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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years ago

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Wicked Game ~ T.H

chapter eight: the twin flame bruise

pairing: frat! Tom Holland x Reader

series masterlist

“As you all know, I won the bet. I was the first to get a girl to fall in love with me, so I stand before you as the president of Delta Nu.”

It was a week after the party and officially the start of a new semester. Tom’s frat brothers sat in seats in front of him a as he gave his first speech as president. He looked around the room at all his frat brothers and let out a nervous breath. Then, he looked down at his note cards and spoke before he lost his nerve.

“For my first act as president, I am officially disbanding the Delta Nu chapter on this campus. Effective immediately.”

He was immediately met with a roar of backlash from his frat brothers. Some threw questions at him while others talked amongst themselves. With everyone speaking at once, Tom couldn’t hear any of the questions being asked of him. Tom banged on the gavel until they all quieted down. One of the boys raised his hand and Tom called on him.

“Yes, Elijah.”

“You can’t do that.” Trevor stated, making all the boys shout in agreement. Tom hit the gavel again to get their attention.

“Yes, I can. I already submitted a proposal for the abolishment of this chapter to national headquarters.”

“But why?” Elijah asked.

“You want to know why I’m doing this? I’m doing this because we suck. We all suck. The few of us who aren’t emotionally scaring women for the rest of their lives simply stand by and watch those of us do. If you don’t speak up when your friend is harassing a girl, then you might as well be harassing her too. You’re not better just because you’re not the one doing it.”

“This is bullshit. Why are we all being punished for what Trent did?” One of the boys asked and the rest murmured in agreement.

“Because look at us. Look at what we do. How many of you would’ve stepped in and stopped Trent? How many of you would’ve even noticed what he was doing?” Tom asked, making the room fall silent.

“This is what I mean, guys. We don’t stop each other when someone goes too far. We just cover it up and move on. But the girls that we do this to, don’t get to move on. They start walking home with their keys between their fingers. And they stop laughing the way they used to because of us made them feel bad about it. They eat less because of something we said and stop wearing their favorite shirt because we made fun of it. We emotionally terrorize these girls and praise each other for who does it best. And that doesn’t make us stereotypical “asshole” frat guys. That makes us terrible human beings.”

Tom looked around at his brothers and hoped what he said had made an impact on him. Instead, they started to boo him and throw paper balls at him. Tom ducked when a ball come flying at him and looked to Harrison for help. Harrison quickly stood up to get their attention.

“He’s right. We do suck. Especially Chad. You suck big time, bro. And so do I because I’m the one who made this stupid bet in the first place.” Harrison shouted over the noise.

“The bet was nothing in compared to what Trent did.” Elijah pointed out.

“Maybe not.” Tom agreed. “But it was still a shitty thing to do. We bet that we could get a girl to fall in love with us by the end of the semester. By taking part in this bet, we admitted that we view the women on this campus as toys that can be played with. But when you win a game against people who didn’t know they were playing, you don’t really win. You lose. You lose yourself. You lose your humanity. You lose the ability to say that you’re a good person without lying to yourself.”

Tom looked down at his note cards and dropped them on the podium. He decided to go off script and speak from the heart instead. It was the kind of cliche that happened in the movies the romantic comedies you liked to watch and made Tom think of you.

“When I was a little boy, I was nice.” Tom began. “My mom used to tell me that all her friends couldn’t get over what a gentleman I was. Now, I think my mom would cry if she knew what I was like. I think she’d be sick to her stomach if I told her about this bet. And I bet your moms would be too. Do you think your moms or your sisters or your grandmas would be proud of you if they knew about this bet? Hell, are you proud?”

Tom looked around the room but didn’t meet a single eye. Everyone was avoiding eye contact as they thought about their worst moments. Every time they stood a girl up, made her cry, laughed at her dreams, rolled their eyes at her jokes, made her feel dumb, screamed in her face, or lied to her replayed in their minds.

“It’s different when you put it like that. I’d kill a guy for doing this to my sister.” Brad, who had previously been silent, spoke up.

“That’s our problem.” Tom laughed dryly. “We can’t pick and chose which women have value. All women are people with feelings, whether they’re related to us or not. A lot of us don’t get that. But we need to. We can do better. We have to do better. This frat has become a breeding ground for people like Trent. So I’m disbanding it. And maybe you’ll all go on and join another frat and keep living the way you’re living. Or maybe you’ll take what I said here into consideration. I hope you do the second one.”

Tom looked around the room one last time before setting his gavel down on the podium.

“Meeting is over. You’re all dismissed. Move your stuff out by the end of the week.” Tom said before leaving the podium. The boys slowly dispersed as Tom walked over to Harrison.

“You did the right thing man.” Harrison told him.

“Yeah. About a semester too late.” Tom sighed. “But when you get bit by a snake, you have to suck out all the poison. And that's what I have to do, suck all the poison out of my life.”

“Wow. That’s really deep. Did you just come up with that?” Harrison wondered.

“No. I stole it from Mean Girls.” Tom admitted. “But it’s true. The root of the poison started here. And I let it infect me and I hate it. I hate everything about this stupid frat. And I hate that I dragged Y/n into it.”

“I know, dude. But she’ll forgive you one day.”

“I hope so.” Tom said as he looked over his shoulder. He looked at the swords mounted to the wall, the holes punched into almost every wall in the house, the cans of beer and empty liquor bottles were strewn across the ground. He then took his hat off his head and looked down at it.

“I don’t even recognize myself anymore.” Tom said, mostly to himself.

“Neither do I.” Harrison smiled sadly. “I feel like I’m the worst version of myself yet.”

“So do I.” Tom sighed. “Have you spoken to Peyton?”

“No. She won’t talk to me. Have you spoken to Y/n?”

“No. I’ve left her a million messages but I think she blocked my number. I was gonna go over there today to apologize in person.”

“I’ll go with you.” Harrison decided and nodded towards the door.

A few minutes later, the boys stood outside your door with their hearts pounding in their chests. They stopped by the corner store to pick something up before heading over to your dorm. Harrison patted Tom on the back before knocking on the door. Peyton opened it, her smile dropping as soon as she saw who it was.

“Oh. Ew.” She scrunched her face in disgust and went to shut the door.

“Please don’t shut the door. I just want to talk to Y/n.” Tom pleaded as he pushed the door back open. Peyton shut it enough so only her face was sticking out.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Believe it or not.”

“Please?” Tom begged. “I haven’t spoken to her all week. I just want to see that she’s okay.”

“She’s fine. No thanks to you.” Peyton said flatly.

“Then can you at least give her these?” Tom asked as he held out some flowers.

“Fine.“ Peyton rolled her eyes and snatched the flowers.

“And these?” Tom smiled weakly and held out a pack of Reese’s. Peyton gave him a strange look and took the candy. She then made eye contact with Harrison for the first time since their breakup.

“Hi.” He smiled at her and gave a little wave.

“Get lost.” She scoffed and shut the door.

“Who was that?” You asked when Peyton came back into your room.

“Some idiots. These are for you.” Peyton said as she held out the candy and flowers. You looked at them curiously as you took them. You sniffed the flowers and cracked a smile.

“What?” Peyton wondered.

“He brought me flowers.” You spoke in a quiet tone. It was an old-fashioned gesture, the kind he knew you loved.

“Yep. He probably brought bees into our dorm too.” Peyton mumbled.

“I love bees.” You said softly.

“What was that?” Peyton asked.

“Nothing. Thanks for answering the door.“

“Anytime, girl.” She gave you a warm smile. You returned the smile before looking down at the candy in your hands. You unwrapped it and took a bite, immediately thinking back to one of your earliest encounters with Tom. You were so sure he was a good guy when he brought you Reese’s back from the store, along with the pads. Now, you weren’t sure of anything.

Over the next few days, there was a new bouquet of flowers waiting for you every time you left your dorm. Each bouquet had a long, handwritten apology attached to the stems. You would read the first few lines and drop them right into the trash, then go back and read them later. Each note was different, showing you that Tom was really trying.

“More flowers?” You asked when Peyton came into the room one day with a handful of daisies.

“Yep. And a latte this time.” She replied and handed you the cup in her hand.

“A latte?” You asked curiously. She watched your face go from confused to surprised once you took a sip.

“What?“ She wondered.

“It’s a an unsweetened cinnamon light soy latte.” You smiled fondly as you looked at the cup.

“You drink those?”

“No. Sandra Bullock does in The Proposal. It’s like Christmas in a cup.” You said and took another sip.

“Why would he drop that off?” Peyton wondered.

“I don’t know.” You lied. “Weird.”

First, it was the candy from the morning you got your period on his sheets. Now, it was the latte from your favorite movie. That, along with all the flowers he was sending you, we’re making it more difficult to hate Tom than you hoped.

In addition to the flowers, Tom had been waiting for you outside your classes. He waited from a distance this time, just to make sure you were okay. He never failed to show up and watch as you went from one class to another.

“Hey.” Tom smiled hopefully as you walked by him.

“Don’t bother.” You replied, never turning your head to look his way. When you ignored him, it felt as if he didn’t even exist. The perfume that used to stain his sheets and leave him thinking of you when you were gone was now all that hung in the air between you as you walked away.

As the weeks went by, the flowers never stopped. Every surface in your dorm had a multiple vases filled with flowers on them. Watering each individual vase had been keeping your mind off everything that had happened. You were watering

“I’ll get it.” Peyton told you when you heard a knock at the door one day.

“Hi. Me again.” Tom smiled sheepishly and held up a bouquet of yellow roses.

“Tom. You gotta give this up. Just go home.” Peyton sighed and tried to close the door.

“Please let me see her.”

“She doesn’t want to see you. I tell you this every day. Why don’t you get that?”

Before Tom could respond, he heard familiar laughter coming from inside your dorm. He heard male voices that he knew all too well and frowned in confusion.

“Are those my brothers?” Tom asked and pointed inside.

“No.” Peyton lied as Tom pushed past her. Once he was in your dorm, he saw Sam and Harry sitting on your bed. You were all laughing as you took forkfuls out of a tin of brownies.

“Harry? Sam? What are you guys doing here?” Tom asked. He then made eye contact with you and felt his entire face go red. You hadn’t spoken to each other since the night of the party, about a month ago. His hair was a little longer and curlier than since you last saw him. He was wearing a nice button-down shirt, a sharp contrast to the usually backward cap and jerseys you usually saw him in.

“Hi Tom.” You said with a mouthful of brownies. He smiled fondly at you and felt like he could cry just from hearing you speak to him again.

“Hi darling. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You shrugged and looked away from him.

“She’s a lot better.” Sam insisted. “Because there is no ailment slutty brownies can’t fix.”

“Slutty brownies?” Tom questioned.

“Its brownies with Oreos and chocolate chip cookies baked into them. Sam made them for Y/n. You gotta try these.” Harry said as he held up the tin of brownies.

“I’m good, thanks. Um, these are for you, Y/n.” Tom said as he sheepishly held out the bouquet of flowers. He usually left them at your door so this was the first time he was getting to hand them to you in person.

“Thanks.” You took them from him without looking him in the eyes. Tom felt his heartbreak all over again at your iciness towards him and nervously cleared his throat.

“Uh, yellow roses are meant to symbolize friendship.” Tom told you. “Because I hope we can be friends again.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t bet on it.” You mumbled as you pulled a petal off one of the flowers.

“Ha. She loves me not?” Sam snorted and pointed to the petal.

“Exactly.” You smiled dryly at him. Somehow, that stung Tom worse than your previous silence had.

“Nice one.” Harry smirked and held his fist out. You cracked a smile and bumped his fist with your own, making Tom’s jealousy rise up again.

“Can I talk to you guys outside for a second?” Tom asked his brothers. Sam handed the brownies back to you before walking out of the room with Tom.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” He asked them.

“We came to apologize to her about the bet.” Harry explained.

“And then about everything else we’ve ever done to women.” Sam added.

“You came to apologize to her? Why?”

“We all took part in the bet.” Sam shrugged. “We all encouraged you to do what you did to her. It wasn’t a one-man operation. We all fucked her over.”

“I mean, I guess so. But what did she say? Did she forgive you?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “Although I think the brownies had more to do with that than our apology.”

“I make really good brownies.” Sam shrugged.

“Do you think she’ll forgive me too?” Tom asked as he looked at your door. Harry and Sam exchanged a look, making Tom think they already had this conversation with you.

“I don’t know, man.” Harry smiled apologetically. “We encouraged the bet but we weren’t the ones playing with her feelings like that.”

“What we did was a lot different from what you did.” Sam added. “It was still bad, but not as bad as you.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Tom nodded in disappointment and looked at your door again. He could hear you laughing at something Peyton had said and let out a sigh.

“I don’t think she wants me to go back in there. Can you just tell her I’m sorry? And that I miss her?”

“Sure.” Sam said. “We’ll probably leave soon too. I’ll tell her what you said.”

Tom looked at your door again and felt that recurring pit of sadness in his stomach. More than anything, he wished things could go back to the way they used to be. He wanted to be able to walk into your room again and have you kiss him hello instead of avoiding eye contact.

“Could you tell her one more thing?” Tom asked his brothers. After listening to what Tom had to say, Sam and Harry went back into your room.

“Where’s Tom?” You asked when they came back alone. You tried not to sound as disappointed as you felt that he was no longer there.

“He left. He wanted us to tell you something though.” Sam said, piquing your interest.

“Tell me what?” You wondered, doing your best to sound uninterested.

“He said you were the coolest girl he’s ever met.” Harry repeated the words Tom said to him. Your jaw dropped a little in surprise when you heard those words out of Harry’s mouth. You thought about the night you met Tom a lot. You replayed the conversations you had with him and tried to remember if his deception ever surfaced. Instead, all you remembered was bonding over movies and wearing his weird little gray hat.

“I don’t get it.” Peyton frowned. “Does that mean something?”

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked around the room. Everyone was looking at you expectantly for an explanation, but you didn’t want to give them one.

“No.” You smiled tightly. “It means nothing.

The next day, you saw Tom waiting outside your class like he usually did. When he spotted you, he turned his head and pretended that he wasn’t waiting for you. You smiled a little to yourself as he pretended to take interest in a nearby tree. You would usually walk away from him when you saw him on campus. This time, you started walking towards him.

Tag List 🏷

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #frat!tom holland x nerd!reader #frat!tom #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #frat!tom holland x nerdy!reader #tom holland angst

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edelegs · 3 years ago

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black eagles relationships i like but don’t see talked about enough

Ferdinand and Petra - I adore their supports. You see a lot of Ferdinand’s dorky side with his reading about historic weapons, and you see that he is genuinely curious about Petra’s culture. He admits that he initially didn’t realize how sophisticated Brigidian techniques are and I just adore his vulnerability with her. And then there’s Petra in their A support, admitting she found a second home in Fòdlan, and the two discuss their loneliness? It’s such interesting insight into both characters (especially Ferdie; I’d say these are some of his most well-rounded supports)

Hubert and Dorothea - Dorothea sees right through Hubert’s edgy theatre kid persona. She approaches him like she would any friend right from the beginning and teases him about his love life. She also respects and believes him when he says that unrequited love isn’t his motivation. I would’ve liked a conclusion that wasn’t Dorothea suggesting they marry, but it is really funny that she did that. I love their paired ending too--completely platonic espionage opera! What could be better?

Hubert and Byleth - in my head they have a quirky sitcom where Byleth keeps trying to arrange Edeleth/Ferdibert double dates and Hubert has to attend them. (but seriously, the appeal of Hubert is looking at this man and saying “I’m gonna make you like me”, and then you do it). Outside of my shipping biases, his threats to you are funny as shit considering that he has no power over you and he’s always dying in battle, but once you win his trust he admits that despite looking Blatantly Evil, he truly abhors TWSTID and is already planning their follow-up war. I could easily see him and Byleth co-leading the war in the shadows (and that’s where the dialogue of the aforementioned platonic Huleth workplace comedy takes place). Also my friend who played as m!Byleth told me the “we could be a couplet of birds” line in the A-support still exists regardless of gender. Hubert is demiromantic bi and you CANNOT change my mind

Edelgard and Petra - “Don’t settle for being the bird. Be the arrow instead” Both have a great deal of mutual respect for each other, even though Edelgard is heir to the nation that has kept Petra’s country down for years. You see the same beliefs Petra holds in her supports with Caspar here--that being, “we are not our parents, we can make different choices”. It’s a shame they only have 2 supports. I think it would’ve been cool to see Petra asking Edelgard for Brigidian independence or otherwise talking about how she can achieve her goal.

Edelgard and Linhardt - I actually think people talk about this a bit, but it’s one of my favourite Black Eagles support chains so I have to mention it. This one is the key to understanding that Edelgard’s better world is only possible in her route, when she has the support and opportunity to trust others enough to learn how to listen to them and consider their perspectives. I advise anyone who thinks Edelgard would be a brutal dictator to watch these supports, because they so blatantly contradict that idea? Linhardt initially frustrates her because she knows he’s talented and smart but he doesn’t want to do anything to help the world with that. Characters like Linhardt are usually given an arc in which they overcome an initial selfishness to help others. This is not that. These supports are about Edelgard learning to understand Linhardt and accommodate him. Edelgard agonizes over finding the perfect way to allow him to do his research in a way that suits him--and when she senses his hesitation at her initial plan, she presses him for the problem and reconfigures the idea because she won’t put him in a situation he’s not fully content in. This is astounding character growth (from both of them, but mostly Edelgard). Also the struggle depicted in this chain is just something that spoke to me when I first saw it--”be useful” versus “learn for knowledge’s sake” is pretty much my exact struggle in life 😂 Seeing two of my favourite characters reach a resolution that satisfied both of them was hopeful, to say the least.

Caspar and Ferdinand - What strikes me about their supports is that it compares and contrasts these characters’ ideas of justice against each other. Honestly, the Black Eagles as a whole have takes on morality that are just slightly skewed, and these characters’ arguments about it exemplify it. Caspar just thinks that people who hurt others should be hit right away, head empty no thoughts but j u s t i c e. Ferdinand initially believes that all sense of justice comes from being nobility, and with that comes an obligation to be morally superior. Having Caspar just go “uh yeah, what does nobility have to do with it? I just had to hit that guy” is one way in which Ferdinand’s ideals are challenged. It’s a cool contrast that I think highlights an interesting aspect of the Black Eagles and what they were taught.

Dorothea and Bernie - I love everything about their interaction. If Dorothea were a lesser character, she’d be the mean popular girl who shames Bernie for her messy hair and her anxiety. Instead, Dorothea is patient and Bernie is like “oh no she’s Too Cool for me”. Dorothea also makes note of what Bernie says as she gets too anxious to continue the interaction and aims to comfort her in their next support. We get a good Bernie character moment in their B-support, where she mentions her father ruining her friendship with a commoner boy--and a cathartic moment where Dorothea tells her that her father’s an asshole and that they’re going to be friends anyway. Bernie cries in Dorothea’s arms and AHHHH why didn’t we get MORE of this???

Bernie and Petra - If I could add any support and ending to the game, it would be Bernie/Petra. They have such a good starting point--because of Bernie’s anxiety and Petra being a second language speaker of Fòdlandish, they are prone to miscommunications (which is the general theme of early Bleagles supports). They had a nice 2-support arc where they understand each other a little better--but then there’s the paralogue, where Petra encourages Bernie to come to her homeland with her and Bernie realizes she wants to travel and see amazing things like carnivorous plants. This is fantastic character development for her and is a satisfying conclusion to her arc. I feel like most of Bernie’s endings involve her just reverting back to her hermit self instead of developing a balance between who she was at the beginning and who she’s grown into. I think Petra would offer to let her come to Brigid again, where she helps her navigate a new language and culture. Bernie’s anxiety is still bad but Petra has been in her position and can offer advise and reassurance. Petra is also patient and would give Bernie a safe little house near the carnivorous plants for her to retreat to when overwhelmed. It becomes both of their refuge, with Petra taking time away from her regal duties to spend time with Bernie and her art and her stories. Whether it’s romantic or platonic is up to preference but I low-key ship them 😏

#black eagles #ferdinand von aegir #petra macneary #hubert von vestra #dorothea arnault #caspar von bergliez #bernadetta von varley #edelgard von hresvelg #linhardt von hevrig #byleth eisner #fe3h

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captnjacksparrow · 3 years ago

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You know, you keep referencing to shoujo mess. I get that you don't probably think shoujo is complex or worth watching.

But let me just say this. Lot of shoujo has openly portrayed or shown LGBTQ themes and relationships. Majorly. Shounen hasn't. Isn't that why you opened this blog? To talk about Naruto and Sasuke's romantic gay relationship?

Just saying. Shoujo is not all bad.

Okay.. I think it came out wrongly, I guess. Sorry for that. But Let me explain it... I am not against ANY GENRE... Horror, Comedy, Romance, Erotic Thriller, Action, Adventure....I am all for it... I've watched all kinds of movies. So, I would be an hypocrite if I criticize other Genres.

As long as it stays true to the genre, am okay. Like I can’t be expecting a 5 minute lengthy ‘Fault in our Stars’ kind of Tearful Romance in a ‘Conjuring’ movie. Or I can’t be possibly expecting Captain America to go on a Bachelor Party to Las Vegas and ‘roofied’ along with his Super hero pals... Iron Man, Thor and Hulk.

If I do expect these kind of crap stuffs, which means I am a fool.

My problem is Naruto Anime did THE BETRAYAL OF A GENRE!!!!!!

When I started this series....

3 minutes into Episode 1... There is this boy who says...

5 mins into Episode 1... This Little Orphan Boy says this...

And by Episode 84,

We get this gruesome scene!!!!!

As far as I understand..... This World is Harsh, Cruel and Gory. I can’t possibly expect a romance and courtship scenes from this series. And If I do, Am the biggest Fool on this Planet Earth.. At the most we can get something remotely cute like Minato and Kushina’s Romance that lasted for just 2 pages in Manga and 5 mins in Anime. And May I say, That’s perfect and more than enough?????

So.... My expectation from this Series is that How Sasuke gets over his Hatred and How Naruto becomes the Greatest Hokage... I never expected them to hold hands, Kiss each other and ride towards the sunset.... together.... All I wanted was How will they reconcile and instill the ‘Hope’ in Audience that they will change this World Together????!!!! And I got this Hope in Episode 479 itself.

That’s all.

But what did I get after that???

I got an invisible bleeding from my eyes, nose, skin, ears and mouth.

Naruto forgot to invite his Best Friend and behaving like an Horny Asshole whose dream was always to Marry Hinata... What the Fuck!!!! Please scroll up and look at the pictures of Naruto I’ve attached here.. Do you really think THAT Naruto will become an Asshole, like he was in Episode 500???

He didn’t even become an Hokage whereas Jounins from his village were busy planning his Wedding... It’s not that am against Wedding Plans.. I enjoyed a movie called Bridesmaids which is a story about the struggles of a Girl who was tasked to plan her Best Friend’s wedding...It’s a rewatchable and mood uplifting movie. But why the fuck a mellow comedy drama genre was adapted into a10+ episode in a Shounen????

At the end of Episode 500, Naruto (the character) gave me the Vibe of a Horny, 2 Faced, Ugly, Hypocritical, Shitty, Cringy Asshole who forgot to become an Hokage and be truthful to his Friend.... [[Man... It really pains me to use these words to describe Naruto]]

When the Anime was adapting 699 chapters from the Manga, I’ve never felt any Out Of Genre... (OOG)...at any point of time. Why the hell they changed the Genre of the series just to make Naruto and Hinata get under the bedsheet together, Anon????

Isn’t this the greatest Betrayal of Genre??? Why couldn’t they just adapt Chapter 700 as it is from the Manga???

Or Let me put it this way...

Say if you are watching a pleasant Shoujo Anime... And towards the end, the Story goes...

Lead Character : Hey, You Bastard..... I won’t forgive you.... Am going to Rasengan you now... Pooooof!!!! Take it!!!!! Chouu Ooodama Rasengan.... Blast.... *******Pikawwww*********

Villain: Don’t Underestimate me, you fool!!!! Am going to destroy this Earth.... Take this... Shinra Tensei No Jutsu.... Poooof....!!!! *****Entire City was destroyed******...

Now tell me, Anon.... Doesn’t this looks like a Shounen Cringefest????

Won’t you feel Cringed at this shitty development!!????

Similarly, SS shippers expect that ugly Sasuke Retsuden Novel to be adapted into the Anime in where Sasuke behaves like a Moron very similar to how Naruto was in Episode 500.... I am like, “Not Again!!!!”.....

It’s like the Anime is portraying Diana Prince, The Wonder Woman always wanted to play home with Steve Trevor... Not to save the world using her super powers...

So, Whenever I say Shoujo Cringefest..... it means Am not against the genre... Am only against the Betrayal of the Genre... They completely made a Fool out of the Audience... I have nothing against Shoujo. Hope my explanation clarifies my view!!!

#shounen #shoujo #naruto #sasuke #sns #sasunaru #narusasu

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stradlingmrstradlin · 4 years ago

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So I enjoy writing and I this is the first story that I wrote with the intent of being posted. Constructive criticism is always welcome ♥️

Here's the story

Steven x Duff

Reader x Izzy

(No warnings, maybe swearwords if that counts, also I don't promote underage drinking)

I think I managed to stay gender-neutral

Words: 2794

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You were on a road trip with the guys, how did you end up here? Oh well, you've known the guys for a few years as you were good friends with Steven since you were kids, but you had a falling out because he moved around quite a lot and your family did too.

When you were 14 your family moved to Seattle and stayed there for 4 years. In those years you met a blond-haired dude whose name was Michael or as you and a few other people called him, Duff. You and Duff met at a corner store when you were 15 and tried to steal a bottle of vodka. Duff was also lurking around the alcohol section, also probably trying to steal some alcoholic beverage.

But he was, according to the store manager, a suspicious punk guy...so he got kicked out before even getting his hands on anything. You felt bad for him so after sliding a bottle in the inside pocket of your denim jacket and throwing a wink and a charming smile towards the cashier you walked out.

So there you were at eighteen having to say goodbye to Duff because your family was moving away... again but now to Ireland. You had a huge argument with your family about always moving and you losing all of your friends because of them so you made a decision, to run away. Ok, I know that's a stupid idea because how the fuck will you survive on your own?

Your family was well off so you decided to take a bit of money with you, they probably wouldn't even notice.

You lived in quite a few places after that, from the back alley of the theater to Duff's place, his family loved you so it was ok. When Duff decided to move to LA to pursue his dream of being in a band you of course followed him.

You moved into a small one-room apartment together, but it was great. Living with Duff is fun. But he always moved stuff on the top shelf to mess with you, and also money was tight. You guys both worked a lot but it was alright.

He joined a few bands and played a few gigs in shitty bars but none of them worked out. You played guitar so you tried but it was the same with you, never being able to keep a band together for more than a month. Also being a girl didn't help, because many bands thought that it'll ruin their image if a girl is in the band.

Eventually, he put an ad in the paper looking for a band and that's how he met the other guys. You were super surprised to see Steven there but also happy to see him. Also, you remembered Slash from meeting him with Steven maybe a couple of times. The only new people were the two boys, who, as you later found out were from Indiana. The one who looked a bit like Johnny Thunders was hot, but you ignored that fact for now.

The first thing you noticed between your two blond friends was a bit of jealousy, at first you thought maybe they liked you and were jealous of each other, but after a while, even before they knew it, you caught onto the real reason. They didn't like you, at least not romantically, they liked each other. But for about four years they didn't act in their feelings...(later on about that)

Eventually, in 1985 they formed Guns N Roses. The guys liked you, and Axl tried to fuck you, but after a big smack on the head and an angry talking to by Duff he quickly forgot that idea.

So now in 1988 here you were sitting in the back of a van, that Izzy was driving because he was the only sober one...today. Tomorrow probably you'll have to drive.

Your pov.

We were in the car for about twenty minutes and everything was calm...for now. Led Zeppelin was coming from the radio and Axl was softly singing along, in the front seat and Izzy was driving. Duff sipping something from a bottle, probably something alcoholic, and slowly falling asleep and leaning on Steven's shoulder. Steve was smiling per usual, but if possible his smile got even bigger when Duff's head landed on his shoulder. But as all good things come to an end, the comfortable silence got broken.

"I have to pee!" Steven suddenly yelled out, causing Duff to lift his head off of Steven's shoulder and look around in confusion. "The fuck is going on?"

Axl just grumbled "Steven is a fucking baby and can't go and use the toilet before road trips...no he has to use them when we are in the middle of a fucking highways"

Slash snorted at Axl's response but didn't say anything as he didn't want to get into this argument, surprising.

Can't the guys stay still for one second?

"Izzy, can you please stop the car at the next rest stop?" I asked, as kindly as possible not wanting to further upset Rosie and listen to him throwing a temper tantrum for the next hour or so, he's annoying sometimes.

Anyways we stopped at the next stop, and Steven almost ran to the restroom. I switched places with Axl because he was tired and wanted to sit in the back, so he could stretch out a bit. Now Axl was sitting next to Slash, and Steven came back jumping in next to Duff. We're on the road again.

"Can I switch the music?" Izzy looked at me with almost puppy dog eyes, well I didn't think that was possible.

"Of course, what do you have in mind?"I replied almost laughing because of the face he was making

"Maybe Hanoi Rocks?" He again looked at me with the same stupid face.

"Fine, just stop making that face because I'll probably die from laughter" At this point, I just straight up burst out laughing and he just threw a cute lil smile my way. I was super proud of myself because I made THE Izzy Stradlin laugh.

A little background on me and Izzy. When we first met I ignored that he was hot because I didn't want to mess anything up for Duff with the band, but in the next two years that feeling grew from "oh, he's hot" to "I want to fuck him". No, we never fucked, but at a party in 87' we had a really hot make-out session which was sadly ended by a drunk Slash passing out on top of me...that was a wild party. There were no awkward feelings between us but we never took it further either. We sometimes cuddled and kissed when we needed human contact but nothing else. I always wanted more, but Izzy...Izzy is a mysterious guy, hard to figure out, the only person who somewhat is able to figure him out is Axl...but you don't go to Axl asking for advice, because Axl's advice is usually bad advice.

..My thoughts were interrupted by the opening cords for Don't You Ever Leave Me, which's one of my favorite songs. Izzy glanced at me and seconds later we were quietly singing because we didn't want to disturb our four friends who were asleep in the back. Axl and Slash were leaning on each other and Axl's face was barely visible because of Slash's hair. Duff was leaning on a window and Steve was cuddled up to him.

As I was looking at my friends when Iz asked me a question "When do you think they'll realize that they like each other because you have to be an idiot to not realize it, I mean Steven always smiles around Duff, and Duff is so cuddly with steven?" Oh boy, the problem was, that our friends were indeed stupid, at least on the topic of love. "I don't know Iz, they are after all a bit ignorant when it comes to love" As I said this I saw something in Izzy's face change, but I couldn't identify it because it was gone pretty soon. After that we didn't talk much, only glancing at each other a few times but it wasn't uncomfortable or anything, we just didn't have anything else to say out loud.

However, my thoughts were really loud... Ignorant with love? That sounds like us, maybe after all Duff and Stevie weren't the only stupid ones.

...It was around 6 pm when we got to our destination, a fairly large cabin up in the hills, between a shit ton of trees. Nice, finally we can rest without reporters, fans, and annoying paparazzi asking about the private life of the guys.

Everyone had their own room as nobody really wanted to share, we specifically looked for a cabin with 6 rooms, we love each other but sharing a room is annoying. In the beginning, when we didn't have much I shared rooms with probably all of the guys.

Axl is an annoying little fucker, he kicked me in his dream a lot of times, my back hurt a lot after. Slash is nice, he let me have my own space on the small bed we slept on and didn't bother me, well he accidentally woke me up when he fell off the bed, but that sucks for him, not me. Steven and Duff both love cuddles, Steven almost suffocated me once but other than that it's nice sleeping next to them. Izzy...He doesn't hug you or cuddle up to you when you're going to sleep but somehow you always wake up tangled together.

After we brought up our luggage to our assigned rooms Slash had the awesome idea to watch a film. Steven wanted to watch something funny but Axl quickly told him to fuck off.

"Axl, that's very rude" Duff quickly came to the help of Steven. "Yeah, well I ain't watching some shitty comedy, that's for pussies" ..Axl is an asshole sometimes

Slash had enough of arguing and just put on a horror movie and told everyone to shut up and watch the movie.

Halfway through, Steven was cuddled up to Duff, hiding in his chest.

Axl laughed every time someone died, and Slash always shushed him.

Outside pov.

As the movie went on Steven was buried under his hair, two blankets, and most importantly to him, in Duff's arms. How can they be so stupid? Not noticing something that's there?

But they weren't the only stupid ones, no there was a black-haired boy, and you. Also stupid... too stupid in love to notice what's there.

After the movie ended you made food for the guys. Duff decided to help, as the others were pretty incapable of cooking or didn't want to help.

Your pov.

"You know y/n you're blind for not noticing how Izzy looks at you." Duff stated bluntly. "Well McKagan then you're pretty blind for not noticing how Steven looks at you"

"What do you mean?" He asked with...hope? His eyes got wider and you could hear his voice shake a bit.

"Duff, are you serious? Steven likes you, he always tries to be close to you, looks at all the groupies you fuck with so much anger in his eyes, I never thought he could be so angry. And don't think I don't see you staring at him all day" I said with a sweet smile on my face.

"I don't get it y/n..he..he likes me?"

"Yes Duff, he does, he really does, so please don't mess this up, promise me you'll talk to him while we're here"

I really hope he'll talk to him because it's probably eating them up from the inside to keep these feelings locked away.

"But! Y/n, you should talk to Izzy too, you have something between the two of you" Duff looked at me with pleading eyes

"Duff, things are complicated, we.... well, we know about each other's feelings but, I don't know, I guess we're just too afraid to fuck it up"

I don't know about his feelings, to be honest, but I'm definitely scared to fuck up because I really like him. For a time I never thought I'd be able to love someone, and I know that's a strong word to use, but when he came along, stuff changed.

By the time we were done cooking the guys were all hungry and basically ran to the kitchen, I was really conflicted inside from our conversation with Duff. Should I mention it to Iz? Probably should. Whatever, I'll think about it later.

Night came around and everyone retreated to their own rooms to sleep, or in my case think.

Outside pov.

Slash and Axl were fast asleep in their rooms, but the others weren't.

Duff was sitting in the kitchen, head in his hands muttering to himself about being a coward and stupid. Steven however noticed someone downstairs and when he saw Duff and what he was muttering to himself he got sad. How could this perfect human being think that he's stupid? He tiptoed behind him and pulled Duff in his arms from behind. Duff was sitting so the back of his head was pressed into stevens chest. At first, Duff was scared but as soon as he smelled the familiar and calming scent of Steven he instantly felt comfortable, like he was at home. Steven turned Duff around and carefully put his fingers under the taller man's chin and leaned down to press a love-filled kiss onto his lips. At this moment both of them understood everything without words. Duff stood up hugging Steven and lifting him up to take him to his room. They didn't do anything else besides cuddling and a lot of kisses, but both of them felt safe and eventually, they fell asleep with Duff on his back pulling Steven close to him, almost on top of him. This is how they'll be found when you walked into Duff's room in the morning to tell him something.

What was that something?

Well after a lot of thinking you got up and went to Izzy's room. It's now or never you though.

Your pov.

My fingers softly collided with the wooden door and a rustling noise inside told me that Izzy heard it. This seemed like a really bad idea all of a sudden. Well, can't do anything about it now.

A soft "Who's there" could be heard from inside the room "Just me, can we talk?" I replied really quietly wondering if he heard me. "Yeah, come in"

"Iz, look I'm going to tell you something, ok? Please don't interrupt me."

"Alright"

"So you know when we met, I immediately found you extremely hot. Well, those feelings grew a lot since then, and when we kissed at the party, it just, felt so...right? I know you'll probably tell me that you were just drunk all of the times you kissed me, or just felt lonely. But Iz, I like you, a lot." Silence, that's all, he said nothing. Just staring at me with his signature poker face.

"I knew it, sorry for disturbing you, I'll just go now, forget it please!"

As I turned to walk away he grabbed my arms and pulled me back into a hug that soon turned into a kiss. When I opened my eyes again we were cuddling on his bed. This is where I felt home, felt alright, in his arms.

"I'm sorry for not responding love, it was just shocking to hear that you liked me. I thought you kissed me all those times just to anger Duff or Axl. I guess I just never thought you'd want to be with a junkie " Izzy whispered looking down at his arms sadly

"You thought wrong Iz, I don't give a fuck about what you do, well yes I don't like you doing drugs, but also you can get over that and to me you are perfect"

"Maybe it's too soon to say, but I love you y/n, I really do."

"I love you too Iz"

Outside pov.

Maybe they weren't so stupid after all, just scared of their feelings. The two blond boys, who understood each other without words. Izzy and you, on the other hand, needed words to understand each other fully.

But what matters is that in the end, everything was alright.

#steven x duff #izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin one shot #guns n' roses #axlrose #axl rose #steven adler #duff mckagan #slash gnr

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years ago

Text

Wasting Time | Diego Hargreeves

✦ pairing — Diego Hargreeves x Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 4.1k

✦ summary— you’re an anti-love loner who somehow managed to get matched to someone by an enthusiastic and friendly pro-love super person.

✦ warnings — some angst, I think this has some comedy, probably language, Asha (OC) is a sweetheart and I would die for her, fluff.

✦ a/n — this is a repost due to tagging issues from a week-ish ago

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Your mom left the restaurant in a hurry. She had a friend to meet up with, she reminded you a few times throughout the meal as she complained about your lack of romantic partner and friends.

Romance wasn’t for you. It didn’t even make sense. There wasn’t much to it, you had never seen it end well.

As for friendships, you had never been good at bonding with people. Back in college, you had hollow acquaintanceships at best, transactional relationships like most tended to be.

You were supposed to meet up with your mom to catch up after a couple of busy weeks, but you had sadly forgotten how intense she got with the topic of love.

She acted like you would never be happy on your own. Perhaps there was some truth in there, but if there was, she would have to take responsibility because she was complicit.

A random person tapped your shoulder. Craning your neck to the side to acknowledge them, you waited for them to say whatever it was they needed from you.

“Hi! I’m Asha!”

“I’m not interested,” you breathed out, looking past her to ask for the check.

Asha sat down in front of you. “I know you think love is a waste of time, you’re not the first and you won’t be the last, but all of you are wrong.”

You were sure Asha’s intentions were pure, but you didn’t need to hear fairytale-like arguments for love. And you definitely didn’t feel comfortable around eavesdroppers.

She followed you to the parking lot, spewing things about how beautiful romance was. Nothing you hadn’t heard before in songs and films. Which meant everything she was saying was bullshit.

Pulling the door of your car open, you snapped at her, “Could you please leave me alone?!”

You wished it had worked. She started following you throughout the day, smiling at you and asking you if you had changed your mind.

Surrounded by sweet smell and beautiful colors, you walked through the farmers market. You didn’t even understand how had she been able to follow you by foot when you were driving, but you wouldn’t let her ruin this.

“Strawberries are aphrodisiacs.”

“They taste good in smoothies,” you countered, paying for the berries and nodding as a thank you to the vendor.

Someone grabbed Asha by the arm. “What do you think you are doing?”

Asha gasped, smiling brightly. “Diego! This is perfect.”

A sharp sting went through your arm. You had always attracted mosquitoes, but their bites had never made you feel weird.

And boy, did you feel weird. The urge to hug the man in front of you overcame you, and as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, he opened his arms for you.

“He’s cuddly, right?” Asha’s sweet tone filled your ears.

Well, yes. His shirt was soft and he smelled good, extremely good — holy shit, why couldn’t other men smell like him?

“Your hair smells so good,” he blurted.

What a nice voice! His words and tone gave you goosebumps. Your stomach flipped as his arms tightened around your waist, prompting you to take a better whiff of his cologne.

You hoped he would never let go of you. It was hot outside yet you needed his warmth like you needed air.

Wait, what?

You pulled away from him, trying to find an excuse as to why you had hugged a stranger.

And why had you liked it?

Asha grabbed your hand and placed it on top of his. “This is Diego,” she introduced him to you, “he’s meant to be your romantic partner for life.”

Diego sighed, withdrawing his hand. “What have I told you about doing this?!”

“She wasn’t joking?” You asked, eyes going back and forth between the two.

He shook his head. “Have you heard of The Umbrella Academy?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Yeah. All of you are superheroes.”

“Her powers are like Cupid’s.”

“Cupid’s behavior was childish at first,” Asha defended herself. “Mine isn’t.”

You waited for the punchline of the joke. It never came. He was 100% serious and you were bound to him now.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to get to know each other!”

Her words hit you instantly. “We don’t know each other,” you exclaimed, “I’m sure we won’t miss the other or anything...”

“We can just avoid each other!” Diego completed your thought, nodding along. “Perfect. I’m sorry for my sister.”

You swatted a hand. “No biggie.”

Oh, how wrong you had been. You spent your entire afternoon eating strawberries and watching tv, wondering what Diego was doing.

The subsequent days weren’t too different. Not from the strawberry part, you ran out of those too quickly.

You had many questions, less about the bond or whatever it was called and more about him. What he liked and disliked, why he did so...

It was stupid and pointless.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

You stretched, whining. You couldn’t sleep, no matter which position you tried or what remedy from the Internet you put to the test.

A knock was bestowed upon the door. You whined again, throwing your sleep mask onto the bed and reaching for your pajama pants.

You turned the lights on as you crossed the apartment on your way towards the door. Noisily, you unlocked it.

Diego waved at you, trying to smile. He had a busted lip that was bleeding just like his eyebrow.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I— I d—don’t...”

You frowned, grabbing him by the front of his vest to pull him into the apartment. Closing the door, you softly asked, “Do you need water?”

Diego shook his head, lifting his hands for you to give him a moment. You extended an arm, inviting him to take a seat in the living room.

Observing how swollen his face was, you walked toward the kitchen and looked for something to put on the area.

Fuck, you should’ve saved that ice just in case. Oh, well, a pack of frozen cauliflower and broccoli would do.

You pressed the cold bag on his cheek, waiting for him to hold it to let go of it. He grunted a thank you.

“Did your vigilante thing go wrong?”

Diego moved the bag for a moment to speak properly. “I felt like shit and needed to see you. I feel better now.”

“Yeah, that’s called codependency.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

You sighed, throwing your head back to rest it against the wall. “I am not blaming you.”

”You’re taking this too calmly. How?”

“I’m used to being by myself all the time, it looks like you are not.”

“You don’t feel like you can’t breathe without me?”

“No.” His disappointed look was the worst thing you had ever been forced to see in your life. The pang in your chest stopped when you told him, “I feel better when I see you, though. Less anxious.”

“Why do you think it is?”

You shrugged. “Maybe love doesn’t feel the same for everyone. Or whatever Asha did to us.”

His heart skipped a beat. “That sounds nice. Us.”

“Are you going soft on me?”

Diego pursed his lips together, glaring at you. He immediately hissed.

You took the bag off his hand and put it back into the freezer. Exchanging the pack for a ziplock bag with pineapple, you carefully rested it on his jaw, making sure it touched his lip too.

“Baby...”

“Don’t,” you warned him, ignoring the thrill down your spine upon hearing the pet name.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Every night you waited for him to knock upon your door, and although he didn’t do it every day of the week, you always opened.

He had hugged you once or twice in greeting. Much to your dismay, it had felt nice.

This specific time he hugged you tighter, holding you for as long as you allowed him to. It saddened you, knowing this was the highlight of his day. And yours.

Before meeting him, you went to bed early and woke up at dawn. Now you happily skipped sleep to hang out with him.

Diego was nice when he wasn’t being overbearing, funny even. But you would never tell him that.

“Can’t you make your sister undo it?” You asked, opening a bottle of beer for him. His favorite brand, which you had started buying after he brought a pack a few weeks ago.

He took a swig of beer. “It can’t be undone, that’s the point.”

“I won’t feel cheated on if you find someone else,” you assured him.

“But I want you!”

“Diego, I’m not made for this, okay? It doesn’t matter if I want it or not.”

“I have the worst fucking luck in the world,” he lamented, gulping down half of his beverage. “My girlfriends either die, try to kill me and my family, or hate me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, the only boyfriend I’ve had got married to the cousin I hate the most.”

“He’s a dick. I’m hotter than him.”

Well, you weren’t going to deny that. Pouring yourself some wine, you lifted the glass to clink it with his bottle of beer.

“Is he the reason why you hate love?”

Putting the glass down after taking a gulp, you shook your head. “Not really. He was more like... the confirmation? I always thought it was a waste of time, and too absurd, and corny — but everyone I knew had a partner and I didn’t want to be left out. When he dumped me for my cousin and married her, I was proven right.”

“Well, duh.” Diego rolled his eyes playfully. “You didn’t date someone you liked.”

“I’ve never liked someone.”

“I’m offended.”

“Willingly, smartass.”

He pointed with his bottle. “What about your mom?”

“I tolerate her.”

“Dad?”

“Would kill him if I could get away with it.”

“Siblings?”

“I hate my stepbrother.”

“Asha?” He teased.

You confessed. “Oh, well, she’s nice. She means well, at least.”

“What about me?” He insisted.

Shrugging, you refilled your glass. “You’re not bad when you’re talking casually.”

“Is this about my stutter?”

“Of course not, I’m not an asshole. I just hate it when you talk about me like you need me to survive when you clearly don’t.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Closest thing you’ll get me to give you one.”

Giving you a cocky smile, he moved to sit down beside you on the floor. ”You didn’t deny it, you know?“

“Didn’t deny what?”

“That you’re my girlfriend.”

You shoved him playfully, shaking your head as you tried not to laugh. “Will you ever give up?”

“Realistically?”

Both of you chorused, “No.”

“Exactly.”

It was fabricated infatuation. He wanted an idealized version of you, like everyone did when they had crushes only to find out everything they like about their significant other or love interest is a lie made up by their own brains.

Leaving the glass to the side, you drank straight from the bottle. “Would you like me even if Asha hadn’t...”

“Yes.”

You chuckled incredulously, “Why?”

“You’re smart, responsible, really pretty — and believe or not, you’re nice.”

You cupped his cheek, blinking rapidly. His skin was soft to the touch, a little warm too. Diego leaned forward, holding your chin between his index and thumb. His lips were so close, you could practically feel his bottom lip on your upper lip.

Fully realizing what was going on as your eyes threatened to lie closed, you turned your head to the side. Your hand fell to his shoulder, middle finger grazing his neck.

“Stop leading me on!”

“I can’t help it!”

“Just give in,” he whispered on your cheek. “I won’t break your heart.”

“I will break yours.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“You just complained because I lead you on.”

“And you said it wasn’t on purpose. People make mistakes in stressful situations.”

You shook your head, completely moving away from his touch as you stood up. “Feel free to crash on the couch for the night.”

Diego didn’t say anything, but you heard him leave minutes later from your bedroom.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Asha had insisted on befriending you. She wasn’t bad company — although too bubbly and jumpy from what you were used to, she was willing to tone it down for you.

As bad as it sounded, she also served as a distraction. And who were you kidding? It was nice to have a friend.

You waited for her to finish her ice cream cone to speak, mostly because you were scared she would stamp it on your face.

“Would you find a way to undo it if I admit to having understood the importance of love?”

Asha smiled, playing with her hands on her lap, on top of the yellow skirt you had suggested would fit her perfectly. “Why would I undo it if you understand that now?”

Focusing your eyes on the dogs playing on the grass, you admitted, “I don’t like it, I feel weak. And having someone only care about me because of your influence doesn’t help.”

“I can’t match people who are incompatible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? That Diego and I are meant to be together because of some sort of fate?”

She giggled. “No, you just fit well together. But maybe you want it to be different...”

“I just want to have control over this, Asha! I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Why?” She tilted her head as she asked. It was like the idea was foreign to her.

“Because I miss him!” Your voice lowered then, “And I know he misses me too. He has to whether he likes it or not.”

“But you want him to do it on his own.”

You nodded, ashamed, as you felt her bright eyes on the side of your face.

“I don’t influence or manipulate what people think or feel, (Name),” she explained, resting a warm hand on your thigh in attempts to comfort you. “I only match people who will feel things similarly. That’s the gift I’ve given you and Diego, I’m sorry you haven’t been able to see it like that.”

That wasn’t comforting at all. Not now. If she had said it earlier... meh, it wouldn’t have worked. She knew you well, it seemed.

Turns out you weren’t as closed off as you liked to think.

Asha grabbed your hand, standing up as she looked at you with those big eyes of hers. They shone with determination, and for the first time since you befriended her, you felt a little scared of what she would do.

But you trusted her. Standing up, you made sure your cellphone was in your pocket and allowed her to drag you wherever she wanted to take you.

Asha made a few stops. You saw her use her powers on two gals who were clearly on a friend-date at a restaurant. According to Asha, they both were scared of telling the other how they felt. Childhood friends, she explained.

The other stop was at a coffee shop where she ordered one of those extremely sweet frappes. She made you taste it, and although you weren’t a fan and would never order something like that, you had to admit you were starting to see the appeal.

But the third stop... oh, boy, that one was unexpected. You stared up at the gymnasium’s sign, confused and a little bit offended.

“Are you implying I should start working out?”

Asha snickered. “I’m strongly suggesting you should talk to Diego.”

Right, he worked at a gym — how could you have forgotten? Scratch the unexpected part, this was the most Asha thing ever.

The place was busy with people from all genders, some of them were taking laps and others were training on the rings.

“Okay, (Name),” you whispered to yourself, “you can do this. How hard can it be?”

Too hard. The closer you got to where he was standing, the hardest you found it. Embarrassing yourself had never been something you had been through, ignoring people for decades had given you a lot of advantages and that had been your personal favorite.

You turned on your heels, determined to leave and never come back. This was such a bad idea! You were in his territory, vulnerable, and only accompanied by his sister who would probably be on his side.

“Can I help you?”

You jumped, immediately turning around. Fuck. Your throat locked up. Diego nodded upward, encouraging you to speak. He looked good, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top — all black as he usually did.

You couldn’t look at him in the eyes as you examined the place, looking for Asha. It didn’t look like a place where she would enjoy herself, but no one ever knew with her; she was full of surprises.

“She left already,” Diego deadpanned.

Your mouth hung open. You weren’t really surprised, but words weren’t willing to come out. This was the first time you had tried to articulate a meaningful apology.

The fake ones were so easy! You were even able to get poetic with those, making promises you didn’t intend to keep to people you weren’t going to see ever again because there had never been a reason to stay.

“You didn’t go to the market yesterday.” He tried to say it casually.

“I went to visit my mom.”

“Oh, I see tolerance is going well.”

You huffed a laugh. “Something like that. Not much luck with my stepbrother yet, though.”

“At least you’re trying.”

“I should be more open, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

You allowed silence to settle. You needed it to, it had been your best friend for so long that you didn’t know how to cope without its looming presence.

You were nervous, this was your only chance to apologize. What if he didn’t accept the apology?

“I’m sorry, Diego,” you mumbled, “I didn’t want things to go this way.”

“You didn’t want things to go at all.”

“Why would I?” You didn’t want to fight him, but you were desperate for him to see things from your perspective.

“There are a lot of reasons. I don’t think people can be happy completely alone.”

“Okay, you’re right, but you wanted me to jump into something more. Such a big leap when I’ve been living and doing most things on my own since I was 19 is scary.”

“Want,” he corrected you.

You both stood with your backs against the wall, watching the people training as they threw punches. He crossed his arms, focused on the youngest of the trainees.

You turned to look at him. “I know Asha can’t undo the bond, but you don’t need this type of connection to date someone.”

“Maybe that’s why it never worked.” Diego shrugged, sticking his bottom lip out. “I like how this feels. He added, “When you’re not turning me down.”

“So never?” you joked.

Diego chuckled, eyes still on the young trainee. He looked like a teen, no older than 15. “When we talk like this. Or when you empty your freezer to treat my swollen face...”

“Oh, so you only like me for my frozen veggies.”

“God, I wish.” Diego placed his hand on your shoulder, “Give me a moment. Don’t go!”

Nodding, you watched him approach the teen. They exchanged a few words — well, Diego seemed to be questioning the poor boy who only gave short verbal answers or moved his head to reply.

Diego threw his arm around the teen, pulling him close into a half-hug. Both got closer to you as Diego guided the teen towards the exit, still chatting.

“Thank you, Diego,” the teen said with a nod as Diego withdrew his arm from his shoulders. “Good night, Ms,” he acknowledged you.

“Good night,” you answered politely.

Diego smiled, huffing through his nose.

“Has he been training here for a while?” you asked once the young trainee had left.

Standing closer to you now, he told you more about the teen, “Brandon started last month. He’s a good kid. Stubborn, but his heart is in the right place.”

“Like you?”

Diego lifted his eyebrows, unable to hide his smile. “Did you just compliment me?”

“What would you do if I said yes?”

“You won’t like my answer.”

You bit your bottom lip. “Try me.”

He freed your lip from your teeth with his thumb, caressing it. “Don’t tempt me, baby.”

Your face heated up. God, the things Diego was doing to you...

Grinning, he bopped your nose. “You are adorable.”

“I am not trying to be adorable,” you said, scrunching your nose.

“That’s part of the charm.” He looked up, checking the time on the clock above you. “I’m technically free in less than an hour.”

“Don’t you have other things to do?”

Diego wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Rolling your eyes, you hit him on the shoulder with your fist. “The other things!”

“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed his shoulder even though you hadn’t hit him hard. “I can do them even later.”

“We can talk even later,” you tried to reason with him.

He tutted. “I know you, and you’ll find an excuse.”

You didn’t understand what Diego had done to you, or how Asha’s powers really worked, but you were willing to compromise, to show him you wanted to talk to him and fix things.

So accompanied by a sigh, you made a gesture with your hands, indicating that you would wait for him to be done.

You had never been so eager to spend time with someone, not even as a child when your neighbor would come over for a play date.

Diego casually offered his hand to you, patiently waiting for you to either take it or reject him.

Unsure, you inched your hand closer to his. He gazed down, taking the trajectory of your hand in. Sighing contently when your palm finally rested against his, he wiggled your fingers open.

His fingers fit between yours perfectly, his palm was warm and calloused, slightly scarred. Suddenly Asha’s judgment didn’t sound too bad.

Swinging your clasped hands, Diego asked more about what you had done the past week. You kept to yourself the part about missing him, but shared everything else — including that horrible fight with your dad, and the movie Asha made you see at a midnight screening.

He told you about his apartment-hunting journey and how tedious it was. You recalled his offhand comment about wanting to move out of the boiler room, so you kept to yourself the fact that he would need another job to be able to afford it.

Ruining the night was the last thing you wanted to do.

Dropping the keys onto the coffee table, you walked directly into the kitchen. He followed you, turning the lights on.

Diego opened your fridge to take a drink out and chuckled happily. “Aww, you bought my favorite beer even though we were mad at each other.”

You stood behind him, reaching for the jug of water as you corrected him, “I wasn’t mad.”

“Well, I was.”

“Not anymore?”

“Nope.”

You smiled to yourself, pouring water into a glass. He grabbed the jug from your grasp, storing it in the fridge for you.

Mirroring your smile —outshining it in your opinion— he said, “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re flirty today.”

“I wasn’t flirting.” Diego feigned offense.

Frowning, you picked your glass and took a gulp of water. Asha tired you out earlier by dragging you all over town, but compared with how disappointing hearing him say that was, the tiredness was fine.

Placing the bottle on the counter, he clarified, “I meant that I was only stating the obvious.”

You put the glass down. “I am not used to this, sorry.”

He rested his hands on your arms. “It’s okay. I just want to know something...”

You hummed. “Anything.”

“What made you change your mind?”

You fiddled with the unbuttoned shirt he had thrown on top of his tank top. “I can’t sleep when you don’t visit.”

“That can’t be it.”

You conceded, “It’s not everything, but it sums it all up.”

“How slow do you want to go?”

You shrugged. “Do I look like I have a clue?”

“No,” he laughed. Diego inched a hand up to your neck, thumb rubbing your cheek. “Can I kiss you? I promise you can push me off you whenever you want, I won’t get mad.”

“Okay.”

Softly, he pressed his lips against yours. The slow kiss was a nice change from what you had experienced in the past, Diego wasn’t kissing you to get something more out of you or to forget about somebody else — Diego was kissing you because he wanted to do it, because he wanted you.

You pulled him closer, gripping the collar of his shirt. He smiled into the kiss, dropping his other hand to your waist.

Having Diego this close was everything but a waste of time, you decided, kissing him harder as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x plus size reader #diego hargreeves #the umbrella academy

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eat0crow · 5 years ago

Note

Cliche but can I request flower shop owner Marinette with gang boi Jason?

Dear sweet Anon, you have no idea how weak I am for cliche tropes. I took some liberties here seeing as Red Hood is already a sorta gang leader and just used that! I hope you like my rambly headcanons! I had so many ideas for this au that I really had to try to hold back.

Ground Zero

1) There’s a flower shop right on the edge of Jason’s territory that’s essentially become an urban legend.

No one is actually sure how exactly it’s still standing, it borders two rival gangs, Red Robin’s usual patrol route, and Jason’s terf. There have been at least three gang wars raging on the same street, yet still Miraculous stands as the one neutral spot in all of Gotham. It’s a cute shop, don’t get Jason wrong, but the only miraculous thing about it is that no one has even tried to claim it.

He brings it up once, the keyword once. Because the shop has stood as neutral ground for at least a century, and no one wants to be the one to break that streak. The shop is also cursed apparently, or at least protected by some malevolent force. The building lost a shingle once in the ’80s to a member of the False Facers, and the very next day saw Gotham PD hauling in at least two-thirds of the Black Mask’s operation.

Which is probably exaggerated, right? None of the minor drug lords under Jason want to get into it. The Black Mask doesn’t want to get into it. (He clams up the moment Jason tells him the shop re-opened, apparently, it had closed a year after the shingle incident)

Miraculous, as well as the parking lot it sits on, is the ground zero of Gotham. No crime goes into the lot, no crime goes out. The pots are never tipped over, no one tries to steal even a single rose from the display. No one touches the cute building, even if it’s painted an obnoxious pastel pink that stands out like a sore thumb in the Gotham night. At least, as far as everyone knows—Jason is still kinda skeptical about that. Really, it’s the perfect set up for a smuggling ring.

Tim is there sometimes as Red Robin. All the time really, at least twice a week. Jason has caught him more than once staked out with a pair of binoculars in the windows. A couple of times he even catches him helping the clerk repot plants. Which, yeah, Jason’s met Tim a time or two, he doesn't make a habit of sticking around his family, but the kid never came off as the gardening type.

It’s especially funny though, to see the pictures of Red Robin in a pink apron behind the counter trending on twitter.

He’s tried to go in a handful of times, to offer the owner his protection and whatnot. But each time he tries he forgets what he’s doing before he even turns the handle. Whoever runs this place must have the best luck in the world because this shit has been happening since it was built.

You’re a wayward gang member attempting to talk to the owner, you end up forgetting what you’re doing mid-action, and only start to remember five days later. The building is damaged, so is whatever scheme you’ve been planning. Actually in the shop when you decide to talk business, nope, it’s time for the most inconvenient phone call of your life.

“Why Dick, did you have to call me? I was so close.”

“Jason, are you crying?”

“I finally made it into the door. I’ve been trying for months to get in. But no, your ass gets stuck in your suit, and suddenly it’s time to call Jason. Nope, lose my number.”

2) Apparently everyone, including the fucking demon spawn, has been to Miraculous.

They all get kind of quiet when he brings it up though, Alfred actually leaves the room. Jason may have issues with Bruce, and Dick, and Tim, and don’t even get him started on Damian, but Alfred’s always been the neutral party for them. He’s always been the one they go to, no matter what. Upsetting Alfred is a capital offense. Jason feels...shitty about it.

“Alfred used to go, and get a bouquet there every weak after you died,” Dick tells him, folding his hands together, and settling in. Tim looks uneasy, and far more awkward than usual—which is saying something. “He’d get some white lilies to put on your grave. I went with him a few times, but he hasn’t been back since. I think the shop reminds him of it. When you were...you know.”

“Oh.” Jason really feels like an asshole.

“Yeah, I can’t say I’ve been back either.” Dick rubs the back of his neck like he’s admitting to something secret. “It used to be on my patrol route, back when I was first Robin. It always used to creep me out so I'd avoid it.”

“Really, Grayson,” Damian says with the same air of condescending superiority he always has.

“Hey, back in those days it was an abandoned building. The one that the witch owned! I don’t know about you, but I don’t fuck with witches. No thank you! I like my limbs.”

Jason might actually remember something like that, it’s hard. Like all the memories from before are hard, but he thinks back to being a kid. To growing up in a scummy neighborhood, and hearing people talk about the witching house that no one was allowed near. The one spot Squatters and Junkies, no matter how desperate, wouldn’t step foot in.

“It’s not all that bad,” Tim says. “My mom remembered when it was open the first time around. Mr. Fu was really nice, he used to let her play in the pots.”

“That aside,” Dick says fixing Jason with a half-crazed look. “It re-opened like a month after you died, so yeah, I went there with Alfred a lot. Like once a month a lot. The shop has this thing. You go in, and you’re instantly wrapped up in this nostalgic warm-fuzzy-reliving-my-childhood feeling. It’s weird.”

Tim stares. “I think that’s a you problem. I go in all the time, and yeah, the shop has a nice vibe, but it’s more like a you’re-safe-here thing.”

“You’re both, as usual, utterly wrong.” Damian sniffs. “If anything, the shop feels like coming home.”

The entire table turns to stare at him with wide unbelieving eye’s. Jason can hardly believe his ears...did Damian really just say something like that. The shocked look on even Dick’s face goes a long way in saying just how much no one can believe something so well adjusted came out of the demon spawn’s mouth.

Damian’s blush is priceless, his stutter—yes it’s a stutter no matter how much he denies it—is even better. “I mean to say. It feels familiar. The shop, you walk in, even for the first time, and you feel like you’ve walked through the door hundreds of times.”

Which, huh, because. “I always thought it felt like a warning. You step one foot onto the lot, and it feels like the walls themselves are daring you to start shit.”

3) Despite the hype that's built up around Jason going in, his first visit—No, Marinette that one didn’t count I literally just turned the door handle—is really anticlimactic.

It works like this, Roy asks him to pick up flowers, because Valentine's Day is today, and Kori will know what he's doing the second he tries to make up some lame excuse. Jason will never know how the man could ever be such a bad liar. As far as Kori knows, Jason is doing a typical supply run. Which, he is doing a supply run, even if the thought of cheesy romantic comedy cliches makes him sick.

All the same, Jason takes his role as best bro seriously, even though he has doubts about being able to complete this task. If his previous 52 failures are anything to go by, Miraculous hates him. There are only so many times a man can get maimed before he comes to the conclusion that the building itself has it out for him.

The hornets were what sold him. Not the bees, the hornets.

So with the air of a man who has just been sent out to war, Jason puts on this thickest jacket, his gloves, leaves his phone behind—even if attempt 34 taught him that was a really stupid idea—and braces himself to step inside. Maybe it’s because this is the first time Jason has gone into the flower shop for actual flowers. Maybe his luck is improving. Maybe...maybe the universe is setting him up for something even worse. Either way, it’s the first time the hair on the back of his neck doesn’t stand up the moment his foot hits the floor.

The girl at the counter is cute, just around his age with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. That says something, because Jason has met Superman. That man's eyes are literally otherworldly. But Marinette’s, Jason has a suspicion this is the Mari Tim is always talking about, her eyes look like they’re glowing.

Jason realizes he’s been standing in the doorway staring, way too hard, when Marinette, that’s what her name tags says, clears her throat. With an air of confidence—Jason is a firm believer in the inherent power of bull shitting your way to success—he walks up to the counter.

“I’m looking for a bouquet,” Her stare is piercing and Jason swears it burns all the way down to his soul. “For Valentine's day. One with roses, and all that shit.”

Marinette huffs, and points to a depressingly empty display shelf. “You, and just about everyone else. Did you place an order?”

“Did I place an..” Jason trails off under his breath. “Please tell me you have something with the name Roy Harper in your registry.”

Marinette takes a moment to glance down, to ruffle through her papers. “I’m sorry, I only have one left, and its got the last name Grayson on it.”

Jason sees his life flash devastatingly fast across his eyes. It ends with him being torn to shreds by one of Roy’s homemade bombs when he comes back empty-handed. There won’t even be enough of him left to throw in a Lazarus pit. Nope, he’ll be sidewalk chalk.

So really he feels no guilt in fleshing his most charming smile, the one that always makes the old ladies coo, and saying. “Perfect, I’m here to pick that one up.”

Marinette takes one look at him draped over the counter, and bursts out laughing. Today is not a good day for Jason’s ego. “I thought you were Roy Harper.”

“No, I’m Dick Grayson.” The words are bitter in his mouth. “But the bouquet is for my friend, and I wasn’t sure what name he put it under.”

“Oh,” Marinette says, a smirk playing across her lips. “You think I was born yesterday. Sorry hon, but you’re not an alternative pick up, and I'll need to see some ID.”

“You expect me to show ID for flowers?..... Really?”

“Yes, I expect you to show ID when you’ve given me two different names, and those flowers are worth over a hundred dollars,” Marinette bites back. “Sorry, but that’s been paid in full, and I’m not going to lose a customer.”

“Okay,” Jason says, taking two crisp bills out of his wallet. It hurts because Roy gave him a twenty, and Jason will always be a cheap bastard at heart. Nevertheless, he likes Kori, she deserves this, even if Roy, who will be begging for mercy later, does not. He has to very consciously remove his hand after sliding them over. The urge to snatch them back is strong. “Listen, I really need that fucking bouquet. I am prepared to pay you double the price Grayson paid.”

Marinette actually looks offended. “Just because everyone else in this city is okay with being bribed doesn’t mean I am. You can keep your money.”

“Everyone has a price.” Jason gives her a look. “Name it.”

“Well, I don’t,” Marinette snaps, reaching down for her phone. “You can take your money, and fuck off. Before I get Red Robin over here to flush you out.”

“And here I was, thinking this was neutral territory.”

“It is.” Marinette stiffens. “This place isn’t under Red Robin’s protection, but he’s still my friend. I won’t hesitate to get him over here.”

“How about this then. The bouquet for protection. I can get Red Hood to claim this place.”

“What part of neutral didn’t you get?” Marinette asks, leaning over the counter and getting into his space. From here, just inches apart, her eyes are iridescent. Blue light toxically dripping out of a cracked glow stick. “Miraculous doesn’t get involved in your shit. You all want to wage war on each other? You want to pedal drugs? You want to smuggle shit? That’s cool, but you keep that away from my fucking shop. Miraculous doesn't get involved, you can all kill each other outside.”

She’s kind of terrifying up close. If Jason wasn’t convinced she would disembowel him, he’d be tempted to kiss her. Consent, however, is sexy as fuck.

Jason knows when he’s fighting a losing battle. “Is there any way. Anyway in hell, that I can get my hands on those fucking flowers?”

“Yeah,” Marinette says sitting back down. “You can call Grayson, and have him give them to you. But aside from that, I’ve seen a lot of shit. Sorry buddy, but you can’t buy me or scare me into anything.”

“I’ll call the sorry bastard up right now.”

“I’m not giving you his number.”

“I don’t need you to give me his number, I have it right…” Jason trails off, suddenly he remembers leaving his phone behind.

4) Jason is a petty asshole who has learned that the secret to getting into the flower shop is to think flowers.

Listen, Jason had to make do with drugstore flowers, and Roy’s disappointed puppy eyes for a month after being kicked out on his ass. To add insult to injury, Tim tracked him down two days later, as he was mid drug bust, to tell him to stay away from Marinette.

Okay, it’s not like he hadn’t already been planning to go back, frankly, the shop is a strategic masterpiece. Half of its cred as an urban legend comes from the fact that whoever claimed it would be given an instant power-up. It’s the One Ring to rule them all. Jason has to go back, and convince Marinette that the Red Hood is the one to ally with. He has to.

So yeah he’s going to go back anyway, but now he really wants to. Because Tim, his replacement, dared him. Maybe a bigger person would back down, what with all the external forces building up around the shop, the legend, the neutrality, the many failed attempts, Tim somehow having a vested interest…well, Jason has never been the bigger person.

Not by a long shot.

The first three times he attempts to return, Marinette meets him at the door. She’s quick about flipping the sign from open to closed. Jason, the first time, had tried turning the handle, whatever magic makes that building hate him, makes it lock up the second the sign changes. It’s not Marinette, Jason watched her. Her hands never touched the lock.

The first person he complains to is Roy, of course, who actually gives him the idea. Roy is a genius sometimes. So attempt four ends with him buying a single sunflower. It’s gaudy as all hell, and also the first thing his hand touched after he spent an hour trying to get Marinette’s attention.

She apparently will only talk to him in the brief thirty seconds she spends cashing him out. Which, yeah, that’s fair.

And so it begins. Every day except Tuesday, the only day the shop is closed, Jason goes in, buys a single sunflower, and talks up the Red Hood.

Even if Miraculous never comes into his fold, this will all have been worth it just to have seen the look on Tim’s face the first time he comes in just as Jason's buying his daily flower.

There’s a small hole burned into his wallet, but Kori loves sunflowers.

Jason’s not the only regular, but he’s the most frequent, by the end of his fourth month he knows all the other regular’s sob stories, and everyone and their mother thinks he's sweet on Marinette. That may be the kind of true by this point. He’s worn her down to where she will talk to him as he browses. Even if she also complains that, “It’s pointless. I already have your sunflower set aside.”

Month six marks a distinct turning point in their relationship. He was upgraded from General-Creep to Recurring-Menace to Okay-I-Guess-We’re-Sorta-Friends-Now a while ago. Month six is the month he gains the title of Permanent-Fixture. It’s marked by him walking in and Marinette forcing an apron on him.

“I told Red Robin when he started coming by, that if he was going to hang around than he needed a reason to. So if you want to hang in Miraculous you’re going to work in Miraculous.”

“Unpaid labor is illegal.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just called volunteering.”

5) Getting together actually takes a while.

Jason is relentless when it comes to his recruitment pitches, but he has standards for fuck's sake. No woman actually enjoys it when men flirt with them on the clock. There’s a whole power imbalance thing that makes him sick to his stomach.

Sure Marinette can take care of herself. She’s a force of nature. Jason had offered to help carry potting soil for her once. One time. That was before he saw her lift the thirty pound bag over her shoulder like an empty sack of rice. Marinette can take care of herself, she just won’t.

Jason has seen more than one scummy fuck harass her. She gets quiet….she loses her confidence, and it’s just so wrong to see a person as strong as Marinette look small. He’s not sure what about blatant flirting and bad pick up lines bothers her so much but—Marinette can never know, and they’ll never tell her that the Red Hood tracked each one of them down. Threats are beautiful things. They just make it all come together.

He is a gentleman, even after he starts working with her. While co-workers flirting with each other isn’t as bad, it’s still kind of awful. The problem is that Marinette is always working, she never leaves Miraculous. Even on her off days.

So Jason, never finds the right time to ask her out himself. All the regulars already think they’re dating. His brothers think they’re dating. Alfred, Alfred thinks they’re dating after walking into the shop one time since Jason’s resurrection. He’s thankful his brothers gave him a heads up—not. Alfred walks in to find him behind the counter with a fluffy pink apron on, even his refined British manners are tested. Jason just knows he’s laughing. He knows.

It happens like this, Jason teams up with Batman and Co. to help with a standard smuggling ring. Nothing difficult, the only reason it should have required all of them was because of the shipment size. It should have been easy. It had been easy.

That is until the Joker shows up, Jason freezes, and takes a bullet straight to the stomach.

Stomachs bleed...a lot.

He doesn’t remember much of what happened after that. Stomachs also hurt a lot, and it’s hard to think coherently when you’re in excruciating pain. Jason, blacked out shortly after Dick started putting pressure on the wound. For future reference, while stopping the bleeding might be important, it hurts like fucking hell.

Marinette is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. She’s hunched over herself in the plastic chair next to his bed. Someone, probably Dick or Alfred, draped a blanket over her. She looks vastly out of place, like the room itself is sucking the life out of her. The lighting makes her skin almost translucent.

The second thing he sees is the sunflowers covering every inch of the hospital room. There must have been a couple dozen, at least. It was probably closer to a hundred if not more. Despite the pain that comes with laughing, Jason can’t help himself.

His laughter alerts the nurse, who alerts his family. Apparently, they’ve all been camping out in the waiting room. Much comfier couches there. His family wakes Marinette, who turns her piercingly otherworldly eyes on him.

Marinette stays quiet through all his family’s fussing. She stays quiet even after that. All she does is stare. Jason doesn’t think she’s actually seeing him.

“I didn’t think I missed this many days,” Jason jokes, gesturing to the multitude of flowers wrapped around every available surface.

“No, you didn’t.” Marinette’s answer is curt. She’s distracted, Jason really wishes he knew what she was seeing.

“Not a fan of Hospitals?” Jason tries.

Marinette blinks. The cloudy look on her face disappearing as she shakes her head. “No, I really can’t stand them.”

“Me either.” Jason feels an intense desire to continue the conversation, if only to keep Marinette from closing up again. “You know, you didn’t have to visit me.”

“I wanted to,” Marinette says. “Your brother called, and told me what happened. I came by just after you were finishing up in surgery.”

“What about the shop?”

Jason has been working at Miraculous—volunteering because Marinette still doesn’t pay him—for months. He’s invested in the place now.

"It can be closed for a few days,” Marinette says, reaching over to take his hand. Jason lets her, he’s always hated hospitals. It's gotten worse since he came back. The comfort is welcome. “This is more important.”

Jason wants to say something, to take his shot, and ask her out. Because she’s just as important to him, but it feels wrong so, he settles with, “You’re a really good friend Marinette.”

He does his best to ignore the way the words choke him.

“I think,” Marinette starts, only to stop herself. There’s a moment of internal debate before she continues, “I think we both know we’re a little more than just friends.”

6) Jason never does claim Miraculous, it remains perfectly neutral, despite having the Bat-Family practically living out of the apartment upstairs.

“Hey, do you think now that we're dating you can convince Tim to come by out of costume?”

Jason blanks. “What?”

“Tim, do you think you can get him to stop dropping by as Red Robin so much. People are starting to think Miraculous has been claimed as part of Batman’s terf.”

Jason does the most logical thing he can think of. He buries his face in his hands, and groans. “Why did you have to figure it out?”

“Was I…not supposed to?”

“No, no you weren’t. How did you?”

“Jason, there’s only one person you hate as much as Tim, and that’s Red Robin. I’ve seen how you look at both of them. No one makes your eyes scream murder as much as he does. Not even Dick.”

“Oh God,” Jason says wiping a hand across his face. “Does that mean—”

“That I know you’re the Red Hood?” Marinette asks, cutting him off. “Hmm, I’ve known that for longer. Probably since you first started coming around consistently. At first, I thought you had like, the biggest boner for the guy, but then you seemed really into me and well, you talked him up way too much to either not have a crush on him or be him so, I connected the dots.”

#maribat #jasonette #crow writes #I am powered by spite #Drabble drabble where this is 3k #flowershop au #headcanon #jason todd #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng

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girlsgonemildblog · 4 years ago

Text

Remember Parties? - Emily in Paris, Episode 7 Recap (Spoilers!!)

Poster from IMDB

While on her way to work, Emily spots Sylvie checking out at a clothing store and obnoxiously bangs on the window to get her attention. Of course, Sylvie is horrified, but she allows Emily to walk with her to the office, anyway. Sylvie tells Emily she's going away next week but won't say where (a gossiping Julien reveals later that it's to St. Bart's with Antoine), but first, for this week, she puts Emily in charge of babysitting an American actress named Brooklyn Park who is hosting an event for them.

At the office, Emily tells Luc and Julien about how she loves Brooklyn Park, who is known for Romantic Comedies. The boys tell her that Rom-Coms are not very popular in Paris because they prefer a "French Ending" — one of tragedy. Julien also says that happy endings are American, which seemed very relevant to this show; it's clearly a very Americanized version of life in Paris, and all the episodes have a happy ending. Luc finished by telling Emily, "thinking you can escape life is your problem. You can never escape life. Ever." Maybe someone should get Luc a therapist?

Emily picks up Brooklyn (Carlson Young) and brings her to her hotel. Emily mentions to Brooklyn that marijuana is "highly illegal" in France, which actually shocked me. I even googled it to see if it was true - it is. France seems like the kind of place that would be really chill about drug use, but I guess not. When they get to the hotel suite, Brooklyn immediately gets undressed. Emily tries to go over the agenda with her, but Brooklyn kicks her out of the room because she "has to" masturbate after a long flight.

Emily has dinner with Camille and Mindy at Gabriel's restaurant. Gabriel comes out to sit with them, and Camille announces that Gabriel has the opportunity to buy the restaurant. Before they can celebrate, though, Gabriel clarifies that he can't actually afford to do so, but Camille counters that he could afford it if he accepted money from her parents. It's awkward.

The next day, Emily takes Brooklyn to Pierre Cadault's dress shop to find something to wear to the party - finding a way to promote one client at a party for another is an actually good marketing idea from Emily. Color me shocked. While Brooklyn is in the dressing room, Emily meets Pierre's nephew, Mathieu. Mathieu tells Emily that he is in charge of the business side of the company, and Pierre did not actually have the ability to hire Savoir for marketing. He agrees to put them on a one-month trial but tells he she has to make "memorable posts". Telling a marketing professional to make memorable content is the equivalent of telling your surgeon not to accidentally kill you; it's literally the main goal of their job.

At the party, the company hosting, Fourtier (clearly a play on Cartier), makes Emily sign a waiver for the two million dollar watch that Brooklyn is wearing. Gabriel attends the party, but Mindy and Camille are both conveniently out of town. In addition to this, Antoine shows up with his wife. Emily runs off to warn Sylvie, who tries to act nonchalant and asks "who cares", but it's pretty evident that she does. Later on in the night, Emily finds herself in the middle of a conversation with Sylvie, Antoine, Antoine's wife, and Gabriel. The wife (whose name I do not believe was said) plays a trick, saying she was accidentally copied on an email about a trip that Antoine was planning to surprise her with to St. Bart's next week. It is obvious she knows the truth, but Antoine plays along. Sylvie is upset and leaves, and Emily chases after her. When she finds Sylvie outside, she again puts up a stone wall and pretends nothing bothers her. Out of nowhere, Brooklyn appears in a car window, says goodbye, and then drives off, still wearing the expensive watch.

Gabriel and Emily call her driver to find out where she's going and then chase her down at a club. Instead of getting the watch from her and returning it to Fourtier, Emily and Gabriel do shots with Brooklyn and start partying with her. The two dance horribly, like literally the worst dancing that has ever happened, and then they make out. It took literally one shot for her to get to this point. Clean it up, Emily.

Emily comes to her senses and stops making out with her friend's boyfriend. She then notices she has a bunch of missed calls from Fourtier. They call again, and she picks up this time. The man asks her where the fuck their $2 million watch is, and Emily says she didn't know it was supposed to be returned immediately. She is really just too dumb. She goes to get Brooklyn but discovers she has disappeared, still wearing the watch. Emily begins to freak out, but luckily there's a man (Gabriel) to save the day.

Emily rides on the back of Gabriel's Vespa without a care in the world, but when they arrive at Brooklyn's hotel, she is suddenly an anxious mess again. The man working at the front desk refuses to let her up to Brooklyn's room (she literally had already been up there and knew where it was. Why she didn't just walk right past that guy is beyond me), and the two of them decide there is nothing else they can do and go to get a drink at the hotel bar.

Seated in moody blue lighting, Emily stresses about the very real chance she gets fired the next day. Gabriel tells her that maybe it won't be so bad to lose her job, since now she can travel and fall in love. Do men not realize that women have career aspirations and life goals that don't involve men?

Emily changes the subject to ask Gabriel about buying the restaurant, and he says he doesn't want to take the money from Camille's parents because he doesn't want to be "owned". I have a feeling that he also doesn't want to be that committed to Camille, considering he keeps kissing Emily. Sylvie then finds Emily flirting at a bar rather than doing her job and gets her back on task. The two women go back to the hotel clerk, and Sylvie intimidates the fuck out of him, and he brings them up to Brooklyn's room.

There, they find Brooklyn in bed with some random guy, and Sylvie grabs the watch from the nightstand. The dress Brooklyn was wearing happens to be tossed on the floor in a perfect flat-lay, and Emily snaps a shot for Cadault's Instagram. In the elevator back to the lobby, Emily confronts Sylvie about the drama with Antoine and his wife. Sylvie says she doesn't want 100% from a man or to give 100% to a man because happy endings don't actually exist. She tells Emily there is no such thing as a knight and a white horse, and as she says this, the two women step out of the hotel to Gabriel, leaning against his pearly white scooter. Sylvie rolls her eyes and walks off.

Gabriel asks Emily if she wants to go share a crepe and watch the sunrise. Her conversation with Sylvie made her realize that she does want 100%, and hanging out with a guy with a girlfriend is not the way to get it. She tells him, "I'm not somebody who can share a crepe. I want the whole crepe." I could not agree more about not sharing dessert. Fuck anyone who asks if I want to split a dessert.

The next morning, the photo Emily took of the dress gets almost 200,000 likes on Instagram, and Mathieu messages her that she "made Pierre Cadault sexy again." I guess she did know how to do her job, asshole. Of course, based on the first 6 episodes of this show, I kind of understand why he was doubtful.

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years ago

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Choices - Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn - Part 25

Word Count: 2,827

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language

Notes: Thanks for your patience on this one. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Reading!!!!

Choices Masterlist

You drove around aimlessly for the next forty-five minutes, trying to figure out what you were going to do. Part of you wanted to head straight to Tyler and confront him about Tara and Christopher, but that wouldn't do either of them any good. You needed to come up with a plan, but most of all you needed to talk to someone about this. How you ended up in Jamie's driveway you had no clue. It was as if the car had a mind of it's on and just went on autopilot straight there.

The fact that you didn't get out of your vehicle though spoke volumes to how you were still hesitant to trust Jamie after he'd lied to you. It wasn't until he was knocking on your window, that you realized you'd been there for almost ten minutes. Jamie opened the door, so he could talk to you and you shut the car off. "(Y/N) are you ok?" Those simple words were your breaking point and you just started to bawl. "Oh, sweetheart." He leaned in, helping you out of the car so that he could hold you in his arms.

He held you for several minutes, just stroking your hair and making shushing noises. Once you finally calmed some, he pulled back to look into your tear-stained face. "I don't have to guess who this is about. What did he do now?"

You realized you were still standing in the driveway and didn't feel like putting on more of a show for the neighbors than you already had. "Do you mind if we go inside? I'll tell you everything."

"Of course, sorry." He laced your fingers together, then led you into the house that you once called home. As soon as you got to the living room, Jamie went to set down and pull you onto him, though thought better of it and instead had you sit beside him. "Tell me, what the asshole did now?"

"I don't even know where to start, Jame." He waited as you struggled to find the right words, however, there weren't any. "He has a son." Jamie looked at your stomach, and it occurred to you that he thought you were having a boy. "No, no. I still don't know what I'm having. He has like a living breathing son, with Tara."

"WHAT?" The inquiry and tone of his voice were exactly like yours when you first found out.

"I know."

"How? I mean, when? Shit, I don't know what I mean."

"I'm having a hard time with it myself." You took a deep breath, before starting at the beginning. "I saw Tara coming out of my doctor's office. Tyler was there waiting for her. I saw their exchange and knew something was up. Once he left, I asked her to meet me and she told me everything. He paid her to lie about cheating on me."

You went to continue, but he stopped you. "He lied that they weren't together?"

"Yeah, apparently the going rate is five thousand dollars." You shook your head in disbelief. "But that's not the worst of it. She got pregnant, and he pays her to keep quiet about it. Tara's afraid if I say something to Tyler, he'll quit giving money to her and the child."

"Oh my god." Those were your sentiments exactly. "I seriously don't know what to say. I'm in shock."

"I know, I was too when I found out." Part of you thought you still were. "I don't know what to do. I was supposed to meet him for our ultrasound, but I lied and told him it was canceled. I don't even know if I can look at him right now."

"You don't need to see him if you don't want to. We'll figure this out (Y/N). You know I'm here for you." His arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you close to his chest. Your phone rang then, Tyler's name popping up on the screen. "Don't answer it right now. You need to think about yourself and your baby."

Jamie was right. You hit the button and sent him to voicemail. Eventually, you were going to have to talk to him, just not now. "Look why don't you let me make you something to eat and we can pop in a movie and just forget about things for a little bit; just for a couple hours. Then we'll figure out what to do."

It kind of sounded like heaven. You'd been half sick from the news you received from Tara, but you knew that you needed to eat something, if only for the baby's sake. "Deal, but only if we can order something?"

The two of you debated about what to order then decided on Italian and put on a romantic comedy. You were midway through when you felt your eyes starting to get heavy. Jamie moved so that you could rest against his chest. It was all so familiar and comforting, and within minutes you were fast asleep against him. It was hours later that you were waking up, Jamie holding you in his arms, while he slept. In a dream haze, you let your mind drift off, to what it would be like if Jamie was your child's father and not Tyler. You knew both men loved you, there was no question in that. Though you were now afraid that with Tyler, your child could become just like Christopher. What if some other girl turned his head? You and your baby could be in the same situation, dependent on Tyler for support. It would never be that way with Jamie, he would always put you and the baby first.

Your mind drifted back to a few weeks ago when Jamie had still wanted you, even though he knew the child was Tyler's. Did he still feel that way? Maybe what was best for you and your baby was Jamie? You could surely still co-parent with Tyler, but you knew Jamie would be the most amazing father. And maybe with time, you'd be able to give Jamie a child of his own. Of course, you still didn't know how much you could trust him, given that he lied about the amnesia, but was the lie really that bad? All he wanted to do was protect you from Tyler. Surely knowing what you knew now, that was something forgivable.

Jamie stirred underneath you, his eye fluttering open. "Hey beautiful, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's fine, I just woke up myself."

"I see the sleep did you some good. You look a million times better (Y/N)." He kissed your forehead and you melted back into him, just for a second.

"It did help. Actually, it kind of gave me some clarity."

"That's great, sweetie."

"Well, it might be, depending on what you say." You sat up then, needing to look him in the eye before you continued on. "Jamie I…well….I need to know if you meant it when you said you still wanted to be with me."

"I meant every word of it. I want to be with you (Y/N). I want to marry you, and someday have babies of our own." There was a lilt of happiness in his voice, and you knew just asking that question alone, had given him a modicum of hope.

Though there was still one thing you needed to know before you could truly tell him that you wanted to be with him. "Do you think that you could love this baby, though Jame?"

Your hands went to rub your non-existent baby belly. "Oh (Y/N), of course, I'd love your baby. How could I not? It's part of you, sweetheart." He placed his hands over the top of yours. "I won't lie to you anymore (Y/N). I wish this little one was mine, but it doesn't change the fact, that if you and I are together I would love him or her like they were my own."

A tear ran down your cheek at his words and you knew that your decision was made. "Then if you'll still have me Jame; I want us to be together." The smile that spread across his face was infectious and you found yourself grinning back. "It's not going to be easy. I'm sure Tyler won't be happy and will make it hard on us, but I love you Jamie and I think we can make this work."

"I'll do whatever it takes." He said before crushing his mouth on yours, in a kiss that had your heart feeling light. You hadn't felt this happy in months. It was as if all your cares had been taken away. Oh, you knew there were still a ton of obstacles you needed to overcome, but this, this just felt right.

You broke away from Jamie, sooner than either of you liked. "Not to put a damper on all this happiness, but I do need to talk to Tyler."

Jamie frowned, but then pecked your lips quickly. "WE need to talk to him. We're in this together now. You don't have to do anything by yourself anymore."

You smiled back him, for it felt good to finally have someone on your side. Picking up your phone, you saw you had three missed calls from Tyler. Since it was only ten at night, there was no time like the present to just get it over with. You dialed his number and he picked up right away. "Hey babe, where have you been? I've been trying to get ahold of you."

"I fell asleep." While that answer was true, there was so much more that you needed to say. "Tyler…I…well we need to talk."

"Yeah, sure. I'll be right over."

"I'm not at my place Ty." You knew the moment you said the words he was tipped off that this conversation was not going to go well.

"Oh…well, where are you?"

"I'm at Jamie's. Can you come over here?" He sighed heavily into the phone; his frustration evident.

"Uh…yeah…if that's what you want."

"Yeah, if you don't mind."

"I'll be over shortly then." He didn't say anymore, just hung up the phone. As soon as he did butterflies started churning in your stomach. You knew the conversation wasn't going to go well, but it was better to get it over with than to let it fester.

"It'll be ok (Y/N)," Jamie said reassuringly, kissing your temple and lacing your fingers together. It seemed like only a matter of minutes and you heard Tyler slamming the car door before the doorbell rang. Jamie answered it, while you stayed on the couch. They exchanged a muffed greeting, then walked into the living room.

"Hey babe," He said leaning down to give you a kiss, but you turned so that he would kiss your cheek. Tyler frowned, yet took the seat on the couch to the left of you, while Jamie sat on your right. "So, what's going on?"

You took a deep breath. "I want you to know that I thought about this, a lot." Maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but you couldn't tell him everything that you'd learned from Tara changed your mind. "It's not that I don't love you, because I do. It's just that…well, there's no easy way to say this…I love Jamie more." He flinched as if you'd struck him, and while you felt sorry for all the things that could've been with Tyler; you couldn't feel bad for putting the needs of your baby first when you knew Tyler hadn't done that with the child he already had. "I'm sorry Tyler, but I want to be with him."

"You can't be serious!" It wasn't a question, you weren't even sure he wanted an answer to that statement. "After everything that he's done, you're going to choose him, over us and our baby?" You went to place your hand on his knee in comfort, but he shrugged you off; standing and pacing the living room as he ranted. "He lied to you (Y/N)." You wanted to scream that so did he, but you couldn't. "You fucking lied to her."

Jamie took your hand in his then, you were half afraid he'd say something to tip Tyler off that you'd spoken to Tara. Though when he spoke there was that quiet calmness that he'd reserved for reporters after a particularly hard game. "We've talked everything through and worked it out Tyler. None of us here are saints. we've all kept secrets and told lies, but after some discussion; we both feel we can move past that and start fresh." He brought your hand to his lips in a tender kiss, that wasn't necessary yet comforted you a little as well.

"And what about OUR child? You just expect me to be some part-time dad?" It would be better than being a non-existent one to the child he already had.

"I know it isn't going to be easy co-parenting, but we'll muddle through it, millions of people do. We're not planning on cutting you out of his or her's life."

"We're," he fairly spat the word at you. "Like you and Jamie have the final say as to when I see MY child."

He was yelling now, not that you didn't think he would; you just hadn't expected it to upset you this much. "Tyler, whether you like it or not; Jamie and I are together now. WE are going to make decisions together. But we are not cutting you out in any way."

"You're not cutting me out?" He snorted with disdain. "You're just deciding to spend the rest of your life and my child's with another man, but no worries cause you'll still include me. Fuck that." He turned towards Jamie, hands balled into fists. "I could fucking bash your skull in right now, you know that."

Jamie rose out of his seat, using his full height and size to his advantage. "I'd like to see you try."

You pulled at Jamie's wrist, urging him to sit back down. When he didn't you stood up as the two stared at each other. "That's enough." You said as you stepped between them. "Tyler this was my decision. Months ago, when I was willing to give us another try." You were speaking solely to Tyler now. "Jamie was gracious and stepped aside. I realize this situation is a bit different, but I would expect you to respect the fact, that I've chosen to be with Jamie."

You could see him mulling things over in his head. "I would like for this to work between the three of us, which means you two need to get along. But if you can't do that." You looked Tyler straight in the eye. "Then I suppose we will have to get lawyers involved."

"And what you think, the two of you would get custody of my child." The look on his face, had you taking a step back into Jamie's protective arms. "I'd like to see you try."

"If that's the way you want it, Seguin," Jamie said a calmness to him you weren't sure you contained. "We'll hire the best lawyer money can buy." He paused for a second. You hadn't meant for the threatening of an attorney to go this far. "But I truly hope, that you take a minute and think about what you are doing to (Y/N) and your child. The last thing she needs right now is the stress from a custody battle. She's already lost one child, because of your foolishness, don't make it be another." Oh god, you knew somewhere in the recesses of your mind that Jamie was right. In fact, you could already feel your blood pressure rising. If you lost another child, it would be the end of you.

You swallowed hard, past the lump of your throat. Just the thought had tears streaming down your face. You turned quickly, losing your balance, but Jamie was there to steady you and you buried your head in his chest releasing a sob you'd held in until that point. "I think you should go now," Jamie said.

"Fine." You could just hear Tyler mumble. "But this isn't over." You knew that it wasn't, knew that it would be a long battle up ahead, but at least this part was over.

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

So you're probably wondering, where the choice here is. This time we're going to try something different. I was talking to one of my friends on here about it (and yes if we chat on here, I consider you my friend) and she made a suggestion about letting you guys chose who's secret you wanted to be revealed next. So that is your choice this time. Will it be:

A) Jamie's secret

B) Another one of Tyler's secret

C) Kathleen's secret

D) (Y/N)'s secret (does she have one???)

E) Or someone else

Voting ends at Friday at 8pm EST

#Choices series Tyler Seguin Jamie Benn #tyler seguin #jamie benn #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction

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theres-a-goldensky · 4 years ago

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BL Show Review Series - My Engineer and 2gether

I am new to BL series, having only discovered them thanks to being stuck at home in quarantine. However, I’ve now watched enough of them that I feel like I have a lot to say and nowhere to say it. So I decided to write some reviews, talk about some issues that I had, and mainly get all of these feelings out of me.

Disclaimer that these are my own opinions, and I don’t know where the BL community as a whole stands on these shows. If I disliked a show you loved or visa versa, no disrespect is intended!

First up, then, are My Engineer and 2gether

MASTERLIST OF BL SHOW REVIEWS

MY ENGINEER

Rating: 4/10 (Revised score: 6/10)

Main Pairing

The premise of this show is silly, but I was willing to let that pass if it was cute enough. It wasn’t. Not for me, anyway. The main pairing was very lackluster, and their courtship started off weird, with freshman Duen inexplicably feeling obligated to care for the older Bohn. Duen accidentally punches Bohn, but that interaction spirals into Duen letting Bohn bully him into buying Bohn flowers every day for a month as recompense.

You get it from Bohn’s perspective. He clearly is interested in Duen from the beginning, and this is his inept way of flirting. But Duen going along with it at first, when he dislikes Bohn, is baffling. I thought there must have been something I missed. Was it because Bohn was his senior?

The parts I found most charming about their story involved them interacting with their younger siblings. In particular, Duen’s love of his little sister was genuinely heartwarming. There’s a date scene late in the series that is the highlight of their story for me.

There is a ridiculous, drawn out arc about which one of them is going to top, which I was super done with before it even started. It ends with the message that, hey, anyone can be a top or a bottom and it doesn’t matter, but man did the story take its time getting there. It left a bad taste in my mouth.

Side Pairings

There are three additional side pairings happening here, which was at least one too many. However, the relationship between King and Ram quickly became the best thing about the show for me. The two of them together are charming, particularly the patient way that King enjoys Ram’s oddities and works to find a way to communicate with him anyway.

Ram, despite being a side character, is the most developed person in the show. We see a lot about his family life and his interests. He’s fiercely loyal to his friends but also very shy. Over the course of the show, you see him feel hurt and scared and angry and in love, and all without him saying much of anything at all.

The next side pairing is Mek and Boss. They are best friends and Boss calls himself Mek’s wifey. Mek is in love with Boss, to the point where he has a shrine of him hidden away in his room. It’s very sweet, even though you’re left kind of wondering, uh...why? What has Boss done to earn Mek’s undying devotion? It’s unclear.

Bafflingly, the actor who plays Mek was not speaking Thai in this. All of his lines were dubbed over -- very, very poorly -- and you can see that the words he’s speaking don’t match the words he’s supposed to be saying. I have no idea why they cast this person, though he did well given the circumstances. He has a very soulful stare that worked to demonstrate his pining. Watching him decide to help Boss get a girlfriend just because he wanted him to be happy was tough.

If I were to recommend this series, it would be to follow these two side stories. You may enjoy the Bohn/Duen romance, but I had a hard time getting attached to them or believing their chemistry.

The final pairing was between Frong and Dr. Thara. I have nothing to say about them, honestly. It could have been completely taken out and nothing would have been lost. The actors did what they could with the roles. Both were charming, both were very, very attractive, but that couldn’t save this side story for me.

The acting was just so-so, though special mention should probably go to the actors who portrayed Mek and Boss, since they spent the majority of their scenes acting with someone who was speaking an entirely different language.

There was very little tension and almost no stakes in this series, except between King and Ram.

(Update: 9/27/20

Time sometimes changes feelings on a series, and in the months since I wrote this review, I’ve come to look more favorably on this drama. My love for Ram and King has only grown, and I’ve come to tolerate Bohn and Duen’s story more than I had before. Some of the early parts are even cute, though the back half still bugs me.)

***

2GETHER THE SERIES Rating: 5/10

Main Pairing

Win and Bright, the actors who portray the main characters of Tine and Sarawat, are both just...startingly good looking. They’re tall and broad and handsome. Tine has the sweetest smile and Sarawat can sexy brood with the best of them. I think the natural charisma of both leads did a lot to paper over the cracks of a thin story where the characters made nonsensical choices just to drive forward the plot.

This is a fake dating story, which should be my JAM, ok? Straight boy freshman Tine wants to curb the attentions of Green, a gay man who is pursuing him. He decides to ask Sarawat, the campus dreamboat, to pretend date him so that Green will back off. It all makes sense so far, in terms of how these convoluted romantic comedy set-ups go. Sarawat refuses, and Tine starts up a charm offensive to get him to agree. Still makes sense. But then, once Sarawat commits to this plan, scene after scene goes like this:

Tine: Sarawat, here comes Green! Pretend to be my boyfriend! Sarawat: [pretends to be his boyfriend] Tine: Oh no, what are you doing? People are going to think we’re dating!

Like, bro, he is doing what you have explicitly asked him to do! Often just moments before! What is HAPPENING? I get that this is supposed to be Tine feeling confused about his burgeoning feelings for Sarawat, but then show that by Tine being nervous or embarrassed. Having him lash out at Sarawat made no sense and got more frustrating as the series went on.

And look, I’m just going to say it: Win and Bright seem like they didn’t want to touch each other. They have major bro chemistry, but zero romantic chemistry. It got to the point, in the last few episodes, where I thought there was a translation error and I was misunderstanding the status of their relationship. By the tail-end of the series, former playboy Tine still looks a cross between confused and horrified whenever Sarawat tries to touch him. We never once see Tine happily kiss Sarawat. I don’t understand the choices that were made by the actor, director, and writers here.

Every problem that occurs between Tine and Sarawat could be solved with a few clarifying words, but instead they get dragged on for the sake of drama.

Furthermore, I know that BLs are fond of the “I’m not gay, I just like you” trope, but for the first 11 episodes of this show, Sarawat is coded as gay. Not bi. Not straight-except-for-you. Gay. He has a literal harem of women surrounding him at all times, showering him with gifts and attention, and doesn’t once appear interested. When his mother asks him when he’s going to get a girlfriend, the look that both he and his brother give her clearly reads, “Are you fucking kidding?”

And yet, in episode 12, we are supposed to believe that his first and only other great love was a woman. It’s the way the book was written, I get it, but it rang false for me.

Side Pairings

There were two side pairings. All four of the actors involved are BL vets who performed their duties well.

Man and Type are interesting, but their story gets pushed to the side until the end of the series. However, while Tine and Sarawat’s story was floundering in the latter episodes, I was more than happy to watch this develop. Mike, who plays Man, has become one of my favorite supporting actors in these shows. He’s workman-like, bringing natural charm to his performances and always getting the job done. Seeing Man try to win Type over was fun even while it barely toed the line between sweet and creepy.

Mil and Phukong though? I was not here for any of it. Mil was a jerk and Phukong was a doormat. The way they ended the series was insulting to Phukong. I’d say he deserved better, but his insistence on going after Mil even though Mil was a genuine asshole to both him and his brother did his character no favors. The show wanted Mil to be redeemed by the end, but no thanks, I’ll pass. Phukong may not have deserved better, but Drake and Frank definitely did. I hated it.

Like I said, the actors are so likable and gorgeous, and the fake dating trope is such a classic, that I really wanted to like this one. The first few episodes were sweet and had potential, but the awkwardness between them that I assumed would go away by the end never did.

MASTERLIST OF BL SHOW REVIEWS

(Send me an ask if you have a show you’d like me to review - with the understanding that I will be completely honest - or if there’s anything you think I forgot or got wrong in this review.)

#bl series #2gether #bl review series #my engineer #saratine #sarawat/tine #king/ram #gmmtv

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mininky · 6 years ago

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Love is for the birds baby!

Summary: You refuse to believe in love. It’s a concept created by big corporations like hallmark to get sad saps like you to buy their shit. But it’s all fake. You’re convinced of that at least until a series of events with a certain tattoo artist who you loved to hate makes you question everything you’ve ever known.

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Yoongi x (fem) reader

Genre/Warnings: Romance, slow burn, fluff, comedy, smut warnings include: unsafe sex (always wear a condom), oral sex (male & fem receiving), multiple orgasms, spanking, light breath play, mentions of squirting. Non smut warnings for lots of cussing. Lots.

Word Count: 13.3K

A/N: A special shout out to @mzpandylu for inspiring me with such odd dialogue. Also challenge accepted, a quivering starfish is mentioned.

Love is a completely abstract and intangible concept to you, at least romantic love is. There are many forms of love. Familial love is a concept you sort of understand, let's just say that your home life wasn't the greatest but you do at least understand the concept. Platonic love you completely understand. But romantic love? You very secretly yearn to understand it, desperately trying to figure out how the fuck some people get so lucky that the spark happens. You've dated, sure. But try as you might none of them have ever made your head spin or your heart sing. Lust you get. You've had plenty of flings and even some longer relationships, but love? Love is for the birds baby.

You refuse, absolutely refuse, to admit that you have in any way shape or form an interest in this bizarre concept that is the investment and endeavor of romantic love. You've carefully hidden away all of your fanfics and all of your shojo mangas and all of the things that others would say is honestly completely normal to keep questions at bay. You know that your friends are interested in love, and unlike you they have no shame in admitting it. They talk about it all the time. They fall in 'love' with each man they date. But you're convinced that's not love. It's something more than like, sure you'll give them that but you're sure that it'll all end eventually. Love isn't sustainable because it's all a lie. Maybe you're too romantic at being romantic, perhaps you've just been suckered into all these stories into believing that a whirlwind romance is possible until one day the crushing realization that it wasn't possible occurred. That the sparks of electricity and burning hot embers of passion aren't sustainable and aren't indicative of love.

You were twenty, he was twenty-one. The two of you had been dating mutually for three years at that point, a lifetime in college years. Billy Johnson. Fucking Billy. He was smart and funny and he actually knew what a clit was, and he kissed you under the night stars and made you feel like you were in love. Maybe you were, but you like to think that the feelings you felt weren't actually that strong. It made the fallout easier. Which brings you to the fallout, that realization that romantic love is all a big corporate lie to sell shitty grocery store roses and cute snuggly teddy bears and dime back novels to sad sops like you. A marketing ploy. Not a reality. Fuck Plato for being the first to sell the idea of soulmates, and fuck Billy too. Billy Johnson was a cruel heartless asshole who fucked your best friend. And in one day you lost two loves, one romantic and one platonic. In turn, you gained a distinct hatred for romantic concepts and a world-weary view on relationships, waiting for the other shoe to drop every time you encountered someone new.

You dated again after that, but now at the young age of twenty-six, you've decided that it's time to give up. Or maybe you gave up after Billy. You can't say you've ever actually given it a real try after that if you're being honest. You know when to call it quits. You refuse, absolutely refuse, to be a corporate sellout. And your feelings are in no way shape or form reflective of the animosity at being broken up with by Johny last week because you were too 'sarcastic' in the middle of your vacation to Busan. Too sarcastic your ass. You'll show that motherfucker sarcastic. God, sorry, you're getting off track here. Where were you again?

Ah yes, love is for apparently everyone that isn't you. So you'll just be a cat lady. An affection earned entirely by ear scritches and feeding them. A reward system that makes sense. You take care of them and they tolerate you. Now that you understand. That makes sense. Why in the ever loving fuck would you try romance again when instead you can have a mutually beneficial understanding with something as cute as a cat that can't tell you 'I think you're a bitch' in a language you understand? Fuck Johnny, and Billy. And every other man for that matter.

You're ruminating in anger as you order your coffee, eyes staring straight into the young and timid barista as you slap down the change. Poor kid, it's not his fault but today you just hate the world. You try to smile but you're pretty sure that just scares him more if the way his eyes go large and round in fear is anything to go by. Christ, you need to work on your people skills. And you're totally not thinking that because of that dick weasel who you've decided will no longer be named.

Normally once you get your caffeine fix you're in a much better mood, but today the only thing you want to do is karate chop your own throat. Or maybe just play Red Dead Redemption 2 and kill a bunch of people in a completely legal way. Not online though, you really don't need another 13-year-old boy slurring about how much girls suck unless you want to unleash the crazy bitch inside of you to the point of no return. But unfortunately, you have bills to pay. Caffeine fixes to afford. Student loans to pretend you'll someday actually pay off except interest is a bitch. Which means going to work. Normally something you love, but today you're really not in the mood to edit another shitty sci-fi story where the physics of breasts go beyond the dudebro fedora lover that wrote the shitty thing.

Be an editor they said. You love books they said. You'll be great they said. They hadn't warned you that being an editor at a major publishing house still meant reading through a painful amount of crap writing that you would, in turn, make all pretty and nice and somewhat more presentable garbage for public consumption with no acknowledgment or credit for all the hours you spent trying not to bash your screen in with your face. At least you were close enough to walk to work.

You grab your piping hot venti quad shot vanilla latte (with soy) as you go back out into the frigid air. Your eyes are cast down on the pavement, trying not to bump into too many of the zombie state morning foot traffic as you make your way into the office. At least you have an office of your own, a salvation of peace and quiet away from prying eyes that allows you to wallow in self-pity safely. The rest of the day goes by in a blur, your normally somewhat antisocial personality becomes far more present as you hide away from even your beloved breakroom coffee pot to avoid too many interactions. You just knew that you would end up running into Susan. Nice gal, but she talks way too much and she set you up with Johnny no wait, the douche canoe. You forgot he must never be named again. The last thing you need is her bringing up how he dumped in you in the middle of your vacation.

You're also the last one to leave tonight. For someone who didn't really want to step foot into the building, you sure do seem to be having a hard time getting out of here. But there are deadlines to meet and your vacation meant that there's a pileup of work that needs to be done. That and you really don't feel like going into your empty apartment to binge watch on Netflix while you host another internal pity party.

By the time you're finally out the door and into the freezing winter night, you can feel exhaustion seeping deep into your bones. Or that might just be the joint pain that this super shitty winter is causing. That's another thing the world lied about, joint pain isn't just for old people. It's apparently also for future cat spinsters who hate everything no matter their current age. Your head is stuck on the last chapter you were editing, trying to make sense of how exactly you might be able to convince the author to scrap the whole damn thing politely as your nose picks up on the smell of a cigarette wafting over. Your stomach rumbles, brain shutting off as fingers twitch. God, it's been two years since you stopped smoking but it smells so painfully fucking good right now.

Your face whips up as you see the small trail of smoke wafting over to you. It's the guy from the tattoo shop, Min fucking Yoongi. You should've known. The guy is hot you'll give him that. Eyes just sharp enough to give him that bad boy image when paired with his full sleeve tattoos and the crawling cherry blossoms on his neck. The chronic scowl that says 'try me' in a way that oddly makes him hotter. Hair that looks like he spends way too much time on usually. Today however he's decked out in a beanie and black leather jacket with pants just tight enough to make you wish he would turn around and walk away. But in the last year since you've unfortunately gotten to know him you know that he's every bit as snarky, bitchy, and firey as you. He's also as much bite as he is bark, although so far you've never been the one he's pointed his bite at.

"(Y/N), I see you were working late again." He takes a lazy drag on his cigarette, eyes staring straight through you as his lips quirk up into a smirk.

"Yoongi." Your eyes narrow in on his, fingers twitching at your side as you bite down the incessant desire to beg for a cigarette. You won’t break, especially not in front of him. Just because you’ve had a series of bad days doesn’t mean you actually need that cigarette.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you? You seem even bitchier than normal. I guess this cold snap we're having is because the ice queen decided to control your body."

"Har-har-har little man." He bristles at the jab and you can't help but cackle internally at your small victory (pun completely intended.) "No for your information the world is a cruel, evil bitch and yet again I fell for its corporate seductions and evil capitalist ploys."

"Right, I'm going to nod my head and pretend I understood what that meant just so you don't kill me. Hey, so are you ever going to get that tattoo or not?"

You reach into the trenches of your memory, recalling months ago on a particularly good day when you told this same tiny Satan that you wanted to get a tattoo. He had seemed oddly impressed that you wanted a snake on your upper thigh and all was well until he told you that he pictured you wanting some shitty positive statement, most likely placed on your collarbone or ribcage and adorned with little doves or a dreamcatcher or some other shit. Bleh. That's when he first learned that you are possibly insane and most certainly a bit of a bitch. It's all been downhill with him since, each run in turning into a battle of insults.

He stubs out the little remaining part of his Marlboro before gesturing to the warm shop. "I've got an opening to do a consult if you wanna talk about it more."

Perhaps this is it, maybe this is what you need to do. Something different. Something that doesn't include your usual routine of wake up, caffeinate, work, work, work, and Netflix binge all in between minor anxiety driven breakdowns. Besides, it's just a consult, not the actual tattoo. "How do I know this isn't an elaborate plan to eventually see me half naked?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he opens the door to the shop, glaring at you as he speaks slowly. "You might be hot, but I have a feeling you'd be the type of girl to try to peg me with no lube. I prefer cuddling. Trust me, I'm not interested in getting you naked and seeing where it goes." You're thrown for a loop at that one, shuffling slowly behind him as your brain tries to make sense of it. You know you should be offended that he seriously thinks you wouldn't use lube, but Yoongi likes cuddling? The guy who scowls at life itself? The guy who you've watched physically throw out a neo-nazi who wanted a tattoo? The same guy who rides a motorcycle and refuses sugar in his coffee because he likes it as bitter as his very soul? Man, life is really fucking weird.

You follow behind him tentatively, shocked to hear rather calm hip hop station on. Maybe you stereotype too much but you pegged him (pun not intended this time) as a Lamb of God kind of guy, definitely not a Dean and PH-1 fan. He takes you over to his office, gesturing at a free seat before he sits down at his desk. Every surface is covered with intricate artwork. From Japanese style tattoos to Sailor Jerry flash pieces to pops of dystopian Disney paintings. "So, you still thinking about doing the same thing?"

"Yeah. Red Belly black snake. I'm thinking upper thigh/hip area." You stand up and move your coat to the side to point to the area.

"That's a good sized piece. Have you thought about adding anything more to it? Maybe some hyacinths on the left and right of the snake, I'm thinking in maybe a pale pink so it doesn't offset the red in the snake too much."

"You know what a hyacinth is?" You snort slightly, glaring back at him when he leans onto his elbows to shoot a look that he's probably hoping will kill you.

"I'm a tattoo artist. Do you know how many fucking flowers I have to draw every day? Swear to god I should open up a flower shop next door and make a killing with my amazing arrangements." This time you give a full-blown laugh, shocked to hear him mirroring quietly. In all the time you've kinda sorta known him you've never heard him laugh. It's nice, deep, and the gummy smile he gives has your heart doing little flip flops that you absolutely refuse to analyze.

You take just a beat too long to look at him, your head tilted slightly as you mentally murder the lone butterfly that has survived all of the anger you've culminated in the last few years. "How about a peony instead? I think it would look better."

"We can do that. With the size you're looking for and all the color work I'd guess that we're looking at at least 6 hours if we want to make sure it's done right. We can split it into two three hours sessions. I charge $200 an hour so you're looking at at least $1200, but you might want to be thinking to around the $1600 range just to be safe. I also require a $300 deposit usually just for a consult and another $300 later but I figure I can always hound you if you don't come in." He opens up his computer, clicking away for a moment before adding, "I have enough time to get started this Friday night if you want? At 8:00."

"Gee thanks for the trust. Yeah that all sounds good, I'm down."

He nods quickly, hands grabbing at some paper as he starts making drafting up some rough sketches. You try not to invade his space as you look over the paper, brain desperately searching for a small talk topic. God, you've always been bad at this. "So...how long have you been a tattoo artist?"

"Well I started my apprenticeship right out of high school at 18 so 10 years total, but as an actual artist only about 8 years." Interesting, so that would make him two years older than you. For some reason, you feel a need to put that in one of your mental files. "What exactly do you do at that giant office building down the street?"

"I work for a publishing house in there as one of their many editors."

Yoongi snorts, nodding his head as he keeps sketching away. "Yeah, I can see you working with books. Your creative insults suddenly make so much more sense."

"I'll take that as a compliment." You lean back into your chair, taking in your surroundings a little more closely before focusing unabashedly at the man before you. His tattoos are on full display now that he's taken off his jacket. Almost all are black and white with small splashes of reds and pinks laced mostly on his neck where cherry blossoms fall delicately off a branch. His eyes are cast in complete concentration, lower lip bitten as he works. There's something painfully sexy about the image. You almost want to burn it into your brain to use for late night consumption.

You aren't sure how long the two of you sit there in silence, but it's comfortable. There's something soothing about listening to the way his markers glide over the paper as soft music, buzzing tattoo guns, and chatter filters in fuzzily through the closed door. You can feel yourself finally start to relax, all of the earlier rage and grudges held at the world slipping away momentarily as you enter a near-meditative state just watching him work.

Finally, he glances up, a smile on his face as he pushes the paper over the desk to you. It's beautiful, a little rough around the edges without the finishing touches but it's better than anything you thought of. "Wow, Yoongi this looks great."

"It's just a rough drawing. I still need to work on some of the other touches but if you're good with that I'll get started on making the transfer later this week."

"Yeah..." You words are quiet as you look at the picture, elation growing in your heart. You might turn into a cat lady, but at least you'll be a badass one. "Okay, so seriously though do you want me to put down the deposit now? I have no problem with that."

"Nah, don't sweat it. Oh, but I do need your full name and number to actually book it. And don't give me some shit about this being a ploy for your number." You roll your eyes before giving him the information. Standing up slowly when he opens up the office door and leads you back out to light snowfall. "Alright, see you this Friday (y/n)."

"See you Yoongi. Thanks again." As you turn back to send a smile something painfully familiar stirs in your brain when he flashes that gummy smile and sends you on your way.

---------------Friday----------------

By the time Friday rolls around you've been through a whole litany of emotions. You're of course excited about the tattoo, that's not the problem. No the source of all evils is Min Yoongi. Sexy. Witty. Can handle your sarcasm. Enjoys cuddling. He's plagued your thoughts, gummy smiles invading your daydreams and inky tattoos hovering over you at night. It's been a long time since you've actually crushed on anyone. Dating as an adult is an entirely different experience. Usually, you know someone who knows them or met them on tinder and you're just praying that they aren't a secret serial killer and that you share enough interests to talk in between getting railed while praying for an orgasm. At least, that's been your shitty experiences anyway. You know that it isn't always the case considering that just about all of your friends have gotten magically engaged or married recently. But Yoongi? There's something about him that stirs up all of your previously assumed dead thoughts on love. All of the secret romantic pinings combines with lust in a painful swirl but luckily the thoughts you have of him are usually fleeting.

You step forward into the tattoo shop after grabbing a bite to eat, two warm cocoas in your hand as you try not to freak out that the big event is finally here and you'll be face to face with tiny, sexy, tattooed satan yet again. The man behind the counter looks over at you, and you can't help but wonder for a moment if being really good looking is a requirement to work here. Deep dimples, sunkissed skin, glasses perched on his nose.

"Hi, do you have an appointment?" You shake your head yes, staring at the floor for a moment before finally squeaking out that you're there to see Yoongi.

"Ay, (Y/N)'s here!" He shouts out towards Yoongi's office and you see him strolling out just a moment later.

"Jesus Joon, you've been spending too much time around Hobi. I think the whole shop could hear you." Yoongi steps around the desk eyeing the other cup before you hand it out to him.

"It's just cocoa, I didn't lace it. This time. Also, it's made with soy milk." You can hear the man called Joon laughing in the background as Yoongi slowly grabs the cup and squints at it before taking a tentative sip.

He gives a small nod that you assume is to signify satisfaction before he starts walking over to a curtained-off section in the back. "You ready to get started?"

"Yep, all ready!" You take a sip of the cocoa and sit down on the tattoo chair slowly.

"Alright, just check over this transfer and let me know what you think before you undress so I can put it on." You look over the image, heart warming up slightly at the brush of his fingers before you finally nod a silent affirmation. "I need words babe, is it good or not?"

You can feel yourself bristle at the tone, sighing wearily before you finally bite out, "Yes, babe, it's perfect."

"Cool. I'll leave you to get undressed, I'll be back in just a moment." The one shitty thing about the placement of your tattoo is that it will require not only pants to come off but underwear too. Before nerves can take over you strip quickly, laying back down on your side before you can think about it too much. Getting undressed faster than you can sneeze was probably a bad idea though because now you're forced to just sit there with your ass cheeks freezing and mind shutting down while you wait for him to come back. After a minute you hear him announcing that he's coming in before opening up the curtain.

Your eyes are trained on the floors. Jesus, you wish you could get your tiles to glisten the way their's does. They must mop a thousand times a day, you can't even see a speck of dirt in the grout. The sound of him clearing his throat has you jolting a bit before turning around to glare at the sound of his laughter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just going to disinfect the area and put the transfer on then I'll have you take a look and let me know what you think of the placement." You decide to go mute apparently as your only response is a feeble thumbs up before quickly turning to resume your ever so interesting study on what floor cleaner they use. Probably Fabuloso.

You force yourself to stay stock still when you feel his warm hands on your hip as he cleans the area and peels the transfer on before he gives a light tap to your thigh. "Alright, take a look." With all the grace of a hospice patient you slowly swing your legs off and walk over to the mirror, trying to not pay attention to the fact that you're awkwardly half naked in front of arguably the hottest man who's admitted he enjoys cuddling before you finally relax at the sight of the transfer. "Man, this is going to look rad. Alright little satan, do your thing!"

"Little Satan? Really? What happened to all your usual creative bitchiness? What was it you called me that one time?"

"Oh! Degenerate Malfoy with a nicotine problem? Or was it wannabe colon inspector?"

"Neither actually, it wasn't even something you called me now that I remember it. You once told me 'Ah I see the fuck up fairy decided to mess with my life and force me to see you yet again.' That's a good one by the way, I've used it a few times."

"Glad I could help, but I wish I could copyright it so you could pay me the rights to use it." You try not to get too nervous as you hear him slip on his gloves and the needle buzzing ominously behind you. The pain won't be that bad right? "Relax, you'll be fine." His voice for once isn't laced with sarcasm. It seems that even the formidable Yoongi has a professional voice that he employs occasionally.

After what feels like ages filled with anxiety-ridden thoughts you feel the needle prodding away, moving quickly while leaving tingling and ever slight burning sensations in its wake. It does hurt, but not to the point of being unbearable. "See it's not so bad, scaredy cat." You resist the urge to turn around and pummel him in his annoyingly handsome face.

"If you weren't tattooing me right now I'd choke you out."

"Kinky, but I prefer a chick to at least buy me a drink first."

"Already did jackass, the cocoa remember."

"Huh, you did didn't you. Okay, well it's still off the table for you. You'd probably keep going until I actually died."

"Hell misses it's little satan though, I'd just be helping you reunite with all your friends."

"Do you have a snarky remark for everything princess?"

"Nah, depends on the day and the person. You're a special one Min Yoongi, something about you makes me want to bludgeon things."

"Oh, what a sweet compliment. Isn't that how people feel when things are too cute too?" You don't even need to look over to know that he's smirking as you flip him off.

"Or annoying." The rest of the three hours the two of you spend going back and forth with each other to the point that some of the other artists passing by started to call out their two cents in. By the time you're done, you have the outline complete and some of the black shaded in. The rest will be done in just two weeks time at his next opening.

-------------2 weeks later-----------

Oddly enough for once, you haven't seen Yoongi outside during his normal smoke break time when you leave work for the last couple of weeks. You also haven't seen him getting his normal disgusting black coffee either. Not that you've been looking for him. Okay...so maybe you have. There's just something about him other than the really good looks you like. In one sense it's almost like walking on a blade the entire time you're with him, never sure when he's going to make a jab. On the other hand, he's also easy to talk to. In a way where everything is oddly comfortable even with this underlying lurking sexual tension. Or maybe that's just in your head. Maybe there's no sexual tension and it's just been so long since you last had a good lay (the dingleberry boy who shall not be named was terrible) that you're starting to hallucinate. Which is a rather real possibility.

This time when you walk in with another cocoa it's with far fewer nerves. No, you're ready for the battlefield and only tremble ever so slightly when you have to face him with a bare ass in his face.

"Alright sunshine, let's finish this bad boy up." Is all he states before he gets right into it, ever the professional. By the time he's finished, you're 110% positive that you were just imagining the sexual tension because his eyes don't even wander as you check the tattoo in the mirror. Which is a good thing right? Because you're supposed to be on your fast track to nundom not trying to bag the super hot tattoo artist who works near you.

There's a bizarre sinking feeling in your heart though when you realize the tattoo is done and you won't be able to see him for extended periods of time on such a good excuse. An expensive excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Now, however, with your beautiful, intricate, and very sore skin you'll have to go back to happenstance run-ins. You think that maybe, just maybe, if the somewhat hollow looking smile he gives you when you leave is anything to go by that he doesn't really want it to end either. But that's probably just the few embers of hope remaining in you that needs to be crushed out.

--------1 month later---------

You've spent another night overworking yourself. This time there wasn't really a good reason to either. You're not only on schedule but way ahead and yet you've decided to just keep busting through work until dusk begins to fall and the shitty flickering streetlights by you turn on. Almost every night for the past few weeks you've been working longer days and as much as you hate to admit it it's to try to keep yourself from wallowing too much at night about your impending lonely doom. Tonight will be different though. Tonight you'll ruminate and bask in the fucked up world with your dear old friend Irene as she's finally decided to have a night away from her obnoxiously good looking fiance Taehyung. She might not be able to relate to your doom and gloom sentiments on life but she's always a good friend for a pick me up.

You set off in the opposite direction of your usual route, winding through the chilly streets until you get to your favorite bar that serves oddly impressively delicious fried chicken. The moment you step in you notice Irene sitting at one of the few tables at the place, glaring at a man who clearly can't take a hint. Marching over you grab the seat across from her before biting off a 'Jesus how much aftershave do you use? Did you put in on your asshole too or something?' Knowing he's now outnumbered, and out bitched, the two of you watch the man leave without protest.

"You know you really should be careful. People are crazy, aren't you ever afraid that you might get hurt or something?"

You shrug nonchalantly before sighing at the doe eyes she gives you. "Irene, I love you but I'm not curtailing my inner bitch just because some douche might murder me. There are countless absurd ways I could die, if I have to check myself in fear of that then I just let all those asshats continue being menaces to society without being put in their shitty sad places."

"So what you're like a superwoman with a bad attitude only you save the world one dick at a time with well-timed insults?" You know that voice, you know that voice all too well. Your ears perk up and your jaw drops open as you whip around to come eye to eye with Yoongi. For one whole month, you haven't seen him even with perfectly timed coffee runs around his smoke breaks. Not that you learned his habitual schedule or anything. Nope. Nothing like that at all. Just coincidence is all. And you just happened to notice he wasn't there. That's all.

"Yoongi!" You hate the way your voice goes up an octave, excitement making your voice quiver like a little puppy reuniting with their owner after a short separation. You can already feel the heat bursting on your cheeks as his head tilts, eyes watching you carefully before he cracks a lazy smile.

"Um, (y/n), who is this guy? Do I need to mace him or something?" Irene whispers to you, but just loud enough that as Yoongi steps closer he can hear her.

"Please don't mace me. I promise, I only bite if you're into that."

"Hey, watch it, mister. She's a taken woman." Reluctantly you wave your hand over the free seat to invite him over before looking back at Irene. "Irene this is Yoongi, Yoongi this is Irene. Yoongi did my tattoo for me."

"Oh, you got a tattoo? Can I see it?"

"We'll definitely get a free round of drinks if you show it off, that's for sure." You can't help but smack Yoongi's shoulder, shocked at the sturdiness of it. Considering how slight he looks you really didn't think that he worked out but now your mind is starting to wander.

"Yeah well, kind of can't show you in public considering I have to take my pants off. Oh! But I do have some pictures!" You pull out your phone, swiping through until you find one and turning it to show her.

"Wow, that looks like it hurt. It looks great though you did a good job..." Irene pauses, eyes going wide with panic before she finally adds, "Yoongi."

"Thanks." He almost looks shy and you can feel your heart breaking. Yeah, typical to have the hot dude fall for your friend and not you.

"Did you order drinks yet?" At the shake of Irene's head, you're grateful to have an excuse to flee to the bar not rushing to grab the bartenders attention and face falling slightly when he sidles up next to you immediately. The world is a cruel place. You want them to take their time and they're there immediately. You want them there right away and suddenly so do seventy other people. Luck. Or murphy's law maybe. Whatever.

You huff out a sigh before plastering a smile on your face, "Two cranberry vodkas, please. Tall and stiff." The bartender nods as you slap down a twenty, praying that perhaps he'll at least make the drinks slowly but oh no this man must be one of those bartenders that enters fucking speed competitions because he's sliding both drinks over before you can fucking blink. Unbelievable. The service at this place is just too good and it's making you twitch slightly in irritation.

Trying not to huff, you grab the two drinks and make your way back to your table. Heart sinking even more at the sound of Yoongi being strangely amicable to Irene. This was not the night you wanted at all. You wanted to get drunk and hang out with Irene and forget about how shitty boys are, not have glaring reminders everywhere about how the capitalist ploy that is romance will suffocate you to death. Okay so maybe you're being a little melodramatic. A lot. Whatever. It's your pity party, you can cry if you want to.

When you finally sit back down and hand Irene her drink you can't help but guzzle yours back right away, ignoring the acidic burn in your throat and the quirked eyebrow from Yoongi.

"So...(y/n)...any new boys after Johnny?" Irene refuses to look you in the eyes as she asks, smart enough to sit just out of reach from your possible rage.

"I refuse to fall victim to the bullshit masquerade we call love yet again. I've called it quits. I'm just going to be a spinster with a million cats who will inevitably be forgotten until my landlord finds that mittens, my favorite cat, has eaten my left asscheek for sustenance after my untimely death."

Irene bawks, trying immediately to rush into lengthy reasoning as to why you shouldn't stop searching for love as Yoongi nearly falls off his chair laughing so hard. At the end of Irene's dialogue, Yoongi wipes away a stray tear before shooting you a gummy smile. The kind that makes you want to hate him less, but you refuse to. Because that's dangerous territory. Territory you've sworn to never cross again. "You don't actually mean all that bullshit right? Love is natural, it's needed. It's biologically ingrained in us to be social creatures and affectionate."

"Don't you judge me and mitten's life path!"

"You don't even have a cat!" Irene looks exasperated as she takes a sip of her drink, silently judging you. "Listen, I get it. You've been fucked over a million times by terrible guys. But that doesn't mean that the whole world is that way." At the withering look you send her Irene sighs, shaking her head but falling mute. You feel a little bad that yet again you've ruined the mood so you try to lighten it up a bit, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

"Thanks, Irene. I'm sorry. I'm just...I don't know. I've been in a bit of a mood." You bit your tongue from further sarcasm at the pointed look she gives you. "Things haven't been so hot lately. I'll get over it. In like a decade. But you know that's better than never." You can feel Yoongi peering at you, analyzing you from the corner of your eye.

"Why though? Why are you so convinced that love is such a sham?" Yoongi's words don't seem to hold any judgment or his usual quiet hostility, instead just honest curiosity.

"Well if they don't cheat on me they always grow tired of me. I'm a bit too much of a bitch for my own good. I should really work on that." You shrug, staring at your almost empty glass as you try to shush the self-loathing thoughts that want to invade.

"I like that part about you though. You've got spunk doll, it ain't a bad thing. You just need to find a guy who can match it." He smirks at the way you go quiet before leaning slightly into you at the table. "I don't know, I think I'm up for the challenge if you are." He grabs a card from his pocket, placing it next to your cup as he stands up. "That's my cell on there. Text me sometime babe." You hate the way your brain shuts down, playing back the way he calls you babe until all senses fail.

"You should do it. You know he was asking about you the entire time you were getting drinks?" You feel your heart sink even further at the realization that you judged the situation too quickly before suddenly soaring at the idea that Min Yoongi asked you out on a date. You. Snarky, bitchy you found a match in hell. Capitalist ploys be damned! You'll at least find out if he's cocky for a reason. If you don't chicken out that is.

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

Later that night after all the alcohol has left your system and you're snuggled up under enough blankets to possibly suffocate you, you find yourself staring at your phone. You entered in his contact almost immediately after he left at the urging of Irene. Apprehension has held you back from actually sending anything though. Your fingers hover over the screen, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you suck in a breath. What have you got to lose?

[You]: Hey...

[Yoongi]: (Y/N)?

[You]: Yeah

[Yoongi]: This is unusual. I'm used to quippy remarks. Don't tell me you've grown soft?

[You]: Fuck off. I'm just confused that's all.

[Yoongi]: What's there to be confused about? You're funny, you have no problem with giving it right back to me, and you have a fantastic ass

[You]: Well that was blunt

[Yoongi]: I'm an honest man [Yoongi]: So listen, about that date, I wanna take you out Sunday

[You]: That's in like a day from now

[Yoongi]: Yeah well I've wanted to take you out from the first time you told me off for smoking on the street. And that time you told me you were going to shove my tattoo needle up my ass solidified it.

[You]: You have some odd kinks sir

[Yoongi]: Is that a yes babe?

[You]: Hmmm....yeah I'll go

[Yoongi]: Great send me your address I'll pick you up at noon

[You]: You aren't going to chop me up in a million pieces and feed me to the fishes right?

[Yoongi]: No I prefer my women in one piece

You send over your address, butterflies swarming around as you squeal into a pillow before sending him a quick good night. You don't need to embarrass yourself by saying something off the wall as exhaustion starts to set in. Like "I want to kiss your face" or "Fuck me in your office." Yeah, that's not good pre-date material. You need to keep it kosher for now.

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

You had spent all day Saturday cleaning to keep your nerves at bay. Not that you can really tell much in your closet after you ransacked it. And not that you can tell you went through all of that energy just to pick a simple oversized black hoodie and jeans. It's too cold to go all out anyway. You've been staring in the mirror, double checking your hair and makeup a thousand times as you hear the doorbell chime through the apartment. It's a good thing no one else is around to see you nearly trip over yourself as you slip on your shoes and answer the door. "Hi!"

Yoongi is wearing his usual black leather jackets, skin-tight black jeans, and cat-like smirk. "Hey. You ready?"

"Yeah, oh just let me grab a jacket." Pulling one off the rack you shut the door behind you, locking the door before shuffling behind Yoongi. Much to your surprise, he slows down until your right next to him, clasping his hand around yours and smiling as he silently leads you to his car.

"What, no motorcycle today?"

"Nah, I figured you'd strangle me and we'd crash. Dieing on the first date just seems tragic. We need to get on date number five at least." He shoots you a wink as he opens your door, shutting it lightly behind him as he jogs around to the other side.

"So...where exactly are you taking me?"

"You're a curious little thing today, aren't you? Well at first I was thinking something simple like coffee, but let's be honest that's overplayed and boring. So then I thought about going to an aquarium just so I could make a joke about feeding you to the fishes but then I thought nah too easy. So I spent more time than I'll tell you plotting. And I realized exactly where we needed to go. We're going to the river for a picnic. Something that's oddly ordinary and you'll secretly love but no dude's ever actually done for you. Am I right?"

You're at a loss. You certainly didn't expect him to think this through to this extent. Honestly, no guy has ever cared this much about a first date before. You figured that only existed in stories and movies at this point. "You're certainly right. Isn't it a little cold for a picnic though?"

"I have brought plenty of cocoa and jjigae to keep us warm, don't you worry your pretty little head about it." You can't help but fidget slightly, nerves boiling over until his hand rests soothingly on your thigh and you feel yourself melt. Or maybe boil over until you malfunction. But that's something to dwell on at a later time.

It doesn't take long after that until you pull up at the river. During springtime it's packed, everyone comes out to drink under the cherry blossoms, but right now it's serenely quiet. You're almost the only people in sight save the zealous runners and elderly couples strolling through on their daily walks. When you try to help set up the blanket and food Yoongi refuses, so instead you watch him meticulously lay everything out. Maybe this is a post-season Christmas movie because you swear you can feel your dead cold heart grow as you watch him. It's an oddly domestic feeling. Certainly romantic. Painfully sweet. And for once all of your usual bitter snarkiness has drowned it's self in the river to leave you a heart-eyed mess.

"Come on, come sit. I told you before, I don't bite unless you're into that."

"I'm into that, but right now I'd rather have cocoa and jjigae." You watch him pour out your drink as you sit down, carefully handing you the piping hot drink before pulling the still boiling soup out of the basket.

"Alright, so I figured that being you'd probably refuse to tell me too much out of wariness. So I propose that we play 21 questions. What's your favorite food?"

"Tofu, in all it's many forms. What's your favorite color?"

"Black, just like my coffee."

"And your soul." You duck as he tosses a napkin at your face, laughing at the gummy expression he sends your way.

"Aish. Okay, next question, what are your hobbies?"

"Reading and video games. Why'd you become a tattoo artist?"

"I love drawing, but I especially love the idea of a living canvas. It's just so interesting. Although I hate that I don't usually get to control the outcome of it, some people have god awful tattoo ideas. Most people actually. I'm at least booked enough now that I can refuse those ones without worrying about my bank account too much. Why are you so afraid of love?"

You weren't expecting that question. You figured he'd keep things easy but then again you should have known better. Of all the many ways you can describe the man before you easy isn't one of them. "Trust problems I guess. I didn't have the best home, parents kicked me out young and we haven't talked since so that's probably at the root of it all. I don't know though, never seen a shrink about it so that's just an educated guess. Add all the boys that I've dated either dumped me or cheated on me and it makes it tough to believe that love, especially romantic love is real. Why do you believe in it?"

"Because love is the very essence of humanity. The best way to fight a shitty system that tries to keep us all down is through love. It's not power or money or any of that other bullshit they tell us we need. It's love. We all just need someone who understands us. It doesn't need to be a ton of people, just one who really gets us and bam! Everything's good. Sometimes those people come and go, but that doesn't make the love you held for that time discounted. It just means that now you need to find someone else who understands you." He chooses his words carefully at first, but when he sees that you're held in rapt attention he grows passionate. Eyes blazing as if to dare you to disagree. And suddenly you're seeing the world through a different lens. Here you had been chalking romance up to marketing, which isn't entirely untrue but that's just one part of it. But love the way he sees it? To him, love isn't about marketing or money it's just about human connection. And suddenly you're starting to understand that abstract intangible concept. You also realize that what you were looking for wasn't love, but perfection. You didn't want to do all the work, you just wanted all the pieces to magically fall into place for you and gave up when expectations weren't instantly met. "Next question, why'd you say yes to this date?"

"Because you're hot." You roll his eyes at the exaggerated wink he sends you before eating a bit of the jjigae. "Okay so that was a part of it but mostly I was curious. You're this weird enigma Yoongi. At first, I thought I had you all figured out. Tough dude with tats and a motorcycle who probably has a slew of booty calls waiting for him. But then you said you liked to cuddle and I got curious. And then I realized that I didn't have the whole picture, just a glimpse. Why in the world did you ask me out? And for the love of god don't say 'dat ass.'"

"Okay but dat ass though." The way he laughs full heartedly, slapping his knees at the sight of your glare almost makes you not elbow him. Almost. But you have a reputation to uphold. "You've just got this thing about you. You're like a fortress. A puzzle. I guess that same idea of wanting to figure a person out is the same reason why I'm so attracted to you. You see at first glance you seem to be just brutally honest, but then when you look closer it's easy to see that you're vulnerable. Fragile. Callous due to a previous naivety that landed you in shit places by the sounds of it. I like that you have spirit, you aren't afraid to tell people to fuck off. But what I like most of all is under that there's this heart of gold. At least if your interaction with your friends is anything to go by you do." Fuck, you think you have something in your eye. It's definitely not your long extinct tear ducts learning how to work again. Nope.

You can feel his thumb brush a stray tear, hand cupping your face as you automatically nuzzle into the warmth before he clears his throat. "Next question-"

Before he can finish the question your lips are on his. They're chapped but still soft, plush under yours. And suddenly that tailwind romance you thought was all fake feels so real as a spark of electricity zaps you. Or maybe that's more carnal, but whatever it is it feels so right. As if his lips were made to be against yours. And when you feel him kiss back roughly, hands weaving through your hair as he pulls you in closer you know that he must be feeling the same thing. You're floating. High in the clouds. Weightless. The sound of someone running past finally has the two of you breaking apart slowly. "Right next question, can we do that again?"

This time there's a fire behind the kiss as your hands grab onto his jacket and his tongue slips into your mouth. This time you know it's more carnal. Burning bright. Passionate. Hungry. Needy. But before it can devolve into public debauchery you reluctantly pull back, blush creeping up your neck as you see his molten brown eyes focused on you in a way that clearly states that he is indeed as dangerous as he looks. At least if your definition of dangerous is sex right out in the open at a very public park anyway.

"My turn. What's your favorite music?"

The rest of the date goes by too quickly and you learn about everything Yoongi related and he learns everything about you. You're positive that you've never learned so much about a person on a first date, or hell even by the third. You've learned his birthday, his favorite music, all about his friends, how he actually co-owns the tattoo shop and how that all happened. You've learned about how he came from a poor family and how he makes sure to send a little bit each week to help out on top of the apartment he bought them. Suddenly the $200 an hour fee makes a whole lot more sense.

By the time you're pulling back into your apartment, the two of you have already planned a date for next Sunday. And as he puts the car in park you can't hope but wish that somehow it was already magically next week. But when he pulls you in for a heated kiss and presses his forehead against yours before sending you off you're too much on cloud nine to pay any attention. You'll have to add that Yoongi is certainly the best kisser you've ever known to your mental file.

-------------1 week later---------------

Well, it's official. You're nuts. You'd like to blame Yoongi but let's be honest, all you needed was a little help to push you over the ledge. Except the problem is that before you were very sure of life. Completely comfortable with anger, bitterness, and believing that everything inevitably fails. And in some sick twist of fate, his words have been playing back in your head over and over every single day for the last week. Before you thought it was all or nothing. Love was there or it wasn't. You get one shot at true love and if it fails then it never existed. Except now your world is flipped upside down.

Perfection is a fruitless endeavor. An impossible task. One with zero rewards. And what you've been looking for all this time is perfection. A perfect love. A whirlwind romance. But if it's perfect it's fake. It's all a lie. An elaborate performance. Which is mostly all you've ever gotten, granted usually in short-lived moments but sometimes longer. And when the curtains closed each time you thought, "this show wasn't a real show. I'll go to a better play next door." Except the play was still very much real. A part of you. A part of them. Which means that love is indeed real it's just not always very grand. But when it was there it was beautiful, you were just blind and ignorant in even the good moments. Unaware of the magic in small acts. But with Yoongi suddenly you want to see all the small acts. You want to not just see the show but be a part of it. Go behind the scenes with him. See how this plays out.

Which is completely fucking nuts. You're already talking about your entire worldview changing and the concept as something as obscure as falling in love with a man you barely know and have only been out on a date with once. It makes you afraid. It makes you feel free. It gives you options. It's like being able to use all of your senses at once for the first time. Except that's scary because there's too much coming at you at once. But it's equal parts exhilarating. You've been through every single possible emotion a person could have every day.

By the time your second date finally arrives, you're suddenly calm about it all. As if everything is right and the puzzle pieces to life are aligning and maybe just maybe you have a chance to see things differently. And while before you would have rather poked your eyes out than face rejection again this time you just want to see where this takes you. You aren't thinking so much about the end results, rather the journey.

Tonight Yoongi is taking you out to his favorite record store. While you don't own a record player you can certainly appreciate the aesthetics of vinyl. There's something oddly charming about them, even if it is ridiculously impractical in the modern world of space-saving technology and cramped apartments. Perhaps the impracticality of it is apart of the appeal, however. This time you aren't tripping over yourself to get to the door. But that's because you're standing right by it giving yourself a pep talk. Not that he needs to know that of course. After smoothing down your hair and doing a quick checklist in your head your pulling the door open.

This time he's wearing an oversized sweater but again the same tight black jeans. The man must have stock in them. Not that you blame him, it looks good after all. "You look great, babe." Heat blossoms on your face as his eyes scan you from head to toe, that signature lazy smile adorning his face before he takes your hand in his and leads you to his car.

"Still no motorcycle?"

"Nope, still don't trust that you won't freak out and kill me accidentally. Why? You seem oddly keen on the bike."

"It just looks fun that's all."

"It is. There's nothing better than a good ride, and you can take that any way you please." He winks at you, laughing when you scoff and punch his shoulder. If any other guy said that line you would have jumped out of the now moving vehicle, but for some reason when he says it you turn into putty. Maybe it's the charm of being absurdly good looking. Or that tattoos. The bad-boy charm. Or maybe it's because in all his infinite aloof glory he's just Yoongi. Comfortable and confident in his own skin without being sleazy.

The record store is quiet, playing a selection of upbeat jazz. Your brain is trying to figure out the tune until you finally snap your fingers and softly say, "Giant Steps!"

"You know jazz? Are you a secret Coltrane fan or something?" Yoongi is giving you that look. The look that says he's clearly analyzing you. Studying you. Dissecting your brain as you speak.

"Sort of. I dated this guy in college for years, he was a jazz major. His thesis was going to be on Giant Steps, it's been years since I've heard it though. Are you secretly into jazz, Min Yoongi?"

You watch him shake his head no as he scans the records before pulling one out. Outkast, ATliens. A great album, one that invokes nostalgia. He quickly puts the record under his arm before he continues searching. "Nah, I'm more of a blues guy myself. Nina Simone. Etta James. Bill Withers. The building blocks to all modern music. At least hip hop, R&B, and all the subgenres of rock."

"You know an awful lot about music considering you're a tattoo artist. What's the background story on that?" You peruse next to him as you speak, flicking through the music slowly.

"Once upon a time I wanted to be a rapper." There's something far off about his voice. As if he's reliving the memories. A gentle smile on his lips as he shakes his head as if to push them back into their little file in his brain to not be disturbed for some time. "But I had bills to pay. I'm not complaining though. I love music, adore it. But I love what I do too. It's almost like trying to pick between your two children. You might actually have a favorite, but it changes depending on the day."

"Let's hope you only have one kid then."

"Nah, I'm going to have a horde of mini Mins. Take over the world with them and overthrow capitalism. It's my diabolical plan to get housing prices back to normal and get student debt forgiveness."

"And how exactly do you plan to have this army of darkness? Polygamy? A sex cult?"

"God that just sounds exhausting. I can hardly keep up with you let alone more women. No, I think I'll actually stick with two children. You know, just so on tough days I can look at one and go 'ah yes today you didn't fuck up.'" You pray that he doesn't look over to see your cherry red face. He in a way made it sound like he's thought about children with you. Clearly, that's not what he means but now your mind is wandering. Mini mins. They'd be cute. Probably slightly evil but cute nevertheless. They might be born glaring though. Or smirking instead of crying.

"What happens when they both fuck up?"

"Then I've got you." Fuck, he was implying you. Holy shit. Holy shit. Act natural. Don't look at him. "Ooh look! They have a Frank Ocean Blonde vinyl. Unopened this bad boy is worth a few hundred. Man, I can't believe how cheap they're selling it for." He tucks it under his arm before cataloging through some more. For a short while the two of you work in silence, falling into a pattern that when you stare at one for just a little too long he's plucking it out of your hands and refusing to listen to you protest.

By the end of it all, the two of you are walking out with a dozen records after learning a wealth of information on all of Yoongi's favorite artists. You also learned that once upon a time his rap name was 'Suga.' Which led to you immediately and passionately singing Sugar by System of the Down quickly increasing in volume until he clamps his hand over your mouth and stares at you with the rage of a thousand suns. Totally worth it though. Especially when the dude behind the counter picks up where you left off.

Dinner goes by too quickly. You wish you could freeze time, force it to slow so you can languidly explore his world. It's with a heavy heart that you unbuckle your seat belt before leaning over and pulling him into a heated kiss. One that makes your head spin again and proves that the first date wasn't a series of flukes. Nope, Min Yoongi really does have a skilled tongue. When you pull away you can see stars in his eyes, his hair ruffled and cheeks red as he tries to even out his breathing. The most dangerous part about Yoongi is his duality. The way he can flit between sexy to cute and somewhere in between without trying.

------------2 months later----------

You've lost count on how many dates you've gone on at this point. He's taken you out on his bike finally to go stargazing. Out to plays and art galleries. Sometimes you've just stayed in and watched movies together. You have lunch together at least twice a week now, grabbing coffee together for a short reunion in the mornings after spending all night talking about everything and nothing over the phone. It's as if a time before Yoongi didn't exist. It's comfortable. Oddly easy.

It's to your chagrin and surprise that you learn that Yoongi wants to take things slow. He doesn't rush you into bed. He's the perfect gentleman. A punk Disney prince, albeit with a sharp tongue. No even after the third and fourth date when you try to heat things up he's quick to pull away and tell you that he doesn't want to rush things. Not with you, he says. He wants you to trust him first. He wants you to be truly comfortable first. He doesn't want you to think that he's only in it for that.

You get it. In fact, in a twist, it actually makes things hotter. But the build-up is getting almost painful now. The sexual tension mounting to epic proportions. Your poor vibrator would hate you if it wasn't inanimate. He wasn't lying about loving cuddling. He's also apparently a man of extreme patience because no matter how many times you've felt his hard dick against your ass mid-spooning he's refused to act on it. Or let you. It's left you more than slightly frustrated on multiple occasions. It also wasn't helpful that it, in turn, made you an awkward mess. In fact, you remember jokingly mentioning some gibberish about your starfish quivering to try and crack the tension and for a while you thought he would never let you live that terrible joke down. Starfish, really? What were you thinking?

What you belatedly realize though is that his master plan fucking works. Because somewhere along the way you started letting down your guards. Somewhere along all your dates, you find yourself falling. Allowing yourself to be human. Allowing yourself to stop fearing love. Allowing yourself to trust. Without fighting it. Without running. It's no longer terrifying. It's no longer something that gnaws at you in the chasm of anxiety.

And just shy of three months into dating Yoongi you realize that you love him. Love. Abstract. Intangible. Yet not. It's the way he looks at you. The way he holds your hands. The way he thinks about the things that make you tick. The way the two of you try to find joy in the tiniest of things. Marie Kondo would tell you that you've finally found something that sparks joy. But it's not just from him. No, even when he's not around you feel lighter. Freer. Happier. You're still sarcastic. A bit of a bitch. But this time it's no longer from a place of longheld bitterness and pain, rather it's from your twisted brand of humor.

This realization comes to you as you after hanging out with Yoongi's friends and coming back to his place to just chill and listen to his vinyls. When his thumb soothingly rubs your hand as you curl up into his chest. It's so natural. So right. "I love you." The words come out a soft sigh, muffled slightly into his chest but he hears them loud and clear.

Yoongi twists, pulling your face up to his. "Did you just say you love me?"

"Min Yoongi I love you." You don't expect to hear anything back. You aren't saying it for affirmation or reciprocation. You just want him to know.

"I don't think I've ever heard better words. Say it again." That gummy smile is back. The one that stirs up butterflies. The one that warms your soul. The one that you fell in love with.

You swing your legs over his lap, straddling him as you stare into his eyes. "I. Love. You."

"God, you don't know how bad I've wanted to hear that. I love you so fucking much. So much. Holy fuck. I want to kiss you, can I kiss-" Before he can finish the sentence your lips are on his. Soft and pliant under yours, a lingering taste of leftover chapstick and nicotine. It's captivating. Dizzying. It's so easy to get drunk off his lips. His taste. The soft groans that leave him. Tongues intertwine as his hands roam your body before landing on your ass with a firm squeeze. It's messy. Needy. Sloppy but full of passion. As if you're the only cure for each other. Each emotion lingering in the air. Your hips swivel down, grinding against his pants as one hand weaves into your hair to pull your neck back and attach his lips to there.

You can feel the small bruises blossoming already. Love bites and harsh sucks leave cherry blossoms along your neck, mirroring the pattern of his own tattoo. Quiet moans of need are spilling out, desire pooling into your panties each time his teeth scrape against you. "You, doll, are the hottest thing I've ever seen. I could worship you. Dedicate a temple to you. Can't wait to feel you. God, I want you so bad. I love you so fucking much." Each word spills out from him like a deep moan, reverberating through his chest and chewing them off at the end. A loud mewl of satisfaction leaves you. He loves you. He loves you. You're in love. Over the moon. How could you ever think that love wasn't for you? How could you ever give up? How could you honestly think that you were destined to be a spinster when a man like him wants you?

His hands claw at your shirt, quick to remove your bra and leave you partially bare. Even with the slight chill seeping in through his apartment you still feel feverish. Each time his calloused hands roam your skin you can feel your temperature increase. God, you've never wanted someone so much. It's almost an out of body experience. Sex elevated off the mortal plane. You swear you might cum just from him touching you at this rate. His lips brush against your nipples before biting down, one hand reaching back into your hair as you arch into the touch.

"Wanna touch you Yoongi. Wanna feel you." The words come out drunkenly. Wobbly. Laced with honey through your swollen lips. When his grip lets go of your hair you lean down to his neck, pressing kisses around his tattoo, tongue laving at the branch as your teeth scrape against his soft skin. The deep moans hiccuping out of him are music to your ears, urging you on as your grind against him. Desperate for friction. Desperate for release. Your hands toy at his shirt before finally breaking away to pry it over his head. Your eyes dance over his half-naked form, taking in the sight before you. Almost every square inch is covered, ink swirling around in intricate stories. God, you're about the fuck the hottest living canvas.

His chest is heaving, breathing uneven as the two of you make eye contact again before lips come crashing together and he's picking you up. Carrying you out of the living room and into his bedroom, stopping occasionally to push you against a wall just to latch onto your neck or chest. By the time you make it to the bed, you're sure that for the first time in your life you could actually forgo foreplay. You're so wet that you can feel it seeping through your underwear and leaving a mark on your jeans. He stumbles onto the bed, your head hitting the wall with a loud thwack that has both of you pausing for a moment. "Shit, are you okay?"

"Mmokay, take your pants off." You rub at the sore spot before reaching up to place a reassuring kiss on his lips. You hold your breath as you watch him strip, dick springing out proudly. Smeared with precum. Red. Throbbing and twitching. "You don't wear underwear?"

He looks almost bashful for a moment. "It's laundry day actually..." At the sound of your giggles, he takes the opportunity while you're disarmed to unbutton your pants, freeing you from your jeans and leaving you in just your flimsy lacy panties. The mood shifts back again when you see the hunger in his eyes. As if he's staring at a feast. "Christ, can't wait to taste this pussy. Make you cry my name." His hands are shaking slightly as he slowly pries your underwear off, eyes narrowing on the way your juices stick to your underwear finally tossing it off the side of the best.

"Please taste me, I need you. I can't wait."

"Who knew you'd be so needy? So quick to beg for my tongue?" That usual lazy smirk is back on his face as he looks at you, hands hooking around your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders. His tongue flattens against your sex before you can respond, a choked moan drowning out your words. Jesus, he's good with his tongue. It moves slowly, languidly against your dripping pussy. Rhythmically. Diving into your folds only to swirl up around your clit, sucking lightly and releasing with a soft pop before going back down all over again. It's when his tongue dips even lower, swirling around your puckered rim that you can feel your eyes roll back and breathing cut off. Two fingers slip into your dripping cunt with ease, scissoring to stretch you. The dual sensation of his tongue on your ass and fingers filling you up has you clenching. Spiraling. Bright white flashing behind your eyes as a silent scream tries to leave your throat. Toes curling, his name finally rolling off your tongue as you chase the sensation, your orgasm consuming your senses. It leaves you dizzy. Panting. A mewling, drenched mess under him.

Through fuzzy ears you can hear his low voice, "God how do you taste so good? Fuck, I could watch you all day baby girl."

His fingers move slowly as he watches you return to earth, twitching underneath him at the oversensitivity. You feel so sated, but at the same time, you want so much more. The look in his eyes makes you hungry all over again. You want him to feel just as good as you. You look up with hooded eyes, hand wrapping around his drooling cock as you speak. "I wanna taste you too Yoongi."

His adam's apple bobs, hands leaving your thighs as he pulls you into another messy kiss. It's almost all teeth and tongue this time, a thin line of saliva breaks apart when you separate. You shuffle off the bed slowly, knees gingerly falling to the floor before looking back up as your tongue swirls around his head before pulling back to lick a long stripe along his prominent vein. You pepper tiny kisses along his base, one hand cupping his balls gently as the other one twists around his base. You envelop his velvety length in your mouth, working slowly into a steady rhythm. Each sigh from him, soft moans of pleasure spurs you deeper. Jaw aching slightly as you try to take him deeper, using your hand to help stimulate the places you can't reach. His hands grip your hair tightly as he reaches past your molars, pulling you off of him with a loud pop. "Sorry love, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that and I really want to fuck you."

You gulp at the way he's watching you. As if he's a predator and you're his prey. A feast for the night. You wouldn't have it any other way. He helps guide you back onto the bed, twisting you onto all fours as his hands glide over your ass. "Best ass I've ever seen. God, I've had so many wet dreams over this ass." His hand comes down sharply, the sting bringing a wave of pleasure to ripple through you as it soothingly rubs over. Your thoughts are quickly brought back to the throbbing between your thighs as his cock rubs against your swollen clit. "Please, fuck. God." You're incoherent, words stringing together slowly.

"What's my name doll?"

"Yoongi, come on. Fuck me before I bite your head off!"

"Yeah yeah, we'll see how much sass you have left in you when I'm done." You wiggle your hips impatiently as you hear him spit into his palm, adding lubrication before he glides into you. "Holy shit." He stays still for a moment as you spasm around the intrusion. He's just thick enough to have you crying out in pleasure, just long enough to have you seeing stars as he sinks deeper.

"Oh, fuck. Move, please move." You push back, sinker further onto him as he stays still before his hands snake around your throat.

"God, you are so mouthy. And as much as I normally love hearing you talk back right now I really just wanna fuck you." He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, balls slapping into your clit in a way that has you seeing stars. Each movement is harsh, quick, with stamina and vigor you didn't foresee him having. The feeling of his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off just enough circulation to stutter your breathing, has you gasping and rutting underneath him. Fuck, was sex supposed to feel this good? In your fucked out state, you can barely make out the sound of him chuckling darkly behind you. "Look at you baby, already fucked out and I've barely started. Do you wanna cum again baby? Already?"

"Fuck, please. Don't stop!" Your high pitched begging has him drilling in deeper, his free hand moving off your ass and onto your clit in quick circular motions that has you clenching around him. This time your orgasm is earth-shattering. Loud. Wet. When his hand finally lets go of your throat you face plant into the pillow, legs shaking around him as he keeps moving.

"You're so beautiful when you cum, did you know that? My pretty baby girl, all fucked out on my cock. Now that's a sight I never want to stop seeing." Another loud smack to your ass has you sobbing into the pillow, moans spilling out as your release gushes around him. "Jesus, how is your pussy so fucking wet? Are you always this wet?"

"No. It's just for you Yoongi."

"That's right. This pussy is mine, isn't it? Say it, doll."

"This pussy is yours Yoongi, fuck. Hold on, I wanna ride you." He stutters, pausing before pulling out so the two of you can shuffle around. You smirk as you crawl over his lap, one hand holding onto his cock as the other grabs his arm while you sink down. You're sure you look a fucked out mess, but so does he. Sweat is making his fringe cling to his forehead, kiss-swollen lips, hickies covering his neck visible even over his tattoos.

You neck snaps back as you sink down completely, the new angle bringing him right to your g-spot and making your legs shake in overstimulation. You fall forward onto his chest, pulling him into another kiss as you circle your hips in small figure eights. You bite down on his lower lip, pulling it between your teeth as you reach behind you and gently roll his balls in your hand. You delight in the way he groans, eyes rolling back at the sensation. "Keep doing that and I'm not going to last (y/n)."

"That's the point. Come on, cum with me Yoongi." It doesn't take much in your overstimulated state to get right back to the point again. Hanging over the edge as you dip your hand down to circle your clit, relishing in the dulcet moans from him as the two of you climax together. His nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowing as he grips at your hips as you ride him into his own orgasm right after your third. It doesn't take long before he twitches inside you, painting your insides white as you slow down. At the feeling of him coming to his own completion you slump forward, your head falling into the crook of his neck as his hands circle your waist.

"Wow. That might easily have been the best sex of my life."

"Yeah, that was, wow." Your breathing is still unsteady, legs shaking as you feel him soften inside you.

"Did you realize you squirted?"

"Ah, yeah. Sorry to break your heart but that's actually somewhat normal for me."

"God that is so fucking hot." You laugh into his neck, exhaustion taking over as you sigh. "You know, the first time I ever saw you I knew. I just knew. You were all sass and fire, and I just knew that you were it. You were the one."

You wish you could reciprocate and say you thought the same thing when you first saw Yoongi, but you suppose it's better late than never. "I never would've guessed when I first met you that you liked cuddling, or saying such cheesy lines, or absolutely hated scary movies."

"Yeah, but you love that about me."

"Yeah. But I'm pretty sure I just love everything about you Min Yoongi."

"You know, when you say my full name like that I get oddly turned on. Do you think you're up for a round two in like, half an hour?"

You really should say no, you really just want to sleep. But just the thought has your mind spinning. Lord give you strength because you're going to need it, or at least better stamina, to last in survive this man.

You never would've guessed that love could feel so right. So natural. So normal. It isn't always a crazy spark. It isn't all fire and passion, even though it certainly has its moments. No, it's softer. Gentler. It grows and evolves with you. It changes. It takes work. And the two of you do somehow make it work. Even after moving in and trying to learn how to love someone when there's only one bathroom. Even after you get married and fall into a routine. Even after you get pregnant and go a smidge hormonally insane both times. Even on days when both of the kids drive you batty. Even when they leave home and leave you with an empty nest all over again. Because love is something beautiful. It's something innate within us all, it's just a matter of both parties wanting it enough. Working at it enough. And whenever anyone asks you what love means to you it was simple from that day forward. Min Yoongi.

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