#if I come to talk with someone they would never say that they think about dying on a daily basis

[drchucktingle]

BIG thing i get teased about over the years (in playful ways, it is fine buckaroos, but a light tease none the less) is the DIRECTNESS of my titles. many who stumble upon my books will immediately comment 'the title is so long it just says what happens'. here are some of my thoughts on that...

as with a lot of things in the tingleverse, my unusual artistic choices end up being a sort of TROJAN HORSE, called unserious and mocked by many, but hopefully over the years revealing something to buckaroos who are not tied to the separation of ‘low brow’ or ‘high brow’ art

i feel understood by most, but for some who JUST NOW encounter the tingleverse there is an automatic apprehension, from outright to subliminal. things like scoffing ’im not going to try and find meaning in a chuck tingle book’ (real quote) or 'skeptical of the horror, ive seen his OTHER books'

i have written a LOT about how much of this, whether buds know it or not, is not just about the dinosaurs and the living objects. it is about a culture that is built to see queerness and neurodivergence and (drumroll) SEXUALITY as fundamentally unworthy of ‘real’ artistic merit. this trot runs deep

theres SOMETHING ELSE i dont talk on much however, which is directness of my writing style, both in titles and on page. why i do it is this: AS AN ARTIST it is never my intention to impress you. my books are not the 'ME show' theyre the 'US show’ so i simply want my sentences to express what happens

i wont dance circles around you, leading you through the story saying LOOK AT ME LOOK HOW GOOD I AM IM SO COOL. i want to walk BESIDE you. of course, writing to impress is also great and valid art too, just not MY preference. this is ARTISTIC choice, but i want to talk for a moment on politics of it

i tend to see buckaroos holding a sort of STRICT interpretation of what makes ‘good’ art. it is a training that has been pounded into their heads declaring ‘real art cannot just come out and say what it means.' a good example would be if someone was being critical by just saying 'its heavy handed'

the thing is, there is a huge difference between saying ‘it was blunt.’ and ‘it was TOO BLUNT for what it was trying to accomplish.’ TIME AND TIME AGAIN however, you will see folks simply deciding ‘this art just said what it meant on the surface’ and leaving it there, as if that is INHERENTLY WRONG.

and the question i am forced to ask myself is ‘WHY is this wrong?’ in the vast, infinite pantheon of WHAT ART CAN BE why are we so obsessed with hiding ourselves? obscuring our thoughts? removing our politics? there is certainly a time for subtly, but it seems there is NEVER a time for being blunt

some say this is because arts more DIFFICULT to craft when it is subliminal, but folks do not REACT that way. art that is both direct AND subliminal and layered will STILL get torn down for leaving things on the surface, even when technically speaking it is probably most impressive to juggle both

there is plenty for you to research on this regarding the CIA secretly funding abstract expressionist art during the cold war. it is still HOTLY DEBATED, but i will mention it here for anyone reading my thread who is interested in a deep dive. HERE, however, i will talk about it on a personal level

i think that culturally we are CONSTANTLY told to not take up space, especially in marginalized groups. there is decades and decades of programming telling us ‘you can express yourself, but in a CIVILIZED WAY, not too loud, not too direct. CERTAINLY not too political.' i flatly reject this

of all the places to do what you want and say what you want to say, ART IS THE PERFECT ARENA. your writing, your songs, your music can absolutely be as subtle as you want, but especially during times like this, dont let anyone tell you that youre too dang loud. lets trot buckaroos.

and since i spent all morning writing this is am going to leave a link for my new book LUCK DAY, which is LOUD AS HECK. now is a time to make art, and it is also a time to support the artists you love. give a preorder if you can. LOVE IS REAL

[reignpage]

piggybacking on the banana question, if they all got to run the train what order would they go in?? 🙏🙏🙏

(i just wanna know where you’d put nanami tbh)

I LOVE THIS QUESTION

Choso: cause he'd be the virgin of the group. they'd think of it as initiation and would want him to experience the very best on his first time. I imagine nanami would likely have to guide his dick in because he keeps missing the whole, would mutter encouragements and instructions. everyone would even shout out tips like 'hey cho, slap her pussy she likes that' or 'choso ma boi, grind your hips, oh yeah just like that, hear her moans? she fucking loves that shit'. he'd be passed out on the side from the overwhelmingness of it all, probably drooling babbling about how great pussies are

Nanami: would go next, his case being that he's got things to do so let's just get it over with. truthfully he couldn't wait any longer. he talks you through it, describes all the things he's feeling, how you're so tight, the pleats and folds of your pussy, how beautiful you look. he fucks you like there's no one else in the room. they'd all start complaining about long he's taking and he'd roll his eyes but would make sure you cum first before he does. and then he never actually leaves, he just stays, brushing tears from your eyes and cooing for you to let him know if it gets too much

Sukuna: the fact that he's sharing at all is already making him on edge, so to be going third would piss him off. RIP your pussy bro. he's really getting all up in there, bruising you so badly you're gripping Nanami's arm whilst he smiles down at you for being so good. sukuna would slap your face (not too hard, just to get your attention) he'd tch! and start degrading the shit out of you. look at you making obscene noises from both lips like a whore. you love the attention don't you? bet you want all of your holes filled up, you dirty girl. would probably demand someone plugs up your loud mouth. and after he cums inside, he'd force you to clean him up whilst the next one steps up

Geto: if I had it my way he wouldn't even be in the room but whatever, dick is dick so who can complain. he's very sweet seeming, he wets his dick with your cum, doing a pussyjob, really getting you worked up so you beg for him and then he fucks into you slow. too slow. you start crying, complaining, screaming for him to fuck you hard. he laughs until everyone else gets mad at him for being too mean, like come on man, there are limits. so then he picks up the pace and he even pats your pussy and thanks it for doing a good job.

Gojo: insisted he goes after geto. says he wants his bestie to go first but really he just wanted to fuck you with his dick drowning in geto's cum. that really gets him going. really mean too, would mock the faces and sounds you make until you're pouting through the tears that he's just like geto. and that man cums. he keeps cumming too cause geto comes up behind him and guides his hips and keeps him fucking into you, whispering how poor little you didn't even get to cum yet

Toji: that man is a dirty dirty whore. he doesn't care that other men's cum is dripping out of you. he's filthy. in fact, he'd eat you out before he slips it in. and he's bending you in all sorts of different positions. he even lifts you up so everyone can see your tits bounce, your eyes roll back, and your pussy take his cock again and again. man also walks over to choso and does it right in front of his face, asks him to lick your clit, and of course he does. pounds into you so hard you're dazed and delirious and when he asks who's fucking you best you're just screaming his name and everyone rolls their eyes

It just means they go for round 2 to prove who really is the best

[trivia-yandere]

off limits (2)

things get even more complicated the next morning when your brother makes his appearance

word count: 3.896

warning: smut, oral sex (m/f), cowgirl, nipple sucking, creampie, unprotected sex, dirty talking, praising,

part one

Jungkook wouldn’t say he doesn’t have sex. He’s single and has the occasional one night stands and casual hookups.

However, this was different. You were different. He’s insatiable when it comes to you and the entire night goes by and he finds that he cannot keep his hands off of you - and vice versa, of course. After the shower, you and him did watch a movie, though it ended with you right on top of him. He thought if you and him didn’t go to the bedroom that there wouldn’t be any temptations, but of course the couch served no better.

Jungkook soon grasps that this was only a one time thing - that after tonight, you and he would have to go back to what you both know. You would be someone he cared about deeply, but still his best friend's sister and completely off limits.

With that in mind, Jungkook allows himself to be consumed by you. His eyes adore the way your breast bounces in his face when you ride him, his mouth immediately wrapping around your perky nipples and he never wanted to stop. 

The fucking soon went towards the kitchen when you and Jungkook took a break to get some snacks, yet for some reason it ended up with you on the kitchen island. His tongue licks through your fold hungrily, nails digging into the skin of your thigh to keep you right in place - though you weren’t running from him. His head bobs back and forth in rhythmic motion while his free hand grips your breast. Your moans bounces off of the walls of his kitchen, only further encouraging him to suckle against your clit.

Your hands grip at Jungkook’s hair, hips buckling against his tongue and he allows it, wanting you to feel the utmost pleasure he could give.

You cumming against his tongue, thighs quivering and toes curling, doesn’t end there. No, somehow you still fall to your knees and take his cock in your mouth. Those eyes stare up at him as you suck him in, tongue swirling around his tip like a lollipop. It was so sinful coming from you - even after he fucked you so many times in such a short amount of hours. Those same innocent eyes that would stare at him when he visited your brother now held a deeper meaning. “Did you know I liked you?” rings through his head as your hand wraps around his shaft and you begin to pump while you suck.

Doing this is still surreal to you, you think. For as long as you’ve wanted Jungkook, being here in his home was like a dream you’ve never known you wanted until it happened.

“You’re…really good at this.” Jungkook’s cheeks are warm and red when his voice cracks a bit - that, and you’re still looking up at him with those eyes. 

Placing a hand onto your face, Jungkook’s thumb runs along your cheek, your mouth taking him deeper and deeper. He’s moaning softly, watching the way his cock disappears and reappears inside your warm, wet mouth. You’re very beautiful, he thinks, and nothing you do would change his perspective of you. Sure, it would be harder to look his friend in the face after fucking his sister in so many ways, but he tells himself that this was a one time thing. That he and you would get this out of your systems and go back to normal; whatever normal was.

Jungkook doesn’t want to cum in your mouth and further degrade you, but you refuse to let him leave. You’re suckling with little air, eyes tearing but still, you want him to.

Jungkook and you sit quietly at his breakfast table, both naked and sweaty. The shower you and he took hours ago seemed to be a complete waste of time. You and he are eating - nothing special, just something he’s managed to whip up to replenish the the energy you and he fucked out of one another.

Jungkook glances up at you as you eat, silently slurping the noodles into your mouth. His mind wanders to how in the world he was going to stop thinking about you in this light. This couldn’t happen again, no matter if you and he wanted it.

Jungkook already feels the disappointment sink in. The sun is coming up as it’s early morning and eventually you’d have to leave. He’d drive you home, of course, as he wasn’t going to let you do the walk of shame. Still, a part of him feels as though maybe he’s took advantage of your vulnerable position.

Jungkook tries to piece together the puzzle pieces. “Did you know that I liked you?” keeps ringing into his head and his memories are attempting to piece together any clues that he missed out on besides the ones he caught onto earlier.

“There you go again.”

Your voice startles Jungkook out of his thoughts.

“You’re thinking far too much into things again.” you murmur, eyes glancing up at him.

“I feel like an asshole.” Jungkook responds. 

You exhale softly. Of course the regret was going to settle in. It was hard to not look at you and not see his best friend. “Jay-”

“It’s not just about Jay.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I…how drunk were you?”

You furrow your brows. “Not that drunk.” you giggle, a bit uncertain. “I didn’t come onto you because I was drunk, Jungkook. Maybe it gave me a little courage but-”

“I took advantage of you, didn’t I?” Jungkook was jumping into a deeper hole the longer his mind kept thinking about everything.

“What?” you hiss. “Jungkook, can you be real with yourself?” You shift in the chair. 

“I did, Y/N.” Jungkook’s eyes are hard and full of disdain. “I…I hadn’t realized that maybe your feelings for me drove you to do what we did.”

Your own body is warm as Jungkook speaks.

“I should’ve stopped it after you told me last night. It shouldn’t have gone further.”

“Is this your way of rejecting me easily?”

Your tone doesn’t have any emotion in it, but your face does sadden a bit. Jungkook immediately feels a jolt in his heart but he’s unsure how to respond.

“I’m not a little girl who’s oblivious to things, Kook.” you press further. “Can I ask you a question?”

Jungkook nods. “Of course.”

“Is Jay the only reason?”

Jungkook blinks.

“Is he the only reason why you and I…can’t be anything more?” you tilt your head, those eyes staring at him so intently that he was becoming small himself. “Or is that you don’t see me as nothing more?”

Jungkook is taken aback, but he’s never thought about it until now. You were always off limits that anything concerning you that wasn’t platonic never lingered in his mind longer than a few minutes. 

“I care for you.” Jungkook murmurs.

You roll your eyes. “Like a sister?” you ask, scoffing bitterly. 

“No!” Jungkook interjects. “I told you I haven’t seen you like that in years, Y/N. It’s complicated.” he feels like ripping his hair out, but he only has himself to blame for putting you in this position. He should’ve fought harder with his own emotions and attractions. “I…want you to not settle for someone like me. You deserve someone that loves you. Not someone who goes behind his friends back with his sister.”

“Can you stop mentioning him? Fuck Jay.” you hiss. For years, it’s always been Jay. Jay said this, Jay did that, Jay doesn’t want you doing this. You were tired of hearing about your brother and his constant interjection of your life. “I want you to give me a reason why you and I can’t be together. Without you mentioning him.”

Jungkook swallows. The kitchen is quiet. You and him were in a staring battle, though his soft eyes don’t mimic your hard ones.

“There isn't one, right?” you ask, tilting your head.

There wasn’t, and that lingers on Jungkook’s mind for far too long. He enjoys the company you give. You were a kind and smart person, and you had the same amount of fire in you that he finds intriguing. You know him just as much as he knows you, years of friendship that lead to this very moment.

Jungkook doesn’t realize you have gotten up until you’re directly in front of him.

“You want me more than you think, Kookie.” you murmur, seating yourself onto the table, pushing his plate of food aside. “Why do you keep fighting it?”

Your foot places itself against his thigh, your eyebrow arching. 

Jungkook gulps, chest filling with air. You were doing it again - playing with him until he gave you what you wanted. He bites his lips when your foot inches closer to him, and he’s ashamed to find that his cock is already hardening like a horny teenager who’s experiencing sex for the first time.

“You’re not going to stop, are you?” Jungkook sighs, yet he makes no action in pushing himself away from you. 

“Why don’t you stop me?” your lips are forming a small, seductive smile that’s full of mischief. “Prove that you don’t want me, Kookie.”

“I do want you.” Jungkook answers. 

“Then what’s stopping you from having me?” you shrug your shoulders. “Jay can’t hate the both of us forever.”

Your legs are opening for him just in time for Jungkook to catch sight of your pussy. You’d think that after hours of fucking, that he wouldn’t be interested in continuing. However, he was a simple creature and he was absolutely interested.

“How do you know I’m the right man for you?” Jungkook places his hands onto your thighs. They’re soft, causing his palms to tingle and his arms to erupt with goosebumps.

“How do you know you’re not?” you retort. 

Touche, Jungkook thinks. He squeezes your thighs, hands inching closer and closer to your pussy.

“I…I should’ve asked for a date first.” Jungkook leans closer to you, as do you. “Instead of fucking you all night.”

You can’t help the giggle that comes from your lips. Jungkook kisses up your chest, to your neck and then your jaw.  

“You still have time.” you murmur, leaning your head to the side so that Jungkook has more access to your neck. “But for now…you can just fuck me again.”

Jungkook chuckles, but he complies. 

Jungkook pushes himself up from his seat, chair scraping against the floor. His cock is already hard and throbbing just as your pussy is wet and clenching. 

Jungkook grasps his cock and centers himself at your hole, his lips immediately connecting with yours as he pushes himself inside. Your hands lay at the low of his back as he begins to enter you slowly, your lips dancing with his.

Jungkook doesn’t get tired of feeling your walls around him and he’s positive he probably never would. Years of attraction building up had led to the insatiable feeling the two of you were going through and it wasn’t going to stop until you were out of his sight.

Jungkook disconnects from your lips to inhale, his speed increasing. The table beneath you squeaks and scrapes against the floor, but neither of you care about the added noise. 

“Your pussy feels better after each time.” Jungkook grunts, eyes glancing down to where his cock is pounding into you. You’re already creaming around him, a sight that he could never get tired of.

Your nails dig into his skin, encouraging him to fuck you harder. Deeper; however. Your own breathing increases and your eyes snap shut, grunts and moans coming from your throat.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” Jungkook continues to speak. “I wish you could milk my cock all the time.”

“Who s-says I can’t?” you stutter a response. “You could fuck me every night…you’re just scared to.”

Your walls squeeze around Jungkook’s cock as he begins to pound deeper inside of you. Maybe your teasing was encouraging him.

“You could’ve been fucking me this whole time if you weren’t acting like a scared little boy.”

Jungkook removes himself from you and proceeds to roughly turn your body around. He enters you again and immediately continues his brutal pace. The new position allows a deeper entrance that you feel in your stomach.

“I’m not scared.” Jungkook says against your neck, his tongue licking your skin. “Maybe I had respect for you.”

Jungkook’s right hand moves between your legs, touching your wet clit. His fingers work harshly against it, circling the throbbing bud as he fucks you. 

“But you’re such a slut that you want me to treat you like one.” Jungkook’s teeth sink into your neck possessively, his fingers working your clit. Skin slapping echoes throughout the room, evidence of just how good he was fucking you.

“I could be a slut with someone else who isn’t scared of my brother.” you taunt further. You find this Jungkook to be hot.

The hand that once holds your waist comes up to clench your neck. He presses you against his chest, hips rutting inside of you. His wet hand slaps your clit and you yelp at the sudden impact, pussy squeezing his ramming cock.

“I thought you said I still had time, baby?” Jungkook’s voice dropped a few tones and it was driving you crazy. “I can’t just tell him I fucked you all night, right? How you were begging for more and more like the little whore you are.”

Your thighs are shaking, and Jungkook knows you are being overstimulated. He doesn’t stop his aggressive pace, or his assault on your clit.

“Is that what you want? You want me to tell him how I came in you each and every time?” Jungkook’s teeth sink into your neck again, no longer caring if he’s left marks behind or not. The thought of you going to someone else and being this way was something he now knew he didn’t want.

“Fuck, Kook,” your hand grasps his wrist to try to stop him - or slow him down - but Jungkook doesn’t let up.

“No, I’ll have to spare the details, right?” Jungkook’s cock springs in and out of you so good that your eyes are rolling. “And I’ll have to pretend I asked you out wholesomely. It’ll be our little secret, right?”

Wrong. 

Just as you’re cumming all over him, juices covering your thighs, Jungkook isn’t far behind. His cum mixes with your own and it shoots so deep into you that you’re both squirming with pleasure.

A knock sounds on the door and both you and Jungkook are alert. He’s still inside of you when it sounds again, this time louder. 

“Who could that be?” you whisper.

“Kook?”

You stiffen, and Jungkook pales.  His heart pounds outside his chest and you can feel it right against your back.

“Go in the room, Y/N.” Jungkook untangles himself from you. “Now.”

You’re left wide eyed and slightly trembling. 

Jungkook pushes you lightly. “He has a key, Y/N. He only knocks before he uses it.” he hisses in a low tone.

Jungkook slams the door to his bedroom shut before locking it. His heart is pounding far too loud for him to process anything.

“Stay here.” Jungkook says, pulling up his sweats and tying it around his waist. Down the hall, he can hear Jay using the spare key he’s given him. “And don’t make a sound or move.”

You’re terrified yourself and nod your head. You tuck yourself beneath Jungkook’s covers, something you’d do when you were a child and afraid of what the darkness brought. This time, the darkness being Jay.

Jungkook opens his bedroom door just as the front door opens. He closes his door and makes his way down the hall. “Jay?” Jungkook calls, his footsteps growing closer to the front door.

“Kook.” Jay says, eyes glancing at his friend. 

“Everything okay?” Jungkook tries not to look as terrified as he was. Jay didn’t scare him per se. However, his reaction to finding out what has happened with you here wasn’t going to be less than ugly.

“Yeah.” Jay nods. “Um, have you seen Y/N?”

Jungkook’s hand squeezes and he furrows his brows. “Seen Y/N?” He shakes his head softly. “Why-”

“She didn’t come home last night.” Jay continues. “And…I knew that but.” Jay lets out a low sigh. “I…I tried calling her and she didn’t answer. And…I went to one of her friends' houses.”

Jungkook attempts to hide his feelings. He drove you and your friends last night. They obvious know who he was and-

“And they said you drove them home.” Jay says. “And that Y/N stayed with them.”

Jungkook releases a breath. Your friends had covered for you - in a way.

“Yeah. I did.” Jungkook nods. “Um…I should’ve told you, man-”

“I know she went to a club.” Jay scoffs. “She forgets I follow a few of her friends.” Jay doesn’t say that it’s for the sole reason to keep up with you. “She wasn’t there when I got to her friends. She isn’t home and…” Jay glances at Jungkook’s hands. “...did she say anything to you before you dropped her off?”

Jungkook shakes his head. He felt horrible for putting Jay in this position. He doesn’t deserve to be lied to. He was a caring older brother who wanted what was best for you. Jungkook was a man of his word. He had every intention of doing the right thing - of asking Jay if it was alright for you and him to date. It would be easier than him finding out that he went behind his back and fucked you the entire night.

“Damn.” Jay sighs, glancing back up from Jungkook’s hands to his face. “You still do that,” he states.

“What do you mean?”

Jay shrugs his shoulders, taking a few steps closer. Jay is a few feet away. 

“Y/N…she doesn’t realize that everything I do is to protect her.” Jay doesn’t bother answering Jungkook’s question. “She just thinks I’m the asshole older brother who keeps her from doing anything.”

“She’ll come around.” Jungkook quips. “Just…you should just talk to her.”

“I should.” Jay scoffs with a nod of his head. “When we were kids, Kook…” Jay begins, glancing around the apartment. “...you always did this thing, you know? When you were lying, you’d squeeze your hands together.”

The room is quiet and neither of the two speak. There’s realization in Jay’s eyes, one that causes Jungkook’s heart to jolt again.

“You haven’t stopped squeezing your hands since I got here.” Jay continues. “And…I wouldn’t know why if I didn’t know that my sister was here with you.” Jay takes another step closer, as Jungkook remains frozen. “And she’s been here with you the entire night. Her phone location told me.”

You’re dressed and contemplate running down the hall when you hear a loud crash. Your nerves are pounding through you as you listen to everything Jay was saying.

How in the world did he get your location? You never gave it to him.

Anger now seeps through you and you open the door to his bedroom just as you hear a loud crash from just down the hall.

“How long have you been fucking my sister, Kook?” Jay’s voice booms off the walls. You make your way towards them, eyes widening as Jungkook is on the ground, holding a bloodied nose.

“Are you fucking insane?!” you screech, making your presence known.

“Am I insane?” Jay scoffs. “Get in the car.”

“Fuck you.” you hiss, feet making their way towards Jungkook.

“You had enough of that, haven’t you?” Jay barks back. “You’ve lied and said you didn’t know where my sister was but somehow she magically appears.” he scoffs.

“Jay,” Jungkook begins. He wasn’t going to fight his friend and he’d gladly take the bloody nose.

“I’m not fucking Jungkook!” you screech, a lie, of course. But Jay looks ready to land another fist on Jungkook and you weren’t going to sit by and watch that. “I got drunk last night and called Jungkook because I knew you would act insane!”

Jay glances at you, then down to Jungkook.

“I begged Jungkook to let me stay here tonight so I can sober up.” you continue. 

“Why couldn’t you stay with your friends?” Jay asks, skeptical.

“And deal with their boyfriend drama?” you scoff. “I slept in the bed, Jungkook slept on the couch.”

You were a better liar that even Jungkook was beginning to believe. Was lying a good idea, however? It would make Jay even more suspicious of the two of you if you and he suddenly ended up being a couple.

“I knew calling you meant that I had to deal with your judgment.” your voice drops. “And I put Jungkook in the middle of it…”

You want to hold Jungkook, but you can’t. If Jay was going to calm down it meant that he had to believe this lie.

“Why the fuck do you have my location? How do you even have it?” you hiss, glaring. “You’re such a fucking nuisance-”

“It’s for your own protection!” Jay hisses back. “You lied about everything last night what the fuck am I suppose to think?”

“I’m not a little kid, Jay. I should call the police.” you cross your arms. “That has to be illegal.”

“Fuck you, Y/N, seriously.” Jay waves you off. “You…you know why I jumped to conclusions regarding you and him.”

Jungkook doesn’t bother speaking. It was better if he just sat here and allowed you two to bicker back and forth.

“Kook.”

Your eyes glance down towards the bloodied-nose man and your heart jumps. Damn Jay for being such a creep. You were going to get a whole new phone entirely.

“I’m-”

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook shakes his head instead. You swallow, widening your eyes. “I…should’ve called you and told you that Y/N was here.”

“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.” Jay murmurs. He lets out a sigh, feet making their way towards Jungkook and gives him a hand up from the ground. “It’s-”

“I get it, man.” Jungkook chuckles. “No harm done.”

From behind Jay, Jungkook’s eyes lock with yours.

“We should get going, right?” you say to Jay, your eyes never leaving Jungkook’s. “You made enough of a mess.”

Jay groans. You were absolutely right. 

“I’m going to go get my things. Go wait in the car.” you grumble, walking past him. “You’re buying me breakfast because of your insane fuck up.”

With a few more apologies, Jay does walk out and into his car while Jungkook grabs a towel from the kitchen to wipe his nose.

“Kook,” you say a few moments later. You couldn’t dwell for long or Jay would grow suspicious again. “I’m so sorry-”

“Please stop apologizing.” Jungkook says, tone a bit muffled with the towel.

Your brows knit and you moan lowly. Your feet make their way towards him and you grab his hand. 

“Does this…change anything?” you ask, a look in your eyes that shows just how you were feeling.

Jungkook sniffles, lowering the blooded towel. His lips twitch upwards and he leans closer to you. “Not at all.” he murmurs, placing a kiss onto your lips. 

It just meant that courting you was going to be a lot harder than he expected.

@sweetempathprunetree @investedreader @darkuni63 @chimmy-licious @momnomnom @dreamersparacosm @deeznutkooks @purple-realms @jenniebyrubies @ahgasegotarmy116 @marylight098 @matryoshka-poetry @laross860 @jimineepaboya @joonislife

[revcleo]

Something which I also think would be useful for people to understand is that they have to strategise their speech.

Right wing people know this, because they speak differently among themselves than they do on social media and such because they want to appear reasonable in their use of dog whistles and such, that make people who know what they're talking about either seem crazy or unable to remove their schostastic terrorism or such.

But what I think a lot of left wing people think is that being correct and on the good side of history etc means that people will always agree with them, or be evil. Never mind that there's the stereotype of leftist infighting, a lot of people seem to be either ashamed of their past and less informed behaviour, or copy the behaviour of their favourite posters (who are usually irony poisoned and sarcastic at the least, and angry warriors of truth otherwise).

The things you've got to do when you come across someone who you disagree with is first think: What do I want out of this encounter?

Do you want to change how anyone thinks?

This can be no, if you just want to let off steam or shout at people, instead think "Is this the right person to shout at?" Will you make yourself look like an idiot?

Shouting at someone can be fine, like shouting is used to either get people in line or get people to fuck off.

Shouting works when it's either someone you largely agree with who is doing something fucked up and you go "what the fuck?" and talk to them, but mass shouting when it's someone you largely agree with does not work in that way. I've never seen a lot of people shouting at someone who they agree with 99% on things, ending up productive. It just creates divides and ends up as a form of harassment.

If you want to shout at someone for catharsis, the best way to do this is to do a sort of preaching to the choir about something fucked up you've seen, or shouting at an in person protest.

Since this is also an option for if you don't want to change someone's mind, if you find someone so entrenched and fucked up in their beliefs that they are unlikely to change, so long as you aren't going to repost their beliefs to shout at them, then shouting at them can be a way to let off steam. It won't do anything else, and may make you more angry, but it's an option.

But what if you want to change someone's mind?

First like, who are you talking to? Let's put them in a few groups:

Fellow leftist, problematic liberal, typical conservative, outright fascist

Starting from the fascist: You will not be able to change their mind and make them realise the folly of their ways.

They can change their own minds, but arguing with them will not do that. It's a special job to deradicalise fascists. The best things you can do are either:

A. bait them into saying something which they can be reported for/look into their blogs to see if they have anything reportable

B. block them, spreading their hate speech just to debunk it is still spreading their hate speech, you can debunk things without sharing the original

C. humiliate them. What you do is you need to make them look stupid by baiting them into showing their ass while you just show calm facts and logic. They often rely on appearing to be the sensible and calm one to appeal to people who are less fascist than they are, because they are irritating and cherry-pick facts it can be easy to get angry, so if you get too pissed off to do this then just block them.

Now on the typical conservative, sometimes they can be the fascist sort, where they're too deep in whatever hole, and you can just treat them as above, but if you learn to tell the difference between people who are just out to waste your time and people who are actually curious and have just picked up fucked up information (such as the example above) then if you just take your time and target your speech to align with some of their preconcieved ideas, you may be able to get them to doubt themselves on something.

You will not be able to make them suddenly a leftist, you also will probably not be able to make them even centrist, but pushing seeds of doubt is fine. Just don't spend too long, and make sure you're definitely able to tell if someone has curiousity or not. People who lack curiosity are often time wasters and will not care at all about what you're saying.

It can also be useful to get a bunch of responses to their thought terminating clichés and channel your inner MCU or something, such as "I thought the left was supposed to be tolerant" "you're confusing tolerant with a doormat/no that's the liberals/of what? assholes?"

With problematic liberals, they may be generally nice people who just say something a bit fucked up, or might just not know about something. Like let's say there's a link you post with saying "White people should read this." and they respond defensively with "Why do I need to read that?" the wrong response would be "Are you some sort of racist or something?" which is starting a fight. Whether they're a racist or not, they are less likely to engage with the information. Instead it's possible to just answer the question, which might be something like "It might be some interesting information you've never thought of before, which can help you treat other people better."

Some people can just be very annoying, feel free to block whoever whenever, and sometimes the way people brains work are different, so you can't figure out what each other means, feel free to say "Sorry, this is just frustrating and I don't think we're going to resolve anything." but someone not being as left as you doesn't mean they are inherently going to go rightwards. You can help them on a journey by giving them suggestions and telling them facts that they might not know.

Saying things like "just fucking google it" really doesn't work nowadays especially, since google is so full of shit. So having a bunch of useful bookmarks might be an idea if you want to try and convince people who are almost leftists to give it a go, rather than telling them to fuck off.

Liberals are much more appreciative of a bit of truth and facts and maybe a podcast recommendation than many leftists think. There's even many liberals who you might talk to when you are out and about IRL, you can convince them of things like sensible nuclear policy and how more bike lanes are good for everyone.

With fellow leftists, there are many different but similar sorts of arguments. Maybe someone is having a bad day and is fighty, maybe someone is just an asshole who loves to pick fights, maybe you have the same thing but from different angles and just need to work out where it is, maybe someone is just frustrated with the way how they feel powerless and has found one thing they can shout about which is unfortunately wrong but makes them feel good about themselves.

You gotta see where people are coming from on things, sometimes you just gotta block people, not that they're even bad, but just like you know fundamentally you're going to find some of the ways they think to be really irritating, or some of their comparatively harmless jokes just piss you off and it's not worth fighting about.

With leftists, sometimes taking the argument on head on is not the best way to go about things, the best thing to do is try and find where the argument comes from. Check in with your comrades, see how they're doing. Try and keep things in plain language if jargon seems to obfuscate your meanings, and try and rephrase things and see if the other person is willing to also rephrase things. Try and reach a stage where you both understand the other person's argument. Maybe you can reconcile?

Also maybe the other person just doesn't know about some information you have as well? Try keeping things cheerful. If someone really is a dickhead then you can just block them.

And one thing I've gotta say with all of this:

If you don't feel up to it, then don't do it, but don't make it worse. If you don't want to talk to someone, then don't. Also don't take this as tone policing, if someone demands politeness when they've not given it, they can fuck off.

Might I give some advice:

Not everyone has (or needs to have) the energy to thoughtfully respond to republicans on the Internet. You do not have to do that.

But some people do, and can. And I think we gotta let them.

An example:

I have a former teacher, I'll call her Grace, who is an incredibly kind woman in her 70s. Devout catholic, had voted for various parties over the years, but has been pretty strictly democrat over the past 15-20 because that aligns with her values of kindness and service.

She shared a post about the pope's recent letter and expressed that she agreed with his concerns about how trump is treating immigrants. A friend of hers commented a long paragraph basically saying "dear Grace I care for you but I don't understand how you can be a Christian and a democrat. Blah blah abortion blah blah gender blah blah drugs."

Grace replied "I'm very busy right now but I am going to respond to you soon with my thoughts". When she did it was an incredibly generous, rational monologue that connected with this person's humanity, their shared religious values, and made a beautiful case for why she supports who she does. I didn't agree with a good half of what she said as I am not a Christian, but the result was an expression of values that I think put her on the side of justice and compassion.

The person replied and thanked her and said she had a lot to think about. It was probably the best case scenario for a Facebook politics conversation

You know what came very close to ruining it? A bunch of (mostly younger) people piling on with "fuck you you racist maga pos" and "no one has to explain anything to you, go to hell" etc etc. Even after Grace wrote that she intended to reply herself.

I watched this republican respond to all the easy, quick insults by saying "this is why I don't think any democrats can be Christian, this is how you all speak to me." If Grace hadn't put so much work into writing her response in a way that was tailored to fit this person, I would not be surprised if that person left Facebook doubly certain that Christian nationalism is the way to go.

I'm not saying we can't cuss out jackasses. I'm not saying everyone needs to respond to bad faith arguments like Grace did or use their time like she did.

But this was on Grace's Facebook page, and interrupted the work she already volunteered to do. Just so these individuals could feel like they "did something" and got a shot off at an enemy.

I think that's selfish and childish and unproductive. They could have said anything they wanted in their own space, but they made grace's job harder for no fuckin reason. And then "loved" her reply and said "that was beautiful Grace, thank you for sharing your thoughts"

Like... Buddies. Pals. If someone volunteers to scrub the toilet fucking let them.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ where the salesman has to hide his true nature because he was too interested in the foreigner student living across his street.

warnings_ AGE GAP (reader in her early 20s and American), ANGST, FLUFF (soft!salesman), implied sex (very mild and bad), plot twist at the end. No proofreading yet…

notes_magnetic and switch were on replay while writing this <3 SOMEONE ANSWER MY QUESTION AT THE END!!!

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

It wasn’t a day without music.

You weren’t trying to sound cringe when you admitted you couldn’t live a day without music.

While showering, cooking, studying, painting your nails, walking to take the subway, or working in your office, you always have your EarPods or cable ones plugged into your ears.

And while that happened, you rarely looked at your surroundings. You knew you were in safe neighborhoods all the time.

After living for only a month in Namyangju in Seoul, you moved when a bright opportunity arose in a wealthier neighborhood.

The building across the street was sophisticated, futuristic, and bigger in comparison with yours; which could be considered vintage but cozier.

Hence why you didn’t know who lived there. And certainly, you were clueless about the neat man in an elegant suits and sweet smile coming out of said building each morning.

Men never approached you. Since you were a foreign woman, you were an outcast and outsider. And Korean society was not very fond of foreigners. Not that you could generalize, but it was an obvious fact.

And you weren’t looking for a boyfriend either. You had learned to enjoy the solitude after entering your twenties. With no boyfriend and few girlfriends, you would make it.

It was a very late winter, almost spring Saturday when you arrived at your favorite sushi spot near your apartment.

The place had a special roll of ahi tuna with spicy mayo, avocado, and fresh cucumber on top that you really loved.

It was slightly warm and orders were being shouted while you waited for your takeout.

It was then when you first saw him.

“A salmon sashimi order, please…” he said and you eyed him.

Tall, fit, great haircut, elegant suit. Overall, very great looking.

But you quickly turned back to your phone because there was no way a seeming bachelor like him would pay attention to you.

Plus, you weren’t looking for a boyfriend.

Plus two, that type of man would never be into you.

“Do you come here often?” you hear and you almost froze after seeing the handsome man facing you.

You were shocked.

“Sorry?” you ask just to clarify if you had actually heard him speaking English.

“I asked if you come here often…”

“Mostly every Friday or Saturday,” you say and he nods, offering you a polite smile.

“Me too. I had never seen you before”

His pronunciation was almost perfect and he had a sultry tone of voice that made you feel nervous and intrigued.

“Either you come too early or too late” You don’t want to sound like you’re flirting, you don’t think the man in front of you is interested. You decided that after being shocked. “I’m usually spent up with college and all”

“You’re a student?” you nod at him, attempting to smile for the first time.

The man in the suit smiles back and the attraction is undeniable.

“Yes, one more year and a half to graduate” Your hands were shaking but you pretended too well to not look bothered by the handsome man talking to you. “But I’m already an English teacher for kids with my associate's degree”

He didn’t know much about the occidental education, but he believed you were smart enough. At least you seemed like that.

“That’s great,” he says and you hear your order is ready.

You smile at the handsome man one last time and you are ready to leave, fully mentally set that it was only a friendly gesture to talk with a man like him.

“Care to join me for dinner?” You turn, shocked once again.

He offered a sweet smile that you couldn’t refuse.

“Where to, sir?” he smirked, pleased.

He had you right where he wanted.

“Wherever you’d like…”

Yeah, he seemed older, maybe late thirties, but he looked nice, he was approaching you, he could be single and you couldn’t miss the chance to say a neat guy like him showed interest in you.

“Sure” you finally accept and he starts leading the way.

“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have missed your vibrant clothing if I had seen you before,” he says as he keeps the door open for you to come out.

“Well, it’s not like I’m the most interesting or appealing woman, sir” he chuckles.

“If that were true, I would say there are no mirrors in your place, dear” You instantly blush, your legs feeling wobbly and a smile creeping up your face.

And you considered yourself fine, you had so much self-love. Still, you were thrilled to see how a man like him was interested in you

But he was lying. He had seen you for the first time a month ago….

…

You’re sweaty but freshly waxed.

Only you were imprudent enough to bake on a hot day. Your music was playing from your iPad charging in the kitchen when there was a knock on your door.

Your bare feet drag you across the living room and into the little reception room and when you open your door, you smile deeply.

“I brought our dinner” There is your salesman, in a dark grey suit, black tie, and dress shoes. Briefcase in one hand, takeout in the other.

“I baked cookies” you reply, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Can’t miss the smell…” he had never tried American cookies before.

Things were going well, to say the least.

The salesman was actually interested in you and turned out to be great company.

It would always amaze you how two different people could fit so well, like puzzle pieces that connect to totally different things.

His polished shoes rest near the entrance beside your sequin mary janes. His blazer was hanging beside your salmon coat and his hand was rubbing soft circles around your back.

Your legs were hanging over his lap and you were laying, one arm in the armrest of your coach while you admired the man beside you.

His eyes screamed he was falling in love, he knew. There was an unspoken rule about keeping private his identity and protecting the games. But no clause stated he couldn’t have interpersonal relationships or marry.

So there he was giving doe eyes to an American woman who was younger than him.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d say you have the eyes of a sweet sociopath” Both of you burst into laughter. Him actually finding the fun in your words.

If only you knew…

“And I’d say you have the eyes of a lovely perfectionist” you huff, playfully pulling his tie out of place.

“I’m not a perfectionist” he eyes your place as you laugh, noticing all the books and trinkets you had. “I just gave you half-burned cookies”

“And you also waited in advance to wait for your college website to open your registration window”

“Registration is a vital thing, handsome” he smiles and stares deeply at you, making you feel nervous but eager to smile back.

The comfortable feeling of being with him causes you to have an epiphany.

A realization from your heart.

Your fingers trace the fabric of his dress shirt and he pays closer attention to your touch.

“Will I ever see you with some clothes that are not nice suits?” He chuckles before leaning closer, applying pressure, your thighs pushing against your stomach.

“You could see me without the suit…” your cheeks burn and he notices it, smiling at the sight. “Don’t be shy, baby”

“You make me nervous all the time” you admit, a little giggle coming out involuntary.

“Really?” He asks feigning doubt, smiling, and grasping your chin.

You roll your eyes.

“Just kiss me already” he wastes no time and quickly pulls you into his lap.

What starts as a soft but deep kiss slowly turns into a needy one. Your fingers curl into his soft hair and his hands land in your hipbones, just to start urging you to grind against him.

“Don’t make me say it” you manage to say, out of breath as he started kissing your neck. “Just know that I want it so bad”

“As you wish so…” You didn’t know how badly he wanted to tie you up and see how much he could ruin you.

His lunatic behavior is well hidden under rough but lovely touches and nibbles all across your body.

His long fingers cherished each mole, scar, and stretch mark in your figure, only making you accept how much you liked him.

You pulled a handsome man like him and it only made your ego boost.

The salesman was made for you.

…

Over the months, while being abroad, you mastered your loneliness to the point where you had started to explore the city by yourself.

Now you have a boyfriend, but he gives you a lot of independence during the week.

Three weeks ago he took you to dinner and on the way back, while passing by a park, both of you acknowledged that dating would be fine.

There weren’t a lot of things in common between you two. Your salesman was older, he liked music from his childhood years from the eighties and loved grunge music from when he was a teenager. But he mostly loved classical music. He liked traditional Korean dishes and enjoyed sitting on your little terrace to simply enjoy the view.

When it came to you, you enjoyed all types of music but mostly from your childhood in the 2000s and 2010s, music that was released nowadays and from the fifties or sixties. You always missed dishes from back home and your boyfriend urged you to show him what you liked.

He was sweet but rough. A real gentleman who never made you feel insecure or uncomfortable, purely devotion.

The relationship remained new, but you could tell it was looking too good to be true.

You asked for a smoothie with spirulina and collagen. The smurf blue painted a little bit of your tongue as you sipped your drink outside of a coffee shop.

It was sunny and a little foggy at the same time, and you were utterly relaxed that you almost gagged when someone called you.

“… y/n?” when you turned to your left, you saw your boyfriend, in another suit, briefcase, and two bags full of bread in his hands.

You chuckled and frowned confused.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, taking off your sunglasses. “And why did you got all that bread?”

He wasn’t expecting you near him that morning. In fact, he wasn’t expecting you for the rest of the day. It was on the weekends when he was attached to the hip with you.

He could play the card of an obvious and innocent boyfriend very well.

“It is my day to buy treats for the workmates” he explains with a sweet smile, you sigh, smiling and nodding.

“Ah, I see” you reply, not knowing what else to say. “I had a very short lecture”

“Are you going home now?” He asked, not really worried but wanting to make sure you were not going to the park across the street. Just where he had plans…

“I think so. Maybe I’ll go to get some new trinkets from the mall” he nodded, debating whether to get closer to you or not. He wasn’t sure making contact with you in public was correct.

It was you who walked away, only turning to say goodbye.

“Call me tonight. And be safe, dear” you say smiling while blowing him a kiss.

It touched him. He had to be very careful now that he had you. Right where he wanted to.

…

There is no steam, but it should be.

It was another Friday, no more burdens until Monday.

And you weren’t alone.

“Fuck, y/n…” you had your salesman cursing and moaning your name in the shower.

“Just a little rougher, baby” you beg, savoring the cold water running down your throat and towards your breasts.

One of his hands skillfully carried your left leg up, so your knee was brushing his ribs.

“Aww, my girl wants more?” You nod, closing your eyes to focus on not cumming yet.

And out of nowhere, between deep and rough thrusts of him, you hear him saying something.

“I have to leave tomorrow,” he says between pants, with his eyes closed and battling with how good you were taking him. “Conference outside Seoul. Just a week, baby…”

Your pleasure is paused by his words.

“Why you waited to tell me a day before you’re leaving?…” he stops fucking you.

He realizes you didn’t take well the news and it makes him feel bad. He could swear there were almost tears in your face.

“Oh, no, my blossom. Don’t be sad…” you almost tear up, pathetic. But it took you by surprise and you hated saying goodbye even if it was temporary. “I’ll call you as soon as I can”

You do not say anything. You try to disguise your discomfort with the way he is still inside you, hard and ready to be back to action.

But he already knew you too well.

“I’m sorry. I’ll tell with anticipation next time” You eye him and you realize you love him.

“It’s okay. I understand”

Soon you forgot how well he went back to fucking you. Feeling so full of him, you kept tasting the way he moaned your name and kissed your chin.

But in the morning, just as you touched the cold and empty sheets, you missed him.

And as a woman, you couldn’t ignore the omen building up.

…

The first fight with your salesman wasn’t tremendous but it sure hurt.

You were utterly disappointed after not receiving a text or call from him in almost four days. You didn’t argue when he called, but it was beyond obvious that you were irritated. And it ended up in a bittersweet conversation and you hanging up abruptly.

The salesman was expecting you to yell and argue nonstop. But he was surprised by your short answers and tired tone of voice.

It made him feel bad. Like genuinely bad for worrying you.

But he couldn’t call you while being on the island. He had to wait an extra day to avoid suspicions from his boss. And now that he had a new task; to be extremely careful while being in Seoul because Seong Gi-hun was searching for him.

The salesman was stressed but as soon he heard your sweet voice, he almost felt bad.

You were his most precious thing in life.

The only thing keeping him from totally being insane. Like a magnetic pair, meant to fit despite being totally opposite.

You had such a strong hold on him that the salesman even found questioning his life decisions.

So he did a great job apologizing to you for not calling you sooner.

And a week later, he promised to take you to some thematic fancy bar in Gangnam.

He was smoking, a bad habit he had passed to you. But it was kind of a warm afternoon and he was waiting for you near the subway station.

A couple of minutes had passed when the salesman found himself out of breath after watching you arrive. Rarely does he see you in dresses, always vivid coats, shoes, and tops but never dresses.

That afternoon you had a cream satin gown, cowboy boots, and a long black coat. With red lips and sparkling eyes.

“By the way you’re looking at me… I might believe I look great” is the first thing you say, wrapping your arms around him and urging him to give you a peck. He chuckles, hugging you back.

“You also look too good, dear” his deep voice sends shivers through your spine.

He also looked too damn fine. Dress pants and a black turtleneck sweater, making him look younger and sexier-if that was even possible.

“Not too bad yourself too, honey” you compliment him and both of you start descending to the station.

You were excited because your salesman had shown you pictures of the bar, it was futuristic and you told him he had to take a lot of pictures of you in the restroom because it was all dark and it had neon lights. He rolled his eyes but assured me he would be your photographer.

By the time both of you were waiting, the salesman looked around.

Just to be careful. But to his surprise, it was more than that.

He studied the face of Seoung Gi-hun, he had only seen him once years ago. Now, it wasn’t only him the problem, but the shark loans he befriended.

A group of men looked around while seated on a bench, then texting.

“Let’s take a cab better” your boyfriend announces before grabbing your hand and dragging you upstairs again. “Wait- why?”

He doesn’t say anything, you look back and see a man staring at you in the distance.

Interesting…

“Are you telling me what the hell was that?” You ask again once you are back outside, on a sidewalk.

Your boyfriend eyes you briefly before turning away to gesture for a cab to stop.

“Didn’t you see that man? In maroon shirt and disheveled hair?” He asks and you frown.

“No?” he shrugs, opening the cab door for you. “Doesn’t matter… I just didn’t like how he was staring around. Maybe it was just me being paranoid”

You chuckle.

“As if they were looking for you…” his eyes snap open, and he turns to look at you after telling the directions to the driver. But you’re looking at the passing street.

He stares too much until something clicks.

Something he had completely missed.

…

Great food, great drinks, great pictures taken, and great kisses and subtle touches in the darkness of the dance floor.

When you open your eyes, you see only your desk lamp is on, everything else is quiet and dark. You are tied in a chair.

“How fun was to play detectives?” you hear him, standing up from your couch. “You’re the detective Seong Gi-hun hired”

The fucker had made you drink more than intended.

It was a few months after completing your first semester in Seoul. You needed money and Gi-hun needed a subtle person that wouldn’t draw much attention. A foreigner was perfect. He promised to prioritize your safety and be fair.

“I accepted the deal before I had even met you”

“Since when do you know?” He asks, demanding an immediate answer.

“The day I saw you at the bakery” you admit, sighing.

He chuckles, turning his back to you.

“Too damn smart, my girl” you should be scared, but you aren’t.

“Yeah no shit” you huff, your hands opening and then clenching in distress. “Now I’ve been playing dumb for weeks. Pretending I haven’t got new clues that lead to you…”

“That’s sweet of you…” he turns back to face you.

And lifts his arm, pointing at you with a revolver.

Suddenly not so romantic.

“Gonna kill me, honey?” you smile, feigning innocence.

“I should do so, according to my boss” he presses the gun against your forehead, but you don’t flinch.

Based on stereotypes and some intersectionality, he thought it was ‘so American of you’

“Then do it” you dare him, feeling how was paying more attention to the fallen straps of your nightgown dress. “Pull the fucking trigger, handsome”

“I really should kill you” Your lips taste the metal of the gun, your salesman is a little insane.

“But I love you” he chuckles, leaning, putting both his hands in the armrest of the chair.

Inches away from you.

“I love you too” Your lips brush against his, the tension increasing.

It was so weird for him to admit he loved someone. After spending more than two decades unable to feel genuine human emotions, he was nonchalant, but deep inside, he was scared.

So he untied your hands.

“So what we’re going to do about this?”

It’s unbearable to be so close to him and not throw you against him. Your arms hugging him and pulling him closer.

“We both hush, honey” you whisper in his ear.

He kisses you, sliding an arm under your legs and the other on your back, carrying you to bed.

“As long and far as we need to” he promises and you nod, kissing him.

…

SOMEONE, PLEASE TELL ME IF GONG YOO’s CHARACTER DIED OR NOT IN THE SILENT SEA 🗣️

[homunculus-argument]

I feel like I have the same curse as you of whenever I make a tumblr post, someone immediately shows up to miss the point in the most random way (if it's a post just saying "this thing is like that") or answer a *completely* different question than what i asked (if i was asking a question, no matter how well i thought i explained the context and specified what particular thing i was asking about). And i'm not even half as tumblr famous as you are

Granted that I mostly post about fandom nonsense, and because 1) that's a silly little hobby so whatever the post was about usually doesn't matter, 2) i just don't have the time and energy for arguing with people, and 3) i'm not as good with words as you and can't come up with similarly good responses, I generally don't reply or reply only once because the argument doesn't seem worth my effort. But it's still like, okay wow, genuinely how do people manage to misinterpret it like *that*

I would almost wonder if it's something about how Finnish people are used to talking and explaining things, but i don't think two people is enough data to tell, and i guess more likely it's just the nature of tumblr in general

I think that's just tumblr tbh. For a platform that's very text-heavy, there's an astonishing amount of people who can't read. I never understood why "reading comprehension" was tested in school, because before Tumblr it had not occurred to me that there are people out there who are capable of reading the words, but not understand the text.

And to be fair I grew up in a family where the default assumption about anything I said was that I must be wrong somehow, to the point that even if I said something that I knew they agreed with, they'd go out of their way to find a way to interpret it as something disagreeable. I had this skill honed to the point where I could do the "so you think darkness is your ally" Bane Speech about it.

[faemytho]

At the Peak of Truth, Despair Not

story analysis of the Diverged Paths costume set story with pure vanilla's truthless recluse and shadow milk's sage of truth, chunk by fucking chunk because i am INSANE and the parallels keep stacking up. they are the same in every universe. even this one.

this is an essay post and it is long. i am rambling a lot. i dissect certain lines in the story and talk about word choice. i also talk about how many parallels there are in this story to beast-yeast ep 7-8. i swear to god it makes sense. i am a writer by the way. fuck. anyways enjoy my insanity.

-

"Quiet, quiet! Our lecture will resume shortly! Please take your seats in a timely fashion!" A sonorous voice filled the old, quaint square. The voice belonged to a peculiar Cookie dressed in white and gold. Surrounded by a crowd of spectators, this mysterious Cookie now stood in the center of the square. He had just finished reciting an epic poem and was now explaining a convoluted philosophical concept to a freshly-baked flock, wide-eyed with wonder. "The Sage of Truth," they called him.

Setting the scene here, this is an "old, quaint square". The Sage is described here as "peculiar" and "mysterious", indicating that the cookies around him think he's odd. I'll return to the word "mysterious" later.

The word "flock" used here is also an interesting choice; a "flock of sheep". It's a backhanded way to call these cookies "sheep", which is used often in a derogatory way to indicate someone is unable to think for themself or unable to think critically at all, and just plays follow the leader instead of forging their own beliefs.

What's also an interesting thing to note is that the cookies call him "the Sage of Truth". The way this is phrased implies he didn't come up with that name, that he let the cookies name him. That, or he was waiting to be asked his name and was never asked, which I believe is also likely.

It almost seemed as if the Sage of Truth had always stood in that spot, sharing truths and teachings with anyone interested. With time, more and more Cookies came to listen to the Sage. Some said he was a professor of magic, others claimed he was an archivist, until an eager disciple decided to put an end to this dispute with a question. As always, the Sage welcomed the query with a graceful gesture. Pointing upwards, he uttered, "I hail from a peak so tall and narrow, it pierced the firmament itself!" His confounding reply caught everyone by surprise. Only then did the disciples realize that never once had the Sage spoken about himself. Yet, they wished for the lectures to continue and chose never to pry again.

The phrase here, "always stood in that spot", makes him seem more like an object, and less like a person with his own thoughts and feelings. The fact that the cookies begin to come up with things to say about him, that being that he's "a professor of magic", or that he's "an archivist", instead of asking him directly further lends to this line of thinking of him as an object.

This next part, where he is finally asked a question about himself, he exhibits two pieces of body language that show up later in the story at crucial moments. First, when he "welcomes" the query, he is being truthful about it; he wants more of these types of questions about himself. Second, when he "points upwards", he is lying; he claims to "hail from a peak so tall and narrow, it pierced the firmament itself!"

It is an exaggerated fib about the truth. This statement is immediately described as "confounding", meaning surprising or confusing especially in the context of not aligning with the inquirer's expected answer. The disciples then immediately realize that the Sage had never spoken about himself. Paired with such a confusing statement, one might think that such a realization would prompt more questions about the Sage himself, but instead, the disciples decide to focus on the knowledge he gives instead of wanting to learn about him, and so, never ask him another question about himself again.

This is why the Sage is described as "mysterious". They have never asked, and he has never told. The one time he was asked about himself, he said something exaggerated and outlandish; one can only assume he was trying to bait more questions of that nature, only for them to never come.

Another day, another fascinating lecture came to a close. The sky above began to tinge with red and Cookies headed back to their homes when a stranger entered the square. The visitor was draped in a dark cloak and donned an enormous hat that cast a shadow over his face. The Cookie stood there without saying a word and watched the Sage. The silence was broken by the Sage’s courteous greeting, his eyes having already discerned the shadow of despair hanging over the guest. "I don't believe I've seen you here before, my friend…! Alas, today's lecture is over. Care to come back on the morrow?" Yet, the dark visitor paid no heed to his words. "Stop teaching about the Truth." "Why must I?" inquired the Sage.

Setting the scene again for the debut of the Truthless Recluse. He approaches the square when the sun is setting and the sky is turning red, which is a nice bit of contrasting symbolism to Pure Vanilla representing the sun itself.

The Sage takes initiative to greet the Recluse, and immediately defaults to letting the Recluse know that he's done lecturing for the day instead of asking the Recluse about himself (not even a "How are you doing?"). One could speculate that this is a learned behavior; he is used to being used by the cookies who want knowledge from him, is never asked about himself, and as such, never asks personal questions of anybody else either.

But next, the Recluse addresses him directly, talks to him directly about the nature of what he does instead of asking for knowledge or treating him like something to wring answers from. This is probably the first time he's been talked to like this. It's a command, and he answers with a question of his own; the holder of the virtue of knowledge... answers with a question. "Why must I?"

The guest only grinned in reply and stepped closer. For the first time, a ray of light illuminated his face, and the Sage of Truth exclaimed delightedly. "Aaahh, if it isn't the Truthless Recluse himself. To what do I owe such a pleasure?" His monocle glistened with genuine curiosity. "It is said that the Truthless Recluse never descends from the Peak of Truth… How may this humble scholar be of service to you?"

It's interesting that the Sage recognizes the Recluse as soon as his face is revealed. It might indicate that they've met before, especially considering the Sage previously claimed to hail from what we can assume is the same peak the Truthless Recluse has stationed himself at.

The Sage is delighted to see the Recluse, and finally asks the Recluse a personal question, but phrases the question in an interesting way. "How may this humble scholar be of service to you?".

Calling himself humble could mean two things; that he is really a prideful person and is lying by calling himself humble to hide this fact, or, that, in choosing a passive adjective to describe himself with, he is attempting to deflect any aggression he might receive by asking a personal question. It could be both.

He also takes care to point out that he is "being of service".

The Recluse's eyes brimmed with sorrow. "Stop pretending. You know all too well that there is nothing at the Peak of Truth." The Sage clapped his hands. "Eureka! At last, the answer to the age-old question is found! Why the Recluse never leaves his beloved peak vacant! Why every Cookie who neared true enlightenment was inevitably pushed back from the ascension they so craved!"

The Recluse directly calls him a liar. "Stop pretending". The Sage of Truth is a liar! He tells lies and the Recluse can see right through them! But at least he has one thing going for him; he didn't name himself the Sage of Truth. The cookies did. They assumed he would never lie, and because nobody questions him, he has never been caught lying.

Cross referencing to canon Shadow Milk, we know that he holds resentment towards other cookies for just believing every word he said was truthful; being called out on a lie is probably something that's never happened before, especially not to the Sage of Truth.

On top of that, the Recluse is previously described as "a stranger", and the Sage mentions never having "seen him before" in the square where this takes place. All of that tied together means that the Recluse never heard the Sage's exaggerated fib about being from the Peak of Truth, and yet, somehow knows that the Sage is from the Peak of Truth. This is further evidence that the Sage and the Recluse have met before.

Upon being called a liar, the Sage of Truth reacts with delight, only to immediately deflect and deceive again. He turns the subject away from himself.

He tilted his head, expecting a confirmation. "All this time, my best hypothesis was that the Peak of Truth had been seized for good by some petty curmudgeon. Do you mean to say you sought only to protect seekers from disappointment?" The Recluse did not bother to deny the Sage's words for he loathed the Sage for guiding Cookies right into the maw of the cruel Truth. "I, too, once made the same mistake, and for that, faced despair upon the Peak… There was no Truth expecting me. No Truth to save us all. And I cursed myself hundreds, thousands of times over for my folly." And all his sorrow and despair surged forth in a single question. "Why do you persist?!"

"... seized for good by some petty curmudgeon". There's so much going on in this sentence.

If the Sage really does hail from the Peak of Truth, saying it was "seized" puts himself into a "helpless" position. If he cared about the Peak of Truth, what's stopping him from going to take it back? He is, after all, the holder of the virtue of knowledge, a godly power in his own right. Saying it was "seized" puts him in a helpless position and absolves him of any blame for anything that happens to it. Holding the power that he does at his fingertips also implies he doesn't care about the Peak of Truth at all, and is content to let it fall.

He says he'd thought the Truthless Recluse was a "petty curmudgeon"; I'll admit I had to look this word up, but it means a stubborn, ill-tempered person, typically an old man. Really funny actually, but he's negating this insult.

The Sage asks if the Recluse is turning cookies away from the truth to protect them from disappointment. The Recluse doesn't deny it; he "loaths" the Sage for guiding cookies towards the truth. Inverting that sentiment would imply that the Recluse turns cookies away from the truth to avoid disappointment, and uses deceit out of compassion for them. This is to prevent them from getting hurt, because "he too made the same mistake" of ascending to the truth, finding only despair instead.

The truth being described as a "cruel" "maw" is also such interesting imagery. It reminds me of Shadow Milk's snake that devours the sheep on the loading screen of the Awakened Pure Vanilla update. I'll also point out the fact again that the Sage's listeners were explicitly referred to as a "flock".

And finally, the question the Truthless Recluse asks the Sage of Truth. "Why do you persist?"

Because as far as the Recluse is concerned, he just got done explaining why the truth isn't worth it, so why should the Sage continue to preach it? Why do you persist?

It's a question asked out of a genuine, haunting, need to know why the Sage continues to send cookies into the hungry, crushing maw of Truth. It's asked out of desperate compassion for those cookies.

To that, the Sage only pointed upwards and said, "Alas, the Truth is imperfect by design… and yet, one must not turn away from the light of one's own Truth." And with a welcoming gesture, he added, "Not unlike yourself whose Truth is to protect others from anguish." The Recluse never answered. The Sage knew the answer anyway.

Here, the Sage points upwards; a previous indication that he's being deceptive. The statement he gives, "One must not turn away from the light of one's own Truth", seems to imply that he wants anyone listening to him to think that he thinks the truth is a good for cookies, of course, why wouldn't it be? However, throughout the entire story, the truth is regarded by the Sage as something negative, something that's been used to hurt, used to treat him like an object. So to truly answer the Recluse's question, what he's really implying here is that he guides cookies towards the truth because he's hurting, and he wants them to hurt too.

Next, he welcomes; a previous indication that he's being truthful. A welcoming gesture; spreading his arms wide, inviting the Recluse in. He truthfully wants the Recluse to call him out on this lie. He truthfully wants the Recluse to continue to speak with him. He sees an equal, a companion in the Recluse. Someone who understands.

This is such a blatant parallel to Compassionate Pure Vanilla offering friendship to Shadow Milk in episode 8, I would just like to point that out.

The Recluse never answers, but the Sage knows the answer anyway. Whether or not that "answer" is an agreement of companionship or a rejection of it is unclear, and is probably meant to be left ambiguous.

A long night passed and a new day dawned. Yesterday's guest was long gone, and the square was as peaceful as it could be… But the Sage could hear them. The footsteps of many seekers, stepping forth towards the Truth.

"The square was peaceful... But... the Sage could hear them."

This ending is very painful. The cycle of hurt continues. It would imply the Recluse rejected the Sage's offer of companionship, which is probably more likely here. However, the nature of the ambiguity means the Recluse could have accepted, and the seekers of truth may be what links the Sage and the Recluse now that they are apart. It's less likely.

Either way, they are the same in every universe. Even this one.

As I put it in a previous post, the difference between Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk, no matter which path either of them are on, is their compassion.

The Truthless Recluse pushes cookies away from the cruel truth, while the Sage of Truth encourages them to seek out what he knows will hurt them.

Because even on diverged paths, Pure Vanilla will always care, and Shadow Milk can't ever find a reason to.

[bywons]

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𖥔 PSH

𝖠𝖢𝖳𝗢𝗡𝗘────𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍

【 𝒪𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀 】 𝓁 ’───𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 𝟏𝟒𝟏𝟑𝗐 ｡ 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 ❛ 愛 ❜ 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇—𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋

스루 ܃ make sure to read until the end, & share your thoughts with me ! i hope ya'll will enjoy this :3

reb𝑙ogs ◇ 𝑓eedbacks 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾

park sunghoon disappeared from plain sight three years ago.

the boy you once loved so much, you would give him your heart and he was ready to give his. through shared kisses and intoxicating touches that sent a bolt of thunder through your bodies, you grew to love him even more.

and now you ache for him, your heart could never belong to anyone but park sunghoon. for the past three years, you have seen plenty of faces— even some so striking that you would consider dating them, if your heart hadn't belonged to sunghoon. you searched among the crowd of faces with an expecting heart to see his face popping up, but you had failed to see him anywhere.

so naturally, when one day your phone buzzes up at an unusual hour from an unknown number, claiming to be park sunghoon, you thought it was an awful prank. at first, you thought your eyes were deceiving you, a cruel trick of exhaustion or longing.

until something convinced you.

i don’t have much to explain, rose. i just want to see you.

he always called you by rose, your favourite flower.

i miss you, don’t know if you miss me.

god, you miss him more than anything.

you don’t want to invite him over, to let him see your vulnerable side. but you’re already so broken without him, and you take it as a sign from above— park sunghoon will finally be yours again.

the doorbell buzzes louder, and you realise you fell asleep on the couch while waiting for him, the news acting as a serenade in the background.

you hesitate. every rational part of your brain screams at you to leave it alone—to call someone, to ignore it, to do anything but walk towards the door. and yet, your feet move of their own accord, drawn forward by a force far stronger than fear.

the moment you unlock the door, a gust of cool night air rushes in, and there he stands.

park sunghoon.

exactly as you remember him. and yet—different.

he doesn’t say anything off the bat, and just stands there, staring at you with an emotion you can’t really figure out. your throat runs dry, before you step aside to let him in.

“—the city remains silent after the dreadful incident along the alley of the infamous club. the victims’ body is yet to be handed over to autopsy, but witnesses state, quote, it’s unbearable to stand such a sight—”

he sits down quietly before you on the couch. sunghoon watches you, the dim glow from the tv casting shadows across his face. his fingers tap idly against his knee, a familiar habit.

“so, you won’t ask me how i’ve been?” he finally says something, his dark locks of hair falling over his face just like old times. he looks exactly the same.

“should i?” you dig your nails into your palms, “would you even answer?”

his lips twitch, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as his gaze locks onto yours. “i missed you.”

“you left without nothing,” you finally push out the words you’ve been wanting to say, “d-did you ever think about me?” your voice cracks.

sunghoon visibly gulps, a shadow of guilt taking over his features. he pushes himself closer to you, “you’re all that i think about, rose. you’re my love, i love you—”

“oh, save it,” you spit, your eyes welling up with frustrated tears. you just couldn’t take the man's crap talk after three whole years, “you don’t care about me, you never did! sunghoon you just disappeared and decided to come back after so long without a word—”

“i know, i can—”

“where were you, sunghoon?” your voice shakes. “i—i thought you were dead.”

his eyes flicker with something unreadable. “i can’t explain it. not yet.”

“not yet?” you let out a hollow laugh. “three years, and you can’t even give me a reason?”

he inches closer, closing the space between you. his fingers brush your cheek—chilling, familiar, and devastating. “i didn’t want to leave you,” he murmurs. “i had no choice.”

faces close, you search for something in his eyes,

your breath is unsteady, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you like a force you can’t fight. his words should anger you. they should send you into a fit of rage, make you shove him away, make you scream at him for leaving you in the dark all this time.

but his touch, his voice, his mere presence is enough to crumble all the walls you built over the past three years.

“you had no choice?” you repeat, your voice dripping with disbelief. “then tell me, sunghoon. what was so important that you had to disappear without a trace? that you had to make me think i lost you forever?”

he exhales sharply, jaw clenching. his fingers ghost down your arm, almost as if testing if you’ll flinch away. you don’t.

“rose, i—” he hesitates, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place. “i want to tell you. but not yet.”

not yet. again.

you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “you always do this. keep me in the dark. make me feel like a fool for loving you.” your voice cracks at the last part.

his eyes darken. “you were never a fool for loving me.”

there’s just silence between the two of you again, the slow squeaking of the ceiling fan and the buzz from the news playing on the tv trying to fill it in.

“—hold on, i’m getting a call, hope this is an important source. heeseung you better not stop recording, we’re going to make big news—”

“then-” you hiccup, his cold touch along your forearm making you lose your eyes, “then prove it?”

“anything for you,” sunghoon whispers before he pushes his lips on yours, making your back crash into the couch. his featherlight touches on your skin, and you hiccup yet again. sunghoon clearly giggles into the kiss, his hands brushing off the hair from your face as his lips stay on yours.

the kiss is slow at first, almost hesitant before it turns into a need. you let him push your back completely against the couch, be on top of you. his fingers tangle in your hair, his touch igniting something primal in you. when his lips part from yours, he trails kisses down your jaw, your throat, sending shivers through your body.

“rose, i missed you,” he murmurs against your skin. “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

you giggle at his words, head turning towards the low humming tv as sunghoon continues loving you.

“—now reporting live from the crime scene, yet another body with similar m.o has been discov—”

you try not to pay much attention to the news, and focus on your lover, who’s busy pressing kisses on your face. he murmurs sweet nothings into your ear, reminding you of old times.

his breath is warm against your skin, his lips parting as he hovers over the pulse point at your neck. your heartbeat pounds beneath his touch, and for a brief moment, you think he hesitates.

then— a sharp gasp leaves your lips as his teeth barely graze your skin.

something about it feels wrong.

too sharp. too precise.

a sudden flash from the television catches your attention.

“—newfound horror. the victims were found with two puncture wounds on their neck… eerily similar to cases seen in vampire folklore—”

your blood runs cold as realisation settles in, you slowly push sunghoon back by his muscular shoulders, just right enough to glimpse at his eyes.

he refuses to look directly at you, maybe because he already predicted your reaction to this, or maybe he is looking at you— you simply cannot register anything as your blood runs cold.

sunghoons eyes glow red in the dark, white and sharp fangs baring out. his neck and face looks paler than ever, as if he's painted white.

you just lay there, shaken in fear, unable to do anything on your own but whimper his name. he coos at you, leaning down towards your neck.

“don’t worry, y/n,” he whispers, kissing the crook of your neck once more, “i love you, you won’t end up like them.”

the channel roars.

“—the polices’ advice is to stay indoors as often as possible, and immediately file a report if you come across suspicious activities—”

© BYWONS, 2025 / do not copy or repost without permission

taglist────open nets @/k-labels @k-films @kflixnet CLICK ME

[myth1cs]

Obedience Through Discipline (Myoui Mina x M!Reader)

Smut; An officer not listening to their superior is a clear sign of disobedience. Luckily nothing a bit of discipline can't fix. Word Count: 3,021

The hard part was already over. Now that you've finished the training phase now you could finally start doing some actual work. You were assigned to officer Myoui Mina. She was the best officer at the station though many people felt bad for you which you didn't understand why at first.

It didn't take long for you to figure out why. She was always someone who was very stuck up about following the rules. Every mistake you made was followed by a scolding by Mina on why what you did was wrong. While yes you did believe that this line of work didn't have room for mistakes you still felt like she was being too harsh on you.

Things only got worse when she became a sheriff only after a few months since you were partnered with her. Even though time after time she had clearly expressed her disdain for you she never made an attempt to get you fired. In fact ever since she became sheriff it felt like she was keeping a closer eye on you. And you'd be lying if you said it wasn't making you nervous.

During your break you were sitting in your patrol car alone since your partner Nayeon decided to have her break inside. While you were eating your lunch you heard a knocking on your window. You looked up and saw that it was none other than sheriff Mina.

You rolled down your window and greeted her. "Hello sheriff Mina. Can I help you with anything?"

"You know about the parade happening downtown next week right?"

"Of course, what about it?"

"Well Ryujin got injured in the line of duty yesterday and the doctor said she wouldn't be fit to come into work for the next 2 months. So now I need someone to replace her for patrolling the area around the parade. I'm guessing you can see where I'm going with this."

This was a surprise to you. Why was she asking you anyway? There were officers who have been serving longer in the police force which she respected more that would be available to take over Ryujin's shift.

"With all due respect sheriff I believe others may be more qualified than me. Why not try asking officer Kyujin or-"

"I don't think you understand Y/N. This isn't a request, it's an order. You WILL be the one patrolling the area during next week's parade."

You let out a sigh knowing that there was no debating this with her. Once Mina makes up her mind her decision is final.

"Alright sheriff."

You rolled back up your window and Mina walked back towards the station. "Damn brat, who does he think he is trying to tell me how to do my job? Tsk, it's my fault for letting his disobedience go on for too long. I'll have to do something about that."

Breathing a sigh of relief you were glad that the encounter went rather well. Usually she would scold you for trying to talk back for at least half an hour but this time she didn't. Though you wondered if this truly was a good thing or if there was another reason behind Mina's actions. But you didn't ponder on that idea for too long. It was silly to think otherwise... or so you thought.

The week flew by in a blink of an eye. Before you knew it it was the day before the parade. You had to attend a meeting about where everyone would be stationed at the parade and what protocols to follow. You weren't really paying attention to Mina's speech though. Not like your role was rather complicated. Just simply patrolling the perimeter, if you see anything suspicious you were to report it.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

Mina's yelling took you out of your thoughts.

"Wh- what happened?"

The whole room had gone silent. Everyone simply stared at you without saying a word. Mina walked towards you and you felt your heartbeat fasten. You felt like your heart was going to explode or that you would faint from nervousness at any moment.

"You think you're too smart for this huh?" Mina said with a mocking tone.

"N- no I would never-"

"Meet me at my office."

Mina walked back to the front of the room. The tension was thick in the air. Everyone paid attention to Mina, everyone was too scared to look away from Mina.

The meeting wasn't supposed to go on for too long. But it felt like it went by in just a few seconds while also feeling like it went on for 5 hours. Everyone avoided you as they left the room. You followed Mina to her office, hands sweating, and your heart was beating so loud you thought everyone in the building could hear it.

Mina unlocked her office door and walked in. Your legs didn't want to move forward. Was it fear? But what were you afraid of? Losing your job or was it something else?

"What are you waiting for Y/N?"

"Pardon me."

You walked in. Mina closed the door behind you and locked it which made you more nervous. "Sit down." Mina commanded as she pointed at a chair. You obeyed and sat down.

"You know what you did wrong?"

"I uhm-"

Mina sat down on her desk crossing her legs. She reached down to grab your chin and lifted it up to make you look at her.

"Look into my eyes as you say it."

"I wasn't listening."

"Say it with your full chest Y/N. I can't hear you."

"I wasn't listening!"

"Not listening to your superior are you Y/N? How troublesome indeed, will I have to punish you for this?"

"No sheriff, I'll behave from now on."

"Good to hear Y/N."

Mina's voice suddenly dropped.

"Cause this is your last warning."

Mina got off her table and went to sit down on her chair behind her desk. "Now get out."

Without hesitation you got up from your chair and made your way out of her office. As you left her office you breathed out a sigh of relief.

You went to your car to drive home but you suddenly bumped into your partner, Nayeon, in the parking lot.

"So Y/N were you fired?"

"What kind of question is that?! No I wasn't fired!"

"Relax Y/N I just had to know. So what did Mina talk to you about?"

"She just told me that this was my last warning."

"Well if that's all then I guess that's rather tame then."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Y/N I don't think I need to spell it out for you. Mina doesn't take things like this very lightly. If it was anyone else I'm sure she would've fired them already. And don't you think that she's been scolding you less recently?"

"Yeah I kinda picked up on it. Maybe this is a sign that she's turning over a new leaf."

"We can only hope so. Still the aura I get from even being in the same room as her is terrifying. I swear she gives off nothing but "Look at me the wrong way and I'll kill you" vibes."

"I swear she's knocked a few years off my life already."

"I feel that, anyways good luck with patrol duty tomorrow."

"Good luck to you to Nayeon."

-

The day of the parade came and you, along with a few other officers, were assigned to patrol the parameter and told to report anything deemed suspicious.

The area you were currently paroling didn't have many people. A few people passed by but nothing suspicious was happening in particular.

As you were walking you saw two people in an ally way. It seemed like they were committing an act of vandalism. While you were ordered to report things this wasn't any suspicious activity it was just people being stupid so you decided to just quickly deal with the situation.

Vandalism isn't something that you would arrest someone for in all honesty it was just a small misdemeanor but realized these were the same people you've had run-ins with these people before. At this point they were just begging for a prison sentence. The sentence for something like this was only up to a year so you didn't feel too bad.

-

Mina put Hwi in charge while she went on her break. For some reason she couldn't shake off the feeling that even though she told you that you were on your last warning you would still not listen to her. She made her way to where you were stationed.

"What the- I give him ONE job and he can't even follow that."

She pulled out her phone and called you. It only rang a few times before you picked up.

"Yes Mina?"

"Where are you?!"

"I'm driving these two people to the station-"

"Damn it you're supposed to report things! Do you even listen to me when I speak to you?!"

"Mina I-"

"I don't want to hear it! Meet me at my office the minute you're off the clock."

"But-" Before you could rebuttal Mina had already hung up.

You knew you were about to lose your job.

-

Once you got back to the parade Mina assigned someone else to stay by your side to make sure that you wouldn't deviate from your job.

The rest of the parade went fine. Nothing major happened that was worth noting. But you couldn't help but wish that it wouldn't end. You weren't prepared to be yelled at by Mina and get fired.

To your dismay the parade ended and so did your shift. You got a good look at yourself in your uniform before you walked to Mina's office knowing this was the last time you would be wearing it.

You had to pull yourself together and muster all your strength and courage to walk to Mina's office. Now you were standing in front of her door and you prepared for the worst.

Putting your hand on the handle and turning it you fully opened the door. Mina was sitting behind her desk sorting some paperwork.

Unsure what to do, you stood at the doorway simply staring at Mina. After a few minutes she looked up and made eye contact with you.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in and take a seat in front of me?"

Without saying a word you walked in and closed the door before you went to sit down in front of Mina not daring to make any sort of eye contact with her.

She looked at you for a few seconds before she went to type something on her computer. It seemed like she was just doing work for the sake of it but you couldn't tell.

Eventually she got up and walked up to her board where she had pinned a few documents. You glanced at the clock and saw that it was about time where most people were headed home. Most officers working at this hour were patrolling the downtown area.

Mina sighed and turned to face you. "It's impossible for you to listen. So what should I do with you?"

Was it a rhetorical question?

"I'd much prefer if I could keep my job, sheriff."

"You're almost at your one year mark. And this marks my third month of having to deal with you as sgeriff. So..."

"Please don't fire me."

"That's not what I asked so I'll ask again, What should I do with you?"

"Uhm"

"Ran out of excuses have you?"

"I never made excuses sheriff."

Mina took a deep breath.

"Do you know why I'm stringent with the rules Y/N?"

"Because this line of work doesn't have room for failure?"

"Well that's not my main reason. Do you know the main reason?"

"I don't, sheriff."

"It's because I don't want to see people hurt." Mina walked over to you towering over you. "Or maybe I should be more specific. I don't want to see you hurt."

Mina reached behind her back and grabbed handcuffs. She danged them in front of you. "But I can't just let this slip by. I'm going to punish you."

The situation seemed to develop so fast you didn't register what Mina just said until she was handcuffing you.

"Sorry I leave the fuzzy handcuffs at home so we'll have to make do with these."

Part of you was hoping she was joking. Was this really happening, were you about to do it with Mina?!

"Don't do this Mina. Th- this isn't right!"

"Don't speak back to me you filthy brat!"

Mina's sudden outburst scared you and made you quickly shut up not daring to try to speak out of term.

"Now be a good boy for my Y/N. Just sit here and accept your punishment."

Mina got down on her knees and started to undo your pants. There wasn't anything you could do but simply watch. Once she took off your pants she ran her fingers along your thigh.

"P- please stop."

"You want me to stop darling? But your body is reacting so eagerly to my touch. Are you sure you want me to stop?"

She wasn't lying, you were yearning for her touch as much as you wanted to deny it. Before you could respond Mina smacked your thigh. It wasn't too harsh but it stung a little.

"But darling, I thought I told you not to speak out. Don't make me remind you again okay?"

"Ow fuck-"

She smacked you again.

"Drop the language."

"Y- yes ma'am."

Mina kissed your thighs while her fingers were rubbing against your clothed aching cock. You wanted this to continue but you knew this was wrong. It's not like this is standard protocol and she didn't even ask if you were okay with it. Yet you still couldn't help but be turned on by the given situation.

Even though you denied it your body knew what it really wanted. Shivering every time she ran her finger on your body to your cock hardening it was all too obvious.

She could tell you wanted to say something. "If you want to say something then I'm granting you this opportunity to say it."

"Please"

"Please what darling? Use your big boy words now."

"Suck me off Mina please I'm begging you."

"Begging now are we? Well I'm not entirely convinced yet, maybe you should beg me some more and I'll consider listening to you."

"Mina please, I really want you to fuck me until I can't walk. I want to lose all senses and be at your mercy."

Mina giggled at your statement. "Oh darling if you think that's enough to get me to listen to you you're going to have to try a little harder than that I'm afraid."

"Please fuck me Mina! I only crave your touch, I swear I'll listen to every order you give me!"

Mina rubbed her nose against your clothed cock. "That's more like it darling. However since you've been so disobedient then you'll have to make me cum before I give you any pleasure."

She proceeded to stand up and take off her clothes. Mina made sure to take her sweet time taking off her clothes. She knew it was driving you crazy and you wanted to get up and take her clothes off for her but your hands were handcuffed to each other.

Eventually she stripped down to her bra and underwear. Both were the same colour of pink. Mina sat up on her desk and started to rub her pussy using one of her fingers.

Low moans fell out of her mouth as she pleasured herself. You couldn't do anything but watch. You felt yourself get turned on by watching the scene unfold in front of you.

"What are you waiting for darling? Come and make me cum!"

"My hands are tied."

Mina laughed at your comment "Of course you are darling. But I didn't put a gag on you did I?"

When you realized what Mina wanted you leaned forward and used your mouth to take off her underwear.

"Just like that darling, make this a learning experience!"

You buried your face onto Mina's pussy and shoved your tongue deep into her. Mina wrapped her legs around you tightly cutting off your air supply. "If you want to breathe then make me cum. Or else you'll suffocate between my thighs. Though I'm guessing you'd be okay with that wouldn't you darling?"

Fastening your pace you licked every inch of Mina's delicious pussy. Part of you wished your hands weren't tied so you could grab her boobs. But the current situation would do.

Though you tried desperately you felt yourself losing consciousness and before you knew it everything went black. "Aw did you pass out already?"

Mina unwrapped her thighs that were around your head and started to finger herself. Wet sounds filled the room as she shoved her fingers in and out of herself while her other hand was on her clit.

You were suddenly woken up by the feeling of something splashing on your face. When your eyes adjusted you realized it must've been Mina's cum.

"Oh your awake again darling?"

"Mina what-"

Another smack was given to you.

"What did I say about speaking out of term? And to think I thought about letting you cum. Since you seem to suck at making me cum and suck at listening to orders then I'll let you sit here and think about your actions."

Mina got up and put her clothes back on and you didn't do anything but watch as she started to leave the room.

"Don't worry darling I'll come and get you early in the morning. Till then think about your actions and I might let you cum first thing in the morning!" Mina said as she left the room closing the door behind her leaving you handcuffed to the chair to think about your actions that lead you to this moment.

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

Sorry for not uploading even though I said I would get back on schedule. In my defense I've been reading a really good Lux/Jinx fanfic.

Starring: You Mina, Nayeon (TWICE) Ryujin (ITZY) Kyujin (NMIXX) Hwi (TNX)

[sinofwriting]

Burning Satisfaction - Charles Leclerc (Dark Fic) (Part One)

Words: 1,177 Summary: People always said that Charles would do the right thing, they just never actually expected him to do it. Note(s): Slightly Dark Fic, Age Gap of 7/8 years (Reader is 20), Gasly!Reader, Reader is Pierre’s younger sister, barely any physical descriptors are given for reader so she could be adopted (as is usually the case for all my sibling!reader fic). Also Charles calls her ‘Petit’ because she is the youngest aka littlest Gasly. There will be a part two!

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“Cha?” He turns at the nickname, beaming at the girl.

“Petit! I didn’t know you would be coming today.” He’s unable to stop himself from looking her up and down, wishing the marks he left on her just yesterday were visible.

Her eyes dart downwards, fingers tugging at the hem of her top. “I need to talk to you.”

The quietness of her voice makes his smile drop and he sets his drink on the bar, wrapping an arm around her and ushering her into his bedroom on the yacht. Happy that everyone is still out on deck while he had left to grab himself a drink while taking a quick call.

“What is wrong, petit?” Charles asks, voice as gentle as he can make it as he guides her to sit on the edge of the bed, easily joining her, so he doesn’t have to remove his arm.

She takes a shaky breath, eyes focused on her hands that are now resting her lap, fingers twitching and he reaches with his free hand, stilling the nervous movements.

He says her name, her head nearly snapping upwards at it, the sound of him saying it nearly unfamiliar to her. “It is just me. You can tell me anything.” He squeezes her hands.

Another shaky breath exits her mouth and he watches as her throat bobs as she swallows harshly. “I,” she pauses, licking her lips. “I think I’m pregnant.”

His hand that had been unknowingly rubbing soothing circles on her back freezes for a split second.

“It’s just, I’m late. And I’ve never been late. And I didn’t lie about being on birth control, Cha, I promise! I know we used condoms and I don’t think any of them broke, but I’m late, and I’ve thrown up the last three mornings from the smell of eggs.” Tears are streaming down her face, her words growing more frantic, but he’s unable to speak. “But, please Cha, you have to believe me, I take my pill every day. At nine am, no matter what. I have an alarm set.” Her breathing is now choppy and he finds his words, shushing her.

“I believe you. I’ve seen your alarm, it is okay.” He soothes, lifting his hand from hers and wiping away her tears that are still falling. “Have you taken a test?”

She bites her lip, shaking her head. “No. I bought one, it’s in my bag, but I needed to tell someone.”

“So you came to me.”

She nods and it burns how he has to stop himself from looking satisfied at the answer.

“How about, you drink this and we will talk.” He reaches for the water bottle on his nightstand, smiling at the giggle she lets out when he has to lay flat on his back to awkwardly reach it while still keeping contact with her.

“You have options.” He says, the words burning, the idea of all of them burning him, though one for a very different reason.

“I know.” She says, after taking a drink of water. “But I want this baby, if I am. It’s just,” She pauses again, looking so shy and unsure it makes him move closer.

“What? It’s just what?”

She looks at him shyly, fingers back to pulling at her top before he intertwines them with his. “There’s a difference between having sex before marriage and a baby out of wedlock.”

His breath hitches at the words, at the shy suggestion. His want and satisfaction overwhelm him, his grip on her hand tightening, but before she can apologize or take the words back, he lifts her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, hoping she can feel his love and devotion to her through the small action. “I would happily marry you if you are pregnant.” The last four words are forced out of his mouth in an odd way.

“I know how much your faith matters to you.” His eyes focus on the necklace she is always wearing, the cross hidden behind her t-shirt, a gift from Pierre when she had turned twelve. “And I would never ask that you sacrifice it like that.”

“It wouldn’t just be the baby if we were to get married. I, I want a real marriage, like my mama and papa.”

He smiles, “we can have a real marriage. I would not mind having one with you.”

“But if you found someone else?”

Charles shakes his head. “I don’t believe that will happen.” His voice is so firm, so certain, that he sees the slight uncertainty leave her eyes. “Now, finish your water.”

She immediately lifts the bottle to her lips and he has to look away before he smiles at the easy way she listened to him.

He is thankful it doesn’t take her long to have to use the bathroom and he watches as she gets up and goes to the small bathroom attached, the door closing with a quiet click.

As soon as it does, he’s unable to stop the wide smile that spreads across his face. Head dropping into his hands as he lets out a silent laugh. It had been a gamble if it would work, getting her pregnant. And really he is lucky, she was unlike Pierre, still unpracticed at sex at nineteen, or rather twenty now, and not realizing she should not feel so much leaking out at the end. But it worked. He had gotten her pregnant. Just barely eight weeks after the first time they had sex.

The flush of the toilet has him raising his head from his hands, body itching to stand and open the bathroom door, to stare at the test and watch as it makes his want for her to fully be his, finally be true.

The bathroom door opens with a small click and he smiles at her, opening his arms for her and she doesn’t hesitate, easily sitting on his lap so he can hold her.

“And now we wait?” He asks, running a hand up and down her back.

She takes a shaky breath. “And now we wait.”

The feeling of her in his arms is enough to stop him from going to the bathroom, to stare at the counter and watch as the test changes. It is all too easy for him to lose himself in her warmth, the smell of her, the brushes of her breath against his neck as she breathes in and out.

“Do you think it’s been five minutes?” Her quiet voice breaks the stillness of the room after a while.

“I think so.”

She’s slow to pull away from him, but before she can try and stand, he grabs her waist, keeping her where she is, before one hand raises to gently hold her face, eyes meeting.

“No matter what the test says, it will be okay. We will figure it out.” Charles tells her, waiting for her to give a nod before pressing their lips together in perhaps one of the most chaste kisses they’ve ever shared.

[fipindustries]

ok here is my final observation, because im genuenly not sure anyone actually disagrees here.

This is too late to notice but the conversation got stuck in abstractions and high level ideas, "cheering", "treating with human dignity" "coddling". What are we talking about here? No, seriously, what do we mean in like actual concrete, material, actionable terms?

If a maga relative comes to us, say in thanksgiving, and say they regreat voting for trump, what is the actual, in the real world procedure? Spit in their face? Ignore them? Tell them "you are an idiot for falling for it", just say "well, good, finally, hopefully you now see tge error of your actions" in a curt tone? Pat them on the back with a "welcome back"? Hug them with tears of relief? Welcome them back in ypur life fully?

Same with a co-worker. Same with an ex friend, same with the comment section of a content creator, or the dms of someone posting online.

What are the prtocols in each instance, i cannot imagine they are the same or that the same words, or attitude applies for all of them. What does "keep them on the lower rung" even mean?

A concrete example, richard hanania, famous right winger, apparently became a never trumper. My answer to that was to write a post to the tune of "a little convenient for him and too little too late". Which i imagine is what josh thinks we ought to do. But that was because its hanania who were talking about. If a relative 0f mine were t0 do the same i would probably react a lot more warmly in person, i would smile and thank them for changing their mind. If some nobody farmer in alabama were to post that online, well frankly i would probably ignore it because i would personally wouldnt care about that guy much. And obviously im not above posting leopard memes in the privacy of my blog

People propose these abstract, broad strategies online for how "we" ought to act and like, i dont actually know what any of this means and im realizing i dont actually know what im arguing against or about

This is an interesting thing. Looks like testimonies of people who left the MAGA movement- how they got into it and why.

Leaving a cult is really hard, so I really respect the people who are speaking from this place.

[covenofagatha]

The psychology of love (Part 3)

Your first date with Morgan and a lesson in defense mechanisms and the delay of gratification

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: none yet, slowburn

Morgan and you go out to dinner the next day. You had seriously been considering just never texting her and making more of an effort to avoid her, but Wanda and Nat pestered you continuously during breakfast until you had given in. 

Turns out, you were both free that night. 

You had a class in the evening, so you meet her at the pizza place off-campus after. She’s wearing a light blue dress that brings out the color in her eyes and her Black Opium perfume makes you wish there was someone different sitting in front of you. 

“Did you have a good day?” she asks while you’re waiting for your pizzas to be done cooking. The awkwardness of a first date is hanging over you, coupled with the fact that her fingers were inside you on Monday. You’re still a little shocked that happened. 

But you nod and smile. Morgan is nice, and she’s trying. The least you could do is try as well. “Yeah, I had two classes. They’re both pretty easy. My hardest are definitely Physiological Psych and Personality Psych.” 

Even the mention of the latter makes your stomach clench. Agatha has wormed her way into your brain and you don’t know how to get her out. The perfume you ordered should be here tomorrow and you regret buying it. 

Realistically, what are you going to do with it? You can’t wear it—both Morgan and Agatha will pick up on it. It’d be absolutely pathetic to spray your pillow with it and imagine it’s Agatha next to you, plus Wanda would surely wonder about that. 

Which means you spent one-hundred dollars on a bottle of perfume that’s going to sit on your desk and serve as a reminder that you’re delusional. 

A waitress brings over your personal pizzas and sets them down in front of you, steam billowing off. 

Morgan’s looking at you, a little expectantly, and you clear your throat. “How was your day?” you ask, realizing that you never returned the question.

“Pretty good, thanks. I had an International Relations class. We already have a quiz next Tuesday, which is crazy considering this was our second day of meeting.” You learned that she’s a Political Science major while you were waiting in line for pizza. 

She doesn’t say anything else, so you chew on your lip and try to think of ways to get the conversation going. “So…how did you get into political science?” At least her face brightens at that. 

“My dad works in local government and I’ve always been really interested in it. I’ve interned at his office since I was probably sixteen? I’ll be able to get a job with him once I graduate and then hopefully I can be elected for something,” she says before launching into a few stories about town halls that she’s been a part of. She’s from a small town in Indiana and the people there are apparently a little unhinged.

Morgan’s just telling you about a petition one man started to make his birthday a town holiday when the door to the restaurant opens and a familiar face walks in. 

It’s Agatha’s standoffish TA. Morgan is still talking but your eyes follow Rio as she walks up to the counter and shows them her phone. The lady nods and picks up a boxed pizza that’s sitting next to her and hands it to Rio. 

As she’s walking to the exit, she tilts her head over to you like she feels you staring. You quickly look away but in your periphery, you can see her coming closer until you have no choice but to crane your neck up at her. 

“You’re in Professor Harkness’s class, aren’t you?” Rio asks, but it’s more of a statement than a question. She obviously remembers you from Agatha’s office yesterday. 

You nod and she chuckles amusedly, tongue bulging in her cheek. Her complete one-eighty of a personality change is throwing you off. 

Rio glances at Morgan and then back to you, a gleam in her eyes. “Good luck.” Before you can ask what she means—is she talking about Agatha’s class? talking about Morgan?—she shifts the pizza in her arms and strolls out the door without looking back. 

Morgan raises an eyebrow at you. “That was weird.” 

You choose to not say anything and take a bite of your pizza, instantly wincing when it burns your mouth. “Did the man get his petition approved?” you refer to what she had been talking about before Rio, and Morgan dives back into that memory. 

She talks for most of dinner, only really taking a break while she’s eating, and then you walk her to her car. Thankfully, neither of you wants to hang out in the resultant once you’re both done with your food. She’s parked right in front whereas you had to find a spot in the garage behind the row of restaurants. 

“Do you want me to give you a ride to your car?” Morgan offers and you pretend to think about it before shaking your head. 

“No, that’s okay. It’s not very far.” There’s a minute of silent shuffling while you both try to figure out how to end the date. “Um, well I had a great time with you tonight. Let’s do this again soon?” 

She smiles warmly. “I’d love that.” And then Morgan leans in to press a quick kiss to your cheek before getting in her car. Her perfume drifts into your nostrils and lingers and you hear Agatha’s voice telling you that you did very good. Heat flashes through you but you tamp it down. 

You wait until Morgan drives off before turning to head to the parking garage, but you see another person that you know in the shadows. 

Professor Harkness. 

Your heart lurches as she pushes off the building wall she was leaning against and steps into the light. She’s wearing blue pants and a matching blazer over a black turtleneck. The gold from her necklace catches the streetlamp glow. Her long, loose hair frames her face and you can see her blue eyes glinting even in the dark.

Swallowing roughly, you irrationally worry that she’s going to be mad about you and Morgan. A part of you wants her to be mad. 

But she just smirks instead. “Dinner with a friend?” 

“Something like that,” you mutter, shrugging inconspicuously. “What are you doing here?” It seems like she’s waiting for someone—a date? Not that it matters, of course. You just want insight into your mysterious teacher. 

She moves closer to you, close enough so you can smell her perfume. It’s getting really fucking confusing with both Agatha and Morgan wearing the same scent. “I’m just picking up dinner,” she hums. “Nothing as exciting as you.” 

Your cheeks burn. “That wasn’t anything, just a first date. We met at a party a few days ago.” When I let her fuck me because she reminded me of you.

Agatha nods like she knows something you don’t. “Do you remember learning about defense mechanisms?” 

“What?” 

“In a general psych class, did you ever learn about defense mechanisms? Freudian methodology, of course, that believes our ego unconsciously wants to protect the superego from the id when we do something that would otherwise cause us anxiety, guilt, and shame.” 

“I mean, yeah?” You’ve heard of them, but why is she bringing them up? 

She waves a hand at your apparent confusion. “We’ll get more into them later in the semester. I just think it’s neat, you know? How we can be doing something and not even be aware that we’re doing it. Denial, rationalization,” she fixes you with a pointed look, “transference. The mind does really work in interesting ways.” 

You nod and bite your nails, not sure what to say. It feels like you’re missing something by a mile.

But Agatha just smiles. “See you tomorrow in class, hon.” She winks before leaving you outside and you slowly trudge back to your car, completely dumbfounded. 

Once you get back to your dorm, the conversation with Agatha still fresh in your mind, you halfheartedly return Wanda’s greeting and take out your computer and type “transference” into Google. 

Transference is the psychological phenomenon where someone redirects feelings from one person onto another. It occurs when someone unconsciously projects feelings or desires onto someone else. 

“Holy shit,” you say out loud, your blood running cold. Wanda’s head turns toward you but it’s like you have tunnel vision. 

Was Agatha implying that you going out with Morgan is you redirecting your feelings toward your professor onto someone who looks like her? 

Your heart is thumping so loud you can hear it. Are you being that obvious to Agatha? Can she tell that you have a crush on her? 

As if to make matters worse, you get an email notification saying that a package has been delivered—the perfume. A whole day early, like the universe wants to prove its point. 

You let it sit in the delivery room all night because you don’t trust yourself not to go crazy if you smell it right now. 

But you barely get any sleep at all just thinking about it. 

The next morning, Wanda and Nat interrogate you at breakfast. You had told Wanda the general basics of how the date had gone last night, but now they’re pressing you for the details, which you reluctantly give. 

“It was good, she spent a lot of time talking about interning for her town’s government. She’s a Poli-Sci major—” Nat scoffs and rolls her eyes and Wanda laughs, “—and apparently her dad is like the mayor or a council member? I don’t know, I mean, she’s nice and all…” 

“Oh, come on,” Wanda says, fond exasperation staining her voice. “You always do this. You meet a great girl and then you decide that she’s boring or that you don’t really like her or you make one tiny thing of their personality into a big problem. Why can’t you just let yourself have something?” 

It stings how well she knows you. “I just…I don’t know…I’m just not sure we’d work that well together. And it doesn’t really make sense to get into a relationship now, does it? We’re graduating in the spring so why start something new if we’re going to end up in different places? She wants to go back to Indiana and I’ll probably stay here or go back home, so it just doesn’t seem like there’s much of a point.” 

Nat looks unimpressed. “Really? That’s your excuse for why you’re going to self-sabotage? If only long-distance was a thing, god.” 

Wanda pats her girlfriend’s hand and stifles a smirk at the sarcasm. “Just because it’s not going to end in marriage doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” she says gently. “Why not go on a few more dates, just to see what happens? And who knows? She could be worth it.” 

It won’t work because she’s not at least twice my age. Except you can’t exactly tell your friends that. So instead you say, “Yeah, maybe.” 

“Even if it’s not a relationship, it could be a friends-with-benefits situation,” Natasha adds and Wanda snorts. “You’ve already had sex with her so you already know what you’d be getting into.” 

“Okay, okay,” you grimace at her crassness and push your chair back. “I have to get to class.” 

You have about twenty minutes before it starts, so you’re not in a rush, but you need the walk to clear your head and mentally prepare for seeing Agatha. The quip about transference has you still reeling and it’s only the third day of this class but it’s already the second time you’ve been nervous to look at her. You’re not sure you can get in trouble for having a crush on a teacher but you certainly don’t want Agatha being uncomfortable around you.

So you’ll keep your distance. You’ll go to class and take notes and answer questions, but you’ll leave right after. You won’t let her praise affect you and you will definitely not get close enough to smell her perfume that makes your cunt pulse. 

Practically everything you were just thinking goes out the window when you walk into class and see her standing at the front of the room. 

Agatha’s wearing another turtleneck, white this time, under a tan blazer and matching pants. You wonder if she’s been wearing them to hide hickeys on her neck—but then you remind yourself that you don’t care, despite the growing feeling of jealousy in your stomach from your absolutely baseless speculations. 

She smiles at you, something dark hidden behind her pink lips, and you shiver as you sit down. Does she know what she does to you? The praises, the projection tests from Wednesday, the way she looks at you? 

She seems to like you more than the other students in the class—is that just because you answer questions? Does she encourage you for that because she needs someone to? You’ve had classes where absolutely no one would talk and it was awful. Her praising you for that could just be her way of making sure there’s not an awkward silence. 

But it feels direct, pointed even. Like she wants it to be you.

Or is that just you hoping? 

Agatha isn’t the first teacher you’ve had a crush on, not by a long shot. There was the English teacher when you were in eighth grade. She wasn’t even your teacher, but you still found excuses to talk to her. There was your ninth grade Biology teacher, and then you took her Environmental Science class senior year just to have her again. Your Developmental Psychology professor from the spring semester of your first year in college. You’re sure there’s more. Each time, though, you were certain that you were special. 

Each time, you were sorely disappointed, but not surprised. 

You want to say that it feels different with Agatha, but you need to get a grip on yourself. 

She’s in her late forties, at least. She might have a partner. You glance at her hands as she’s typing something on the computer. No ring. That doesn’t mean anything, you tell yourself. 

But she could get in serious trouble for sleeping with a student. If everything else worked out, if all the other stars aligned and by some way, she did want you, she’d never risk her job over that. She has two doctorates and has published multiple articles about her research, which you’ve been meaning to read, and has won several awards for her work. She’s devoted her whole life to psychology and you are not going to change that. 

Agatha may tease, but at the end of the day, you feel confident that she will never be anything but professional, which means that you really need to get over this. 

“Okay, getting back into Trait Theory,” Agatha starts and you scramble for your notebook. She clicks present on the slideshow and you begin scribbling down everything typed on the first slide. “Theorists who approach personality through the Trait approach want to know what exactly traits are and what they do. Do they describe how we behave? Are they a sum of all we’ve learned? Do they reflect underlying personality? Are they the building blocks of our personality?” 

You chew on the tip of your pen and Agatha’s eyes flick to you with a glint in them. Her lips twitch up and you freeze. 

“The problem with traits is that people are inconsistent. We act one way when we’re by ourselves and a different way when we’re with friends versus family versus professors versus romantic partners. So do situations predict behavior more than personality traits?” 

Agatha surveys the classroom expectantly so you hesitantly raise your hand, wheels turning in your head trying to think of a sophisticated response. She smirks and nods at you. “I mean, I think situations obviously have some part in how we act, but it’s not like we’re completely different people based on who we’re interacting with. It could be kind of like, what traits do we use more of when we’re with some people and what traits do we use less of?” 

Her brows furrow and you can see her mulling it over. “So you’re saying that we have a bank of traits, of consistent traits, but which ones we tap into depends on who we’re with?” 

“Yes?” Your voice wavers but you hold eye contact with her. 

Agatha hums thoughtfully. “Very good. I like that.” Your cheeks flush and you duck your head, the eye contact becoming too intense. “And it brings us to an interesting thought. I want everyone to write down how you consider yourself personality-wise. And then write down some traits you’d use to describe your best friends.” 

You write some general words down for you and then for Wanda and Nat. It’s hard to sum someone’s personality up like that. Glancing around the room, you see everyone’s still working so you pick at your nails and pretend that you don’t feel Agatha staring at you. 

The compulsion grows too great in you, though, so you look at her. She doesn’t seem abashed that you caught her—if anything, she looks excited. You swallow roughly to get some moisture into your suddenly-dry mouth and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. Her eyelashes flutter, maybe just enough to be considered a wink, but then someone coughs and the moment is broken. 

Agatha clears her throat. “Take a look at what words you wrote for yourself and then compare them to the words you wrote for your friends. Chances are, there’s a good amount of overlap. Opposites attract sometimes, but it’s more often than not that we choose to surround ourselves with people that have similar personalities to us. If we do that, then our traits might be influencing the situations that we’re in, which influences our behavior. It’s a lot to think about.”

She clicks to the next slide. 

“Psychologists have found that both situations and traits influence behavior about equally after conducting some experiments that we’ll look at another time. Now,” she turns off the projection and the screen at the front of the room goes dark. Everyone looks at her. “I want to talk to you about an opportunity for next week.” 

Someone out of the corner of your eye perks up. “Extra credit?”

Agatha shoots him down with a glare. “It’s the third class of the semester, first of all. Second of all, there will be no extra credit in this course.” 

He slumps down, defeated. You think he might be the same person from the first day who was upset about only having five grades. 

“We will have a speaker on campus next Tuesday evening at six pm giving a presentation on fallacies from famous psychological experiments. I’ll be sending out more information about it, but I think it will be very interesting, especially for this class. It’s optional, but I do heavily recommend attending.” 

You raise your hand and she smiles. “What studies are they going to look at?” 

“Excellent question. The presentation will look at the Rosenthal study on expectancy effects, the Stanford Prison Experiment, among a few others, and one of my personal favorites: the study on delay of gratification.” 

“Is that the one—” a girl begins to say before Agatha interrupts her like she didn’t even hear the student. 

“Mischel and Ebbesen would call kids into a room one-by-one and tell them that they could either have a small candy bar right away, or wait some unknown amount of time for a larger candy bar. The researchers would leave the room and see what the kids would do.” Her blue eyes pierce into you and her face morphs into something almost predatory. “Is it better to get instant relief for something small, or to wait and let the anticipation build up for a better reward?” 

She prompts you with a tilt of her head and you wonder if she can see the slight sheen of sweat breaking out on your forehead. “If it’s going to be worth it to wait,” you rasp. 

Agatha licks her lips before nodding slowly and then settles back into her casual demeanor. “I mean, who doesn’t want a bigger candy bar?” she jokes and there’s a titter throughout the room. She gives you a smug smile and you face forward, cheeks burning. 

She continues talking but you’ve completely zoned out. You feel like a kid in the experiment—have something with Morgan, real but fleeting, or wait for even the possibility of Agatha? Once you’re not her student anymore, there shouldn’t be a problem. And you graduate in the spring anyway. 

But that’s if Agatha would even like you back then. 

What happens if the researcher never comes back with the big candy bar after the kid waits forever? 

She finally wraps up class, saying that she needs to rush off to a meeting and you slowly pack up your bag just in case she lingers. She may be in a hurry, but it’s nothing compared to the other students and it’s only a minute before you and her are the only ones left in the room. 

The air feels thick with electricity and tension and it’s like you’re rooted to your seat when she starts to slowly walk toward you. You can feel your heartbeat increase and your breathing quickens—your body wants to run but it can’t. 

“Great job today,” she mumbles and drums her fingertips atop your desk surface, her perfume rolling over you like a wave, and you don’t even realize that she’s gone until you hear the door shut behind you. 

You shakily stand up and swing your bag onto your shoulders and go to the library, desperately trying to ignore the heat between your legs.

After dinner, you pick up the package containing the perfume on your way back to your dorm. You’re almost afraid to open and smell it because you know your body will betray your mind. Your cunt has become conditioned to the scent—conditioned to Agatha—and you really need to figure out how to stop it. You’d throw out the bottle entirely if you hadn’t spent so much money on it. You’ll find some use for it, maybe for a party or something. 

Just as you get into your room, your phone buzzes with an email. Your heart starts to race when you see Agatha Harkness at the top of it and you quickly click on it. 

To your dismay, it’s just a course email. 

Hello Personality Psych, 

Here is the link for information concerning the speaker presentation next Tuesday evening that I mentioned in class. As a reminder, you will not receive any extra credit for attending, but it is an opportunity to learn more about flaws in renowned psychological experiments. Please email me if you are interested so I can get your name on the list. 

Best, 

Professor Harkness

You chew on your lip. It’s not something that you necessarily want to go to, and for no extra credit, it might be a waste of time. 

But you do seriously doubt that anyone else in your class is going to go, which would make you stand out to Agatha. 

You imagine walking into a room full of people you don’t know, anxiously scanning the crowd, to find her smiling at you and beckoning for you to go sit next to her. She’d lean in to whisper some remarks about the speaker into your ear and her hair would tickle your skin. Maybe you’d be bouncing your leg because of your trouble sitting still and she’d put a hand on your thigh to help you focus. 

Fuck. Your cheeks are burning now and the temptation to open the perfume so it feels like she’s there is gnawing strongly inside you. 

Instead, you compose a new email. 

Hi Professor Harkness, 

I would love to attend the presentation.

Thanks! 

You sign it off with your name and hit send before you can rethink it and then throw your phone to the end of the bed. 

The moment you press your hands to your face because you can’t believe how bad this is getting, your phone vibrates. You know what it’s going to be before you even look at it, and yet you’re still surprised to find that Agatha responded almost immediately. 

I’m very glad to hear that and I look forward to seeing you there. 

Professor Harkness. 

Only this time, instead of the regular email signature under her name, and every other professor’s name in their emails, that shows her position, the university name, and her email address, there’s something else as well. 

Ten digits. Your breath catches in her throat. 

She added her phone number. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge

[luvashli]

MORE THEN FRIENDS

Synopsis -> Heeseung has always been your best friend—but lately, the lingering touches and stolen glances feel different. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to realize he’s meant to be more.

Pairing -> best!friend!heeseung x fem!reader

Genre -> oneshot, best friends to lovers, suggestive

Status -> complete

Wc -> 3.4k

Note -> requestet by this ask :) hope you enjoy

The first time you met Heeseung, he was the quiet new kid in your fourth-grade class, staring down at his desk while nervously tapping his pencil. You had been assigned as his seat partner, and while the rest of the class chattered around him, he stayed silent.

Ever the curious one, you nudged his arm with your elbow. “Wanna trade snacks?” you asked, holding up your peanut butter sandwich.

Heeseung hesitated, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for the first time. Then, without a word, he slid his pack of strawberry Pocky across the desk. You grinned, breaking your sandwich in half and handing it to him.

And just like that, you were inseparable.

___

Middle school was a blur of shared lunch trays, inside jokes, and whispered secrets. Heeseung wasn’t as shy anymore—not with you, at least. He still liked to keep to himself, but you were the exception to that rule.

You balanced each other out. Where you were loud and impulsive, he was calm and thoughtful. Where you rushed headfirst into things, he held back and thought things through.

When the other kids teased you for being “too much,” Heeseung was always there, rolling his eyes and telling you they were just jealous. And when Heeseung got called a nerd for acing every math test, you sat beside him at lunch and loudly declared that smart people were hot anyway.

Back then, everything was simple. Heeseung was your best friend, and you were his. No questions asked. No complicated feelings.

But then came high school. And suddenly, things weren’t so simple anymore.

___

Heeseung had always thought you were pretty. Even back in middle school, when you still had braces and a habit of tripping over your own feet, he knew there was something about you that pulled people in—pulled him in. But he never really understood what that feeling meant until sophomore year.

It happened at a school dance, of all places. You had dragged him there, even though he insisted he hated school events. You’d rolled your eyes and called him a grandpa, saying, “Come on, Hee, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst, apparently, was watching you slow dance with someone else.

He hadn’t realized he was gripping his soda can so tightly until Jake nudged him. “Dude, you look like you wanna kill someone.”

Heeseung forced a laugh. “What? No. I just…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on you—on the way you laughed at something your dance partner said, on the way they spun you around like you were weightless. And that’s when it hit him.

He was in love with you.

It was a terrifying realization, one that made his stomach twist into knots. Because the moment he understood his feelings, he also understood something else—you didn’t feel the same way.

After that night, Heeseung tried to ignore his feelings. He told himself it was just a phase, just a stupid crush that would go away if he stopped thinking about it.

He dated other girls. Not many, but enough to convince himself he was over you. But it never worked, because every time something good happened, you were the first person he wanted to tell. And every time something bad happened, you were the only person who could make it better.

So, he buried his feelings. He smiled when you talked about your latest crushes, pretended it didn’t sting when you called him your platonic soulmate, and kept being the best friend you needed him to be.

Because loving you was easy. It was having you that was impossible.

___

Now, standing on the edge of adulthood, you still saw Heeseung as your constant, your safe place. But Heeseung? He had spent years pretending not to love you.

And he was starting to wonder how much longer he could keep up the act.

If someone had told Heeseung years ago that he’d still be hopelessly in love with you, he would’ve laughed it off. He had convinced himself—or at least tried to—that his feelings would fade with time. That someday, he’d wake up and you’d just be his best friend again, nothing more.

But here he was, sitting across from you in your favorite café, watching as you stirred sugar into your coffee with that same absentminded concentration you always had, and he knew—he had never stopped loving you.

“You’re staring,” you teased, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Heeseung scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “No, I’m not.”

“You totally are.” You smirked, taking a sip of your drink. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Heeseung wanted to tell you the truth—that you had his whole heart on your face, that he couldn’t look at you without wanting to memorize every little detail. But instead, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you have ‘annoying’ written all over it.”

You gasped dramatically. “Wow. Is this how you treat your best friend? Unbelievable.”

There it was. That word. Best friend.

Heeseung swallowed down the bitter taste that always followed when you said that. He knew it wasn’t your fault—you had no idea how he felt. How could you? He had spent years making sure you didn’t.

But lately, it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to keep smiling when you told him about your latest date, harder to act normal when you rested your head on his shoulder like it was the most casual thing in the world. Because to you, it was casual. But to Heeseung, every touch, every laugh, every moment with you felt like something he wasn’t allowed to have.

And it was slowly driving him insane.

“Hello? Earth to Heeseung?” Your voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized you were waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what?” He blinked.

“I was saying, do you wanna come over tonight? Movie night, just like old times.” You smiled, eyes bright with excitement.

It was an innocent offer. Just another normal night in your friendship. But to Heeseung, it was another reminder of how much he wanted but could never have.

Still, he nodded, forcing a grin. “Yeah, sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Because no matter how much it hurt, being close to you—even as just a friend—was better than not having you at all.

___

Movie nights with Heeseung were nothing new. They had been a tradition since high school—just the two of you, a ridiculous amount of snacks, and an unspoken rule that you had to rewatch at least one childhood favorite before the night was over.

But tonight felt… different.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the way Heeseung seemed quieter than usual, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long when he thought you weren’t looking. Or maybe it was the way your heart kept skipping beats whenever his knee brushed against yours on the couch.

You shook the thought away, grabbing a handful of popcorn. It’s just Heeseung. Your best friend. Stop being weird.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, flipping through the streaming options.

Heeseung shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “You pick.”

“You always say that.”

“And yet, you always pick something terrible.” He smirked, reaching over to steal some of your popcorn.

You gasped, smacking his hand away. “Excuse you! I have excellent taste.”

He snorted. “Sure, if excellent taste means forcing me to sit through three-hour-long romance movies where nothing happens except people staring at each other.”

“You like those movies, don’t lie.”

“I like suffering through them for you—big difference,” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spread just a little. Heeseung always did that—acted like he was just tolerating the things you loved, when in reality, he indulged you more than anyone ever had.

You ended up picking a random movie, something lighthearted, but halfway through, you barely paid attention. Your focus kept drifting to Heeseung—his stupidly perfect side profile, the way his lips parted slightly when he was concentrating, the little crease in his brow when something in the movie confused him.

It wasn’t like you had never noticed before. You had eyes, after all. But tonight, it was like your brain refused to brush it off as nothing.

You shifted slightly, only to realize just how close the two of you were sitting. At some point, Heeseung had draped his arm across the back of the couch, and without thinking, you had leaned into his side. It wasn’t unusual. You’d done this a hundred times before.

So why did it feel like your whole body was hyper-aware of him?

A scene in the movie made you laugh, and without thinking, you turned to share the moment with him—only to find him already looking at you.

Your breath hitched.

He didn’t look away.

For a second, neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the muffled dialogue from the movie, but everything else faded into the background. His gaze flickered down—to your lips, just for a split second—before returning to your eyes.

And suddenly, you knew.

You knew what had been different about tonight. You knew why your heart was racing, why his touches felt electric, why the way he looked at you sent heat rushing through your veins.

Because for the first time, you were seeing Heeseung in a way you had never let yourself before.

And maybe—just maybe—you were falling for your best friend.

Your heart pounded as you stared at Heeseung, the glow of the TV flickering against his face. He wasn’t looking away.

He always looked at you—watching, waiting, as if he had something to say but never quite found the words. But tonight, for the first time, you weren’t oblivious to it. You weren’t brushing off the way his eyes lingered, the way his fingers twitched against his thigh like he wanted to reach for you but held himself back.

And maybe, for the first time, you didn’t want him to hold back.

You swallowed, trying to play it off. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Heeseung’s jaw clenched slightly, and his voice came out lower than usual. "You’re the one staring first."

You weren’t. Or maybe you were. It didn’t matter.

The tension between you felt thick, heavy, like a rubber band stretched too tight, on the verge of snapping.

And then it did.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, Heeseung’s lips were on yours, crashing into you like he had been waiting for this moment forever. Maybe he had. Maybe you had, too, without realizing it.

A small gasp left your lips, but Heeseung didn’t hesitate—his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him like you had been made to fit there.

The movie long forgotten, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing between kisses, the quiet sighs you couldn’t hold back as Heeseung deepened the kiss. His hands roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your thigh as he pulled you onto his lap.

You should’ve felt nervous. This was Heeseung, your best friend. The one who had always been by your side, the one you told everything to. But right now, nothing about this felt wrong. If anything, it felt like something that had been waiting to happen.

His lips trailed down, grazing the corner of your jaw, your neck—hot and unhurried, like he wanted to take his time memorizing every inch of you.

"Hee," you breathed, hands tangling in his hair.

His grip on you tightened, and a low groan rumbled from his chest, sending shivers down your spine. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured against your skin.

The confession made your stomach flip. Because if he had wanted this for a long time… why did it take you so long to see it?

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. They were darker than usual, filled with something raw, something unspoken.

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" you whispered.

Heeseung exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Because I was scared you’d never look at me the way I look at you."

Your heart clenched. How had you been so blind?

You cupped his face, your thumb tracing over his cheekbone. "I’m looking at you now."

And then, you kissed him again—slow, deep, like you were making up for all the lost time.

This wasn’t just a kiss. It was years of unsaid words, years of stolen glances, years of Heeseung loving you in silence.

And finally, finally, you were listening.

Heeseung’s lips moved against yours like he had been waiting forever—slow at first, savoring every second, but growing more desperate with each passing moment. His fingers dug into your waist as if he was afraid you might slip away, but there was no chance of that happening. Not anymore.

You were completely, hopelessly lost in him.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and Heeseung let out a quiet groan against your lips. The sound sent heat rushing through you, making your whole body feel like it was on fire.

He pulled you even closer—if that was even possible—until there was no space left between you. His hands roamed, one gripping your thigh, the other sliding up your back, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

When he kissed you again, it was different—deeper, rougher, like he had finally let go of whatever restraint he’d been holding onto.

And you wanted more.

You shifted slightly in his lap, your fingers tracing down his jaw, his neck, the sharp lines of his collarbone. Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his hands tightening around you.

"Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost pleading.

It sent a shiver down your spine. You had never heard him sound like that before.

You leaned in, lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. "What is it?" you teased softly, barely above a whisper.

Heeseung let out a shaky laugh, tilting his head back against the couch. "You’re actually going to kill me."

You grinned, feeling a rush of confidence. "Oh? Am I?"

His hands squeezed your hips, grounding himself. "You have no idea."

The air between you was thick, charged with something neither of you had dared to acknowledge before tonight. But now that the line had been crossed, there was no going back.

You stared at him—his swollen lips, the way his chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breathing. Heeseung had always been beautiful, but right now? Right now, he looked absolutely wrecked.

Because of you.

Something about that realization made your heart pound even harder.

Slowly, you traced your fingers over his jaw, your touch featherlight. "Then maybe you should do something about it," you murmured.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened.

And in the next second, he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a smirk that sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for," he murmured, his voice lower now, sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie. "Show me."

Heeseung groaned softly before capturing your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as he deepened the kiss.

And this time, neither of you held back.

___

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was warmth.

You were tangled in Heeseung—his arm draped over your waist, his face buried in your hair, his steady breathing fanning across your skin. The soft glow of early morning filtered through your curtains, casting everything in golden light.

And then it hit you.

Last night. The kisses, the way he touched you like he had been waiting forever, the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Your heart clenched.

What happens now?

You shifted slightly, and Heeseung groaned in protest, tightening his hold on you.

“Mm, don’t move,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at how soft he sounded. “Heeseung, we have to get up.”

“No, we don’t.” He buried his face deeper into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. “Five more minutes.”

You hesitated, staring at the ceiling. What were you supposed to say? Did last night change everything? Were you still just… friends? Did he regret it?

Heeseung must’ve felt the tension in your body because he finally lifted his head, his eyes barely open, but still filled with something softer when they met yours.

“You’re overthinking,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “I just… what does this mean?”

Heeseung blinked at you sleepily before a small smirk played at his lips. “You want me to confess again, don’t you?”

Your face heated. “That’s not—”

He cut you off by leaning in, brushing a slow, lazy kiss against your lips. It was barely a kiss at all, just a soft press of his mouth against yours, but it made your whole body melt.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered. “I think I always have.”

Your breath hitched.

It was one thing to realize your feelings, to feel them creeping up on you like a slow-burning flame. But hearing him say it—knowing that he had felt this way for so long—made your chest ache.

“I…” You hesitated, but only for a second. Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

You cupped his face, running your thumb along his cheek. “I love you too, Hee.”

Heeseung let out a small, relieved laugh before kissing you again—slow and sweet, like he was savoring every second.

And this time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing.

Just you and him, exactly where you were always meant to be.

Heeseung kissed you again, slow and deliberate, as if making sure you weren’t just a dream. His hands rested gently on your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against your skin, grounding himself in the moment.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice still thick with sleep.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “Waking up late?”

“No.” He pressed another lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Waking up with you.”

Your heart did an embarrassing little flip. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you.” His smirk was lazy, teasing, but his eyes held nothing but warmth.

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was—you liked this side of him. The Heeseung who was completely unfiltered, who didn’t hold back anymore. And maybe, deep down, you always had.

A comfortable silence settled between you as Heeseung shifted, pulling you impossibly closer until your head was resting against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and the warmth of his skin against yours made you wish you could stay here forever.

But reality was waiting.

Eventually, you sighed. “We really should get up.”

“No, we really shouldn’t.”

“Heeseung.”

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone, grinning when you shot him a glare.

You tried to move, but he tightened his arms around you, effortlessly keeping you trapped against him. “Nope,” he said, voice muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder. “You’re staying right here.”

You huffed, but your resolve was crumbling. He was too warm. Too comfortable. And if you were being honest… you didn’t really want to move either.

“Fine,” you relented, nuzzling closer. “But only for five more minutes.”

Heeseung chuckled, his lips brushing against your temple. “You say that now.”

And, of course, five minutes turned into ten.

Then twenty.

And before you knew it, the two of you were still tangled together, lost in quiet laughter, whispered confessions, and soft, lingering touches.

Because for the first time, there was no rush. No reason to pretend.

For the first time, you weren’t just best friends anymore.

You were his. And he was yours.

Masterlist

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@luvleyylina @crimson-reaper576 @d-dilemma @laylasbunbunny @luv-rizzimura @hoonkishoe @gyuyoungg @strxwbloody @tender-is-the-moon @imlonelydontsendhelp

[digi-diareis]

Teen MC snapping at Caleb

Context: Yk how when you're teenagers, guys think the only way to flirt with the person they like is by teasing them? Well, imagine if Caleb had an era like this until it went too far and mc finally snapped at him.

Beware: this is gonna be SO BAD. im not a writer at all and english isn't my first language either. its just that i've had this scenario in my head for a few days now and i needed it out of my system. Also, I decided to use they/them pronouns for mc. So its more inclusive that way and also bcs even I personally don't always refer to my mc as she/her. So yeah, for the bitches, bros and non binary hoes.

Imagine this, Caleb and you bantering like usual on your way home but you're having an off day which makes it easier for you to get pissed off and fed up with all the teasing. Unfortunately, Caleb doesn't notice this and keeps teasing you until you just snap.

So mc, exasperated, scoffs at him and turns around to leave with their arms folded across their chest and eyebrows scrunched so hard they almost look like a unibrow.

"I'm done talking you. Go find someone else to pick on, Caleb. I'm not in the mood."

Sensing the sudden shift of mood, Caleb is speechless for a bit and left floundering, looking for the right words to say. He thought this was just your usual banter so why were you suddenly taking the jokes seriously? Hell, he can't let you stay in a bad mood for the entire day because that means he's getting the silent treatment and he'd rather die (well not really but he almost feels like it) than have you completely ignore his entire existence. Again.

He approaches you slowly, using a gentle voice to not alarm you the same way one would with a hissing kitten.

"Pipsqueak? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry... Tell me what it was and I promise I won't say it again. Don't be mad anymore, we don't want you to develop any more wrinkles, do we?"

And oh, the way you stiffened up, very much reminiscent of a stray cat on full alarm against anybody trying to steal its food. Caleb gulps, knowing somewhere along the lines, he triggered a tripwire and a bomb's about to blow.

"Uhm! You know what, nevermind me! How about we go buy your favorite snack? Oh, what a coincidence your favorite stall is right around the corner-"

You turn around with a glare that makes him immediately shut up, looking like you're about to rip him a new one.

"WRINKLES?! First, you make fun of my height. Calling me pipsqueak around everyone and never shutting your damn mouth about how not a day has passed where I was taller than you. Then you start being weirdly aggressive towards my other guy friends, which by the way, what the fuck? Now most of them won't even talk to me anymore! What is your problem?! And now, you're calling me OLD and UGLY?!"

"I-I never said -"

"Shut your damn mouth and listen to me, Caleb! You have been getting on my nerves lately! I've been trying to convince myself that this is all just friendly banter but sometimes, you go too far that I don't even know if I can still laugh it off! We used to be best friends but now, its so easy for you to make fun of me. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this but oh my god, if you hate me this much then just stop hanging around me!"

Mc is heaving by the end of their entire speech, extremely worked up and upset that they're red in the face. They had been bottling this up for the past few weeks so letting it out almost felt cathartic.

Caleb is stuck in place, throat dry and mouth open but words won't come out. Was that how it's been like for you? Had he taken the jokes too far recently? Maybe it was wrong to listen to the other guys in his class who said that teens tend to fall for guys who act terrible, the bad boy stereotype is popular nowadays.

He looks down, feeling guilty and pathetic that he ended up making you feel like you hated him when you were the person who embodied everything he loved. You made him feel like flying and falling, all at the same time. So how could he hurt you like this? He had to make things right before it was too late.

"I'm sorry. Its all my fault. I shouldn't have said all those hurtful things to you, even if it was a joke or not. At the end of the day, they hurt you and that's not right. Please believe me when I say that I could never hate being around you. That couldn't be more wrong, not when all I ever want to do is be by your side. So please don't tell me to stop hanging around you, just thinking about it feels like my chest is being squeezed that it hurts. I promise I won't make the same mistakes again, so please forgive me?"

He's nervous, fiddling with his hands while he looks you in the eye. He reminds you of a wet puppy under the rain, begging you to bring him home with you. You knew the moment he pulled those puppy dog eyes that you would eventually lose, you could never say no to him. Not when you were kids and not now.

You sigh, shoulders slumping and the frown gone from your face. Now you just look tired, which only makes him more worried, maybe you're tired of him? No, that can't be. What would happen to him if you decide he's not worth keeping around anymore? He just might stop functioning all together.

You turn your back and start walking home, he feels his heart drop thinking this is it. You're leaving him behind– that is until you turn your head to the side, side eyeing him with a blush on your face.

"What're you standing there for, I thought you were going to buy me my favorite snack? Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not forgiving you just yet. Not until I've had my fill."

After that day, Caleb completely changes. Or maybe its more accurate to say he reverted back to how he used to be when you guys were kids. Doting, attentive and extremely supportive. He still banters with you from time to time but he never goes out of his way to start one. Although, there is one thing that doesn't change and that's how over protective he still is, he's still acting like a guard dog and being threatening towards all the guys in your class but at this point, you're just happy to have your best friend back again.

And just like that, Caleb's popularity spikes in your class because suddenly, every girl wants a guy who comes at their beck and call and attends to their needs. No more bad boy persona for them, they just want someone who worships the ground they walk on the same way Caleb does for you.

[vbecker10]

What Were You Going to Ask Me?

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Sam & Steve push Bucky to ask you out on a date but every time he tries to ask you, something or someone interrupts him. After several failed attempts to find out what Bucky needs to ask you, he acts as if he forgot his question when he mistakenly thinks you have a daughter and husband.

Sam rolls his eyes as he turns on the lights in the empty gym, "Okay seriously Buck, I'm tired of hearing about Y/N. Can you give it a rest for like ten minutes?"

"Why? What's wrong with Y/N?" Bucky asks defensively, following Sam over to the boxing area.

"Nothin'..." he explains with a sigh. "But you haven't stopped talking about her for a solid week."

"I don't talk about her that much," Bucky argues, folding his arms across his chest as he drops his gym bag at his feet.

"It's literally all the damn time," Sam insists. "I mean come on, I know how Y/N takes her coffee and her favorite pizza place-"

"It's good pizza," Bucky interrupts.

"That's not even close to my point," Sam opens his bag and digs around for what he needs.

"I hate to say it but Sam's right," Steve joins the conversation finally, putting his gym bag down at the end of a row of punching bags.

"Really man?" Sam asks as he takes offense to Steve's comment. "I'm right pretty often."

"Yeah, like when?" Bucky counters with a smirk.

"Stop it, we're getting off topic," Steve says in his Captain America tone before Sam can start an argument with Bucky. "Look Buck, we both know you like Y/N, it's painfully obvious."

Bucky kneels down and unzips his gym bag, pulling out a long wrap for his hand. Keeping his head down, he ignores Steve who continues to talk with Sam. He really thought he was hiding his growing feelings for you better than this. If his friends noticed, were you able to tell too? Maybe you did know and you didn't feel the same and that's why you never brought it up.

"Dude really?" Sam stands over the super soldier and finally gets his attention.

"What?" Bucky looks up then stands slowly.

"Would you please just ask her out already?" Sam asks desperately.

Before Bucky can explain all the reasons why that's a bad idea, his oldest friend puts his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly and looks him straight in the eyes. "If you don't ask her by the end of the day, I'm doing it for you," Steve says. "You're driving me nuts Bucky."

After training, Bucky goes back to his apartment to shower then heads straight for your office before he loses his nerve or worse... Steve makes good on his threat. He knocks on the door and waits anxiously on the other side.

You sigh, looking up from your screen as you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes tightly. You had spent the last two hours training the new SHIELD intern but you have a feeling he didn't retain a single thing you told him. That better not be Josh with more questions already, you think.

"Come in," you call with as little annoyance in your voice as possible. Picking up your cup, you finish your second lukewarm coffee of the day as the door opens. "Oh, hi Bucky," you say cheerfully as soon as you see the super soldier walk into your office. He smiles at you and you immediately forget how aggravated you had been only seconds ago.

"Hey Y/N," he smiles back as he closes the door, his nervousness easing slightly by how excited you are to see him. He takes a seat across from you, his eyes leaving yours momentarily to take in the tall stack of case files and two empty coffee cups. "Busy day?"

"Always is," you shrug and you notice his smile fade slightly which is the last thing you want. You can't explain how much you love to see him happy, it gives you butterflies anytime he smiles, especially when you are the one who caused it to happen. "I always have time for you though. What can I help you with?" you ask. "I didn't think you had any up coming missions, did I miss one?"

"Uh, no. I actually have a question for you," Bucky replies. He shifts on the chair and runs his metal fingers through his hair.

"Oh, okay. What's-" you start to ask what he needs but your attention is pulled away from Bucky to your phone ringing. You groan when you see who it is, "Sorry, I need to get this, it's Agent Hill."

He nods and gets up to leave. "It'll just take a second, you can stay," you tell him but he's already out the door.

At lunch you decide to go looking for Bucky, still curious about what he wanted to ask you. You head up to the Avengers living quarters and make your way to the kitchen. He's standing with his back to you as he digs through the fridge for something to eat, when he turns and sees you behind him a smile spreads across his face.

"Hey," he says, carrying the ingredients for a sandwich over to the island.

"Hi again," you smile back and walk closer to him. "I was hoping I'd find you here." That was only a little lie, you knew you would find him here. Bucky always eats lunch in the kitchen unless he's on a mission or stuck in meetings.

"You were looking for me?" he asks as he assembles his lunch.

"Yeah, I was wondering what you wanted to ask me before," you explain.

"Oh, umm..." his cheeks redden and you can't help but wonder if he's blushing or if you're seeing things. "Well I was wondering if-"

Tony walks in and Bucky's mouth clamps shut tightly which only makes you more curious. "Hey," Tony greets you both as he makes his way to the fridge to grab a drink.

"Hi," you respond but keep your eyes on Bucky who suddenly seems overly focused on his lunch. He gathers the remaining ingredients and quickly puts them away. "Oh, did you still need to talk?" you ask Bucky, hoping he won't leave yet.

"Yeah, maybe later. I'll come by your office in a bit," he says without looking at you as he walks past Tony and heads towards his apartment with his plate.

"So that was weird even for him," Tony says when you two are alone.

"It was right?" you ask. You're tempted to follow him but before you can leave the kitchen your phone alerts you that you have a meeting starting in fifteen minutes. With a sigh, you head back to your office.

Two hours later, you've completely given up on the idea that Bucky will come visit your office and finally ask you his question. The fact that he didn't want to talk about it when Tony was there just makes you even more curious. It obviously doesn't have anything to do with work so what the heck is it?

You bite your lip and just as your mind begins to wander, your phone vibrates. The initial disappointment you feel when the call isn't from Bucky vanishes when you hear your sisters voice on the other end of the line.

You check your watch to make sure you're not late while the coffee maker works on your third cup of the day. You need to be down in the lobby in the next ten minutes or so.

"Hi Y/N," Bucky's voice fills the previously empty kitchen.

"Oh, hey," you give a small wave and your smile brightens when you see him, Steve and Sam. "I've got a few minutes until I need to do something, can we talk about whatever your question was?"

"You didn't ask yet?" Sam looks at Bucky as you reach for the sugar in the cabinet above you. Your back is turned to the trio so you miss the disappointed look Steve gives his friend but not the sound of Bucky smacking Sam's shoulder to quiet him.

You laugh, "I've been trying all day to find out what the heck he needs to ask me."

"Yeah, about that-" Bucky starts, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

Your phone vibrates and you take it out to check the new message. "Sorry Bucky, I need to head to the lobby," you interrupt him.

"Right," he nods. "I'll uh... I'll ask you later."

"Come with me," you tell him. "You can ask me on the way. I'm dying of curiosity here."

He laughs nervously, "Yeah, sure." Steve pats his back hard as he walks past his friends and follows you.

The elevator is crowded with people leaving to go home for the day and you frown knowing Bucky won't even give you a hint as to what his question is. On a more positive note, the cramped elevator means your back is pressed against his chest for the duration of the ride down. This is as close to the super soldier as you've ever been, you've thought about giving him a hug once or twice before but you always held back.

Bucky closes his eyes, keeping his hands in his pockets to ensure he doesn't reach out without thinking to hold you tighter to his body. His mind wanders briefly as he wonders if you'd let out that adorable giggle of yours if he kissed your cheek or put his arms around you.

When the elevator reaches the lobby, you hear what sounds like Bucky sighing in relief behind you. You bite your lip at his reaction and take as big of a step away from him as you can while you wait for everyone else to get out.

Bucky follows you, curious about who you are meeting since he had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he forgot to ask. Maybe one of your friends? Hopefully not a boyfriend, you hadn't mentioned one but there was a lot he still didn't know about you. He stops walking and his heart sinks when a little girl runs over to you, hugging you tightly as you kneel down to greet her. You stand up, holding the child then walk a few steps closer to a man Bucky fears is your husband as he's obviously the girls father. He hands you a small backpack and kisses the little girls head which makes her giggle. The sound reminds Bucky of you and he does his best not to let his emotions show on his face as he watches you.

"Say bye to daddy," you tell the girl and she waves as he leaves through the front doors. You turn back to Bucky with a smile. "Ready to go back up?"

He doesn't answer, his mind swimming. He thought for sure you were flirting with him but maybe you were just being nice. Had he read the whole situation completely wrong?

"Bucky?" you ask to get his attention.

"Bucky," the girl repeats and giggles.

"Yes, that's Bucky," you put her backpack over your shoulder and wave at him. The little girl copies you.

Bucky wiggles his metal fingers as he waves back which you find far too adorable. His bright smile returns and he pushes the button for the elevator as he takes the pink unicorn bag from you. "Hi there, what's your name?" he asks.

"Lucy," she answers with a wide smile, showing off a missing front tooth.

"It's nice to meet you Lucy," Bucky tells her as you follow him onto the elevator.

"Okay, so what did you want to ask me?" you ask and laugh a little. "Sorry we keep getting distracted."

"Oh, I forgot what it was," he shrugs. "I guess it wasn't important."

"Seriously?" you ask not believing him. "All day I've been trying to figure out it and that's all I get?"

"Sorry," he responds, his eyes focus on the elevator buttons and he remains quiet until you reach the common floor.

"Oh my goodness, who is this?" Nat smiles when the three of you enter the kitchen. Sam and Steve sit across from her, their discussion about what to order for dinner coming to an abrupt end.

Lucy bites her lip, looking at all the new faces and turns in your arms, hiding herself against your shoulder. "Aww, are you feeling shy?" you say to her gently.

She nods and Bucky rubs her back slowly which takes you by surprise. Lucy looks up at him and he smirks, "Don't be shy, everyone's so excited to meet you. Want to show them your missing tooth?"

She giggles excitedly and smiles wide as she faces your friends, pointing to the little hole between her teeth.

"Wow," Sam says. "You get a dollar from the tooth fairy?"

Lucky nods quickly as you set her down now that she seems more relaxed.

"Y/N, she looks just like you," Nat states, looking from you to Lucy.

"Right?" you laugh. "I always thought that was funny cause my sister and I don't really look alike."

"My brother-in-law got called into work early and my sister got stuck in a late meeting so I told them I could watch her for a few hours," you explain.

Bucky nearly drops the backpack when he goes to place it on the island and the sudden slip doesn't go unnoticed by the spy or his friends. You, however, don't notice as your preoccupied watching Lucy wander over to Bucky.

"Wait, so she's not your daughter?" Steve asks, his tone a mix of confusion and surprise.

You laugh again, "What? No, I'm on aunt duty tonight." Looking around, you see Bucky's mouth hanging open and Sam shrugging at Steve. "Wait, did you guys really think I had a daughter I forget to tell you about?"

"No, of course not," Steve says quickly.

"Absolutely not," Sam says at the same time.

Bucky remains quiet but you see the smile return to his face and wonder if that's why he had been so awkward in the elevator. "The three of you are idiots," Nat shakes her head, voicing your thoughts perfectly.

"Well yeah, but I just thought..." Bucky's thought trails off when Lucy grabs onto his pants leg and tugs to get his attention. "Hi," he smiles down at her.

She giggles up at him and reaches her arms up, "Bucky."

"I don't mind," he smiles as he sways a bit back and forth. "I think someone is tired."

"You tired of me already?" you pretend to pout but it doesn't get her attention, she continues to smile up at him and he kneels down to be at eye level. "Oh I get it, you just want to tall, handsome, soldier to hold you?" You blush when you realize you said that last part outloud and you can tell by Nat's expression and the way Bucky's head snaps in your direction that they all heard it.

Bucky gently lifts her up with his right arm and she cuddles against his chest. "You don't have to..." you tell him.

"Are you ever going to tell me what you wanted to ask me?" you look up at him as the elevator doors close, leaving you alone and him with no way to escape the question that's been following you around all day.

"I-" you try to process a question that wasn't anywhere on your list of possible topics. He bites his lip as he watches your brain slowly catchup. "Yes! Yeah, yes I'd love to," you giggle and notice his smile returning but then yours fades. "Ooh no... I can't, I'm sorry."

"Now seems as good a time as any," he says with a nervous smile. He clears his throat, "I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date this Friday?"

"What? No, I mean, yes I still really want to but just not this Friday. I promised I'd watch Lucy so my sister and her husband could go to a wedding," you explain quickly before he thinks you aren't interested in him.

His smile disappears completely, "It's okay, I'm sorry. I knew I shouldn't have asked."

He nods, putting his hands in his pockets. "Maybe next weekend?" he suggests with a shrug almost as if he's not sure he believes you.

"Or you could come over and help Friday?" you counter and he looks at you curiously. "Please? She already loves you and I get really bored after I put her to bed. I really want to spend more time with you. We could watch a movie or something."

"Sure," Bucky relaxes and you grin happily. "You think your sister will be okay if I come over?"

"I don't think she's going to mind an Avenger watching over her kid while she's out," you tell him.

"Fair point," he takes a step closer to you as the doors open. "Its not quite a date, but I'm looking forward to it."

"Bucky!" Lucy screams excitedly when your sister opens the door and sees you with the super soldier.

"Wow, I'm forgotten about already," you say trying to sound overly hurt when you close the front door.

"She's been talking about him coming over since you called," Rachel laughs and gives you a hug as Bucky picks up your niece.

"Can we braid your hair?" the little girl asks with a smile as she pulls his hair gently.

"Maybe," he says with a smile that very obviously means yes.

"Glitter?" Bucky repeats nervously and you giggle with your sister as she puts on her coat.

"Oh and decorate your arm?" she asks as she reaches to play with his metal fingers.

"You going to make his arm pretty?" you joke with your niece who takes your question very seriously.

She nods, "Glitter."

"No glitter," your brother-in-law thankfully steps into the conversation. "Be good for aunt Y/N and Bucky okay sweetheart? We'll be home before you wake up."

She nods quickly, "I'll be good daddy." Bucky sets her back down so she can hug both her parents goodbye.

He leans over to whisper to you, "If I see one piece of glitter, I'm picking the movie and what we're doing on our date tomorrow."

"That was the worst threat ever," you smile back at him as the front door closes. "So, where's the glitter Lucy?"

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[avelera]

(Writing Advice) Tips for Writing Dialogue

I would never, ever give unsolicited critique on a fic and I would never, ever out a fic I'm reading as being the one I want to critique.

But it gets so much harder when the edits I want to offer are really simple ones. Like, when I know where the author stands in their growth and I can see so clearly what their next step would be and I just aoiruoairoiariowaurwouARGH want to point out one little concept that will elevate their story by lightyears but since I do not know this person I don't dare because you never know what advice is going to be absolutely crushing to someone and entirely unwanted.

SO, before I explode, I want to give the advice I would offer.

This is specifically for people who find themselves writing really long paragraphs of dialogue between two characters that feel sort of unnatural when read aloud. Dialogue that is very "on the nose" ie, characters say what they mean and they say EVERYTHING they mean in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. It's open, clear communication to a fault and sounds very unnatural as a result.

The thing is, I don't want to tell people not to do that. Actually, writing out EVERYTHING the character could say is a GREAT first step! But the second draft should involve whittling down all of that into the most powerful or gripping parts of that paragraph. And I want to discuss how:

(Note, sometimes that is the pleasure of the genre that the author is going for! Sometimes in fic, the canon characters are so bad at communicating that it can be pleasurable just to write them fucking talking to each other for once.)

But, if your goal is to eventually write more naturalistic dialogue and also dialogue with a bit more tension and momentum to it that really pulls the reader along and makes them feel immersed in the world, you should keep in mind that most people don't say everything they mean in conversation. Even when people are being carefully, deliberately, perhaps even drunkenly entirely open with each other, they often speak in fragments or need to backtrack to clarify a point.

However, most people don't say everything they're thinking, especially if it's very vulnerable, because of things like fear of rejection, or pride, or even because they have their own goals that might be disrupted if the other person knew everything. Sometimes, there just isn't time for a big sit-down where all the feelings come out!

However, this isn't about small-talk, which is a bit more self-evident that it shouldn't be paragraphs long for every exchange. Fiction tends to thrive in momentous moments, moments that tend to be a bit rare in real life but that stick out in our minds forever.

For example, fiction revolves around couples realizing their feelings for each other far more often than any one person would experience that moment in their life. So in fiction we heighten and elevate these really powerful moments and we love exploring them as readers.

SO, when I'm stuck on ALLL the things characters could say to each other in a really charged moment, but I'm not sure what the best thing would be, I don't hold myself back. I just let it all out. I open a pair of brackets and say:

Bill says, [I love you. I don't know how to say it because I'm 20 years old and scared and I've never been in a relationship before, but I do. You've been my best friend my whole life. I think you're the most beautiful and amazing person I've ever met. If you reject me, it would destroy me. But losing you as a friend would destroy me even worse. So I feel like I have to play it cool for a variety of societal pressure reasons but also to protect my heart and my pride. I want to open the door a bit, I want to hint that I like you, but I don't want to risk it if I overstep. I'm not ready to take the leap yet if there's even the slightest chance it won't work. Maybe we could try getting coffee?]

Then I'll go back through and bold the lines that are most powerful to me, the ones I really want to keep, as seen above. Then I mull over that for a bit and try to put it into more naturalistic speech. Something like,

Bill says, "Yeah, well... you're pretty cool too, I guess. Maybe we could grab coffee sometime. Try that new place that just opened."

^^^ Obviously this isn't award winning dialogue but what I would hope to capture with it is a young, insecure person who is leaving a lot of openings for plausible deniability, who isn't overcommitting to a love confession that could get their heart stomped on but is tentatively advancing a compliment and a desire to spend more time together at a plausible location for either a date or just friends hanging out.

The rest of what's deleted from the paragraph is now a secret that they're trying to hide. And secrets tend to be very powerful in fiction and performance. It makes the audience mentally engage with what they think is hidden behind those words. It leaves space too for more conversations between the characters.

Maybe over coffee a bit more of that entire paragraph comes out, which pulls the reader along through the story. Maybe each time they hang out, a little more comes out after that, because most people don't give their love confessions in one huge block the minute they realize they have feelings. And the anticipation of getting to the moment where the whole hidden paragraph is revealed also pulls the reader along and makes them excited (hopefully) for that moment. It makes them keep reading your story to reach that moment.

Anyway, TL;DR: writing out a whole paragraph of everything your character is thinking for each line of dialogue, everything they could possibly say, is GREAT for the first draft! You don't want to lose a potentially juicy and powerful line just because you edited yourself too soon.

But in the SECOND draft, before you publish, dialogue gets a lot more powerful and compelling if you whittle it down to be more naturalistic, to hold a bit back, to allow a bit of mystery, especially with big emotions and confessions that would be hard or scary for a person to reveal, that might encompass the actual plot or subplot of your story (for example, getting to a love confession could be the plot or subplot of a slowburn romance, so you want to sort of piece that build-up out and not just dump a whole confession on the first page, unless that IS your goal!).

Trimming down a huge paragraph to one line of dialogue also makes for snappier, more dynamic dialogue overall, even if the content isn't as emotionally charged as a one-in-a-lifetime love confession.