#the show and ended up with nothing really fixed in the end of the show deserved to have so many more fix its

[puckingeccedentesiast]

| Bleeding Hearts, Bleeding Scars |

a/n this one hurt, i really enjoyed writing it though. i hope you enjoy reading it just as much! i am sorry for not writing heaps, i am trying to fix that. Kudos to @cupidbedsy because i showed her a snippet and she told me it was good so i finished it.

warnings: hospitals, but not super bad. angst, angst, angst. a little bit of toxic!quinn at the end maybe??

Their sirens sounded simultaneously, one symbolic of achievement, a known sound tethered with a joyous moment of redemption or extending the winning. The other siren, widely known as well, everyone knew the wailing of this siren and parted ways for it to pass with ease, emotions crashing in a tumultuous wave behind it.

His sirens were flashing blue and green, spiralling around him beautifully. Her sirens flashed blue and red, then her everything went black.

~/> </~

Quinn Hughes had spent his life moving at an electrifying speed – on the ice, everything made sense. Every pass, every shift, every calculated risk no matter how detrimental was measured and precise. Off the ice however, life had its way of digging an edge in, causing things to hurtle out of control.

The call had come obscenely late at night, just after another hard-fought game. Quinn was exhausted, his body was bruised, but none of that mattered when his phone screen lit up with an unfamiliar number. He looked at the number but picked up regardless, he was greeted with a young feminine voice, "Good Evening, this is Maddy from the Vancouver General Hospital am I speaking with a Mr. Hughes?"

The room around him blurred, the air rushing out of his lungs before the words even registered. "Yeah.. uh- yes that's me. Mr. Hughes, well Quinn is easier but- why are you calling?"

"A miss Y/N L/N had you listed as her emergency contact, are you of any relation to her?" the attendant's voice was methodical, almost as if she'd done this thousands of times before. News flash – she had.

"Yes. Not by blood but I'm her boyfriend of four years." Quinn's brain was turning, almost as much as his stomach. The panic induced nausea along with the large pizza and cheese bites he previously consumed were doing nothing to help with his clarity.

"She was in an accident. We need you to come in immediately please."

~/> </~

He couldn't remember how he got to the hospital. He wasn't sure if he even stopped at red lights or if he simply drove on autopilot, propelled by pure fear. When he arrived, it was almost surreal. Bright fluorescent lights hummed overhead, an artificial sterility, accompanied by fuming cleaning chemicals filling the space. The waiting room smelt like antiseptic and coffee, but Quinn barely noticed.

He approached the desk slowly, a young attendant in maroon scrubs sat behind the desk, tapping away at his keyboard boredly.

"Excuse me, I got called my girlfriend was in an accident." Quinn was ninety percent sure he fumbled over half his words but that didn't matter right now, not when you were potentially hurt.

"What's her name?" The young male asked, continuing the tacky chewing of his gum.

"Y/N L/N."

"Room four, just through those doors and down the hallway, second door on your right."

Quinn wasted no time, pushing through the large wooden doors, the metal hand plates cold on his already numb hands. Quinn found the first doctor he could, who was conveniently stood outside your room, he had a thousand questions to ask. That was before that doctor looked at him, face solem and voice measured. The words were a foreign language – brain injury, severe concussion, amnesia. Quinn shook his head, almost like he was shaking off the truth, as if denying it would rewrite the narrative.

"She doesn't– she doesn't remember anything?" His voice cracked, and he hated the vulnerability that seeped into it.

The doctor hesitated, adjusting the stethoscope sitting around his neck. "It's hard to say the extent of memory loss just yet. She has retrograde amnesia, meaning she doesn't recall recent events. Long-term memories might still be intact, but we won't know until she wakes up and begins cognitive assessments."

Quinn swallowed hard, the saliva feeling like a brick sliding down his throat, his breathing was shallow, hands clammy. He had spent the past few years building a life with her – countless nights spent wrapped in whispered conversations, shared laughter, stolen longing kisses before road trips. And now? Now she might wake up and not know who he was at all.

When he was finally allowed in, his breath caught in his throat. She looked so small in the hospital bed, tubes and wires hooked up to her, surrounding her like a web. Her face was pale, a stark contrast to the deep bruising along her temple. He took a shaky step forward, then another, then another until he was close enough to reach for her hand.

"Hey," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. The silence stretched between them, thick with uncertainty. He squeezed her hand gently. "I'm here."

For a moment he held his breath, his heart hammering as she blinked up at him in confusion.

Her lips parted, her voice hoarse when she spoke. "Who... are you?"

And just like that, the world he knew shattered beneath him.

Quinn felt the breath he had been holding escape in a sharp exhale. His grip on her hand loosened slightly, like his body had momentarily forgotten how to function.

Who are you?

The words echoed in his head, louder than any goal horn, driving sharper than any loss.

She was staring at him, waiting. There was no recognition in her eyes. No warmth. No flicker of familiarity.

Her swallowed against the lump in his throat and forced himself to speak. It's me. It's Quinn."

She blinked, her expression blank. "Quinn..." she tested the name like it was foreign, like it meant nothing. And maybe right now, to her, it didn't. His heart clenched painfully.

Before he could find the words to say something, anything, the doctor stepped forward, placing a firm but gentle hand on Quinn's shoulder. "She just woke up. It will take time for her to process things. Try not to overwhelm her."

Try not to overwhelm her?

Quinn wanted to scream, his entire world had just unravelled and he was supposed to act like it was fine.

But it wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine.

“I’ll step out for a few minutes,” the doctor continued, giving Quinn a knowing look. “Take it slow.”

As the door shut behind them, an uncomfortable silence settled between him and the girl who used to know everything about him. The girl who used to be his home.

Now, she was looking at him like he was a stranger.

Quinn forced himself to sit down in the chair beside her bed. His hands rested on his knees, fidgeting, like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “You, um… you were in an accident,” he said carefully, as if the wrong words might send her slipping further away. “You hit your head pretty bad. The doctors said it might take time for everything to come back.”

She furrowed her brows slightly, as if trying to make sense of his words. “How long?”

Quinn hesitated. “They… they don’t know for sure.”

She exhaled, her shoulders slumping. “So I just… forgot?”

He could see the frustration creeping into her expression, the fear she was trying to hide. He wanted to reach for her, to hold her the way he always had, but now—now, he wasn’t sure if he even could.

“Not everything,” he tried to reassure her, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. “Your long-term memories might still be there. It’s just… recent ones that are missing.”

Her gaze flickered back to him, studying him. “And you’re… my boyfriend?”

Quinn let out a soft, almost bitter chuckle. “Yeah. For a while now.”

She bit her lip, looking away. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Quinn’s chest tightened. “Don’t. You don’t have to be sorry.”

But God, he wished she remembered.

He wished she remembered the nights spent tangled in his sheets, whispering secrets neither of them had ever told anyone else. He wished she remembered the way he would pull her into his arms after a tough game, how she always knew exactly what to say to quiet his mind. He wished she remembered the road trips, the laughter, the way she used to look at him like he was her favorite thing in the world.

Instead, she was looking at him like he was nothing more than a stranger sitting beside her hospital bed.

“Can you…” she hesitated, before meeting his eyes. “Can you tell me about us?”

His throat felt dry, his heart aching in ways he didn’t know it could.

But he nodded.

Because even if she couldn’t remember their love, he would remind her.

No matter how long it took.

~/> </~

Quinn took a slow breath, steadying himself. Tell her about us. The words felt heavier than they should have, because how could he possibly condense years of love into a single conversation?

But he had to try.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I can do that.”

She watched him expectantly, waiting for him to start, waiting for him to give her pieces of a life she couldn’t remember.

“We met three years ago,” he began, his voice laced with nostalgia. “It was at a team event. You were there with a friend, and I was… well, I was awkward as hell.” A small chuckle left his lips, but she didn’t laugh—she only tilted her head slightly, listening.

“You had this ridiculous habit of calling me ‘Mr. Hockey Superstar’ because you said my name sounded too serious. I pretended to hate it, but I didn’t.” He swallowed hard, his fingers gripping his jeans. “You were smart. Funny. You made everything feel lighter, like nothing was too big or too overwhelming.

“You hated hockey at first,” he continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “You thought it was all fights and chaos. But then you started coming to my games, and suddenly, you knew more about my stats than I did.”

She let out a quiet breath. “Did I really?”

“Yeah,” Quinn nodded. “And you made it a habit of roasting me after bad games.”

Something flickered in her expression—maybe amusement, maybe a whisper of familiarity—but it disappeared just as quickly.

He pushed forward.

“You were there for every milestone. My first season, my first playoff run, every high and low.” He hesitated before adding, “And I was there for yours. Every late-night breakdown, every dream you chased, every moment you thought you weren’t good enough—I was there.”

She was silent for a long time, her fingers twitching slightly against the sheets. “It sounds… nice,” she murmured finally.

Quinn let out a soft, shaky laugh. “It was more than nice.”

She blinked at him, her brows knitting together. “I wish I could remember.”

Quinn’s chest tightened. “Me too.”

The days that followed were an excruciating mix of hope and heartache. Quinn spent every free moment by her side, trying to reintroduce her to their life together. He brought photos, videos, little things she used to love—a battered hoodie she always stole from him, her favorite snacks, even an old playlist she had made for long road trips.

Some days were better than others.

Some days, she would smile at something he said, and for a split second, he swore he saw a glimpse of the girl he loved. Other days, she would stare at him with quiet frustration, as if trying to force the memories to return, only to come up empty.

The worst days were when she looked exhausted, when her eyes were filled with something close to guilt. “I feel like I’m letting you down,” she admitted once, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not,” Quinn assured her immediately, but the words felt hollow. Because no matter how much he tried to be patient, no matter how much he reminded himself that this wasn’t her fault—he couldn’t deny the ache in his chest every time she failed to recognize a piece of their past.

It wasn’t fair.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to think that way, but he did. It wasn’t fair that he remembered everything while she remembered nothing.

And he was terrified—what if she never did?

A month passed. Then two.

She was healing, physically at least. The bruises had faded, the stitches were gone, and her doctors had finally cleared her to go home.

But home wasn’t the same.

She was staying in their apartment, but it didn’t feel like hers. She walked through the space carefully, like a guest, like someone trying to find their footing in a house full of strangers. Quinn tried not to let it get to him, but it did.

She didn’t wear his hoodies anymore.

She didn’t instinctively reach for his hand when they walked side by side.

She still laughed at his dry humor, still scrunched her nose when she concentrated too hard on something, still bit her lip when she was nervous—but she didn’t remember that those were all the little things that made him fall in love with her in the first place.

And then, one night, it all came to a breaking point.

“I think I should get my own place,” she said hesitantly over dinner.

Quinn froze, his grip tightening around his fork.

She bit her lip, playing with the hem of her sleeve. “I just… I feel like I’m taking up space here. I know this used to be our home, but—”

“It still is,” Quinn interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended.

She winced. “Quinn—”

“No, I get it,” he said quickly, pushing his chair back and standing up. His heart was pounding. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep pretending this didn’t hurt like hell. “You don’t remember me. You don’t remember us. And now you want to leave. I get it.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Quinn ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I just—” He swallowed. “I don’t know how to do this.”

For the first time since the accident, her face softened in a way that almost resembled the girl he used to know. “Me neither,” she admitted.

Quinn let out a breath, shaking his head. “I don’t want to pressure you. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to remember just for me.” He looked down. “But I miss you. I miss us. And I don’t know how to be around you when you don’t even know who I am.”

The room was quiet for a long time.

Then, slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing over his hand.

It was tentative. Small. But it was something.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

Quinn let out a bitter chuckle. “Too late for that.”

She frowned, her hand tightening around his. “I may not remember… but I know that I don’t like seeing you like this.”

He met her gaze, something fragile and raw settling between them.

And then, in the softest voice, she whispered, “Can we start over?”

Quinn blinked. “Start over?”

She nodded. “I may not remember how we fell in love the first time. But maybe… maybe you could help me do it again.”

Quinn’s breath caught.

And for the first time in months, something like hope flickered inside him.

He exhaled, squeezing her hand. “Yeah,” he whispered. “We can do that.”

Over the next few weeks, they did exactly that.

Quinn took her to the places that had once been theirs—a late-night drive to the spot overlooking the city skyline, the tiny coffee shop tucked away in a quiet street where they used to sit for hours, the pier where she once made him ride the Ferris wheel despite his protests.

He told her stories.

About the time she pranked him by putting salt in his coffee. About the way she would steal his hats just to annoy him. About the night he first realized he was in love with her, when she was singing off-key in the kitchen, twirling around in his hoodie like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Some memories made her laugh. Others made her tilt her head in quiet contemplation, as if trying to pull something from the depths of her mind.

And then, one night, as they sat on the couch watching a movie, something changed.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, so naturally that it caught him off guard. His heart pounded, but he didn’t move, afraid that if he did, she would pull away.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she murmured, “I don’t remember everything yet.”

Quinn swallowed. “That’s okay.”

“But I think…” She hesitated, then lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I think I’m starting to remember how it felt to love you.”

Quinn sucked in a breath, his eyes searching hers. “Yeah?”

She nodded, a small, tentative smile forming.

It wasn’t everything.

But it was something.

And maybe—just maybe—they could build something new, together.

[will80sbyers]

I kept getting nervous about how the GA would react to a byler endgame. Would they see it coming or would they think it’s out of nowhere or would they grow to root for it and I recently realized after looking at some comments that people mostly just want an answer that makes more sense than the one they are currently getting.

People just want something they can fully believe in without any questions. They are TOLD that Mike loves/wants El but they don’t see it and they’re getting tired of it or some people still find them cute together they just want Mike to fix his bad behavior so El isn’t upset. I think that a Byler endgame would show to those people that yes Mike can be lovely and attentive and romantic and be a good boyfriend—just not with El. Once people see that emotion and love from Mike, that they so desperately needed to see from him when he was with El, directed towards Will I think it will just click in their heads like, “OH! That’s why he was acting weird and defensive”. Once they see that El isn’t hurting without Mike and that she doesn’t blame him and that they do love each other just not in that way I think people will feel satisfied with the outcome or at least be like “Damn, I did not see that coming but it makes so much sense now that I see it”. I feel like Mike and Will are going to be so undeniably in love that even if people are on the fence about it they will still be more on board with it than M*elven because they will finally be able to see that love and desire they needed to see to believe in a relationship. They’ll be able to see how natural and genuine they are and that they just fit so well together as a couple. I feel like it’ll almost feel like an obvious progression to some people like they were always supposed to end up together because Mike’s feelings for Will aren’t brand new they are constant and are consistently getting stronger and stronger every season. Their relationship only feels weird or off when they hold back on those feelings out of obvious fear. Once Mike makes his feelings more outwardly known to the audience and they can finally be more open and honest with each other I think I’ll just feel like the right path for their characters. The only path that truly makes sense. Hopefully people will finally be able to sympathize with Mike and understand how much he was struggling and grow to love him again. I can definitely see the GA rooting for them throughout s5 in a —I-saw-absolutely-nothing-to-suggest-a-Mike-and-Will-pairing-from-prior-seasons-but-I’m-so-down-for-this-because-Mike-actually-seems-in-love-this-time-and-like-himself-again-and-Will-is-finally-happy—kind of way. Hopefully we get a good Mike and El friendship scene so people can see that they do need/love each other that it just got too complicated when they tried to make their platonic feelings romantic.

Then people can go back and watch the series again to find all of the clues and see that Mike’s focus has always been Will. Obviously everything will be easier to catch watching it all over again because they have the answers now. They’ll be able to compare Mike with El vs Mike with Will and see how it really was right under their noses the whole time.

Yeah, the only ones mad about it are gonna be melvins and homophobic people, I don't think Mike knows what he feels or that he was exactly conscious about it, I think he always felt weird/different about Will but didn't get it yet... and I don't think Mike has lied about anything, I think he had a crush on El when he was little and whatever "wrong" he did is mainly because he's 14... but I also think they have been building up to Byler since s1 through their friendship, it's easy to write it in the show as endgame because they have a solid base and Will is already in love with Mike! ❤️

[worstqueerbaittournament]

Submission message for Klance: howdy, would like to submit keith and lance from voltron (lmao)

Submission message for Bechloe: Beca and Chloe from Pitch Perfect (mainly Beca but Bechloe was the ship they baited the most)

Additional propaganda Klance: Now Keith and Lance on the other hand was a whole fucking mess that they then shoehorned in an hetero romance to try and "fix it" but by lord it was bad, everything about voltron is so fucking bad

Anyway this is my Klance propaganda : They were actually bait

Klance's queer baiting by the team was the worst!! We had to deal with NETFLIX ALSO GETTING IN ON THE QUEER BAITING!! If you searched up Kkance during the times for season 6-8, the SHOW WOULD POP UP. The directors would make jokes about it being canon, even Lance's VA got in the joke!

Their queer baiting was the worst for anyone who was even looking for an ounce of queer rep in that show. The only queer rep we got was a man who died after not even 5 minutes on screen, and shoehorned in the credit scene of a gay wedding of a character that was neither Keith nor Lance.

I do not know Agatha and Sophie, so I can't argue that klance was bigger bait or not, I just know voltron was mean lmao. the creators said stuff like "lance will be someone's first choice!" (meaning NOT ending up in a relationship with allura bc she very much chose another guy over him) and heavily implying he would be Keith's 1st choice (or a guy in general bc of point number 2). point number 2: they also released official art showing how super cool and diverse the main cast was! race! gender! LGBT - they had shiro (who was......canon gay but that's a whole other can of worms) and lance hold the sign with LGBT on it and then did absolutely nothing with that w lance at all (he hit on allura, so obvi he's not gay, but at least bi or smt) (UNLESS you count the scenes where he's flirty with keith). I just remember going into the last few seasons being like "klance probably won't be happen be honest with yourself there's like no queer kids shows!! but damn like it so could tho!!! because of how much it's been teased both in the show and by showrunners like I can't have no hope with the way the producers talk about it!" lmao I should have had no hope, but i genuinkey believed there was a possibility it could happen. and actually I discovered after the fact that i think one of the writers for the show who was the main advocate for klance (they had a lot of diff writers for eps, which led to lots of character butchering but ANYWAY) left not terribly long into the show I believe bc he didn't like the direction it was moving in and didn't want to be tied to the show anymore. so it's not like fans just made klance up either - it was written into earlier episodes with the hope and plan to continue developing later, and then just nothing ever happened with it besides INTENSE teasing it to keep queer fans around. esp after shiro's relationship was literally only a flashback and then his fiance thing or whatever got blown up before we even got to watch him interact w shiro as we knew him in present time in s7, so I think they kept being like hmmm klance and the stuff about lance being a first choice before s8 to keep ppl around. also esp bc klancers made up such a big portion of the fan base. then they made a horrible szn and ended it w a flashforward to shiro marrying some random background character who maybe had 1 line? I just remember hitting the flashforward and being like uhhhh who is this dude??? but they did that to hit those diversity points wow first gay marriage in a cartoon or smt idk it doesn't count to me really. so anyway voltron in general is queerbait lol but klance is because it started out as a legit possibility and then they said sike! but only maybe sike bc u guys are mad at us burying our guys in s7 so maybe klance could still happen haha okay now we're serious no it's not happening. anyway I think klance is p bad queerbait and a vote for them is a valid vote, not just u liking the ship.

Here is my really boring and incredibly dry argument for #KLANCESWEEP:

There are countless examples of the Voltron showrunners queerbaiting when it comes to Klance. I will leave that argument and discussion to others. Instead, I would like to focus on why/how I believe Klance is the more significant instance of queerbaiting, despite Johnlock's queerbaiting being markedly more famous.

Queerbaiting is when a shows teases/hints at a character(s) being queer, but then never actually follows through on making the character LGBTQ+. Queerbaiting is, above all, a marketing technique; the show dangles the possibility of a queer romance in order to "bait"  a queer/ally audience into watching, and then continues to dangle or drag out the possibility of a same-sex romance in order to keep their audience hooked and continuously profited off. Queerbaiting takes advantage of peoples' hope and optimism, and that's why the betrayal stings so deeply once the queerbaiting is realized.

I argue that one of the major components of queerbaiting is that the show/writers must never explicitly confirm that there will NOT be queer romance. Queerbaiting is only sustained so long as the illusion of possibility persists.

Now, there are plenty of nuances to this.

If a showrunner comes out and explicitly states that there will be no queer representation in the show, this statement alone does not absolve the show of any queerbaiting it previously did. But, it DOES blur the lines for what can reasonably be defined as "actual" versus "willful" queerbaiting and subtext in the show going forward.

okay let me drop the pseudo-academic tone and just put it bluntly. what i'm trying to say is that, if a showrunner explicitly says "NO GAY ROMANCE," but the show's audience continues to insist and read for gay subtext anyway, and then the audience feels betrayed when the show ends with no queer romance --- at a certain point, wouldn't you argue that it's the fans that are actually baiting themselves, and not the show itself? this is what i mean by "willful" subtext.

As early as 2010 (this article/interview was posted the day of the first episode), the Sherlock showrunners explicitly stated that there would be no romantic relationship between Sherlock and Watson. Between 2010 and 2016, the showrunners repeatedly stated in multiple interviews that Johnlock would never happen.

I am 100% aware that I was drinking nothing but Kool-Aid while Voltron aired. I absolutely baited myself with desperate hope each season. But, in my weak defense, the flames of my Klance delusions were very much flamed by the promises made by the Voltron showrunners, who repeatedly floated the promise of queer representation in the show and spoke about Klance in the same breath. Klancers didn't bait themselves out of thin air; they desperately clung to the rope the Voltron writers threw us, and we were pulled in: hook, line, and sinker.

-

TLDR:

Queerbaiting involves willful deception and deliberate misinformation on the part of a showrunner/show.

If a showrunner encourages a queer ship, or makes vague promises of queer representation, then it reasonable for the show's audience to assume that a queer romance will happen. When a queer romance does not happen, this is clear-cut queerbaiting.

But if a showrunner explicitly states that a show will not have a major queer romance, then the show's audience should reasonably assume that the show will not have the queer ship they favor. If shippers continue to insist that their ship will come to fruition, and continue to pin their hopes on their ship, then the lines between who is actually baiting whom become very blurred.

Johnlock fans knew going into the show that John and Sherlock would never have an explicitly queer relationship. Fans continued to read for subtext, and maintained hope. The lines of queerbaiting become blurred, as it was not entirely clear if the show was actually baiting its shippers, or if fans were the ones baiting themselves.

In contrast, Klance fans were repeatedly encouraged by the showrunners, Netflix's marketing, and to some extent the VAs that Klance was possible (and that queer representation would firmly happen), and so Klance shippers were repeatedly strung along each season, up until the final season when Lance and Allura started dating and the Klance ship was torpedoed once and for all. (Do not talk to me about post-canon Klance, I am willfully defiant.) This is a firmly clear-cut case of queerbaiting.

In summary, Klance is the more textbook case of queerbaiting. It matches all the elements of queerbaiting: there was the willful deception by the showrunners, which encouraged Klance shippers specifically to hang onto the show, allowing Voltron to profit off its Klance audience. It's true that Klance shippers also continuously baited and deluded ourselves; but in our defense, we were following the example and promises set by the show itself.

Additional propaganda Bechloe: Ok for a little propaganda, since you may have forgotten pitch perfect, I want you all to know I first saw it as a 16-17 year old at gay youth group and can you imagine my fucking surprise and bafflement when they werent lesbians. Like basically thru the whole movie I was like “fun lesbian film nothing out of place just waiting for them to actually be gay” I know this was mostly the youth group organizers fault but I still think pitch perfect should have to answer for their crimes

I could talk so much about this but I want to point specifically to this promo for pitch perfect 3:

Bechloe - Pitch Perfect 3 Promo

Bechloe is REAL!

YouTube

and they then proceeded to give chloe an absolutely godawful love interest and like really overdid it (they also tried to give beca one too but anna kendrick was having NONE of that)

IIRC, Beca and Chloe were supposed to be lesbians but Universal vetoed it and made them give Beca a male love interest. Whether that changes things is up to you.

Even more Klance propaganda under the cut:

@klanced pretty well summarizes why Voltron was *more* queerbaity, but I think we should also consider what it means to be *worse.*

Make no mistake, the Sherlock team was.... for lack of a better term.... almost gaslight-y in their press, by disregarding the subtext that they themselves had written. But they were consistent. And their messages as showrunners did bear through, even as they were being cruel. Most importantly, Sherlock never needed the people they were baiting, so they could act aloof. That distance was horrible, but nothing like Voltron.

The relationship between Voltron and its fans was toxic, parasitic. Voltron couldn't have stayed around for that long without dragging its queer-baited audience behind it. It was a Netflix show, and those are always so close to the hangman's axe. It was the online fervor that sustained it.

And so, they had to appease the fans, pay the piper. But they had their own ideas for how the story would bear out, and each creator wanted something differently. In the end, they consistently used marketing tactics to imply something that could have been possible, if not for distinct creative voices that instead weakened the queer stories until they were watery piss.

Anyway, this was rambling. Vote Voltron for dangling queer alignment and ambiguity. Vote Voltron for pretending to be an ally. Vote Voltron for the stupid fucking LGBTQ banner that has Lance on it. Johnlock hurt, in a distant way, but Klance was worse.

I actually said this earlier on a different post, but I'll say it here too:

Its completely reasonable to think Klance was originally planned. Their interactions in the early seasons seemed a little too romantically coded to be something completely made up by fans. Thats why Klance was so popular, because it seemed all too possible.

However, when Dreamworks forced the creative team to change the story in order to keep Shiro alive instead of permanently killing him off like they originally planned, their entire story got fucked over. Seasons 3 and 4 were too far into production to stop and completely redo them, it would have been too expensive, even though it was the logical course of action. Instead, the producers had to make serious last minute changes to the story in order to keep Shiro in the picture. As a result, Shiro and Keith's switched places in the show, and Keith was almost completely written out of seasons 4-6 because Shiro was never supposed to be there. Any and all possible plans for any sort of development between Keith and Lance were thrown out the window because Keith wasn't there.

But as previously said, Voltron wouldn't have survived until the end without the rabid and feral online Klance fandom. The writing was very rapidly going to shit because there wasn't enough time to properly rewrite seasons 3 and 4 in order to meet Dreamworks' demands, and every season that followed suffered because of the decisions made for seasons 3 and 4. Everything was being improvised, and the storyboards for season 8 weren't finished until MARCH 2018 because of how behind schedule they were.

(I feel like the creative team don't get enough credit. Sure the show was a MASSIVE flop but their working conditions were less then ideal. Its impressive they got anything done on time due to the constantly changing ideas.)

The VLD producers knew that the Klance fandom was the only thing keeping the show alive, and continued to use Klance as bait until the very end. The VLD producers willingly enabled the notoriously toxic and violent Klance fandom with thumbnails and HotTopic merch, and allowed it to reach a point that the lives of their cast and crew were being threatenedby the rabid Klance fandom, just to get the ratings they needed to stay afloat.

THATS the disgusting part of all this. Whether Klance was originally planned as endgame or not, the producers used its popularity to keeping their already declining show running at the expense of the safety of their cast and crew.

I know next to nothing about BBC's Sherlock and Johnlock and whatever, but what the VLD producers did was sinister. Putting their creative team through both production and online HELL for some ratings, and it blew up in the most humiliating way possible. They did alllllll that, just to get one of the worst endings to an animated series of all time. Literally everyone hates them for what Voltron became, putting the lives of their creative team in danger was for nothing.

And obviously the producers can't completely blamed for the show's outcome, Dreamworks ruined their original plans. But continuing to use Klance as a marketing tactic while your fans are getting out of control and your creative team is being put in danger is just appalling. It was in their power to tell the Klance fandom Klance wasn't endgame, and that probably would have quelled the fire, but instead, with every season, they threw more and more gasoline into the dumpster fire.

So if you haven't already, vote Klance in this poll.

(I'm linking my source for all this info here. Its a video essay that I totally recommend watching. Super duper interesting.)

[singsweetmelodies]

Piarles Winter Fic Exchange 2024/25 - The Final Round-Up

AO3 Collection Link

It's that time of the year again, and we are so excited to reveal the fics from the Piarles Winter Fic Exchange of 2024/25!

We want to start by saying a MASSIVE thank you to all our incredible creators. You are all so wonderful and so so talented - it has been an honour and a pleasure to spend the last few months with you. To laugh with you and to create with you and to share the Piarles joy with you. You are all phenomenal, and we feel so lucky that you chose to spend this time with us. ❤️

I also want to take this opportunity to say a personal thank you to my amazing mod team: @duquesademiel, @yukierres, and @welightitup. Moderating this exchange with you has been a pleasure and a privilege. Thank you all, for everything!

Below the cut we have the final round-up of all our 2024/25 Piarles Winter Fic Exchange gift fics. You are in for a real treat - enjoy!!! And don’t forget to show the authors some love in the form of kudos, comments, bookmarks and tumblr reblogs 💘

Thank you all so much again.

Love and hugs,

Katie, Sol, Immy & Tia. 🎁❄️💙

On Laughter-Silvered Wings by @espithewarlock | rated T | 50k words

Pierre's greatest dream is to join The Institution as one of the Carers - the people who watch and maintain dragon eggs for their eventual Dragon Riders. When he forms a True Bond with one of the eggs, Pierre is thrilled to join the nobles who are assigned to eggs within the same clutch. Unfortunately, the reception he receives from his classmates is less than welcoming.

we better make a start by @gaynfl | rated M | 12k words

A holiday together, like old times, means Pierre is heading home for the first time in five years. Oh, and seeing the person he's never really gotten over. or... love, in the Alps.

Do you still think of me sometimes? by @golden-fairylights | rated E | 15k words

“I mean, we would probably have more fun in bed than you had with him,” states Charles, still giggling, and he only realizes what he said when Pierre stills, his eyes fixed on Charles once more, but this time it feels completely different. “I mean,” Charles panics and desperately tries to find a way to talk himself out of this mess, “not that we should.” “No, but that’s not even a bad idea, Cha.” Charles’ mouth shuts when Pierre leans closer, his eyes moving quickly as if he is thinking the whole thing through again. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, but we are best friends, we can just tell each other if we don’t like something, we both have big career goals, so for both of us, friends with benefits is the best option. You told me you have experiences with that, I do too, as you well know now. It would be perfect.” --- They meet at Juilliard. Two kids with big dreams - love is definitely not part of them. But nothing can go wrong if they are friends with benefits. Not if they follow their rules. Right?

AFTER HOURS by @hourcat | rated E | 42k words

“He said,” Alex had repeated back to him as they did the final rounds, “that their star performer just collapsed in rehearsals this afternoon.” “And they called us?” “They called the hospital, who recommended a few local rehabilitation clinics for muscle pulls and shit. We were on that list, and Vasseur called us.” or: Charles is the star of this year's Nutcracker-themed Cirque du Soleil Christmas show in New York City, but a hamstring injury puts his availability at risk at the worst possible time. Enter Pierre Gasly: the best PT in all of Manhattan...or so he says.

you bring me something I can’t define by @tiredtiredsharl | rated E | 13k words

Pierre says it while Charles’ fork is halfway to his mouth and that’s how the rice ends up in his lap, the herbed butter staining the very delicate linen immediately. “It is just unfortunate that I am stuck now with calling a rut service.” Charles’ hand shakes as he brushes the rice onto the patio ground. It’s probably rude. Someone will have to sweep it up, but Charles’ hands are shaking and he needs to hide them, so he stuffs them underneath his thighs and looks directly at Pierre when he says, “I am free.” Charles offers a few days of his time. He ends up with much more.

oh, he makes me dizzy (honey honey) by @your-littlesecret | rated G | 15k words

In hindsight, a 10-day road trip on the Italian coast with his best friend whom he's secretly in love with might not have been his best idea. But Lance is getting married and Charles has never been able to say no to Pierre. Maybe things will be just fine between them...

I, can’t afford to lose you any longer by @laeana | Not Rated | 6k words

When Charles wakes up with a pounding headache and a strange tattoo around his wrist, he doesn't know yet that he has involved himself with a Fae. The deal he made? The possibility to find his one true love in exchange for his F1 career if he doesn't succeed within a year. A stupid deal really. That's how he starts to search for his destined one, with Pierre by his side.

a light in your window by @chaesonghwas } rated E | 39k words

Mr. Charles Leclerc has been in love with his best friend, Mr. Pierre Gasly, for as long as he has been on this Earth. There is only one problem - Pierre is an alpha and Charles is decidedly a beta... until he presents as an omega unexpectedly one day, leaving their friendship compromised and forcing a betrothal. - Or: how Charles' destiny changes, nudging him towards Pierre.

one deep breath out from the sky by @duquesademiel | rated M | 60k words

Ten years ago, Pierre left his hometown because he couldn’t bear seeing Charles leave to fulfil a destiny he thought would end in death. Today, he’s back.

Sickness by another name by @captaincrabpot | rated T | 33k words

Charles is approaching his last season in formula one, facing the finality of all he’s spent his life working for. Pierre is mentoring an up and coming driver who just signed her first contract in F1 for Ferrari, and though he would die for her, he’s going to have to face his ex best friend who broke his heart right before the crash that ruined his life. Doriane just wants to win, and if that means parent trapping her mentor and his weird ex… well, that would be fine.

Right In Front of Me by @espithewarlock | rated G | 4k words

Charles' magic has always been strong and he believed it would only get stronger once he met his soulmate. When the FIA mandates tests to determine if they've met their soulmate, Charles discovers that he already has. Maybe going as far back as when his magic manifested. Now, he just has to figure out who it is.

Closing Arguments by queenofblasphemy | Not Rated | 8k words

Charles's first day at one of the most prestigious law firms in the country starts out with meeting an asshole at a café. An asshole that would soon play a bigger part in his life than he could ever have imagined.

the sound of the saw must be known by the tree by @radiocheck } rated T | 25k words

“What are you doing here?” Pierre looked around him as if there was an audience waiting to laugh at such an obvious question. “Oh, I don’t know. Studying?” “You’re… you’re… you…” Charles could feel his face turning furiously red the longer Pierre stared at him with that infuriating, lopsided smile. His heart and mind were racing at a million miles an hour and his mouth simply couldn’t keep up. “You’re studying architecture.” It wasn’t a question. “At the school I wanted to go to my whole life.” “Architectural and interdisciplinary studies, actually.” Charles’ embarrassment and confusion were suddenly replaced by an intense, burning rage. This was his dream. It always had been. Pierre knew that, and Charles knew just as well that he didn’t have the slightest bit of interest in studying the same thing, or even going to university at all. “Because of me?” Charles was raising his voice now and drew himself up in stature, trying to make the most of the centimetre of height he had on Pierre. “Do I still occupy such a vast space in your mind that you came all the way here to fucking ruin my life?” OR: what happens when Charles gets into his dream uni only to find his ex enrolled in the same class.

for I can’t help falling in love with you by @tiredtiredsharl | rated E | 40k words

Pierre is doing his best. He's a single dad and even though the French Immersion School was not in his plan, he understands why his in-laws feel it's important Aimée attend. He's doing his best. He could never have seen his daughter's theatre professor coming in a million years and maybe it's best that it caught him completely off guard - falling in love for the first time unprepared. Maybe that's what's best.

in a daze, learning each other’s shapes by @singsweetmelodies | rated E | 28k words

When Charles Leclerc's friends bully him into joining them on a ten-day holiday to a beautiful island for New Year's, Charles is barely even expecting to enjoy it, let alone meet the love of his life there. But then he meets Pierre, and everything changes.

pushing it down and praying by @yukierres | rated T | 21k words

“Mon petite, you need to not give up hope, I am sure there is someone out there perfect for you. Anyone would be lucky to be with you,” Pascale reminds him, voice full of motherly affection alongside the sadness. “But how am I meant to find them when I get hounded whenever I go out,” Pierre sobs, frustration likely loud in his voice, too sharp to be directed at his mother but he is too upset to notice. She doesn’t pull him out on it, instead pulling him tighter into her chest. “If you want someone so badly and you can’t find anyone, I will find someone for you. I am the Queen of France, I have connections, and there is nothing more that I want than for you to be happy.” Pascale suggests, nothing but kindness in her words. “And it would be so great if it could be before the Jubilee next year as well, so the media can see you nice and cosy with your new partner.” “Please,” is all he can whisper back, letting the tears fall from his eyes again. OR Pierre marries a stranger, falls in love, and watches himself break both of their hearts.

hear them sing (see them shine) by @alpinelogy | rated T | 10k words

The first time Pierre meets Charles, Charles is camped out in an asteroid belt that was once a moon before another celestial body crashed into it. It surrounds a planet near a dying star, practically only a red dwarf now. Soon, it will become a supernova. It is an uninteresting star, there is no beacon for it in the space time continuum. Charles has gotten better at controlling his hopping, over the years, decades, millennia even. OR: Charles keeps meeting Pierre over and over again for the first time.

twenty-five lives by @vicsy } rated M | 23k words

“I think I was meant to come back to you,” Charles whispered, overcome with a rare kind of veracity. Pierre brought his hand up, letting it hover momentarily. Then he swiped a pad of his thumb across Charles’ cheekbone, maddeningly slow, sealing his words with an invisible brand. “Good,” he drawled, voice but a gentle rumble; a purr of an engine. “You should stay.”

❤️💙

[noirsdoll]

idk if you take requests right now and if you write for daisuke but...big bro!daisuke x lil sis reader smut omgmg its just wont stop going trought my head recently 🙏🏻🙏🏻

oh this is so good... i think he lowkey has a porn addiction LMAO um daisuke would love his little sis more than anything!! so much so that he gets carried away... cw for brother/sister incest and a smidgen of dubcon!!

Daisuke knows you look up to him. That’s why he feels like such an asshole for what he’s doing to you now. 

Sure he’s not the brightest, or the best at anything, really, but you’ve never let that stop you from loving him any less. He’s so grateful he has you. 

In the upcoming days before his departure for the Pony Express, he’s been spending every waking moment with you. He’s going to miss you dearly, so he’s been trying to fill his final days making memories with you.

You just wanted to watch TV with him, sitting up in his lap like you always do, content to feel his skin flush with yours. You move to get comfortable and Daisuke lets you do so with a soft laugh and a ruffle of your hair. 

“You ready?” He asks, hand on the remote. 

You beam and nod. “Keep your eyes on the screen, okay? There’ll be a pop quiz at the end.”

“Can’t be a pop quiz if you’re telling me about it beforehand.”

You roll your eyes in jest. “Okay, smartass. Just shut up and watch.”

But then you start to shift to turn away to face the screen, indirectly grinding yourself against him. And it’s like Daisuke and his dick suddenly gain consciousness together. He’s never looked at you that way but suddenly he is— and it terrifies him. 

Daisuke never realized just how much you’ve grown up. Sure you’re still his little sister, but you’re a woman now. You have curves and tits and— he should stop thinking about this.

Now that you’re both adults, you can’t be so close to him like this anymore. It’s wrong. There’s a threshold you’ve both reached as adults that makes all the cuddling and handholding icky and so far from familial. 

Daisuke should say something, he should say that, exactly like how he just thought it in his brain. His hands move to your hips and dig into the flesh, pulling you to a stop. 

“Daisuke?” You look over your shoulder at him, the corner of your lips sinking into a confused frown. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, the words die on his tongue. “It’s nothing, sis.” Daisuke kisses your temple, and even that feels wrong. 

Surely you can feel it, his cock getting hard against your soft ass, the way his hips are squirming, not to mention how heavy his breathing has gotten. He’s a creep, he’s a creep, he’s a fucking creep. He hates how thinking that only makes him harder. 

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, rocking his cock against you, just barely able to feel the soft press of your cunt through your shorts. Daisuke gasps appreciatively against you. Just one more time. He’s only gonna do it one more time. 

But then you make the prettiest fucking sound as he does it a second time and Daisuke needs more. His stomach curdles but he can’t help himself, so drawn to you and only you. 

“Daisuke? What are you doing?” You ask as his hands creep lower, over your ass, pulling your shorts to the side. They’re hardly shorts, more like panties. You don’t ever wear much around him. 

“Just keep watching. Don’t mind me.” He’s fucking salivating. All the stepsister porn in the world couldn’t have prepared him for the sight of your pussy. Why did you shave it? Are you talking to some guy he doesn’t know about?

You pout. “But I wanted you to watch this show—!”

His dick nudges your cunt and your spine goes straight. You aren’t wet enough to take him yet, unfortunately. He can fix that. How do those guys do it in porn? 

Daisuke spits on his shaft, lubing it up. “Stay still, okay?” 

You try to get away, but he’s holding you against him. “What are you—?! Daisuke, I’m gonna tell Mom—!”

His dick slots into you and he tugs you back into him by your thighs. You gasp in shock, the noise split by a moan as he sinks you down onto him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice heavy and tainted by lust, “I just needed to know what you felt like.”

He didn’t need to do anything, but it’s hard to face the truth when he just put his dick inside his sister. Especially when he starts to move his hips and it’s practically impossible with how tight you are. You must not want him to pull out. 

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are lodged so far down your throat that all that comes out is a breathy gasp. Your pussy throbs around him. 

You sit there frozen as he fucks you, only starting to relax when he stuffs his hand between your thighs and rubs your clit. His fingers slip a little with how wet you’ve gotten.

“Open up for me, sis,” he begs, “please, fuck— I’m sorry.” It feels like all he can do is apologize.

You moan, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. Your pretty tits heave as you get yourself situated on his cock. “Daisuke, Daisuke—,” 

“Yeah? Is it okay?” He asks. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” That’d be his biggest fear in all of this. Daisuke wants nothing but to make you feel good, even if it’s at a cost to him— it’s the least he can do.

You shake your head, almost fervently, “gonna cum. Please, don’t stop.” Your pussy’s making half the noise for you as he rocks you on his dick.

“Fuck, you are?” Daisuke’s bewildered, he thrusts into you with more intensity. ��Wanna see it, please, sis.” He’ll never need porn again with how your moans are so perfectly burned into his brain.

You come apart around him, holding onto him so tight that he swears he might bruise. He gives you a moment to calm down around him, combing your sweaty hair out of your face and kissing your forehead.

Daisuke really didn’t think this through— he’s gonna miss you even more now.

[pukefactory]

can i req a low battery/hungry vee x reader 🫶

⊹⊱•••《 FLICKERING MONITORS 》•••⊰⊹

⍟ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring the reader helping Vee with a low battery charge

⍟ Character(s): Vee Version 1 (Dandy’s World)

⍟ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

⍟ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

☇ Vee rarely shows weakness, but when her battery is low, she has no choice but to slow down. Her usual confident demeanor falters, her movements become sluggish, and her screen flickers between dim green hues. At first, she tries to brush it off, refusing to acknowledge that she’s running on empty. It isn’t until you step in—placing a hand on her arm and telling her, point-blank, to sit down—that she finally listens.

☇ Her usual sharp wit is dulled when she’s low on power. If she tries to throw out a sarcastic remark, it often trails off before she can finish, leaving her blinking at the empty space in front of her. You can’t help but find it amusing, but you also know better than to tease her about it—unless you want to be on the receiving end of her unimpressed glare once she recharges.

☇ When she’s on the verge of shutting down, Vee becomes more honest than usual. She lacks the energy to filter herself, so you’ll occasionally catch her mumbling absentminded thoughts. Once, after you guided her to sit against the Gardenview tree, she muttered, “You’re… good at this. Taking care of me.” You were about to ask her to repeat that, but by the time you turned to her, her screen had already faded to black.

☇ She hates feeling vulnerable, but she trusts you enough to let you see her like this. Even in her exhausted state, she makes sure you don’t worry too much. “It’s just a power save mode,” she insists, waving a sluggish hand. “Nothing to get all emotional about.” But you notice the way she leans into your touch, seeking comfort despite her words.

☇ Her tail, usually animated and twitching with energy, goes completely still when her battery is critically low. If you try to nudge it or lift it slightly, it flops back down with zero resistance. The first time this happened, you half-jokingly told her it was kind of cute. She immediately fixed you with a half-lidded stare and deadpanned, “I’m moments from collapsing, and this is what you focus on?”

☇ When her battery dips too low, her voice starts glitching. The confident, smooth tone she usually carries stutters and distorts into robotic fragments. She loathes it, which is why she starts speaking less when she’s running on fumes. You quickly catch on and start filling the silence yourself, telling her about your day or rambling about something you know she enjoys. Even if she doesn’t respond, you can tell she’s listening.

☇ If she shuts down completely, you stay beside her the entire time. Whether she’s leaned against your shoulder or lying still with her tail curled beside her, you refuse to leave until she powers back on. The first time she woke up to see you still sitting there, half-asleep but keeping watch, she was silent for a long moment before muttering, “You really are something else.”

☇ Despite her exhaustion, she’s still as stubborn as ever. If you try to carry her somewhere more comfortable, she will protest. “I can walk,” she grumbles, even as her limbs threaten to give out. You ignore her complaints and continue supporting her weight, much to her exasperation. Secretly, though, she appreciates it more than she’ll ever admit.

☇ Once she’s fully recharged, she acts as if nothing ever happened. If you bring up how worried you were, she just shrugs and says, “See? I told you I’d be fine.” But later, when she thinks you’re not paying attention, she shoots you a brief, grateful glance before quickly looking away.

☇ After her battery incident, she begrudgingly lets you keep track of her power levels. “It’s not like I need you to do this all the time,” she insists, arms crossed. “But since you’re so insistent on hovering, I guess I’ll allow it.” Of course, she doesn’t stop you when you check on her throughout the day. And if you ever gently remind her to recharge before it gets bad again, she just sighs and mutters, “Fine, fine. Don’t worry so much.”

[ajokeformur-ray]

You totally don't have to write this if you're not comfortable, but imagine reader being taken by batman since he's suspicious of her and J finds out and is beyond mad but she comes back unharmed? I hope that makes sense like how would he feel? Again you don't have to do if you don't like this idea ♥️♥️

I haven't written for J or seen TDK for a while so it might be inaccurate on the Batman side of things. I hope you enjoy this, nonnie, I love this idea!❤️

TW; morally ambiguous reader, reader is intelligent, reader gives no fucks and matches J's energy, kidnapping situation, mentions of reader being tied up and receiving relevant minor injuries, several mentions of J training reader to handle this scenario

It had been, by all accounts, a civil kidnapping.

You had been walking home and had been grabbed, pulled into an undercover cop van, driven what felt like seven to nine blocks away from your intended location to an old warehouse which was clearly where Batman operated on a bigger scale, offered a drink - which you had declined with urgency due to the risks of being poisoned, drugged, or something underhanded, tied up somewhat roughly, and then interrogated to within an inch of your life.

As someone very used to J and his eccentricities, Batman's methods were... somewhat lacking on the intimidation side of things, and you struggled to keep from laughing a few times. It was almost pathetic, and the line of questions were almost insulting considering he was suspicious of you and your connection to J.

He was right to be suspicious, but he didn't need to know that.

Still, you played along, you boded your time, you played sweet and ignorant, and you knew that they didn't know you were lying through your teeth. You weren't going to compromise or give anything away no matter what they did to you or how many times they threw curve-balls at you. They asked you multiple questions in multiple different ways, hoping to catch you off guard, hoping to catch you in your lies, but they never did. J had prepared you very well for this kind of situation.

In the end, they gave up. Whether it was Batman or someone else who decided, it mattered not. One of J's double-agent goons had found out that you had been kidnapped, relayed it back to J, and he was livid.

By the time you were driven home and thrown/manhandled out of the same van and onto your doorstep, J was there waiting for you.

The second you were safely inside and the door was locked behind you, J was all over you like a bad smell - really, you needed to remind him to shower sooner rather than later - walking around and circling you like a bird of prey.

J was ranting and raving about the situation. You were so used to his dramatics that you almost wanted to roll your eyes, you almost wanted to tell him to let you be because it wasn't that big of a deal - he had trained you for this - but you knew that J was showing you, in his own very misguided and unusual way, that he cared about you.

So you let him circle you, you let him gently grab you, you let him pull you this way and that, but at one point you snapped and said, "I'm fine, J!" You were completely unharmed other than the slight redness around your wrists and ankles from where you had been tied up, but it was nothing a little extra care over the next week or so wouldn't be able to fix.

"Fine?" J spat back sarcastically, his tone biting. He rifled around in his pockets, muttering "nope, nope, uhhhh no, not that one," but never tipping things onto the floor as he felt around for what he was looking for. He pulled out a small tin, flicked it open, and smeared his gloved fingers inside before lathering the substance all over your wrists; it was clumsily, lazily done, but with as close to a good intention as you would get with someone like J. "It, uh, ain't fine, toots. Nothin' about this is fine."

J snapped the lid shut, shoved it back in his pocket, and you could tell that he was at least surface-level disgruntled by the fact that you had been kidnapped, but also proud that you had held your own using his training. It validated that you paid attention to him, you listened to him, and it helped him to see that he was capable of looking after you even when he wasn't around to do that.

He'd have to give that double agent of his a raise...

[tiktowafel]

do you ever think about how all you used to draw when you were 10 was ponies and that you should still know how to do that, then get an idea and proceed to draw something like these in nearly one sitting and it turns out better than any drawing you've done in the entire past month

sooo anyway does anyone have cutie mark or pony name ideas for them?? lol

[lesbian-sunshim]

support me on patreon or leave a tip

rare pairs for your consideration - starlight x discord

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

one thing i realized about fandaniel's dynamic with xande that really fucks me up is, like.... there are the obvious parallels that canon draws between meteion and xande, and their roles in hermes/fandaniel's lives. and there are also the parallels between fandaniel and meteion. there's a lot to unpack.

but it hit me recently that one of hermes' deepest, most devastating regrets is having failed meteion, with abuse and hypocrisy and the project he had the authority to make her a part of.

he was painfully aware that he wasn't fit to be a father; that he'd put them in a bitch of an unsatisfactory situation with his lack of foresight; that he was currently fucking things up in ways he did not know how to understand or articulate, much less address. he knew that there was no support system for this; not just for his mental health issues in general, but to educate him and hold him accountable about how to be decent to her, because he knew no one would give a fuck. the closest thing anyone would have given him to advice would be to just kill her and start over.

he says he hopes she'll find a better parent out there in space somewhere, because he knows there is not one to be found for her anywhere on this star, including him. she was one of the most helpless, vulnerable people in their society, and there was no backup for her if he mistreated her, if he failed. and he did.

so of course his next attempt to find a meteion would be an emperor. of course he'd be at the very top of the most powerful empire in the world, at the time. of course he'd position himself as his servant, devote himself to him utterly, and value his authority above all. he wanted someone he could never hurt the way he hurt meteion again.

[iridescentoracle]

Hello! I am here to ask about your Dior headcanons re: the political cohesion of Doriath. 👀

Oh man, I didn't expect anyone to actually take me up on that!

(Okay so I got partway into writing this and then realized I should probably note up front that I tend to stick to the Silm (& LOTR/the Hobbit where applicable, but they... aren't, here) as the most authoritative version of canon, and I can get into why and where the nuances/exceptions are there (I do say tend to stick, it's not hard and fast!), but that's mostly a side note here: the point is simply that I don't really factor other drafts or the poetic Leithian into my take on Doriath, Thingol, Dior, etc, just what we're told in the actual Silm. I also read the Silm as an in-universe history text compiled by in-universe scholars, who, being people, are going to have their own biases and blind spots, even when they're doing their best to be accurate!)

So, this is a two-part thing: #1, there's the political cohesion of Doriath before & at the time of Thingol's death, which i talked about in the tags of the post that prompted this ask but is kind of necessary as context for the Dior part to make sense, and #2, there's the actual Dior headcanons. Both of these parts are very long because I've never really seen anyone else suggest any of this stuff and I want to explain where I'm coming from thoroughly enough that it actually makes sense to people who aren't me, but the TL;DRs:

TL;DR 1: I think Doriath was probably a hot mess politically after Thingol died, with tensions between various groups of Sindar and Laiquendi in the leadup to Thingol's death & Melian's departure, and more political tensions afterwards between those who wanted Beren & Lúthien to come be the new rulers, and those who thought they should stay gone, with someone still in Doriath taking over.

TL;DR 2: I think Dior became Eluchil, potentially at the request of some portion of the Iathrim, hoping to help prevent Doriath from devolving into civil war, and saw dealing with the Silmaril-Fëanorioni situation as a lower priority than stabilizing Doriath's internal political situation until it was too late.

1. The political cohesion (or rather, lack thereof) in Doriath prior to Thingol's death

So, okay, the thing about Doriath is that we don't actually have any real idea of like... how much the Iathrim liked being the Iathrim? We're never told about any intra-Iathrim conflict, but a) the Silm was probably compiled mostly by surviving Gondolindrim or their descendants, so they wouldn't know about anything liike that unless surviving Iathrim told them, and after the Second Kinslaying I don't imagine many Iathrim would've been eager to talk about how things had actually been tense/messy/etc when they could remember everything as having been perfect until it was ruined by the Fëanorionrim, and doubly so after the Third Kinslaying, so why would anything like that make it into the Silm?

and b) what we do know about Doriath is that it wasn't really Doriath as we know it until Morgoth came back to Middle-earth, and everything went to hell.

At the start of the first age, you suddenly get Doriath (the fenced land!) being the one protected area of a continent that used to be totally free and open. How many Sindar actually didn't particularly care for Thingol's style of leadership, or simply preferred to live nomadic lives, going basically wherever they pleased, until suddenly that wasn't safe anymore, and you were only guaranteed survival if you were close enough to Menegroth to be within the Girdle when it went up? ditto how many Laiquendi had no interest in swearing loyalty to Thingol right after their own king had just been killed, but again, made it to safety and stayed there over taking their chances on their own in the outside world? (None of this is meant as any insult to Thingol himself, by the way; he can have been a good king who did his best for his people and still rubbed some of his new subjects-by-necessity the wrong way, through no fault of his own or theirs.)

I think it's entirely possible that there were always potential political tensions under the surface in Doriath that just... never got written about, because they never boiled over into actual political conflict, and so it was never the sort of tension that had any bearing on the historical record.

Except then Beren & Lúthien happen to the world, and a few years later the Narn, and in the blink of an eye suddenly the only king Doriath has ever had is dead, and the only queen Doriath has ever had is gone and the Girdle with her—and more than that, the only rulers the Sindar had ever had for three thousand years before Doriath existed.

And where a few years earlier I think the Iathrim would probably have turned pretty universally to Lúthien, now she's abandoned them for her human husband—and while she's my favorite character in the entire legendarium hands-down and I don't blame her, I think that's another place there might have actually been some very mixed feelings among the Iathrim that nobody wanted to admit to later because how could anyone have been upset with Lúthien—and on top of her abandoning them for him, I think it's extremely probable most of Doriath did not actually get over their xenophobia about humans in general or Beren in specific when Thingol did (we know for sure at least some of Doriath didn't, cf. Saeros insulting Túrin's mother & sister to his face), but again, who's going to admit to having had a grudge against the holy couple of Middle-earth after the fact, you know?

Conversely, there could've been a sizeable faction of Sindar who had been totally loyal to Thingol until everything happened with Beren & Lúthien, but who found his actions towards them and/or Finrod to be where they drew the line, and while (unlike B&L themselves) that faction stayed in Doriath, there could've been a new, additional tension on that front.

Finally, for all we know there were multiple factions within the Laiquendi of Doriath, with political tensions stretching back to before their king died, rooted in who-even-knows!

2. Dior

All of that, of course, sets up a very, very messy political situation for Dior to walk into.

The Doriath stuff is arguably more speculation than actual headcanon, but here's where the unambiguous headcanons come in: I don't think "Dior Eluchil set himself to raise anew the glory of the kingdom of Doriath." Obviously that's how it got written down, but bluntly, I can't see Beren and Lúthien having a kid that stupid or, like, power-hungry and arrogant?

What I can see is a situation where the messenger that brought word of Thingol's death and Melian's departure asked Beren & Lúthien to come take over as the new king and queen, we promise we're not mad about you leaving and we won't be xenophobic to your husband anymore we swear it's fine now pretty please, Beren & Lúthien said no, and the messenger either asked Dior as a second choice, or said "okay fine none of that was actually true but Doriath is falling apart and we need a leader ASAP and there's about eight different contenders* (mostly kinsmen of Thingol or Laiquendi) being backed by various factions and it's going to devolve into civil war any minute so if you care at all—" and Dior said "would I do?"

(* Ask me about my Galadriel headcanon)

I don't think Dior necessarily wanted to be king of Doriath, and I don't think he saw the throne as his birthright or anything like that; I don't think anyone involved, from Thingol to Lúthien to Dior himself, ever considered the possibility of Thingol dying and needing an heir! I think it's possible he was asked, or at most that he offered, and either way, I think he saw becoming king as taking on a responsibility for the sake of others.

(Which, like, "well here's a potentially impossible task that I'm going to take up even though probably no one thinks I'm actually capable of it, but it's my duty to help others as best I can" sure does sound to me like an attitude one might develop when raised by Lúthien "I kicked Sauron's ass cast a sleep spell on Morgoth and persuaded the Valar to find a loophole in the fabric of reality" Tinuviel and Beren "I stayed by my father's side as an outlaw to give my mother time to lead the rest of our people away hopefully to safety knowing I would never see her or any of them again (and then spent several years being a giant thorn in Morgoth's side for good measure)" Barahirion, where "apparently my grandpa I may or may not have ever met died, guess that makes me the king of a place i may or may not have ever been" does... not.)

I also think he either took on the epithet Eluchil, or was given it by whichever factions of the Iathrim accepted him as king, when he actually became king. Obviously he's going to be referred to as Dior Eluchil even before that in retrospect because that's how he's thought of later, but that doesn't mean it was actually a name he always had, you know?

The final thing is, I think if Dior essentially walked into a political situation five seconds from devolving into civil war, it makes his inaction regarding the Silmaril prior to the Second Kinslaying make more sense: the Fëanorioni have been sitting around doing nothing about the Silmaril in Doriath / with Beren & Lúthien this whole time, the letter saying "hey that's our Silmaril give it back now" is probably just a formality, and Dior's only been ruling for a couple years, there's still plenty of people dubious about whether he should be king at all, he might well be subject to at least some of whatever xenophobia remains about humans in Doriath, and in general all the work he's done on stabilizing the kingdom will absolutely come undone again if he screws up; he's trying to keep a kingdom from falling apart, the Silmaril thing can wait.

Of course, it wasn't a formality, and it couldn't wait, but why would Dior have known that?

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[foldingfittedsheets]

Working at the mattress store generally means a lot of long shifts. Ten hour days are not uncommon. You come in, sit alone in a box for a long time, maybe sell a bed, it’s fine. It’s not usually an issue of safety, though, because who’s coming in to shakedown a mattress store? We have no cash and nothing really portable.

But there was one night where I was whiling away my time and a guy came in. He was a big guy, muscular and very punk, tattoos, piercings, the works. We got along fabulously and while helping him a middle aged white couple came in. I was pleased to have a livelier night than I’d anticipated. I bounced back and forth between the disparate parties, eventually finding beds for both.

I finished sooner with the couple but they lingered uneasily by the front of the store instead of leaving and eventually beckoned me over. I trotted along to ask if everything was okay and the woman whispered to me that they were scared to leave me alone with the guy. It was getting late and he appeared quite menacing to them. I wanted to laugh, he was an absolute sweetheart, but instead I assured them that all was well and they could go.

They departed and I immediately told the guy what they’d said. We both had a hearty laugh over it. He finished his purchase and went on his way.

In the last hour, I had my final customer. A young white man in immaculate clothes, button down shirt with freshly shined shoes. Reader, I wanted to bolt. The man had the discordant energy of a cracked bell. Something was deeply wrong with his vibes despite his polished exterior. I desperately wished the nice couple would come hover in the doorway and stare.

I gritted my teeth and greeted him, projecting a friendly and unconcerned air. It seemed clear pretty quickly that he wasn’t actually that interested in getting a bed, which alarmed me even more. I tried to go through the process of fitting him for a mattress but instead he would segue off into telling me about his life while making unblinking eye contact. He asked probing questions about me. I longed for the nice punk man to come back in with a question.

I soldiered onward, visualizing my panic button and refusing to show the slightest hint of unease to him. Eventually he told me that he played piano. He asked if I would like to see a video of him playing piano. I said okay. He then turned his phone over and showed me his screen. In it, he sat staring directly into the camera while playing piano. Above the screen he stared with the same intensely unhinged energy in the video, two sets of serial killer eyes fixed on my tiniest reaction.

I smiled politely, pinned in place by social niceties. After an eon the video finally ended. It was clear he was not going to buy a bed. I insisted that I needed to lock up. He asked if he could stay for that. I firmly informed him he needed to leave for that. With reluctance he drifted out the door as I radiated calm assurance of my own safety and power, locking the door behind him. I turned out the lights and crouched behind the desk in the darkened store, peeking out to watch.

He sat in his car for a long time. But eventually he drove away. I darted out to my car and got home as quick as I could.

The encounter remains one of the most unsettling I’ve ever had in retail. In my decade of serving the public I helped a parade of characters from the harmlessly eccentric to the genuine creeps but this man truly frightened me unlike anyone I’d ever dealt with.

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

Watching the Cowboy Bebop anime and there have been multiple episodes that end with me going

like PLEASE. How do you end an episode with the entire crew unconscious and dying from being bitten by some mysterious creature and just go *hand wave* "They're fine" and then never mention that ever again??

[jensthwa]

show & tell (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

You have known Mingi since you both were fourteen. You’ve been by his side through thick and thin and you would do anything for him, really, considering he’s your other half. When he has an unfortunate bed experience and asks for your help and you say yes, he starts considering that, maybe, you’re just the best friend a guy like him can have.

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends to ?

WORD COUNT: 8k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit, hwa being the voice of reason, sex talk, pet names (love and also dude and bro but in a sweet way), mingi scaring the sense out of you, descriptions of female anatomy, kissing, dirty talk (sort of), teasing, a little bit of voyeurism, fingering, squirting, almost getting caught, unresolved feelings.

NOTES: had to do a lot of research for this one, so i figured nothing better to post as my first fic here! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 18th 2024.

masterlist. / part two.

“Delete her number right now!” 

“She's such a bitch for saying that to you…” 

“And over text too? Wow.” 

“Yeah, no, I didn't like her from the start.” 

Wooyoung’s living room comes to life once again that morning, voices echoing and insults flying out, all towards the girl Mingi’s seeing. 

Was seeing. You're sure she's out of his usual rotation with the lovely shit show she just caused. 

You stay silent, your eyes fixed on your best friend's expression, on his red cheeks and apologetic eyes because everyone told him that girl was bad news. 

He should've listened to you when you told him you liked her friend better. She was a sweet girl, clearly had a thing for Mingi. 

Unfortunately, Mingi has a type. And that type always ends up breaking his spirit one way or another. 

But you stay silent, letting your friends have their little rants about how much of a bitch she is for hurting Mingi's ego like that, until he covers up his face with his hands and lets out a frustrated whine. 

“That's enough, everyone. I think he got it.” You smile a little and everyone turns to you, Yunho’s chest heaving and everything but Seonghwa (who also kept his mouth shut all this time) interferes before anyone else has the chance to start again.

“You know you shouldn't feel ashamed for that, right?” he asks Mingi, who slowly lowers his hands to his lap and looks at you for a brief second. You nod, confirming what Hwa says “No one is born knowing everything and she shouldn't expect you to know how to make a girl squirt.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Mingi whines again, closing his eyes “Don't say it like that.” 

“How else should I say it?” Seonghwa is confused but he laughs a little bit and turns to you. 

Being the only girl in the room, you think everyone it's expecting you to pick your friend up and join them in their insults but you can't (for Mingi’s sake). Instead, you let out a sigh “I mean, it's hard to even make it happen on your own without any help, Mingi. I don't know what the fuck she's on but…” shrugging, you extend your arm to pat him in the shoulder two times “Hwa’s right.” 

“So you do know?” 

“Woo—” Hongjoong reprimands right away and you turn to Wooyoung, confused.

“Huh?” 

“You said that it's hard making it happen,” he explains, smiling because he just found a new target for the next few days “So you must know.” 

Talking about sex with them was never difficult, it didn't make you uncomfortable whatsoever but you know what Woo is doing. 

You look down at Mingi before answering though and his eyes are glued to the carpet, begging for the topic of his unfortunate encounter with that bitch to die on everyone's tongue. 

So you take mercy on him. 

“Oh. I mean… Yeah.” You shrug once again, leaning back against the cushions on the couch while Wooyoung claps like he just heard the most hilarious joke ever. 

“You truly are amazing.” 

Rolling your eyes, you get up from your comfy seat “Sure. But it took a lot of practice and the whole ordeal was frustrating for me, so, again, I don't know what the fuck she was on,” you say again, smiling down at Mingi before taking a few steps towards the door “It's noon already, by the way.” 

“Shit.” Woo gets up quickly from his spot on the floor and everyone else follows suit. 

“Alright, everyone out! We have a midterm to cheat on.” San calls out and everyone takes it as their sign to actually leave (not just hang around the apartment) and continue with their days. 

This reunion was a little impromptu, just because Wooyoung texted everyone begging to come over and hang out with him and San before their online philosophy midterm. 

“And by that he means that you need to stay,” Wooyoung hugs Seonghwa hard, almost begging him with his eyes “We didn't study… Don't look at me like that! Please?” 

“I'm not doing your fucking midterm for you!”

You chuckle, leaning on the door and waiting for your ride home to get his shoes on. When you look down at him again, Mingi mouths a thank you and you blow him a kiss. 

When you get downstairs, you swear you still hear Wooyoung begging his senior to take the test for him. 

Everyone is quiet in the car. You can tell they're tired from exams and life in general, so you don't press them with questions and just let the music play in the background while you look out the passenger window and, eventually, at Mingi. 

His grip on the steering wheel lets you know he's a little more affected than he let on back there. But, again, you say nothing. 

You know better than to pressure him into telling you his feelings. 

Mingi and you have been friends forever. He lived a few houses down from yours, becoming your first friend when you moved to the city. You both were fourteen when it happened, so you've known him long enough to know what happens when he gets his heart broken. 

Not that Mingi loved that girl or anything, but he never really took embarrassment well. He didn't when the first girl he liked rejected him in front of the whole ninth grade class and he didn't when his pants ripped in the middle of the stage while performing a routine with his dance team on senior year. 

You stood by his side every single time and every single time he waited to sit down and let everything out, collect his feelings and talk to you through his frustrations. You really loved that about him, because he never said anything he regretted just because he was upset at the moment. 

Maybe that's why you two have been friends for so long. Opposites attract, or whatever your mother told you one time. 

In reality, you think it's because you two complement each other well. 

He knows when to speak his mind and you're kind of impulsive, heart on your sleeve and sharp tongue ready to defend your and your loved ones honor if needed. 

That's why it takes a lot of strength for you to not pull up that girl's number from his phone and give her a piece of your mind. 

One by one, you drop your friends off in different parts of the city and when it's time to go into your own house, you circle the car and Mingi rolls his window down.

He reads the look you give him a little too well, so he opens his mouth to stop you but you shake your head. 

“Call me, come over or just let me know if you need anything,” you start before he says anything “If you need me to beat her up, I can do that too.” 

He huffs out a laugh “You don't even know how to fight, love.”

You sigh at the nickname, he's been using it since the time you told him you had a crush on his friend, way back in highschool, and that you were positive you were going to get together and he would call you love because that's what good boyfriend's do. 

Turns out, you weren't exactly his friend's type. Neither were the other girls in your school. 

“I don't give a shit, I'll do it,” You two smile to each other fondly for a few seconds and then you tap the top of the car “Thanks for the ride, dude.” 

“You’re welcome, bro.” He rolls his eyes, annoyed because he hates when you call him that, but waits for you to get inside either way. 

And in the solitude of your room, you wait. 

You distract yourself with papers that are due in a few days, you start studying for your finals even though they're months away and you even go downstairs to say goodbye to your parents when they leave for a fancy dinner with their colleagues before you hear your phone ring. 

Mingi's FaceTime comes right on time, because you were getting really anxious from the radio silence on his end. 

“I have a small query for you.” He puts on an accent that makes you grimace immediately and he laughs at you. 

“Ew. Never do that ever again,” you beg, going back upstairs to your room “Go ahead.” 

“How do you do it?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“How the fuck do you make yourself squirt, love?” 

Oh. 

Definitely not the conversation you were hoping to have with him. 

It catches you off guard and you stammer your response “Um… You— I mean, it's not really a thing I can explain.” 

“You have such a way with words, though.” 

You stare at him through the screen, annoyed, and he just laughs again “Don't make me come over and beat you up.” 

“Alright, alright,” his giggling dies out and you distract yourself from the heat you feel creeping over your cheeks while putting away your statistics prep for the quiz you have next week. There's a bit of silence and then you hear him sigh “I do really want to know, though.” 

“If you're asking me this to then go over to her house and prove her wrong, I'm not telling you shit.” 

“No! No, that's not it at all,” he defends himself quickly when you turn your head to the camera, scowl in your face “When she asked me to do it, I really did try to make her, you know…” 

“You said squirt so freely a minute ago, Mingi,” you tease, smiling, but at his expression, you give in “What exactly did you do?” 

“I tried to, you know, do it like they do it in the movies,” he demonstrates his point with his free hand, his middle and ring finger down on his sheets, pressing and moving side to side “And she was enjoying it and she came, but nothing really… came out.” 

“Wow, first of all: you make her come and she has the nerve to give you shit over text? I hate her,” you shake your head, disappointment written all over your face “and second of all, that was a terrible mistake.” 

“What? Going like this?” He does it again and you roll your eyes, laughing a second later. 

“No, dude, trying to porno your way into making her squirt.” 

“Oh.” His movements on the sheets slow down and you grimace again. 

“Please stop doing that,” you beg and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you through the screen. You take your phone and move to the bed, resting your head against the pillows with a huff. 

You ponder for a moment. You're sure telling him what he wants to hear it's not really a threat to your friendship, but it's also something that's very personal and intimate. You can talk about sex with Mingi and the other guys, sure, what doesn't mean you tell them about your sex life. 

Maybe that's why Wooyoung was so excited earlier today, because you spilled something that involves you directly and not something vague and general like you usually do. 

“Would it give you peace of mind if I explained it to you?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper as you sit straight on the bed. 

Your best friend takes what feels like a lifetime to respond and, when does, it's in a hushed tone as well “Please.” 

You groan and you comply either way, trying to find the right words to even start “Okay, I'm going to be very technical about this.” 

“I wouldn't expect anything else from you.” 

His teasing tone makes you glare at him for a few seconds before dismissing it with a click of your tongue “The very first thing you need to make sure happens, is that you wash your hands—” 

“Yes, Y/N, I'm not a virgin,” he huffs this time, annoyed “I know all of that, just skip to the part where I make her squirt.” 

“Jesus, fine! I also want to clarify that this works on me and I'm not really sure if it'll work on anyone else, alright?” he nods and you look away from the screen because you're not sure how to look him in the eyes “The first thing that I do— The first thing that you need to do,” you correct yourself quickly “Is make sure she's comfortable. And I mean, the space. Towels, water bottles… She needs to hydrate a lot.” 

“Hydrate… a… lot…” You turn your head to the screen and your jaw goes slack at what you see. 

“Are you writing this down?!” 

“I’m making sure I don't forget anything!” 

“You're unbelievable…” You let out under your breath and take a deep one before resuming the, apparently, class “Squirting can be confused as peeing and—” 

“Shit, hold on.” He interrupts and you hear his mom’s voice at the door, asking him something you can't really catch through the shitty airpod audio “It's just Y/N… I'm not really saying anything so I don't understand how I'm being too loud for— Yes ma'am.” 

You try not to laugh because he's literally being scolded right in front of you. 

Old habits die hard, and Mingi's mom loves to put him on the spot. 

Your laugh dies hard as well, because the next words, for some reason, make your heart drop to your ass. 

“She's telling me to either cut it out or go to your house, so… I'm coming over.” 

“Oh, I— Hello?” Your lockscreen mocks you because the call literally ended before you could tell him to go and fuck himself “Shit.” 

You don't know why you panic, but you do. You tidy up the room, you change your pajamas into something more presentable and you try to remember what you were telling him before he pulls open your bedroom door. 

“Mingi! Fuck, you scared the shit out of me “ you're panting, hand over your chest. 

He’s also panting, like he runned to get to your house, but he looks dumbfounded by your reaction “Your mom literally gave me the spare keys in your presence.”  

When he steps closer, you notice he's wearing cologne and that his hair it's a little wet, still, so you figure he took a shower before calling you tonight. 

Which means he probably wanted to sleep everything off, like he usually does, but whatever this is made him call you. 

“Yeah! But I thought you— Nevermind.” He shrugs and gives your hair a kiss before he moves to sit at your desk, the same way he usually does when he steals your laptop and notes to complete his assignments for the few classes you share. 

God. Somehow, you wish he was doing just that so it brings back some sense of normalcy. Maybe then, your heart can calm down enough for you to understand why this specific situation has your senses going insane. 

You sit back down on your bed and try to get your heart back to its place in the meantime. 

“They're not home, right? I didn't see your dad’s car.” 

“Company dinner.” 

“Ah.” He nods and you both fall in uncomfortable silence. It shouldn't be awkward, but it kind of is, even if you laugh when he pulls out the notebook he was writing on from underneath his oversized shirt and steals a pen from your pencil case, it's still a little weird. 

You gulp. 

“So, squirting can be confused as peeing.” He recalls the last thing you said with a smile and then he turns to look at you for a second “Go on.” 

You're grateful he's taking notes all of the sudden. He's turned to you, so you have a clear view of his back and you can freely take a grounding breath before continuing “It can make you feel very uncomfortable if you think you're going to pee yourself and that's really why most women don't squirt in the first place.” 

“You sound like you're reading a textbook.” He confesses with a laugh. 

“I told you, I'm being very technical about this— Besides, I did my research when I was trying to…” you gulp again “You know.” 

“You said squirt so freely a minute ago.” Mingi teases you the same way you teased him earlier and you squint your eyes in return. 

“Very funny. Anyways… Yeah, when you feel that, you usually tense up. You need to relax before even making it happen,” he nods, writing it down quickly “I also read that, depending on the person, you can confuse the liquid with, like, usual… arousal? Yeah, arousal” you sound more confident the second time you say it, unsure on how to call it because you never really explained anything related to your vagina to anyone else. 

He turns to you, confused “So… If she doesn't squirt a lot, how can I tell if she did it?” 

“I guess you'll notice it in her reaction?” You shrug and then cough a little to try and get rid of the sudden lump on your throat “I mean, it's not my case, so I wouldn't… I wouldn't know that.” 

Mingi, because -you guess- hates you, just raises a brow and looks you over one time before turning back to his notes. 

“A-anyways,” you cough again “It's all in her g-spot. It happens because it gets stimulated and that g-spot it's like…” you, once again, try to find the ideal words to explain “It's like the upper wall of the vagina? No, no, that's not right,” you see him draw a line over what he clearly wrote down on the paper and you laugh, apologetic “It's more like the, uh… Like the front wall of it.” 

“Front wall?” 

“Y-yeah?” you offer, nervous and unsure “I mean… Ugh, let me explain again. Something that you need to take into account is that you can only find it if she's really, really turned on.” 

“O… kay.” 

“Sort of like when you get hard we, uh, also get hard. Just differently,” you notice he's no longer taking notes when you turn to him again and the room is suddenly very hot. 

The AC’s on, right? 

Fuck. 

“And apparently it only really shows up when you're really aroused. The g-spot, I mean,” Quickly, you're up from your bed and walking around it, fetching your water bottle and taking a big gulp of it with your eyes closed. 

Mingi clears his throat a second later. 

“So it feels hard to the touch or…” 

“Not really, um… It kinda feels like a berry.” 

He laughs “What?” 

“Yeah, it's kind of soft but it has a texture to it too. And we, uh… have this gland that fills up with the liquid— Kind of like a prostate gland! Yeah, that's what that article said,” putting even more distance within Mingi and you, you sit back on the bed, just on the other side “If you try to do it before it fills up, you end up with nothing. That's what frustrated me the whole time I was learning how to do it.” 

“You didn't drink enough water?” 

“No, no— It fills up when you get really turned on. And when I was trying, I was trying way too hard and didn't, uh… I didn't do a lot of foreplay before trying, s-so.” You nod, finishing the explanation in a softer voice. 

Your cheeks feel hot and you swear your upper lip is sweating a bit. Why would you even say that? 

“Y-you didn't touch yourself enough or…?” 

“Exactly, I didn't, I just… Tried t-to stimulate it. Wasn't even wet enough so I used, uh, lube.” 

“Oh… Lube. Sure, okay.” He nods again, and then moves his hand over his face, looking away for a second “And then?” 

“I'm not really sure how to… Give me a second.”

What were you even telling him before exposing yourself like that? Before the tension in the room skyrocketed in a suffocating way? You're not sure. 

Oh, foreplay. Okay, what's next? 

“Fingering,” you say out loud when you remember and at the sudden word Mingi turns to you, eyes wide and you stumble over your words yet again “Y-you need to finger her to stimulate the g-spot, duh.” 

“Don't duh me, Y/N, I'm learning!” 

“Sorry!” 

“Okay! Now what do I do when… fingering.” 

That makes you frown. You're not really sure what to tell him next. So you look straight ahead and, unintentionally, move your ring and middle finger the way you do when you're touching yourself. 

In the silence of the room, you audibly hear Mingi’s breath hitching and that draws you back to reality. 

When you look at him, his eyes are solely focused on your fingers. 

“I don't really know how to explain this next part.” You sound apologetic, your lips tensing into a straight line. 

A bit passes. 

And then another one and another one where Mingi looks at you with a weird, foreign expression on his face. 

So you open your mouth to apologize to him, but he beats you to it. 

“Then show me.” 

You swear you never even heard him sound like that before. Or maybe you have, the tone of voice similar to when he just wakes up, low, grouchy, as if his throat might be dry. 

It just never affected you this way. 

“W-what?” you blink hard, a few times, trying to focus on whatever the hell is going on. 

“Show me how you do it… I-if you want to.” 

“Mingi!” 

“I just— Look, you don't have to,” he says right away “If you don't want to, you can forget I ever asked but I'm so… curious”, he says, getting up from your desk chair and planting his knee into the bed “And I'm also really butthurt over what happened. I want to learn but I don't really have anyone else to ask.” 

“What about, uh… Minseo! Yeah, what about her?” you offer quickly, also getting up. 

“San's ex?!” 

“I don't know any other woman that you also know, Mingi!” 

He gulps and breathes heavily, gathering his words, his thoughts, just like he always does and you remember: This is Mingi. Your Mingi. The Mingi you've known for years and care about more than anything. 

“I'm asking you because I trust you,” he says, looking you over once again “And because if I fail, you're not… going to make fun of me for it.”

There it is. 

You soften at that and he seems to relax at your reaction. His demeanor lets you know he's not just saying that because he wants to see you touch yourself, he's being honest. 

So you decide to be honest, as well. In a whisper, because your voice will tremble and give away how strongly you feel about his request. 

“I've never done it in front of anyone before.” 

“So no one has ever make you—” 

“No,” you confirm before he even gets it out and you sigh “I never ask for it and I haven't really… I've only slept with—” 

“Hangyeol.” He nods and scrunches his nose in disgust at the memory of your highschool boyfriend. They never really got along and it was a shame, because Han was a great guy, he just wasn't the one for you. 

“Mingi,” you walk over to him and he straightens up his spine “This could really… I mean, there's no getting rid of me in this lifetime, buddy,” reminding him makes him smile and you do as well, nervous, your body on high alert “But this could mess us up.” You finish in a whisper. 

“I'm not letting that happen.” He says back, eyes scanning your face before zeroing on your eyes “There's no getting rid of me either, love.” 

That nickname is going to be the death of you, you're sure. It makes you suck in air you very much need at this moment. 

Fuck it. 

“I'll… get the towels, then.” You smile a little even though your cheeks are burning and you feel a little dizzy while holding his gaze, but you don't back down. 

Before you move, though, he stops you with his hand holding your waist “I know where they are. Stay here.” 

You could literally melt right now. And you know it's a short trip to the downstairs hallway closet from your room, so you make sure you strip your duvet before things get messy. 

You should go to the bathroom, too, to clean yourself up a bit before Mingi finds out what you find out when you sit on your bed. 

You're so wet. 

And it's so fucking embarrassing, because you're not supposed to feel this way for him, for this.

Because, if anything, this is clearly just an educational experience.

And if Mingi’s excited look when he re-enters your bedroom tells you otherwise, you're choosing to ignore it for the clearly educational experience’s sake. 

“These will do?” 

You take the two mismatched towels and place them on the bed right away, not even looking at him. 

“Yep.” 

You think he nods but you're not sure, you just caught a glimpse of him moving towards your desk while you pretend to fix the towels in the bed to perfection. 

“Okay, so… You need to, uh, be comfy and shit. Drink water, you just did that a few minutes ago…” when you turn to him, he's reading his notes like he's actually about to conduct an experiment and you chuckle before shaking your head “The… The foreplay part should be next, right?” 

“Right…” you drag out, biting the inside of your cheek before he looks back at you. 

“You look really tense, Y/N,” he deadpans, looking down at his notes again “You need to relax so it can happen, right?” 

“You're about to see me touch myself and you think I can relax?” 

“Oh,” he frowns, immediately and then blinks a few times to refocus, you think “I'm not the one doing it?” 

“Uh… Yes? Later? I thought you wanted to see me first, y-you… You asked me to show you…” 

You can feel him think, the gears on his brain twisting and you think he's going to backpedal at any second because he's not really saying anything. Then you see it, the moment the image crosses his mind. 

And the next second you have him in front of you, towering over your form and then he's not.

Getting on his knees, he tentatively places a hand on your knee and parts your legs so you can make room for him to touch the end of the mattress with his chest and raise his chin just enough to make you think he's asking you to kiss him.

Oh God, you want to kiss him. 

His voice is a sweet murmur when he speaks again “Show me how to get you there, love,” he sounds like he's pleading, like he's begging you to instruct him and your breath catches when he moves his hand up your thigh “What do you like?” 

Your mouth moves before you can even think “Kiss me.” 

You don't even notice you're leaning forward until his breath fans against your chin and he tilts his head even more so that your noses touch. 

“How do you like being kissed?” 

You breathe out a laugh, a little annoyed by his constant questioning “Figure it out, Mingi.” And then the last thing you see is his smirk before his mouth presses against yours. 

It's not what you expect. If anything, you expected him to take the lead. Han used to do so, all the guys you've ever kissed did it as well. You don't really know why his patience surprises you, but it does and if your heart could race even more, it would. 

Because he waits for your guidance, waits for you to grab his shirt and jank him closer, waits for you to sigh against him and then returns the gesture when he feels your fingers move upwards and tangle in his dark hair. 

His mouth is complying to yours, his tongue is exploring it and wetting your lips in the process and you've never felt this good with anyone before. 

That's something you'll need to unpack later, but your brain disconnects when your best friend lets out a noise the second his hands touch your waist under your shirt and you forget, for a split second, that the point of this is to have you on your back pleasing yourself for him to learn. 

Because you want nothing more than to hear him make that noise again. 

The kisses grow needy and so do you when he trails a path with his wet lips from your chin to your neck and the next thing you know is that your back is against the towels you laid down before and his mouth is kissing the valley of your breasts over the cotton of your shirt. 

You look down and it takes a second for him to feel you staring before he looks up at you “Should we take this off?” 

Your voice gives away how gone you are when you reply a simple yes and your shirt is on the floor the next instant. 

Now, you're sure this is not the first time Mingi has seen you in your underwear. You both have gone swimming before and he has walked into your room a million times while you're getting ready. You're even sure he's seen you walk out from your bathroom in this specific bra before… But he's staring at you like it's the first time he's been able to trace the way your breasts spill a little bit over the fabric of this old bra you decided to wear today, like it's the first time he's allowed himself to enjoy it. 

Like it's the first time he's allowing himself to feel any sort of attraction for you. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, shallow breath hitting his cheek when he returns his mouth to your jaw “Let me… Come here.” 

You scoot up until your head rests against your pillows and he follows, resting his body weight on his side and chasing your mouth when you turn your face to him. 

You should speed this up. There's no way you're not going to feel like shit if tomorrow you wake up and remember you're letting yourself enjoy this more than you should. 

There’s no reason for you to lose your breath when his fingertips trace softly the skin under your breasts or for your legs to grant him access so quickly when they reach your belly and bypass every other part of your body before going straight in between them. 

And he notices it too. 

“I don't know why I asked you so many questions before,” he starts, turning his hand so that he back of it and his nails start caressing the inside of your thighs through your sweatpants “I know what you like. I pay attention to you whenever we're talking about sex with the guys.” 

You frown, about to remind him that you never speak directly about your own experiences but he continues his ministrations, giving your other thigh attention “I usually watch you closely in case any of it makes you uncomfortable, but I notice your reactions when they speak about something that you like.” 

Oh. Heart on your sleeve, your biggest flaw. 

“Like that one time Woo was going on and on about marking and you couldn't stop fidgeting on your seat…” his nose traces your jaw softly before his teeth take the skin underneath it and you gasp just enough to prove him right “Or that time Yunho said he hated teasing because he's an impatient little shit” he chuckles, his index finding the spot next to your mound and going down slowly until his knuckle graces the crevice where your leg and your hip connect “and you defended it until we had to stop you guys from yelling each other over it…” 

Your breath shakes and your eyes close at the sensation “Mingi…” 

“Am I wrong?” 

You shake your head no and you can all but hear him smile when he speaks again. 

“Of course I'm not.” 

You open your eyes and expect him to look at you the way he does when you're unable to defend yourself against his quips, but he's not. His eyes are following his own actions and his bottom lip is pulled by his teeth when he takes the fabric of your sweatpants and pulls it up, enough to give you some friction where you need it the most. 

“Can I take this off?” 

“Fuck, y-yes.” 

Joining your shirt on the ground, you're left only in your underwear while Mingi is fully clothed and it bothers you out of nowhere. 

“You're so wet already…” he observes and you blush, puffing some air and covering your eyes with your hand. He just laughs “That's a good thing, it means that I'm doing okay.” 

He's doing more than okay. Damn all the experience he has and the way he reads you so well. 

But his sweet tone gives you some clarity and you support your weight on your hand to fix your position on the bed. 

“Alright, let's… resume the lesson before my parents get home.” 

“They probably won't for now. The company dinners last until like… two in the morning, usually, right?” 

“That's when they decide to go out for drinks.” 

“Your mom always wants to go out for drinks.” 

“Let's not talk about my mom right now!” you beg and he laughs again, making you chuckle alongside him and you're glad he's talking all of this -the kissing, the teasing, the sweet-talk and the wet patch on your underwear- so well. 

The awkwardness from before dissipated the moment he got on his knees in front of you and all that followed was this lovely tension you're dying to keep between the two of you forever even though you shouldn't. 

“Show me, love,” he pleads and you sigh, his mouth finding your cheek for a quick second, encouraging you “And then you can show me how to make you feel good, too.” 

You stare at him for a few seconds “Damn, you're good,” he shakes his head and you smile, getting rid of your underwear and pushing the quick moment of embarrassment being bare with him in the room gives you “Remember that this is what works for me, okay?” 

He nods and then props himself up so he can see it better. 

You take a second before your fingers dive into your wet folds and, when you do, you gasp at the feeling. 

You've never been more wet just for kissing and teasing before. What the fuck. 

You do what you usually do when you're alone for a while and try to contain yourself from moaning because Mingi's eyes keep moving from your fingers to your face. Then, you remember you should be talking him through it, as well. 

“You see how I'm building it up?” you start, chest heaving and he hums as his reply “I'm not trying to make myself come but I'm kinda just… edging myself a little bit.” 

“Edging,” he repeats and then hisses when he sees your thumb pressing into your clit just how you like it, making you sigh heavily “I know all about that, that's good.” 

“Y-you do?” 

“You'll be surprised,” he smiles, proud of himself. 

“Okay,” you continue, taking a deep breath “Then you know about prepping, too,” he nods “So, a finger first…” you say, swallowing hard when your middle finger makes its way into your cavity without much effort. 

Dragging back and forth for a minute or so, you're incapable of containing yourself any longer. Air leaves your mouth in pants and your eyes close when you drag the pad of your finger upwards, locating your g-spot with ease because you're used to it.

“And then, two fingers.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Look at the position of my hand. I read that these two fingers work the best because they're longer than the rest, although…” you look at Mingi's hand over your belly. You didn't even notice before this that he was touching you, but he is and his thumb is tracing a pattern that both relaxes you and sends shivers down your spine “I'm sure that it won't be a problem for you, huh?” 

He sends a cocky smirk your way and you would've smacked him if you weren't so… preoccupied. 

Pressing your precious spot and then dragging back and forward, you stop the movements altogether. It felt too good, way more than good and it's a different sensation of what you're used to. 

And it's all because of him. 

You look at his side profile, his eager eyes commiting to memory what you're doing to yourself, probably taking mental notes now that his notebook is long forgotten over at your desk and… 

He deserves this. He deserves to be the one to have this, just tonight. 

You hate to leave what feels like it's about to be your best orgasm in the hands of someone who's just learning, yet alone a man.

But Mingi is not just any man. 

“Mingi,” you call and his curious eyes leave your heat a second later “your turn.” 

“Did you… Did it happen? I didn't see anythi—” 

“No,” you interrupt him, your fingers leaving you and you turn to him, your clean hand finding his face “show me what you learned.” 

His mouth parts, but you have a newfound confidence and a glint in your eyes that is new, so nothing comes out. 

“Prove that bitch wrong.” 

That seems to do it. 

His eyes go from being confused to spark with determination and want and electricity runs through you again because he seems so relieved he gets to touch you sooner than expected. 

Shyness and nervousness buried six feet under, you both smile to each other before you feel him. 

His fingers gathering your wetness, his thumb finding your clit with ease and expertise. 

“Wettest pussy I've ever touched.” You can tell he's a little lost in the heat of the moment but it's okay. So are you. 

Fuck. 

It's been way too long since someone else touched you this way, so you all but melt at the circles he draws on your clit. He paid close attention before, because he's touching you just the way you like it. 

“That feels so good…” 

“Yeah?” he asks, dark eyes finding yours before a particular stroke forces you to close them. And then he gathers enough slick to insert his ring finger inside and you can't help the moan that slips past your lips. 

You lift your hand to cover your mouth, but Mingi clicks his tongue in feign disappointment “I want to hear if I'm making you feel good, love. Don't hold back on me just because this is unconventional.” 

The worries die altogether with that. 

And now that you have free reign to stop containing yourself, you don't know how to stop. 

It's not long before his middle joins his other finger but he doesn't go for it right away. He fucks you slowly, allowing you to get used to the unfamiliar stretch of his way longer, way thicker digits until they slide in and out with little effort. 

His pace picks up after what feels like ages and your hand fists his shirt for the second time tonight, nodding and moaning in encouragement. 

“Deeper,” you instruct “curl them upwards and go deeper, you'll feel it then.” 

He obeys immediately, his chest heaving and his mouth parting in delight when he finds it. The pad of his finger presses down on it tentatively and your grasp on his shirt hardens.

“Is that it?” you nod and he does it again, which earns another moan “What do I do now?” 

Before you completely get lost in the feeling, you decide to drop the step by step bullshit aside and give him the full instruction in hopes that he'll remember it all without fucking up: “What works for me is pressing… Fuck, yeah, just like that a-and then…” you take deep breath “Just a little harder… Yeah, then rub it in a circular motion while maintaining that same pressure… Fuck, Mingi!” 

He's a little too good at following instructions, because he touches you like he's been doing this forever and soon you feel the familiar swell, the usual buildup of it all and he's taking you over the age like it's nothing. 

You forget how to speak, you forget how to tell him what he needs to do next and so, when you finally explode, you take his wrist and place his two fingers over your clit. 

When you move them side by side, he lets out a fascinated giggle but knows exactly what to do. 

A second later, your release is coating your thighs and the towels underneath you and you don't register anything else because your ears are ringing. 

Did you lose consciousness for a second? It feels like you did. 

That was the best fucking orgasm you've ever felt in your entire life. 

And when you come back down, you only register the sound of your breathing and plump lips kissing your face, his fingers stopping their pace once he realizes you're done with it. 

Opening your eyes, you stare at your popcorn ceiling for a second. Then, you look at Mingi who's already staring at you with a what the fuck just happened expression. 

It makes you laugh. Softly at the beginning, post-orgasm bliss takes over but then Mingi laughs too and your whole chest swells with inexplicable pride. 

You don't think twice before kissing him again. When you realize you did it, you pull back and blink at him like he didn't make you see stars three seconds ago. 

“That was…” his eyes do the thing he usually does. You never notice it until now, but he scans your face so frequently you've grown used to it, but now… It feels different. His teeth nip his bottom lip and he shakes his head before speaking “Come here, love.” 

And then he's kissing you again, slow, intimate, beyond the stupid lesson you just taught him. 

But you don't mind it one bit. 

You sit up, getting on your knees on the bed and basically forcing him to do the same. Ignoring the gross sensation of the wet towel underneath you, you pull him further into you until his chest presses against yours, until his hands roam your body and settle on your waist, securing the embrace. 

This time, when you pull away, there's this whole unspoken new thing between you. 

“That was…?” you press, smiling a bit, pulling both you and him back to reality. 

Right now, with you half naked and his hard-on pressing on your belly, it's not the time to discuss your feelings. 

“Possibly the coolest thing I've seen,” he starts, giggling when you roll your eyes “and the hottest thing I've seen, too,” you shrug, dismissing his stare because it's making you feel hot all over your body, again “and I'm really, really grateful you said yes, love.” 

The soft tone he uses to say the last bit relaxes you and you nod, deciding it's not the time to tell him you never even came like that on your own. 

Instead, you decide to grasp this intimate moment and extend it as much as you can. You can see Mingi is not expecting it when you reach his sweatpants and let your shaky thumb trace the outline of his cock. 

Closing his eyes, he lets out a pleased sigh before he grabs you by the back of your neck and rests his forehead against yours. 

“This is supposed to be purely educational, Y/N” 

“Is that what you want it to be?” you softly ask, pulling your hand away but then his hips buck and chase after your touch, making you smile despite the emotions swelling in your chest “Let me help you… Please…” 

“Fuck, don't beg me, love.” 

“Don't make me beg, then.” 

What the fuck are you even doing? 

“Y/N, I—” he stops suddenly and you're too lost in the moment to notice why. 

But then the sound of keys and a door closing downstairs scares the fuck out of you and you push Mingi away without thinking it through. 

He lands with a thud on your bedroom floor, next to your discarded clothes. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he whispers-shouts, both shocked and offended, but you're getting off your bed and picking up your clothes and the soaked towels so you don't really care about his feelings right now. 

“Bathroom. Now.” 

You're so blessed for having your bedroom right next to the upstairs bathroom. And so blessed that it is your bathroom and you don't have to share it. You’ll get on your knees and thank your gods afterwards, but right now you can only think one thing.

Don't get caught. 

Lord knows you'll never hear the end of it if Mingi walks out of here with a hard-on. Your dad will kill him, your mom will cheer because she loves the idea of you and Mingi together and you'll probably pack your bags and move away if it happens. 

When you lock the door behind you and make a quick show of putting your underwear and pants back on, you hear Mingi chuckle. 

“We can always tell them we're having a sleepover, Y/N, you didn't have to karate kick me off the damn bed!” 

“Hush!” But he just keeps giggling at your very obvious flustered state.

You're about to rip him a new one when he takes two strides, backs you against the bathroom sink, and catches your lips in a quick, sweet kiss and all your worries dissolve just like that. 

“Guess they didn't go for drinks after all..” 

“You think?” cocking your head to the side, the smile on your lips can't be fought at this point. 

He returns it and leans in for another kiss, longer this time and you sigh against his mouth before pulling away because you really, really shouldn't be doing this right now. 

You hear your mother calling your name and then footsteps up the stairs. A murmured she must be sleeping and a hum from your father before they pass the bathroom door. You truly only relax when you hear their door closing at the end of the hallway. 

“Okay, we're safe now.” 

“When were we ever not safe?” 

“When I was half naked on my bed, Mingi!” 

He shakes his head with a smile and takes a step back. 

You clear your throat. 

“I really did want to help you out but—” 

“Raincheck?” he asks and at your hesitation to say yes, he continues “If you want to. If you don't, it's okay. We… We'll figure it out, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He smiles again “Good, uh…” 

Mingi seems unsure on what to do next. Feeling the same, you decide the best thing to do is to get him out of here. 

Opening the bathroom door, you carefully peek into the hallway, taking his hand in yours and beckoning him to follow you down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. 

“Shit, your shoes…” you whisper. 

“I don't think they noticed if they didn't barge into the bedroom to check on us like they usually do, love.” He returns, in the same tone. 

That does nothing to ease your mind, but he makes sure to put them on quickly and then grabs your shoulders, shaking you in a teasing manner. 

“Quit worrying, Y/N. I can feel you thinking.” 

Of course he does. There's no one, in this world, that knows you better than him. 

It makes your heart flutter and it shouldn't. But you're getting on your tippy toes and stealing a parting kiss before you think about it too much. 

It's irresponsible for you to do so, but Mingi grabs your waist and extends the duration of the kiss and suddenly you don't give a fuck about your parents or anyone else finding out about this… shift in your dynamic. 

“See you tomorrow?” he asks against your lips and you nod. 

“See you tomorrow.” 

And with that, he leaves. 

You lock the door and practically run to your room after. 

What the fuck have you done?

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and since it’s an open ending (sort of), let me know if you want a second part! 

© jensthwa, 2024.