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ultfreakme · 1 year ago

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Riki's Thai BL drama recs!

I'm pretty sure 99% of anyone following me don't usually watch these considering I was an anime/manga blog, then a comic blog, an ATLA blog and only very recently an unhinged Thai BL blog but hey! Maybe I can convert some of y'all to the dark side so here are my recs in no particular order!

A Tale of Thousand Stars

I lied about the order, this one's my top favorite hands down.

Plot: Tian is rich, young and spoiled but his seemingly perfect life takes a turn when he learns that he's suffering from a terminal heart disease which requires a transplant to save his life.

With little time left to live, he grows reckless and is rushed into a heart transplant after a car accident. He learns that his new heart is from a young volunteer teacher named Torfun who died in a car crash.

Feeling undeserving of his second chance at life, he follows Torfun's footsteps and becomes a volunteer teacher, using her journal to learn that she wanted to fulfill a wish- to count a thousand stars at the remote and distant Pha Pun Dao Cliff. He also learns that she was growing very close to a forest ranger named Phupha.

Phupha thinks Tian is just another city kid volunteer here to take a few pictures for his socials and leave, without giving proper care to the children and villagers he protects, but as time passes, Tian and Phupha grow closer as they learn more about one another and themselves, with Tian realizing that his motive to stay at Pha Pun Dao has grown from being about Torfun, to his own blooming ties to the villagers and the children he's teaching and perhaps... a particular forest ranger too.

My Thoughts: OKAY this??? This is a freaking beautiful show. The plot and pacing is very well done. The show sinks you into the village of Pha Pun Dao and makes you fall in love with the village the same way Tian does. The side characters and village residents are all unique and charming, the children Tian teaches are adorable and you really get to know the setting and understand why both Torfun and Tian are so attached to this place.

It's a story about gaining back freedom, about finding yourself and finding community. Tian is an amazing protagonist who grows and learns from his mistakes(and boy does he make a lot of mistakes). Phupha is a little cold and closed off but he's charming and so clearly cares and puts his entire heart into the village.

If you enjoy classic slow-burn romances with amazing chemistry and character development with an almost fairy tale-like quality, this one's for you.

2. Triage The Series

Plot: Tin is a third-year ER resident student who's forced into a time loop until he is able to save his patient, a university student named Tol, who seemingly got into a drunk-driving accident. Tin is forced to figure out a way to extend the time he's been given to save Tol, and in the process, he learns more about him and the two fall in love. But what do you do when your lover forgets you every time the clock resets? How do you save the man you love?

My thoughts: The plot is exquisite chef's kiss. The execution is so good every episode makes you want to immediately catch up on the nest. Tensions are high, and while at the start you wish for the time loops to just stop much like our main character Tin, we start wishing for more loops, more chances, as we get to know Tol.

It's a story about how people can change and should be given the chance to do so. How forgiveness, communication, empathy and understanding are key to better ourselves and others. Tin starts the series off as an indifferent, jaded medical student who believes there is no justice due to a past tragedy in his life. He has no motive to save Tol other than to get back on with his life but as he gets to know more about Tol, he starts seeing how significant and important every decision is. Tol is arrogant, spoiled and unaware of the effects he has on the people around him but he grows through his relationship with Tin and does his best to better the lives of people around him.

The side characters are so fleshed out and play important roles, the romance is interwoven with a much darker storyline that starts unfolding through the side characters. The time loops are done really well and the show tries to be medically accurate when it can.

If you're looking for some time travel, plot-heavy, character-driven stories with a bit of an epic romance, this one's for you.

3. Laws of Attraction the Series

Plot: Chan is a high profile lawyer who takes cases in terms of how rich and influential he can get, and in this pursuit takes on the case of a rich politician's son who kills a 11 year old girl in a drunk-driving incident. He hopes to clear the son of charges and gain the politician as a client but the politician fires Chan with no warning. In his quest for revenge for this slight, and growing suspicious of the politician's motive for taking him off the case, Chan finds himself a client in the form of the 11 year old girl's uncle, Tinn, who has been seeking justice for his niece to no avail due to how powerful the politician is.

Tinn hates Chan's methods and motives, Chan thinks Tinn is naive for seeking justice in a system he knows is broken beyond repair. Despite this, they find themselves growing ever close to one another.

My thoughts: The story keeps you on the edge. Like you think you've got all the information, everything seems clear, until you start uncovering the case in further details along with Chan and Tin. You start off thinking 'yeah of course Tinn's right' and he is for wanting to seek justice for his niece, but Chan is also unfortunately right about navigating the legal system. The side characters are so distinct, I think this is the one drama that has you just as invested in the side characters as the mains. You will adore all of them, especially Chan's bff Rose and her gf Maya, and Tinn's grandma-Galaxia. The little girl, Tankhao is dead by ep 1 but she is a prominent character throughout the series and you grow so attached to her, it makes the case so much more personal and painful.

The production value is kinda...not the best, out of all the shows I'll be recommending I think it's visually the least good but you won't even notice it with the plot and the romance going on.

If you like plot-heavy crime and mystery stories with a morally dubious protagonist, this one's for you.

4. Moonlight Chicken

I'm giddy and already crying at the thought of this one

Plot: Jim(or better known as 'Uncle Jim') is the owner of a small chicken rice shop in a tourist hot spot that has faced a huge hit after COVID-19. He struggles to keep his restaurant afloat and raise his rebellious nephew, when one night, he sees a customer passed out drunk in the store. The customer- Wen- is instantly attracted to Jim and after a night out together, they have a one-night stand with Jim stating he isn't looking for romance.

But Wen's fallen hard and fast, finding a sense of comfort and safety in Jim who greets everyone with food and a smile, building a little safe place through his restaurant. Jim, who refuses to let any more people into his life finds himself falling for Wen, who is lonely and unable to move on from his past relationship.

In between this, Jim's nephew Li Ming finds love with an isolated boy named Heart whose parents keep him away from people due to him being deaf. Li Ming's isolation and hopelessness from hsi financial circumstances, and Heart's isolation due to no one around him accommodating his disability leads the two boys to learn from one another and let each other find company and community through one another.

My thoughts: Look, look I know this story sounds basic as fuck, but this series is so on the nose about the queer experience. You see the generation divide between the young queers and older queers. The loneliness is so palpable and heavy.

Jim is the oldest, he's like 40, he's raising his nephew and running a business. He grew up in an environment where being gay was shameful with zero family support so though he is out about his queerness, he's still holding onto a lot of shame that was unfortunately instilled in him. Wen is about a decade younger and he's a lot more open, but understands where Jim is coming from and slowly shows him that lowering your walls and letting people in isn't bad. Jim especially is affected very much by all the restrictions queer people face legally(his ex's parents exploiting him and taking away all his money and assets because he and the ex shared a bank account but the parents claim it was solely the ex's).

Li Ming and Heart are teenagers, Gen Z. Li Ming doesn't understand Jim's apprehensions and worries and just wants to be himself. They're both gay, you'd think Jim would be immediately accepting but Jim's past experience is making him worry. Being gay has not been great for Jim, he had to run away from home and start anew.

This is also one of the few shows that show the effects of COVID. It's ALWAYS there. Every single thing in the plot is affected by it. Wen's relationship with his ex, his loneliness, Jim's restaurant, the entirety of Jim's neighbourhood being torn down- ALL FROM COVID. You just can't escape it and this entire show IS SO RELATABLE.

ALSO, Jim and Wen's chemistry!?!?!?! I feel high looking at them, Wen looks at Jim like he's the last glass of water in a desert where he's been lost for weeks, like he wants to eat that DILF alive, like he's addicted to him. Their kisses are just, so.....[unholy screech]. THIS is CHEMISTRY. If you didn't realize, they're the same actors from A Tale of Thousand Stars(ATOTS). They have perfected the art of longing gazes. If anyone looked at me like these two look at each other, I'll melt, I'll combust, I'll dedicate my life to them. And I think Jim and Wen's actors, Earth and Mix respectively, are super hot and very very good as actors(Earth is 29. this man looks young. but the way he ACTS fully sells the life-weary 40-year-old father figure to a teenager thing). Mix has the strange ability to make honorifics sound hot as fuck. In ATOTS, Mix calls Earth 'Chief'. In Moonlight Chicken, Mix calls Earth 'Uncle'. Now you might think the latter just cannot be hot under any circumstance but hear him say it, and you will understand.

If you enjoy slice of life romances that are character driven, focusing on the queer experience, you'll love this.

5. KinnPorsche: La Forte the Series

This is actually the Thai adaptation of Goncha-[gets shot]

Plot: Porsche is a down on his luck bartender who's trying to pay off his family debts in any way he can, participating in illegal underground fights to scrounge up money. On his break from his bar tending shift, a stranger runs up to him and offers him a hefty sum of money to protect him from people chasing after him. Porsche does so but doesn't trust the stranger- Kinn- to make good on his promise so he steals his watch.

Turns out Kinn is the heir the Theerpanyakul mafia family, and tracks down Porsche to hire him as his bodyguard.

My thoughts: You've likely seen extremely beautiful gifs from this series in wondrous colors as characters fuck each other senseless. Or torture each other, It really depends. All the shows I've recommended, I think, are better appreciated by an older audience, but this one is firmly 18+ officially. There's violence, gore, torture, sexual assault, drug abuse, alcohol abuse and a million other things that I forgot because my god this series goes to some dark, dark places.

Yes the sex scenes are great we stan but despite how thirsty the fandom can seem and how the show presents, there's so much more going on in the show in terms of plot.

It's kind of a tragedy, actually, especially for Porsche. The show is his corruption arc. He does things and acts in ways that he doesn't want because he fell in love with the wrong guy. They're trying to protect their love in a world filled with mistrust. I think the story is about cycles of abuse and violence, and the attempts to escape them.

For Porsche, he's stuck in a cycle of debts and being passed off from one ruling figure to another. In the beginning of the series, the debt collectors rule his life. As a bodyguard, the mafia rules his life. He's always under someone's thumb and he's trying so hard to get out.

For Kinn, it's the mafia. He doesn't want to be the heir, he doesn't want to do any of this but he has to because that's just what his family does. Porsche is a brief glimpse at escape but unfortunately, they're both dragged in.

It's not perfect, but it's so fun to watch.

If you like mafia romances that actually show the mafia side, angst, action and mystery, and are chill with all the trigger warnings this show has, this one's for you.

#thai bl #atots #a tale of thousand stars #moonlight chicken #laws of attraction #kinnporsche #triage the series

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aro-bird · 2 years ago

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The Alienation of being a Filipino Aro

There's a kind of cultural alienation that comes with growing up aromantic and no I'm not just talking about how most aros and arospecs would note experience relationships the same way an allo person would.

I'm talking about an isolation away from community and culture that becomes apparent when you really sit down and think about it. A sort of disconnect from your community not for the fault of your own but just by the mere fact that most of society didn't even know you could possibly exist.

I'm Filipino. In the Philippines, romance is an inseparable part of culture. It's not only liked by many as a concept and theme in their stories and discussions, but it's put on a pedestal. It's a pedestal that I could never achieve.

Most media references romance to some capacity. Children's media would have a lot of focus and emphasis on a romantic subplot even if that shouldn't be the main focus of the story. TV shows for adults, even if it should have little to do with romance like game shows, would make references to romance as a universal thing.

Despite the Philippines being one of the top producers of movies, you'd probably have a hard time finding anything that isn't romance save for the few horror films and the occasional comedies and action movies that constitute maybe about 3 movies a year out of the dozens made by the industry. Even indie films have a huge focus on love, romance, and relationships with the extremely few being dramas that drag or depressed the audience. Don't get me started about how 99% of music is about love and loss.

Outside of media, Filipinos are extremely romantic and not just exclusively with their partners. PDA is everywhere and is even encouraged. It is not uncommon to see students at school holding hands and cuddling on campus being tolerated and even celebrated as long as they don't kiss in front of a teacher. This would be fine if people weren't force to participate in it.

From early on in elementary school, children would exchange gifts during Christmas as they sing out loud "I love my Monito/Monita, yes I do!" as they play secret santa, with gifts exchange between kids of two different genders being met with typical romantic teasing. It's a pretty common question in playground discussions to ask who your crush is and if you didn't had an answer, you would be called a liar if they don't outright call you weird.

Friendships with someone who isn't your own gender (heck even friendships with someone who is of the perceived same gender too) are often met with romantic teasing and ceaseless inquiry. Even people you've only talked to once, without any indication of goodwill, or even positivity, gets you years of teasing and harassment from school boys that think they're being cute. Some of these people even thought it appropriate to drag me into a "chain booth" where they would tie me up with another boy in class just to tease me. The fact that this is seen as something romantic let alone acceptable is beyond disgusting.

Even adults push this narrative of romance and relationships to the point that you probably couldn't last a single day in school without teachers talking about the woes of romance and love to try to seem hip with the kids. Poetry nights arranged by language arts club are filled with desperate cries about their beloved and love that could never be which extends not only to the artistic events of the month, but even just the casual school-wide assembly. Poems that portray the unresponsive as a bad guy, as the heartless who dares not return affection. It was all alienating.

What happens to a person whose entire existence is not seen and not only not seen but dismissed entirely by the community? What happens to a person who can't find themselves in their own local media? To the person who can't relate to their community and peers? To the person being pressured to desire something that doesn't make sense to them? To the person being forced to be something they're not? All by their community and culture?

It's different for everyone, but in my case, I looked to somewhere else.

I found comfort in foreign media that didn't feel like it was talking down at me for not pursuing romance. I found comfort in English communities that didn't harass me and forced me to conform to an idealized romance. I found comfort in a place foreign, outside of the Filipino culture that does not have room for people like me.

This has made me avoid a lot of Filipino media, discussions, and communities even online. Why should I seek out a place that would fundamentally misunderstand me? That would alienate me and make me feel unhuman just as it did while I was growing up? That would pressure me to do things against my will?

It was empowering to find a community outside the community. It was as if I had found a secret club that understood me more than the people I knew for literal years. It was welcoming and warm and nice. Until things felt... off.

I look at this new community, this community away from community and realize something that has been bugging me for a good few months now.

This place also feels alien.

Discussions here may not revolve around a constant stream of love, romance, relationships, and heartbreak, but they are in a language spoken that's foreign to me. Not that the words being typed in English is the problem, no, even the shows back home speak loads of the language. It was something else.

The discourse was alien. The discourse was American.

Most of the discussions and the media around being aro places it squarely in the west. I've noticed that I even try to lessen my Filipino-ness at times when I would discuss my aro experiences despite the two being quite intertwined. I felt a bit of embarrassment just even thinking of bringing it up since it felt out of place. This didn't feel like the appropriate time to discuss this, but if not now, then when?

Discord servers, although international, are mostly filled with American aros and if not Europeans. Major blogs and resources are run by westerners who primarily discuss western issues and discourse. Those that try to cater to a more general discussion about aromanticism feels hollow as culture and community is stripped to its very basics to avoid alienating everyone else.

Now I'm typing this all out to reflect in it further. I'm still at this awkward place in figuring out how to handle these ideas. The reality that I'm not truly a part of my Filipino culture as someone aromantic, and the reality that I'm a foreigner to the aromantic community as a Filipino still messes with my brain.

I want to be clear, this is no one's direct fault. It is definitely more of an issue that a person only encounters when they don't fit the larger culture's idea of the standard, whether it be being an alloromantic Filipino or a western aro. I am not calling for all of the aro community to make space for me specifically just because I feel weird and awkward as a Filipino and I'm not calling on all Filipinos to keep checking on their amatonormativity just because I can't relate with their gushy romance.

Either way, I guess I have to try my best to create spaces for myself and open the discussion on both sides. Maybe I would finally start to feel less alien in my own skin.

#mayaposts #aromantic #aro #arospec #philippines #filipino #amatonormativity #filipino aro #queer #lgbtqia+#long post

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deusvervewrites · 2 years ago

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Descendant x True Liberation: Perhaps we may be able to see the impossible world without racial discrimination against the Quirkless...

I remember seeing an ask about some of the spy AUs crossovered and in one battle they needed to stop fighting and figure out who is fighting for who, and i remember deducting they all effectively worked for nedzu at the end of the day. It was the most amusing shit and i dont know where the fuck it is so i could laugh at it again.

what could be the greatest combo of AUs to make the most pimped out support crew UA has never seen before them?

correct me if i'm wrong but did griffinguy24 get the singularity OfA at the entrance exam idea from your ask game or did he come up with the idea and that im grasping at straws when in reality it's a coincidence.

Public Knowledge x Profane Torch: this combo looks like a bad idea considering what started Public Knowledge, at the end of the day, the hero removed the secret part of the secret war between OfA and AfO and it does not matter if the roles swap ngl.

what would be the best combination of AU crossovers to make the most OP Izuku Midoriya?

HPSC President: i forgot he did it intentionally but the fact he managed to survive long enough to cleanse the corruption without losing like, 50% to 99% of his dignity amuses me more, or i forgot a line or two... regardless... Rescue Heroes deserve more love than they do in canon ngl, not every living and breathing person is going to be thrilled when the #1 hero just defeated the 9,542,105,281,691th villain over being thrilled about people getting rescued out of a desperate situation. And gloryhog heroes deserve to rot in a ditch then after hell for all i care.

Homeroom Teacher Torino x Homeroom Teacher Miruko x Longshot x UA University: Nedzu needed more professors to teach his students, so he challenges Miruko to be one, get Torino onboard as a teacher for UA once more, and bails Nagant out to both spite the HPSC and get another professor onboard. unless i missed something lol

Class Vill-A x HPSC President: Izuku manages to make contact with his fellow schoolmates in 1-A and convinces them to make himself as the president of HPSC, so they could get rid of the cringe-ass nae nae baby of a system with ease, and if he turns after all the power gets to him, they'll be the first ones to turn him in and 1-A all agrees with his plan. though if i missed a detail, this would only be an interesting but impossible thought.

All Future Time-Travel Fix Its + 8&9 in time crossover: it's a hodgepodge of chaos when they all collectively don't understand how when they want something gone like MLA it was taken down already by a Future someone who had more resources than the others. Then later on, they all arrive at a round table and begin to properly coordinate on what they should do instead of it being a race of who gets to do it first.

Eraser Midoriya x Equivalent Exchange: this combo is weird ngl but i want something out of it lol.

Descendant x True Liberation: That's the goal anyway!

This one

Good question. I don't think any of my AUs specifically upgrade the Support Department though

849 predates the Singularity AU by a good while, and both were predated by multiple fics with the premise of Midoriya being able to hear the vestiges early. The earliest one I've personally seen is Imaginary (started 2019) and another one which I cannot find now but also predates us both by a good while. (The one where the summary is the vestiges freaking out and one thinks the world is ending)

Public Knowledge x Profane Torch: Yeah that'd really suck for Midoriya huh

I'm not totally sure. Depends on your definition I guess. Others, Magical Romances, Tamama no Mom, and Star Spangled are all good starting points

HPSC President: Midoriya knows what he's doing >:3

Homeroom Teacher Torino x Homeroom Teacher Miruko x Longshot x UA University: Meh I'm sure Aizawa's fine

Class Vill-A x HPSC President: Seems like a decent enough scheme to me

Eraser Midoriya x Equivalent Exchange: Well considering how he got Erasure it has some, shall we say, implications

#asks #descendant au #true liberation au #public knowledge au #profane torch au #hpsc president au #homeroom teacher torino au #longshot au #ua university au #class vill-a au #eraser midoriya au #equivalent exchange au #homeroom teacher miruko au

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karbisworld · 2 years ago

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✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓Introduction and writing list˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

Well hello there, I am a new multifandom writer around here and I am still trying to figure things out like being aesthetic and such so bare with me lol. I always loved to write, but I usually ran out of ideas pretty quickly so that's why: ✦˖ ݁ ˓REQUEST ARE OPEN˖ ݁ ˓✦ As I said, I am a multifandom hoe, meaning that I know a lot of the lore of a bunch of fandoms around here, I will try to write the ones I know so you guys can make requests! You guys can ask for "x reader" stories or for ships into the fandom, I do both （￣︶￣) A little ⚠️DISCLAIMER⚠️ is that I have ADHD, and because of that sometimes I don't finish the content of a fandom before joining it, so, I will write here the fandoms I only know only a little about so if you guys make request you can know if I can actually write things in a canonical way or not

✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓MY HERO ACADEMIA˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

⚠️WARNING⚠️ I've only watched like 3 seasons or so of this anime, so if you ask for a fanfic it might not be canonically accurate in the mha world or the personalities of some characters might be a little different.

CHARACTERS I WRITE:

Tenya (my beloved <3)

Bakugo

Kirishima

Deku

Denki

Aizawa (not student/teacher unless we don't talk about the UA but some college or something. I am not going to writer minor/adult)

And to not make the list extremely long, I basically write all 1-A class and some villains, you ask and I will do my best to write for you <3

✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓BROOKLYN 99˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

CHARACTERS I WRITE:

This is a yes, yes, all of them, I've watched b99 like 9 times by now, I feel capable enough to write whatever anyone ask me about this <3

✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓THE GOOD PLACE˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

CHARACTERS I WRITE:

Again as with b99, all of them, you can ask and you shall receive <3

✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓ABBOTT ELEMENTARY˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

CHARACTERS I WRITE:

ALL! Please someone ask me to write about this omg I love this show

✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓MODERN FAMILY˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

CHARACTERS I WRITE:

I can do all! Feel free to ask!

✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓STRANGER THINGS˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

CHARACTERS I WRITE:

I like all, ships and all, ask me and I will do <3

✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

CHARACTERS I WRITE:

All the brothers and sisters! The original 7 and the season 3 too!

✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓OTHERS˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

I have watched other animes, like JJK, Banana fish, One punch man, Devilman Crybaby, and some others more, tbh I can't recall all of them, but those are the ones I kinda know most to write, so yeah!

✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓RULES˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

WHAT I WRITE:

I have no problem writing smut, angst, romance, a little of mistery if you guys want, all that is a yes.

I am okay about writing of actors and celebrities as long as it is romance, I am okay writing smut for their characters as they're just that however I don't like the sexualization of a real human so, have that on mind please <3

In smut I am okay writing BDSM, Degradation, Praise, CNC (just in some cases), Dominant woman/man/nb, same as Submissive woman/man/nb, rope bunny/rigger and more.

⚠️If you request me to write something, please make sure to ask me if I am okay with your kink/idea before sending it if it's not listed in the things I am okay writing⚠️

WHAT I WON'T WRITE:

Anything that has to do with minors, unless both characters are supposed to be minors like in mha for example, however I won't write any kind of smut when there is a minor included.

I don't write gore.

I don't write anything that has to do with animals (sexually speaking).

✦˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ˖ ݁ ˓⊹˖ ݁ ˓♡˖ ݁ ˓✦

And I think that's it, thank you for reading <3

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weebsinstash · 2 years ago

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Bully romances are an entirely different can of worms, I love hate-reading them. It’s so frustrating cause the FLs always think with their vaginas even when the guy is their fucking bully/abuser and 99% the dudes are like. Committing felonies against the FLs/other students. The classicism also, cause most of the time it’s always a poor FL getting a scholarship to attend this super rich exclusive academy and she’s treated like shit cause they din’t think she deserves to be there freeloading of the “paying students”.

The synopsis always say “they tried to break me but I’m already broken by my shitty life dancing as a stripper as a 15 year old to support myself after the tragic death of my parents, they don’t know who they’re messing with” or “I’m feisty. I’m defiant. I’m not submissive like everyone else and I’ll fight them” and the book is them being walked all over and doing exactly the opposite. Like I understand not standing up to your bully because you’re afraid and you’re in a position where you can’t do that but girl do you HAVE to suck his dick the first chance you get???? It also has the same issue of 18-year-olds being sex gods who are like. Fucking teachers and getting away with it because money.

Anyways once I read a book where the guys where some on “next leaders of the world” bullshit so their parents would abandon these children in forests and have them fend for themselves and also learn to kill people and fly helicopters I shit you not. Ngl the “rich yandere bullies you, poor scholarship student” actually kinda 😳 juicy with the drama and toxicity potential but those books are just SO BAD.

Part of me is like, i feel like some bully romances could work but, idk, it depends on what you're consuming a story for? Like how sometimes we read angst and stories that are sad and have no happy endings because that's a different form of entertainment and catharsis you know? But if you're writing a story where the bully is the LI then at some point you have to confront all the horrible things they did and make them have consequences, otherwise you just have rhe protagonist getting, basically worn down until they're succumb in my opinion? Like that's one thing that bugs me when the bully aspect is brought up in these werewolf stories because they'll literally use pack dynamics and the mate bond to like brainwash their lovers against their will. Like there was one story I never even posted about that I dropped very quickly because the plot was "girl with strong wolf literally gets drugged with pheromones to have sex with her notoriously mean Alpha mate, she really doesn't have a choice, he wears her down enough that she isn't resisting by the time he decides 'oh I won't mark you by force I want you to want me'" but like, I'm trying to remember all the heinous shit he did? She didn't want to have sex with him and he orders her on her hands and knees and literally puts pheromones inside of her so she's aroused enough for them to have sex like that's drugging and coercion and rape like he literally puts her in the dungeon for a time out "until she learns her place"? And HES THE ML???? IM SUPPOSED TO LOOK PASSED THAT? Sorry I don't care if he spends 20 years apologizing. What is this mindset that some horrible things can be undone, like sometimes the fact you did it in the first place is enough to warrant consequences

You're hitting the nail on the head with that synopsis description bc before I pick a story I usually read the description and my god are some of them baaaaaad, and no grammar sometimes too 🙄 what is the vetting process for some of these? Some concepts just sound so kooky and also as an adult it can be skeezy when a lot of these stories are like, talking about minors in high-school having sex? Like sometimes they emphasize werewolves are naturally beautiful and sometimes they'll just basically sleep around with humans just for some warm holes that adore them and theres some fucked up mentality in that.

(As a side note I just found another audiobook thats like appropriate length and it seems high production value and even like the skill of the author is standing out to me 😳 but. I think the protag is the man in the relationship and I prefer when it focuses on the ladies but, lmao I guess more werewolf drama posts coming soon? Wow they make this girl bathe in the river and use an outhouse and she's the previous Alpha's daughter and an Alpha herself :/)

Tbh now that I'm, you know, getting older and I'm 26 now I don't mind toooo much when the male love interests are young but like don't throw that "he's only 20 and he's the richest ceo in the entire world and he owns a private island factory and owns 50 Bugattis and his dick is 10 inches" shit at me ok, and he's 20 and to me that means he might as well be like 16. Give me a man in his 30s or 40s. Where are the silver foxes. Let me fuck someone's fit grandpa. Reinhardt from Overwatch can still get in these guts

But yeah I really need to actually back into my phone bookmarks and catch up on all my manhwa again because a lot of them were really cathartic in terms of getting revenge and also, I didn't have to pay by the chapter for those 😅

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maatryoshkaa · 4 years ago

Text

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

3K notes · View notes

ateezmakemeweep · 5 years ago

Photo

richboy!seonghwa (part 22)

word count: 4k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 21) (series masterlist)

you had thought that after a few weeks, you and yeosang were gonna start to have hiccups. that your old banter and fighting and animosity towards one another would somehow rise to the surface, push past the sexual tension and attraction and show it's true colors again.

but your two-month anniversary was only a few weeks away and you two were still going strong. still exploring each other's likes and dislikes, annoying habits and quirks and finding out more and more that the unique magnetic pull between you two seems to be something very real.

if you guys weren't out on a date, walking through the park or trying out a new cafe, you were at his house, giggling and kissing one another before the night inevitability turned hot and heavy.

"you know, i don't think... we've ever finished a movie here," you tell yeosang breathily, the boy's strong hands on your waist as he kisses down your neck.

you had been testing him all night, curling yourself on his lap and wiggling with just a little too much purpose. wrapping your arms around his shoulders and ghosting your lips over his. running your fingers through his hair and letting your nails lightly scratch his scalp.

because you just love his reactions, love watching him smirk and try to ignore you until he eventually snaps. but he only hums against your skin, grounding you down more on his hardening groin causing you to let out a shaky gasp.

"maybe because you can't keep your hands to yourself," he says before pushing you down on your back, pressing his body against yours and taking your wrists in his hand.

you smirk at the sight of his red, puffy lips and messy hair; this is what you've been waiting for. his grip on your wrists as your arms stretch above your head, his ticking jaw and dark eyes shooting a jolt of excitement and warmth through you.

"you play with me on purpose, don't think i haven't caught on."

you lick your lips before pressing them into a firm line, attempting to show a look of indifference as you shake your head innocently. "i don't know what you're talking abo-"

his lips crash down on yours and you smile against them, arching your back in his hold before wrapping your legs around his waist. his hand tightens around your wrists ever so slightly at the new position, his tongue peeking out to invade your mouth.

you guys hadn't gone that whole way regarding sex but you've definitely done more than make out. because the amount of times his fingers have slipped inside your thong on this couch, your chest pushed flush against the fabric of the couch as you kneel between his legs and take his length in your mouth, was just a little embarrassing to think about. it had gotten to the point where he immediately invested in a set of blinds for the glass door.

and your teasing proves to be a success because, with your wrists still in hand, he's quick to pull down on your leggings and underwear with the other and circle around your clit. you moan out his name and it only spurs him on to apply more pressure before his pinky finger slides in your wet entrance.

"yeosang," you whine. because he knows that's not enough even though he already has your legs shaking.

"shut up," he growls, something hot and tingly burning deep in your stomach; it's incredibly ironic (and actually a little shameful) how quickly you listen to his harsh commands when you're under him opposed to in your normal day-to-day life.

"you do this to yourself every time, baby," yeosang mumbles, awarding you another finger when you do indeed shut up, before bringing his face to yours and placing a kiss on your mouth. "now you're gonna sit through the punishment."

"a punishment you say?" yunho says, throwing his arm around you as he guides you to your 4th period class that following monday. "and what exactly did that entail?"

"wouldn't you like to know," you tease, bumping into him playfully before squinting your eyes at him. "i'm sure mingi could show you it firsthand though."

you were 99% sure the boys were about to start dating and was 100% sure they both had crushes on each other.

because it was so sickeningly obvious, their banter and touches and gazes that always look far too sweet and loving for them to claim they're best friends. you had always noticed it but it became increasingly obvious after the day at the amusement park, when mingi had come back with seonghwa.

his gaze never left the boy, his rare hint of smile only appearing when yunho looked his way or said something funny.

"him giving me a punishment?" yunho laughs out, "i'd love to see him try."

"why?" you squeak, poking him in the side as you wiggle your eyebrows up at him. "because you have a crush on him?"

"no, my love," the boy says simply, humor in his tone as he watches you lean against the wall outside your classroom. he looks side to side, making sure the boy didn't somehow just appear, before he leans down to whisper in your ear. "because he's the biggest bottom i've ever seen."

a loud laugh erupts from you as you hit your friend in the arm, "yunho!"

"what! i'm just saying, y/n."

"so you've thought about it, then?" you ask, brewing with excitement at the budding romance between your two best friends. but he only rolls his eyes and shakes his head, insisting it was as easy to pick up on as the sky being blue.

"but...i couldn't tell that," you say, eyebrows pulled together in confusion and then even more when yunho throws his head back in laughter. "what is so funny!" you whine.

"nothing," he teases, biting his lip before a familiar looking face catches his eye. seonghwa passes the both of you quickly, your eyes meeting as he greets you both with a small smile and wave before he disappears into the classroom.

"yikes," the boy says under his breath. "and how's that going?"

you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders because that's the only way you can describe it. your relationship will probably never be the way it was before, just talking about anything and laughing with one another carelessly; because now you're lucky if you get more than ten words out of him when it's just you and him together.

"he'll say hi and stuff, ask how my weekend was and if i'm doing okay with my work," you tell him, "but apart from that...eh."

yunho quirks his lip to the side in dismay, frowning at the sight of you dejected. "it's still hard for him, i guess."

"i guess," you sigh, "but i should go in. i don't want you to be late." he smiles softly at you, tucking a piece of hair that fell out from your ponytail before nodding. "i'll see you at lunch."

you nod your head quickly before walking into the room, taking your usual seat in the back and passing seonghwa who never did move back to the empty one in front of you. you sit down and take your books out, ready again to look at the board and ignore the sight of the back of the boy's head mocking you.

but if you thought that was mocking, your teacher's words ten-minutes later completely rendered you a speechless fool.

you had known about the presentation due the day before christmas break and you had known that it would be with a partner - but you didn't know that she'd be picking them and you certainly didn't know you'd end up with no other than:

"park seonghwa," you hear right after your name is announced. your eyes widen as your teeth sink into your lower lip before you notice the boy two seats ahead of you stiffen immediately. you know this is probably the last thing he wants and that he has every right to be uncomfortable but the reaction still hurts your feelings.

you hear the girl next to you let out an annoyed scoff, turning your head to see her eyes narrowed at you with a fire you were once so used to building behind them. it's been quite some time since you got bullied, everyone deeming you harmless and not worth their time for which you were grateful; you had even almost forgotten everyone and their mother thinks you're a poor beggar.

but perhaps that's because now they've switched up their material.

the teacher dismisses the class five minutes early, sharing far too much about the amount of drinks she had this morning and her weak bladder, leaving all the students free to chat and pack their things up before the bell.

and that's when the girl and her minion take their chance, sit on their desks and spin themselves around as they cross their legs in a lousy attempt to box you in.

"you must be pretty happy about your partner," one of them says, tone and smile sweet as candy but you know these antics far too well by now to think she's being genuine.

"and why's that?" you ask, not about to beat around the bush or entertain her juvenile behavior.

and apparently it pisses her off that you didn't go all doe-eyed and feign innocence the way you used to, hit her with a naive 'of course i am, seonghwa's one of the top students.'

"because isn't it time to bounce back to him now?"

your eyebrow raises at the comment in surprise, turning your head to the side in confusion. "what?"

the girls look at each other and share a snide laugh. "really? you were up his ass the first month and a half of school," the other girl chimes in, her eyes ghosting over seonghwa who's talking to the boy in front of him. "and then all the sudden you drop him and start dating yeosang, his best friend nonetheless?"

"i wasn't up his ass, we were just..we're friends."

but the sinister, bitchy smirks on their faces don't care to hear that.

"we were just innocent little friends," the girl mocks with a laugh before a hard, serious look crosses her face. "like you weren't a second away from dating him before another boy looked your way."

"sounds like you're a whore to me," the peanut gallery chimes in again.

"a total whore," the girl says, smirking as she looks at you with tears brimming your eyes as anger and hurt stir in your stomach. "it was very distasteful, y/n, playing the two of them like that. you could've ruined a friendship."

"i wasn't dating, seonghwa," you say quietly, the same way your mind has repeated that statement to you over and over and over again these past few months.

"but you would've," she's quick to add, "because everyone knew how much he liked you." the girl's eyes again graze over to seonghwa who's head is turned straight in his friend's direction. "but you really messed up with your whoring around, huh? since he's not over here defending you."

"how sad," the girl says, "but if he did, i'm sure she'd be with him next week."

"they share her. gotta making herself money somehow."

and that's when you've had enough, wiping a tear that's rolled down your cheek before your chair scrapes on the floor and you quickly make your way out the door. you text mingi and yunho, praying that one of them can get out so you don't have to have this breakdown alone.

and it's a breakdown seonghwa knows you're gonna have which is why he immediately jumps up from his chair and over to the girls, the look on his face so angry and full of rage they almost regret messing with you.

"how many times do i have to tell you bitches to leave her alone?"

their faces drop at seonghwa's profanity, looking to one another in shock that seonghwa can only roll his eyes to.

"we were just trying to stick up for y-"

"just shut the fuck up, how 'bout that?" the boy growls, "you two don't know shit."

the girl's look at him in fear, getting more and more nervous at the anger directed at them; but it does nothing to simmer the boy.

"she's been through enough from all of you and she doesn't need anymore. so just stop. fucking. talking to her."

the girls can only blankly stare at him, the rest of the class sensing drama and falling silent.

"do you understand me?"

the girls swallow nervously, not sure if seonghwa even noticed how much he got in their face.

"forgot how to talk?" his loud, harsh voice growls out.

and lucky for them, they remember how to and quickly rush out swears that they won't talk to you anymore. but he only rolls his eyes and sneers at them, plopping back down in his seat as his foot jerks anxiously in hopes to get out of this room.

and lucky for you, mingi gets out of his class immediately. he ushers you into the nurse's office where you spend the next period crying and venting to the boy. asking him if those girls were right and if you were using both of them during that time. because you've even thought to yourself how you were once so sure about liking seonghwa and convinced you'd want to be with him.

"you were allowed to be confused, y/n," mingi tells you softly, "you had one hot guy and another..cute-ish guy after you." you pout and hit him playfully when even during a pep talk, he still finds time to make a dig at yeosang. "and you hadn't even be here that long and they were both coming on strong. it was exciting and there was no right way to handle it."

you let out a tiny sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder as he pats your back in awkward but comforting mingi fashion. "you hadn't given yourself to either of them, you weren't indebted to be with seonghwa just because he was nice to you."

and deep down, you know that, you've known that. but it hurt hearing it from an outside source. which mingi is quick to clarify that they didn't know what they were talking about, that they only said those things to hurt you and that you shouldn't let it work.

"besides..." the boy says after a few minutes, after you've smiled and wiped your tears. "it's not like you kissed both of them or something."

your face falls when you see the shit eating grin on mingi's face, who's quick to take your face in his hand and squeezing your cheeks teasingly. "that was mean," you mumble out, words morphed by his hold on your jaw before you rip your face away.

"it was kind of funny," the boy says despite the smile not dropping from his face. you both hear the bell ring for next period and you watch mingi's eyes light up at the sound. "c'mon, are you hungry? i'll willingly share my food with you."

"fine," you grumble out, eyes narrowing at him as you pick up your things. "but like i'll get a chance, yunho eats all the fruit in two seconds."

a scoff leaves the redhead as he nods his head, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you both make your way to the library.

and in a sick, twisted fate, the two girls who attacked you in class pass you by. they're quick to look at mingi, his harsh glare and lip curled in disgust causing them to advert their gaze to his hand on your shoulder before looking you dead in the face.

"great, that's just great," you whine to the boy next to you, "and my body count raises to three. i can't wait for the shit they're about to say tomorrow, probably gonna tell the whole class i have an std or something."

a snort leaves mingi as he shakes his head and tightens his hold on you. "i love you but i don't know if i'd ever kiss you."

a sarcastic laugh leaves your mouth as you shake your head, being sure to look right at him when you say "that's because you're a bottom!"

he stops in his tracks and his arm falls from your shoulders when the words leave your mouth, a mix of shock, embarrassment and amusement on his face. "what..what did you just say to me?"

"don't think i don't know these things," you say to him, "it's as obvious as the sky being-"

"y/n."

the deep voice immediately causes you to turn around; you haven't heard him say your name like that in months. seonghwa's looking at you and mingi almost apprehensively, an unsure look on his face probably due to the fact he heard people ream into you about being a whore and using him...but who's to know really.

"hi, seonghwa."

the two of you hold each other's gaze amidst the busy, bustling hallway, the both of you waiting on the other to respond or say anything else. but mingi's quick to break the tension, despite his own confusion about being called out less than a second ago, telling you he'll give you two a minute and will see you in the library.

you and seonghwa both nod before walking off to the side, out of harms way from bustling students and oversized backpacks smacking into you. he's leaned against the wall, teeth between his lip as he watches you look at the floor and play with your hands nervously.

"are you okay?" he asks and the scene is so familiar, it brings the slightest pang of pain to his chest.

his eyes move further down, brows knitting as his stomach sinks because just the mention of this party has you nervous, has your hands folded into one another and fingers fiddling nervously; he feels the familiar feeling of guilt start to creep in his veins at that moment.

"come with me?" he mumbles suddenly, placing his warm hand over the both of yours and rubbing them calmingly before taking one in his grasp.

"are you gonna be okay tonight?" he asks quietly, taking a step closer to you and causing you to bite the inside of your cheek nervously, "i...we can do something else if you want."

a shy smile makes its way on your face, you heart warming at the gesture and the sincerity in his eyes. because it's so thoughtful and sweet and your heart continually melts when he shows time and time again how considerate he is.

but you don't wanna ruin the fun nor do you want that event to taint any other experience you might and will have. it appears though that even with your positive and strong thoughts, it doesn't translate to your body's natural nervous reaction. doesn't stop your stomach from feeling queasy or your mind start to race with the hazy memories.

you're suddenly very interested in the pictures on the wall behind him, eyes darting to take in the drawings and snapshots of the ski lodge throughout the years. the picturesque town, an overview shot from the ski lift at sunset, snow-covered tree, the-

his warm hand on your jaw moves your face ever so slightly so your eyes immediately fall back on him, your tongue darting out to lick your lips nervously and you don't miss the way his eyes follow it.

"y/n?" he hums, head cocked to the side as he looks at you, his gaze gentle and patient.

"no, i can...we can go, i'll be okay," you stutter out, your head turning to look at the table of excited boys throwing crumbs at each other.

"are you sure?" he asks, noticing where your gaze shifts and letting out a sigh, "they won't mind, you know."

"thank you," you say softly, turning back to him face, "but i promise it's okay, i...i think it'll be fun. we can dance."

a soft smile makes its way on his face and he has to suppress a laugh thinking about the kind of dancing you think is appropriate at a party.

"you're two left feet say otherwise," he quips, letting out a laugh when you smack his chest lightly.

"shut up!"

"yeah," you say quietly, ripping him from his memories as he finally notices your eyes on him. "i'm just...i'm sorry you had to hear that. it was embarrassing."

"they're just stupid," he says to you, the angry growl seeping back into his voice. "and they don't even know what they're talking about."

you swallow down the lump making its way in your throat as you nod at him, feeling grateful he's not standing here and yelling at you that they were, instead, absolutely correct. there's a few moments of a slightly awkward silence before a strangled giggle leaves your mouth.

"hey, at least they stopped calling me your poor maid."

and to both your surprises, he lets out a laugh as he shakes his head to the side. "i forgot you were my maid."

"hm guess i've been doing a shitty job, then."

another chuckle leaves his mouth and your eyes meet again, the guarded glint in his eye making you falter ever so slightly. but it only lasts for a few seconds, him quickly moving his gaze to the library before he mentions you guys being partners for the project.

"oh...yeah," you say, your voice dragging out at the end because you don't wanna say the wrong thing and make him feel weird. because is he gonna suggest asking the teacher to make a switch? or be completely fine and start talking about topic ideas and meeting places?

you don't wanna presume anything but then you're pleasantly surprised to find out it's the latter, him telling you it'll probably be best to meet in the library after school one day.

because he doesn't think it'll be...appropriate to have you back over his house or in his bedroom. and he also doesn't hate himself enough to try and put his weepy, fragile heart through that.

"so we'll start meeting next week after school?" you confirm, your bright smile causing his heart to constrict.

"yeah," he says, meeting your smile with one of his own and for a split second, you remember why your stomach and heart used to flutter to a dangerous degree.

you send him one last smile and take a few steps before he calls out your name again. you quickly spin back around to see his tooth in his lip, his hand on the back of his neck that you remember is a nervous tick.

"i'm not mad about anything," he tells you, "i know i've been awkward and distant lately but i...just need you to know i'm not mad at you, okay?"

you feel stupid tears sting behind your eyes, his soft voice and softer words causing you to smile and nod at him. and because you don't think you can get any other words out, you can only get out "okay."

"okay?" your voice confirms sweetly and a smile of his own finally makes it's way on his face. it's small but it's there and your stomach is fluttering at the sight of it.

"okay."

a tiny giggle suddenly bubbles out of you and he looks at you strangely, eyebrows furrowed but eyes holding a certain fondness at hearing you laugh after such an intense few minutes.

"did you see that movie?"

his eyebrow raises, eyes looking at you questioningly as he removes his hand from your face and a gasp falls from your lips.

"hazel and augustus? terminal cancer? the anne frank house?"

his look of confusion only deepens, looking at you as if you've spoken another language.

"i wish i had any idea what you were talking about," he says, sarcasm dripping in his tone and a scoff leaves your mouth as you roll your eyes.

"ugh and the stupid rich boy is back," you tease sarcastically, eyebrows shooting up playfully as you poke his chest daringly.

he smirks thinking back to you muttering to yourself in class with your flushed cheeks and babbling and he can't help but scoot a little bit closer to you in the bed.

you know the memory smacks you both in the face when your eye contact breaks, you taking a few steps back and him shaking his head as his gaze hits the floor. "see you tomorrow," he says gruffly and then before you can even respond, he's gone and around the corner.

you walk into the library with a sigh, plopping down in your usual seat and running your hands through your hair until yunho's bubbly voice pierces your ears.

"you told mingi he was a bottom? where did you ever get that idea?"

(part 23)

#this timeline is a literal mess #lets just ignore that ladies and gents #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #yeosang #yeosang angst #yeosang fluff #yeosang smut #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff

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clairelutra · 5 years ago

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vanilla107 replied to your post “.”

Why is ann your favourite character?

//INHALES

at first i mostly liked her because she had good vibes, y’know? also out of spite because you just KNOW the good-natured blonde valley girl is going to get shafted by most of the fandom and ~boy do i love being right~

AND THEN. she’s just. so. cute? LIKE!! ‘man sitting here makes me think weird stuff.... like if our seats are all about to blast off into space...’ at the planetarium. SHE THINKS SINGING IN THE SHOWER IS AN IMPORTANT MORNING ROUTINE, MAN!! SHE ONLY LIKES HER ALMONDS CHOCOLATE COVERED. SHE DOESN’T HAVE A CLUE WHAT HARD WATER IS. IDFK MAN SHE’S ADORABLE.

ngl, part of it is how warm akira is to her, too. other people get neutral/agreeable responses to their texts, but ann gets ‘of course i’m free’ and ‘i would love to’-type responses. (can’t quote directly but it’s fucking hilarious to hold his responses to her and his responses to mishima up side-by-side oh my fucking god i love them both.)

AND AT THE SAME TIME, SNARK.

“i mean... that’s why they call it ‘fake.’“

all the sweatdropping. all of it.

related to that: how she’s regarded in canon as easily the most gorgeous person around. “meow-verlous” and “she’s breathtaking” and “c’mon, don’t you at least think she looks better than a celebrity” and yusuke’s whole introduction is him thinking she’s just THE most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and NEEDS her to model for him.

she gets creeps left and right and she’s exhausted by them, but still does her best to be sort of polite.

and despite all that,,, she’s just so normal. exhaustion when people hit on her meets “as a reward, i’ll go out with you~ 😘” and it’s all just?? she’s gorgeous and she knows it, but that doesn’t mean she’s okay with being the object of unwanted attention, and that doesn’t mean she’s above playing her looks to her advantage.

just how utterly resilient she is? she gets down, and sometimes she just needs to be told things will be okay, but the sheer degree of things she can bounce back from is both astounding and inspiring. mah girl has a soul made of rubber, fam.

how she’s willing to take literally any excuse to think positive, whether it’s akira telling her things will be okay or it’s that guy who tried to kill them all showing remorse and regret.

how she just appreciates people both being real with her and positive about everything else.

veering back to shuann, i feel like akira has a lot of things to be negative about, and being around ann would force him to look at things in a rosier light. that would be really good for someone with a literal prison in their heart.

she’s a romantic!! she gets embarrassed going to sappy chick flicks alone because she works her way through several packs of tissues!! she gets all giggly and happy if akira says he’s looking forward to getting married one day while he’s dating her!! MARRY HER DAMMIT.

she’s just so emotive? so open? she literally can’t hide how she feels and it’s just?? aaaaaaaaaaaaa

again back to the shuann but it makes such a fun contrast with akira’s laconic deadpan. it just. it does, man.

SHE’S INTUITIVE LIKE DAMN. like!! she’s an airhead and a bombshell and she can pick up on subtle lies like idek how but she’s a fucking bamf

on that note: “i will rob you of everything...!”

she’s loyal and loving and kind and forgiving as hell and just... humble? she doesn’t take herself too seriously, she likes soy milk in her lattes, she’s the first to apologize when she realizes she’s in the wrong...

the ‘i love you’s!! all over the place!! both ways!! she’s just!! so!! affectionate!! i die!!!

more shuann that ann on her own, but: she’s the only romanceable who doesn’t have some explicit form of social power, and i just... find that... so interesting? i am 99% sure that akira gets off on fucking with things (people) that could fuck him over hardcore, but the only ‘power’ she has over akira is that love at first sight moment, all the opportunities to mention how gorgeous she is, the ‘i love you’s, just the warmth between them.

i dunno. i really think that implies something here.

(like, say, losing her trust would fuck akira up on the same level as having a genius hacker/reality-altering fortune teller/his pharmacist/a fairly big name reporter/his teacher/the student council president/the daughter of alternate universe mcdonals president/famous chess player after his blood.)

idk i feel like there’s more but this is what i’m coming up with off the top of my head.

#vanilla107 #ann takamaki #shuann #akirann #renann #takamaki ann #persona 5 #p5 #hallie speaks #long post #yes lots of it is down to her and akira being super fun foils i will not lie

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cupcakeb · 4 years ago

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What would you rewrite about Élite? And what would happen in season 4 with those rewrites? If the plot and relationships had to stay relatively similar? Can- and I hope the answer is long and rambly bc those are legit my favorite to read!!

Hmmmmm there are a million things I’d rewrite but I think if I got to choose just a few I’d say:

Carla gets to keep her S1 personality and never ~dates Samuel. I would’ve liked to see her and Polo grow closer over keeping the secret of what happened to Marina — she could’ve comforted him, they could’ve helped each other through the whole thing and I firmly believe they would’ve been able to keep it a secret. Her instantly falling for Samuel was the fakest nonsense I’ve ever seen lol

Similarly, I’d want Samuel to stay the youthful, fun, morally upstanding character we met in S1 and never have him get involved with shit like bullying Polo or asking Rebe to send someone to scare him — that was fucked up.

Nadia deserved to have a real voice and a personality, not just random judgmental moments when they fit the plot. I think a cool way to show her being morally ambiguous (because she’s obviously not the morally upstanding girl the writers pretend she is) would’ve been for her to stay friends, if not grow closer than that to Valerio in season three. This is assuming the nonsense sex tape (which from what we saw was her fully clothed because the writers were afraid to go for it) never happened. They could’ve handled the whole second culture kid thing a LOT better, I hated how they were so scared of backlash.

Ander also deserved to have a personality. Aron Piper deserved so much better. I’d scrap most if not all of the S3 bullshit — the super unrealistic portrayal of cancer, the absurd cheating storyline, the whole break up make up situation... just no. I think it would’ve been interesting to end Omander’s relationship in S2, when we clearly saw Ander isn’t willing to accept Omar being out of the closet and more true to himself.

More screen time for Rebeka. I think they did an okay job introducing her in S2, although I have to say I think I would’ve had her hook up with Lu or Nano during the Halloween episode based on chemistry alone. In season three she got a little more attention and we get to see small glimpses at what an interesting character she could be, so I would’ve liked to see that actually unfold on screen. I didn’t like how the show used her to basically prop up Samu’s character.

What would happen in S4 based on these changes? Hard to say since most characters left. I’d love to see

Omander no longer being forced together to please a fan base that is blind to their toxicity

Rebeka getting to hold a grudge against Samu for being a dick to her and her mother and not being forced to be friends with him again (this will 99% not happen and I hate it) and potentially seeing her explore a relationship with literally anyone other than Samu. Guzmán/Rebe could be kinda cool? I’m not a fan of the idea of having her date a girl just for fan service purposes now that people have been complaining about it, but I guess I wouldn’t be mad if that happened.

For the love of god, no nonsense pining. If they pretend like Guzmán is totally still hung up on Nadia who he never dated and sent the most over the top cheesy BS audio message to before she moved to another continent I will riot... I hope we see Guzmán return to old form; he was really fun in season one, I actually liked how he was kind of unapologetically a dick to people but a decent person underneath and am not a fan of how they pretended Nadia magically helped him do a complete 180° on having a personality

On a totally random level, I hope that hot older dude they cast gets to play a teacher and will be involved in a super cliché, taboo student-teacher romance. Stupid trope, but I’m a big fan and he’s hot, so. #priorities

Was this long enough? I think so!

#ask #as usual @ fans of the bad canon ships on this show pls dont kill me #elite

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jinniesmeow · 6 years ago

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good evening. this is a very long rant. if you’ve been tagged in this, it means I have a message for you :’) it’s at the bottom of the post, and that’s the most important part, so dear mutuals, feel free to just go read that part and don’t feel forced to read all that bullcrap I've written. thank you if you do, thank you if you don’t.

if we’re not mutuals and you’re reading this, well I guess thank you because this is hella long and cliché af. I'm sorry to everyone for this. though it kinda has nothing to do with what I'm saying, I was feeling particularly gay tonight and I'm in my feelings right now so yeah. if you’re willing to read, just click, you know how that works.

first of all, hello. thank you if you’re reading this, whether we’re mutuals or not, this isn’t a private post so if you’re reading this, hello to you, I hope you’re having a wonderful night or day and I guess sorry for what you’re about to read if it’s considered TMI. I don’t know everyone on here so I'll start with the basics. I’m zia, aka users jinniesmeow, yunholy, hwangitzy and very recently yuzukhei. I'm (almost) 19, and in case you didn’t know, I'm French. and Italian, fortunately or not, idk. 100% European and white anyway, and my ancestors were all 100% racist and homophobic (I mean Poland and Italy? come on.). My sister, who’s turning 23 this year (she’s not on Tumblr), and myself are the first generation in my family to be queer on whichever side of it it is you’re looking at.

Indeed, (if you didn’t know somehow, now you do) both her and I are pansexual. thankfully, our mom is far from being homophobic and racist and she’s a very open minded person, like really. neither of us have ever had a coming out, and none of us plan on doing it. I totally understand the necessity for some people to come out to their relatives and all that, but here’s why I personally refuse to do it: I don’t get why I have to tell people I'm not straight. I think it only fuels the fact that being straight is seen as the norm, because do straight people ever announce they are straight? exactly. being queer (gay, lesbian, pan, ace, whatever) is not abnormal, it’s not unnatural, so I refuse to have to scream it to everyone, and I don’t mean by that that I'm trying to hide my queerness, because I'm very open and honest about it, and I always have been. I hope one day, we won’t need to come out anymore and that people will stop assuming our sexuality. until then, I'll let people get flustered whenever I imply that I'm not straight without having ever stated it clearly before because fuck that shit.

anygays. so, like I said, I've always been very open and honest about my romantic and sexual orientation. I know lots of bi/pan people “realise” they are queer when they’re a bit older, during their teenage years or early adulthood, but (un)fortunately I am not one of those. I have literally always known I liked girls too (in the first place, I mean). actually, I’ve always thought attraction and romance were about the person, like, I mean it was an evidence to me ever since I was a child, and how can I explain that I got slapped in the face when I discovered that it was not a universal thing, that it was not “the truth”. so there I was, in the middle of elementary school, openly saying I liked girls in front of everyone because I thought it was normal. I mean, it is, but you get what I mean.

on top of that, the term “pansexual” has been occulted and invalidated for years, and most people didn’t even know of it until like maybe 3 years ago. remember, I'm 19, and there I was in middle school at 13 years old telling people I was pansexual when they’d barely even heard of bisexuality (while everyone else was like ‘I'm straight!! ew the gays’ btw). honestly, I cannot count how many times I've been called a pedophile, a necrophile and zoophile. by my very own friends, yes.

same with high school, but I'm not going to repeat myself. just for the precision: no, I have never been physically or mentally bullied for that, however, I was mocked a lot because of how tall I am (I was 1m73/5′7 at 14) and because I can be quite androgynous since I don’t have big boobs. I have large hips though, so those fucking males didn’t miss the chance to pick on me for that too. obviously though if I've never been full on bullied it’s because: 1. I've always had friends and I've never been a ‘loner nerd’, 2. I was tall and intimidating, 3. I was respected for my intelligence and grades and wasn’t being full of myself about being a top student, and 4. because I was neither fat nor a person of colour, obviously, and those are privileges I'm very aware of. I have still been called a ‘woman with a dick’ and other transphobic shit and was often treated as if I were a boy, though.

I still identify as a girl. I have been so, so complexed about so many things about my physical appearance for so long, I can’t count how many hours I have spent looking at my naked reflection in the mirror, feeling disgusted, wishing I had bigger boobs and that I would “look more like a girl” and so on. how much I have hated my body is something I can’t even measure. as of today, I've realised there is no such thing as “looking like a girl” and I've made a lot of progress on liking my overall appearance and accepting my body, sometimes I even think I'm hot™ and definitely think men don’t deserve me but for some fucking reason I can’t choose my sexuality (crazy right) and I still am attracted both romantically and sexually to them :/

anyways. now you know how long I've known that I'm a pansexual and throughout all these years, every time someone talked about the community or when pride came, no one mentioned us pansexuals, and I've seen us being invalidated so many times I really started doubting myself. I was like, “it’s like being bisexual, I'm just being butthurt and pushing it too far” but at the same time I never stopped calling myself pansexual. to some people, it’s just a preference in the choice of words to say you’re bi or pan, but to me there is a difference, even if it’s the smallest ever, and yes. being bi and being pan are “basically the same thing” and both orientations are very close but that very difference means everything to me. I am attracted to people, romantically and sexually, regardless of their gender. that is exactly it. and it’s very important to me.

I'm sorry if this is a mess, it’s hard to say things in the right order when I have so much to say, but I'm going to go back to what I was saying in the beginning about my family. I talked about my mom. my parents have been separated since I was 6 and haven’t spoken to each other in like 12 years btw. so, as for my dad, I know he wouldn’t care. he’s not homophobic, not racist. he does say homophobic and racist things sometimes, without realising it, like a lot of people do, and that doesn’t make him a homophobe. I know he doesn’t care if I'm gay, and I feel good just knowing that. however, remember, my family is italian. everyone around us is 100% straight (except for my cousins, I'm pretty sure one of them is bi-curious and the other is ace, but they aren’t open about this at all and have probably never questioned their sexuality lmao) and then there are my sister and I in the middle of it, and we’re like “yup, we’re the gay cousins”. the italian side of my family is huge. like really, my father has a total of 24 cousins (and I don’t mean the little ones and all that, I mean first degree cousins), so imagine how many of us there are in total when you’re counting everyone’s kids, spouses, grandkids and great-grandkids (you read that well, some of his cousins are old, some are even deceased). and they’re italian. and 100% into their religious set of mind that has them believe their god forbids being gay and that we’ll burn in hell. whatever, would’ve been going there anyway, gay or not so it’s not like I care, all the more reasons to be a fag.

and yes I have proof they are racist and homophobic, I've heard the things they’ve said. so, I, whomst has had depression for basically all her life and also has every existing form of anxiety there is, don’t exactly feel comfortable around these people. and on top of being gay, I listen to “Ching Chong music”!!! how do I have to put into words that I know exactly what they think of me? I even have blue hair now so like, blending in even less than before. so yeah.

to add on to that feeling of worthlessness, when I entered high school, I was still a top student without doing any type of work whatsoever, but then depression got the best of me (like for real this time how am I even still alive tbh) and I fell so hard I could barely stand going to school anymore. my last two years of high school (it lasts 3 years in France) have been disastrous. I barely attended and could barely manage keeping my grades above average, because I had zeros on 99% of my homework since I never did it. still had good enough grades on tests though, and it saved my ass.

honestly, I don’t even want to talk about these years and how I was feeling, because it’s still too fresh for me and I'm stil trying (yes, trying) to heal from it. I can say without a doubt that they were some of the worst years of my life though. however final exams came and my ass managed to get a really good grade without revising anything, this way I could send a big, huge, fuck off to my teachers who had been shitting in my face for years and making me feel like the hugest shit on earth. I hope they choke on their jealousy. then I went to uni for about three months, where I majored in English, but eventually decided to stop because I couldn’t go a day without having a panic attack on the train, because I still couldn’t get my ass to do any work, because I was bored out of my mind and just when I had started feeling better after leaving high school I was sinking further down. I spent months staying home without seeing anyone but my mom and doing nothing but watching Netflix (the French catalogue isn’t as interesting as the American one btw). then, I finally found the guts to go see a therapist. not gonna say it was a mistake, but I'm glad I stopped because this bitch was just here to take my money. I took antidepressants for a few months, and I have stopped really recently, actually. in all honesty, I have gotten much better, thanks to my own doing, I've worked so hard on getting better and I'm proud of how far I've come.

today, I can finally say for the first time ever in my life that I am proud of who I am.

the whole point of saying all of this shit you have (maybe) read is not because I want people to give attention to me or anything like, I don’t want pity or anything and truly don’t think there are any reasons for people to feel any pity towards me. I'm saying this because I want to thank the people around me for just existing, for supporting me, for making me feel validated. because you might not realise it, but (a lot of) you are often talking about your problems, and it makes me realise that I'm not the only one feeling this kind of way. it makes me realise there are people who might understand me, even just a little. and when I see you talking about your sexual/romantic orientation (or lack of so) it also makes me feel accepted. I see you guys reblog such validating things, and then some of you even have pride flags in your layouts, and you have no idea how my heart feels about it. if you weren’t aware, I'm a twitter person. I've spent so much time on there, I have met lots of people, lots of which are part of the community and openly supporting it, and yet I have never felt more validated than since I've been on here.

I've also met the people I consider “the most” as my internet best friends on here, like my best best internet friends, if that makes sense lmao, and not actually on twitter (although I might be pushing it because I have actually gone from IVL to IRL with most of them so like... whatever.) point is: I have met amazing friends I'm so thankful for on here. and all the people I see in my dash, to all of you, thanks for everything too even if we don’t really talk and if we haven’t had actual discussions before. now if you want to, you can always come to me to talk about whatever the fuck you want.

so, here, I want to thank all of you, because today I'm finally starting to think maybe, just maybe, that I want to keep on living and that good things might happen to me. I have no plans for the future, since I never imagined myself getting this far in life, but I'm still willing to give it a try.

please, if after you’re reading this, you’re thinking about telling me cliché things about staying strong and all that, I'm going to ask you not to do it. it just feels like pity to me. or choose your words wisely, I'm begging you, because I can’t stand thinking anyone would pity me. please don’t feel like that, that’s not the point of this.

I'm doing this as a thank you, and as a message to everyone out there who’s read this. I hope my words mean something to you. maybe help you? it’s ok to be confused about who you are. it’s ok not to like yourself, it takes so much work to get better and all that, but just know that you can do it, it is possible to do it. it takes time, it will hurt, but it’s an option. it’s not impossible.

now. I have some people I want to send a quick message to. I guess some of you will be surprised, but just read what I have to say please, and know that from the bottom of my heart, I mean it.

@hwangwhatjin Emily. I don’t even know where to start, and soon I won’t even be able to see what I'm typing anymore because the tears I've been fighting while writing all this crap have started flowing all of a sudden the second I typed your name. you’re the first friend I made on here. we started off nothing, and I was a no one, and yet you still talked to me and all that. you’re honestly one of the most tolerant and kind people I have ever met in my life. you’re the exact opposite of prejudiced, you’re so open minded, so not giving a shit about other people’s quirks (I mean it in the right way) that don’t concern you directly, like people are who they are and you don’t give a damn about it, it’s amazing. I know this doesn’t sound like a compliment, but I can’t find the right way to put this. you’ve also always been there to listen to me whenever I wanted you to, and you have never judged me once. you have no idea how thankful I am for having you in my life. I wouldn’t want to have anyone else hold the title of bro. I love you so, so much, and I'm sorry we haven’t been talking lately. I hope I can help you just like you’ve helped me and support you as much as you need me to in the future, and I want you to know I'll always be there for you, I'll never let you down. you have no idea how much I can’t wait to meet you so I can wrap you in a blanket and give you hot chocolate while I light up a gingerbread scented candle (yes, I remember) and put on some blink-182 and stroke your hair because it’s what you deserve. you’re one of my best friends, like ever, and it’s such a pain we’re so far from each other, fuck this damn channel. one day I'll just swim to you to hear your wonderful accent you say you hate so much. anything to see you. I'm sorry I'm so old, I wish it were less of a problem, but as you grow up this gap will be less and less of an obstacle, so let’s just be patient, yeah? I love you, bro. roach bros to the end of the line.

@pikachulein Laura. ok. where do I start and how do I stop my eyes from sweating so much. you know, I'm just gonna say it. in my opinion, soulmates aren’t the people we’re especially meant to be with in a romantic way, and we might even have several of them. I just think they’re people who just bring you so much, and people who are like another version of you, but different. kind of like I described in my Felix au, actually. when I call you my soulmate, I really mean it, because I'd never thought I'd meet someone who understands me so well because they relate so much, someone who basically shares the same mind because hell, when have we ever had different thoughts on something like... it will never cease to amaze me. it’s only been a few months since we’ve known each other, but I actually think you’re one of my closest friends. hell, on the day we meet, because I'm not taking no for an answer, I don’t even know how I'll be holding up like, I won’t know how to act. so in advance, I'm sorry if I'm so weird at first. you’ve listened to the story of my whole life and you’ve shared your experience back, and you have no idea how thankful I am for that. maybe you haven’t realised, but you’ve been of a huge help to me. thank you for being so understanding, for not judging me, for being so open about everything with me, thank god I have someone with whom I can talk about literally any subject without it feeling uncomfortable or like i’m being judged. I have so many things to say I can’t even find the words, honestly. I’m just so thankful that you exist and that I have you in my life, and that you actually like me as a person too. thanks so much. you’re my best bitch, together we’re the baddest bitches of the pan squad and I can’t wait to travel across Europe with you for real. the world ain’t ready for us.

@hanniesunshine Isabel. you’re just the biggest ray of sunshine ever. everything about you is so pure I'm even scared to be one of the people you talk to because I feel like you don’t deserve to talk to me (I mean like you deserve much better than me) and that I'm way too filthy for you. you’re always so good and kind to me, so, so supportive, and I can’t even thank you enough for that. honestly, every time I see you somewhere, kakaotalk, WhatsApp, Tumblr, I just can’t help but smile because you’re the purest and brightest being the earth has ever seen and I can’t believe you would actually want to talk to someone like me. I'm so sorry for everything. I'm so sorry for being such a cold bitch (and for using this word) sometimes, and for almost never finding the right words. thanks for always being so eager about reading my content. I'll keep supporting you, and I'll do better in everything!! I love you, so, so much. I'll always be there for you if you need me or want me.

@sleepyracha Marie. I'm so, so sorry I'm so inconsistent and that I don’t talk to you as much as I used to, I hope we’re still okay. I just want to thank you for being the open minded person you’ve shown me you are and for supporting me all the time, and for very interesting conversations about literally anything. I promise I'm learning Spanish and that soon we’ll be able to talk together in another language than English. I hope you’re doing well and that you know I'm always there for you, and if Tumblr isn’t the best place for you, tell me where you want me to be for you. congrats on passing this year, you’re someone amazing and you’re so chill, it feels so good to see someone like that. thank you for even talking to me in the first place, thank you so much and I love you.

@lesbianbias Nina. you’re such a soft and pure person, I'm so glad you were my skz anon and that I got to meet a wonderful person like you. you’re always showering me with love, and I always feel like I don’t deserve it. thanks so much for all the support, please, please never change. I love you and you’re amazing. thank you for being so chill as well. I'll make sure I'll return that love to you.

@xiaocity siya. thank you so much for listening to me, you know what I'm referring to. I know you’re one of those who really deeply understands me and I'm thankful we got to talk, even just a bit. I'm always there if you need me, thank you for supporting me and my works, and be more confident in your writing, it’s good!! I think we actually have a lot in common too, so if you ever feel like talking, feel free to drop by in my dms.

@littlefallenrebel Sophie. we haven’t talked that much, but I feel like we should talk more. we have a lot more in common than we think, I'm sure of it. thank you for being you, thank you for the messages you’ve been spreading with your posts and reblogs. you’re an amazing person and I'm happy you’re my mutual because you’re a truly good person.

@visualgiggles sam. thank you for your reblogs, whatever they’re about they never fail to cheer me up, whether they’re about tolerance or just memes, even the latter help me regain faith in humanity. we haven’t talked that much but I would gladly talk some more with you if you ever wanted to. you’re a wonderful person and I'm thankful you’re my mutual.

@dreamypansexual I don’t think we’ve ever talked, I'm not even sure I know your name so I don’t want to say something wrong. but that doesn’t matter, because you’re still one of the people who make me feel the most validated here. hell, you literally have a pan flag as your layout (your user... I mean yeah). your posts are always making me feel so much better because it proves me that there are still such tolerant and open people out there, so thank you.

@cloudyyboii honestly, I think it’s kind of the same as with your friend right above between me and you. it doesn’t matter though, thanks for the validation and the tolerance you’re spreading around. love you.

@jxsng Kylie. I don’t think we’ve ever had a private conversation, but whatever. you’ve shown me lots of supports in every other way and you’re such a sweet and open person, I'm thankful you’re my mutual. I feel small next to people like you because I feel like you hold the whole world in your hands, you’re one of those meant to go places and it shows. I'll always support you too. thank you for everything and I love you.

@ggukksrose shims. you’re definitely one of the people who make me feel validated the most, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I always see you sticking up for others and telling the haters to go fuck off, and you even did that with me. you’re an amazing person, and I admire you for the confidence you’ve managed to achieve and I wish you the best in the future, I hope you’ll only get better and better with your fights and if anyone ever messes with you I'll be throwing hands. just say the word. I love you.

@cypher-yngi Emerson, am I wrong? we’ve never talked though we’ve been mutuals for so long. from what I've seen, we have a lot in common and I'd be more than ok to have even a simple conversation with you, even if you said Orangina was good. you’re also one of those who have helped me feel valid and realise I'm not alone in this world, so if you’re ever feeling alone, and if you want to, let’s be alone together, maybe? gotta love FOB. also, you have amazing music taste. and you're a fellow yoongi stan, and that itself says a lot about the kind of person you are. thanks for existing and I love you.

@wonwonbebe ah... have you ever told me what your name was? I have terrible memory. doesn’t really matter. I love you, I'm so thankful that you were my anon and can’t believe you actually went through all that just to talk to me. you have no idea how thankful I am. you’re a wonderful person, and I'm so, so happy to see that my mutuals are all so amazing and tolerant. thanks for all the positivity.

@psycho-robin-chan robin, right? we’ve talked a bit before. if you read what’s above, you’ll probably find some parts a bit familiar, haha. I actually loved this conversation with you, if that makes sense? it’s always interesting and it feels good to let it out. I also like seeing I'm not alone, and I like to think that when I speak about such things with people I might also be helping them feel better. so thanks, you also make me feel valid with your posts and reblogs, and you’re such a tolerant and open and chill person at such a young age. never change anything! thanks for being here and supporting me.

@mirohell sage! we haven’t been mutuals for long, and I'm not expecting you to read everything I've written, it’s ok if you don’t, really. I just wanted to thank you real quick because you’re already showing me lots of support and I feel like we’ll be getting along well. if you want to read this, I'm sorry for putting so much on your shoulders so quick lmao, you’ll basically be knowing so much about me without having asked for anything. feel free not to read it, I'm repeating myself again but really, the actual important part of this post is this one where I thank you all individually. so thank you!! I'll do my best in supporting you in the future as well, and not only by showing your edits some love haha

@theminho min! we haven’t been mutuals for long either, but thank you for caring about me. thanks for even just following me. thanks for this message you’ve sent, it means a lot really. you don’t have to read all that I've written above either,, don’t feel pressured, I just wanted to thank you personally too for just being here and for the support. feel free to come talk to me whenever you want (if you ever want) and I'll be supporting you always!!

@justlovingkpop my sweetheart, you’re just too cute and so supportive and loving. thank you so, so much for everything and for coming to talk to me!! I'll go reread some of your work soon to because I've missed it. thanks for existing, and know that I'm always there for you. love you lots.

@strawb-milk-tea my babyyyy I'm going to repeat it but thank you and I love you and you’re so cute and you’re NOT a potato ok, you’re so, so pretty like I knew I was gay but phew... I feel valid too when I see you. long live the gays.

@five-pence hey there! it’s been a while. hope you’re doing well. thank you for supporting me, thank you for making me feel valid as well, and I love you very much. I'm here whenever.

@jooheonenthusiast yo. we’ve basically only talked bc of that one post I made, and it’s been enough to show me that you’re an amazing person and a bad bitch. thanks for your support and fuck the homophobes. I love you.

@marriael adellum. you’re a really kind person. you’re so pure. and you make me me feel very much valid, love your profile pics from the last days by the way. thanks for existing and I'm glad you’ve joined us on the network, it’s a pleasure to have someone like you around. hope I'm not too much of a pain in the ass.

@channiiebby gryphon. we’ve never talked privately, but you’re a sweetheart. thanks for being you. you’re valid and you know it, and that makes me feel valid too, so thanks for showing me it’s okay to be who you are. I love you.

that’s it. I'm out of words. I've been at this for like 2 hours now. if I think of anyone else, I'll just reblog and add them. but right now I feel totally empty because of all the emotion hive poured into all this and I need to recharge, so good night and I love you all. thank you for your time and attention.

happy pride month everyone,

your friendly neighbourhood pansexual, zia.

#on this note #good night everyone #I love y'all #rants #personal #<33 #sorry for bothering you all with this

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