot more like her then.. I was a replacement but that was fine because at least I could pretend I was loved.â
Giving Tyler a soft smile, she realised that was probably a little more than he bargained for.Â
Not knowing that he was currently cycling through all the ways he could murder the guy and shove him into a tornado to make it look like an accident.Â
He could do it, itâs not hard to shove a dead body into a tornado when you drive into them for a living.
âMaybe heâll finally get his head out his ass and ask her out. I doubt it though, heâs terrified of rejection.â
Tyler nodded, eyebrows furrowed, and then leant back with her. Arms going around the back of the chairs, fingers dusting her shoulder.Â
Somehow, even that small touch was enough for her body to become instantly aware of the lingering heat from when theyâd been pressed together.Â
Then he gave her another one of those smiles, and she couldâve melted straight through the plastic.Â
âIf you want, I could run him over and send him up into a tornado. Let God and the weather do their things.â
She laughed - thank God she laughed - and heâs certain that heâs found something more beautiful than any tornado heâd ever chased in his entire life.Â
And when she calmed down to look at him, smile still playing at those pretty kissable lips, her hands swatted out against his chest.Â
âDonât make it sound like you murder people so often, I have to get back in the truck with you.â
âAhh, donât worry about that Alpine. Youâre too pretty to murder, canât have the world bereft of that face now can we?â
Before she can answer, a swirl of leaves assault the audience, including them. Leaves that, really, were too violent to have just been caught up in a gust of wind.Â
Picking one up, she crumpled the leaves and then opened her palm. The way they spread out left her nervous.Â
âWere you tracking out this way?â
Looking to him nervously, she didnât like that look on his face. Because they had been, but from the data, even Kate said the one out this way shouldnât form anything too bad.Â
Maybe the conditions for the tornado improved, because it definitely seems like something had touched down. By the way the bleachers are rattling.Â
He didnât answer either, just looking around at all the people here, calculating the tragedies if something did set down.Â
But it hadnât, or else they wouldâve gottenâ
All at the same time the tornado warnings sounded on their phones, and everyone began to panic, including her.Â
Snapped out of it by Tyler taking her hand and getting her up. Pulling her through the crowd.Â
âCome on, we need to find shelter!â
Itâs hard to hear over the wind, and when she heard shit start flying off behind them, her blood felt sharp in her veins and she kept up the pace next to him.Â
Glad heâs got her hand in his or sheâs not sure how fast she could run.Â
âI donât- I donât go into tornadoes, I do the data. I donât go into the fucking things! Iâm not you, Iâm not used to this.â
He pulled her to a stop just inside a motel parking area, thankfully covered for now. Grabbing her shoulders and looking at her sincerely, realising that she really was scared.Â
He knew she stayed back, he didnât know why, but the genuine terror on her face said enough.Â
âYouâll be alright, I promise. I wonât let you get hurt by this thing. But we need to get to shelter, okay?â
As he started pulling her along, all the noise rushed back to her and made her feel sick. Aware of the crashes and the screams, and the drag of metal on metal as the motel threatened to break apart.Â
A woman was trying to get her daughter into the car, and she dragged Tyler to a stop.Â
âNo! No, donât get in your car!! Get out, come here!â
They did, thank God, and joined them in the motel. Shoving past the idiot at the desk who clearly doesnât know whatâs going on.Â
Everyone talking all over each other about basements or shelters.Â
She was going a little haywire, and caught onto the crash of a metal gate swinging back and forth. The pool. Itâs emptied and the wall wouldâve been opened for maintenance.Â
Thereâd be an alcove for them to huddle in and hopefully things to hold onto.Â
Grabbing Tylerâs arm and shouting over everyone else.Â
âCome on! We havenât got time to argue, follow me!â
Shouldering open the door, she knew the woman and her child were close behind. As well as the clerk, while Tyler was trying to convince the two idiots that there was actually a tornado.Â
Helping the woman into the pool, both her and her daughter were sobbing, not that she blamed them. Itâs a miracle that she isnât.Â
Once the little girl was safely in her momâs arms, she motioned for them to get to the end of the pool.Â
Turning around to look for Tyler, she felt his hands on her waist from behind, easing her quickly towards the ladder to get into the pool. Allowing herself a moment to breathe.Â
Until she caught sight of that couple trying to drive away, getting caught up in the tornado that is way too close for comfort.
Hurrying down, she reached up for Tyler, half wanting him to just jump down, and get to safety as quickly as possible. Pressing a hand to his back to stable him as he dropped down.Â
Both of them rush over to alcove with the woman and her daughter.Â
Showing them where to hold, and that she should keep her daughterâs eyes covered from any debris. And not to let go or look around for any reason.Â
As she started to get a grip on the pipes, she heard a shriek from the motel clerk. He had tried to stand up while Tyler was helping him, and was sent to the shallow end.Â
Then the idiot tried again and was dragged off into the sky. Her heart was heavy in her throat as she watched Tyler turn and start to crawl back to them. Fighting against the wind.Â
Holding on tight to the pipes, but leaning out with her hand as far as she could go. Desperately reaching for him.Â
Especially when a bus or something landed in the pool and started to tip over them. Heâd be crushed.Â
Sheâs too panicked to really think about anything other than making sure he grabbed her hand. Because she wasnât losing anyone else - not him.Â
As soon as his palm connected to hers, she pulled hard, to give him that small bit of leverage he needed right as the bus fell.Â
He pressed up behind her, keeping both her, and the woman pinned to the pipes, holding on as best he could. They got a little more cover from the bus, thankfully, but the wind was still bad.Â
With one arm still curled around the pipes, her other reached back to get a handful of his shirt. He was not going anywhere.Â
Once it was over, all of them soaked and panting, and pretty injured from projectiles, they finally let go.Â
Of the pipes, anyway. She couldnât let go of his shirt yet, even as his hands found her waist. Digging in, to help her stand and reassure himself theyâre still alive.Â
Once theyâd stood, and stumbled out from around the bus, they walked up to the shallow end to look around.Â
The town - the rodeo - had been decimated.Â
And with his hands still comfortably on her waist, she eased the grip on his shirt. Finally turning and wrapping her arms around him. Squeezing as tight as she could to try and now reassure herself.Â
Theyâre both alive; theyâre both okay.Â
He hugged her back just as tightly, and sheâs not sure if itâs the adrenaline from surviving, but she never wants to be anywhere but his arms ever again.Â
Want more?! Good!
#tyler owens#twisters#twisters movie#twisters 2024#twisters fanfic#twisters x reader#twisters spoilers#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens fanfiction#twisters fic#tyler owens fic
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because even then, i knew â l.sm { 1 }
You have (1) new voicemail from: seokmin <3Â
â¶ïž âąáá||á|á||||áá|âą 0:58
âHey. I know we havenât talked in a while but⊠I wanted you to know that I miss you, and I miss us. And⊠Iâm in love with you, if that means anything to you now.â
â° genre: non idol! seokmin x reader, stanger to lovers / kdrama au
â° cw: female reader, petnames, cursing, seokmin is desperately down bad, slowburn, pining, so much fluff, mentions of alcohol, consuming alcohol, nsfw, mentions of cheating, angst
â° wc: 21k
â° tracklist: {spotify} {apple music}
â° navigation: {one} {two}
â° note: this story is my absolute baby. i stared writing it one day with no plot in mind, and ended up with 45k. it's supposed to feel like a kdrama as you read it (and i mean this in every sense of the wordâyou will see), so please listen to the tracklist as you scroll. the songs are carefully timed in order to play as you read certain parts, but if you're not sure you're listening to the right song, part two will tell you where you should be and you will resync.
please love this story, it was written with an unbelievable amount of care, detail, and intention.
âĄ;- ê° Â° one ê±
Love at first sight is undoubtedly the biggest fabrication that the media and modern culture has ever tried to push on society. It only happens in the movies, and even then, itâs barely done right. There is no such thing as happy endings, because thatâs not how things are in the real world.Â
Make no mistake; Lee Seokmin is not a pessimist, nor is he a bitter person. Heâs the kind of guy who helps old people cross the street during rush hour, or helps kids pluck their balloons out of trees so they wonât cry. He actually does like long walks on the beach, as a matter of fact, and he happens to be a casual enjoyer of rom-coms, something his other male friends would rather die than admit to.Â
Once upon a time, he used to be a hopeless romantic, but that rug was pulled out from under him on a few too many occasions, and while heâs still a positive, amicable guy, he had learned that sometimes, things were too good to be true.Â
For example: when he was 7, he fell in love.
His 20 year old babysitter, who his parents had hired to watch over him on evenings while they were at work, was absolutely perfectâhe knew from the moment he met her, she would be the girl heâd marry.Â
She was Korean, and a freshman in college with a major in business management. Every week, she would walk hand-in-hand with him to the corner store to buy him sausage sticks and sticky tteokbokki at the food cart with the money she could spare from her part time job as a tutor, since his parents would only leave money for emergencies. In return for her generosity, heâd sit still and play while she finished her homework, and occasionally, Seokmin would even pick flowers from his momâs garden for her. This earned him a few scoldings, but that didnât matter to him, because she was, and would always be worth it.Â
Until one day, where he had promised to behave while she finished a practice test. Poor, unsuspecting, seven-almost-eight-year-old Seokmin with his cheeks stuffed full of sausage and rice cake, overheard her calling another boy (albeit a boy her age who could actually reciprocate her affection) a sweet name over the phone. He dropped everything and stomped over to her, bursting into tears and rambling on about how she broke his heart. She was fired the very same evening as a consequence of his tantrum.Â
When he was 14, he fell in love again. And this time, it had to be love⊠right?Â
A family of foreigners had moved in across the street, and their daughter, who was the same age as him this time around, would come over to study with him after school and on the weekends. Sheâd teach him English, and heâd teach her Korean. She was his first kiss and his first girlfriendâthey lasted a reputable two monthsâuntil they moved back overseas. Apparently, her parents had only moved there for the summer as part of a work-related trip, and when they said goodbye and promised to write, little Grace revealed she didnât want a committed, long-distance relationship at the ripe age of fourteen.
In retrospect⊠maybe she was right, but Seokmin would never forget the way his heart shattered.Â
The only real, long-term girlfriend heâs had was a little over two years ago. They dated for over a year, she met his parents and he met herâs, the two of them even exchanged promise rings. At the time, he would gush to his friends about how heâd never met anyone as funny and brilliant as her, and how lucky he feels to have done so.Â
Then, the week before his birthday, Seokmin found out she had been sleeping with her best friend for months.Â
Love at first sightâtrue loveâIt was a flat out lie, and he refused to fall for its charm ever again.Â
So why, he thinks to himself, why canât he stop looking at you?Â
He noticed you for the first time last week after his car had been totaled during an impromptu road trip the day prior. Soonyoung, one of his best friends, had gotten on the subway while drinking and somehow ended up eight stops away from his apartment at an ungodly hour in his wasted state. Seokmin was the only one that answered the phone. He picked him up, but on the way back, Soonyoung tried to crawl out the window of the passenger seat and Seokmin, whilst trying to pull him back inside, had crashed into a tree.
The car was old, and he was saving up for a new one anyway. That, and the insurance gave him some chump change for the wreckage, which was more than heâd thought heâd get, so it wasnât too bad. The biggest inconvenience he faced now was getting to and from work.Â
Every night, after his shift at the flower shop, Seokmin would take the bus transit home. The first night, he only saw you in passing, because he practically had to run after the bus to catch it after arriving late to the stop. He took the first seat he could find, panting and exhausted after his long shift and the blip of a marathon he just ran, and sunk down into it.Â
Since he had never needed to take the bus until now, he spent some time glancing out the window and studying the route, discovering the stop near his apartment was the very last one, arriving at nearly 10:00 P.M. Yours was the second to last one, only a few blocks over. That evening, he only barely caught a glimpse of the side of your face as you climbed off, crossing the street and strolling out of sight with way too many things clutched within your jacketed arms.Â
The following night, he made it to the bus on time, thankfully, and spotted you sitting near the back, though that didnât mean much to him yet. He took his same seat near the front, despite the many empty spots throughout the vehicle. And just like before, at the second to last stop, you walked down the middle aisle to exit.Â
This time, while wrestling your books, laptop case, walkman, and coat, your headset wire had snagged on the seat in front of him. He watched as you turned around and detangled it hurriedly, your gaze barely flickering up to meet his curious one for a split second. You flashed him a ghost of a smile and then, you were gone again.Â
Seokmin found himself looking forward to seeing you every single night from then on.Â
He decided to start sitting in the back of the bus too, blaming his avid interest in you purely on the distorted conclusion that it made no sense to sit in the front! He was always the last one aboard, and the back had so many more seats for him to get comfortable.Â
Thatâs what he convinced himself of, at least for the first few days. He tried sitting in a couple different spots, though he wouldnât dare sit too close to youâheâs not that bold. He did, however, decide after his trial and error period that his favorite seat was the far left one on the last row. Your seat was forever unchanging, on the second to last row and all the way to the right.Â
This way, he could watch over your shoulder as you typed away on your computer. You seemed to be writing something personal, because night after night, youâd create paragraph after paragraph, working tirelessly to craft whatever it was that you were working on so extensively. He figured it couldnât be just any assignment or work-related exposition. This meant something to you, and that only spiked his curiosity more. The only pause in your routine of clicking away at keys was skipping a song or two on your walkman or glancing out the window for inspiration.
Heâs never sat close enough to actually read the words on your screen, but then again, that might be overstepping a bit. The urge does frequently bug him, though, especially when he notices how immersed you become the moment you lift the screen of your laptop and open your document. Every night, he watches you do the same thing, and every night, he fights the urge to strain his neck and catch a glimpse of a single word on your screen.Â
He contains himself, though, on the principle that eavesdropping is wrong, and he intends to never do you wrong.Â
On the sixth night he spends in his new seat, he notices about twenty minutes in when your fingers stop clicking away. At first, he considers the possibility that you may be thinking or planning your next sentence. But, as the bus nears your stop, you donât move to start picking up your things. It immediately alerts him, and he sits up straighter as he realizes, youâve fallen asleep.Â
Heâs never given something so simple so much thought in such a short time. He can feel the bus slowing down, and he can hear the brakes screeching and wheezing. Would he feel worse for disturbing your rest and making an inevitably awkward first impression, or letting you continue to sleep and possibly (definitely) miss your stop?Â
Certainly the latter.
Without a second thought, Seokmin hurriedly slides out of his aisle and climbs down the two steps of the back row to reach you at your seat, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and giving it a light shake. You donât budge, even when he calls out to you.Â
âExcuse me, Miss. Miss?âÂ
As the bus comes to a full stop and the engineâs roar becomes suppressed, he can hear the music playing through the headset that sits still over your ears. With a grimace, he softly slips them off, and the action is enough to stir you awake. You blink in confusion as you adjust to the brightness of the lights inside the bus, and your eyes land on his widened ones.Â
âSorry for waking you, but,â he gestures outside, âthis is your stop.âÂ
You look around to confirm, and upon seeing the familiar intersection and corner store, you realize what heâs saying is true.
A few things go through your head: First of all, the stranger in front of you has the kindest brown eyes youâve ever seen. Secondly, his nose is absolutely huge, and for some reason, he knows your stop, which makes you wonder where else heâs capable of poking it. So naturally, you ignore the sweet charm behind his eyes and shrug off his arm, grabbing your things quickly and booking it for the door that the bus driver has to reopen when he sees you approaching.Â
You climb off and consider taking a different route, but if he knows your stop, he likely knows which way you walk every single night. You curse at yourself for even falling asleep in the first place, then drag your feet along towards your apartment after accommodating your headphones back over your ears, your walkman clutched in hand, its music swirling in your ears once more.
Because of this, you miss the way Seokmin shouts after you for leaving your phone behind, and the way the bus driver then shouts at him for holding him up.Â
âIâve got a wife to get home to, kid. Get back on the bus or Iâm leaving you here.âÂ
He looks between the device in his hand, you, and back at the burly bus driver who raises a threatening brow his way.Â
In defeat, he gets back on board and walks down until heâs reached his seat, but not before stopping at yours, or rather stumbling there with how aggressively the driver steps on the gas and sends him flying. He does a quick once over your seat to make sure you havenât left or dropped anything else, but your phone is the only thing you forgot in your rush.Â
The drive to his street is rather short, and when he does some calculations on the maps app, he discovers itâs at most a half-hour walk from his place to yours. That revelation makes him regretful, because as he dismounts the bus, crosses the street, and climbs the flight of stairs to his apartment, he realizes he couldâve run after you and given you your phone and just walked home after. It wouldâve allowed him to explain that heâs not a creep, and that he only knows your stop because youâre the only other person on the bus at that hour.Â
He thinks about his encounter with you the whole way to his apartment, and even at home while he takes his shower and brushes his teeth. And still, when he plugs your dead phone in, so that he can give it to you fully charged the next day. As it comes to life, half a dozen messages come in with a series of âdingsâ from a contact you have saved as just a heart. He canât read what the messages say because of the privacy settings you have in place, so he just silences it as more messages come in. He would have tried to let them know your phone isnât with you, but the person with the heart alias never tries to call, and so thereâs nothing Seokmin can do about it but hope tomorrow comes quickly.Â
That thought brings him back to you, and as he lies down, he finds himself tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep because heâs mulling over the way you shrugged him off. Itâs only the long day at work, where he spent eight hours on his feet watering ficuses and making arrangements with daisies and lilies, that manages to silence his brain and lull his eyelids to a close so he can get some rest.Â
Ë àŒâĄ âïœĄËÂ
His shift at the floral shop had gone by painfully slow today. The hours that usually pass relatively quickly with the friendly faces of Korean grandmas that stop by after going to the market, have dragged on for an eternity.Â
He reminds himself that heâs going to see you tonight and that thought gets him through the day. Heâll at last be able to redeem himself of the interaction thatâs been haunting him for the last twelve hours. He even dreamt about you, specifically about the conversation going a completely different way than it did.Â
âSorry for waking you, but this is your stop.âÂ
âOh, my god,â you said. âThank you. I didnât even realize I drifted off.â
âNo worries,â Seokmin would flash you a smile and help you with your things, since he had noticed your tendency to travel with more than you could carry. âHere.â
âThanks again, uhâŠâ
âSeokmin.â
âSeokmin,â youâd repeat, and even in his dream, he had reeled over the way his name rolled off your tongue.
In an extra effort to mend things over with you, Seokmin dips into his weekly paycheck at the end of his shift to buy you a tote bag from the shop. That way, youâd have a place to pack your laptop when you werenât typing up stories, and your coat that you insisted on draping over your arm? It could go in there, too!Â
Why you chose to listen to music on a walkman in todayâs modern age, he has no ideaâbut now youâd have a place to store it so you wonât leave it behind like you had your phone.Â
The tote bag he picks out for you is the nicest, most sizable one in stock. Itâs the first time heâs bought anything from the floral shop, so the measly ten percent employee discount he got was rather underwhelming. Still, it would be worth it. Heâd hand you your phone, explain himself to clear up the previous night's confusion, and offer you the tote bag as a gift.Â
When he climbs on the bus later that evening, youâre sitting in the same spot as always, except this time, youâre expecting him. Your eyes flash up at him then fall back to your laptop. Subsequently, you slump further down in your seat, and Seokmin quickly realizes youâre trying to avoid him.Â
Nowâhe had talked himself through the plan of approaching you all day, itâs all he thought about during the less busy hours of his shift to pass the time. He had walked through the process once, twice, and then again in hopes of nailing down every detail, but he didnât once account for your very obvious disinterest.Â
It offsets his mood entirely, which was confident and sociable just moments ago, and he trails down the aisle, past your seat, and to his own instead with discouragement.Â
The moment he sits, itâs as if someone winded up his leg: it starts restlessly bouncing, and his mind mirrors the action, his inner monologue providing no relief for his grief.Â
If he was any other rational person, he wouldâve taken your coldness with a grain of salt; heâd hand you your phone, say âyou left this.â and go on about his dayâno, his life, as if this moment, as if meeting you, was nothing more than an insignificant scene in the story of his life. He wouldnât spend every hour overthinking your first impression of him, or feeling disappointed that it wasnât what he wanted it to be. And he certainly wouldnât be here, talking himself up to the task of walking over to you once more.Â
Even his own forgiving conscience is embarrassed when he readies himself to stand, chanting âOk. 3âŠ2âŠâ and then sits back down in defeat.Â
This goes on for the better part of an hour, until Seokmin remembers youâd be getting off soon. This realization materializes as the last person besides the two of you gets off, and the familiar buildings that are just a few blocks away from your stop come into view. At the same time, a new string of messages come in from the same individual who was writing to you last night, and Seokmin decides itâs about time that he returns your phone to youâfor real this time.Â
With a nod to himself, he pushes off the chair with his legs and forces them to move him over to you, where he stands for a few seconds, waiting for you to notice him. In one hand, heâs holding out your phone, and under his other arm is the folded tote bag heâs planning to give you. He canât get his tongue to comply, making his feet work was hard enough, so hovers over you a little longer until you practically feel his eyes on you and look up.Â
âHiââÂ
You slide your headphones off one ear, and he clears his throat.Â
âHi.â He repeats, âMy name is Seokmin. Iâm the guy who woke you up last night.âÂ
âI know.â You cast your eyes down to your phone and he leans it closer to you.
âYou left your phone here.âÂ
Your lips purse contemplatively as you take it, mumbling out a quick âthanks,â and unlocking it to inspect your pile of notifications. Seokmin only clears his throat again.
âI also wanted to apologize for yesterday. I didnât mean to come off as a weirdo, Itâs justââ
You seem to lose focus of what heâs saying as you read through the messages on your phone, a deep frown molding over your features. The fact that youâre not listening at all trips him up, especially when heâs trying so hard to recite the mental script he prepared for this very moment.Â
âUh, I just⊠The only reason I know your stop is because itâs only you and me on the bus this late. So, you knowââÂ
As he points this out, you perk your head up and look around, as if to check for yourself that this is, in fact, true. It doesnât ease your apprehension about him, but his kind eyes look so desperate in their plea for your understanding that, for a fleeting instant, you manage to hone in on his explanation and dismiss your suspicions about his nosy tendencies.Â
âNaturally, I just noticed, and I didnât want you to miss your stop.â
When you nod once and say âok,â he almost wishes you hadnât said anything at all. Thatâs it? Thatâs all you have to say to ease his discomfort?Â
âOh, I almost forgot,â he didnât almost forget, he just wanted to sound nonchalant, âI got you this since youâre alwaysââÂ
âWell, SeokminâŠâ Itâs even better than in his dream, hearing you say his name, âYou should know better than me by now that,â you point outside and the bus reaches a halt, âthis is my stop.âÂ
Hurry up, Seokmin. âI got you this bag for your things.âÂ
You take it from his outstretched hands with the smallest mutter of gratitude, but donât bother to inspect it or put it to use. You simply pile it atop of your laptop and coat with pursed lips, not sparing it a second glance. Heâs almost confused about why youâre still staring him down expectantly after that, until it becomes clear to him that heâs blocking the aisle and in turn, your exit.Â
Somewhat awkwardly, Seokmin moves aside, and you waste no time in passing right by him and heading for the door with all your trinkets stacked up in your arms.Â
Dejection is an appropriate word to describe how Seokmin feels right about now. So is frustration.Â
Even after you leave, cross in front of the bus, and make your way home, Seokmin stands in the same spot, dumbfounded. He stays like this for a few seconds, even when the bus moves and messes with his balance. Itâs not until his annoyance really settles in, nestling in his bones and making his face glow red, that he manages to stomp back over to his spot and plop down.Â
You are easily the most irritating person he has ever met; ill-mannered, ungrateful, rude, and downright selfish. Seokmin stopped going to therapy months after he recovered from his ex, but he finds himself regressing in the âself-recognitionâ area at this moment. Although he can consciously acknowledge that his anger stems from your interaction not going as he wanted it to, he still decides to dump the blame on you and call you all these names in his head. Why he so desperately wants to be liked by you, he doesnât know. Why heâs irrationally spiraling in the absence of your approval, he also doesnât know.Â
What he does know is that the next twenty-four hours are going to be just as bad as the last, and heâs going to be kicking himself until he sees you again and gives you a piece of his mind.Â
Tonight, he rolls around in bed longer than usual, until the clock strikes two and he canât keep his eyes open any longer.
The next day, when Seokmin boards the bus, youâre nowhere to be seen. Youâre not at your seat, nor anywhere else for that matter, which he decides is for the best, because heâs able to swallow down his explosive complaints for another day instead of possibly causing a scene on the bus.Â
Ha! Youâre lucky you didnât get on tonight, he thinks, I'll spare you from my lecture for another evening.Â
Except the following night, you arenât there either.Â
As it turns out, you arenât on the bus for the next six days straight.Â
And instead of recovering from his emotions like a normal person, Seokmin is only spurred on, tormented and pursued by his thoughts of you. They've shifted, because now he can only help but wonder what youâre up to. Heâs back to square one, wondering if he weirded you out so much that you resorted to finding another means of transportation with the sole intention of avoiding him.Â
Then, he reproaches himself, his rationale telling him that surely, there must be another reason for your absenceâone that isnât at all related to him. He ponders this as he piles a few stems of lilies and eucalyptus on one another, wrapping them and tying them closed.Â
âSeokmin-ah. Whatâs the matter?â
He turns quickly to face Ms. Boo, the owner of the flower shop and the grandmother of his best friend. On more than a few occasions, she had acted as a grandmother to him, tooâbringing him lunches and pestering him about eating enough, or nagging him for not dressing properly in cold weather.Â
âNothing!â
âLook what youâre doing to my flowers.â She narrows her eyes, extending a wrinkled finger out in his direction.Â
Seokmin glances down to find that his knuckles have gone white against the stem of the babyâs breath he's been unconsciously shaking like a rattle. The delicate white flowers have been pulverized, reduced to white fuzz on the arrangement he was attempting to make and the surrounding surface of the work station.Â
âAh, shi-â She gives him a glare, âSorry.â He quickly rephrases, âIâll clean this up.â
As Ms. Boo straightens out some gardenias in a vase, she asks him again, âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
He takes a deep breath, reaching for the dustpan under the counter. âItâs just⊠Someone I met on the bus.â
âIs she pretty?â
âVery.â He nods, then sighs. âI just wish the conversation we had went differently, thatâs all.âÂ
âWell,â She seems to be mustering up her years of wisdom, eyebrows raising as she fixes her apron, âYouâre a handsome boy, Seokmin-ah. And youâve got good sense. God knows youâve got more than Seungkwan,â she grumbles the last part, and it makes Seokminâs lips curl up a bit. âYour car isnât fixed yet, right?â
He shakes his head, âNo.âÂ
âSo, then get back on the bus tonight and talk to her.â She insists with the assurance only an 85 year old grandmother could have.Â
âI would, butâŠâ
âAnd stop moping. Youâre making the flowers sad. They feel these kinds of things.â She nods, feeling the petal of the lily between her fingertips. Suddenly, she snaps her fingers, âFinish this arrangement and get back to work.â
He finishes brushing the white fuzz of the carnation into the dustpan and discarding it before tackling the bouquet he was previously working on with a tad more care. He finishes after deciding the pale flowers need a touch of color, so he adds a few pink roses and places it in a bucket near the front window of the store on display.Â
He takes a moment to glance outside at the busy street, watching the people that pass by. Couples stroll hand in hand, and more often than not, the girls will stop their partner to point out the flowers. This was a common occurrence, and if Seokmin was lucky, the displays would draw in a few more customers than usual.Â
Not today, though. As he does a once over every arrangement heâs chosen to display on the window, he realizes they all lack something besides effort. He canât put his finger on exactly what theyâre missing, but Ms. Boo was rightâ the plants do feel emotionsâand these werenât particularly joyous creations.Â
As he sprays the leaves with a little mist bottle he carries around in his apron, he watches through the window each person that passes by in an effort to pass the time. It isnât like thereâs much to do during the less busy hours, and thereâs only so many arrangements he can make when theyâre all coming out dull and lifeless to match his gloom.Â
So, Seokmin opts for people watching, until a specific individual catches him by surprise.Â
At first, he thinks heâs seeing things.Â
Not only have you stopped outside the shop to gaze and gawk at the flowers while wearing a soft, admiring look, but soon enough, the bell above the door has chimed, meaning youâve actually come inside.Â
He would greet you, as heâs supposed to do when a customer enters the shop, but he⊠canâtâat least not from where he is now, ducking behind the sales counter.
Before you could have spotted him, his fight or flight reflexes, or in this case just flight, had kicked in. He couldâve easily ran behind the curtain to the room where some of the flowers are stored, but then he wouldâve ran into Ms. Boo, who would have questioned his reasons for leaving the counter unattended.
Then, he realizes that Seungkwan wouldnât be coming in until later, and their other part-timer Eunchae didnât work today because she had an exam at school.
The service bell at the counter rings once and he grimaces, full of hopeful thinking that youâd just go away if no one appeared. Instead you ring it again, and he ducks lower, until some shuffling behind him and the voice of his best friendâs grandmother gives him away.
âSeokmin-ah, thereâs someone at the counter!â
Thereâs a pause, and though he canât see how your ears perk up at the sound of the familiar name, he knows heâs absolutely busted because even if you didnât correlate that âSeokminâ was also the same guy who woke you up on the bus, heâd be forced to show himself before long. Ms. Boo continues to ramble, much to his dismay.
âAre you still sulking over the pretty girl from the bus?â Yeah, thatâll do it. âAh, Seokmin-ah⊠I donât pay you to sulk.â
At this, Seokmin covers his face with his palm.Â
He has no way of knowing that as heâs willing and pleading with the ground to swallow him whole and spare him from the incoming embarrassment, Ms. Booâs comment had brought a little smile to your face. Youâre peering around the shop for him when you see someone start to peek out from the other side of the counter.Â
First, his fingers. They land on the marble surface, and less than a second later, his dark mop of hair follows, appearing past the slope. Then, his kind eyes, big nose, and his teeth, clenched together tightly in reluctance as he takes in your amused gaze.
You cross your arms over your chest and Seokmin scoffs, shooting up suddenly.Â
âThis is unbelievable!â His laugh is loud and theatrical, though a touch ironic, given the whole âhiding-from-you-behind-the-counterâ situation just seconds prior. He doesnât let his obvious preposterousness stop his rampage, though. In very Seokmin fashion, he commits to the bit, puffing up his chest a little. âYou call me a stalker and now you go and stalk me to my place of employment!âÂ
âI never called you a stalker.â You say simply, and his face falters only slightly. âNor did I stalk you.â Seokmin rolls his eyes as you continue. âAlso, who even says âplace of employment?ââÂ
As if straight out of a bad middle school play, which Seokmin had plenty of practice at back in his day, he regains his confidence at his turn to speak his line, scoffing again at your nonchalant attitude. Why were you so unbothered about the way you treated him? He ignores your question, and readies his next comeback.
âYeah? Well, then how did you know where I work, huh?â
When you wordlessly turn to show off the tote bag slung over your shoulder, a few things occur.Â
The color of Seokminâs cheeks become very red, very fast. His ears quickly glow a similar shade to match. He completely deflatesâletting up on his accusations and dropping the theatrics. Thereâs a reason heâs a florist and not an actor.Â
Then, he realizes what youâre showing offâthe tote bag! Youâre wearing the bag he got you! Youâre actually using it! He can see the wire of your headset poking out of the top, and the square mold of your laptop filling the material!
At the same time, however, his eyes land on the only design or pattern it has. Sewn in black, the bag boldly displays the name of Ms. Booâs flower shop. At this, Seokmin smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck. Â
âI figured Iâd find you here.â You mumble, taking a look around, âitâs a pretty place.â
âYeah.â He nods, but heâs still eyeing you suspiciously, waiting for you to announce the reason for your visit.Â
âI came toâŠâ your fingers reach over the counter to brush off the fuzz of the babyâs breath that remained on his dark green apron, and Seokmin tucks his chin to his chest, exposing all of his chins as his eyes shift between your hand and eyes that are both set on his torso.
âThere.â You sigh, âI came to apologize. I was going through a⊠Well, anyway, I wasnât exactly nice to you, soâŠâÂ
âYeah, thatâs an understatement,â Seokmin grumbles.
âSorry. And thank you.âÂ
âFor?â
You swing the bag around again, âIt came in handy.â
âOh,â He knew it would, âIâm glad.âÂ
âSeokmin-ah⊠Thereâs someone at theâOh, hello.â Shuffling over with a wad of eucalyptuses in her arms, Ms. Boo smiles warmly at you, as she does with all customers who stop by the shop.Â
âMs. Boo, this isâŠâ
âY/N.âÂ
âY/N.â Both of them echo your name, though Seokmin does it under his breath, in a quiet affirmation to himself. He decides instantly that itâs perfect, and that it suits you perfectly. He doesnât intend for it to be a Tony and Maria situation, but the way it sounds, rolling off his tongue, is seamless and simply, right.
âItâs lovely to meet you,â Ms. Boo adds. Â
âLikewise. Excuse me, I wanted to know if I borrow Seokmin real quick? I owe him a coffee.âÂ
Seokmin hisses apprehensively, reinstating his act momentarily as he begins rolling up his sleeve to search for the time on his watch. âYeah, well, my break isnât for anotherââ
âTake him, please. But only give him back when heâs in a better mood.â She gives him a light-hearted glare as she scurries away, calling out, âevery plant heâs walked past today has wilted.âÂ
âI plan to do just that. Thank you.âÂ
He makes it look like heâs in some kind of distress when he unties his apron and lifts the neckloop over his head, but really, he canât wait to cut work for a coffee with you. Thereâs a little cafe nearby, and heâs almost sure thatâs where youâll be taking him. He also canât wait to recommend his favorite drink to you, though part of him worries you might not enjoy it and consequently bruise his ego a littleâgiven the fading but still ever-present grudge heâs holding against you.
Seokmin canât help but prolong the act of clocking out: changing shoes, grabbing his wallet and phone from his cubby, folding his apron (instead of hanging it up in whatever state itâs in, as he usually does), while you shift your weight between your heels and gawk at him in wait. He does all this in an effort to extend the minutes he has with you. His break is fifteen minutes, but those fifteen minutes canât go by if the clock technically hasn't started counting.
You stand by patiently, following him around with your eyes as he tidies up a single flower out of place or wipes his hands down on a rag. When heâs finally ready, and canât be bothered to pretend that lacing his sneakers actually takes longer than two minutes, he joins you on the other side of the counter and follows you to the door.Â
Feeling a little nervous, he clears his throat. âYou donât have to do this, you know. We can just go our separate ways.âÂ
âI do. This way, I can properly convey my apology and gratitude. You know: two birds, one stone.âÂ
âThose are two separate things⊠Itâs only right that you would owe me two coffees then.â The way he grumbles under his breath unveils some of his bitterness, though you can tell by the half-hearted side-eye he gives you as he fights back a grin, that heâs really only messing with you.
So you laugh, and Seokmin feels his heart do a somersault in his chest. With a shake of your head, you turn to him, defeated. âAlright. You can get a coffee and a muffin.âÂ
Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see your smile again, he brings his hand up to rub his chin, âHmm, I donât know. I donât really like muffins.âÂ
âWell, then Iâll just have to stop by tomorrow, too.âÂ
At this, Seokmin smiles from ear to ear, tilting his head away towards the street so that you donât catch the way he lights up at the prospect of possibly seeing you again.Â
As the two of you cross the street, you notice a bus stop a little up the way, nodding towards it so he can look. âIs that where you catch the bus?â He nods. âFunny, my stop is only two blocks down the street we came from.âÂ
Seokmin reaches for the door of the cafe, holding it open for you to walk through. To his delight, you seem to be fascinated by the spaceâmeaning itâs likely you havenât been here before. He watches as you study the rustic lights on the ceiling, the shiny wooden tables, and the botany at the window.Â
âThese look like the ones from your shop.âÂ
âThatâs because they are.â He stands beside you. âThe owner of the cafe loves the classics. So do I. So, in exchange for a floral arrangement or two, he lets me borrow a book.â He watches your gaze leave him to face the singular bookshelf he had gestured to, a tall collection of literary classics neatly sorted by author. Your eyes almost bulge out of your head as you take it in, mouth agape as you slowly step toward the shelves.Â
Not yet grasping the extent of your fascination, and with the line to order clearing out, Seokmin remembers heâs on a schedule. âDo you wanna order?âÂ
âIâŠâ You shake your head, fingertips ghosting over the spine of the books without grazing them, because you know better than to touch an antique collection. It doesnât stop you from admiring them, mumbling out a response to the boy next to you without giving it much thought. âI usually get⊠You know what, just order whatever for me.âÂ
You dig for your wallet in the tote bag, handing your card to him without tearing your eyes away from the sight before you. Seokmin only laughs and takes it without the slightest intention to use it. He orders you the drink he thinks you might like the best, as someone with a taste for the traditional things--like classic literature and walkmans--and orders himself a more sugary poison to nurture his sweet tooth.Â
When he pays, he doesnât use your card, but he wraps the receipt around it anyway so you wonât holster any suspicion that he did exactly what he did. He only checks over his shoulder to make sure youâre still distracted, and you are, ogling the books as if you had never seen anything as marvelous as the contents of this bookshelf before.Â
He feels something fluttering in his chest, and he knows very well what caused it, but he pays it no mindâopting instead for leaning into the cashier who heâs frequently talked to during his coffee breaks with his caffeine crazy friend, Boo Seungkwan.Â
âHey, Josh. Do you know if Mr. Kim is in today?â Kim Jongdae, the owner of the cafe, had a soft spot for the flower shop boys ever since they helped make him a beautiful bouquet for his wifeâs birthday. Then, for their anniversary and every celebration thereafter.Â
Joshua shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he starts on the drinks. âHeâs out for the day. Itâs the little oneâs birthday.âÂ
âShame. I wanted to borrow a book.â
âI mean⊠You know you can just grab any off the shelf.â He mumbles, hissing as he nearly burns his finger with the steaming espresso maker, âWhich one do you want?âÂ
âWhichever one she does.â He turns to you,âThatâs why I wanted to ask. Itâs not for me, but for her.âÂ
âAh.â Joshua looks between the two of you, without missing the gentle smile on Seokminâs face as he watches you. He only manages to look away when the older boy at the counter sets both drinks down and clears his throat. âHere.â
âRight.âÂ
âAnd about that book,â he gestures to you, âIâll ask Mr. Kim when I see him tomorrow.âÂ
âThank you, I appreciate it.â With both drinks and your card wrapped in his receipt all clutched in his hands, he makes his way over to you quietly, as if any abruptness would disturb your studying of each and every title. But you hear him comingâthat, or you smell the fresh coffee nearing youâso you spin around on your heels quickly, whisper-shouting as if he wasnât right beside you now.
âThis is incredible. Iâm usually at the library until I get on the bus butâthank you,â You take the drink and instantly bring it to your lips for a sip, âEven the library doesnât have this good of aâah, hot!âÂ
âBe careful!â Seokmin fights the urge to beckon his hand closer to you, but his shoulders still jolt up in concern that you may have burned yourself.
ââgood of a collectionâwow, this is really good.â Your shift in focus makes him hold back a snort.Â
âYou like it?âÂ
âYes, thank you. Should we sit?â He follows you to a table by the window, where the two of you can glance out at the bustling street as you chat.Â
âMs. Boo is nice.â You comment, as you notice one of the displays from the shop sitting at the sill.
âShe is. She nags, but itâs only because she cares. I wouldnât change anything about her.âÂ
You wear a warm smile on your lips as you take another sip, savoring the rich taste of your coffee. âI really like my drink. What did you get for yourself?â
Seokminâs fingers move lazily to push the cup towards you. âDo you wanna try it?â
You hesitate, your gaze flicking between his inviting smile and the drink. After a momentâs pause, you reach for one of the wrapped paper straws sitting near the sugar and salt. You peel it open, pop it into the cup, and take a sip. You seem to like it at first, but then, the overwhelming sweetness hits, a syrupy storm that floods your taste buds, and you immediately regret your decision.
Your face scrunches up in disbelief as you try not to choke on the sugary onslaught, your throat resisting the thick sweetness. âOh god,â you gasp, your eyes wide.
Seokminâs laughter bubbles up effortlessly, and he rolls his eyes, clearly entertained by your reaction. You slide the drink back across the table to him, still reeling from the shock of it. âThatâsâhow can you even drink that?â you manage between soft chuckles.
âReally? Itâs not that bad,â he says with a teasing grin, unbothered by the fact that youâre clearly struggling. âIâd say your drink needs an acquired taste.â
âMine? Iâm drinking coffee.â You set your cup down, now fully convinced that whatever heâs drinking is a bizarre concoction. âI donât know what youâre drinking.â
Seokmin shrugs, his grin only widening. âAgree to disagree.â His cheeks aching from the persistent smile that seems to be permanently affixed to his face now.
You laugh in disbelief before taking a few large gulps of your own coffee, feeling its familiar warmth wash over you and effectively wiping away the remnants of Seokminâs sugary disaster from your palate.
âSo,â you begin, eyes narrowing slightly as you shift your focus to him, âhow long have you been working there?â
âFor a year now.â He leans back slightly in his chair, clearly more relaxed than before.
âDo you like it?â you ask, your curiosity piqued.
He pauses, as if considering his words carefully before answering. âItâs⊠I mean, yes.â
You raise an eyebrow, âI spotted some hesitation there.â
He sighs, a quiet exhale of air as he rubs the back of his neck. âItâs not like I wanna be there forever.â His tone shifts, like heâs trying to brush off the weight of the subject, but it lingers.
Glancing down at your cup, you swirl it around absentmindedly to cool the contents. You try to lighten the mood, teasing him, âNot taking over Ms. Booâs position in the future?â
Seokmin smiles, clearly amused by the suggestion. âIâll leave that to her grandson. He works there, too.â He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture, but there's a quiet finality in his words.
Feeling the need to dig a little deeper, you sit up straight, eyes bright with curiosity. âOkay, so what is it that you wanna do?â
Seokminâs smile falters just a fraction, and for a brief moment, the easy-going confidence he always wears slips. His fingers fiddle with the edge of his cup, and he looks off into the distance, his expression turning distant. âItâs nothing,â he mutters, his tone dropping low.
You pause, sensing something behind the simplicity of his words, but you donât press further. âIt isnât nothing.â You shake your head, âItâs what you wanna do with your life. I wouldnât call that nothing.âÂ
After a brief pause that consists of looking between your eyes and playing with the syllables stuck thickly in his mouth, Seokmin mumbles a single word. âMusic.âÂ
âMusic?â You echo him, then stay silent so he can elaborate. You can tell he feels some degree of discouragement, obvious in the way his shoulders slump down. His hands start fidgeting and he looks out the window again as he seems to recall some memory.Â
âBut itâs nothing serious right now. I mess around with my guitar and write stuff every once in a while, but⊠I havenât really played sinceââÂ
âI would love to hear,â you cut him off, leaning forward, âIf you ever feel like showing someone, I would love to listen to you play.âÂ
Thereâs a sudden bitterness in his throat (that definitely isnât his coffee) as he recalls a slightly stirring memory. Itâs not as distant as he would like it to be, despite his attempt to store it in the âdo-not-openâ file of his mind, but it doesnât stop him from nodding along and agreeing to your offer with some apprehension, because truthfully, you had no part in carving that scar.
Simply put: you were not her.Â
âI havenât played in a while,â he rephrases, âbut when I pick it up again, youâll be the first person I show.âÂ
It doesnât take long before you start telling him about your studies, now that you had succeeded in interrogating him with a few of your burning questions, and it becomes apparent to Seokmin very quickly how easy conversation flows with you. Each word you utter is warm, welcoming, almost familiar, as if he had known you for longer than he didâand he suddenly feels very guilty for having misjudged you.Â
Itâs not like you know of the way he bad-mouthed you in his sensitive mind, so there really is no need to compensate for it. Even then, he feels he owes you somethingâlike he should make it up to you for thinking such things about a person of your nature.Â
He learns that youâre a student whoâs majoring in English literature, with the aspiration to be a writer. The two of you agreed that heâd show you his music, and youâd show him what youâre working onâthe last of which delighted him, seeing as heâd spent weeks trying to guess what your fingers typed away on your computer each night on the bus. You hate sugary drinks, that much you made clear, and you had a strong distaste for the smell of holiday candles.Â
Every word youâd spill left him on the edge of his seat, wanting to know more about you. If it wasnât for the fact that he needed to go back to work, heâd have sat with you for the whole afternoon listening to you talk.Â
But instead, you join him on his walk back to the flower shop, unknowingly having fulfilled your promise to bring him back in a better mood.Â
âMs. Boo?âÂ
âSeokmin-ah? Youâre back right on time. Thereâs a customer who needs a graduation arrangement for their son.â Seokmin can tell sheâs in the backroom, wrestling the hose to fill the watering can from the strain in her voice.
âIâll get my apron on!â He calls, then spins around to face you, âThank you for today. I liked my coffee, even if you didnât think it was great.âÂ
âGood to know. Iâll see you tomorrow, then?âÂ
âTomorrow? Wonât I catch you on the bus tonight?â As soon as the words leave his mouth, he hopes you didnât catch the disappointment behind them.
âTonightâs the last night of my study group, and those usually run late.â So thatâs why you hadnât been taking the bus lately, âSo, tomorrow it is. Unless you donât want that second coffeeâŠâÂ
âI do.â He insists, and your lips curl up as you reach for the doorknob.Â
âAlright, then.âÂ
The instant the door shuts behind you, he starts counting down the hours until he can see you again.Â
Ë àŒâĄ âïœĄËÂ
Seokminâs shift could not have gone any slower. Unlike any day before, the hours could not seem to pass, despite how badly he willed them to. Aside from Seungkwanâs occasional side-eyed-glares and complaints of his uncharacteristically fast work pace today, Seokmin has managed to complete his tasks for the day and more: he prepared two graduation orders placed last minute and a walk-in customer who was uncertain of what âIâm sorryâ bouquet to get his girlfriend, all while trying to appease potential buyers who entered the shop, drawn in by the six new bouquetâs heâd made this very same morning and displayed at the window.Â
All that, and itâs only fifteen past eleven in the morning.
âWhat has you in such a rush? Iâm like four orders behind you. Usually, itâs the other way around.â The last part is but a grumble under his breath.Â
Unable to explain, because he isnât exactly sure of the answer either, Seokmin brushes Seungkwan's suspicious raised brow off and mentions something that would pique his interest instead, in hopes of changing the topic.Â
âYou know Soonyoung said Chan blew him off for a date? They were supposed to go out drinking and thenââÂ
âAnd then Minji called him and he bailed, I know. Canât say Iâm surprised.âÂ
âAnd thenââÂ
âSlow down!â Seungkwan all but yanks the scissors from his best friendâs hands, which is, needless to say, not the safest thing to do, and puts them at his own station. âYouâve been hogging them for the last hour.â he hisses, âIf my grandma comes in and sees that Iâm this far behind, sheâll make me skip my break.âÂ
âI just need time to pass by quickly. I figure if I keep myself busy, it just might.âÂ
âTime doesnât work like that, idiot.âÂ
âActually, it does. Idiot.â He sneers back, and Seungkwan could not look more offended if he triedâeyes wide, lips puckered to shape a word he doesnât quite get to say. He swings back his arm, but before Seokmin could get smacked by the handful of tulips in his grip, Ms. Boo comes bustling through, humming a mindless tune as she clutches a pen and a few envelopes in her arms.Â
âBoys, I've got your pay for this week and the next. I have an appointment with Dr. Hong next Friday, so I wonât be here. I expect youâll take care of the shop while Iâmâthese arrangements are lovely. Who made them?âÂ
The boys look between each other, and Seokmin huffs out before answering. âWe both did, Ms. Boo.âÂ
âGood work. LovelyâŠâ She starts mumbling to herself again as she shifts her attention from the flowers at the windowsill to the bills in her hands, counting them and separating them into two even piles.Â
At Seokminâs reply (call it an unspoken truce), Seungkwan visibly relaxes, releasing the flowers before he could ruin them and scurrying over to his grandma. âHave you been taking your medicine? You know heâll scold you otherwise.âÂ
âIâm too old to be scolded,â She replies stubbornly, and their conversation fades momentarily as the door chimes again.Â
âWelcome to Botanicalâoh.â Seokminâs scripted introduction is cut short as he notices that itâs you who has entered the shop, wearing a small smile.Â
âHi.â You greet him, âand hello, Ms. Boo.âÂ
âHello.â She chirps, âY/N, was it?âÂ
âYes, thatâs right.âÂ
âHey,â Seokminâs wide smile, which nourished the moment he laid eyes on you, suddenly falters as he realizes the time. âShit, are you here for-âÂ
âLanguage.âÂ
âSorry,â he bows his head apologetically at Ms. Boo, then grabs your arm to drag you a little further from the pair, âI canât take my break right now.â He tells you, regretfully. Your smile falls a little.
âReally? I was looking forward to our coffee time. Plus, I desperately need some caffeine. Iâve been reading this boring manuscript since seven.â You scowl, gesturing to the stack of papers overflowing from your bag.
That pout, the one on your lips: it needs to be fixed as soon as possible. Seokmin holds a single finger up as he scours his brain for a plan, âWait here a second. Let me see what I can do.â With that, he turns around and speedwalks over to Seungkwan, who hands him his half of the money.Â
âHere.âÂ
âThanks.â Seokmin takes the bills, not quite meeting Seungkwanâs eyes as he pockets them. âHey, listenâŠâ His voice drops, just low enough that it almost feels like a secret. âI need to take my break now.â
Seungkwan blinks in confusion, his brow furrowing. âWhat?!âÂ
âShh!â Seokmin urges, his face a mix of impatience and pleading. He tugs at his sleeve, leaning closer so only Seungkwan can hear. âPlease.â
âNo way,â Seungkwan protests, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. âI take the morning breaks, you take the afternoon. Thatâs how this works.â
Seokminâs expression hardens just a fraction, the edge of desperation creeping in as he stands a little taller. âSeungkwan, Iâm begging you to switch with me just this once.â
Seungkwan stares at him, weighing his options. His arms remain crossed, a stubborn defiance settling into his posture. âNo way.â
With no other option, Seokmin huffs and crosses his arms firmly over his chest.Â
âFine,â Seokmin finally says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. âIâll just go tell your grandma how many customers Iâve helped today and that all the displays were my doing andââ
âOkay, okay!â Seungkwan interrupts, throwing his hands up in surrender. âGod, dude, you really suck. Donât make this a habit, yeah?âÂ
Spoiler alert: he would.
Seokminâs face lights up with a grin. âThank you!â he exclaims, not even giving Seungkwan a chance to protest before his apron is untied with a swift yank. Itâs tossed into Seungkwanâs arms, and Seokmin is already dashing toward the back, his shoes clacking against the floor with each hurried step.
He doesn't wait for the usual stream of complaints to catch up to him, knowing full well that theyâre coming. Quickly, Seokmin kicks off his non-slip shoes in one fluid motion, leaving them in a pile as he slides into his own sneakers.Â
Less than a minute later, he joins you by the door.Â
âCoffee time?â His tone is playful, and you mirror it as you nod once. Â
âCoffee time.âÂ
The cafe has a few students scattered around with their laptops when you enter. Thereâs also a few others, people who Seokmin knows work in the stores and buildings nearby. They stop by occasionally for their lunch and coffee breaks, but even then, the cafe is emptier than it is most days at this time. Mr. Kim is alongside Joshua, tending to something on the register, when the two of you approach them.Â
âMorning,âÂ
âGood morning, Seokmin.â Kim Jongdae offers the boy a warm smile.Â
Thereâs a bit of small talk exchanged between themâMr. Kim asks about Ms. Boo and Seungkwan, Seokmin asks about his sonâs birthdayâuntil Seokmin goes to introduce you, but turns around to find you near the bookshelf once more. This seems to remind Mr. Kim of something he discussed earlier with Joshua.Â
âMy answer is yes, by the way.â He starts, âJoshua asked me this morning. He said you, or rather, she wanted to borrow a book. Go ahead. Itâs the least I can do to repay you boys for the hard work you do to make this place look nice.â Mr. Kim gives him a firm nod, patting Joshua on the back after briefly explaining a new menu item on the screen. He walks off, and Seokmin calls out to him.Â
âThank you, really!â He turns to Joshua, âand thank you, too. Iâll get the same two drinks as yesterday. â
âYou got it.âÂ
He pays quickly and turns around, pausing for a few moments to admire you before taking two long strides over. When heâs beside you, he lowers his head so itâs by your shoulder and speaks quietly, so as to not disturb you. âWhich one piques your interest?âÂ
âWhich ones,â you correct, marveling up at him before looking back to the shelves. âThereâs so many. I wouldnât know which one to grab first if I could.â Your index finger comes up after a pause, âMaybe this one.âÂ
âGo on, then.âÂ
âI wish.â you sigh, and he can no longer withhold his smile.
âIâm serious. Grab it. I asked the owner for permission.âÂ
Your head cranes slowly over to him, eyes so wide he swears he could have seen his reflection in them.
âAre you serious?â Your voice is soft, unsure, surprised, grateful. Youâre almost not sure whether to believe him or not, but when his gentle brown eyes look between you and the book, and he gives you a little encouraging nudge on your shoulder as a go ahead, you finally move to reach out slowly and pick it off of the shelf, cradling it in your hands as if it was a precious thing.Â
âThank you. You didnât have toââ
âI wanted to.â His voice is calm but sincere, and thereâs a small, almost thoughtful smile tugging at his lips as he watches you. The shelf youâd been looking at earlier, once so absorbing, now feels distant as your attention shifts entirely to him.
You blink, unsure how to respond, and for the first time in a while, you find yourself lost for words. âGosh, I-I donât⊠I donât even know what to say.â
âYou donât have to say anything.â He mutters with a crooked smile.
âThank you.â You repeat the words, quieter this time.
âAnytime.â He shrugs. For a moment, the two of you are caught in a quiet, comfortable pause.
Itâs only Joshua calling Seokminâs name from across the room that snaps the two of you back to reality. You blink and suddenly rememberâyouâre the one who owes him a coffee, not the other way around.
âWait, you ordered already?â
âI kinda had to.â Seokmin shrugs sheepishly, his eyes flicking over to the counter before returning to you. âHonestly, Iâm more scared of going over my break time while Seungkwan is there than when itâs just Ms. Boo.â
âThatâs your friend, right? Seungkwan?â you ask, tilting your head slightly.Â
âYep,â Seokmin replies. âThe one with the dyed blonde hair who always looks like heâs about to complain about something.â
âThatâs Ms. Booâs grandson, then.â You piece it together with a grin, and Seokmin hands you your drink. You take it but find your thoughts drifting again.
âWhatâs wrong?â Seokmin asks, noticing your distracted gaze.
âI still owe you,â you admit softly, looking down at the drink in your hands. âFor the bag and the book.â
Seokmin bumps your shoulder lightly, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. âI guess youâll just have to keep stopping by.âÂ
âI guess I will,âÂ
To his delight, the rest of Seokminâs shift was effortless and quick. There was the occasional bickering with Seungkwan, but thatâs nothing out of the ordinary. And, for some reason, he didnât seem to mind it as much today. Because, waiting for him at the bus stop when he arrived later that very same evening, was you, eager to tell him all about the book you had started reading.Â
Ë àŒâĄ âïœĄËÂ
Seokmin had never been a fan of routines. His personality was spontaneous, and so the things he did on a day-to-day basis were too. Up until now, the only constants in his life were the flower shop and his friends, who provided their own random spontaneity in the form of unpredictable weekend plans or an ever-changing work environment that depended solely on which side of the bed Seungkwan woke up on that morning.Â
Seokmin gets bored easily, an issue he resolves with movie marathons or long walks or hangoutsâjust about anything will suffice, if it means his mind is occupied and distracted the majority of the time.Â
Lately, though, a new element has been introduced to his daily life. A routine.Â
A routine where, during every shift, you stop by after your time studying at the library and pick him up for âcoffee timeâ during his breaks (much to Seungkwanâs disappointment, coffee time was usually during the first half of the day). Then, youâd stay at the coffee shop reading the bookâbecause despite Seokmin insisting that it was okay for you to take home, youâd always refuseâuntil his shift was over. Heâd find you at the bus stop, waiting for him, and the two of you would chatter on until you were dropped off at your stop.Â
In a way, he had become dependent on this routineâsomething he thought could never happen. It was admittedly his favorite part of the day, catching up with you, hearing what you had to say or what thoughts you had cultured after your time reading the book. And when you finished that one a few weeks in, he made sure to take some new potted plants and flowers over to Mr. Kim in exchange for another.Â
And for some time, thatâs the way things were. He had contemplated asking to do something with you outside of the usual bus or coffee shop pattern, but everytime he intended to ask, heâd cower and procrastinate. Next time, heâd tell himself.
Early on a Sunday morning, Seungkwan came into the shop rambling about how his Grandma was at his older sisterâs house and wouldnât be coming by. Itâs not like the two of them couldnât handle the shop aloneâthey had done it countless times beforeâbut her presence was primarily longed for when it came to getting the two of them back on track. Especially on Sundays, where the task at hand was to clean, fertilize, and redecorate wilted displays. For obvious reasons, this was something neither of them enjoyed doing.Â
At the moment, itâs just him in the store. Seungkwan was taking his morning break that he insisted was non-negotiable today and Seokmin only agreed so easily because Sundays are the only days he doesnât see you.Â
The doorbell jingles softly as you step into the flower shop, and Seokmin glances up from behind the counter looking for a customer or Seungkwan, his hands momentarily pausing in their careful arrangement of flowers. A surprised look crosses his face as you poke your head in.
âHey,â he says, his voice lifting with a bit of surprise, but the smile that quickly forms softens his expression. âI didnât think youâd stop by today.â
âActually, I only came by to see Ms. Boo,â you tease, and Seokmin hisses through his teeth.Â
âI regret to inform you, sheâs not in today.âÂ
You grin, stepping further into the shop, the familiar floral scent filling the air around you. âIâm kidding. I was nearby and I thought Iâd keep you company for a bit.â
âItâs not usually this quiet around here,â he says, his hands brushing against the flowers almost absently as he talks. âItâs kind of nice when itâs just me, but I guess I donât mind the company.â He rolls his eyes, but itâs easy to see right through him when heâs so clearly beaming that you're here.
Your presence, standing so casually by the counter, feels like something he didnât know he was waiting for. Heâs used to the steady hum of the shop, the quiet buzz of the day, the mildly irritating sounds of Seungkwan, but with you here... itâs different. He canât quite pinpoint why, but thereâs a feeling in his chest that settles somewhere between contentment and something else heâs been trying to ignore for a while now.
Before he can dwell too much on it, the door jingles again, and Seungkwan strides in, looking as effortless as ever. His eyes dart between you and Seokmin, already catching the shift in the air.Â
âWhy, hello,â Seungkwan says, grinning widely as he crosses the shop and leans against the counter. âI was wondering when weâd be properly introduced.â
âYou must be Seungkwan,â you say, arching an eyebrow at Seokmin, who rolls his eyes in mock exasperation.
âAnd you must be Y/N. It seems like I took my break right on time.â Seungkwan continues, throwing an exaggerated glance at Seokmin. âHe canât shut up about you.â
Seokmin groans as he shifts uncomfortably behind the counter. âSeungkwan, please. You donât have to make it sound so weird.â
You smile at the light teasing, the way Seungkwanâs attention naturally shifts to Seokmin with that familiar comfort only best friends seem to have. Itâs clear theyâve known each other for a while. Seokmin, though, is less than amused by Seungkwan. His cheeks glow pink as he glares.
âWell, you are weird,â Seungkwan mutters.
âAlright, Seungkwan,â Seokmin says with a sigh.Â
âOkay, Iâm off to the back to unload fertilizer.â He announces and you give him a polite wave as he turns to you, âIt was nice to meet you.â
As Seungkwan heads out the back door, Seokmin lets out a quiet breath, shaking his head. The shop feels quieter, now that it's just you and him. Itâs strange, but Seokmin finds himself oddly aware of the space between you two.
He glances over at you again, trying not to seem too obvious, but thereâs something about the way youâre standing thereâeasy, comfortable, but somehow still pulling at him in a way he canât ignore. His fingers hesitate over the vase in front of him, caught in the motion of arranging flowers but not quite focused on the task.
âSo,â you say, breaking the silence. âI guess you get to work in peace for now, huh?â
âYeah, it seems that way.â Seokmin huffs. He takes a step toward you, to reach for something behind you. His hand brushes over a batch of roses, then pausing as if heâs suddenly unsure of the next move, painfully aware of how close heâs gotten. He clears his throat, the casual tone of his voice not quite matching the thoughts swirling in his mind. âSo, um... you like flowers?â
You tilt your head, a teasing smile on your lips. âIs that a serious question?â
âI-â Seokmin laughs softly, his fingers running over the petals of the flowers before grabbing them and attempting to focus on his station.Â
You lean a little closer, your voice light but playful. âWell, I like you, donât I?â The way you say those words with a teasing tone makes Seokmin nearly choke, âSo I kind of have to like flowers. Otherwise, how am I meant to hang around you?â You gesture at the shop.Â
Seokminâs breath catches, and for a moment, he feels like heâs losing the thread of the conversation.
"I didnât expect to find you working today. I didnât even know the shop opened on Sundays," you say casually, glancing up at him. âIâm sure the flowers appreciate the extra attention.â
"Iâm pretty good with the flowers, but I think theyâd appreciate the company more if you came by more often."
You arch an eyebrow, âOh? You think theyâd enjoy my company more than yours?â
âI know Seungkwan would.â You laugh at this, and Seokmin revels in the sound, joining you.Â
After a pause, he shifts his attention back to the flowers, showing you the final product. âWhat do you think?âÂ
âTheyâre pretty.âÂ
âI think so, too.â He decides, not necessarily talking about the flowers, âEven though I was a little distracted.â
"Distractions can be good, though,"
"Well, youâre a pretty good distraction," he tries for the words to sound casual, but his tone betrays him. He also said it much quicker than he intended to, and heâs grateful for the chance to turn around while grabbing another pot because it offers him a means to hide his reddening cheeks.Â
You let the words hang in the air for a beat longer than usual, enjoying the teasing, the way it feels easy between you two. "Good to know," you reply, smirking.
Before Seokmin can respond, the door swings open and Seungkwan walks in again, wiping his hands on his apron and immediately launching into his usual dramatic self.Â
"I swear, Iâll never get used to that fertilizer smell," he complains, tossing his apron on a hook. He looks over at you and Seokmin, "Glad to know you two havenât burned the place down."
You grin, "Not yet, but weâre working on it."
Seungkwan scoffs half-heartedly, glancing between you. "Nice to see him finally making some friends outside of the plants."
As Seungkwan heads toward the back, he gives you both a knowing look. âDonât let him get too distracted, alright?â he calls over his shoulder with a grin.
âIâll try my best.â You give Seokmin a wink and he shakes his head, showing you an idea for another potential bouquet.
The last hour passes seamlessly fast, now that youâre here. Before Seokmin knows it, you, him, and Seungkwan are locking up the store and parting ways from the blonde as the two of you walk side by side to the bus stop.Â
As he sits beside you on the bus later that night, looking over your shoulder at your collection of tapes for your walkman, he wrestles with the invitation that sits in the forefront of his mind. Spending time with you at the shop was great, but it somehow still feels like it follows your usual pattern. That, and Seungkwanâs presence, albeit lively and entertaining, keeps him from being able to spend as much time as heâd like with youâwithout the time constriction of a fifteen minute break or a forty minute bus ride. But like always, he decides to ask a different question in place of the one he really wants to.Â
âHow come you use a walkman? I always meant to ask you.âÂ
âI like the way the music sounds on it. I donât know. It was my dadâs.â You smile warmly, âHe used to let me borrow it when I was younger and I just kind of⊠inherited it.âÂ
âItâs cool. Makes you look all mysterious. Like youâre from a different time.âÂ
âYou think?â He nods fervently, but your shoulders still sink in doubt as you fumble with the multicolored tapes. âEverything sounds nicer on it. When you listen to music on it, itâs like a mini time-machine. Or, it might just be me, I donât know.âÂ
âIâm sure itâs not just you. Here, let me try. Pick one for me.âÂ
The corners of your mouth twitch upwards for a second as you ponder which song to play. Delicately, your fingers brush over each tape, hovering in thought like they had with the books on Mr. Kimâs shelf, until you finally land on one. Â
âItâs my favorite.â You tell him shyly, âI think youâll like it.â
Carefully, you pull the cassette out of its case and click it into the audio player with a low snap. Seokmin watches as your hands slip the headset off from around your neck, watching as you shift in your seat and place them gently over his head. He tries not to think about how close your face is to his but⊠how can he not? Youâve leaned in to ensure that both spongy cushions are perfectly sat over his ears, and now youâre only a few inches awayâclose enough that he can catch the faint scent of your shampoo. It lingers, soft and floral, wrapping around him like the embrace of something he hadnât realized heâd miss until you finally sat back, asking âready?âÂ
You press down on the play button and look up at him, eyes full of expectation.
Thereâs that familiar, comforting crackle of the cassette winding into motion, a sound that makes Seokmin feel as if heâs in an old-timey dream. And then, the music starts: your songâyour favorite songâsomething you had chosen specifically for him to hear. Every note feels warm, intimate, melodic. For some reason, it temporarily diminishes his burning curiosity about you, but not because he finds himself any less intrigued, but because it finally feels like heâs taken a real peek inside your mind.
As someone who loves music, Seokmin is a firm believer that a personâs favorite song says a lot about them. The more it plays, the more he realizes that this song, in every sense of the word, is an extension of you.Â
As the melody flows, you watch him, eyes studying his reaction with that same teasing smile. You lean closer again, and he subconsciously holds his breath as you whisper, âDo you hear it?â He nods.
Thereâs a warmth in it, a rawness that makes it feel like more than just music. This was something deeply yours, a piece of your world that you were letting him in on, if only for a few minutes.
He listens with his eyes closed, letting himself drift along the rhythm, feeling the weight of each tone and key change and lyric the artist sings, full of intention. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds you still looking at him with a kind of question in your gaze, a quiet hope. The song fades out, but Seokmin keeps the headphones on for a second longer, letting the last notes dissolve into silence. He looks up again, meeting your gaze.Â
For a moment, heâs not sure what to say. Anything he could say feels too small, too plain for what he wants you to understand. So he starts with the only words that come out easily, his voice low and sincere. âI⊠I think I get it.â He pauses, then adds, âAnd this song⊠it feels like you.â
Your eyebrows lift slightly, a playful gleam in your eyes. âWhat do you mean?â you ask, though thereâs a softness in your tone, like youâre hoping heâll really answer.
He glances down at the walkman, watching your thumb tracing along the edge as he gathers his thoughts. âI donât know. Itâs just⊠this song is so warm. Itâs like the way you laugh, the way you make everything feel a little bit lighter.â He feels his cheeks warm but keeps going, his words coming out before he can second-guess them. âItâs like a piece of you, and I can feel it, even with my eyes closed.â
You go still, your expression shifting, the playful smile that played on your lips softening into something more serious. Neither of you say anything for a moment.
The bus begins to slow, and you both glance out the window, realizing this is your stop. You reach up, fingers brushing his ear as you gently pull the headphones from him, careful not to disturb the sense of closeness still hanging in the air. You slide the walkman back into your bag, a little slower than necessary, as if that might make the night last, if just for a few seconds longer.
âThis is me,â you say softly, feeling the finality in the words as the bus comes to a gentle stop and the doors sigh open. You start to stand but pause, glancing down at him one last time. Thereâs something unreadable in his gaze, as if heâs searching for the right thing to say, something more than just âgoodbye.âÂ
âIâll see you tomorrow?â you ask, your voice soft, almost hopeful.
He nods, his smile widening just a little. âYeah,â he says, gentle but certain. âTomorrow.â Youâre about to turn around when he adds, âbut not here. I want to go somewhere else with you. I mean, if you want to, that is.â He finds his breath catching again, âThe flower shop closes early on the weekends. I was thinking... Maybe we could go to the beach?â
With a grin playing on your lips, you nod, âYeah. Iâd like that.âÂ
Giving him one last glance, you turn and step off the bus, feeling the warmth of his gaze linger behind as you walk down the street. As the bus pulls away, you catch his face framed in the window, waving until youâre out of sight. And though the music has stopped, the tune of this moment plays on, promising something to carry with you both until tomorrow.Â
Ë àŒâĄ âïœĄËÂ
The sky stretches out in a hazy blue as Seokmin walks toward the beach, his guitar case slung over his shoulder. His fingers tap a nervous rhythm against its side as he looks around, hoping to spot you before you see him.
He barely slept the night before, having spent the better part of the morning hours contemplating and talking to himself with his guitar on his lap. It hadnât been touched in nearly a year and a half, so he had to spend some time wiping it down, re-tuning it, and even fixing a string that had managed to come loose in the process.
He said heâd play for you, but then again, he hadnât played for someone in a while and naturally, that made him extremely nervous, though that feeling didnât even fully capture what he felt when he remembered heâd be playing for you. What would you think? Did you actually mean it when you said you wanted to hear him play? Or was that some automated response to boost his spirits? Would you even remember? It was weeks ago, on the first day at the coffee shop. Needless to say, he mulled over it endlessly.
Seokmin sighs, trying to calm himself down. By now, he had to slip off his shoes that were sinking in the cool sand, so he chooses to focus on the sensation of it against his skin instead of overthinking any longer.Â
He finally spots you standing by the water, arms wrapped around yourself as a light breeze blows through your hair. When you turn and see him, your face brightens, and that smile of yoursâbright and openâfills him with warmth instantly. âIs thatââ you begin, your eyes widening as you notice the guitar.
âThought it was time,â he says, shrugging like itâs no big deal despite his heart thundering as he sets the guitar down and dusts off a spot in the sand beside you. You sit next to him eagerly, your excitement spilling out in the way you lean closer, eyes sweeping between him and the guitar case, as if youâre finally being let in on a long-held secret. And, in a way, you are.Â
He stretches his legs out, digging his heels into the cool sand. He watches you rummage through the tote bag beside you, and a curious smile tugs at his lips.
âYou came prepared,â he chuckles, watching as you pull out a couple of neatly wrapped sandwiches and a small container of fruit.
âOf course I did,â you say with a smile, offering him a sandwich and holding out the fruit container. âI figured weâd get hungry eventually.â You shrug, glancing out toward the waves. âBesides, I thought it would be nice to have a little picnic.â
Seokmin accepts the sandwich with a grin, unwrapping it and taking a bite. Heâs pleasantly surprised by the fresh crunch of lettuce and the perfect balance of flavors. âDid you make these?â he asks between bites, raising an eyebrow.
You nod, a bit of pride flashing in your eyes. âI did. You think Iâd risk buying store-bought for a beach day?â
âTouchĂ©,â he laughs, grabbing a few grapes from the fruit container youâve placed between you. âHonestly, this is already ten times better than what I packed.â He gestures vaguely to a plastic bottle and an uninspired granola bar that now seem almost laughable compared to your carefully prepared spread.
The sun has settled lower in the sky, casting the beach in a soft, golden haze. Seokmin leans back, resting his hands behind him as he glances over at you, a lazy grin playing at the corners of his mouth. The two of you have polished off the sandwiches, and now the empty wrappers lie folded beside the fruit container. He pops one last grape into his mouth, savoring the refreshing sweetness as he watches you tuck the food away with a little, satisfied sigh.
âSo, did I earn any points for bringing the snacks?â you tease, dusting a few crumbs from your hands before looking over at him expectantly.
Seokmin laughs, squinting a little in the sunlight as he tilts his head, pretending to think it over. âHmm⊠Iâll give you extra points for the sandwiches. But for the fruit,â he says, grabbing a couple of the last grapes with a mischievous smile, âI think youâll need to try a little harder.â
âOh, please,â you scoff, leaning back beside him. âYouâre just mad you didnât think to bring anything.â
âMaybe,â he admits, laughing as he looks out at the waves. âBut next time, Iâll bring something better.â
âAlright, big shot,â you say with a smirk, crossing your arms. âWhatâs on the menu then? A charcuterie board?â
âDefinitely,â he says, nodding with exaggerated seriousness. âMaybe even some tiny, fancy desserts, the ones that look way too pretty to eat.â
âSounds like youâre trying to impress someone.â You raise an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air just long enough that Seokmin canât miss the playful edge in your tone. Not like he could have missed it anyway, with the way he hangs on your every word.Â
He laughs again, but thereâs a slight flush to his cheeks. âHey, Iâm just saying I know how to put together a memorable picnic,â he says, attempting a casual shrug. âBut, you know, only if youâre there to witness it.â
You grin, unable to help the smile that breaks through at his subtle, almost shy attempt at flirting. âIâd hate to miss such an extravagant spread,â you reply, matching his casual tone with your own. âGuess youâll have to invite me.â
Seokmin pretends to think it over, tapping his chin. âHmm, alright, youâre in. But no backing out,â he says, his smile widening. âIâm holding you to this.â
Thereâs an ease between you, a lightness in the conversation that feels effortless, and for a while, the two of you just sit there, chatting about nothing and everything. He asks you about your favorite places to visit and listens as you share stories about the other hobbies you have. In return, you ask how he met Seungkwan, and he tells you about him and Soonyoung, recounting each memory he has made with them with an enthusiasm that makes you feel like you were right there with him.
Then, as the conversation dips, he glances down at the guitar case beside him. He reaches for it almost absentmindedly, brushing his fingers along the edge of the case, but thereâs a faint look of hesitation in his eyes that you donât miss.
âYou donât have to, even if you brought it all the way out here. Itâs up to you.âÂ
Seokmin lets out a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he glances away. Heâs more grateful for your patience than you could ever know.Â
 âYeah⊠I havenât really played in a while,â he admits, his voice dropping slightly. âItâs been over two years, actually. I brought it⊠Well, because I think itâs about time I get back into the habit.â He trails off, watching the waves again, his mind flickering to a different time, a different place, one heâs not sure heâs ready to revisit.
Thereâs a quiet understanding in your eyes as you nod. You donât press him, donât ask for more details. Instead, you just let the silence stretch out between you, the sound of the ocean filling the space where words might have gone. Itâs almost as if youâre giving him permission to take his time, to decide for himself if this is something he wants to do.
After a moment, he takes a breath, exhaling slowly. âI used to play a lot, actually,â he says, almost to himself. âJust⊠havenât felt like it in a while.â
The air feels thick with unspoken things, but Seokmin pushes past it, fingers brushing the guitar case almost impulsively. The weight of the past lingers for a second, but with a quick glance at you, he lets go of the hesitation clinging to him. This is different, he reminds himself. This isnât for anyone else, no memories he needs to cling to. Just the open beach, the sun dipping low, and you, waiting beside him with a patient, easy smile.
He pulls the guitar from its case, its weight grounding him, though it feels different today than it had last night. Itâs less scary, now that heâs with you.Â
He glances over at you, a grin tugging at his lips. âReady?â he asks. You nod, your eyes wide, leaning just close enough for him to catch the faint, floral hint of you drifting in the salt-laced air.
Seokmin strums the first couple of notes, letting the music rise and blend with the gentle crash of the waves. His fingers move on instinct, but his mind is all on you, capturing every little reactionâthe way your eyes soften, the way your shoulders relax, reassuring him that his music is something youâve been waiting to hear. Heâs suddenly very relieved.
âI wrote this a few years back. Itâs⊠Well, yeah. I think the lyrics speak for themselves.âÂ
It takes a few seconds and one or two badly played chords for him to regain a little bit of the confidence he had lost some time ago. But his fingers find their place quickly enough, and he parts his lips to sing.Â
As Seokmin's voice fills the space between you, soft and hesitant at first, he notices the subtle shift in your expression. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, brows lifting in quiet surprise as if you hadnât really expected him to sing so well. Thereâs a moment of stillness, only filled with his voice, warm and unpolished, floating in the air.
Your gaze flickers to and from him, watching the way his lips move to form each syllable, and then back to the water, where the waves blur in a streak of light. You canât help but notice the way his face softens when he sings, his features loosening as he melts into the words.Â
You look back at him, your lips parting in surprise. Thereâs a shy kind of amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth, like you're unsure if itâs okay to smile just yet, but the quiet joy you feel is evident in the warmth that floods your chest. You tilt your head slightly, caught between admiration and a soft, disbelieving smile.
I shouldâve told you Iâm in love with you
Then I wouldnât have been regretting right now
The longer you listen, the more the words heâs written seem bound to him, something like an itch he couldnât reach. You find your lips curving upward again, but thereâs a sad sentiment behind your smile this time, eyes full with a kind of quiet affection. Something tugs at your heart just then, causing your brows to furrow slightly. Maybe itâs from the lyrics he wrote, or maybe itâs the simple, unguarded way he sings, youâre not entirely sure.
When he looks up, your gaze meets his, soft and steady. You donât speak when he finishes. Instead, you reach over, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers as light as the spring breeze.
âThank you,â you whisper, and in that moment, Seokmin realizes he doesnât need to say anything at all.
You sit back, letting the sound of the water fill the space between you, the silence stretching just long enough for Seokmin to look out at the horizon, his fingers still idly plucking at the strings of his guitar. His expression has changed slightly, distant, like he's somewhere else for a moment, lost in thought.
You turn toward him, studying his profile. âWhy donât you play anymore?â you ask softly, not wanting to break the calm vulnerability of the moment, but still unable to ignore the quiet curiosity rising inside you. âI mean, youâre really good. Why keep it to yourself?â
He freezes for a second, his mindless strumming halting abruptly. He exhales, the sound almost like a sigh.
âI used to,â he begins to explain. His voice is quiet, almost like heâs talking to himself. âBack when I had someone to play for. It didnât work out.â He swallows thickly. âShe⊠She had been hooking up with her best friend practically since we got together.âÂ
You wait, letting him speak, but his lips press together for a moment, unsure if he should say more. His gaze turns toward the ocean, but thereâs a shift in his eyes, which are normally so kind and full of spiritâsomething like a hard edge, as if a memory he had thought of has sharpened into something more painful. âI played for her all the time.â
You canât hide the surprise that flashes in your eyes, and Seokmin glances at you. He doesnât want pity. Heâs not asking for it.
âI stopped playing after that,â he continues, âIt just... didnât feel the same anymore. It was something I gave to someone who didnât deserve it.â He shrugs, as if the words are too heavy for him to carry all at once.
You can feel the hurt in the air, hanging around him like a shadow. You want to reach out, but you donât know how to offer comfort without crossing a line, so you just sit still beside him, close enough that he can feel your presence but far enough to give him space.
And at the time, you didnât know it, but for him, it was enough.Â
After a long pause, you finally say, âIâm sorry. Thatâs... thatâs a lot.â
He nods, and the tightness in his jaw softens slightly. âYeah,â he says, his voice a little steadier. âBut... maybe itâs okay.â Seokminâs eyes flicker to you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. âToday felt right, you know. Playing for someone whoâs actually listening.â
And in the quiet that follows, he feels something shift between you, the weight of unspoken things starting to lift.
âSeokmin,â you say, your voice gentle, as if careful not to disrupt the quiet peace heâs settled into. He can tell youâre about to say something, maybe offer some comforting words about his story, but heâs already lost in thought.
It hits him, then, so suddenly it almost makes him laugh at himself. The way the late afternoon light catches in your hair, the soft curve of your smile, the way youâre watching him with that steady, thoughtful gaze. Itâs all so striking that it feels like something heâs never noticed before, and yet it feels so familiar at the same time.
He decides then, that this is the prettiest youâve ever looked.Â
Suddenly convinced you might be able to read his mind, he clears his throat, feeling a warmth creeping up his neck as he looks back down at the guitar, trying to hide the smile thatâs fighting its way to his face. He wants to say itâwants to tell you that you look beautiful, that sitting here with you feels like some kind of dream he didnât know he was allowed to have. But the words donât come out; they sit, caught in his throat, trapped by the sudden nervousness thatâs settled over him.
Instead, he finds himself brushing a hand over the guitar strings again, as if that small action might keep him grounded. âThanks⊠for listening,â he manages, hoping itâll distract from the fact that he can feel his cheeks warming.
You smile, nodding gently, still looking at him in that quiet, understanding way, and it only makes him want to blurt it out more. But for now, he lets the moment stretch, watching as you lean back in the sand, your gaze shifting back to the waves. The sun is sinking lower, and everything is bathed in that soft, warm light that makes the world feel as if itâs been suspended in time. And Seokmin realizes, right then and there, that this is one of those good memories heâll hold on to; one he doesnât intend to forget any time soon.Â
Ë àŒâĄ âïœĄËÂ
It starts with a simple conversation over coffee, the two of you tucked into a cozy corner booth at the cafe, each with a steaming cup in hand as usual. It has become the norm, seeing you like this, nearly every morning and evening. Seokmin stirs a bit more sugar into his drink despite the crazed look you give him, then glances up at you with a warm, toothy smile as you tell him about your latest read. He leans in, listening intently, nodding as if every word you say is the most fascinating thing heâs heard all week.Â
When you pause, taking a sip of your drink, he takes a chance to jump in, âYou know, Iâve been meaning to go to the art museum downtown. Itâs supposed to have this new exhibit.â He hesitates, looking down at his cup for a moment, then back at you with a shy, hopeful glint in his eyes. âIf⊠youâd want to check it out with me?â
You perk up at the suggestion, grinning. âIâd love that! Museums are kind of my weakness.â
Relieved, he chuckles, âThen weâre in good company,â he says, the words coming out a little softer than he intends. He clears his throat, trying to play it cool, but his heart beats a little faster as you chuckle.
âAlright, Mr. Museum,â you say, teasing. âIâm ready whenever you are.â
âGreat,â he replies, glancing out the window at the overcast sky. âHow about today, then?â
With a nod, you grab your things, sliding out of the booth as Seokmin hurriedly follows, waving goodbye to Joshua. As you both step out onto the sidewalk, he canât help the familiar rush of excitement at the thought of spending the rest of the day with you. The two of you stroll side by side down the bustling street, exchanging small talk and the occasional smile, his heart lifting with every step closer to the city.
The walk to the museum is a mixture of laughter, subtle glances, and playful nudges that neither of you can seem to resist. The air is crisp, a light breeze tugging at your sleeves as the two of you meander down the busy street, dodging the occasional cyclist or dog walker. Every few steps, one of you makes a half-serious commentâmaybe about the art youâre about to see, maybe about the bizarre mannequin display in a shop window you passâand it doesnât take long before both of you dissolve into laughter, your steps momentarily slowed as you lean into each other, trying to catch your breath.
Seokmin, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, finds himself glancing your way more often than heâd like to admit, watching as you tuck your hair behind your ear or lift your face to the sky for a second, enjoying the clouds. He doesnât know why he feels like a kid right now, heart skipping with each shared smile and laugh, but he canât seem to shake it. The closeness of walking side by side with you makes him almost giddy.
At one point, you nudge him with your elbow, a light-hearted challenge in your eyes as you try to keep a straight face. âSo,â you say, feigning seriousness, âready to become cultured?â
He rolls his eyes, laughing as he nudges you right back. âPlease.â
Seokmin steps into the museum lobby with you by his side, wandering across the high ceilings and polished floors. Thereâs almost a sacred quietness to the place, the kind that makes every sound seem amplified, even the shuffle of your footsteps.Â
You hand him a ticket that you get from the booth, brushing his hand lightly, and he tries to hide his smile, hoping you donât notice the faint flush that blooms in his cheeks. He doesnât know why heâs nervous; he always is around you, but he never knows why. Somehow today, heâs more nervous than other days. Maybe itâs the atmosphere, or maybe itâs just youâstanding there beside him, glancing around with the same sort of wide-eyed curiosity that makes him want to see everything through your eyes.
The two of you wander through the galleries, pausing in front of each painting and sculpture, taking your time. Every so often, you glance at him to see his reaction to something particularly strange or fascinating, and catch him already looking back, smiling at your expressions just as much as he is admiring the art.
âDo you think they meant to paint it like this?â you ask, leaning closer to a particularly loud modern piece thatâs all bright, chaotic lines. Your voice is soft, as though youâre afraid of disturbing the tranquility.
Seokmin leans closer, squinting as if trying to unravel some secret meaning, though he hasnât a clue what heâs looking at. âMaybe they were just⊠feeling inspired,â he replies, lips quirking with a grin he canât suppress.
âOr maybe they dropped their paintbrush,â you add, matching his grin.
The sound of your laughter echoes slightly in the otherwise silent gallery, and for a moment, heâs aware of how close youâre standing. The space feels smaller, and though there are other visitors around, it feels for a moment like the museum is yours alone. You move on to the next painting, your eyes bright with curiosity, and he follows, longing to shorten the distance once more.Â
He notices a stray piece of hair thatâs slipped from behind your ear, and without thinking, he lifts a hand to tuck it back. But at the last second, he hesitates, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder as he pulls his hand back, a shy red spreading over his complexion. You donât seem to notice, lost in thought as you step closer to the next painting, tilting your head to take it all in.
At one point, you point out a painting of a starry sky, something dreamlike. âImagine being under a sky like that,â you murmur, almost to yourself, your gaze soft and wondrous as you look at the canvas.
More and more often throughout the visit to the museum, Seokmin finds himself staring at you instead of the exhibits. On this specific one, he canât seem to look away from your face, your expression so captivated, as if youâre somewhere far away.
âMaybe one day we can find a place like that,â he says softly, almost not meaning to say it aloud. When you turn to look at him, a bit surprised, he clears his throat, pretending to be suddenly very interested in reading the placard beside the artwork.
Seokmin finds himself feeling almost weightless, caught up in the dizzying whirlwind of his own thoughts for a minute. Thereâs something about youâsomething he canât quite put a name toâthat makes him feel like heâs constantly walking on a tightrope, and with each step, heâs leaning a little further in, a step closer to letting go of the balance heâs tried for so long to keep.
You whisper an eager âcome on,â and grab his sleeve to drag him further into the maze of galleries.Â
As you wander into a room filled with ancient statues, he catches you examining one with a particularly serious expression. âThinking of getting one of these for your place?â he teases.Â
You laugh, rolling your eyes. âOnly if you help me carry it,â you reply, and he finds himself grinning again.
Soon, you reach a new room, filled with work from the Renaissance, each painting rich with detail and vibrant colors that have held their vibrancy for centuries. You lean in slightly, admiring the delicate brushstrokes, and Seokmin watches you, his gaze drifting from the artwork to the fascinated look in your eyesâpossibly for the hundredth time today.Â
âI feel like Iâm supposed to be having some deep, life-changing revelation right now,â he whispers by your ear, half-joking.
âWho says art has to be that serious? Sometimes, itâs just⊠pretty.â
Youâre just pretty.Â
As you move through the quiet museum halls together, Seokmin catches himself watching you again, realizing just how pretty you look in the warm glow of the exhibit lights. Itâs not the first time he's felt this way; he remembers the flutter in his chest when youâd gone to the beach, and the way his thoughts had lingered a little too long on the curve of your smile. He watches as you lean a bit closer to a painting, eyes narrowing in focus, oblivious to his gaze. Thereâs a calmness to you here, the way you examine each piece as if it holds a secret, and he finds himself drawn to the little things: the way your fingers rest on your chin in thought, the faint lift of your brows when something catches your eye, and the gentle concentration in your expression.
He watches you for longer this time, taking advantage of the fact that youâve busied yourself reading a plaque, and noticing things he hadnât paid attention to before right now: today, your smiles linger a little longer, your laughter rings out just a bit brighter, and he finds himself captivated by these subtleties, like he's uncovering new pieces of you with each glance. When you look at him, eyes crinkling in a way he hadnât dared imagine was just for him, his heart stirs, and he canât shake the thought: Have you always been this lovely, or am I just starting to see it now?Â
His mind drifts, painting scenes of possibilitiesâfleeting, half-formed images of laughter, of late nights talking, of small moments shared just between the two of you. Each image feels almost real, so vivid he can practically reach out and touch it.
Thereâs a spark in his chest, a sensation thatâs both exhilarating and terrifying. Part of him wants to pull back, to reel himself in, a quiet warning in the back of his mind whispering not to get carried away like he had before. But he canât help it; thereâs something magnetic about this, about you, something that pulls him closer despite himself.Â
He steals another glance at you, his heart racing as he does. Youâre just looking at the art around you, as though this is any other day, but for him, it feels monumental. His thoughts get lost again, imagining what it might be like to hold your hand right now, to simply be beside you without any of this hesitation.
And then, you look at him and laugh, catching him staring, and his ears go red, a little embarrassed but somehow happy to be caught.
By the time you reach the last hall of artwork, the sun has started to set outside, casting a warm glow through the large windows. Seokmin watches as the light catches in your eyes, making them shine in a way that leaves him a little breathless. Thereâs a comfortable silence between you as you look around.
As you both step outside into the cool evening air, he catches your eye, intentionally this time, his smile small but genuine. âThanks for coming here with me,â he says, his voice soft, almost shy.
âAnytime,â you reply, and the word feels like a promise.Â
Ë àŒâĄ âïœĄËÂ
The night starts with laughter and neon lights as Seokmin leads you through the bustling street to the karaoke room, his two friends, Seungkwan and Soonyoung, trailing just behind and rambling on about something indiscernible. The place is lively, bursting with music from rooms down the hall, each one echoing snippets of songs and off-key shouts.Â
Seokmin canât help but beam when he sees how easily you fall into conversation with his friends, joining in their jokes and even taking a dig at Seungkwan when he hypes himself up as the âtrue vocal talentâ of the group. Having heard Seokmin sing just a few weeks back, you couldnât help but feel defensive on his behalf.Â
Once everyoneâs settled, drinks start flowing freely. The first few songs are cautious, each of you easing into the familiar, buzzing rhythm of karaoke night. But as the night goes on, any sense of shyness melts away in the glow of pulsing lights and laughter.
Seokmin watches with undeniable fondness as you and Seungkwan bicker over song selections, and he tries not to grin too widely when he catches you belting out the lyrics with Soonyoung during a duet.Â
At some point, he notices how naturally you fit with his friendsâthe way you make Seungkwan laugh with a remark about his questionable song choices, or how you nod along enthusiastically as Soonyoung gives a dramatic toast, proclaiming you as âone of them now.â For Seokmin, itâs everything he hadnât realized he wanted: his closest friends getting along with you.
As the night hums along, Seokmin picks up the microphone, sending you a lopsided, slightly tipsy smile that makes your heart flutter before selecting a song. His choice surprises youâitâs one of those classic ballads thatâs probably too high for anyone but the original singer to sing. The melody starts slow, and his voice flows soft and easy, but with a control that reminds you just how talented he really is. You practically feel your admiration soar, and as you watch him, his hazy, glossed over eyes settle on you.Â
Every so often, he adds a bit of exaggerated flair, trying to coax a laugh out of you, playfully stretching out the notes or adding dramatic hand gestures to match the lyrics. Itâs impossible not to smile, and you feel yourself relax as his antics draw you in. The song suddenly feels a little less serious, a little more fun, as he throws in a wink here, a knowing grin there.
As he finishes, you clap, unable to hide your smile. "You know," you say, a little breathless, "itâs honestly unfair that youâre this good."
He laughs, cheeks pink from both the praise and the drinks. âWhat can I say? Talent just comes naturally,â he jokes, a little bolder, that playful gleam returning to his eyes. Then he looks at you, his expression softening. âHow about we do one together?â
âOh no,â you protest with a laugh, shaking your head, âI canât follow that.â
âCome on,â he coaxes, handing you a microphone and grabbing you by your hand to pull you to your feet, âIâll sing the verses, you can handle the chorus. It'll be easy.â
With a mix of reluctance and excitement, both of which mix together with the alcohol in your system, you take the mic, scrolling through songs until you settle on something you both knowâThe music starts, and the two of you exchange a grin before starting.
At first, you both sing a little awkwardly, tipsy laughter interrupting every other line as you stumble over the lyrics and try not to trip over each otherâs parts. But as the song goes on, you find a rhythm, and every so often, Seokmin leans into the mic to harmonize with you, his voice blending with yours. By the end, youâre both laughing, the microphones forgotten as you clutch your sides and stumble around, out of breath and giddy.
Seokmin looks at you, eyes bright, face flushed, smile so wide that you could count his teeth if you wanted to. He reaches out, touching your hand ever so lightly, his fingers warm and steady. âYou did amazing,â he says, voice soft, his smile a little shy despite everything.
âLikewise,â you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you thatâs more than just the drinks. And as you both sit there, you realize that thereâs other people in the room.Â
Before you even have time to catch your breath, Soonyoung jumps up, grabbing the microphone. âMove over!â he declares with a grin, completely ignoring the indignant look Seungkwan shoots at him as he stands up to join him. âItâs duet time for real now.â
Seungkwan, rolling his eyes, snatches the other mic and leans in with a smirk. âPrepare yourselves. You two are about to be outshined.â He cues up a song with exaggerated flair, and the upbeat tune starts, loud and impossible to take seriously as they start belting the opening lines completely off-time.
âTheyâre usually better than this,â Seokmin tells you, âespecially Seungkwan. I think itâs the alcohol.âÂ
You laugh as you watch the pair start to coordinate with each other, finally managing to sing to the beat of the song.Â
âItâs good!â You argue, âAre you all just super talented?âÂ
Seungkwanâs voice suddenly cuts through, loudly. âHey! I canât hear myself over you two!â He shoots you both a look, his mock glare breaking into a grin as Soonyoung pulls him back to belt out the chorus.
Seokmin shakes his head, laughing as he leans in closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours. âI warned you about them, didnât I?â he says, his voice soft, heâs close enough that you feel his breath beside you, gaze lingering as he speaks. Heâs a little past the point of tipsy, cheeks and nose slightly flushed, but somehow the hazy glow of the karaoke lights makes him look even softer, easier to smile at.
You giggle, feeling a little light-headed yourself, but whether itâs from the drinks or the warmth radiating between the two of you, youâre not entirely sure. Your eyes subconsciously bat at him as they trace his features, tugging at his heartstrings as Soonyoung and Seungkwan sing with wild abandon in the background.
Seokminâs arm rests casually on the back of the booth behind you. âYou know,â he murmurs, leaning just a bit closer, âIâm glad youâre here.â
The words are simple, but somehow they send a warmth spreading through you, making the whole room seem to slow down. âMe too,â you say, a little shy but meeting his gaze, feeling that same unspoken something settle around you.
Then, somewhere between another toast and Soonyoungâs next drink, things start to get a little fuzzy for him. Soonyoung has, predictably, taken things a bit too far, eyes glazed as he sways to the music, occasionally belting out lyrics that donât match the song on screen. Seungkwan sighs knowingly, standing and giving Seokmin a helpless shrug. âIâm taking him home before he tries to start chugging Soju.â He nods at you, adding with a smirk, âGood luck with this one.â And then, with a wave, theyâre gone, leaving the two of you in the dimly lit room, half-empty drinks scattered on the table.
Alone with you now, Seokminâs pulse races, the soft glow of tipsiness making him feel both bold and nervous. The room feels quieter, somehow more intimate, with just the two of you here. He reaches for the remote, scrolling through song choices, trying to keep his eyes on the screen and not on the way youâre leaning back on the couch, your gaze drifting over to him with a glint he canât quite decipher.
âDo you want to pick the last one?â he asks, his voice a little more shy than he intended.
You smile, shrugging casually, but he doesnât miss the hint of a blush on your cheeks. âOnly if you promise not to laugh if I butcher it.â
He grins, feeling his own face warm. âI make no promises,â he teases. But thereâs something in his gazeâa hint of anticipation that he canât quite hide, even if he tries.
As you start singing, he watches, captivated by the way you let loose, tipsy confidence making you bolder. The words are a little off-key, your voice rising and falling with the tempo, but to him, itâs perfect. When youâre finished, he canât help but clap, cheering as if heâs at a concert.
âYou sounded amazing,â he says, his voice softer than the playful bravado heâd intended. He feels a little too exposed under your gaze, a little too aware of just how close youâre sitting.Â
âThank you, thank you,â you reply with an exaggerated bow, but your eyes linger on his a little longer than they should, and the tension between you feels thick, heavy with possibility.Â
He clears his throat, laughing nervously. âYouâre going to put me out of a job with that voice.â But his words sound almost sincere.
Thereâs a lull in the conversation, a quiet beat where neither of you says anything, just looking at each other, the warmth of the drinks and the moment settling over both of you. You move a little closer, your knee brushing against his, and Seokmin swears he feels his heart stutter.
âSeokmin,â you say, voice barely a whisper, eyes bright with that boldness that only alcohol can provide.
âYeah?â His voice comes out breathier than he intended, and he has to resist the urge to reach for your hand.
You smile, almost shyly, but thereâs a warmth in your gaze that reassures him. âThanks for inviting me tonight. I had⊠a really great time.â
âMe too,â he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours. His hand, almost on instinct, drifts a little closer to yours, his fingers brushing against your knuckles.
As you step out of the karaoke bar, the cool night air feels refreshing, and Seokmin falls into an easy rhythm beside you. The streets are quiet, the lights soft and glowing, casting a warm hue on everything around you. He insists on walking you home, and you can see a bit of that familiar determination in his expressionâa mix of sweetness and subtle nerves, the kind that makes him even harder not to smile at.
The two of you talk softly as you walk, laughter spilling into the night as you recount moments from earlier, but the conversation drifts into a quiet calm. Seokmin feels a little tipsy, though he knows itâs not solely the drinks making him feel this way. Itâs the warmth in your laugh, the way your gaze lights up when you look at him. Everything feels a little brighter, softer, like the worldâs colors are blurring into a hazy glow.
Eventually, you pause, looking over at the buildings below the hill youâve climbed, and above them, the faint sparkle of stars cutting through the cityâs glow. Seokmin stops beside you, following your gaze, but when he looks back down, itâs not the skyline heâs mesmerized by. Itâs you, standing there with that quiet, contemplative look in your eyes.
At that moment, heâs overwhelmed. Something about this night, this moment, feels like a dreamâone heâs afraid might slip away if he blinks too long. He wants to say something, to tell you how lovely you look standing there, bathed in city lights. He can feel his heart pounding. Heâs been trying to find the right words for some time now, something that could capture the feeling building up in his chest when heâs with you. Heâs not sure if itâs the night, the laughter still echoing in his mind, or just the way youâre looking up at the sky. Before he can overthink himself out of it, he takes a breath and speaks, his voice just a little unsteady. âYou know⊠you look beautiful right now.â
Itâs the first time heâs said something so openly to you, and he can feel his cheeks heat up the second the words are out. You turn to him, a bit taken aback, your eyes wide with surprise before a smile slowly spreads across your face, soft and a little shy.
The moment stretches between you, and for once, he doesnât feel the need to fill it with laughter or play it off. Heâs content just looking at you, watching that glow in your eyes as his words settle in.Â
A soft laugh escapes you, and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down for a second before glancing back up at him. âI was going to say the same about you.â
He canât help but laugh, his own nervousness melting away a little. You both stand there, caught in the gentle pull between you, feeling a little bolder, a little lighter.
When you start walking again, his hand brushes against yours, and this time he doesnât pull away, letting his fingers linger close enough that if you reached out, theyâd intertwine. Itâs a simple gesture, but it says everything heâs been holding back, and as you walk together through the quiet streets, he knows something has shifted.
The stone path thuds beneath your footsteps, clumsy and unsteady as you both navigate the uneven terrain, sharing quiet laughter over your shared lack of coordination. Seokmin, glancing down, suddenly stops.
"Look!" he says, his finger pointing at a small penny on the ground, glinting faintly in the light. âWhatâs this doing all the way out here? Take it. For good luck.â
You shake your head, amused, and explain, âItâs only good luck if itâs face up when you find it.â
âAh.â Seokmin considers this, then immediately drops into a crouch, carefully flipping the coin over so Lincolnâs head is proudly facing the sky. He straightens up with a grin as if heâs just accomplished something important.
âWhatâd you do that for?â you ask, your tone laced with affection.
âNow someone else can have good luck,â he replies.
You feel something warm tug at you in response, watching him as he stands there, content with his small gesture of kindness. Suddenly, you see very clearly the kind of person Lee Seokmin is. Itâs so like himâturning even the smallest, most mundane thing into something significant. As he begins walking ahead, you linger just a moment, looking back at the coin on the ground, then up at him.
You donât move to follow him. Seokmin halts, slightly startled, his gaze questioning as he glances at you. But before he can ask why, you step closer, closing the space between you. Youâre both quiet, caught in a bubble of giddy anticipation, his eyes searching yours, wide with surprise. And then, without a word, you reach up, resting a hand lightly on his chest, and lean in.
The moment your lips meet his, itâs like everything else falls away, replaced by a feeling thatâs as soft as it is electric. He lets out a small, breathless laugh amidst his shock, hands stuck to his sides as your mouth presses to his.
When you pull back, you find him grinning, a little dazed, his eyes bright with surprise. Then he closes the space again, meeting your lips in another kiss, quick but more eager, like heâs savoring the feeling.
And then another. His hand drifts to your waist, drawing you in just a little closer each time your lips meet, each kiss growing a little bolder, a little sweeter, until the space between you disappears entirely. By the fourth kiss, his fingers have settled at the small of your back, warm and sure, and this time he lingers, letting the kiss deepen. Itâs slow, unhurried, something unknown flooding through him as he feels your hand slide up to cup his cheek, tilting his face toward you so you can taste his mouth with ease.
You both feel a little unsteady, leaning into each other for balance, your hands anchoring each other as the world spins quietly around you. His heart races, thrumming against yours, and thereâs a shy smile on his face when he finally pulls away, keeping his forehead close to yours, his eyes searching yours, dazed and happy and overcome with affection.
âI⊠I wasnât expecting that,â he says, his voice a little unsteady but full of quiet excitement.
âI wasnât planning it,â you admit, your cheeks flushed, but you donât pull away, savoring the closeness.
For a moment, you both just stand there, eyes locked, breaths mingling in the cool night air, as if tethered to each other by an invisible string. Then, without thinking, you lean back in, your lips finding his once more. This time, there's no hesitation, no pause, just a shared need to be closeâas close as possible. His hands tighten at your waist, pulling you in with a touch thatâs both careful and desperate, as though heâs afraid you might slip away.
He lets out a quiet laugh against your lips, a sound thatâs soft and breathless. It makes you laugh too, and you pull back for a moment, catching your breath, only to find his lips chasing after yours again. Thereâs something almost frantic in the way you keep returning to each other, like youâre both overwhelmed by the discovery of this closeness, unable to let it end just yet.
His hand moves gently to the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss, and you can feel the tenderness in his touch, in the way heâs holding onto you.Â
His voice is barely a whisper, warm and a little breathless. âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted to do that.â His words, shy and sincere, only pull you closer. Hand in hand, you start walking, the quiet night around you filled only by the soft sounds of your steps. He keeps his grip loose, fingers intertwined with yours, thumb brushing along the side of your hand as if he canât bear to let go ever again. You walk in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering touches, both of you stealing glances, unable to stop smiling.
Every so often, he pauses, as if some thread is tugging him back to you. He leans in to press a brief kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw, reeling over the way your eyes flutter closed from the feeling, and before you know it, his lips are back on yours. You laugh against his mouth, feeling both light-headed and grounded in a way thatâs wholly new and otherworldly. He pulls back with a grin, his eyes crinkling, looking both bashful and thrilled, like he canât believe this is real. Youâre unreal, you have to be. A fabrication of his imagination, so delicate, so perfect, so you.Â
As you continue walking, his arm slips around your shoulders, drawing you closer to his side. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, and the quiet contentment that settles over you feels as natural as breathing. When he stumbles slightly, you catch him, and he grins sheepishly, pulling you close again in a half-hug that turns into yet another kiss.
âI might never get home at this point,â You say breathlessly.
âWould that be so bad?â Each word is mumbled into your mouth as his fingers weave into your hair, holding the back of your neck and letting his tongue shyly lick your bottom lip.Â
The hum that you let out, either as a response to his rhetorical question or his tongue now moving against yours, makes his head spin. Your nails, raking down his chest over the material of his shirt, your hips pressing to hisâitâs all too much and at the same time, not enough.Â
The closer you get to your doorstep, the slower your steps become, as if prolonging the walk will somehow stretch this night just a little further. Every so often, Seokmin pulls you close, and you laugh as he wraps an arm around your waist, leaning in to kiss you again, each one deeper and more unhurried than the last.Â
Neither of you speak, as if words would break the fragile spell cast over the night. Instead, you stand there, wrapped up in each other, exchanging soft, dizzying kisses that grow lazier, more lingering.Â
Thereâs a pause, a beat of hesitation, as he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes warm and soft, and he murmurs, âI should probably let you go.â But even as he says it, his hand remains on your cheek as if heâs not quite ready to leave.
âProbably,â you whisper, lips barely brushing his, but neither of you moves. It takes a moment, maybe two, before he reluctantly lets out a quiet laugh and pulls away, his hand slipping from your cheek to squeeze your hand, holding onto you just a moment longer. He gives you one last look, filled with a warmth and tenderness that leaves you breathless.
âIâll see you soon?â he asks softly, already a few steps down the hall, as though heâs hoping for just one more promise to look forward to.
âSoon,â you reply, his gaze lingering on you as he walks away. You watch him go, the warmth of his kisses still lingering, the last few moments of the night settling over you as you turn to head inside, feeling light, tipsy, and wonderfully, utterly alive.
[click here to continue]
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The nearness of you
The main blame for this one-shot lies entirely to Queen Gorgo and her line "your lips can finish what your fingers have started".
Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader (i'm not used to use the first person p.o.v. mainly because in English i usually mess everything up by trying to fit verb tenses together so i hope everything is comprehensible).Â
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Fluff but a little smut towards the end, nothing too explicit 'cause i'm not good at writing it. Fairly ooc Aemond, obviously. But, as I've already said, I really like a softer Aemond, and I like the idea that, with the right person, he would totally show his feelings (after a lot of convincing, of course, as we all know how lacking in affection and love our guy is, and it would take him quite a while before he would let himself go).  Â
Beta reader: my sister, but like me, she's too obsessed with Aemond and i'm afraid she is not entirely objective. Whatever. Enjoy.
***
Wrapping yourself in your heavy velvet dressing gown, you quickly went back to bed after adding a couple of wooden logs to brighten the fire in the huge fireplace, watching Aemond sleeping peacefully in the dim glow provided by the candles and the burning fire.
He lies prone, his arms folded under the pillow and one leg slightly bent towards the middle of the mattress. His slender body, chiselled by years of training, is relaxed, his features softened.
Despite the fact that the two of you have been married for a long time and that you know every single millimetre of his body, shyness sometimes leads you to blush in front of him, as if you still were the inexperienced young maiden of your wedding night.
You stretch out a hand, at first caressing gently his scarred cheek with the knuckles, paying attention to not hurt his wounded eye, then stroking his head with caring touches, enjoying the sensation of the silky strands between your fingers. He is so distant from the unflattering portrait that your aunt made of him as soon as the news of your betrothal was spreaded through the realm, who depicted Aemond as a "monster ready to feed you to his dragon at his first bad day".
A bit introvert, with a closed-off and apparently unfriendly character, maybe sometimes grumpy but definitely not a monster, Aemond is always caring and gentle with you and the few people he trust and love. Otherwise, you had learnt that his usual demeanour is just a façade, that the real Aemond is the one hanging with you in the library, flying with Vhagar or laying in your marital bed. But all is fine as it is, you surely don't want to change or fix him in any way: after all, what's wrong with him to fix? You love him as he is, and people needs to be loved as they are, not as the world would like them to be.
You move your hand down slowly along his shoulders, feeling under your fingertips the scratches you remember leaving him with the nails during the night, marks that you could find again on his shoulder blades and down his muscular back, on his narrow, jerky hips, marks that goes alongside with older ones earned during his strict sword training. If you close your eyes, you can easily recall the sensation of his muscles moving beneath your touch and the heat of his skin against yours, his hands ceaselessly travelling on your body and his weight as he hold you firmly still against the mattress with the absolute need to feel you trembling beneath him, to hear you screaming his name on each deep and precise thrust of his hips.
Your gaze follows the trail of your nails even further, on the roundness of Aemond's buttocks, on which you suddenly no longer have the courage to stretch your hand, despite the fact that only few hours earlier you had grasped them with all your strength to pull him as closer as possible to your core so he could sink deeper into your walls.
"We'll end up keeping the whole fortress awake... i can stop if it's too much, mh?" he'd chuckled out of the blue, teasing you a little after a loud cry escaped your mouth.
"Don't you dare." was your response, hissed in his ear and making him laugh heartily. "My word, Aemond, if you stop now, i'll make you pay for it."
"Oh, would you? I'm almost tempted to stop right now just to see how you will make me pay for my disobedience."
Shooking your head, with your hand still steady right above the dimples at the bottom of his back, you furtively check if Aemond is still asleep, surrendering to the urge to repeat the same gestures of that night: taking a deep breath, your hand lingered on the smooth skin of his bare ass, savouring that feeling for a while before squeezing it gently.
"Your lips can finish what your fingers have started."
You gasp surprised, blushing like you're again that little girl caught stealing the pastries set to cool in the kitchens of your father's castle, noticing the smirk painted on Aemond's lips and his wonderful eye pointed at you, clearly amused and flattered by your attentions.
"I thought... Gods... i thought you were asleep... how long have you been awake?"
"Hm...a while. Let's say since i felt your fingers on my face." he hummed, noticing your reddened cheeks. "How come that we're married for a long time yet you still blush over me? Oh, look at you... don't be shy, darling. You know you can touch whatever you want, whenever you want."
Blushing was the least of it, since a glance from him was often enough to set you on fire.
"Keep going though, i was enjoying it."
Yeah, of course he was. "What a little rascal you are."
With a wide smile Aemond turns on his back, offering his whole being to your gaze, to your will.
"Come darling, come to me." whispers, stretching his arms towards you and guidind you on top.
His skin felt so familiar and warm it hurt your heart. Moving a little, you adjust yourself on his pelvis before running your hands over him again, and again, and again, until suddenly you can feel his yearning running through his veins like a fire, bringing his blood to the boiling point, flushing his skin: you can sense it by the way his manhood is already leaking against you. With his breathing more strained, Aemond pulls himself up to sit, his muscles tensed at every single touch on his body, letting you taking him again as his hands flattened against your spine, drawing you as closer as possible.
"Don't be shy, you can do what you want to me. I'm yours."
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