#we're just having a conversation about it

[canary3d-obsessed]

I made a resolution a couple of decades ago to never begin a conversation with "I'm sorry I haven't called" or any sort of apology for not being in touch. Because it makes it harder to reach out, if you're dreading explaining/apologizing. And the phone works in two directions--my friend/sibling has obviously also been too busy to call, so why waste precious conversation time on talking about the dreary topic of how busy we are? Instead, just jump right in to the fun part of the conversation.

The next level of this way of thinking is, why talk at all, if we're too busy? My (lifelong) bestie and I text each other pictures of what we're cooking for our kids' dinners. When I get new art supplies, I make a quick video showing them off and I send it to her. We facetime when we can, and sometimes we even get to meet in person, but removing all the "how to have a friendship" requirements from our interactions is how we're able to actually have a friendship.

[myblogisatotalmess]

MILD MOANA 2 SPOILERS AHEAD

I saw Moana 2 as a Polynesian person. I thought it was INCREDIBLE. I know many people already don't really like it, but I think it's because THIS specific movie, they went harder on the Polynesian culture.

The music is even more Polynesian, and written pretty much solely by Polynesian people. The culture is even more included in it's narrative and in the details, they show more tattoos, the Kava ceremony, speaking more of the Pacific Islander native languages, even some the humor is very Polynesian humor.

I personally really enjoyed the storyline, and I liked that it introduced a "morally gray" character to help guide Moana into realizing that you have to just embrace what's given to you. It's a great representation of what the ocean is. It's sometimes not as reliable and friendly as Moana expects it to be, and has grown accustomed to. So when she asks for the ocean's help and receives no answer, she's better prepared to face it as it comes, and adapt, and embrace it.

Not only that, but in terms of Polynesian deities, there isn't just one "good" or "bad". There are complicated morally gray deities. Pele, for instance, is a goddess known for volcanoes and destruction, but she is also known as creation and rebirth. The Earth is scorched by the flames and lava to make way for new land and healthier vegetation.

The songs aren't as "memorable" to those who aren't fully embracing the culture. For me, I got chills hearing the music. It felt authentic and from the heart and soul of the Polynesian people who sang it. Sure, many outside of the culture can't "sing along" to it, but that doesn't make it inherently bad, just because it's not marketable TO YOU.

For someone who's waited forever to have representation, and grew up with Lilo and Stitch being the only one (which wasn't that much in terms of representation.) To then seeing Moana come out when I was 16, and cried then. For then Moana 2 to come out tonight, and I cried AGAIN at 24 years old. My inner child was so excited to hear and FEEL what that representation sounds like, looks like, and means.

The original Moana was tippy-toeing into Polynesian culture, where it could still be marketable so everyone could enjoy it. Because they didn't want it to flop. It feels the same as a Polynesian person having to cater to tourists who only see the Polynesian culture as something they can exploit and be entertained by.

That doesn't mean that it was bad, it was moving tides in that time, and I would take that representation over the crumbs we've had before.

But this movie? Moana 2? This was for US. This was for the Polynesian cultures. This felt like a love letter to us, as a culture, to unite and know that we have community, and to feel seen, in all of our glory, and not a watered-down version to be "marketable" to others outside of our culture.

So, I expect people to not like it. But I also expect it to be because it's coming from a place where they don't understand how it feels to experience, love, embrace, learn, and educate others about Polynesian culture.

I love my culture, and I love my Polynesian siblings as a Kanaka Hawaiian. I love my Maori, Samoan, Tahitian, Tongan, etc. siblings. I love seeing a mix of all of our cultures come together and be represented.

For those who aren't a part of our culture, truly listen to our history and our struggles and successes. Educate yourself on how to be a better ally and find cultural appreciation (not appropriation) for our culture. We are real people with real stories. Not some fictional character (or Halloween costume/party favor/etc.) you can write off and only look at as "entertainment" and can only hold value when we're catering to you. That includes our music, our language, our dances, and our stories.

That's all for now. ❤��� I'll be willing to have adult, civil, conversations with others about differences in why you didn't enjoy it as much, but hate will be deleted and blocked. ❤️

[dreamertf]

College Changes You

/includes: jock tf, getting handsomer, getting taller, gay to straight

Danny looked at Chris in shock. They hadn't seen each other in months, but they both had come back to their hometown for Thanksgiving. Since they were both in town, they decided to catch up over dinner.

Only the man in front of Chris wasn't the same 5'5" twiggy computer science major. The man in front of him was at least 6'3" nearly a foot taller than the old danny, and incredibly buff. Danny was never horrible looking to Chris but it was like a hollywood casting agent had replaced him. He was recognizable if you squinted enough, but the sharp jawline and giant brown eyes just drew you in.

"So what have you been up to man?" Danny was the first to break the silence.

"Uh not much, just school yaknow...."

Chris couldn't stop staring at his huge pecs. Not fully being able to make conversation

"How about you?"

"Oh not much! Recently I invented a new device that lets me change the fabric of reality."

Dan said with a smile, casually. His sensual voice singled out in the loud restraunt, it was like it was the only thing that Chris could focus on.

Chris didn't know how to respond, he watched danny pull out a small device that looked much like a normal smartphone. He tapped a few things and put it back in his pocket.

Suddenly he grew a few more inches to 6'10". His aura becoming much more enchanting, like he was the only thing in the universe thay existed.

As the waitress came over, she couldn't help but only look at the muscular adonis and not Chris.

"What can i get started for you guys?" She said, only looking at Danny.

"Actually, i think we changed our mind, we're gonna go somewhere else. Thank you so much for your help, heres a tip."

Danny said as he got up, gesturing for Chris to do the same. Chris hadn't seen him at his full height yet, it was stange to see his once best friend be a full foot taller than his own 5'10"

The waitress couldnt stop blushing as she just nodded and walked away, as chris stood up he realized he was fully erect.

"Haha already gunnin for it huh?" Danny said as he smirked, flexing his pecs.

---

They walked around a nearby park, chris dumbfounded unable to speak by the giant hunk next to him.

"So, i actually came to meet you for a reason."

Danny wanted him? He couldn't believe it. Chris looked up at him, surprised and blushing.

They both stopped walking as danny held chris' hands.

"I want you to serve me, Chris."

Suddenly, the ground dropped from underneath him as he buckled into himself, pure bliss and euphoria came over him as he came right there.

His limbs elongated and his shoulder broadened as they filled out with muscle. He moaned as his voice dropped a few octaves.

"I want you to take on the persona of a dumb straight frat bro."

Chris clutched his head as he felt his hands grow bigger, his mind losing memories of being any sort of intellectual. He had gotten by with his looks and athletic ability alone, and thats all he needed.

He stood up as his package slithered down his newly formed sweatpants.

"Now look at me pretty boy."

Danny grabbed him by the jaw as his face reformed into a much more appealing form. His jawline sharpened as his eyes lightened. Cheekbones rising as his face became perfectly symmetrical. Danny whispered in his hear one more time

"We're gonna be a couple, but you will be in denial. Girls dont do it like i do."

Danny gave him a long sloppy kiss as he trailed down his new muscular body, making sure to trace each nipple as he licked his way down his taut muscular defined torso.

Chris moaned as he felt danny start bobbing on his 10 inch member. He had never felt anyone's tongue be so skilled. This was far better than any girl he's ever had sex with.

Danny was pleasuring himself as sucked chris off, his huge 18 inch python calling for Chris' hole.

As chris came over and over again he looked down at his bro. Covered in cum.

"Now its your turn to serve me, turn around."

Chris fell into the grass. Pulling down his sweats, his muscular ass straight up in the air, pulsating as it felt it's master so close to it.

Danny felt his slick in his hands as he continued to massage it. He flopped it around a little as he held it by the thick veiny base.

"No homo though though, right?"

"No homo bro"

[erinwantstowrite]

bear with me here because i'm gonna ramble about something i've been thinking about for a while... and i'm not complaining, i'm just noticing

sometimes i think we've leaned so far into the vigilante side of the batfam that we miss out on what really makes their characters: detective work. we need more mysteries in their lives that don't lead up to some big bad "we already know who's doing it" or an "end of the world" or "yet again: this fucking guy." we need more stuff where spy movie music plays in the background and dumb adventures that don't lead up to some huge grand event with a big name villain. the shock factor stops being shocking or interesting in any capacity if we're like "Gah! the Joker! ... Again!" or whatever

does that even make sense? like "yeah sure they're blowing up a building again and there's hostages. oh look they're gonna poison the water supply." these aren't bad and that's not what i'm getting at because obviously this is a classic for comics. you need to have characters/antagonists that show up more than once and who can make a story better by being in it. and i did say to bear with me- that's because im tired. so like i hope im getting this across the right way? it's just that sometimes i don't wanna see a huge explosion, i want these motherfuckers solving a regular murder or a disappearance or regular corruption in a local office without it being tied to a grand reveal like "actually this person knows you as a long lost relative" or "they were at that circus can you guess which night they went?" that kind of thing? if you get me? like... more of the small time stuff makes the big stuff important, it makes it stand out more. at some point, the format gets repetitive even if you're switching up the villains. you can make these situations/mysteries still fun to solve for the characters and fun to read for the audience if you do it right

the concept of a detective dressed as a bat and having a sidekick in traffic light colors is inherently goofy as hell??? but that is what is so charming about it??? i think we have lost the balance between them being silly while also being intelligent with important conversations that criticize the world as we see it and teach lessons and can go over dark topics. nowadays it's always end of the world problems or just straight up the most gruesome true crime you can think of?? or they can ONLY do the dark stuff and the criticism without offering a balance of the good in the world. or we keep coming back to the FUCKING JOKER-

like yes they are vigilantes and with that comes a different level of their work, but their brand should be a mix between a black and white detective film that can get very nitty gritty and a classic spy movie, that kind of thing. at the end of the day, it's what makes them so different from the superheroes. that's what appeals to me.

seeing them in the big superhero groups is fun, don't get me wrong. it's always funny to see them standing next to people who are so powerful they never really fit in with anyone but each other, who chose to step up and use their powers for good. the Bats' specialty is Gotham and yet here they are stopping a god or whatever. and they do stop the god or whatever, all the while being an important leader and strategist to their teammates. they're important to have in these cases. but if there's a world ending event every time i pick something up, it's not as fun

the fact that they are so very human and not fantastical is why i like reading them. it's what makes the joke of people, even Gotham citizens, theorizing about them being cryptids, funny. they're fucking weird but that's because they're detectives. people who love to solve mysteries usually have a fatal flaw of curiosity. they forget the bounds between social interactions sometimes because they're used to working through problems or being intertwined with partners that understand them. but they're very much human. so human that it hurts them in many ways. and idk i've just been thinking about it lately and idk what point i'm trying to get across actually

it's just that in my eyes that's how it really is for Batman- a black and white movie narrated by a very serious man who took up a job to help people, one that has a deeper commentary on the world and viewed outwardly as pessimistic but actually has a deep hope for his city and who tries to help even the people who have wronged others. He's a stationary man in the belief that him being a constant can serve to soothe others and help them move forward. He stays in the middle of the path so he can tell everyone what is up ahead. he blends into the Gotham rainy night to serve justice but in a way that saves both the victim and the perpetrator. (the way he tucks a Robin into his cape is the same he does for Gotham with his mere presence.) and his background is actually so important to his story and yet people still somehow gloss over the lesson from it? he lost his parents because of a man who was on the opposite end of the spectrum to where he was in life. and yet he chose to help the people like the man that killed his parents. he could have done anything else with his power and money, but he instead is choosing to bring as many people up with him as he can. He's Mr. Serious that no one else can get a read on. and yet he walks into a room and he's already piecing together your life and what you're going through because he thinks it matters. he comforts people who have lost something or someone or themselves. I picture Batman and I don't picture a man trying to save the world, I picture a detective walking around a crime scene and trying to save at least one person every time he puts on the cape. and he put on the cape and became a vigilante because then he could go out of the bounds of what laws have been set up- and specifically, Gotham has other people in power who are corrupt, keeping the system that way. that's why Batman being a billionare and throwing himself into helping people at the risk of his own life is so important. he knows that if you are alive, you have something or someone to lose, no matter who you are. the dude is a bleeding heart but he doesn't know how to express it, in fear that if he gets too close, if he moves down the path with them, he'll be lost again

and then he's met with someone who should be a complete opposite, but isn't at all, because they're two sides of the same coin. his partner in crime, his son, a boy that is nothing like the black and white world that he sees. and that's the point in his life where he first sees that potentially getting lost is worth the risk. Robin is color and passion that needs guidance to move forward, but can not do so unless the stationary man learns to move with him. the kid is loud and reckless and you'd think he's from a different genre from the detective but they aren't so different, really. not when you look close enough. Dick grew up moving from place to place and seeing the world, knowing so many different people from different cultures. He's been learning to fly and jump and embrace the free fall his entire life. He's clever and he's sharp, and he thrives in the action and adventure. it's that perspective that compliments the stationary man. one is steady and the other pushes. he's the same genre but a different generation. and Batman introducing him to the way of life he chose for himself was another way he could save someone. because let's be real for a second? Dick would have gone down a very dark path had he not had Bruce, who understood, who saw not just himself in the kid but also saw who the kid has been his entire life until now. he saw Dick's parents, he saw the family he had in the circus, he saw the joy he had in what his family was doing. he saw the grief and the fire and the color that Dick's world was made of. because to Bruce, it always matters. Dick had to come to terms with Bruce's perspective to help anyone who they come across, to always give more chances, and it kept Dick from losing his color

what gets me is that the man who lives in the black and white world can actually see many different shades of gray (because black and white always needs the medium), whereas the boy in a world of color and light can get so focused on the bright that he can become single minded. and yet the boy sees a world of color and delves deeper into the lives of the peolle they come across and can be much more open minded, and the man in the black and white world sometimes forgets the shades of grey are right there. they are just like each other. they can exist without the other, but do they want to? because the black and white can be built up into the colored image, like the inking and shadows drawn on a comic book page before the colors are added in. they meet in the middle to complete each other. Bruce has been passing the story over to the next generation for a long, long time, even before his story was complete. and just like with the first Robin, it was so for every Robin afterwards. they each color in the lines differently, but that's what makes Robin so special, so unique. they are an art style that branches into their own life, but can not forget where they started: tucked into Batman's cape and the inky black of his world

and so detective work really frames their hunanity to me. the mysteries they get their hands on, the glimpses into the lives of Gotham citizens that they swore to protect, it's fascinating. it's what makes their story stand out compared to the people who can lift trucks or cast spells or run around the world in seconds. so yeah ig that's what i'm trying to say? that i want to read more of that? in both canon and fanon. cause even the small time villains we see can be like. AWFUL people and it takes out the fun of their gimmicks. and if it were any other day this would be a more coherent post but alas, it is not any other day

[dr-dendritic-trees]

GOOD GOD.

I have seen this post like 15 times and I can't take it any more.

There is a specific reason why this doesn't work and it isn't because people don't want to talk to you. You are fun and people want to talk to you but you gotta help them out!

Remember, people use tumblr in weird ways, they're on and off it, if they're scrolling fast they're probably getting usernames mixed up, and frankly, we're all a bunch of shy weirdos here. So we all love and delight in the idea of people messaging us, but none of us know what to say.

When you pop into someone's messages with "hey you seem cool" they have to scramble to remember which of their treasured followers they are and select a topic and bring it up, and not sound like a weirdo while they do it. So if you're busy/tired/anxious you say "olh, I'll do that when I have time/energy/spoons... and we all know how that ends...

Fortunately, there is a simple easy formula for preventing this whole unfortunate situation. PROVIDE A TOPIC. Pick a post. Send the post, say "hey this is so cool, I want to talk about it/had ideas about it/want your ideas about it".

When there's a topic at hand people can just respond. Just take charge of the conversation in this tiny way. It works so much better. I promise. It also reduces risk you'll be mistaken for a bot. It really is both easy and fun!

Messaging people for the first time is so hard. What am I supposed to say? Like, "You seem really odd and your blog intrigues me. Do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters?" What! Whatever. I will just follow you back and stare at your blog with my big beautiful brown eyes.

[peachiejeongin]

Jealousy | Lee Know

Synopsis: You and Lee Know have been best friends for as long as time can tell; however, a third party has ignited an unfamiliar negativity in him, and he is finally ready to handle it himself.

Pairing: jealous! dom!LK x fem!reader (Reader has breasts and a vagina, and uses she/her pronouns !)

Genre: Smut, a bit of Angst, Fluff towards the ending

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content (18+), marking, breast-play (sort of), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (please use protection my loves!), pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc.), Minho is extremely jealous and possessive, Minho quite literally answers the phone during sex [As always, please inform me if I missed anything!]

Word Count: 9k

Notice: Hello, my darlings! I have missed you all dearly! I recently acquired a bit of inspiration to get back into writing, so enjoy a Lee Know smut drabble I wrote a while back :)

Smut under the cut!

"Hey, I feel like we're getting off topic again," Minho bluntly states, cutting you off in the middle of your chatter. You glanced at him, your mouth slightly agape from the abrupt interruption. "You do remember that hanging out today was your idea, right?"

Of course, you remembered it was your idea; after all, you had made the plans last minute, just that morning. You invited Minho over for a movie and a catch-up night, since you hadn't seen him in a few days. You expected a normal evening with him; however, hanging out felt strange. In fact, it had felt unusual ever since a certain third party had entered the picture.

You had recently started talking to another guy and had unintentionally began spending more time with him than with Lee Know. As of late, though, this new guy seemed to be distancing himself from you; he would often go days, or even up to a week, without speaking to you. Then, he would reappear in your life as if nothing had happened, claiming to have been, "busy."

Your best friend saw right through the guy's facade; he knew the guy was only seeking attention from you, and he was not tolerating it. Despite Minho's clear disapproval, it seemed as if the guy consumed much of your conversations lately; in fact, Minho interjected as you were once again delving into another tangent about the guy's behavior. It had become a predictable cycle: the guy would reappear after ghosting, make plans, and vanish again. Frankly, Lee Know was growing tired of it.

"Yeah, I know hanging out was my idea. Why wouldn't I remember that?" you questioned, a confused expression present amongst your features.

Minho scoffed. "Because it's not feeling like it," he said. You raised one eyebrow, urging him to explain further. "I understand you want advice and my personal input on what's going on with this potential guy, and I can help you out with whatever as your friend..." He paused briefly, letting out a deep sigh as he continued, "I'm trying really hard not to be a jerk about this, but I really thought today wasn't going to revolve around this again."

"Min, I get where you're coming from, but I feel like you're making it seem like I've been talking about this guy non-stop, which I haven't." Upon your response, Minho could not stop himself from narrowing his eyes and chuckling coldly.

"Literally, since I brought you that water, you have not stopped talking about him."

"Yes, I have! I've talked about so many other things, and-"

"When?" he promptly cuts you off again, his voice raising slightly. "I mean, seriously? When I first came over, you were all like, 'Hey, I need your opinion. Can you look at this for a sec?'" Lee Know mirrored your prior actions by shoving his phone in your face.

What had you shoved in Lee Know's face exactly? A message from the guy stating, "Sorry, I've been busy." The date on the message read 8:41P.M., not even thirty minutes ago. The last message you had sent, on the contrary, read Monday, November 18th.

Over a week ago.

You wanted Minho's honest opinion; after all, he was your only friend that would give you the truth instead of what you wanted to hear. Thus, the truth he gave: "How many times do I have to tell you this guy is not worth it?"

And so, you find yourself connecting the dots on previous events.

"I may have asked for your opinion, but I didn't shove my phone in your face," you argue, pushing his phone away by instinct. You were becoming increasingly annoyed at his behavior.

"Yeah, you did," he retaliated, retracting his phone. "You shoved your phone in my face just like that." You opened your mouth to counter; however, no sound came out. All thoughts on how to go against him had completely dissipated from your mind. You closed your agape jaw in defeat and stared grimly at the floor. Lee Know rolled his eyes harshly.

"I told you last time, and I'll tell you again, it means he's not worth your time. This guy is clearly only trying to hit you up when it's convenient for him, and you know that, too."

Minho's grievances mirrored but also contrasted your own. Of course, he was agitated with your behavior, but the hinderance came from a divergent perspective; he knew you were smarter than this, you had to be. There was absolutely no way you could not see the clear convenience you were to this guy. Minho could not tell if you were intently playing dumb in order to lessen the blame or if you were simply blind sighted by this guy.

Either way, he was fed up.

You could not wrap your head around the guy's actions, however. Just the other night, the two of you had went on a date that went pleasantly well. How was he able to change up so quickly?

You made mention of your thoughts aloud: "But...the last date we went on..."

"What about it?" Minho sat up and threw his hands sharply to his sides in a vexed manner. He leaned back on his palms, his eyebrows furrowed as he awaited your response.

"It just...It went really well is all..." You shrugged and folded your arms over your torso. You tapped your foot against the hardwood floor as you apprehensively glanced up at Minho. He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his temples.

He put his glasses back on, took a deep inhale, and cupped his hands in your direction.

"So what if the date went really well, Y/N? That doesn't excuse what he's been doing. He's basically ghosted you for an entire week, and it's been, what? Three times now?" Minho's acute words stung. You knew he was right, but it was still taking you time you wrap your head around one aspect:

Why?

"I get that things aren't official yet," he continued, snapping you out of your thoughts, "but you have to see that this guy is-"

"I just don't understand why, Min," you interrupted him this time. "What even is going to happen after this?" He narrowed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"Look, i really don't want to be your counselor again," Lee Know shook his head while chuckling out of aggravation. "But, obviously, he's gonna try to make up every excuse and try to act sweet when he finally responds."

"What if he really has been busy, though?" you desperately reply, attempting to convince yourself more than anything. Minho did not shoot a glance at you this time, the annoyance clear on his sunk in expression.

"Look," he stated directly in attempts to get you to listen. "It might be more acceptable if you two were going into this potential relationship expecting it to be a casual kind of thing, y'know, with no strings attached. But, that's not what you've been telling me, and he knows exactly what this is supposed to be. He's the one that's not respecting your time, or my time for that matter because I constantly have to listen to what a piece this guy sounds like."

"He...He hasn't been acting like there's no strings attached! Just the other day, he-" You huffed in efforts to tell Minho about how the guy denied another girl's number at the arcade on the last date, even going so far as to call you "his girl." Once again, however, Minho interjected.

"You are really starting to annoy me." his words cut; they were honest, yet brutal. "There is no way you are this stupid, y/n. Come on: not responding for weeks at a time? Love bombing when he does respond? That's acting like no strings attached." You considered Lee Know's words for a brief moment. Upon this, you finally had a realization:

"Maybe...Maybe he's not worth it anymore."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Minho responded with a chuckle mixed of disbelief and humor. "Get rid of him; you would be doing us both a favor that way."

You nodded in sorrow, staring down at your phone. Despite the comment you had made, part of you was still hoping you would look at your lock screen and there would be a text message from him.

"So, you're not going to talk to him anymore. Deal?" Minho ponders, snapping you out of your train of thought.

"No. No, I'm not going to talk to him anymore." You set your phone down on your lap, your foot still tapping nervously.

"So, we're done with this?" he follows up with a second question.

"I don't know, Min," you admit, causing Minho to intake a rough breath. "I mean, I still can't comprehend it. He's so sweet and caring, and he's really good in-"

"No, I don't wanna hear about it, y/n!" Minho finally snaps, managing to keep his voice stern but calm.

"What? Why? I thought you were supposed to be here for me?" you ask, once again hurt by his words.

"I am here for you, but I don't like hearing about these guys you're seeing," Minho growled, his voice tinged with frustration. "I just really do not need to know about all of that, okay? Just put it down, and let's not talk about this anymore."

"Okay, okay. Fine. What do you wanna talk about?" You finally look up at Minho, your eyes sunk in and arms crossed with defeat.

"Well, I was thinking," he began, his voice a lot more gentle, "that we could talk about, and this is just a wild idea, but something related to us instead?" He accentuated his words with a few lighthearted chuckles.

"Hm, yeah. Did you have something specific in mind?" you inquired, your demeanor beginning to soften but your eyes still narrowed in slight frustration.

"I did have something. I actually already had this in mind before you got me offtopic earlier," he teased briefly, "but I was thinking since we both have some time off next week, we should go out and eat somewhere!" Minho's eyes seemed to beaming as bright as his smile; he took pride in the fact that he was able to deter your attention back to him, back to where it was supposed to be, he thought. He missed you dreadfully, and the suggestion of going out to dinner had been plaguing his mind since he walked through your front door.

"Oh yeah?" you asked rhetorically. "What place did you have in mind?" You returned his grin with a soft, half smile of your own. You could not deny you had missed spending time with him has well; however, the thoughts of your admirer still clouded your better judgement. Unintentionally, you began to stare off into space as Lee Know began his reply.

"There's been this one new place that I've been wanting to try. I think it would be nice," Lee Know explained as he began to describe the new traditional restaurant that had just opened up not even a couple of blocks away from your apartment. Lee Know ended his description with a cheeky, "Plus, I feel like you kind of owe me one anyways." This statement snapped you out of your endless distraction. You turned your head in his direction quickly, your eyebrows furrowed and a slight frown present on your face, replacing the half-smile that was just present.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you interrogated, your tone coming off more accusatory than attended. Minho raised a teasing eyebrow to accompany his ever-present smile, which now had morphed into more of a smirk; he was slightly taken aback by your sudden yet slight outburst.

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he responded unequivocally, nodding his head with each accentuation of the sentence. "I'm just saying that you've been so busy with your new guy that we haven't had a chance to hang out lately. Remember last week? When you flaked on me...twice?" Minho's smile had slightly faded, his demeanor becoming solumn in contrast to the previous cheeky behavior.

You did remember essentially leaving Minho in the dust last week, although you did not want to. You and Minho had planned a night together, similar to the one you were having at this moment; however, on the night of the planned venture, the new guy had messaged you out of the blue and asked if you wanted to grab dinner with him that night. All reason had fled from your mind at that moment as you texted back, 'Yes!' without thinking twice about your plans for the night. It was not until Minho had began to blow up your cellphone with messages such as, 'Where are you?' 'y/n, i'm at your apartment,' and 'hello? what the hell?!' when you remembered. You quickly replied, explaining what had happened and that you would be home soon in a desperate attempt to please both parties, yet your response was met with, 'Don't bother. I'm going home.'

With this failed endeavor, you and Minho had attempted to reschedule your arrangements for the next night; thankfully, Minho had the whole week off from schedules, and it was your fall break from classes. You had made a slight adjustment to visit the cinema rather than a move night at your apartment. Yet, this attempt succeeded just as much as the first did, and it went about the same way; it was as if the guy had some sort of radar detecting the days you and Minho had planned to hang out so he could steal you away.

As you dreadfully remembered the events of the prior week, you scoffed and refused to give up your stern standpoint on the matter.

"You sound jealous, y'know that?" was the response your anger-stricken brain formulated. You had stated it without thinking, honestly, and you instantly regretted it once Minho leaned back on the couch, his arms crossing and his mouth slightly agape in pure vexation.

"I sound what?" he inquired stiffly, his dark brown eyes staring daggers into your gaze. "Jealous?" he repeated the word as if he could not believe the statement, which to some degree he could not. He followed up the repitition with a couple of brutal snickers as he shook his head in disbelief. His stare had now found its way boring holes into the wall beside him. "Very funny. I'm not jealous," he claimed as if he was trying to convince himself of the matter rather than you. He shifted his gaze towards the floor as he continued, "I just think you should follow through when we make plans."

"You know we can always reschedule," you responded somberly as you glanced out of the window to your right in order to avoid eye contact with Minho.

"Yeah, you can reschedule, but you ended up cancelling that too," Minho fixed his eyes upon you, specifically how you were still refusing to look at him. You knew the truth to his words, which only made the guilt to felt ten times worse; still, you refused to let your guard down, responding to his truth with a skeptical head shake. You rolled your eyes as you did so, and you shifted your gaze to side eye the male.

"Do you not hear yourself? You are jealous, otherwise you wouldn't be speaking like this, or bringing up last week!" There was no denying your rage at this moment; you were tired of Minho bringing up your faults, especially when it was in relation to this guy. Minho's tongue prodded at his cheek and his vacant expression darkened. There was a brief silence as Minho contemplated what to say in order to get his point across and not sound like a total jerk.

"Okay," he started, "now, you're just imagining things. I'm not jealous." You chuckled slightly, turning your gaze back to focus on the rain pittering against the windows outside.

"Sure," you replied quite coldly with a strained, sarcastic smirk plastered upon your face. Minho frustratedly breathed in and took a slight glance towards the ceiling.

"Fine," he threw his hands up slightly, "y'know what? Forget it. Let's just drop this." He attempted to change the topic of conversation, both because he was tired of talking about his feelings, but also because there was a minuscule aspect of him that knew you were correct. "But, if you happen have time to allocate next week, is that a yes or a no on the restaurant thing?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. Minho was JUST on your case, and now he is bringing the subject of the restaurant.

He is so jealous, you thought.

That was not what came out of your mouth, however. Instead, you sighed as a way to release the lingering tidbits of bottled-up anger you felt and responded with a simple question: "What did you say the name of the place was again?" Minho paused for a moment in an attempt to remember the answer to your question.

"Uh, I don't remember the exact name, but it opened up right next to the theatre," Minho did his best to recollect the traditional restaurant, but could only remember its location.

"Is it that one new silverish building with all of the fairy lights hanged near the entrance?" you inquired genuinely, your body beginning to relax from the intensity of aforementioned events. Minho nodded slightly, finally feeling a sense of relief that you were endulging in a conversation unrelated to the guy.

"Yeah, yeah, that building. The name was, uh," Minho attempted to recall the name of the restaurant once again, and partially succeeded, "Great...something." You laughed at his inable memory, causing him to eye you up and down in a playful manner. "Listen, I had the name in my head for the entire day!"

"Likely story! Where'd it go then?" you asked him cheekily, leaning in a bit closer to him on the couch as if to accentuate your question. Lee Know moved away from you in sarcastic disgust as he returned your giggles.

"I don't know! For some reason, it's just on the tip of my tongue right now," Minho returned to his normal sitting position as he racked his brain for the name of the restaurant.

"Is it...is it 'Great Bake?'" you asked as you recalled seeing a grey building that matched the description of the restaurant. Minho looked at you, confusion etched all over his face.

"No, that's a cookie shop!" Minho chortled at your futile attempt at recollecting. "Plus, that place has been there for years now. But I mean, we can go there if you want." You tilted your head at the suggestion before slowly shaking it.

"No thanks. I'd rather go for a meal than for cookies. They make my stomach ache," you rubbed your stomach as you stated the last part in order to adorn your words with comicality.

"Are you sure?" Minho asked you genuinely. "Because I don't mind going for desert after. Or we could go for Boba afterwards if you prefer."

"Nah," you politely declined his offers. "I think the meal will be enough for me."

"You sure?" Minho inquired once more. "It can be my treat!"

"You don't have a reason to treat me," you retaliated in a half-serious half-silly demeanor. Lee Know shook his head in response.

"There doesn't have to be a reason."

"You're just never this considerate is all." Another reply you would slightly regret the moment is escaped your lips. Minho threw his head back, his ego slightly hurt at your statement.

"I am always considerate, hello?" he countered sounding a tad vexated. "What kind of image do you have of me?"

"Well, if you're always considerate, is dinner going to be on you too?" you inquired, crossing your arms brazenly as you awaited an answer.

"You..." Minho's voice quieted as he let out a string of adorning giggles. "No, relax. I am only covering the dessert portion." You scoffed, this one coming out in an exuberant manner in contrast to the previous ones out of annoyance.

"So, I'll pay for dinner in order to make it up to you, I guess, and you'll pay for dessert?" You had decided to concede to Minho's proposition about the cookies and boba. He beamed brightly at your own proposal.

"Okay, let's do that then!" his words were laced with a joyous hint, which made your heart smile. You had a newfound exhileration for the endeavor; as such, you asked Minho if he was excited in order to ensure that the feeling was reciprocated.

"I am, yeah! I am excited for the food!" Minho poked fun towards you, causing you to lightly smack the back of his head. "I'm just kidding, y/n. Of course I am excited for the food, but also because you and I, y'know...I said it earlier, but it really has been a while since we've been able to catch up. Like, not just surface level stuff in our lives, and I've really missed-"

Minho's endearing ramble was interrupted by a buzz of your cellphone; the guy's name appeared on your phone screen in the form of an iMessage. A second buzz quickly followed, and you almost lept at the coffee table in attempts to retrieve your phone. You came to a stop just as your hand grasped the device, and you slowly looked up from the table, making dejected eye contact with Minho. The grin on his face swifty disappeared, and he sighed as he looked down at the ground one more.

"I'm sorry, Min. Do you...mind if I answer this real quick?" You figured it was at least alright to ask, but you took note of how upset he appeared as the inquiry left your mouth.

"Uh, yeah, go ahead. Can't really ignore that, right?" Minho never looked up from the ground as he spoke, and the last fragment of his sentence came out in a snarky bearing.

"I mean I can if, if you want me to," you stuttered, and Minho just shook his head in disapproval.

"I know if you try not to check your phone, you're just going to get distracted from the conversation," Minho paused, taking into consideration how you were hyper-focused on your phone, your fingers were already moving at the speed of light to type out a reply to the guy. "And it looks like you're already doing that anyways." You glanced up from your phone, your face contorted into a confused expression with your eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed together.

"Why are you making that face at me?" Minho catechized your expression as if it was the most unnecessary item in the world. "It's him again, I know it is. I told you not to bother with him anymore, so why are you even thinking about responding?" You were silent, a culpable feeling engulfing your body.

"He. He apologized, and he said-"

"It doesn't matter what he's saying!" Minho snapped outrageously, instantly standing and unintentionally towering over you. "Are you serious right now? We just talked about this!" His fists were clenched by his side, and his eyes were narrowed in exasperation. Before he could let his emotions take over, he took a couple of steps away from you and removed his glasses one more, rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes to seemingly rid them of the stress he was feeling. "Y'know, this is really starting to piss me off."

"Why? Why does it matter so much to you?" you queried, careful not to let the lump building up in your throat waiver your voice. Minho looked at you as if you had lost your sanity.

"Because I thought we were done with this, y/n."

"It's none of your business, Minho!" You had stood up now as well in order to mirror the actions of your friend. He took a step closer to you, his expression vexing further if that was fathomable.

"No, it wasn't my business initially, but you kind of went and made it my business with how often you rubbed this in my face. What, you expect me not to care about what happens to you?" You jeered at Minho's question, slapping a hand against your thigh in frustration.

"Can you just admit you don't like the fact I'm hanging out with a guy who isn't you? That's what the whole problem is here! Like I said: you're jealous, Minho." You crossed your arms as you stared up at the taller boy, who rolled his eyes in the middle of your reply.

"Here you go again with the jealousy thing," Minho huffed. "Look, I'm really annoyed already, so can you stop messing around, please?"

"I'm not messing around," you defended your stance. "You're only worried about me because another guy is in the picture."

"I am worried about you as a friend, y/n, and I'm saying from a platonic standpoint that he is not worth it," Minho retaliated, the annoyance becoming more prominent in his voice with every word he spoke.

"Meaning what exactly?" you prodded further. At this point, Minho was not sure if you were simply asking questions because of sheer confusion or to get on his nerves. It was a mix of both in reality; you could not deny the immense joy you felt from pushing Minho to his limits, yet you also could not fathom why he was so passionate about his stance on this guy.

"Meaning that I don't want you to see him anymore." Minho thought the response sounded better in his head. You widened your eyes once you heard it.

"Okay, so you're jealous and possessive." You moved your finger as you spoke as if you were making some sort of air-bullet list. Minho's mouth gaped slightly open and he sneered.

"Now I sound possessive? I'm really not, but sure, if you'd like to add that into your mix of ideas about me, too." Minho attempted to walk away from the conversation, but you grabbed his shirt sleeve to make him stay put.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" you asked for the nth time that night. Minho looked down at your hand's grasp on his shirt sleeve, then back up at you before scoffing once again, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

"You have not seen me being possessive at all, sweetheart," he remarked with a boldness present in his voice. "I don't want to get into this right now."

"And why is that?" The pure curiosity within you had vanished; now, the questions were purely to push Minho's buttons. You had already gotten him so far towards the edge, so what harm would an additional shove do?

"Because if I were being possessive, I would say, 'You're not going out with him again. I'm not letting him have you.' That is what I would want to say," Minho's sultry gaze bore into your own, and you felt your knees tremble slightly and your heart quicken its pace. You did not understand why you had began to feel this way, but it was exciting.

And you wanted more.

"Are you still insisting on this as a friend, Min?" As you uttered those words, you made an essentially bold move; you moved your hand from his shirt sleeve to his palm, nearly intertwining his hand with yours. The mere movement made Minho's breath hitch.

"Well, I, uh," Minho took a deep breath before continuing. "How much are you going to push me? If you asked me like that then you already have an idea, don't you?" He instinctly moved his thumb over your knuckles as he began his honest vouch. "You're right. I have been feeling jealous for a while now. I don't know when it started, but I am. Having to think about you and this guy going out has obviously only made it worse." Your gaze softened as you squeezed his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me, Min?"

"Because I didn't think I would care this much, so how was I supposed to tell you?" Minho genuinely asked this question, but you did not respond.

"So, is that all?" Minho scoffed at your returned question.

"Excuse me? Of course it's not," he stated like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Do you really want to know what else I've been keeping to myself?" Before you realized what you were doing, your body took control over your mind, allowing your head to nod in agreement rapidly, earning a, "Are you sure about that?" from Minho.

"Are they," you began, feeling a slight tremble in your voice so you paused for a moment. "Are they about me?"

"Mhm. They're related to you. The things that I've wanted to do, thought about doing. It's more than I'm willing to say on its own," he responded casually, the chillness yet unintentionally seductive manner causing you to instinctively cross your legs and slightly rub them together.

"Don't say it then," you replied near instantly, an anxious hitch present in your voice. "Show me." Minho quirked an eyebrow, repeating your words to make sure he understood you correctly. He sighed deeply, almost longingly.

"If you insist, then fine. C'mere," he planted a firm hand on your upper back and pulled you impossibly close towards him. Before you could question his actions, his lips were on yours, kissing you like he had no time left in the world. You were shocked at first, but you quickly melted into the kiss, a few whimpers escaping from your mouth as the two of you embraced. After about thirty seconds, Minho pulled away, smiling at how swollen your lips appeared after such a short period of time.

"I like you," he stumbled over his words as he spoke. "More than I was ever planning to or ever supposed to." He accompanied his confession with a gentle caress of your cheek, a lazy grin accompanying his features. "Seeing you talk about that guy just made me realize how much it bothered me, and," he took a short stop, the light in his eyes morphing into an expression of lust, "if I could have my way with you...if I could do anything that I wanted, then I would keep you all to myself." The hand he had placed on your cheek shifted downward until it found purchase on your waist. Minho's words and subsequent actions had you feeling hot. Everywhere.

"Minho, I never expected you to be this way," you chuckled both out of astonishment and nervousness towards Lee Know's possessiveness.

"Yeah, I don't think you've ever seen how greedy of a person I can be," he responded with an anxious chortle of his own. "I tried to maintain being friends, and obviously I couldn't act like that, could I?" You shook your head, agreeing with his statement.

"Well, maybe I like the way you're acting right now," your hands placing themselves against his chest. You stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Maybe I want to see that side of you." The reaction Minho felt from your words went straight down.

"Why?" he whispered in return, his own voice sounding like a whine rather than an octave.

"Because...there is a slight chance I feel the same way you do, and I am curious as to how far this side of you extends." Your hands had began to slide up and down Minho's chest, allowing him to release a soft groan.

"Alright then," he replied as both hands now softly grasped your waist. "If you were mine, then I would definitely be a lot closer than this." Once Minho stated this, he gently maneuvered the both of you back over the couch, softly laying you down and hovering over top of you. The heat within your body was growing, and your heart was pumping with adrenaline at the sight of your best friend on top of you.

You could not believe that this was reality.

"Probably this close would be more accurate," he added on with a cheeky smirk, although his heavy breaths contrasted the slyness of his attitude. He had one hand on your lower back and the other softly brushing over your left cheek. "I wouldn't be able to help myself from here though," he leaned down to the crook of your neck, just to where his lips were ghosting the lobe of your ear. "I would make sure everyone knows you're mine," he alluringly whispered as he moved your hair away from the skin of your neck. "Especially here to start," he murmured before diving down to kiss the exposed area. "The things you do to me," he muttered as he kissed, licked, and sucked love marks into your neck. You did your best to keep quiet; however, no matter your best efforts, a string of hearty whines fell from your lips with every sensual movement Lee Know performed.

It felt like Heaven on Earth.

Minho was setting a rhythm to his actions when he was crudely interrupted by yet another buzz from your cellphone. You instinctually moved to grab it, only to be met with Lee Know sighing in annoyance. He swiftly grasped your arm and pinned it down to your side.

"Stop," he commanded in a frustrated yet enduring tone. "Don't answer it. Look at me." He took his free hand and tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He delved down once more, this time finding your lips rather than your neck. This time, he slipped his tongue past your lips and yours impulsively fought back for dominance, allowing you both to explore one another's mouths. One of your hands found residence in his soft brown locks of hair, tugging on them lightly and eliciting a few moans from his ends.

Yet, all good things must come to an end, it seems.

Another buzz came from your phone, causing both you and Minho to let out groans of irritation.

"Give me that," Minho demanded, outstretching his arm for you to hand your phone to him. You automatically did as he asked and placed your phone in his grasp, to which he put it on the head of the couch behind him, making it to where you could not reach it.

"You're done with him."

With that, Minho went back to kissing you as if his life depended on it, taking note of the equal fervor your kisses contained. Hands were roaming everywhere, lips were encapsulated with one another's, blood flow was pumping to the maximum. It felt perfect. Minho pulled away to catch a breath of air, slightly chuckling against your lips at your flushed state. You had not even been making out for five minutes, and you already appeared disheveled with your bangs sticking to your forehead and your eyes blown with a glint of need.

"You really wanted this, too, didn't you?" Minho quieried, concentrating on keeping his gaze focused on yours. You let out a quiet 'mhm' in response, causing Minho's brazen smirk to reappear. "Were you trying to get a reaction out of me? Just so I would take it this far?" Minho moved your sweaty strands of hair out of your face as he anticipated a response.

"I wasn't trying to at first, I promise," you riposted sounding entirely breathless, partially because you were. "But it just got so fun seeing you all worked up over me." This caused the both of you to giggle; although, the humor was swiftly overtaken by hunger as Minho scanned your body up and down.

"How about I get back to making sure everyone knows you aren't available, hm?" He did not alott time for a response before beginning to kiss your neck once again. "Fuck, you have such a pretty neck," he groaned as he began to resume his prior actions of sucking, biting, and kissing every exposed spot he could access. He continued his endeavors for a long time, only pausing when your moans became as high pitched as a shriek. He pulled away briefly, analyzing the spots in which he had just finished orally assaulting.

"What? Are you sensitive here?" he inquired, gently rubbing his thumb over the spot for emphasis.

"Y-yes, Min, oh my God," you moaned out, desperate to have him reattach his lips to your skin. As if he could read your mind, he did just what you desired, focusing intently on your sensitive spots and relishing in the strangled moans you released as he did so.

You had almost completely lost yourself in the moment until yet another buzz came from your cellphone. Minho released an agitated noise before pulling away from the love-mark he had just embellished upon your neck.

"What the fuck does this guy want?" He read over the text message you were sent, scoffing in response. "A little too late to be texting this now," he remarked and set your phone back on the upper couch cushion.

"What did he say, Min?" Minho leaned back down seemingly even closer than he was before and pressed a short kiss to your temple.

"Don't worry about it, Sweetheart," Minho answered. "You're not seeing him again, and even if he does run into you, I think he'll get the message when he sees these marks all over your neck." Minho accompanied his words by glancing down at your neck; where there was once a smooth skin tone now housed marks of red, purple, and pink, almost resembling some form of a darkened sunset.

"They're so pretty," he whispered as he ran his fingers gently over the blemished marks. "I like seeing proof of my work on you. I want to mark you all over your body," he confessed, instead opting to mark your lips with a kiss in that moment.

"Lift up your arms for me," Minho babbled against your lips. "These clothes are getting in the way." You did just as you were commanded and raised your arms above your head. Minho made quick work of the baby blue crop top you had chosen to wear that day, pulling it over your head and leaving you topless with the exception of your bra.

"C'mon, get it all off for me," he directed you in regards to your bra. You reached your hands behind your back, attempting to undo the impossible clasp of the material. Minho offered to aid your struggle; his larger hands quickly replaced yours, and he was able to undo your bra in one swift motion. He instantaneously groaned at the sight of you, topless, and made specifically for him. He had imagined this scenario over the span of countless, lonely nights; his imagination had underestimated the mere sight of you because here you lay, even more perfect than he could have ever pictured.

"Can I touch you, baby?" he asked you, his words sounding desperate and sensual.

"Please do," you squeaked out, grabbing one of his hands and guiding them to your left breast. Minho took control from there, fondling the one breast as his mouth went to appease the other. The pleasure that erupted in your body was indescribable by words, only becoming conveyed by the loud moans that bounced off of the living room walls; every flick of Minho's tongue over your right nipple, every brush of his thumb over the left, and every sensation you felt on your chest made you rub your thighs together, begging for some sort of sweet relief. Minho picked up on your needy movements; therefore, he released your breasts from his suction and gently placed your hands on them instead.

"Keep playing with your tits for me," he instructed, "while I help you out down here, yeah?" You nodded desperately, feeling slightly embarassed from what he was asking you to do, but you obliged nevertheless, attempting to mirror his movements from before.

Minho, on the other hand, was slowly making his way down to your waistline, kissing every surface of your body he could while doing so. He made it to the band of your light grey sweatpants, and he hooked his thumb under the hem of both them and your underwear, managing to pull both articles down simultaneously and discarding them somewhere on the living room floor.

"Fuck," was all he could manage to spew out as he took you in. Your physical beauty, your scent, the slick already coating you, every aspect of your core was absolutely intriguing to him; it only made his ferality grow.

"I want to taste you," he confessed, not daring to make any movements upon you until he had your full consent. "Can I?"

"Please!" you nearly screamed, praying desparately for him to have his way with you. With your approval, Minho wasted no time in pleasing you. He started with slow kitty licks to your clitoris, eventually switching to alternations between licking and sucking on the sensitive bud, allowing his tongue to drag itself a bit lower down your folds each time. You let out an agonizing sigh of relief, which made its way past your lips in the form of a moan.

"Oh my God, Minho," you whimpered. "Just like that, please!" You continued to beg and plead and whimper and whine the whole way through Minho's work upon you.

"Fuck, y/n, you taste so good," he vibrated against your core, causing shock waves to coarse throughout your lower half. As your moans began to pick up in pace and pitch, as did Minho's movements in speed. He sucked, licked, and hummed against you at a moderate rhythm, giving rise to your back arching and your hips bucking. You felt a knot began to tighten in your stomach just as Minho pulled away, removing his cool, metal rings from his right hand. He tenderly took hold of your dominant hand and placed it where his mouth just was.

"I want you to play with your clit while I finger you," he told you bluntly, causing your cheeks to flush slightly. He took notice of your unease and so added on, "Can you do that for me?" as a way to both ask for your consent and make sure you were in a stable mindset to do so.

"Yes," you hoarsely stammered, "I can." To prove it, you leisurely began to rub your clit in small circles, moaning at the return of pleasureful contact. Minho smirked at your actions.

"Good girl," he praised as he slowly inserted his middle finger inside of you, pumping the singular digit slowly in and out of your vagina, curling it in order to brush against that sweet spot inside of you. Your maneuvers on yourself began to falter slightly as he inserted his ring finger as well, quickening his pace as he did so. You made an attempt to stifle your wanton, continuous moans; after all, you hated being too loud, always fearing someone would walk in and catch you in the act. Yet, Minho was not standing for this.

"No no," he stated while making eye contact with you, "let me hear you, baby. Be loud for me. Moan for me" Just like that, any hesitation within your body vanished, and you let every noise held within your vocal chords escape. Moans, groans, whimpers, whines, and everything in between filled the thin walls of your apartment.

"Attagirl." Minho took your noises as encouragement and began pumping his fingers in and out of you faster, still managing to curl them at the opportune moments. You began to rub your clit in tempo-esque sync with Minho's fingers, both motions feeling inhumanely swift at this point.

"Min, I'm getting c-close," you mumbled out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further and your brain only focusing on your release.

"Yeah, baby?" he cooed as his fingers rapidly brushed against your G-Spot. "Cum for me then, baby. I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?" He never broke eye contact with you as he asked this, not once.

"I, I can try," you replied, attempting to laugh the nervousness off, but it instead came out gargled.

"Hm, good girls do what they're told. You wanna be a good girl for me, right?" Minho inquired, moving his fingers back down to a moderate pace.

"Yes, yes, yes, I do!" you stumbled over your repetition. "'M your good girl." Minho chuckled at your adorable, mind-numb antics.

"Then cum all over for me," he repeated, working his fingers back up to the swift pace they had stalled from. "You can do it, I know you can, baby." The combined pleasure of Minho's fingers gracing your G-Spot and your fingers massaging your clit all became too overwhelming at once. You felt yourself coming undone, and as such, your hips began to stutter and your thighs began to shake as you came down from your high. Your hands flew to grasp at the slick leather of the couch as Minho's fingers helped you ride out your high.

"Good girl," Minho eulogized as he removed both digits from your entrance and inserted them into his mouth, licking them clean of your arousal. He climbed back over top of you and planted a kiss of adoration on your forehead.

"You did so well for me, pretty girl," he ran a hand through your hair as he smiled earnestly at you. Your brain was too numb to respond with verbage, so you instead sat up and kissed Minho with more passion than you previously had. "That's my girl," he mumbled against your lips. You mustered up enough strength to push Minho on his back, his hands instantly crawling up to squeeze the plush of your ass.

"Your turn," you tiredly stated, causing a chuckle to escape Lee Know's mouth. He encapsulated you in yet another kiss as your hands traveled down to his black, ripped jeans. You quickly found the zipper, unzipping his pants while simultaneously, yet unintentionally, palming his erection and eliciting a needy groan from him. With a bit of help from him, you shimmied his jeans and his boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free from its prior restraint. You took his shirt off of him just as fast, leaving both of you bare in front of one another.

"C'mere," he commanded, moving you forward on his lap to the point in which you were straddling him as he was sitting up. "Spread those legs for me." You shifted your position to where you were doing just that, giving him enough room to push up into you comfortably. "There you go," he praised before softly gripping your chin and pulling you into a brief yet fiery kiss.

"Look at me," Minho adjured you. "I don't want to miss a second of this pretty face." The compliment caused you to go red once more, making Minho in turn giggle. "Are you ready?" he asked before going forward.

"Yes, I have been, please, Min," you were not even sure what you were begging for, but Minho found it adorable nevertheless.

"Please what, baby?"

"Please fuck me."

Minho could not help but smirk at your bold comment as if to say, 'As you wish.' He adjusted his dick to align with your entrance and slowly but surely, inch by inch pushed himself inside of you. The stretch you felt from the endeavor was painful, yet delicious, and both you and Minho groaned from the feeling of one another's arousal. Minho was still for a minute, allowing for you to adjust to his length. Without warning, you began to slowly bounce on his length, taking Lee Know completely by surprise. Moans quickly refilled the apartment air, this time coming from both parties.

"Thereee you go," Minho groaned out as you continued your movements, his hands bracing themselves on your hips both to steady you and to keep himself in tact. "Move those hips for me baby."

A plethora of praises began to feel the air as you sped up your movements on Minho's cock, consisting of, 'That's it, baby,' 'Keep doing that,' and the ever so common, 'Yes, yes, yes!' along with multiple swears that adorned the vicinity. All reasonable judgment had left the area, with both you and Minho becoming concerned with each other's pleasure ass moans and movements began to become more frequent.

This statement only proved its factuality as Minho heard a buzzing sound coming from behind him. Your movements began to slow down as you heard it too; of course, it was your phone that was responsible. Minho grabbed your phone and scoffed, a sly, 'fuck,' falling from his lips as he read the caller ID.

"Look who it is again," he laughed sarcastically, showing you the phone screen as you continued your dulled thrusts. "And he's calling this time." Minho pondered for a moment before an idea came into his head. Amidst the noises of skin slapping, he asked you, "Should I answer it?" Your face instantly contorted into an expression of worry and anxiety.

"No, no, Min. D-don't answer it," you stammered out in a mix of breathlessness and fret.

"Are you sure? I think he's g-getting kind of worried," Minho retorted, the cockiness evident in his tone. Despite your wishes, he picked up the call.

"Hello?" Almost instantaneously, you clenched around Minho, both out of worry and exhileration. It was an anxiety-stricken situation, that was for certain; however, something about the confidence Minho exerted in that moment turned you on, so much so to the point where you accidentally let out a high pitched moan.

"Shh," Minho held a hand over your mouth, holding the phone away from you both. "You don't want him to hear you moaning like this, do you?" You shook your head no as Minho smirked and brought your phone back to his ear. "Sorry, what was that? Yeah, she's busy with me right now, but if you want me to leave a message for you, I can. You sure? Alright, no problem. Take care, man." Minho finally hung up the phone. "I think he got the message."

Although you could not hear the other end of the conversation, you were almost positive the guy could ear the lewd noises coming from your side of the receiver. It should have embarrassed you to no end, but it only made your eroticism grow. As such, you bounced harder and faster on Minho's cock, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure and release a string of swears.

"Fuck, baby. You were squeezing me so tightly while I was on the phone," he remarked about the gesture you had hoped he had not tooken notice of. "Were you that nervous or was it that," he stopped his interrogation to caputre you in yet again another passionate kiss, "you liked it? Hm?"

You could not bring yourself to answer him verbally, instead allowing moan upon moan to be uttered. Minho did not mind, however, instead allowing the both of you to become lost within your pleasure. With the pace you had set for the occasion, it was not long until you found yourself nearing a second orgasm, and from the way Minho's hips had began to stutter against your own and his whines becoming more high pitched, you figured it was the same case for him. He proved you correct moments later.

"Close, 'M close," he repeated several times over. "Keep going. Just like that for me, yeah?" His hands grasped your hips, aiding you in swiftening your movements on his cock, bouncing faster than you had ever been able to manage before. "Where baby? Where do you want me to cum?"

"Inside," you replied without hesitation. Your answer surprised Minho initially, but it quickly morphed into excitement. Minho felt his orgasm creeping up on him, so he buried his head into the crook of your neck, thrusting his hips into your own as he quickly tried to bring himself to release.

You, on the other hand, felt yourself already coming undone once more, and Minho's additional thrusts were the straws that broke the camel's back. You saw stars as your second orgasm hit, feeling more intense than the first by a longshot. The sight itself alone was enough to arouse Minho to completion, and he let himself go, realising thick white ropes of cum inside of you and groaning immensely while doing so.

As both of you came down from your respective highs, you laid your head on Minho's chest, your breathing heavy and your blood pumping. Minho held you close to him, not wanting to let you go in that moment.

"Damn," he finally broke the silence with a chuckle. He lifted your head up towards him, muttering a, 'c'mere' as he brought you in for a kiss, this one much less intense than the ones prior.

"You did so well, baby," he rubbed your arms as he spoke. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," was all you could mumble against him. You somehow felt weak yet on Cloud 9 at the same time. It was a weird feeling, but exhilerating none the less. You attempted to lift yourself off of Minho, but the boy's strong arms kept you held down.

"Let's just stay like this for a little while, yeah?" You nodded, bringing yourself to lie down on top of Minho. "Are you alright, Princess?"

"Mhm," you sleepily mumbled. "You?"

"Well, I didn't expect to be doing this tonight, but yes. I am great." Minho looked up at the sight of you: your hair stuck to your forehead once more, beads of sweat cascaded like waterfalls down your body, and you were ninety-nine percent sure your makeup was running. Yet, Minho thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he vocalized it.

"I look like the personified spawn of Satan right now, Minho." Minho could not help but burst into a fit of laughter at your words.

"You're always beautiful to me," he retorted. You smiled down at him, feeling yourself doze off in his arms, but not before he muttered one more thing:

"So, no more of him then, right?"

[senseandaccountability]

HR department romance plots

I just… beyond the surface level of enjoying a new game with new relationship dynamics to explore, I really can’t feel much about the DAV companions or their romances.

They all just seem so disconnected from the story, from Rook (who in turn is entirely disconnected from all kinds of feelings because Rook is just Employee Of the Year), from the world, from themselves. I feel like Cole here, looking at them and saying in my gentle, fleeting voice: even the dwarves don’t really remember dwarves. It really feels like the interpersonal relationships are written by the HR person who sits with you as union rep to tell you that you should use a positive language, that "we are all simply employees here, it doesn't matter what title you have", give a little pep talk about teamwork and how to get the job done. That's what we're here for. Everyone's equal. We all want the same thing here, your boss is your friend. Have you tried talking to this person, see their side of things, mmmm? It's just... yeah, they're cute, all of them. But why do they like each other? Why do they want to be with Rook? Who are they even in relation to the world of Thedas, what do they believe in, what have they overcome, what do they hate, what sort of prejudices do they carry around? I have no idea.

And since I’m also replaying DAI again, I wanted to compare these romances to my canon romances in DAI.  With Blackwall, you immediately get a sense of attraction and a sort of flirting on his part that suggests this is something he falls into quite easily - “you know a lot about girls” to quote Cole - BUT it’s also something he really, really thinks he shouldn’t be doing now. Why? He is tied to the Warden plot, if you bring him along you get a sense of a man hiding shit but you don’t really understand what, and he still comes to see you (flying/climbing up your balcony wall idk) because he can’t step away. You get to tell him he’s a good man even though you know shit about that at this point, like with Anders in DA2 you can give your PC over to this passion/love despite knowing that there’s something off, something potentially harmful or dangerous. There is conflict, there are things that jar, that can even make you uncomfortable. 

Blackwall as a character is open and compassionate. He approves of mercy, shows mercy, he isn't judgmental of others. In sharp and delicious contrast Blackwall’s crime is vile. He isn’t bound by any sort of oath, he can back down, there is no greater good whatsoever in his actions. It’s inexcusable. And yet. YET. You can CONTINUE THE ROMANCE. He killed a wagon full of kids, THEN RAN AWAY AND LET HIS MEN TAKE THE BLAME and hates himself so much that he tries to become someone else by erasing his previous self from the face of the earth. You can still kiss him and tell him you want him to live and redeem himself. It’s fucking incredible to think about this in the light of Veilguard actually. Your LI, the child murdering coward. 

With Iron Bull you have the doubts all spread out on the table. He’s a spy, how could you ever trust him? He also doesn’t respond to your flirting, why the hell not when you hear through ambient dialogue that he’s fucking half the chantry, isn’t he supposed to be a fuckboy? But he’s fun, he’s a mystery, he’s got fascinating banter with everyone, he’s brought his found family along, he’s a Qunari who at least somewhat believes in the Qun - he’s got AMAZING conversations with Solas that characterizes Bull as deeply intelligent (and Solas as much more caring than he’d let on) and knowledgeable about surprising things like architecture. Cole, as always, gives us more insight into Bull’s mind along the way and even before the offer to ride the Bull, the idea of him has been through some adjustments. You change his idea about a lot of things and in return, Bull challenges your idea of him, your idea of the Qun, your idea of the world and possibly, depending on how you react to his romance, your idea of intimate relationships. The game’s writing allowed me to imagine a rather frumpy circle mage in her mid 30s reluctantly forming a friendship with this strange fellow, only to find herself very much attracted to him, only to find herself being cared for in a way she would never have let anyone do before simply because Bull told her that was the only way he’d be with her. This is how we’ll do it, are you in? Your LI, the service top Qunari spy who is terrified he’ll run mad without his belief system to dictate his actions. 

And Solas. I mean mythical love stories culminating in mythical endings aside, what I really fell for in this relationship was the refreshing dynamic not of enemies to lovers but of two souls just sort of connecting instantly during strange events, taking a few hard looks at each other and going oh shit it’s you, you get me HOW is it possible you get me when nobody else does? There’s so much external drama surrounding them, which is why I personally LOVE and ADORE how calm their internal connection actually is. They know, so early in the game, that this is it. You’re my home, you understand the bones of me, you ask questions no one else thinks of asking, you care about the world in a way I haven’t seen anyone else do. He is LITERALLY the only one who understands your Lavellan when they make her the herald, when she protests and they keep pushing and pulling and sing their song after Haven, and Solas is there to be sarcastic about it. If nothing else, I'd fall in love with that. And there’s this sense of impossibility from the very beginning, a sense of it being almost unreal because the first kiss is in the Fade, the second is in a frenzy where Solas goes from 0 to I LOVE YOU, MY HEART and then leaves and you know, you know how this is coded and YET - he seemed so wise and kind and sad, it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth. And even with this connection of souls, things chafe - he’s an absolute bastard about certain things, he mocks your heritage and you don’t know yet that it’s because a huge guilt blanket rests on top of him since thousands of years back, you can just argue back and receive his disapproval. He says it’s selfish of him to start anything with you yet he does - WHY DO YOU DO THAT, SAD EGG? Your LI, the ancient god of rebellion, treachery and lies, depending on the story. 

Even beyond my favourites, there are conflicts. Sera is A LOT (affectionate) if you're an elf, with Cullen you get a substance abuse story-line tied to his general dismay about his past as a really fucked up templar, Dorian has personal trauma and cultural prejudice he struggles with for the entire game, Vivienne is so complex half the fandom hates her and has very awkward and uncomfortable banters with almost everyone (save for Bull because he treats her like he would a tamassran), Cassandra is constantly challenged in her personal beliefs, very clearly reflected in her conversations with Solas and Cole has a whole personal plotline about deeply existentialist matters. What does it mean to be alive? Who is a person and who gets to decide that? He could have been a person, Varric says. Isn't he already? Does this unit have a soul? Not to mention that Cole functions chiefly as a speaker of truths, bringing a lot of complexity to the others. 

DAI is not perfect by any means but I feel like I know these bastards. I feel like my PC or even I could actively dislike some of them, because they are written to create dynamic conflicts inside and outside of their own arcs. I can write fic about them, I can imagine what they're doing during the events of DAV because I know them.

Because they are written like actual people in a world where some people have power over others and some people have been raised with a certain belief system and some people just have shitty takes on society, may they learn. 

[squarestarheart]

It's that time of year again: the mythical "Terra Cotta heater" has come back onto my socials.

I'm sure other people have talked about the fire safety piece of trying to heat your home with a makeshift (i.e. it's not great! Don't do it! This is a burn hazard and a fire hazard!) but let's do some math on exactly how much heat this thing is putting out.

First off, combusting anything in your house is going to give off heat. That heat is going to warm up the air. In fact, this heater is going to put off exactly as much heat as burning the same candle without the terracotta pot on top. This is just thermodynamics: there's nothing special about terracotta that generates more heat than is input into it.

So how much heat does burning a candle produce?

I looked to candle manufacturers to determine burn rate for candles. Estimates vary a bit, but it seems that about somewhere around 5-7 hours per ounce is the typical burn rate. Let's assume 5 hours per ounce, which is on the high end of this rate (combustion rate of 0.2 ounces per hour).

How about the energy content? Different waxes give off slightly different amounts of heat per kg when combusted, but paraffin wax has an energy content of about 42 MJ/kg. Doing some conversion math that's about 18,000 Btu/lb, or about 1,130 Btu per ounce.

Since we're burning our candle at a rate of 0.2 ounces per hour, that works out to about 226 Btu/hour of heat output for our candle heater, or about 66 Watts.

Let's compare this energy output to a few other things. I'm giving these in Btu/hr, Watts, and candle heater units (CHU; 1 CHU = 226 Btu/hr)

• A 4kg cat at rest puts out about 38 Btu/hr (11 W, ⅙ CHU)

• An adult human being at rest puts out about 341 Btu/hr (100W, 1.5 CHU)

• An adult human doing "moderate dancing" puts out 853 Btu/hr (250W, 3.77 CHU)

• A standard electric oil-filled space heater puts out about 5,120 Btu/hr (1,500W, 22.7 CHU)

• A kerosene emergency heater puts out about 20,000 Btu/hr (5,860W, 88.5 CHU)

• A smallish wood stove puts out about 25,000 Btu/hr (7,300W, 110 CHU) [note: the actual heat output from a wood stove into your house is a bit less because you're pulling combustion air from your house and exhausting it out the chimney]

• A typical gas furnace for a medium residential home has a capacity of about 100,000 Btu/hr (29,000W, 442 CHU)

• A raging house fire, which is what you might end up with if you try to heat your house with terracotta candle heaters, has a heat output rate of about 17,000,000 Btu/hr (5,000,000W, 22,000 CHU)

In other words, if you want to keep your house warm, invite over six cats or one human friend. Even if you just sit around, they're going to bring you more warmth (literally and figuratively!) than a candle heater. Or just have a dance party.

(Or, y'know, if you live in a place where the power goes out in the winter, maybe consider getting an emergency kerosene heater?)

I dont really like making rebloggable posts but I haven’t seen anyone mention them yet: terracotta heaters are really easy and effective DYI heaters for cold emergencies and I think it might be helpful considering, you know

TDLR, place a candle of any size down, and put a terracotta pot (as large as possible preferably) over it, with something non-flammable and balanced to keep the bottom an inch or two off the ground, like bricks. 

The candle will heat the terracotta, which will put off heat, while the space underneath lets smoke out and oxygen in. I’ve used these all 3 times we had outages here in Maine during blizzards to keep my aquariums warm, the weather outside had been easily -20 F with high winds, and not only was I cozy, that shit kept the water 10 degrees above room temperature. If it can heat the aquariums, it’ll heat a small room.

They work so much better than you’d think, the heat they put off is insane. Obviously be careful because smoke and open flame, but they’re very easy to make and just need an eye kept on them on all times.

 Don’t touch the heated pot bare-handed, it’ll burn like a motherfucker, they get VERY hot. Use thick oven mitts or layered rags to remove pot, put the candle out first if you can manage. Don’t do more than one or two in a non-ventilated or closed room, it’s still making smoke and that can make it harder to breathe.

[ID: Two bricks are laid flat, two bricks are stacked on top on their sides. A candle is in a jar inbetween and is lit. A large terracotta pot is balanced on the second, higher set of bricks so it is above the candle and off the ground. End Id]

[screamlet]

wip wednesday (bucktommy fix-it edition)

a longer eddie+tommy excerpt from this wip that's getting out of control. some context: tommy has shaved off his hair in the gay heartbreak tradition of our people.

---

Tommy knows he's a creature of habit, but it's still disquieting to discover that sometimes people learn his habits. For example: Tommy regularly likes to hit up one specific cozy restaurant on his free nights and have dinner at the bar, him and a book. Sometimes he'd strike up a conversation with someone at the bar but, most of the time, he had his quiet, familiar corner at the bar with a drink or two, his dinner, and whatever he was reading that week.

Tonight, someone buys him his beer and that someone is Eddie, who's sitting across the bar from him when he arrives. He toasts to Tommy, then gets out of his seat and comes around to sit with him.

"Thanks for the beer," Tommy replies. "So what's going on?"

"Just checking in. You've been quiet."

Tommy raises his eyebrows at him. "Huh. Have I? I wonder."

For a second, Eddie's look is scathing, and then sympathetic, genuine. "How are you doing?"

He imagined the briefest cartoonish image where he tips his head back and chugs the entire beer in one go, but it takes so long that Eddie sighs and leaves. He thinks about doing something that dumb for longer than he should before he does the adult thing and shrugs a shoulder at him. "Just fine, how about you?"

Eddie tilts his head 90 degrees, like he's had his neck snapped. "Just fine? You break up with your boyfriend of six months and—hey, Tommy? Should I mention the hair? Or the lack of it?"

Tommy smiles broadly; his face aches to be this fake, but he used to be a pro at it. "I thought I'd try something new." He takes another sip. "Thanks for the beer. Does Buck know you're here? Crossing enemy lines?"

"Wow, he said you called him Buck and I didn't believe him, but you really did that." Eddie shudders. "Stop doing that. And what enemy lines? We're friends, idiot."

Tommy gives him a playful look. "Come on. No we're not. You're his best friend. You don't need to pretend. I get it."

Eddie clears his throat. "You know Buck can have more than one friend at the same time?"

"And he does," Tommy assures him. "He's got you and the whole 118, his sister, everyone who's connected with you guys. He's good. I'm good. We're good."

"Tommy, listen." Eddie shifts in his seat and leans in closer. "Show me a real emotion in the next 10 seconds or I'll punch your cheekbones into your skull for leading on my best friend for six months. He cares about you, Tommy. Do you have any idea how much? I thought you did. He took it seriously—did you?"

He considers Eddie carefully and then looks away. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm doing okay. I cared about him a lot, too, and now we've broken up. It happens. Thanks for checking on me. You don't have to do that anymore."

It's quiet between them for a minute, then another. Tommy puts in his dinner order and motions to Eddie, who shakes his head and says he doesn't want anything. Tommy leans back in his seat and that's when he starts to sweat. If Eddie's just going to sit there and watch him, wait him out, then Eddie's going to win. Tommy's good at this, great at faking it until he makes it, but it's—it's hard to sit under the microscope for this long, especially when Eddie seems to have nothing but time on his hands and nothing to do but wait for Tommy to crack.

"I'm not here to get you guys back together," Eddie finally says. "I really am here to see how you're doing. I see Buck at work; I don't see you, but I want to keep seeing you. I want us to be friends, no matter what happens between the two of you."

Tommy laughs. "God, and why would you want that? You've got better things to do with your time. Seriously, go call your kid or something."

"His name is Christopher, Tommy, and get his name out of your mouth if that's how you feel about him, about me and him."

Tommy nods, apologetic. "Sorry. But I do mean it: I free you of your obligation."

Eddie's quiet again and says, with even more disbelief, "You don't want to be my friend anymore? And don't call me a child, Tommy, I'm serious. You know adults have friends, too, right? And sometimes people break up and the world keeps turning and we can still be friends, you and me. You and Chim, you and Hen, even Bobby will come around because he likes you. You're still Tommy."

"I don't think that's how you guys work," Tommy says. "I don't think anyone stays in your circle without Buck tying them there. Maybe you and I can meet up for basketball, spar at the gym, hang out at my place, but I'm telling you that's a lot of work and you don't have to do it."

"I never had to do it, Tommy," Eddie replies. "I wanted to because I wanted to be your friend. You are my friend, and Buck isn't gonna change that."

Tommy laughs dryly and looks away. "He changes everything, Eddie."

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part twenty-one preview

The last bed you laid in smelled like lemon mint detergent. It was the full bed in your sister's guest room. Everything was crisp and white. They rarely had guests besides you. Some of your clothes stayed in that closet, one of your toothbrushes stayed in the connected bathroom, waiting for your visits. You'd awaken that last morning not thinking you'd never sleep in bed for another five years. You left it unmade.

This bed smells like pine and warmth.

Ghost's room is small and dimly lit. The ceiling slants so that one end is not tall enough for him to fully stand. There's a dresser and a nightstand, leaving only a sliver of floorspace.

After the metal latch on the door clicks shut, Ghost lays the blanket down and grabs a pillow for himself. That leaves the bed to you. Springs creak beneath your weight as you silently slip under a heavy, rustic quilt. The years-embedded scent of him wraps around you like a drug-induced fog. For some reason, you hesitate to move, lying frozen as he flicks off the light. You wonder if he always locks the door, or if he did it for you. So you feel more certain they won't try anything.

Only after you hear his shuffling around as he lays down do you allow yourself to get comfortable. You cocoon your body under the quilt and turn to your side, closing your eyes.

A thought reopens them minutes later. You roll onto your back and speak into the swollen darkness. "Have you known about this Switzerland place?"

For a moment, you think he's already asleep. Then, from below the bed by your feet, he says, "Heard of it."

"That is what you guys talked about, isn't it?" you ask absentmindedly.

"Among other things."

You sit up so you can see him, but all that you can make out is a dark shadow. "Care to share?"

"Some things are on a need-to-know basis," is all he gives.

"And I don't need to know?"

"Precisely."

It stings; you don't know why. A hand sweeps through your hair as you audibly exhale. "Some team we make, huh? Or I guess we're only a team when you need me to do something for you."

You quickly realize how petulant you must sound. A grumbled swear, then more shuffling. The shadow sits upright. "They asked me to go with them. I said no. Too far. Too many variables that are hard to predict, and she's not ready for them. Happy?"

You bite your lip. Relief sits in place of the slight uncertainty since your conversation with Nereida. Joining them was shut down. You wouldn't tell her, but it sounds asinine, whether or not that commune exists. Risky at best, fatal at worst. You're tempted to ask him how many days he thinks they'll recoup here before continuing their journey, but opt for sleep instead. He seems done with the conversation, too, lying back down. Then, you have the best sleep you've had in years in his bed.

When the sun turns pink, you awaken to a room void of Ghost. He's gone. It should be expected, but you'd thought he might wake you up to train like normal. Though, the past twenty-four hours haven't been normal. You look around, the details of his room more visible now in the morning. On the nightstand beside you, there is a stack of books and you scan the titled spines. Mostly classics. One Hemingway. All tattered and read frequently. Beside them lays a silver chain attached to a dog tag. You gently finger the engraved metal so as not to move it out of place: Simon Riley. 

Snooping through his things is more tempting than you're willing to admit. You slip out of bed, socked feet silently padding over to the dresser. There are mostly papers. His map, a notepad with scribbled half-cursive on it, and then a faded photo beneath it. You freeze, breath hitching, as if you've done something dangerous just by stumbling upon it. Curiosity is thick in your chest, difficult to ignore. Gentle fingers reach to shift it out, revealing a picture that you know right away is of Blue and her mom. Blue is a baby. Maybe one year old. A woman with light brown hair holds her up, sitting on a bench in front of a playground. She's pretty and young. There is a sadness when you wonder if this is the only picture he has of them-before her death. Then, there is another feeling. You swallow it. 

You quickly slip the photo back just the way you found it and leave the room. 

[epickiya722]

Folks, you're not going to like what I have to say. I just know it and I'm warning you of that. I said it once before, but leaks really do make some folks act out in ways that I can't understand. We ain't even got a full translation and already people are saying this ship is canon and that ship is canon... and whatever else. Jumping to conclusions when you don't even have all the facts.

Look, I'm not saying Hori is the best writer. I'm not saying Izuku and Ochako is a bad ship (it's not, there's worse... a lot worse).

But I do think some people are jumping ten steps ahead and I doubt that they are canon romantically. This isn't me being in denial because I could care less about the ship. It's not a ship that makes me sit up at night and cry and want to punch a wall and harass people. No ship for me does.

So far, from what I can gather from the very little information Izuku wants to see Ochako more because... THEY LITERALLY HAVEN'T SEEN EACH OTHER A LOT. In the last chapter, Izuku states that the class haven't been able to catch up and whatnot because over the years they got busy with their careers. The last time they probably had a proper conversation was in high school.

Izuku and Ochako wanting to meet up more doesn't automatically mean they're going to date. Let's not forget, Ochako is one of the first people to become a close friend of Izuku's in their first year. They clicked because they were so similar. They mirror each other even!

They're best friends if anything and wouldn't you want to see your best friend after not seeing them for a long time?

So far, it just feels that this epilogue is them accepting their own feelings about everything that has happened, like a self-reflection and self-acceptance type of deal.

Sometimes, you realize something about yourself when encountering someone who is like you. That's how Izuku and Ochako are to me.

It takes them identifying with the other to come to terms about themselves.

"But the blushing! The handholding!"

So blushing automatically means "I have romantic feelings for you", is what some of you are saying?

Just gonna forget all the times they and others have blushed out of embarrassment or happiness? That even some characters have the blush stickers to show their sweet innocent nature, like Ochako for most of the story?

Izuku blushed at Katsuki in the final chapter out of happiness, so it can't apply here, too? Why does blushing got to only be used in a romantic sense?

Seeing Izuku blushing looking at Ochako is funny when considering he's holding an (possibly) alcoholic beverage in that same shot. My guy is probably drunk. 😆 Jokes aside, jokes aside.

This is Ochako and Izuku, we're talking about here. They're the Queen and King of MHA characters who blush a lot, no matter what is going on.

And the handholding? In MHA? It happens a lot between characters! It's not like anything new or Izuku and Ochako are going to get cooties.

Look, I might make some people laugh or hate me for this one but when I saw this... I was reminded of this.

For those that don't know, that is from the Predator (1987). Yes, that Predator.

Two characters that have been friends for a long time and just happy to see each other.

We seen this kind of handshake like this before between characters of different and same genders. Either as a greet or as an agreement.

Izuku and Ochako are just agreeing to see each other more and that they should allow themselves to live happy lives. That doesn't mean they're going to start dating and having babies the following week.

"Bakugou is being treated like his wingman!"

Ah, stop right there. Katsuki encouraging Izuku to talk to Ochako isn't like that strange because between Izuku and Katsuki, Katsuki is the one to most likely reveal his emotions. He is more in touch with his emotions than Izuku who while emotional tends to keep everything in.

Katsuki isn't playing wingman. He's playing advisor and someone who has experience with emotions.

Seeing Izuku stumbling over his words and being all nervous trying to talk to Ochako is so in character for him. He has never been too good expressing his emotions.

I doubt Katsuki would be like "go tell her you want to marry her". He is more like "go talk to her, you're friends, remember? Been forever since you had a proper conversation."

It's the same case with Himiko pushing Ochako towards Izuku. She is encouraging her to be happy and not be stuck in the past. Not "go get married".

Happiness doesn't mean you must be in a romance.

Just me, again, but I feel like some people are really just jumping the gun here. If you really are thinking Izuku and Ochako being canon is bad for your ship, that's... I'm sorry, this will be mean of me to say, but that's ridiculous.

A ship being canon shouldn't stop you from enjoying the ships you do like. What ever happen to "ignore canon"? Oh, I guess that becomes irrelevant when you want to cause panic and bash and panic and bash and panic and bash.

Like a handhold like that shouldn't make you feel threatened by that ship.

Just continue shipping your ships! Take it from someone whose favorite ship is of two characters who haven't been seen interacting before.

Even still, with just leaks alone, it doesn't mean they are canon. I have my ships and there's moments in whatever the story makes me ship them but I also don't think every little behavior is meant to be romantic.

The thing I know I'm going to hate about this epilogue isn't even the chapter itself. It's the reactions.

I know some people are going to say this chapter is queerbait and use to it to even go as far as to bash Ochako given she is the woman and it's routine to hate on the woman. It ain't queerbait if Katsuki and Izuku wasn't going to be explicitly a couple themselves. Let's not forget it's Shonen Jump and even though the queer coding can be there, we can't have everything.

Also, I also know that some fans of IzuOcha are going to use this chapter to justify their "authority" of "best ships" and harass people like "my ship is better than yours" and be only concerned about Ochako being a housewife.

I don't think Horikoshi is the greatest human and MHA is a flawless story but some of you are no better to these characters and the story.

[wereskull]

(^prev) Oh yea for sure we're definitely on the same page then if I'm understanding you correctly🌟

To reiterate what you clarified and expand + just ramble and hold a small conversation with you because I'm having fun now-

The whole like, usually satire is a thing that exists or there's a particular like. Tone or feeling that is wanting to be shared or considered which can often be so much more fun and complex if characters are allowed to be wrong or bad without immediate giant signs pointing you to how you should feel about them doing that.

Which is, of course, a different story than when someone is trying to teach the audience something but it's heavily implied that the author's morals are questionable but that goes without saying I feel (nodding)

"For mature audiences" not as in "legally allowed to see a boob" but "can see a fictional character do a bad thing and not immediately go on a crusade against the author"

[wuaxoi]

ꪆ୧ ( cherry flavored lipstick ) ft. 선우

𝒮ynopsis — sunoo never liked spin the bottle game, especially when everyone who played were drunk. but now, he had to change his mind after tasting your cherry lipstick.

𝒞lassmate! sunoo x 𝒞rush! reader ౨౿ uni au

fluff , idiots in love ⟡ ⌢ . kisses , they both tipsy lol

𝒩ow is playing! . . . just friends ( sunny )

the music was so loud it almost cause sunoo a headache and he was so close to just leave this stupid freshman party, but then he saw you. looking beautiful as always, you entered the crowded room smiling and waving to your friends. sunoo could've sworn you were glowing and if it was his another classmate he would never noticed them in that dark room full of drunk students.

if we're being completely honest, sunoo's crush on you started when he saw you in the coffee shop on campus. your pouty face looked just too adorable while you were thinking of what to do with your homework, so the only thing he could do is approach you to offer his help. he saw you at class a few times before that, so he was sure about the fact that you were smart and always nice to everyone. he also knew the professor wasn't one of the best and the class you shared together was the hardest one so far, so he felt guilty and wanted to help. but wanting to help a pretty girl is not a wrong thing to do, right?

it's been a few months since that day, you two were getting along well, sharing same interests and opinions, so you became friends pretty quickly. in your opinion, sunoo was super cute and funny, he would always offer his help or pay for you even though you told him that there's no need in that like hundred times. he was a good friend, supportive and kind, it was great having him around and you loved being friends with him.

the thing is, sunoo wasn't enjoying it. yeah, obviously you were a perfect friend, but it was that he liked you. not in a friendly way. and he hated the fact that you only see him as a friend. although he didn't do anything about it either.

"hello, earth to sunoo!" sunghoon waved his hand infront of his friend's face. sunoo blinked a few times, refocusing his gaze and attention on his friend. "too stunned?"

"what are you talking about?" sunoo rolled his eyes. sunghoon was his best friend, obviously he knew about that crush his friend had. sunoo didn't even need to tell him, he figured it out himself, not that it was hard.

"oh come on! as soon as y/n came inside the house you went silent and your jaw almost dropped to the floor," it was sunghoon's turn to roll his eyes as he crossed his hands on his chest, pointing at you. "go talk to her."

"what? no!"

"what's wrong with that? you're friends, right?"

"the talk you want me to have with her is not exactly friendship related.." sunoo took a sip from his cup. he wasn't sure what he was drinking, but it was tasty and has an alcohol in it, so it didn't matter. "Im not gonna confess at some stupid party!"

"you're an idiot."

he should've say no to that stupid idea, to sunghoon and his "ways to get a girl" thing, but when he heard you wanted to play… oh boy, he did change his mind so quickly, totally whipped.

"everybody knows how to play spin the bottle, right?" the guy with thick australian accent asked. sunoo wasn't sure, but this guy threw the whole party… was his name jake? whatever.

"hey sunoo, wanna sit with me?" you asked looking up from your phone. sunoo's eyes widened in surprise like you two weren't friends at all and why would you even talk to him? why was he acting like a loser? that was just too stupid, he was standing there, trying not to move like if he'd do something that'll make you change your mind.

"oh, um.. yeah!" sunoo nodded, sitting down on the floor with you. your shoulder touching his arm, the contact sending shivers through his whole body and he tried his best to not look at you every few seconds. clearing his throat, he decided to make a conversation with you to feel less nervous. "don't you think it's stupid though?"

"what?" you looked up, turning your phone off and placing it infront of you on the floor. your gaze turned to sunoo, searching his face, noticing his rosy cheeks and awkward smile. he looked cute as always, but something about him now, under that soft lightning, with pretty color of blush covering his face just did something to you. "no, I think it'll be fun… to be honest, I won't play that game sober, but this party is getting boring anyway."

"oh! you're right.." sunoo agreed, looking away from your intense gaze. he wasn't expecting you to stare at him so shamelessly, but he didn't mind. it probably didn't mean anything, right? you were a bit tipsy, so it's understandable that you acted a bit differently.

"y/n, it's your turn to spin!" you heard jake saying. you reached out to grab the bottle, looking around the room to pick yourself a partner to kiss, to hope that the bottle would stop pointing at them. sunghoon weren't that bad, he was attractive and… oh ningning! she was a great choice, you'd kiss her. and sunoo. you stopped at him. well, sunoo was your friend and it'll be nice to kiss a friend, not a stranger, you thought.

as you shook your head to get rid those thoughts on your mind, you placed the bottle on the floor, spinning it and waiting for it to stop. it was so quick you couldn't even get a chance to understand what just happened and when that bottle stopped and pointed at sunoo.

you turned your head almost immediately to look at his reaction and got to hold back a chuckle when you saw his face. all red like tomato, mouth opening and closing, but he can't speak, just like a fish without water. you knew sunoo would never act like that if he was completely sober, he'd be embarrassed because of that for the rest of his life, but he looked so adorable and funny at the same time. you smiled at him when he slowly turned his head, his gaze dropping to your lips.

tapping at your thigh, you felt impatient. the heat inside your body grew with intense quickness, you could feel it in your throat. you could feel your cheeks heating up so much almost like you've had a fever. "just kiss me, sunoo.. it's alright." you told him, reaching out to hold his hand gently, stroking it with your thumb to make him less nervous, to make him feel a bit more comfortable.

"o-okay.." sunoo swallowed hard, leaning closer to you. it was like in a slow motion… or he was just doing it so damn slow, you didn't know. you didn't care. all due nervousness, sunoo felt incredibly lucky at that moment. what a chance for him to get to kiss you because he decided to play spin the bottle? you of all people. he couldn't help but smile brightly right before his lips covered yours in a soft kiss, tasting your cherry lipstick. oh he was addicted to that taste from now on, your own unique flavor mixing with that sweet cherry one made his head spin, he almost felt dizzy.

as soon as sunoo's lips touched yours, your eyes closed, hand squeezed his a bit tighter. it was just a simple kiss, but somehow you felt so… cherished? treasured just by the way he kissed you, you could almost feel all emotions he was hiding inside through that kiss. you also felt him smiling.

it'll be nice to continue kissing him, but you had to let go. as you opened your eyes, you looked at sunoo, making an eye contact and smiling shyly at him. you never felt shy around him before, but now, after that kiss, you did. you chuckled, looking around the room. "heeseung, I think you're next to spin, yeah?"

the game continued after your words, everyone was still drinking, laughing and talking, but you and sunoo both felt different. the unspoken tension between you two was clear for every single person in the room except you. because you didn't want to ruin the friendship and sunoo didn't want to confess at some stupid party. and he wished he could taste that cherry lipstick again. and again and again until his lips are swollen and puffy and tastes the same as yours.

author note: this is super short and non proofread i jst wanted to post something about sunoo bc yk he's a cutie i love him <3 anyway hopefully yall enjoy, this is not cringe or whatever and also!! new theme for my works, what do we thinkkk

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hi I really love your writing! Not sure if you are taking any prompts, no worries if not!

I was wondering if you could something with Melissa x reader similar to Janine and Gregory where they both work at the school and maybe the reader is dating someone but they have a moment like the club scene or PECSA weekend.

Hope you're having a good day lovely human!

Not dead! Nor have I given up on writing or filling the prompts I still have to fill! But a weird thing did happen - I went to a hypnotist show with friends thinking I wouldn't be affected... Long story short, I remember the first fifteen minutes of the show. Apparently, I was in the show for the rest of it. So that was a thing. But that's not the weird thing. The hypnotist said that a side effect of his hypnosis is often a better ability to focus, a quieter mind and less anxious thoughts. I have to hand it to the man, his words seem to be true. An unexpected side effect of this for me though is that it turns out the noise and chatter in my mind actually helps me write my fics. Now it's all a bit quiet in there and it's been hard to get the words out. But, that doesn't mean I don't still love writing - so we're pushing through.

I do have a confession though - this story has two prompts noted at the top of it in my drafts and although I can't find any evidence that I've posted it under either prompt, if I have already posted this and somehow have missed it, please let me know and I shall take the duplicate down.

Anyway, enough about me. Enough rambling. I hope you enjoy!

*~*

It would be easier if she wasn’t nice to you. 

If she wasn’t nice to you, she could just be the untouchable, hot as hell, fiery goddess you admired from afar. 

But no.  She let you sit with her and Barb at lunch.  She even brought you lunch after a few conversations had strayed into discussing cooking and favourite recipes during said lunch breaks.

How were you meant to get over your ridiculous crush when she actually gave you the time of day?  When she smiled like that?  When her whole face lit up and she gestured so animatedly when she got caught up talking about something?

And as if that wasn’t enough, how were you ever meant to recover after seeing her so soft with her students?  Going out of her way to open up to them and help them. 

It was ridiculous, though.  You knew that.  What good was ever going to come of it? 

Kid.  That’s what she calls you.  It’s a constant reminder of the age gap between you.  Of the chasm that you feel you can’t even begin to cross when she sees you as some eager little kid.

You’ve always had a thing for older women.  From those early, confused days of watching your on-screen idols, to realising you didn’t want to be them.  You didn’t want to be friends with them.  You just wanted them. 

You want one in particular, but as you look across at her, her red hair ablaze in the sunshine, you force those feelings down once more.  If friendship is what she’s offering you’re not about to beat her with that olive branch.  You’ll deem yourself lucky and move on.

Even if she has ruined you for anyone else. 

*~*

“You know,” drawled Barbara.  “It’s beginning to become a habit.”

“What is?” asked Melissa, turning to face her friend with a frown. 

“Staring at her,” said the older woman, eyebrow raised. 

The red head scoffs.  “As if.  I don’t know what you think you’re seeing but that ain’t it.”

*

It was all said in jest to begin with.  Gentle teasing about a few wayward glances.  That was until Barb started to see her best friend be genuinely nice to you. 

To begin with, she tolerated you.  You weren’t one of the eager little puppies she so often saw when it came to younger new hires.  That much was evident from the start.  You were an old soul.  You carried a different energy. 

One that Melissa apparently appreciated just as much as the view.  Barb stood beside her the red head as they watched over the kids leaving school, keeping an eye on the them as they left for the day, making their way to busses, rides or parents.  Or rather, Barb was keeping watch over the children.  A quick glance at Melissa confirmed that her attention was directed at you where you stood a little way off, chatting happily with a young girl about the book she was waving at you as she waited for her mother to collect her. 

“Girl…”

“Don’t,” sighed Melissa, crossing her arms across her chest. 

That took Barb by surprise.  She had expected the red head to deny it.  “You mean?”

“It’s stupid.  She’s some pretty young thing and I’m…older than I care to admit.”

Turning to look at her friend, her expression sad, the older woman reached out and placed a comforting hand on the other woman’s arm.  “And?  What’s it called?  A Spring, Winter romance?”

“May, December,” corrected Melissa automatically.  “But same thing.”

“Exactly” said Barb.  “There’s a name for it and everything.  It’s a thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” huffed the red head, turning on her heel and heading back into the building.  “It’s stupid and I’ll get over it, just like I do everything else in my life.”

*~*

You’re not sure you’re entirely on board for PECSA. 

Out of school, things are different.  Lines are blurred and you’re seeing a whole different side to your colleagues.  You’re not sure if it’s liberating or terrifying.  And that’s before you add in the factor of the other teachers who have also been set free from the constraints of the classroom and are now loose in the wild.

You’re sure your confusion must show on your face, particularly when at the end of one of the breakout sessions you find yourself caught up in conversation with a striking older woman who teaches at another school across town.

You don’t see Melissa at first, who watches the interaction with interest.  She’s not used to seeing you outside of school, and it takes her back to realise that the woman is flirting with you.  Openly and blatantly flirting with you.  She’s touching your arm, leaning into you.  Smiling and laughing. 

In return, you know you’re blushing something terrible, especially when the woman hands you a page from her notebook with her number scrawled across it.  Watching the woman walk away, throwing you a smile over her shoulder to you, you finally see the red head standing in the doorway where she said she’d meet you so you could head for lunch together.

“She not a bit old for you?” she asks as you approach, your blush still heating your cheeks.

You frown.  “If she looks like that and thinks I’m hot enough to give me her number, they’re the numbers I’m interested in,” you reply, heading in the direction of the lunch buffet. 

Barb overhears the comment, unable not to smirk at your flash of sass.  “Jealous?” she asks, leaning into the red head’s space. 

“Of what?” barks Melissa, crossing her arms across her chest as she watches you go.  “Oh leave off!” she snarks at the older woman’s raised eyebrow.

*

How the day has gone from serious talks and breakout sessions to cocktails by the pool you’re still trying to wrap your head around.  Adjusting your cover up, you head around the side of the pool, heading for the bar.  You hope the day starts to feel a little bit more normal with a drink in your hand. 

Gazing out over the water, you catch sight of Melissa.  Or rather, you catch sight of a lot more of Melissa than you’ve ever had the privilege of seeing before.  Not looking where you’re walking as your eyes drink in the magnificent view there’s no saving yourself as you step forward and your foot finds water instead of concrete.

“Is that?” Melissa asks incredulously at the dramatic splash that comes from the other side of the pool.  She’s up out of her lounger before Barb can comment and the older teacher can only watch on in amusement as the red head storms off in your direction. 

You pull yourself out of the pool, allowing yourself to perch on the edge as you try your best to ignore the chuckles of those around you who have noticed your mishap. 

“What the fuck happened?”

You look up and of course Melissa is there.  Right there, lit up in the sun like an angel, red hair haloed around her head.  It takes a moment to realise that her eyes are roving over you, and not just your face.  You glance down where your cover up now clings to your skin, almost see through. 

Looking up you see Melissa blink rapidly a few times before offering you a hand.  You reach for her, smiling as she helps pull you to your feet.  “Thanks,” you smile sheepishly.  “I guess I should go change.”

“It’s a pool, you’re allowed to be a little wet,” the red head smirks back at you.  “Besides, we’re this close to the bar now, be rude not to take advantage.”

*

Melissa appears at the bar next to you with a huff, grumbling under her breath.  Her attention is focused on trying to get the attention of the barman.  Mumbling though she is, she’s speaking just loud enough for you to make out what she was saying. 

“He was an ass,” you tell her, watching as her head whipped around, finally realising you were there. 

“What?” she asks with a frown, already tipsy. 

“Your ex,” you enlighten her.  You may not have heard the comment that led to her current dip in mood, or ever have met the man, but you know enough.

Her frown only deepens.  “You don’t know a thing about him.”

“I know he didn’t appreciate what he had and left you,” you offer, ordering a drink when the barman appears in front of you, before turning back to Melissa to ask what she wants.  You find her looking at you oddly, her expression unreadable.  She quickly snaps out of it and barks and order at the bartender.

*

Barb has had more than a few drinks, it would appear as she flags you down to sit with her as you pass her table. 

“Sit, sit,” she smiles, trying to reach for your arm and push the chair out next to her at the same time in an uncoordinated matter. 

Catching her hands, you still her as you slide into the seat beside her to placate her.  Her gaze is a little unfocused, her words edging towards slurred.  You hadn’t quite realised how drunk she was, but then again, looking around the room, it would have been more of a surprise for her to be sober. 

“Don’t call that woman,” she tells you, leaning into your space.

“What woman?” you frown.

“That woman who gave you her number,” says Barbara like it’s obvious. 

You try not to think about the fact that for Barb to know, Melissa must have mentioned it.  That it’s been on her mind enough to mention it to the older woman.  “Why not?”

“She wouldn’t like it.”

“She gave me her number,” you point out.  “I don’t think she would mind.”

Barb shakes her head.  “Not her.  Her,” she says, nodding across the room to where Melissa is standing. 

You cross your arms across your chest.  “What has Melissa got to do with anything?”

Barb raises a single eyebrow, the action still smooth and effective despite her drunkenness and it makes you blush. 

Averting your gaze, you shake your head.  “It doesn’t matter what I feel,” you sigh.  “She’s not…She thinks I’m some stupid kid.”

What you don’t see, is Melissa standing close enough behind your chair to catch your words.

*

Somewhere after speaking to Barb you decide that trying to be the sober parent of your little Abbott family just isn’t working.  You’ve lost track of most of them, and honestly, you’ve given up trying to find them.  They’re all adults and can fend for themselves.

You still have eyes on Barb and Melissa though, the former dancing up a storm and the latter apparently winning an ill-advised drinking competition. 

Not that you can judge, of course.  You know you’ve drunk more than you should, feeling pleasantly buzzed from your seat in the corner of the bar.  You should call it a night before you do something you’ll regret, like call the woman Barbara told you not to.  Sober, you wouldn’t.  Drunk, you’re flattered enough and wouldn’t say no to the company. 

With a sigh, you push yourself up out of your seat and head towards the elevators.  Pushing the button, you watch the numbers light up as the lift descends.  You squeak in surprise when a strong pair of hands land on your hips, turning you around as a plump pair of lips meet you own.

“I don’t think you’re some stupid kid.”

You blink slowly a few times, taking in the woman before you.  Melissa.  Melissa Schemmenti just kissed you.  You shouldn’t, but you don’t have it in you to deny yourself the pleasure of feeling her lips against yours once more.  You kiss her back with enthusiasm, not protesting when she backs you into the elevator as it opens and moaning as your back hits the wall of the small metallic box, the weight of Melissa pressed against you. 

You’ve always admired her curves.  Pressed against you they’re a dream. 

The clearing of a throat far to close snaps you out of your living dream and you feel Melissa take a step back, biting her lip as she guiltily throws a glance over her shoulder, registering Barb standing in the elevator, her back to you both as if she hasn’t just witnessed exactly what you were both doing. 

Standing close, you grin at the devious smirk being aimed your way by a certain red head.  There’s a dangerous glimmer of mischief in her eyes.  Smudged lipstick and mussed hair from where you hands couldn’t help but run thought it complete the look.  The woman is a work of art. 

You look up as the elevator doors chime open, realising this is your floor.  Stepping forward, you slip past Barb, who merely raises an eyebrow.  You throw a look back at Melissa, who sways forward as though to follow you, before hesitating. 

The doors slide shut, and honestly, it’s probably for the best.

You miss the dark chuckle Barb lets out as the lift begins to ascend once more.

“What you laughing at?” asks Melissa, scowling.  She’s annoyed with herself for hesitating.  She knows what she wants, and she just let it walk out of the elevator.

“You two think you’re subtle?” the older woman drawls.  “She has more of your lipstick on than you do.”

*

If PECSA was party central the night before, it was hangover central the morning after.  You’re sitting outside on the low wall, sunglasses firmly in place, your phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other as you take in the cool morning air. 

“You regret what happened last night?”

You turn to see Melissa, similarly attired.  “What?”

She comes to stand beside the wall on which you’re sat, her gaze wandering anywhere but you as she speaks.  “I came to your room last night.  You didn’t answer.”

“I didn’t hear you,” you admit, watching as her head whips around.  “Too busy throwing up everything I ever drank.”  You feel the blush dusting your cheeks, but continue.  This feels too important to let a little embarrassment stop you.  You take off your sunglasses so she can see your face as you speak,  “I have many regrets about my choices last night, but what happened in the elevator isn’t one of them.”

A slow smile spreads across her lips as she shifts to take a seat next to you.  She slips her own sunglasses off, finally letting you see her eyes.  “Good to know,” she murmurs.  “Me neither.”

You can’t help but smile at that.  You notice her gaze wandering and realise she staring at the phone still clutched in your hand. 

“You planning on using that number you were so interested in yesterday?”

“Honestly?” you ask, seeing the uncertainty in her face as she nods regardless.  “That woman was hot, and while I was more than a little flattered she gave me her number…she isn’t a patch on you.”

Pale cheeks blush adorably pink at your words.  Melissa isn’t used to hearing things like what from you.

“Don’t look so surprised,” you scoff, nudging her shoulder.  “You’ve seen yourself in a mirror, right?  And you needn’t think I go falling in pools over every pretty woman I see.”

“I really distracted you that badly, huh?” she asks, a little of her confidence returning.

You bump her shoulder with yours once more.  “Shut up.”

A gentle hand moves to cup your cheek, turning you to face her as Melissa presses a gentle kiss to your lips.  “For the record,” she says quietly.  “I don’t think you’re some stupid little kid.  I think you’re beautiful.”

You take in a shuddering breath.  It all feels too good to be true.  “What happens at PECSA stays at PECSA?” you ask sadly.

“I’ve never been one for playing by the rules,” she smirks back at you, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before pushing herself to her feet and offering a hand to you.  “Come on, we gotta go find Barb.  Reunite her with her shoes, sobriety and sanity.”

You take the hand being offered like a lifeline, grinning as Melissa starts walking, swinging your joined hands between you.  It’s only as you pass through the front doors to the building that her words even register.  “Wait?  Her shoes?”

[simpee9000]

You Were A Dream ~ 2 ~ T. Amajiki

Blurb Idea : Part One (this is the last part btw) Description : Tamaki was always shy, but with you? He was doing everything he never expected. All with his best friend's sister. it felt like the words cruel joke on him. Yet for you, it was all like a dream. Word Count : 5.7k Warnings : Angst, Hints to Smut but none fr

---

"Are you okay?" your brother asked when he opened the door to your apartment. The first question he's asked since.

And you ignored it.

Going straight to your room and slamming the door.

Falling face-first into your pillow so you could cry.

The realization of the gap between you and Tamaki was painful. The fact that you were so mentally in the relationship while he was still unsure? That was unthinkable.

A sinking feeling was being pressed into your chest, hurting your lungs as you took rapid breaths in, trying to stop crying.

The sinking feeling that Tamaki might not be the one at all. That this past year might of been a waste of hopes and false dreams.

It put a damper on everything.

Moping slightly around the workplace, shining a smile when needed just like your brother would. Just to drop the act at home. Dragging your feet and keeping your head hung low.

It felt pitiful. But you put your all into this relationship. You thought through everything with him, you told him everything.

Mirio started questioning you after a week.

"I didn't think Tamaki would affect you this bad," he was crossing his arms, a concerned look on his face as he left half his thoughts unspoken.

You gave him a dead stare, turning back to your phone and once again ignoring any conversation about this.

If Tamaki didn't want to talk to you about it, you didn't want to talk about it.

And while you were upset. You weren't going to throw him under the bus just to rant. His feelings were realistic, just entirely different than yours.

So you've been reevaluating everything.

This relationship might not work, and maybe you were stupid for thinking it would.

''Hi, beautiful."

You turned your head away from the printer, giving him a soft smile, "Hey Kaminari."

"Why so glum?" he walked next to you, leaning onto the side of the printer, eyeing the stack of work reports you were printing out.

You sighed, "Lots of stuff."

"Boyfriend?"

"Something like that," you shrugged, mindlessly watching the papers slide out of the machine.

"I'm all ears," his cheerful smile made you consider it.

"I just-" your eyes caught onto Tamaki's white hero hoodie, one he was holding down with his hands and turning away from you.

Kaminari glanced where you did, "Is he avoiding you or something?"

"Kind of? I don't know," you shook your head, taking your eyes of his figure and back to the papers.

"What happened?"

"We're just at different points in our relationship," you spoke softly, trying to keep your voice indifferent as you picked up your finished papers, "Might not be much of a relationship anymore."

"Oh, fuck- I'm sorry," Kaminari took the joy from his face as he gave you an apologetic look.

"It's fine," you walked to your office, having his steps behind, "It's my fault really, I got ahead of myself."

"Look," Kaminari stopped you just before your door, "Don't blame yourself for your feelings and don't apologize for them. It doesn't fix anything. You are allowed to feel stuff."

His unusual pep talk made you smile, "Thank you, I needed to hear that," you laughed lightly at how Kirishima has influenced the boy, "I've been telling myself I was overthinking."

"Nah, it's all normal," he smiled brightly at you, patting your shoulder before seeing himself off.

You watched after his figure, thinking over how to go about everything while respecting how you felt and how Tamaki did.

"What was that about?"

"Holy fuck!" You jumped at the voice behind you, "Die. Literally die, Mirio."

"What has you smiling? Boyfriend?"

You glared at him, giving him a disgusted look, "No, get out of my business."

"That look says you and your boyfriend aren't on good terms," Mirio hummed as if he cracked a code.

"No, that look means to fuck off," you walked into your office, shutting your door in his face.

He phased through anyway, "Come on, just tell me what happened, it's been two weeks."

You looked at the calendar on your computer, your anniversary is today.

"What just happened?" Mirio spoke more calmly, "You went from annoyed to just sad."

"Can you please go?" you set your papers down and slouched in your office chair. Rubbing at your eyes to push back the emotions.

"Sis-"

"Please?"

Mirio frowned, stepping out of the office and giving you as sad smile.

All you could do was stare at your computer. The date is brightly marked in your brain and on the screen.

Just for your phone to be void of anything.

For good measure, you opened your phone again, checking your messages.

The last ones just being saddening.

"Can't wait to see your costume!" "I look stupid" "Maybe you'll let me take it off you then?" "oh"

After that there was nothing. No calls, no texts, no stupid Instagram reels. Nothing.

You turned off your phone, tossing it screen down on the desk with a sigh.

The urge to cry was strong, but when you held your head in your hands and looked down, you reminded yourself of all the work you had.

You'd cry when you got home.

Barely getting into your apartment before tears started falling.

You along with them. Shutting the door behind you and slumping against it.

A year wasted felt horrible. You wanted this to work so bad. But if he couldn't talk or come to you after clearly hurting you, then it wasn't worth it.

Sure, you could text him. But the communication on your side was fine, yet he never discussed his. You felt blindsided somewhat.

You deserved more from that.

So you took a deep breath and forced yourself to stand.

This was your anniversary after all, and maybe you wanted that box of brownies buried in your cabinet all for yourself.

Uncovering it and starting to mix it all together, ignoring how you were supposed to make these with Tamaki.

"Hey," Mirio dragged out the word when he opened the door.

"Not sharing," you continued to mix the brownies.

"I brought you someone."

"I don't really wanna hang out with your girlfriend," you tried to decline nicely.

"You sure?"

"Mirio-" you turned around and saw Tamaki messing with his fingers.

"I'll leave you to it," Mirio chirped, "Don't know what happened but I want it resolved."

You slumped further, "Don't bother Mirio, it's fine."

"Huh?" he stopped his steps out.

"He's all yours," you shrugged.

"You don't wanna fix this?" Tamaki spoke softly.

"What is there to fix?" you looked at him plainly, trying to mask the fact you cried over him an hour ago, a day ago, and a week ago.

Tamaki looked between you and Mirio.

You took a deep breath in, ready to let go of the past year.

"Our relationship? Do you just want to break up?" Tamaki asked, voice wobbly.

"Huh?"

You blinked at him, ignoring Mirio's confusion. "I don't want to break up, I thought you wanted to?"

"No, I just-" he looked at Mirio again, "Can we talk about this? Like- somewhere else?"

"Why?"

He nodded his head towards Mirio.

"Do you not want him to know about our relationship? Because you just announced it," you crossed your arms. It seemed like he was okay with dating you, just didn't want Mirio to know any details.

"That's not-" he shook his head, shutting his mouth and looking at Mirio, "We've been dating for a year. I'm- I'm so sorry for not telling you."

"Oh," Mirio shifted how he was standing, "We can talk about that later. Sort out whatever happened, Imma go see Hado." Giving you his signature look of 'call me if you need me'.

Tamaki watched him leave in silence.

"He's going to hate me," he mumbled.

You shrugged, "I doubt it."

Silence rang throughout the room, leaving you to set your brownies into the oven.

"I'm sorry I never talked to you," Tamaki spoke softly, ashamed. You went to turn around before his voice stopped you, "Please- don't look at me. I won't be able to say what I need to."

"I can't be with someone who can't look at me," you sighed, "and don't be someone you're not for me."

"I want to though, I want to better myself for you."

You turned to face him, "Then I need you telling me to my face."

He frowned, lips wobbling as he looked at you.

Deciding not to let the conversation start off so bitter, and completely in his hands, you took a deep breath, "It's our anniversary."

"I- I know," Tamaki tightened his hold on his hand, "I wanted to see you sooner."

"Why didn't you?" You crossed your arms, leaning to rest on the counter behind you, "You could of texted, or called."

Tamaki looked down, ashamed, "I thought you'd ignore it."

"So you didn't even bother trying?"

"I felt like you deserved more, wanted more- So I waited until I could come over without Mirio being suspicious," Tamaki rambled slightly, "Then I realized that was stupid- so I just asked to talk to you through him."

You hummed in agreement, looking at the brownies cooking in the oven rather than him.

"I don't care if he knows, not anymore-"

"Tamaki," you sighed, "That's hardly the thing I'm upset about."

"It's not?" he asked quietly.

"No, I understand you not wanting to tell him- Hell, I hardly wanted to because of how he acts- but the way you went about it? The afterward?" you turned to look at him now, trying to stress your point, "I can dismiss how you said you'd never wanted me to meet your girlfriend. It was a panicked response, hurtful but I can understand your side."

"I truly didn't mean for it to come out that way- I just didn't want Mirio to think I'd choose someone else-"

"That's the issue," you cut him off, wanting to get to the point, "You should choose someone else sometimes- and the way you view our relationship as new? We have entirely different viewpoints and priorities. I can't understand how you told me I'm new- I just- do you know how unvalued that made me feel?" you let your arms fall to your sides, defeated.

Tamaki just blinked at you for a moment, soaking in each word you just said. Watching how your shoulders slump and the way you curl in on yourself. "I didn't mean to- I was just trying to make you see my point."

"By hurting my feelings? I get you were stressed but you completely disregarded me, and our relationship. When I pointed out it'd be a year in two weeks- you just shrugged it off," you huffed, feeling the tears weld behind your eyes once again. He was just proving your thoughts correct. "You didn't even try to call me."

"You didn't text me so I thought-"

"Stop thinking so negatively of me. If you think I'd act in an intentionally hurtful way then why be with me? It's just sad to hear what you think of me. I didn't think for a second you were intentionally trying to hurt me, I just thought you were stressed," you shrugged aggressively, hands thrown into the air "Maybe that's me being naive, I don't know. But you should have reached out, you were the one who hurt me and I made that clear."

He just stared at the floor. Body frozen. So you did the same, unable to look at him as you tried to steady your voice.

You lowered your voice to a whisper, "Maybe we just aren't right for each other. I need someone who matches my priorities and can communicate with me fully- or at least attempt to. I don't think that's too much to ask. It'd make your friendship less awkward too."

"That's not-" Tamaki spoke out panicked, stepping closer to you as you looked up, "I don't want that- at all. I need to work on that, a hundred percent- I'll start right now. You are my top priority, I just completely panicked. I don't care if Mirio knows or if he's mad- well I do in case we get married- I wouldn't want your brother to hate me. But- you mean the most to me. I should have reached out but I got too stuck in my head over how you'd react. It wasn't fair."

His eyes were flickering across your face, trying to catch a glimpse of the slightest change.

"I should have thought more- should have told you more about what I thought," Tamaki lifted his hands briefly- pausing in an attempt to grab your hands before dropping them back to his sides. "I'll do better- I'll prove that my priorities match yours. I just needed to get over telling Mirio- and I did-"

"What happens the next time there's a bump in the road? Will you shut down again and assume the worst? Will you run away from me after being hurtful?" you were closing yourself off, crossing your arms. You didn't even know how to think.

If this were your friend, you'd tell her she is dumb if she believes he's going to change. But you wanted to believe it too. Maybe Tamaki was different, he has always been someone who adapts to things overtime. Maybe you were just dumb.

"I don't know for sure what will happen then, but I know I will try to be better. I want you to be there for me and I want to be there for you- I just don't know how and I should have asked. I'll work on it all- I should have done it sooner," he spoke quickly, slowly getting closer to your space.

You looked away, overwhelmed with his presence, "I don't think I can get over how you dismissed our relationship and our anniversary."

"I just panicked, I'm sorry. I don't know what I'd do if you told me the same. I um- I got you a gift for it- but I don't think now's the time-" he shuffled awkwardly, grabbing something in his pocket briefly before dropping his hand. "I can't explain how sorry I am."

You took a deep breath, he sounded genuine but you were still hurt, "Can I have some time to think about it? I want to believe you- I just don't know how a relationship would work if you didn't communicate to me more."

He stepped away from you, hurt, "Yeah- we can do that- Um- I'll give you your space."

"I don't want space, I just want to think on it," you clarified, hoping he'd get what you meant.

"I'll let you do that then," he shuffled back awkwardly, making his way to the door, "I'll- I'll just leave this here." He took a box out of his pocket and placed it on the counter, awkwardly patting it before speaking, "It's an anniversary gift- don't feel like I'm trying to change your mind- I'm just going to leave you." He blabbed as he fumbled with the door to get it opened.

"It's fine, get home safe," you watched him leave.

He peeked his head back into the room, "I love you- don't feel the need to say it ba-"

"I love you too, get home in one piece," you held back a giggle at his anxiousness and the way his face brightened at your words, ears turning red as he held his head down and walked out of your apartment.

The beeping of the oven caught your attention just as the door closed behind him.

Leaving you to eat the brownies while they were still burning hot.

You're glad he came to you- even though it took two weeks. He still came to you. He said he'd changed, so all you could do was wait and see.

"Home, I hope the brownies you made hit the craving you talked about"

He texted you, so that was a start.

When Mirio came home you were curious about his response to everything.

So seeing him come home with his brows furrowed and his mouth in a frown alarmed you.

"You good?" you asked, half chewing the brownie you cut out.

"Tamaki's the guy you've been seeing? The dude you've been upset over?" He crossed his arms in front of you, standing across the counter from where you sat at the island.

"Yeah," you shrugged, you didn't want a lecture.

"How come you guys never told me?"

You gave him a pointed look, "Really? You got weird when me and him were in the same room."

"Because I knew he liked you and I didn't want him to make you uncomfortable," he huffed, "I'm fine with you guys dating- I just wish I was told. I had a feeling anyways."

"Sure," you rolled your eyes.

"I did! He looked at you odd," he pouted, before taking on another serious face, "Did you guys resolve the issue?"

You shrugged again, "I don't know, It's a mess right now."

"What even happened?" he asked as he slumped into the couch you were sitting next to.

You slumped further into your seat, "The thing he said at the party started an argument is all."

"He was telling me he wasn't talking with you, like communicating well," Mirio added, trying to show he knew some details.

"Yeah," you shrugged, "I don't really wanna talk about it all."

"Okay," he drummed his fingers on the couch, "That movie you talked about is on streaming, wanna watch it?"

Since then, Tamaki has been trying every day. He was also trying to let you think for yourself so that led to awkward moments. He'd ask you to come over then fumble for an excuse to cancel. He was proving he'd try, and that's all you wanted.

He also started to bring you a coffee in the morning before scattering off to his own work.

"Denki, that's single-handedly the dumbest thing you've ever said," you laughed, he just said he didn't understand what you were talking about when you mentioned an article over 'human connection' and asked what that even meant.

"I'm just confused," he threw his hands up, "What's human connection?"

"Socializing," you explained, "Like, humans interacting and making a connection, stupid."

"Oh," he blinked at you.

You rolled your eyes and caught Tamaki's eye across the room, looking at you with a frown. Not really at you either, mainly at Denki.

Denki noticed your far off look, looking over his shoulder to see what you were. "Should I go?" he laughed awkwardly.

You shrugged, "If he has an issue with it, he can tell me." You looked back at Denki.

"Okay, I guess," he dragged out, shuffling on his feet, "I took your advice."

"Hm?"

"With Jirou, I asked her out finally," he spoke as if a weight on his shoulders disappeared. He's been talking to you about her for the past few weeks, wanting to be a cheesy couple during the holidays.

"Really?" you jumped up, "What happened?"

He sighed, "She's um, she's dating Momo, Creati if you didn't know."

"Oh, Denki that sucks, but at least you know," you frowned at him, "Did it affect how she treats you, or anything?"

"No, she's not the type to do that, she kinda just brushed it off and told me she had a girlfriend," he shrugged, looking around the office rather than you, "It sucks though, I've had a thing for her since first year."

She seemed to go about it in a nice way, he just seemed disappointed. "Didn't you say Kirishima's new assistant caught your eye?"

"I don't even know her, with Jirou I actually saw a personality behind the looks."

"That just means you need to do that again, you'll get that interest again, just gotta look for it," you shrugged, looking at the time on the clock and grabbing at your papers, you had a meeting in five minutes.

"Says the one that's with her childhood crush," he huffed, "I wish I had that spark."

"It's not all that it's cut out to be, but I see what you mean, I thought the same thing until it happened to me," you tried to reassure, giving him a pointed look, "You'll find someone, just gotta actually look for them not just their looks."

Denki scoffed, "You sound like Kacchan, hopeless romantic bullshit."

"It's not bullshit," you laughed, "I'll help set you up with a friend if you want? Text me if you do, meeting time."

"I think about it," he hummed, "Good luck with your meeting."

You padded towards the meeting doors, opening them to make a beeline towards your assigned seat with all the papers you had over your assignments this month. Smiling at the coffee cup sat next to your nametag with a little T written on it.

Though he gave you a smile during the meeting, you only got to talk afterward.

"Why'd Chargebolt look so upset?" Tamaki asked first thing. You were still collecting your papers into a pile when you asked so you looked at him confused. "Earlier, when the two of you were talking, he- this isn't a jealous thing- I'm just confused- Isn't he the I don't know, happy one?"

Happy with the confirmation of why he was asking, you answered, "He asked someone out and it didn't go to well, he's liked them since forever too."

"Oh," he hummed, "Sorry, I just noticed the way your face dropped with his- I thought maybe something bad happened and that you wouldn't- never mind."

You raised your brow at his rambling and the cut-off, tucking the papers neatly into your arm before looking at him with your full attention.

He let out a sigh, "I was worried something happened, and that you wouldn't tell me. I'm kind of- insecure I guess, lately, since I don't know what we are and how we stand on that stuff."

"Fair, I don't know where we stand either, I still need to think it over. I can see that you're trying though, I appreciate it," you smiled, "But just know that you're probably the first I'd go to still," you added, feeling somewhat guiltily that you had his strung along.

"Okay," he smiled back, "I'd go to you first too."

You continued on with your day separately afterward.

Falling asleep and waking up to the same dream since you've told him to wait.

The dream of how you guys used to be, it was cute, it also made you yearn for it. The dream went over the before, then to the fight, then ended with you going to his apartment and confessing your love and want for him.

You've been sitting with it for a while, he's shown change but you wanted to know fully. The decision was made but you still wanted to be confirmed you wouldn't regret it.

The light in your room was dim, but the light through the window casted a prefect sliver of light on the jewelry box that Tamaki left with you after the fight.

You still haven't opened it.

Not wanting it to be attached to a negative memory of him, you left it to the side. Knowing that if you opened it then, you'd only think of the fight when he gave it. So you waited till your mind was made up.

Which it was, and since you couldn't act like how you did in your dream and run to his apartment in the middle of the night, it felt fair to open it now.

So you rolled yourself out of bed and turned on your desk lamp, lighting up the box perfectly. It was a deep navy velvet, the coating all fancy ring boxes have. Clicking open easily to shine your favorite tone of jewelry shimmering with a very pale blue butterfly being held as a pendant. Something he mentioned was his favorite, something he said he gave to those he loved most.

Something Mirio was never gifted.

His mom had a bracelet with small gold butterflies making the chain, he got it for her after his first paycheck. She was the only one he had given one to, until now.

You shouldn't have immediately compared yourself with your brother, but you couldn't help it. You fully had something he didn't.

Now you really wanted to act on your dream and run to him. Already throwing on a hoodie and pants, and shoving your foot into a slip-on shoe before you could think. Grabbing your keys off your desk before running out the door.

Ignoring the sirens going off faintly in the distance, another hero could deal with it, and running towards his apartment in the snow.

Ever the romantic, you were, you were inwardly laughing to yourself at the cheesy romance. Feeling giddy as you pressed his floor number in the elevator. This was just like every rom-com ever. The love interest running through bad weather to reunite. It was like everything you dreamed of.

Pounding at his door as you bit your cheek, nerves running through you at the fact you were getting your relationship back.

After a few knocks, you went to check your phone for the time, noticing the lack of weight in your pocket and the fact you didn't know your phone.

You knocked louder, disappointment settling in.

You heard a door click open behind you, and a groggy mumble of your name as well.

"Denki?" you turned towards Kirishima's door, "What are you doing here?"

"Kiri asked me to dog sit," he looked at you weirdly, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm getting back with Tamaki- speaking of which- do you know where he is? I don't have my phone," you rocked on the heels of your feet, the nerves of talking about it all, getting to you.

Denki's face dropped, "You don't have your phone? Did you walk here?"

"Yeah- why do you look so freaked out?"

"The fucking news- I thought you would have seen it- fuck- hold on," he walked back inside.

You stepped near the door, confused, "What news? You're freaking me out."

He grabbed his keys and shoved his feet in crocs before motioning you to walk with him, "I don't- Amajiki is in the hospital- it just fucking happened- I'm surprised you didn't hear it on the way here."

Your feet stuttered as you walked, tripping you to run into him, "The fuck?"

Denki picked up your hand and pulled you into the elevator, "The building clasped on him while he was helping people evacuate from a fire. The news stopped broadcasting it afterwards."

Everything that was running in your body stopped, you felt nothing.

"I tried calling you- I'm sorry- fuck I'm so sorry."

You didn't even register anything until Mirio was wrapping you into a tight hug at the hospital. Mumbling frantic 'I'm sorry' and 'I tried to save him's.

Soaking in the look of the hospital. Nurses and doctors running around to each hero on the floor. Some from the same incident as Tamaki and some from another horrific event.

Being a hero, and friends with heroes, meant a secure fact of never being safe and never a promised day. You weren't living some type of fairytale dream, no matter how much you believed that. You just never imagine how it'd feel to look at your loved one while they were being stabilized with fluids and oxygen.

It felt like there was cotton shoved in your ears. A weight in your chest and something stuck in your throat. Nothing of you would function as you stood at the end of his bed. Listening to the nurse discuss his state and not being able to ask anything further. Just feeling lost.

A lot of smoke was in his lungs, it was the main reason he was in the hospital. He was on oxygen because of that. Then he was on fluids because of how his quirk worked, it depleted him of what he needed as he used it before he passed out from all the smoke. He also broke his arm, shattered from the ceiling caving in on him.

All you could think was that you were glad he wasn't dead.

It only took him a couple of hours to wake up, luckily. With how guilty your brother acted and how sorry Denki looked, you felt like he was dead. Yet you still felt nauseous when you heard him speak.

"Could I get some water?" he croaked. You jumped from your seat, not expecting his voice as you zoned out on his broken arm.

His voice was absolutely shattered, and he chugged the water the second you handed it to him. Listening to you tell him everything the doctors told you and calling the doctors in to talk with him about staying until the afternoon for his vitals to stabilize fully.

"Sorry I scared you," he mumbled quietly after the door clicked shut, his thumb tracing over your knuckles, you held his hands when the doctors came in.

"You were saving people, it's your job," you spoke for him but also yourself, you wanted to be mad that he could have died before you got to confess everything, but you couldn't be. You were the one who waited after all.

He just stayed silently for a moment, "Is that the necklace?"

You reached your free hand to touch it, "Yeah."

"Why now?"

"I um, I put it on before I knew anything happened. I was coming over to your apartment to talk about everything- and then Denki told me what happened," you squeezed his hand tighter.

"You were going to talk to me? What about?" his voice was still shot but he sounded more nervous, his heart rate shower higher on the monitor.

"It's not something we should talk about in a hospital room" you laughed softly, "It can wait."

"I wanna talk about it now, I don't care," his voice was somewhat firm but was also pleading. It made you look at him more, his hair was a mess, hardly in the shape he tried to keep it in. He had smudges of ash on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. Skin paler than normal. To word it simply, he looked horrible. The last thing you wanted to do was make him anxious.

"I've decided," you turned to sit next to him, moving to have his hand in your lap as you looked at him, "I definitely want to be with you, though our problems definitely still need to be communicated more, we should do that together."

"You're not saying this out of guilt right?" he mumbled, a frown and worried eyes showing his worry.

"No, I was already at your apartment before I knew, I made up my mind a couple of days ago."

"Thank fuck." You laughed at his uncommon swear. "I'll do everything I can to keep you happy," he squeezed your hand this time, and when you hummed in reply, he moved past it, "Do you like the necklace?"

"I love it," you smiled, "it's perfect."

He blushed, "I was worried you'd hate it, I had to keep checking your jewelry to know which you liked more, gold or silver."

"Well you were right, I'm never taking this off- by the way," you laughed softly, wanting to go in for a hug but noticing him flinch his broken arm away. "-Shit- sorry."

"We- can- if you want-" he coughed out of awkwardness, not smoke, before he mumbled, "kiss."

You took his offer instantly, connecting your lips gently for the first time in almost a month. Feeling the spark from before and tasting the smoke he inhaled. Pulling away with a laugh when his heart rate monitor started blaring at how fast it was beating. 

After he was cleared from the hospital, you stayed with him. Having Hado bring you a bag of clothes so you wouldn't have to leave him alone and after a long joking, but not joking, sex talk with Mirio, you were left alone with him.

You were babying him, you'll admit it. But you felt bad, you basically left him and while on the way to get him back you ignored him almost dying. You didn't know, but you should have.

Dishing up the ordering of his favorite food while he watched his favorite show on the couch.

"You don't have to do all this, you know," he mumbled when you handed him the dish.

"Let me have this," you sighed out, "I should have told you I wanted to continue our relationship but I made you wait- then it led me to-"

"It's not your fault," he cut you off, leaving you to huff and sit next to him.

Not knowing what else to say, that he wouldn't object, you settled on the truth, "I love you."

As always, he flushed red and choked on his ramen. Only mumbled a quiet 'I love you too' after he got his food down correctly.

You let him enjoy his food before saying anything else, letting him place the empty bowl on the table with another 'thank you' before you start talking about it again. "I had a dream before all that happened too," you looked down at your hands, "It was super cheesy- I did basically what I ended up doing before I found out what happened. I rushed out of my house in the middle of the night, running through the snow to get to you."

He let you think over your words, noticing you were just trying to explain how you felt.

"I just rushed out without a thought to grab my phone- it was dumb of me."

"You could never have known," Tamaki placed his hand on your knee to drag your attention to him, "It's not like your dream could have predicted that- life isn't like dreams."

"It is with you," you whispered when you looked up.

"Cheesy," he cringed, voice still soft with a smile regardless, his nose wrinkling, "You were a dream too."

He leaned in for a kiss, laughing along with you at how corny everything felt. It was everything your younger felt hoped for with just a bit more realism, it was beautiful.

You deepened the kiss once the laughter faded, going to grab his shoulder before he jerked away in pain. "Shit- sorry," you mumbled, pulling back to look at his arm.

"It's fine," he pulled you into him again with his good arm, dragging you partly in his lap, as much as he could, before he settled his hand on your hip.

"Really?" you pulled back and gave him a look, your hips were perfectly over his.

He blushed, "It's been a while since we kissed," he said in explanation.

"If only you weren't broken," you laughed, giving him a peck on the lips before moving to get off his lap.

"Hey," he held you to his lap with his hand, face still shy, "Not all of me is broken."

"Tamaki, we are not having sex for the first time with you injured," you laughed at how out of character he was being, "What happened to you being shy?"

"You told me to communicate," he frowned, "We can still kiss then? I just- I wanna be close to you. I missed you.."

"I didn't expect you to communicate sex stuff," you laughed at how he was truly going above and beyond what you asked.

He rolled his eyes, "Can we?"

"Of course," you smiled before leaning back in to kiss him.

Younger you would faint at the position he had you in once his arm was healed a week after from healing quirks.

Dreaming that he'd be so soft and loving- and while he was- he was also lost. The second he slipped his dick into you after all the foreplay, he moaned so loud. He let go of any shyness he had and started whimpering in your neck.

And that's just to put it nicely.

---

~ Part one ~ My Full Master List ~

I'll probably make a few blurbs about this if people want but I could not for the life of me write a full smut scene.

Happy Holidays!

[molecularhomosexual]

wanted to add some thoughts on this thread. i've seen a lot of responses from professors and educators who care quite a bit for their students and create space for them to be able to put effort toward understanding things--and this latter perspective synergizes with being against using AI for essays at school. i wanted to add some more thoughts onto this with the context of: getting to work in teaching and learning shops at universities, i've found a huge variance between the care and patience that professors have for their students with essay-style assignments.

higher ed seems to be becoming quite interested in checking for ai-based plagiarism in essays (might be happening in k12 spaces too, i'm just not familiar with it as much). turnitin, the company that does the whole plagiarism checking software for schools and colleges, now has an ai detection tool that clients can purchase (that also, in our testing, pulls up far more false positives and false negatives than what they advertise to clients). the company always publicly claims that the turnitin similarity checker (this is the main "plagiarism detection" tool) is not exactly a watertight tool, it is a tool that can help with starting conversations about academic integrity with students, and it needs to be paired with instructor expertise on the topic. this ends up conflicting with a common-enough attitude among some faculty that turnitin is getting a perfect match on whether a student has plagiarized or not. combine this move in higher ed with:

depending on how a course is run, the fact of activities being graded in those courses can add a great deal of pressure on students that may not be conducive to learning. i think Jesse Stommel has some compelling stuff to say here through his concept of ungrading: he notes how grading systems have become increasingly comparative and numerical over time, he notes that grades in and of themselves aren't great incentives for learning or the best indicators of feedback in learning, grade-based education tends to favor (or at least be more amenable to) the banking model of education over critical pedagogy--and he backs this up with in-class experiments and experience. i've noticed that creative writing programs have often been at the forefront of finding alternatives to grading systems that are more supportive for their students (Asao Inoue talks about labor-based grading contracts as more equitable than grading systems that connect grades to an evaluation of quality, though I do think even this system could cut out the grading component altogether and still retain its interventional value).

these two points can lead to the following: students often have to do two tasks in an essay being graded: a) write an essay in and of itself, with its intent of critical thinking, effort, analysis; and b) get a good grade, because regardless of the actual material efficacy of grades in getting future work outside of the university (this will cash out differently sometimes based on the field you're working in as well), there will be students who feel a pressure to get good grades (for a variety of reasons). multiply one essay in a course with taking 4 or 5 more classes (common in undergrad) and working a job at the same time (common at my alma mater at the very least), and we're creating a recipe for students to feel absolutely unsupported in the academic environment to actually work on practicing analysis without additional outside pressure.

i think the current conditions across a lot of academia help create conditions for students to use cheating as a strategy to get a better grade: "i can either put all the extra work in to doing this right and possibly get a bad grade anyway, depending on how my professor is deciding to grade the quality of essays; or given that i have a shift to run to after this and family to take care of at home, i can see if there's a quicker solution to take, even if that could also have a risk of ruining my grade. what's worth it, to me?" and in response to this, academic integrity offices will start wondering how to discourage students from cheating, and in happy and hawkish response, academic integrity software companies can get new product contracts on their ai detection tools, that instructors, in their variance of usage of plagiarism tools, can use to either have conversations with students about work in the best case scenario, or punish students through grading them poorly in the worst.

i dunno. i am a philosopher at the end of the day--in my experience with the kind of writing philosophy demands, i don't think that AI writing passes muster in the first place (i imagine this is the case with... most any field that involves any amount of creative writing). but i just want to keep in mind that in my experience working at the university space, for every professor who is genuinely interested in their students' learning and who does everything within their capacity to set them up for success, there is a professor who, regardless of interest, generates a great deal of distress for their students by dispensing with punitive measures in the learning space.

i think that this is likely a reason why some teaching and learning shops have tended to build guidelines for how to use or discuss AI writing with students instead of recommending faculty to discourage its use by students altogether: even though i think a shop should ideally be able to recommend the latter, that doesn't do a lot for the reactionary portion of a faculty community who will consider the shop backwards for making such a recommendation, then continue on with teaching practices that are harmful to students' learning and well-being. (i think the defensive position also comes from not having any deciding power over the business contracts for AI software happening with leadership doing kingdom-building far away from the rest of us [unionize, anyone?], where if there's an evaluation that there's nothing the institution can do to prevent AI usage, then it makes sense to have a damage mitigation strategy to do the least harm to students as possible).

i would have been lucky to have any of the teachers on this thread as my own when i was going through undergrad. unfortunately, what i faced far more were instructors who didn't care very much--either from being tenure-track researchers who weren't particularly committed to teaching, or from (understandably) reacting against being overworked adjunct lecturers who didn't have the capacity to care as much as they should have. what i faced in undergrad quite a bit, barring some notable exceptions here and there, were instructors who didn't care anyway whether i could think critically about something or put effort into writing about a certain perspective. what i faced in undergrad, primarily so, were instructors who were just checking if i could say the correct thing back to them in the correct way--and instructors who would punish me or my peers for failing to do this, no matter how much work they put into an assignment.

if universities as an institution want students to not use AI for essays (something that i'm generally aligned with), they need to give adequate resources to faculty and students alike to be able to focus on essays without fear of academic punishment and without generated lack of capacity from overwork. (but of course, universities is an abstraction here--faculty/staff unions and student worker unions do push for those resources, because university leadership isn't otherwise interested in granting them, because it's not particularly profitable to care about the conditions of learning.)