#so again. really a standstill. why pit these two white men against each

[allgremlinart]

"superman is overrated" "no batman is overrated" they both are. and with your help, we can finally kill them ! by signing up for just a small monthly donation to me, Lex Luthor,

[knk-sun-moon-star]

Mine || Minho

Written By: Admin Chen

Paring: Minho x Reader

Requested By: for a sweet ass anon

Request: Is it possible if you do something similar to the Felix Lies scenario but for Minho, because the kissing scene stole my heart and shot it right through the sky :(

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Okay, so truthfully, I did write it completely different to Lies just because I didn’t want to have, what could be considered, two of the same scenarios on my blog but I also have to say, that it is verging on the more suggestive side of what I did consider my pg13+ blog, so read at your own risk... do I have to change the blog rating just because of this post?

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You stand on the opposite side of the front door to your best friends dorm, your wet clothes binding to your skin like cling wrap. When the door finally opens, you sweep a strand of damp hair off your forehead whilst offering Minho your best ‘hey-I-know-I-came-over-unannounced-but-please-let-me-in’ smile. However, all you got in return is an unimpressed, deadpanned expression.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he gives your drenched rat-like appearance a once over as a look of disdain sets in over his features. “It’s pouring, you’re… drenched and do you even know what time it is?”

“Well hello to you too.” you push past the slightly taller male as he shuts the door, turn on the balls of his feet to follow after you.

“You didn’t answer my question Y/N. Why are you here at this time?”.

“Can’t you see?” You twist slightly with a knowingly obvious expression before turning back around and walking into their kitchen. Once you are standing in front of the bench, you drop the snacks in your hands. “I bought snacks and you have movies. Can you figure out the rest?”

“This isn’t the time to be joking around. You could get really sick or what if you slipped on the way and injured yourself or a car skidded off the road because of the rain, Y/N?” he follows you through to the kitchen, not taking a single spare breath as he gives you a lecture on all possible outcomes and his worry starting to make his rant sound erratic. “What is someone saw you walking alone, you’re a girl and most men think girls are easy targets. You could’ve been kidnapped or murdered. These are all things you have to think about especially since it’s so late”

“Why are you getting so worked up about this? It’s not like you’re my brother.” you retort in the hopes that he’d stop with the lecture as you take a large bowl you’ve found from the cupboard next to the sink before turning around to face him.

“No but I am your best friend, so why wouldn’t I care?” you look away, the feeling of defeat swells in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m sorry but I wasn’t hurt Minho.” You look back and make you way over to him. “I’m safe and right next to you, nothing is going to happen to me tonight.” Your features softening with reassurance as you place a comforting hand on his arm.

“God, your hands are so cold.” he encases your hand within his, your breath hitches before your lips twist into a smile at the sudden contact that radiates from the warmth spreading through your enclosed hands and a blush instantly dusts across your cheeks as he dragging you behind him to the direction of the bedrooms. When you walk over the threshold of his room, he drops your hand from his and your stomach drops in pity as you silently watch him rummages around his room for something. He suddenly turns around and quickly walks to his bed, grasping hold of something dark grey before swiftly turning to face you. He comes to a sharp stop before you as he gently drops something soft over you hair, rubbing back and forth.

“Dry yourself and get changed into the clean clothes okay.” You cheeks deepen to a more vibrant red as he hands you a shirt and a pair of sweatpants [a/n: so close to writing tracky dacks and then I realised that nowhere else in the world knows what they are] before he places his hands on your shoulders, turning you around and pushing you out his room. You turn slightly to look at him to see him silently communicating for you to get a move on. You look down to the ground as you make you way to the bathroom with a small smile playing on your lips as you remember the way he holds your hand.

.

.

.

You exit the bathroom only to be greeted by the sweet buttery aroma of warm popcorn. You look up and around before you eyes settle on Chans’ figure leaning on the wall opposite you.

“Your face in the kitchen was a sight to behold.” He pushed himself off the wall, slowly pacing his way over to you before he comes to a standstill next to you. He gently places his hand on his shoulder, slightly lowering himself to your height and the feeling of his warm breath wisps across your ear causes a light blush to coat your cheeks. “Too bad Minho is too dense to see the hold he has on you.”

You shriek away from his hold, alarm written all over your features as you turn to make sure no one witnessed what just happened or the secret Chan let slip into the world, which causes The older boy to let out a low laugh at your actions.

“Sh- shut up Chan!” You stutter due to embarrassment as your hand collides with his upper arm in a gentle slap which only cause him to laugh even more.

“You’re not denying it though” His laugh dies down as his sly words cause your blush to deepen and his contagious smile causing a smile to lace your own mouth. “I can help you, you know.”

“There’s nothing you can do that I haven’t already tried.” Your smile falters as you look away from his face, disappointment settling into the pit of your stomach. You eyes widen as you see Minho standing at the end of the hallway, silently staring at the two of you and you know it was due to the look of surprise that is most likely lacing your features, is what made Chan turn his head slightly too see the way Minho’s expression hardens into an unknowing glare.

Just as you take a step towards your best friend, Chan grasps hold of your elbow, lowering himself down to rest his lips against the shell of your ear and because of his close proximity and the feeling of his scorchingly hot breath hitting your skin, you unknowingly hold your breath as a warm heat to set in over your cheeks and all the way to where he is breath hits against your ear.

“What if you change the way he looks at you, change your relationship... spice it up,” you look up just as he directs his attention past you and because of the way you’re facing, you miss the way minho’s hands ball tightly into stark white first as he shakes in silent anger as his eyes connect with Chan’s taunting ones, a sickly cunning smile playing on his lips. “All you’d have to do is shift the atmosphere between you too one filled with more… sexual chemistry.”

“St-stop joking around.” You flusteredly look at him, not being able to believe those words left his mouth.

“Y/N…” Minho’s voice breaks you out of your trance “The movies about to start.” You turn around to see him walk a few steps before he slows momentarily to give you some time to catch up to his pace as your mind in clouded with Chan’s words of wisdom.

You sit down on the cold leather, a shiver traveling down your spine that causes your skin to ignite in a visible layer of goosebumps. This doesn’t go unnoticed to Minho and he silently throws the blanket that was once resting on the lounge arm next to him, gently over you. You look up in slight surprise to see him gently smile down at you and this small generous action causes your heart to skip a beat and a small smile to twitch at the corners of your mouth and you return his kind gesture by sharing the warmth the blanket provides with him.

Without warning, your attention is taken away from Minho, with the sounds that are coming from the movie that has just started transforms into background noise and directed over to Chan as he leans over to you quietly.

“You know, this would be the perfect opportunity to try out what I told you about before.” Chan whispers with a smirk playing on his lips as you eyes widen and you whip your head away from his scrutinizing eyes, the warmth returning as a pink blush dusts your cheeks. You shift your eyes slightly to see Minho’s eyes on the screen and your heart drops slightly to see his attention not on you. You feel a nudge on your arm that causes you to look back at chan to see him trying to telepathically encourage you to do… something… anything.

You take a deep breath of courage as you dip your hand under the blanket that is draped over both you both before placing your right hand atop his jean-clad thigh to give it a gentle squeeze. Out of your peripheral vision, you notice the way his eyes grow wide in both shock and anticipation as you begin to slowly trace your fingers softly along the length of his thigh, rising your hand slightly higher each time.

You eyes briefly flicker to his face to see him draw his bottom lip between his teeth as his own eyes flutter close due to the sensation your fingers are producing and as it starts to radiate through his body, you feel confidence course through your veins as you direct your eyes back to the tv.

Upon hearing the quiet whimper that escapes Minho's mouth due to your hands ceased movement, his reaction instantly brings a smug smirk to grace your lips. You don’t spare the boy a single glance as you hoist the warm brown fleece blanket off your body before rising from your seated position and to your feet.

As you shuffle past Chan, he grasps hold of your wrist to halt your steps and gain your attention. “Do you want me to pause the movie?” He queried as you miss the way Minho’s gaze stays intensely trained on the way Chan gently hold your wrist, his thumb tracing small circles against your skin.

“No it’s okay.” Was all Chan needed to release your wrist and turning back to the tv before him to play the move once again. You may have missed the way Chan strategically directing his attention to your retreating figure for longer then needed but Minho sure didn’t.

Pacing your way to the secluded kitchen, you reach high towards the ceiling and grip the cabinet handle. Opening the door wide, you reach forth and clasp one of the tall and slender glasses before turning to face the sink. Lifting the glass under the tap, you turn the handle with a C on the right side in the indicated direction, dispensing the transparent liquid into the glass up until it is half filled.

Lifting the tempered glass, you take a sip as the shuffling sound of footsteps breaks through the silence around you. As you lower the glass into the sink, you feel the tender touch of arms winding around your waist as you feel the warm breath from the mysterious man as it hits your cheek. Turning around in his arms, you are greeted by Minho’s face remarkably close to your own, his eyes dark and expression

“You are playing a dangerous game out there,Y/N.” Minho leans in close, his breath fanning across your lips.

“And here I thought you enjoyed the thrill of a dangerous situation.” You feel a rush of courage as you coo in a teasing manner, raising your hands to sit at the back of his neck, tangling with his hair.

“Oh, believe me, I do.”

“Then what’s there to complain about?” you whisper against the shell of his ear, not missing the shiver the travels from where your hands are positioned, all the way down to the base of his back. “Now, as much as I would love to continue ‘this’,” You pause as you reposition your right hand to trace your index finger down his cheek to the base of his neck slowly as you look back into his eyes. “I’m almost positive one of the boys have noticed our absence.”

Lightly pushing against his chest, you step away from him and walk out the kitchen. Making your way back to the lounge room, you seize your previous spot under the warm blanket, noticing how empty the room has become. You heart is racing a million miles an hour as you bury you face in your hands out of embarrassment and disbelief of your own behaviour.

“Has Minho’s behaviour changed towards you?” Chan questions as you cross your legs. You feel your heart speed up a little as the memories of how Minho was in the kitchen floods your mind causing a pale pink blush to settle on your cheeks as you look down, just missing the way he turns slightly behind him to look in the direction you just came from.

You hear a small laugh come from Chan and when you look up to see why, he lifts his arm to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as a complacent smile forms at his lips. This surprisingly gentle action causes the light blush tinting your cheeks to deepen.

“We should go to the arcade again, don’t you think?” He quietly suggests as he lightly traces his fingers along your forearm.

“Arcade? What arcade?” You confusingly utter, inadvertently naive to what his true actions are.

“Remember…” he looks at you with a ‘just-play-along’ expression. “When we went to the arcade the other day? I think we should go next time… but j-just the two of us.” He shyly lets out, this time he is the one to have a blush cross along his cheeks as he removes his fingers from your skin, clasping them in this lap. The blush dusting your cheeks deepens to a dark red at his reaction.

You shift your eyes around the room in unease as you fidget with the the cuff of your hoodie sleeve until they settle on Minho’s figure standing at the edge of the room. His eyes darken as he silently glowers in what looks to be outrage.

The next few seconds seem to pass by as fast as it is slow. Your eyes growing wide at the clear stone cold glare Minho is giving Chan as he grasps hold of you hand, pulling you off the lounge as his gaze stays intensely trained on the older male.

“Don’t think you can conveniently butt in!” Minho throws over his shoulder as he turns on his heel not leaving any room for Chan to respond. When you reach the middle of his room, the two of you stand in complete silence, your eyes trained on your feet as Minho observes the world outside his window.

“What did you mean before?” you finally break the silence as you raise your eyes to see Minho whip his head in your direction.

“Are you actually serious?” He scoffs in disbelief. “Am I nothing but a game to you?”

“Of course not Minho” he doesn’t miss the hurt that flashes through your eyes. “Why would you ever think that?”

“You’ve been messing with me with each touch and ever breath but the moment Chan even looks at you, you’re under his spell.”

“No I’m not” You say defensively.

“I’ve been by your side y/n. Me!” he places his hand against his chest. “Not Chan but me.”

“Then why have you never done anything to change…” you point between you two exaggeratedly. “...Us?” You notice the way his eyes darken as he takes a slow steps, closing the gap between the two of you which causes your heart to pound faster. His face inching closer as you feel his warm breath dance across your lips as he lifts his hand to cradle you cheek.

“Then how about I change it now.” His whispered breath mingling with yours as he embraces your lips in a soft kiss. You close your eyes, completely entrapped in the minty taste radiating from his mouth and soft feeling of his lips.

He slips his hand from your cheek and moves it to tangle in with you hair at the back of your neck, pushing your lips firmer against his own. At the feeling of his other hand trailing down your arm to rest against the small of your back, you lift your hands to wrap around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. He pulls you closer to him, the warmth from his body washes over you as you feel his tongue sweep across you bottom lip and you unconsciously open you mouth, not even attempting to fight for dominance.

He suddenly disconnects his lips from yours, both of you breathing heavily. The feeling of his lips firmly pressed against your own, still whispers over yours and you slowly open your eyes to see him already looking at you through hooded lids. He then silently dives down to you collarbone, peppering gentle kisses along the soft skin in a slow and teasing manner, knowing full well that you won’t be able to resist his touch any longer.

You tilt your jaw to the side with a hitched breath, fully exposing you neck in the process as he gently nibbles against your sweet spot. His hands held a gentle yet firm grip onto your hips, pulling you closer to him as he roams his soft touch from the soft skin of your neck to the curvature of your collarbone.

“So…” He whispers through heavy breathing, looking you directly in the eyes with an intense gaze. “Has anything changed?”

“Yes…” You connect your lips in another gently soft kiss.

[writing-royza]

Two Hundred and Sixty - At the Window, 3.0

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone and OH MY GOSH THE DRAFT FEATURE WORKED THIS WEEK! Sorry again about last week’s snafu, and thanks for sticking around! Please enjoy the fic you were supposed to get a week ago. :/

I do not own FMA.

Two Hundred and Sixty - At the Window, 3.0

He had noticed the small group of boys trailing him since leaving the bookstore twenty minutes earlier. Roy had hoped they would turn off down one of the side streets, but since leaving town, they continued to follow. One of them probably lives along here somewhere, he told himself scoldingly. Just a group of friends going to a friend’s house for the afternoon. Why should they be out to get you?

“Hey, you!”

With the sudden, sinking feeling that his own personal pep talk had been in vain, Roy looked back. The group was closer than before, all eyes directly on him. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach; not quite nervousness, but anticipation of what was to come. With the odds at five to one, he didn’t expect it to be anything good.

Resettling his grip on the newly purchased book under his arm, he flashed as charming a smile as he could manage. “Can I help you with something, gentlemen?”

The group’s leader - a boy a few years younger but a full head taller than Roy - sneered openly as they stopped a few metres away. “‘Gentlemen.’ Listen to the big-city brat, boys; he probably thinks that talking fancy makes him better than the likes of us.”

Roy allowed his smile to cool visibly. “Actually, I think manners count more toward that, but that’s not really the point, is it.” He lifted one eyebrow. “You still haven’t told me what it is you want.”

One of the other boys, quiet until now, spoke up. “We want you to stay away from Riza Hawkeye, is what!”

“Excuse me?”

The group’s ringleader stepped forward, trying to use his height to his full advantage. “You’re her loony dad’s alchemy apprentice, aren’t you?”

Roy shifted his weight, ready to either defend himself or leap out of the way of a blow. “So what if I am? And what’s it to you?”

“We like her, you idiot!” another boy put in. “We already have to compete with each other for her, so we don’t want to have to deal with an outsider like you!”

A faint buzzing noise was hovering on the edge of Roy’s hearing, but he ignored it, turning his attention back to the tall boy in front of him. “I see. And being that I’m her father’s apprentice, I have an access to her that you don’t.” His gaze raked the tall boy scathingly. “From her description, am I right in thinking you’re Abner Wellsgate?”

The other eyed him suspiciously. “...Yeah….”

“Well, as I hear it, you had some pretty choice things to say about me last week, and little Miss Hawkeye bloodied your nose for it.” Roy grinned. “Doesn’t sound to me like she likes you all that much.”

The buzzing sound was rapidly getting louder, resolving into recognition as a car engine. Almost at the same rate, Abner’s face was turning red.

“You smug bastard,” he growled, hand visibly clenching into a fist. “You have no proof; you just want her for yourself!”

Roy saw the swing coming, and dodged backward. The whistle as the blow missed was audible, but he didn’t stop to celebrate this small victory. Getting a two-handed grip on the hardcover book he carried, he swung it sideways as hard as he could, and felt the jarring, satisfying impact as it made contact with the side of Abner’s face.

He didn’t wait around afterward. The Hawkeye house was still the better part of two miles up the road, but town was less than one. Bolting off in that direction, he dodged a hurried jab from one of the other boys and kept going.

The car he had heard was coming toward him at a decent clip, dust kicking up behind it… and a very familiar shock of blonde hair visible behind the wheel. On catching sight of him, Riza began to slow, but she didn’t stop. One hand lifted from the wheel, motioning to him.

And as she turned the car side-on to him, he understood. Grinning, he poured on more speed, his boots pounding the hard-packed dirt to the sound of yelling boys behind him.

The car still hadn’t fully stopped as he — quite literally — dove through the open rear passenger window into the back seat. Riza continued into a turn, speaking over her shoulder. “Which way?”

Pushing himself upward so that he wasn’t speaking into the leather seat, Roy hurriedly pulled his feet in through the window. “Doesn’t matter! Just go!”

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

It was, as exercises went, one of the more creative ones. Roy couldn’t deny Grumman that. But turning Eastern Command into a massively scaled game of full-contact hide-and-seek couldn’t have been the best idea, especially when playing against stealth specialists like the Briggs troops.

Roy had seen them in action before in the north, had seen the white-sheathed bodies rising from beneath the obscuring snow to attack at the perfect opportunity. Granted, they did not have their usual terrain here, but he still found himself checking the leafy tops of trees, or taking a second look at large tufts of grass on the parade ground.

Worst of all, he hadn’t seen Riza in three hours. She had said something about finding a good vantage point, smiled cryptically as she told him not to worry about her or himself, then disappeared. He had wondered briefly what she meant by not worrying, until a shot from seemingly out of the blue had painted a soldier creeping up on him with a bright yellow splotch, signalling he was out of the game.

Wherever she was, she was certainly keeping an eye on him.

He slinked cautiously through the decorative bushes at the parade ground’s edge, alert for any suspicious movement. The sounds of fighting were stronger on the west side if the garrison, but that didn’t mean he was entirely alone out here.

“Hold it right there, Mustang.”

Both the words and the feeling of a swordpoint at the base of his skull brought him to a perfect standstill. Swallowing hard, he forced a casual tone into his voice. “Major-General. I expected you would take the battlefield yourself, but I thought you would at least stay with your men.”

A scoffing laugh came as the sword withdrew. “My men aren’t so weak as yours, that they need me there to supervise them when they fight.”

Turning to face her, his hands kept cautiously in plain sight, Roy glared. “My men have never failed me before,” he bit out. “Perhaps I don’t keep them on as tight a leash as you would, but I find they work better when they have some leniency.”

Olivier shrugged unconcernedly. “It doesn’t matter how well you think they’re trained. The fact remains that my men just seized control of the main gate, ending any attempts from East City to either escape the grounds or storm them.”

Feeling his heart sink into the shattered remains of any plan he might have had, Roy hid his disappointment behind wariness, his eyes on her sword. “I see. I would offer you my congratulations, but somehow I don’t believe that this is over just yet.”

Regarding him with a calculating stare, Olivier allowed her weapon to dip toward the grass. Roy could have taken the moment to attack, but knew better. This woman was as lightning-quick with her reflexes as Edward or Scar, and every bit as dangerous as Riza.

“…You don’t honestly believe you can win,” she asked at last, blue eyes going briefly toward a troop transport that came lumbering around the corner of the garrison’s main building. She signalled it, and Roy looked back to find it flying Briggs’ flag. “You and I both know that I could incapacitate you before you got your flames up, and even if you somehow managed it, my men are already within range to pick you off.”

Roy’s eyes were still on the truck as it picked up speed across the parade ground toward them. “And what’s to prevent me from turning the entire vehicle to ash once I’m a prisoner inside it?” he asked, trying to buy himself a little more time, or a way out.

“I’m sure Miles can devise something,” Olivier answered sharply. “In the meantime, place your hands on top of your head, and move into the open. I’d hate to earn your Lieutenant’s wrath by injuring you, so be a good boy and cooperate.”

His eyes in the approaching truck, Roy hesitated only a moment before doing as he was bid. The truck should have been slowing down, but it continued to come at them, the sound of its large engine growing to a dull roar…. And as soon as he glimpsed the silhouette of its driver, he realized exactly what was going to happen.

Dropping his hands from his head, he dashed forward to meet the truck.

He was vaguely aware of Olivier shouting his name from behind him, before the roar of the truck engine drowned her out. Turning more sharply than a vehicle of its size ought to have, exposing the canvas-covered back to him, it began to slow.

Fuery’s head popped out. “Colonel, let’s go!”

Pulling himself up into the back if the truck, he heard Havoc yell, “He’s in! Go go go!” before the floorboards lurched as the truck got underway once again. Getting to his feet, he pushed toward the front, leaning through the window into the cab.

“I thought Armstrong got the drop on me a little too easily,” he said, grinning. “What happened to watching my back?”

Riza smiled tightly, focussing on turning the truck toward the southern gates. “When I heard that the main gate had fallen, I asked myself what you would do. Some little voice in my mind that sounded suspiciously like you said to get the others, regroup with you, and then rejoin our forces somewhere else.”

She glanced back at him, mischief dancing behind those brown eyes. “I figured it would be safe enough if I left you on your own for fifteen minutes. You’re not telling me I was wrong, are you, sir?”

“Of course not.” Looking out the passenger window, he caught a glimpse of a clearly seething Olivier Armstrong shrinking into the distance. “But this is the second time you’ve saved me by having me dive through a window. It’s all getting a bit dramatic.” He grinned again, feeling triumph spreading through his chest, “I like it.”

[booknooky]

Prev tags:

ID: [three hashtags as follows:

1. Also Superman would tell you that Superman is overrated and Batman would tell you that Batman is overrated

2. so again. Really a standstill. Why put these two white men against each other...

3....they'd both kill themselves for you if asked... /end ID.]

"superman is overrated" "no batman is overrated" they both are. and with your help, we can finally kill them ! by signing up for just a small monthly donation to me, Lex Luthor,