#sometimes i feel he's a tad unappreciated you know you know

[esprei]

🗣 ALL ABOARD!!! Calling all Emmet fans! 🗣 Starting July 1st, I will be hosting an Emmet appreciation month! Anyone is free to join! Each day will have its own prompt where you can use your creativity to help show some love for him - art/writing/etc! Feel free to use the tag #monthofemmet to share your submissions! I can't wait to see what everyone comes up with! Let’s have some fun celebrating our favorite smiling subway boss! And remember - everybody smile!

(Reblogs appreciated to help spread the word around!)

[theredconqueror]

It's only the last moment that he needs to catch, the last scraping of the dagger, to see the effect of all that he has done, which tastes sweet on his tongue even while he is not yet wetted with the beverages that will come. Saramus can surprise and delight too; has the other forgotten this? It seems that he has. But now there is someone else who perhaps may come to properly appreciate it. His blue eyes swim with the sight of this new actor on the scene, listening to Illario as he smiles subtly at the compliment, his attention no doubt seeming hyper focused, though that comes partially more so from the fact that he has to put in extra effort to keep up with this recently learned language. Illario's drawl doesn't sound as warm, fond, as Lucanis', but perhaps that it is because it is less familiar to him. He lets the back and forth rumble between them, keeping up with the strands, and watching. Watching as the masquerade mask slips just a tad. He would recognize the icy resentment any more, and finds the sharp shard familiar. Sometimes, the only warmth we find is the glass of ourselves that we cut ourselves on, the only heat our own blood. He's looking solely at Illario with what he says next, not unlike the ways he looks at Lucanis sometimes, to deliver a message to Spite: to the depths of one's soul. "I am used to being unappreciated," he says, the smiles on his lips something that merely floats their on his own, the tone tinged with good-humoured nature. "It is kind of you to think of me." He inclines his head at the offer and its perhaps implied acceptance, letting only the mystery of the night fill in the rest, as silence can torture better than words at times. The coffee comes. And well, his tea. Lucanis has remembered his preference, almost surprised that he's not been spitefully made to sip the local java. He takes a sip, finding the notes to his palate, and it makes him look over to Lucanis with a moment of interest, that the other had selected this particular blend to match his tastes. Unless he simply got lucky? He doesn't get a chance to dwell further when his attention is pulled back to Illario, who speaks of the heart. No words come here, either, only a smile like a coded message, if the other can catch the cipher: unlike you? "As to the mage you are looking for... perhaps I can track traces of the magic, if you might know what last location they were at," he offers helpfully, wondering exactly how grateful they both might be if all this got resolved. After a beat, he looks between the two coffee cups. "Ah, I feel I would be doing a disservice if I didn't try Treviso's famous blend that I've heard so much about... perhaps it might be able to tempt me away from my known preference?" He wonders coyly, his finger idly running a circle around the rim of his own cup.

People mourn the past more than they miss it; the sentiment rings true as Illario launches into another merry story, a paramour's mask affixed with perfect poise. That's not the smile he wore during those younger, lankier years. It's not the same gaze, nor is it the same intonation, voice settled at a comfortable vibrato to sound appealing, pleasant to the ears of any who have eyes enough to see instead of the higher pitch that complained about hard training days. Yes, Lucanis might admit to grieving those years — the quiet moments spent with a cousin that's more a brother, their shoulders burdened by the expectations of an entire dead, dying lineage — but he can also admit he didn't miss this version of Illario. The one that's lost some passion, lost the drive to ascend the ranks and make his dead parents proud. There's seemingly no more of the dream to chase after, something Lucanis lacked all his life but admired in his brother; loved him for it despite never knowing how to show it. For a moment, he looks deathly similar to Catarina, down to the glint of his eyes as he regards Rook, that Lucanis tenses by a fragment.

He tenses more when a furtive touch ambushes him during these musings. Muscles coiling, body shifting to roil the shock elsewhere as he keeps a neutral expression, he only shoots Rook a glare from the corner of his eye before his brows furrow. Antivan?

Illario naturally takes to it with the ease of an osprey diving into the water, talons extended in his sharp smile. While Lucanis flounders, he responds at an octave lower, throatier in his native tongue. "Little wonder my cousin kept you secret from me. How selfish of you, I thought we were family! An Imperium mage with an appreciation for the finer indulgences in life! And don't worry about Lucanis too much, there's little in the world that doesn't stress him."

"You know that because you have been nothing but a source of stress for me, Illario," Lucanis snaps back, tone equally river-smooth in their language. "While you indulged, I worked."

"And who made sure you could work unimpeded? Those contacts of yours didn't fall out of the sky." The mask slips, the coldness revealed by a margin before Illario turns back to Rook, all pleasant business. "I at least hope he showed appreciation for his timely rescue. Though, I now realize I haven't done it properly either, Rook. Once the business with Zara is handled, I would love nothing more than to prove how gracious I can be."

Lucanis snorts, and takes the delivered coffee with a quiet nod, grateful for the distraction of something familiar and comforting. "Enough. The last spy just left. Couldn't take your frivolous behavior any long. Drink your coffee before it spoils."

"See? My cousin is nothing but a responsible boor with no heart nor romance to speak of." Still, the playful act cedes as the topic reaches it's turning point. To business, then. And Lucanis sits straighter. Stares at his coffee while the uneasy feeling gnaws from within. Paranoia about the mole, traitors in every shadow. [ He's lying. About something. ]

[vannminner]

-

Where Magic Flows

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A03

FanFiction

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Part One: In the Air (VII)

-

  “I know how ridiculous this must seem to you, but look, I am fine.”

Seated center to the bed, Anna watched as Kristoff paced the width of their bedroom. He refused her his eyes. His expression was determined, brows low and forehead wrinkled. He was a man on a mission, but also fearful to witness. 

“My color is back. My head feels fine, and look,” Anna rose to stand. “See, I am not dizzy!”

“Anna, sit down, please.” Kristoff scolded, and Anna did as she was told.

Everything she had said was true, however, Kristoff no longer had the patience for it. 

“The doctor is on his way. There are no ifs, ands, nor buts about it! Mattias has already sent for him, so you might as well sit back, relax, and wait with me.”

His tone was sharp, but Anna didn’t take it to heart. Her husband was frightened, and frightened in a way she’d never seen on him before. Kristoff appeared puzzled in his pacing. He was searching for answers regarding things he knew very little about. Because, if Anna was sick, there were no answers on how to make her better, and knowing this; Anna decidedly let him fret.

“I know you are worried, but look at the bright side- whatever is bothering me, it comes and goes. This is not the same as what we have seen in the children! My stomach is fine, a little queasy at times, but I am not getting sick, and that’s a good start!”

“You were feeling queasy?” Kristoff’s angered face suddenly appeared at her side. 

“You missed all the positive things I’d said, and jumped right onto that one…” Anna grumbled with a slight roll of her eyes. 

Ignoring her frustrations, Kristoff climbed onto the bed. He pulled Anna’s arms away from her chest, and held her hands in his. 

“I’m sorry. I know I am driving you crazy.” Her brows lifted knowingly, but Kristoff went on. “-and maybe exaggerating things a bit, but Anna, please, for my own peace of mind, as well as for your own, just be honest with the doctor. Let us help you figure this out...” 

She stared at Kristoff for a long moment. Anna’s eyes searched his face until finally, she released a sigh. 

“Okay,” she promised, and she meant it. 

- 

 The heat of the summer sun was at new high when Elsa left her hut midmorning. Her conversation with Ryder had brightened her spirits, and Elsa felt refreshed and ready to continue her search.

Apologizing to Honeymaren took precedence, though. Their last conversation had left her feeling uneasy. Seeing that far-off look in her brown eyes, and the almost impersonal smile that Honeymaren put on for her; Elsa couldn’t understand it. Yet, regardless of understanding, the interaction weighed heavy on her heart. Elsa thought it better to face Honeymaren head-on, so then she might enjoy her newfound motivation. 

Elsa located Honeymaren tending to the crops to the east of the village. Their supply had, luckily, fared well during Bruni’s rebellion. They lost a section of wheat plants, and a handful of corn, but the rest remained unscathed. 

Honeymaren was busy working alongside the other women when Elsa approached. Elsa always thought it humorous when Honeymaren was assigned to harvest duty. Her fearless, strong-minded friend never looked as if she belonged in the farmlands. And today was no different. Honeymaren’s efforts were jaded. Her thoughts were elsewhere, and she aggressively tended to the cabbage in front of her. 

If she sensed Elsa behind her, Honeymaren did not look up. She was on her knees, welling out dirt, when Elsa lowered at her side. 

“Hi,” She greeted. A small smile tugged at Elsa’s lips. 

“Hello,” Honeymaren echoed. Her attention held to the task at hand. 

“May I borrow you for a moment?” 

Eyes briefly closing, Honeymaren fought a sigh. When they reopened, she wiped her hands along the tops of her pants, and then turned to find Elsa. Immediately, Honeymaren wished she hadn’t. Elsa lingered a few centimeters too close to her face. Her bottom lip sank beneath her teeth, and seeing that drove Honeymaren’s eyes wide. 

She swiftly pulled back from her, moving quickly toward the next plant. “I’m expected to finish the harvest before midday...” Honeymaren whispered. 

“This will only take a second.”

Defeated, Honeymaren’s gaze swept through the crowd of women around her. They were all preoccupied in their own work. No one would notice if she disappeared for a short while, however, the idea of being alone with Elsa had Honeymaren perturbed. She didn’t have her emotions in check. She was angry, and knew she was lacking the right to be. 

“Fine,” Honeymaren huffed and rose to her feet. “-but only for a second.”

Unwilling to waste that second, Elsa led Honeymaren to the recesses of the clearing. It bordered the forest, but was far enough away for anyone to hear what she had to say. 

When they came to a stop, Elsa’s hands fought to her waist. She had her eyes on them, watching as her fingers twisted together. 

“Well?” Honeymaren asked. Her hands splayed over her hips. 

Elsa’s eyes rose to her tentatively, surprised by the offputting nature of Honeymaren’s tone. “I wanted to apologize to you again- for being rude to you yesterday. You didn’t deserve it, and I know you were only looking to help me.”

“Is that all?” Her response was sharp. Honeymaren’s head tilt to the side. 

Elsa blinked. “Well, yes. I mean, I’m not one for excuses, but I have had a lot on my mind between the spirits leaving and Arendelle, and I should not have taken my frustrations out on you.”

Silence reigned between them. Honeymaren’s stare was strict and unwavering. Elsa could almost sense the way the woman’s teeth grit behind her lips. 

“So, you’ve said.” she finally replied. “-and as I have said, it is fine. Now, are we done here?” 

Honeymaren’s back was on Elsa before she could respond. Nevertheless, Elsa was not so quickly defeated. She reached out, snatching Honeymaren’s hand, and held her still. Elsa then came to face her. She circled around Honeymaren’s waist and met her eyes with a small frown. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I am sensing, quite loudly, that you may still be angry with me...”

Elsa released Honeymaren’s hand. Her brow arched and her lips pulled coyly to the side. Unappreciative of Elsa’s teasing, Honeymaren crossed her arms. 

“I am not angry.” she feigned. “I am tired and there is a lot of work to be done around here.”

Once again, she did not wait for Elsa's reply. With her arms crossed and movements quick, Honeymaren set back for the field. 

Elsa watched her stomping away. “You are angry with me!” she announced, feeling almost as if she had solved a new riddle. “Please, tell me, what did I do to upset you?”

Honeymaren shook her head. She could hear Elsa’s feet hurrying after her, and she refused to slow. 

“I’m not upset!” she shouted, but the tone gave her away. 

Flustered, Honeymaren came to a stop. Her eyes flickered between women watching her from the other side of the field.  

“Look, if you are needing someone to talk to right now, perhaps Ryder would be a better fit for you?”

“Ryder?” Elsa came to a halt, a mere foot from where Honeymaren stood. Her shoulders pulled up in confusion, and she shook her head. “I don’t understand... I am trying to talk to you!”

“But I don’t want to talk!” Honeymaren defended, and she spun back to Elsa with a fierce growl. “I don’t want to talk to you, or anyone else for that matter! Besides, you don’t have to lie to me, or spare my feelings in any way. I know you know now, Elsa!”

The pained expression Honeymaren bore was perplexing. Elsa’s frown deepened in response. “What do I know? I’m afraid I don’t understand what’s going on here!”

Honeymaren rolled her eyes. Acid returned to her tongue. “Ryder has feelings for you! That’s why you’ve come here, correct? Not to apologize, or to ask me how my morning is going, but to tell me what happened between you and my brother last night!”

“Last night…” Elsa’s confusion only thickened until her eyes suddenly struck wide. “Oh! That? But wait- Ryder has feelings for me?” 

The air punched from Elsa’s lungs. 

“Yes!” Honeymaren nearly bellowed. “-and please, drop this act... I know you have feelings for him, too!”

 - 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking your husband to leave?”

Doctor Laugen smirked as his thumb dug toward the door. 

“Oh, no…” Anna blushed. She stood from the bed and came to face him. “Kristoff means well, he does, but sometimes… he can get a bit carried away…”

“He cares about you.” Doctor Laugen shrugged. “There is nothing wrong with that.”

Nodding, Anna’s eyes drifted toward the floor. She pulled idly at her fingers, and swayed uneasily on the balls of her feet. 

“So, what brings me here today, your majesty?” Anna’s attention was directed back to the man’s face. “Lieutenant Mattias has stated that this meeting bears absolute confidentiality, which I will admit, had me feeling a tad anxious. However, looking at you, you appear alright! Your complexions fine. I typically happen upon a much different scenario when I am directed to a patient’s bed chamber...” 

“Right…” Anna’s cheeks further darkened. “As I said, Kristoff can take things to the extreme faster than I realize it is happening.”

“Tell me, then.” Doctor Laugen came to sit on the trunk at the foot of the bed. He patted the space beside him, motioning for Anna to join. “Why is your husband going to extremes?”

Instead of sitting, Anna came to lean against one of the posts. Her attention diverted to her hands. “Well, you see, Doctor… Kristoff is nervous, and I suppose it would be truthful to say that I am feeling nervous, too; but we’re afraid I may have contracted this illness that's spreading through Arendelle…”

Her eyes rose towards his hesitantly.

“-and what has you believing this?” Doctor Laugen’s head turned. His hand waved over Anna’s height. “You appear healthy. Your face is bright with good color, as are your eyes. You know as well as I do that these are not the same symptoms we have seen from the children down in the clinic.” 

“I know, I know…” Anna assured him. “-but, there is something not quite right here…”

“Go on,” he encouraged her, flashing Anna a small grin. 

Needing space, Anna wandered away from where Doctor Laugen sat. She began to pace the floor at the side of her bed. 

“You see, I have these dizzy spells, and then there’s the headaches, not to mention the nausea and just downright awful feeling that takes over sometimes, especially in my chest, well breasts- and the spells never seem to last long! No, never more than an hour or two at most, but they, um, do appear to get worse each day. So, I might not be sick with the bad sick, no, but I do think there’s something wrong with me…”

“I see,” Doctor Laugen hummed. “-and for how long have you been experiencing these symptoms?” 

Anna shrugged as she finally came to a halt in front of him. “I am not certain, maybe a week, maybe two? I have been trying to ignore it…”

Doctor Laugen nodded. “Hmm, well, not exactly the timeline we have been facing down in the clinic.” He briefly touched his chin. “-and there has been no stomach pain nor vomiting?”

“No, not yet, anyway,” Anna shook her head. “- and that has to be a good thing, right? You wouldn’t have me still standing here if you thought I contracted that illness...”

The doctor chuckled. “No, your majesty, I do not believe you have the illness. I do, however, believe that you may be in need of a different type of specialist.” 

Anna’s eyes widened. Her head tilt to the side as it shook. “What do you mean? What kind of specialist?”

Doctor Laugen stood with his hands held tight in his pockets. “Your majesty, when was your last menstrual cycle?”

“My last- what?” Anna’s brows touched to her hairline. Her heart suddenly sped up beneath her ribs. “Oh. Oh holy-”

Anna’s words fell away. She sunk against the bed. Very tentatively, she met the doctor’s gaze and he smiled at her.

 -

 Elsa wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry, but more than anything, she wanted to run away. 

Talking about Ryder, and in front of his sister- talking about attraction regarding Ryder in any capacity was enough to make her flee. But this…

“Honeymaren, I don’t know what you think you know, but I most certainly do not have feelings for your brother!” Elsa’s voice was low and hoarse. Her cheeks tinged pink as her eyes rolled in their sockets. 

She had never felt so emotionally vulnerable before, and she wasn’t quite sure what had brought it on. Her entire life was spent experiencing fear. However, this was different than that. This was uncomfortable; unchartered territory even. To be accused of having feelings for someone else- it was so seemingly normal that Elsa could not believe she was the target. 

“Why can’t you just admit it? I was there, and I saw you both!” 

Honeymaren was now fully facing Elsa, wearing a wicked glare.  It was intimidating, like nothing Elsa had seen from the woman before. Honeymaren was frightening when angry, and Elsa knew she should be afraid. But whether it was the humor or the uncertainty of the situation, Elsa found herself more entertained than anything else. Regardless, she knew this was no longer the time nor the place. Worried that Honeymaren may cause a scene, Elsa started to back away.

“Look, Honeymaren, this is not what I came here for. We can deal with your accusations later!” Her hands rose at her sides and she spun around.

Honeymaren charged after her. “Avoidance is as good as a passive yes, so what I am saying must be true!” she jested. 

“No,” Elsa nearly snorted. “You could not be further from the truth...”

Honeymaren’s laughter rang in from over her shoulder, but Elsa kept walking. Down through the lower field, and over the embankment, Elsa drove them towards the woods. 

“You wanted to talk, and now suddenly you are no longer interested?” Honeymaren huffed, blowing the fallen hairs from her face. “Why don’t you just tell me what the two of you talked about, then? Or is it something so deeply personal that I’m not at liberty to know?”

Elsa came to a dramatic halt. She spun on her heels with her finger raised. “What is going on here? What am I missing?” Her face flashed between emotions. “You know, I would tell you what we talked about if I thought that was really what you wanted to hear, but you and I both know that you are fishing for something else; something that did not actually happen, and I don’t know why you are doing it!”

Crossing her arms, Honeymaren stepped in closer. “Funny, how am I the one fishing, when you’re the one parading around as bait?”

Jaw wavering, eyes erratically wide; Elsa’s thoughts fluttered from conscious. Her expression turned bored and she shook her head. 

“I am not even going to touch that one.” Her voice came at a deadpan before walking away once more. 

Elsa had made it no more than two feet before anger drove back through her chest. Whatever was happening here, it was ridiculous. And the worst part was, Elsa didn’t understand it at all. She had come to Honeymaren to apologize, and was now being forced to listen to her outrageous accusations. None of it made any sense. 

She tried to dig through the years of novels she read in a matter of seconds. Why did events like these happen in books? Unfortunately, nothing came to mind, and instead her anger continued to grow. 

Quite suddenly, she was spiralling back toward Honeymaren. Her frustrations had reached their hilt, and they released in a burst of unwarranted laughter. 

“Do you want to know what your brother said to me last night?” Elsa didn’t wait for Honeymaren to respond. “I went to Ryder to apologize for the burn, and he told me that it wasn’t my fault. He did not tell me he had feelings for me- and thank you for that by the way; that should certainly make things comfortable around here for a while- but I went to Ryder as a friend, and he treated me like a friend. Now, please, can we stop with these dramatics?”

Honeymaren could only stare, and Elsa stared right on back. Behind brown eyes, the anger was fading, but something else remained. What she could read there, it had Elsa feeling confused. Her brows tucked together and she swung her head to the side. 

“Wait,” Elsa stopped. Her hand fluttered between them. “Why do you even care?”

“What?” The question was forced from Honeymaren’s lungs. She balked at Elsa behind wide eyes. 

“Why do you care how Ryder feels about me? And what does it matter to you how I respond?” She shook her head, blonde hair curtaining her face. “It makes no sense...”

Honeymaren rolled her eyes. Tight fists drew in at her side. “I don’t care! You’ve got this all wrong-”

“Do I?” Elsa’s brow arched. “Is this jealousy?” A small smirk lifted to her lips and a light lit behind her eyes. “It is, isn’t it? Because, if I didn’t know any better, all of this anger and deflection; it’s stemming from some place else… I think you are jealous, Honeymaren!”

“H-hey now.. Will you wait just a second here!” Honeymaren stammered through words.

“No, you are! Aren’t you? I can’t believe it!” Elsa cheered. 

It felt as if she’d put the puzzle back together. It was rewarding! Honeymaren was jealous!

“But, wait… jealous of what?” Elsa’s grin faded quick. “I don’t understand, of your brother? No, that doesn’t make sense…”

Across from her, Elsa watched Honeymaren grow incredibly small. Her arms wrapped protectively around her waist. Her shoulders rolled up into her neck. Elsa had never seen Honeymaren appearing so caught off guard. Her cheeks were pink, and she almost looked… embarrassed... 

“Wait…” Elsa hummed again. Her head turned slowly to each side. “-before, when you brought up Ryder… you said, that he was a better fit for me than…”

Elsa’s voice began to trail off. Honeymaren was no longer looking at her. She had taken two shakey steps back. Her cheeks were buried into the collar of her tunic, and her skin had gone from pink to flushed. 

“Oh…” Alarm suddenly filled Elsa’s brain. Her skin grew warm, and her chest… very heavy. 

“...a better fit for me than...you?”

It took a full minute for Honeymaren’s eyes to meet Elsa’s wide ones. 

The way she bit her lip, and the fog of guilt laced over her expression; what Elsa had guessed was true.

Ryder was not the only Nattura who had feelings for her. 

- 

  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, or in this case - hell hath no fury like a woman who is jealous of her dorky, reindeer-loving brother making moves on her fifth spirit... 

Cheers,

-M.

[babyboyoonie]

hello 💖 thank you so much for writing my request for yoonseokook!! I have another request... Can you write babyboy!Yoongi for the boys, please? I think he will be so soft and fluffy... And BTS will probably so whipped bc he will be their precious babyboy and they will love him so much ❤

hi darling!! it was my pleasure ♥♥ n you’re right, Yoongi’s the fluffiest and the boys are WHIPPED for him ((; 

hope you enjoy!!

So. Yoongi doing basically anything is a…it’s a thing. Jin doesn’t know when he started paying attention to the little one’s every move, but here he is, staring. Yoongi’s not even doing anything remotely interesting…? He’s…He’s cutting some vegetables for Jin, that’s it. But his lips are pouting in concentration, cat-like eyes fixed on the slow movements of his hands and probably unaware of the things happening around him.

That’s good, Jin thinks, heart immensely soft. At least Yoongi wouldn’t be creeped out by Jin’s attention and slight, slight obsession, let’s be honest. He’s not as forward as others members are, but that doesn’t mean his feelings aren’t here. Doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t melt at Yoongi’s adorableness. Yoongi just breathing and actually being the fucking cutest boy on earth.

He’s so caught up in his starring, the bottle of vinegar in his hands just kind of…kind of drops in the plate. Opening on the way, of course.

Jin stares at it in silent mourning. And finally, finally, Yoongi looks up.

He mutters a little “oh?” mouth parted prettily and narrow eyes wide open. It’s unlike his usual low voice. It’s an “oh?” of surprise, sweet as honey, a mix of concern and amusement. “Hyung,” the man says, grins with amusement dancing in his eyes as he walks hurriedly on Jin’s side. “hyung, are you okay?”

Jin presses his lips together, giving off a strained smile. Yoongi’s amused, and his eyes are twinkling like pretty stars, and Jin’s finding it hard to keep his cool. He just wants to…wants to hold the little one. Hug him, coo at him, whisper he’s the prettiest boy ever and that Seokjin wants to call him his. Wants to call him his, and be at ease, holding him forever. Free of the happy moods he doesn’t always want to portray, free to be just him and stare at Yoongi for hours to no end in pure silence. Jin wants. Instead, “I was just distracted,” he says, eyes finding Yoongi’s.

The younger boy hums. Dubious. It’s funny because Jin was actually distracted. By him, and his tendency to be adorable just by…by breathing. “Fine,” Yoongi relents, though he pokes Jin gently on his arm, gaze soft like heaven. “If you want to talk, though, I’m here.”

He’s darling, a complete darling. Jin wants to lift him and cuddle him close to his chest and, and rock him like a little baby and sing about how adorable he is.

Yoongi’s too cute by barely doing anything, and Jin’s gonna get gray hair before he even hits thirty.

So. Clothes. Hoseok hadn’t expected for it to be their thing but life was surprising like that. Helping Yoongi dancing? Learning new choreographies? Talking producing or going out to eat ice-cream? Yeah, that would be more like it. But no, clothes. A day spent inside, locked in a room to do nothing all day together and—and yeah, clothes.

Hoseok thought, after a while, that it would be fun. Actually, everything with Yoongi was fun, period. They could just—they could lay there and do nothing for hours and Hoseok would surely have a blast anyway. Yoongi was poker-face exploding in a second in the prettiest expression, eyes crinkling and wide smile and literal stars around him. Yoongi was all about doing the silliest things when nobody expected and coming out of it cuter than ever. Which shouldn’t have been possible. But here they were.

Here Hoseok was, sitting on the edges of the bed with his feet firmly planted down. Perhaps to keep himself grounded, to stop the urgent need to get to Yoongi and cuddle the hell out of him. This need was growing larger by the second, Hoseok’s throat was constructed with the urge to babble about—about how cute Yoongi was. To tell him, just like last time, that he looked like a flower. Tell him pretty things until he looked away in evident shyness, a little smile on his lips to try and pretend he wasn’t flustered.

Yoongi pokes his head out of the closet. Then his whole body, and he makes a show of twirling for Hoseok—because it’s just the two of them, and he’s at ease doing those kinds of things in front of Hoseok. When nobody’s looking but his soul partner, when there’s no camera to picture another of his soft moments. Yoongi makes a show of twirling and sweetly chuckling, and Hoseok, oh Hoseok hides his lower face in his hand because he’s most probably blushing like hell.

There’s something like a lullaby in Yoongi’s eyes, in his voice when he mutters, teasing and cheery, “Hoseokie, hey, Seok-Seok, do you like it?” perhaps it has something to do with the wide, brilliant grin on his lips or, or the gentle flush on his cheeks and the way those cute pins gently push his air backward, in the prettiest picture.

He doesn’t know what it is—liar, liar, you know, it’s just Yoongi being Yoongi—but it, it releases the knots in his throat and makes him grip his own thighs. As to not grab Yoongi and never let him go for days. They’re sweaty, and he wipes them against the dark material of his jeans, chuckling breathlessly. “Yeah,” he says, eyes racking up and down the too-big outfit on Yoongi. It was his, the one he wore some days ago to the airport as they flew to Japan. The one Yoongi has told him made him look like a university teacher in one of those epic movies. He’s all dressed up, and it’s too big, just like the beautiful grin he throws at Hoseok at his answer. “Yeah, hyung, you’re, you’re the prettiest.”

Yoongi flushes. Oh so prettily, and Hosoeks gone gone gone.

So. Yoongi’s cute. Like, this isn’t rocket science or anything new but—but Namjoon’s still surprised every day. His hyung’s really cute, as in little gifts spread here and there he denies with a pout having given. Cute, as in encouragements always ready for anyone that needs them. Cute in a fluffy, cloud-like amazement when they start a new activity. It’s a quiet process most of the time—slowly blinking eyes that widen, mouth shaped in a pretty ‘o’ easing in a smile before he settles down. It’s rarely exploding fireworks and childish amazement, it’s him, and it’s soft, still baby-like in the best way possible.

Namjoon rocks on his feet and watches him quietly. Listens to everything around them with an ear, attentive, always, but attention wholly turned toward his hyung even if it doesn’t really look like it. Namjoon’s looking out for him silently, discreet, but Yoongi catches him anyway. Smiles cheekily at him, eyes glinting in something Namjoon reads like—“yah, we’ve basically been married for eight years now, you really thought you could fool me?” And, and okay, it might be a bit creepy to guess that with just a glance but—Namjoon just knows Yoongi like that.

Knows he’s the babiest of them all, under the coat of the grandpa he was given the nickname of in the beginning. Namjoon draws a mood board in his head, for him. He pictures a frame of his little hyung laying in the sun, soaking it like a blooming flower. Places just aside, then, a bunch of roses and marguerites and pretty bluebells. Adds in lovely tunes on the sky; a peculiar way of eating, little attentions that never get unappreciated, and finally, a bouquet of surprising actions just—silly and utterly adorable.

Yoongi decides to act upon the last image, it seems. As if he had read his mind. He waddled toward him, little smile a tad bit mischievous, very much boyish and more than loveable. He places his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders, and kind of just jumps, and Namjoon of course—Namjoon catches him. Namjoon catches him and laughs and relishes in the butterflies exploding in his stomach at the adorable display of affection.

His little hyung clings to him all day like a koala, and Namjoon’s heart sings baby, baby, baby.

They create poetry. Taehyung and Yoongi. Feet dangling in the air just in front of the beach, safe and sound in the shade protecting them of the harsh sun. They create poetry. The thing is, Taehyung can’t wait to get started on the poem he wants to write about Yoongi. They had thought—had thought of just hanging out, side by side, tease each other in their mother dialect and reminiscing about the place they were from. That had been that, and then it became about literature, and poems and they started reading—ended up writing.

The thing is, Taehyung wants to write about Yoongi. Wants to write about how utterly soft he is under the way he appears sometimes. Wants to write and sing and scream about his smooth edges and his big heart. The heart he wears on his sleeve, tries to hide because he’s just that fragile and—and could be broken if someone wasn’t careful enough. His hyung was all tough and dry sarcasm, but he was more than that, so much more.

He’s…he’s small. Really fucking small, and should be held with caution. It’s fine to tease him, he likes it, teases back. But not too much, because he’s sensible, sensible and fragile and terribly good at hiding his weaknesses. It’s scary because his little hyung has been hurt before—has been hurt countless of times, and they barely saw anything, had barely been able to help him. He’s really small, tiny, and everything he shows—it’s real, but there’s more he’s hiding, more of the things that make him seem like he was made of glass, the childishness he only showed from time to time.

Yoongi falls on his side, and Taehyung immediately tucks him under his arm. Cooes, inaudible and in awe, at how tiny his hyung looked under him, how utterly soft—how sweet. His strong, tough hyung folded like a kitten in his side and nearly purring in delight.

Taehyung’s—Taehyung’s gonna write about him, Taehyung’s going to breathe flowers and compliments on his darling little hyung; whisper odes to his heavenly being.

Yoongi sleeps like an angel. It’s…It’s a fact. People look—they look normal while they sleep, okay. Neutral or peaceful or, or just, you know, the sleeping face. Jimin fumbles with his thoughts, bites his lower lip and inches a bit closer to his hyung. He’s really—he really looks an angel. Utter peace crowns his expression, from the delicate tilt of his nose to the butterfly-like movement of his eyelashes and the rosy bow of his lips. He’s gorgeous, angelic, a delicate set of everything that is pretty and more than tempting. Jimin’s always at war. Tugged between the desire to express just how cute his hyung is, alongside with the need to—to tease the hell out of him until he mutters—

“Yah, Park Jimin—”

In the most drowsy, delectable way. Yoongi’s voice is laced with heavy sleepiness, his words slurred, and the tone of his voice adorably low. He hadn’t cursed at him today. Which was sad, Yoongi cursing at him wasn’t offensive at all—just another expression of how, of…of how darling he was.

Still, still. Jimin’s satisfied. Can’t stop himself from cooing and reaching over to poke at Yoongi’s puffy cheeks. They redden slowly, as Yoongi blinks, furrows his eyebrows and tries weakly to get away. It doesn’t work. His fingers kind of, just, clenches the sheet underneath him as he curls up a little bit more inward himself. Body a little cotton, with the way his legs are folded, as if he wanted to make himself as small as possible.

Such a cute, delightful baby.

Jimin reaches out again. This time, lets his hand glide on his hyung’s neck, caressing the soft skin, ripping kittenish noises from the little one who bats at his hands in displeasure. It’s—it’s really fucking adorable, and Jimin could never have enough. Naps with the older man as much as possible to wake up to this face. Puffed up and angelic and soft soft soft.

He rocks Yoongi back to sleep with little “baby hyung,” muttered in his ear, and Yoongi whines, but he ends up falling asleep again shortly after.

Jimin melts into a puddle of never-ending adoration.

Jungkook isn’t sure if anyone else noticed it. He entertains the thought and realizes that—that no, they couldn’t. Because Yoongi-hyung’s pretty discreet about it, because it’s mostly said so softly they don’t think about it twice, don’t look further on it. Jungkook thinks…Jungkook thinks Yoongi has some sort of, of praise kink. It makes his cheeks redden immediately, renders him impossible to look at his little hyung in the eyes before he calmed down, but he’s sure on it. Had started thinking about it at the fan-sign in Japan. When—when in the middle of nowhere, Namjoon-hyung had complimented Yoongi-hyung’s eyes. And, and his reaction had been adorable? Adorable and…and he had asked again, soft, “are they shining?” as if he wanted Namjoon to repeat it, to assure him that yes, yes, his eyes were pretty.

He thinks about it then, and can’t stop looking further into the matter. Can’t stop remembering all those times, of his hyung making sure that they were really complimenting him. Asking for attention, sometimes boldly, sometimes in those cute little gestures of his.

In the way he’d whine quietly, hands waving in the air and tapping softly whatever surface under him to call their attention. He didn’t shout. Couldn’t. Never raised his voice, ever. He was all about little noises and whines and a low voice asking for attention and pouting when he wasn’t receiving it.

Sometimes people asked Yoongi to act cute, and Jungkook was baffled because his hyung was already the cutest.

When they finish their piano lesson, Jungkook says—“hyung, hyung you’re so talented, thank you for teaching me. You’re so good,” and Yoongi, oh, his charming little hyung looks away. Bashful, pretty pale cheeks taking the pink color of the roses at dawn.

“Do you,” Yoongi mutters, plays with his hands before stilling and flushing harder. “do you really think so?”

Jungkook doesn’t have half the self-control of his hyungs. Leans close to the little man, and presses their lips together in a sweet kiss. It leaves Yoongi brighter than ever, eyelashes fluttering, and so goddamn cute. “yeah. You’re a good boy, hyung,”

The stars in Yoongi’s eyes shine just as brightly as the little specks of beauty in his delighted expression.

His hyung—his hyung’s a baby boy. The prettiest, sweetest of them all.

[lavellington]

My Top 10 DGHDA fics

Since this lil fandom is expanding with the advent of season 2 (and since we are all still REELING from yesterday’s phenomenal episode oh my GOD), I thought I’d rave a bit about my favourite fics. I know if you’ve been in the fandom any length of time then you’ve already read all of these, but rec lists never hurt, especially with new faces popping up! 

Please note, this is a list of my personal favourites, and therefore is very biased in favour of Brotzly, and very biased in a multitude of other ways. There are lots of other great fics on ao3 as well, I’m just very otp-focused. 

(Also, I decided I wasn’t going to have anyone on here twice, but I have both inky and neko on here twice because they have written such a high number of iconic fics)

1. Universal Truths by inkyfishes ( @inkyfishes​ )

Author Summary:

“...Very long story short, until yesterday, it hailed as my greatest case: one of deception, danger, double-crosses, and an all-round perversion of high emotion and - dare I say it - romance…”

What do horses, robots, time-travel, false identities, alternate universes, flagrant homosexuality and the University of Cambridge have in common? Probably not much, but it's all Todd Brotzman has to work with after he falls through a hole in space and time, arriving at St. Cedd’s College for the first day of Svlad Cjelli (not yet notoriously known as Dirk Gently). There's a case to be solved, but it refuses to start. For both Todd and Svlad, and Dirk and Farah, events unfold in exactly the way you'd expect at Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency.

(This work is canon-compliant as per the end of Season 1. It refers to canon set out in the two Dirk Gently novels, the Dirk Gently 2010 TV Series, the Dirk Gently Comics "The Salmon of Doubt" and the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, but none of that is needed to understand the work.)

My gushing:

It’s a close call, since there is a lot of great stuff in this fandom, but this is my personal favourite Dirk Gently fic. The ambition and scope of this story absolutely blows my mind. It unites pretty much every form of Dirk Gently, from the original novels up to the most recent BBCA version which forms the main focus of the story, and its take on the characters is both original and convincing. Beautifully written, funny, sad, and with romantic tension that will knock your socks off. This is an epic journey. 

2. The Dolphin Paradox by nekosmuse ( @nekosmuse​ )

Author Summary:

Having lost his job at the Perriman Grand, Todd takes a job selling vintage vinyl to unappreciative hipsters while trying to put his life back together. Dirk Gently is a somewhat regular customer. That is, until Dirk can fix the timeline and get Todd his memories back.

The Record Store AU that's not a Record Store AU.

My gushing:

I’m still so grateful to have been a part of the fandom while this was in progress. Waiting for the updates, which were phenomenal every time, and watching the story unfold, was such a blast. Even if you’re wary of AUs, I recommend you give this a try. The slightly different version of Todd is so interesting and the love story is so very sweet. Not to mention the plot is riveting and clever. Fandom classic, must read.

3. you can break a thing, but you cannot always afterward guide it into the shape you want by cosmicocean, princessparadox ( @cosmicoceanfic​, @princessparadoxical​ )

Author Summary:

He does not think about home. The memories feel like they burn holes in his mind.

AU where every Blackwing subject is a changeling, except for one: an abducted fae, who will answer to no name but Icarus.

My gushing:

Dirk is a fae! This fic unites the sci-fi sensibilities of the first season with magic and mythology in a way that now feels kind of prophetic, given the events and tone of the second season. It’s gorgeously, gorgeously written, with an intense soulmate vibe that is counterbalanced wonderfully by top notch banter. All the characters shine so brightly in this, but powerful yet vulnerable Dirk is my favourite part. Frigging epic.

4. objects in mirror may be closer than they appear by sharlook 

( @aceabed​ )

Author Summary:

You’re alone, with your arms wrapped tight around a pillow at god knows what time in the night, and there are tears running down your face because you can’t seem to stop thinking about it, not even in your dreams.

And then clutching your covers you get an idea.

(In which Dirk has nightmares about Blackwing, goes to Todd for help, and is really, really, really in love.)

My gushing:

This fic absolutely blindsided me, with the kind of writing that seems quiet and delicately wrought, but is simultaneously incredibly powerful and poignant. A wonderful portrayal of Dirk dealing with his traumas and anxieties, while being very in love with Todd. May make you cry.  I have so much love for this story, and so much admiration for the prose. Achingly beautiful.

5. split the secret up by piggy09

Author Summary:

He asks if Dirk can hear it and Dirk just laughs, the sound reassuringly human.

Well, not reassuringly. Reassuringly would mean Todd had to be reassured.

It’s just – it sounds human. Which is good. Because Dirk is human. Definitely.

My gushing:

Fic in which the Blackwing subjects are not quite human. Featuring eldritch!Dirk. This story is beautifully, meticulously written, and very evocative and unsettling. Yet Dirk is still somehow the sweetest eldritch abomination I’ve ever heard of.

6. Blood Is Thicker Than Water (But You Know What's Even Thicker? Cookie Dough. Tastes Better, Too.) by DontOffendTheBees ( @dont-offend-the-bees​ )

Author Summary:

'“Dirk… you know how to make cookies, right?”

The detective glanced between Todd and the ingredients, brow furrowing. “Actually, I was rather hoping you did…”

Todd sighed. He was gonna need another beer. “Let’s Google it.”'

In which Dirk and Todd ill-advisedly try to bake cheer-up cookies for Farah at 3am, and maybe confront some feelings in the process. Fluffy, very lightly angsty anonymous prompt fill, rated teen for a spot of language and mild drunkenness.

My gushing:

I found it very difficult to pick one of Helen’s fics, but in the end I went with this, the first instalment of the baking series, because it is a gift (although I also highly recommend her big bang fic). The dialogue is insanely adorable, it’s perfectly in character, and it exactly satisfies my craving for sweet, domestic fluff. Rendered all the more plausible by the beautiful friendship we’ve seen between Todd, Dirk, and Farah in season 2. :’)

7. Piranha in the Stream of Creation by sarkywoman ( @sarkywoman​ )

Author Summary:

"We got tuned into each other's radio stations. Let's say that. I got to walk through life ending others and she got the patterns. But it's not all right. Sometimes we're muddled. I'm never sure if I'm doing the right thing. "

Role-Swap AU. Dirk is the holistic assassin, Bart the detective.

My gushing:

The summary above says it all, really. This is such an interesting premise, and I was so happy to see it so well-executed in this fic. Dirk and Bart are very different, and yet still somehow very in-character. A fascinating read from start to finish, and flips your initial ideas on their head in much the same way as the show. I love my holistic children in this story.

8. The Furthest City Light by nekosmuse ( @nekosmuse​ )

Author Summary:

Dirk Gently (as he's taken to calling himself) has spent most of his life in Blackwing custody. In that time absolutely nothing of any interest has happened. Instead, a good deal of not-very-good or possibly even very-bad things have happened. These mostly involved a number of people in white coats poking and prodding him while making him guess at numbers. Outside of these unwanted visitors, the vast majority of Dirk's time is spent alone. And then one day a technician leads Dirk into a room where a boy around his age sits behind a table, looking sullen and perhaps a little nervous. Dirk likes him immediately.

Alternate Meeting AU, in which 21 year old Dirk meets 20 year old Todd while still in Blackwing custody.

My gushing:

This story will pluck at your heartstrings, while simultaneously making you want to beat up Riggins even more than you probably already did. Young Dirk and Todd are so convincingly written here - just a tad more vulnerable, more raw than in the show, but still good for each other in so many ways. Dirk in particular will make you cry. Stunningly written as you would expect from neko.

9. A Pattern of Errors by coloursflyaway ( @coloursflyaway )

Author summary:

Dirk picks Todd up for a road trip he never planned to go on, with a red cabriolet and a bright smile and a thousand places to go. And although Todd doesn't know what he expected, he definitely gets more than he bargained for.

My gushing:

Beautiful multi-chapter road trip fic, featuring soft boys holding hands, emotional self-sabotage, and eventual declarations of love. Very calming, dreamy, and emotional.

10. Pray for the Thunder and the Rain by inkyfishes ( @inkyfishes)

Author Summary:

A Farah-centric slice of a possible future.

Everything has gone wrong. Everything is broken. Farah works through her anxiety whilst beginning their lives on the run. Her place in the universe is, as yet, undecided.

(Set immediately after the end of Season 1. Written before airing of Season 2.)

My gushing:

Farah Farah Farah!! A very convincing look at what might have happened post the clusterfuck ending of season 1. This fic is so beautiful and captures Farah’s voice WONDERFULLY, with some bonus Faranda just to make it perfect.

[storybookhj]

“If Not Later, When?”

The Cam was crowded with punts. I handed in my paper in the morning, so I supposed summer officially began "now", and that might be the last time I met with my classmates. It was the only time that we ever punted together. Alex kept saying that we should do this again, maybe sometime before the graduation ceremony. We never did.

It was an impeccably sunny day in Cambridge. The flock of summer tourists have not arrived, so we student-civilians still have the river most to ourselves. We slid past the golden-hued castles of old colleges and marvelled at their majestic beauty; occasionally our punt would bump into another, and everyone would be waving their arms in different directions amidst kind laughter, and the boat would just spin around, blocking more passengers. Yet no one seemed agitated. The term was over, and we had all the time in the world. I could take in each of your faces, fellow punters, as we passed by each other in slow motion, and I would raise my champagne glass to you.

We ran into a group of drunk undergrads next to the Bridge of Sighs. They had to be undergrad kids. One of them dangled a bottle over the till and kept chanting “Kiss the punt!”, like a dare, or a tease—I couldn’t quite tell—while the others giggled, peddling messily and splashing water onto their friends. Ducklings and cygnets flocked to their boat as one of them so generously shared bread crumbs with the birds. Sunbeams perched on their flushed faces, fluttering as the punt rocked languorously. We mature grads just stared in uniform silence, secretly relieved at the departure of our infamously insatiable feathered friends. I imagined that I could smell the wine in their hiccups, but perhaps it was just the scent of the scene—sweet and intoxicating and just a tad aggressive. No matter, it would slither away in the next moment, and in the next moment it would slacken and succumb to Time. Crazy kids, Jamie muttered, feigning exasperation. Yeah, I nodded. The young Dionysus they are, basking in the glow of what we once had but had never realized that we had it until this very moment. “And we’d want to call it envy, because to call it regret would break our hearts.”

This is how I’m going to remember this particular afternoon at Cambridge. It tapped on my shoulder, I turned back, and it smiled at me, this piece of memory, as I was reading Call Me by Your Name in the quiet of the night.

It’s not a sophisticated story. Summertime Italy, 17-year-old Italian boy Elio falls in love with 24-year-old American postdoc Oliver who’s invited by Elio’s professor father to work on his manuscripts at their house. Elio pines for Oliver for weeks, recording every conversation, glance and touch he shares with the guest, hoping and fearing that the person of his desire might return his passion. And when Oliver eventually does, it is almost time for him to return to the States. They spend three dreamy days in Rome, and it abruptly ends when Oliver leaves. 15 years later, they meet again in the States. Oliver is married with children while Elio’s love life seems opaque and blurry. Neither forgets that summer that only resides in a parallel universe now. It’s essentially about a first love that lasts only six weeks but takes years to get over with. Or to not get over with.

I came across this book when I was writing my dissertation on Kerouac who loved Marcel Proust who is loved by the author of Call Me by Your Name, Andre Aciman. I wasn’t much of fan of the Proustian style because there seemed no heat behind those excruciating details—or maybe I was just younger and unappreciative. After all, what’s to reminisce about, if you are rushing toward the train station of great expectations, unware of the hard times ahead?

Like an ekphrastic poem of youth and desire, Call Me by Your Name draws your attention to the corporeality of the words which, as if by magic, take on different shades of colours and inflections that resurrect those faded pictures of memory with vividness. The reading process took longer than usual as I kept re-visiting particular passages as the journey went on. The narrative temporality seemed insignificant—time seemed insignificant. I was happily paralyzed in the endless proliferation of descriptive details by the narrator, Elio, who, as I was reading, seemed to sit right next to me, watching Oliver play tennis, swim in a red bathing suit, dance and read. In the first chapter, If Not Later, When?, nothing much happens except for morning jogs, book parties and occasional lazy gatherings at the beach, yet in Elio’s mind volcanoes erupt when Oliver so much as smiles:

[…] and his eyes, which, when the other, kinder gaze fell on you, came like the miracle of the Resurrection. You could never stare long enough but needed to keep staring to find out why you couldn't. […]—all these started the summer Oliver came into our house. They are embossed on every song that was a hit that summer, in every novel I read during and after his stay, on anything from the smell of rosemary on hot days to the frantic rattle of the cicadas in the afternoon—smells and sounds that I’d grown up with and known every year of my life until then but that had suddenly turned on me and acquired an inflection forever colored by the events of that summer.

Both long to take a step forward, to say how they really feel about each other, but they are also afraid of the rejection, the shattering of fantasies and the day of departure. I read it in the way just as they approach each other—with trepidation, with an ominous feeling that it will end, and the end is upon us:

Did I want him to act? Or would I prefer a lifetime of longing provided we both kept this little Ping-Pong game going: not knowing, not-not-knowing, not-not-not-knowing? Just be quiet, say nothing, and if you can't say "yes," don't say "no," say "later."

“The trick to love is to never let it find you,” someone once sang ruefully. Unfortunately, Elio and Oliver, who find each other, are compelled to graduate from this summer spell. I was saddened, but revived somehow by the powers that made every heartbeat and breath a memorable event. Spend a few hours with these two orphans of love and desire, and perhaps revisit moments of youthful languor in your life, and tell yourself—“We had stars, you and I. And this is given once only.”

[jaeminlore]

How Monsta X Would Kiss You

-

how are you gonna be face to face with hyunwoo's precious cheeks and not?? cup?? them?? like imagine you wake up and he’s still asleep so you just kinda roll onto your stomach and cup his cheeks, waking him with soft pecks. nd he kinda groans into the kiss bc why are you waking him up but also he isn’t mad abt it. i see hyunwoo as a waist guy like i think his hands are immediately going to go to your back/waist/sides under your shirt bc that’s one of his favorite places to touch you. now to the kiss!!!! since he’s laying down he’s probably going to find a way to turn you over so he’s the one above you. and while one hand is planted on your waist the other will probably go to cup your cheek. i said i was going to get to the kiss a whole runaway sentence ago i’m so sorry. okay so his lips seem extra soft? and since it’s morning it’s probably such a slow, lazy makeout session but like who’s complaining?? probably bites your lips gently just because he really likes your lips and esp how red they can get when he applies a lot of pressure to them. like he’s soft but he’s also rough as he begins to get more confident ya feel?

just imagine this is you and not kihyun

wow!!! hoseok my bias wrecker is next!! if you ever got the chance to kiss him don’t tell me you wouldn’t want to sit on those holy thighs bc i get it!! i understand!! he’s probably the type to sit on the end of the bed and pull you onto his lap. plays with your hair when you kiss. likes to rake his fingers through it depending on how soft or rough the kiss it. like sometimes it’s just soft twirls but other times he’s like actually tugging on your hair and it’s like !!!calm down pls!!! he’s a very rough kisser. he doesn’t mean to be, like he’s not exceptionally dominant, he just gets rlly into a kiss and he wants to explore all of you and you can’t do that in a soft kiss!1!1!!11!!!! but yeah he also probably whines into the kiss i’m just saying. uses a lot of tongue but in a classy way y'all know what i’m talking about. i don’t even know what i’m talking abt i’ve never kissed anyone in my life

okay now for the sweetest boy in the world,,, minhyuk is probably the most playful kisser. this boy is so snuggly like it always starts w cuddling bc that’s all you do when you’re with minhyuk (he just loves cuddles okay we know this it’s fAcT) and like you’ll probably be curled up in his lap when you initiate it like you’ll just lean up and press a lil kiss on his beautiful jawline bc you can’t reach his lips and he has the audacity to start giggling. like. he’s just a giddy puppy. but don’t think he can’t be serious bc when he actually gets into the kiss it’s wonderful… like tilts your chin up w his finger and thumb y'all know the move and just kind of slowly molds his lips around yours. he likes to kiss pretty classically,,,, he doesn’t rlly care how he kisses you bc it’s you and he loves kissing your nose just as much as he loves making out w you he isn’t picky. smiles a lot during kisses and probably laughs against your lips, causing you to slap his chest or smth cute like that idk.

hey guess what i wrote everyone’s before kihyun’s bc he’s the bias and i wanted to save him for last tbh. okay. so like the visual. you know how kihyun has been wearing black skinny jeans + tee shirt combo lately? yes. imagine that and tell me you aren’t going to grab his waist. right i thought so. okay but listen kihyun is probably a rlly passionate kisser. like he’s had a long day at the practice room and he’s frustrated but when he gets home you’re smiling asking him if he wants to order out pizza or chicken and he just,, kinda,, walks forward and cups your cheeks, pouring all of his frustration into the kiss. probably scrunched up his entire face when he kisses like his forehead is all crinkly how precious. bumps his nose against yours a lot when the two of you kiss because he can’t keep his head still and he doesn’t rlly want to ya know. and your hands are on his slender waist and if you squeeze it there is a very high chance he is going to fall even more in love w you. when he pulls away his eyebrows are knitted together, his eyes are closed like he’s trying to memorize the moment, and his lips are still pursed. a beautiful sight only you get to witness. bless.

okay so for hyungwon my sister gave me some advice for him which is fISHY bc her bias is minhyuck and she barely mentioned him but oKaY we shall start with the actual kiss like we never do bc i suck. okay. hyungwon has some of the nicest lips i’ve ever seen but they’re pretty long sideways so i feel like he’d be just a tad bit sloppy. not bad sloppy,, just extra saliva traded here and there. um but like imagine he’s in a hoodie and so you grab the hood and pull him closer to you bc sometimes he likes to just stare into the distance like a rare pepe meme and you gotta get him outta that dark place ya know. slideshow a: he has extremely nice hands. that being said, he loves to get handsy with you and he probably can never keep his hands still for a second,, it’s wonderful. likes to trail his lips down your neck and gently bite your shoulders. if he leaves a hickey he’ll probably run his tongue over it. kisses with him are all over the place tbh but not unappreciated any less.

y'all already know who it is!!! my man jooheon!!! tbh he’s probably going to do the classic™ which is pinning you up against the wall and yeah it’s cliche but it’s jooheon so it balances out i assume. in the end he isn’t actually cliche bc he doesn’t pin your hands up above your head he likes your hands on his skin too much for that wink wonk anyway he is probably a breathy kisser. likes to press his entire body against yours,, he just loves body contact okay. you like your hands on his amazing neck and he definitely isn’t complaining because your touch lights him on fire like it doesn’t matter where your hands are, his skin is always ignited by your touch. how flattering so yeah he’s probably not a rough kisser but he’s also not soft either so… firm? he’s probably so good at maneuvering his lips and it’s rlly hot. i meant hot like the temperament but you can take it as you will. um if you kiss down his neck he’s probably going to be on cloud nine bc as much as your touch ignites him your kiss ignites him 1000x more and wow… just kiss him more pls.

changkyun is amazing. now that that is out of the way,,, changkyun probably loves it when you are more dominant in the kiss. like i don’t think he wants it all the time but he definitely isn’t opposed to it. probably sits on the arm of the couch and pulls you closer until you’re standing between his legs. you probably hold his shoulders or smth and lean down to kiss him. he has his hands firmly on your waist and he doesn’t really move them aside from pressing his thumbs into your hips but who’s complaining. growls into kisses esp when you pull back bc he wants to keep kissing you. (sometimes you pull back on purpose just to hear it you already know). he’s a really clean kisser i assume. like he doesn’t use too much tongue, just enough to keep you on your toes. sometimes he slips a cheeky hand up your shirt but not always. probably kisses your nose afterwards and smiles rlly cutely.

a/n: I feel like this one wasn’t as good as the others so sorry abt that

[mutantimagines]

Losing Spirit (Mikey x Reader)

I saw post about Michelangelo this morning that really fueled this fire...Sorry if its bad, a mixture of an over zealous writer and an active imagination caused this :| (The zubat was correct, this is more 2012 mikey then anything, its been changed from 2016 to 2012 :)

He’d learned to just do what his brothers wanted sometimes, it would avoid him getting yelled at or smacked around by Raphael. To be frank you were sick of watching your best friend slowly lose his spirit, keeping quiet was getting hard but you knew better then to say anything. The first time you yelled at Raph to quit picking on his brother Raph just turned it around and made fun of Mikey for having you stand up for him.  Your fists shaking as Leo was sternly telling Mikey off about something funny he’d said trying to break the tension that surrounded the brothers. Leo was saying something along the lines of ‘Shut up Mikey’ mixed with ‘Grow up will you?’ You didn’t care anymore this was absolutely the final straw you couldn’t stand by and watch him crumble. Not after all you’d been through with Mikey, not after seeing all he’d done for you. He was so much more then your best friend he truly was, not wanting to tell anyone you kept your relationship secret from his brothers. If it spared him the jokes and the cruelty from them then you’d do it for the rest of your life.  But that’s not how it all started out....

It all began a long time ago, you and him hadn’t met yet and life was grey for the  both of you. You had two sisters that had the world at their feet and took every step for granted while you had to scrape at the dirt they left behind just to survive. Tall beautiful and powerful girls, one a Trophy wife to a football player and the other was the queen of mean at your high school. While you weren’t any of that not that you really wanted to be at least, you stayed in at night studying to earn your degree in order to become the best that you could be. Though sometimes they got to you the constant teasing and pretending you didn’t exist left some bumps and bruises at times.  When you got to worked up you climbed out onto the fire escape and up to the roof, feeling the cool air on your skin and the noise of the passing cars below somehow soothed you. Apparently you weren’t alone in this anymore, The quiet hiccups of a long cry recently ended is what drew you to the figure sitting behind the large box sitting on the roof.  Not caring what was just on the other side you leaned against the cool brick wall and just sat there, both your sorrow mixing together as your hand crept around the coroner to clutch the large soft hand that grip the jagged concrete. Tight grip overcame you as you sat in the silence and both let all the feelings bottled up inside just come out for a sweet release of both pain and passion. Though every time you tried to sneak a peek at your new found friend he would disperse into the thick darkness that plagued the dimly light buildings.

Until one night that perhaps he got pushed to far or this day was so bad he couldn’t stand any longer, your day must’ve matched his. The force he ran into you with was sheer strength as you clutched you to his chest and brought you to the ground with him. the shaking of his body didn’t make i go unseen that he obviously wasn’t human but it made you pity him a tad bit more. running your hands across his head you sat in silence as your arms wrapped themselves around him in turn. Whispering words of comfort in hopes to quell the storm of feelings erupting,

“It’s gonna be okay i swear, its never going to get worse then this ya know? once you’ve hit rock bottom there’s only one way to go! unless your holding the shove then there’s no one else to dig a deeper hole you get me?...I know how you feel though, you’re angry because no one will listen to you, even though you cry out for help its like they’ve suddenly become deaf. My sisters are the same, always thinking they’re better then me though i’m not saying they aren’t just i wish they weren’t so cocky about it. They pick on me for everything, especially for being happy because they aren’t. Who cares if your happy, just joking around to lighten the mood gets them all fired up to...-”

“My brothers just don’t get it anymore...i try to make them happy dudette! yet they just won’t listen, its not like i mean to make them mad, i just want to be a family again, before all this shell happened!”

“What happened huh?”

His appearance didn’t startle you, which startled him quite a bit. Your kind smile and open eyes were inviting to him and being vulnerable in a strangers arms was something his brothers would kill him for. Yet he was happy for he had a friend bonus was that you were human and you weren’t afraid of him.

“Sometimes i just wanna make it better, Ya know a joke here and a prank there! a life of crime fighting really does damage to a turtle’s spirit. Gotta make it all better, but...*sigh* looks like i’m just making it worse for everyone. maybe they don’t need me anymore, Leo he’s the leader and Raph is the strongest Donnie is no doubt the smartest, What does that make me though the annoying little brother..”

“It makes you what you are, nothing wrong with that sweetie. There’ll always be darkness in this world and some of us are in charge of bringing it into the light, most of the time it go unappreciated though”

And that’s just how it went...

But now you couldn’t stand by and watch him suffer any longer under his brother’s control and you stormed past Michelangelo and shoved Leonardo hard in his chest. He teetered back but didn’t falter and looked at you with a mixture of anger and shock. 

“SHUT UP FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE LEO AND STEP THE HELL BACK WILL YOU? NOT EVERYONE HAS TO LIVE BY WHAT LEO SAYS GOES, WHO DIED AND MADE YOU KING HEY?!”

“What the shell are you going on about y/n! this is none of your business!”

“Its is my business Leonardo and you’re making it my business, I’m sick of how you all treat your brother. I wish you could see how it affects him when i’m alone with him at night, i wish you could feel the pain he goes through when each foul words you dish out to him leaves deep gouges in his skin, i wish you were the one who had to pick up the pieces when he falls apart because maybe then you’d see just how much damage you do.”

“Y/n-”

“No! NO! you do not get to silence me, listen to me won’t you? Leonardo, It not just you, i’m not blaming you alone. I blame all three of you for all this and you share the burden of knowing you hurt your brother more then any of the villains in new York...I love Michelangelo more then the sun loves the moon, i wish you could see how i love him and how it tears me apart to see him hurt”

Leonardo and his brothers had fallen silent as Mikey took a step forward and wrapped his arms around your waist. Wiping your tears from behind as he rested his chin on the top of your head and whispering that it you’d done enough. Gazing over at his brothers while planting a soft kiss to your cheek as he broke away and stepped between you and them. 

“Y/n maybe have been a little dramatic dudes but...not all wrong. I’m just trying to make it better, i want us to be brothers again. Be a family...Be happy”

Raphael didn’t say anything but actions spoke louder then words as he stepped forwards first and grabbed his brother by his head and pulling him into his arms. a bone crushing hug was enough to break the thick and deafening silence as Mikey started laughing and shoving at his brother playfully saying his armpits smelled like sewer. It was enough to make Donnie fall into the group hug and pat his younger brother on his back, telling him that it was okay to talk to him anytime he needed to. Stepping forwards you stood besides Leo and looked up at the defeated leader who hung his head in shame,

“Don’t take it out on yourself, somethings can be fixed before they break. Mikey’s a tough cookie but you just need to make the first step Lee”

“Y/n. please Leave, i need a moment with my brothers”

You nodded in agreement and stepped out to leave though as soon as you took your first step out of the lair you were engulfed in familiar warm arms as they tossed you in the air. Spinning you around you faced a grinning Michelangelo as he pressed his lips to yours and lifted you into the air and smiled into the kiss. Relaxing the tension and repeating his actions until he mumbled against you lips and broke the kiss.

“Princess you like playing with fire, give a turtle a warning before you explode! i need to know when my best girl needs her backup!”

“You joker, you know i’ll always stand up for you

Pressing his forehead against yours as you both relaxed against each others warm bodies, a deep breath and a moment of silence is all you needed just to feel his love.

“I know angel cakes, I love you, So much more then you know y/n”

“I’ll always love you Michelangelo”