#i have been thinking about it more and more tbh and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

withleeknow · 2 days

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i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝

me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)

light years.

summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue

I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier

One.

Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.

While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.

Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.

And above all, he's got you.

You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.

You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.

Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.

"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.

Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.

It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.

In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.

You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.

Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.

Two.

Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.

Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.

But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.

He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.

It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.

As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.

He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.

Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.

He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" he asks gently.

You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.

"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."

Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.

You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.

Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.

Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.

"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."

Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.

I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.

But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.

"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."

Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.

Three.

Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.

To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.

You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.

He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?

He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.

You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.

You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."

"Please elaborate."

"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."

Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?

"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."

"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"

And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?

I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.

You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.

For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.

But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.

"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."

Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.

Four.

Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.

Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.

He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.

You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.

All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.

Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.

"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.

Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.

He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.

You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."

He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.

He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.

Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.

Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."

Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.

You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.

"What look?"

"You had a look."

"No, I didn't," Minho insists.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.

"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.

You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."

"What? I'm speaking from experience."

"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"

"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."

Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"

"How do you know they didn't come true?"

"Because..."

Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.

Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.

"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."

There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.

"No, what were you going to say?"

"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.

"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.

What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?

And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.

"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."

He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.

But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.

What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.

Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.

The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.

"I've waited for you long enough."

His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.

Then it all comes rushing out.

"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."

Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.

If you really love me too.

Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.

He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.

He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."

You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?

You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"

Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.

Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"

You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.

Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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cuubism · 2 days

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HURT/COMFORT PROMPTS YOU SAY *pulls out giant scroll* okay what about (probably human) trans chronically ill dream dealing with a health crisis and hob is trying to support him through it? bonus points: maybe dream's parents are being shitheads so dream and hob have to get _married_ to make sure dream's wishes in hospital or wherever are respected?

(from meadow. i am not having feelings about anything in particular, Why would you Ask.)

@meadowziplines this was supposed to be angsty but it just ended up kind of wholesome tbh. that's the opposite of what usually happens to me

you've seen married for tax purposes before, now see married for next of kin legal rights

Hob knew he wanted to marry Dream within two weeks of their first date, but he tried to be reasonable about it. Dream was shy and guarded his hard-won independence closely, and Hob felt that just declaring his eternal love too quickly was a sure way to scare him off. So he didn't.

Now he's regretting it, because hell, it would have made this so much easier. That's not how he wants to think about marrying Dream, about it making being in a hospital easier, but here they are. And he is.

And it's why he's hiding around a corner as Dream's parents are "visiting"--more like being complete assholes--his hospital room. God, Hob hates them. This whole situation is the only reason he's even met them--Dream doesn't talk to them anymore, and for good reason, but the moment they caught wind of vulnerability they pounced on the chance to regain control.

Dream is an adult and can make his own decisions, but Mr. and Mrs. Cunt have proven very slippery and manipulative and have played the 'Hob's not family, we're family' card at every possible turn to get him kicked out of the room. Hob's gotten a couple of the nurses on his side on account of not being a complete asshole but he still doesn't like his chances duking it out in front of hospital administration over who gets to make Dream's medical decisions if he's incapacitated.

Dream's fought so hard to have control over his own life. Hob won't let him lose it.

Which is why he's currently hiding behind the vending machines until they leave, rather than going in there and telling them where to shove it.

He waits with bated breath until they're gone, then scrambles out, rushing down the hall with his paperwork and slipping into Dream's room. He feels like a criminal. Which is exactly why he's doing all this.

"Hob," Dream breathes, as Hob closes the door behind him. He looks exhausted. Terrible parents who insist on disrespecting you are not good for fragile health. "I thought you left."

Hob flashes him a grin, but feels how it wobbles. "Never. Just had to go get something."

He's so nervous about how Dream will react to this. It feels so likely to go wrong.

He sits in the chair by the bed so he's on Dream's level, takes his hand. "Listen, baby. This-- this really isn't how I wanted to do this. But I just-- I really don't want things to go wrong, you know? And if they do go wrong, I want us to be able to do something about it. I want to be in your corner."

His anxious rambling makes Dream's face start to fall. "Hob..."

Hob thrusts the paperwork at him. "Will you marry me?"

He had something so much more romantic in his head for the moment he finally asked Dream to marry him. He would have swept him off his feet and made him feel special. If only it could have been different.

Dream picks up the papers, seemingly in shock. "This is..."

"I did all the paperwork already, it just needs signatures," Hob tells him. "And I bribed one of the nurses to let us out for an hour to go to the registrar's office. If. If you want."

Dream keeps staring at the papers in silence. Hob doesn't want him to think this was just some act of desperation, even if it kind of was, at least timing-wise. God, this isn't what he wanted at all.

"I wanted to marry you anyway," he says, shifting nervously in his chair. "But now it's just-- I don't want you to be scared that something will go wrong with the surgery but I want you to know that someone will have your back and do what you want. Not--"

"--my terrible, terrible parents?" Dream finishes, lips finally quirking up in a half-smile.

"...Yeah." He swallows hard to calm himself. It's a lot, what he's asking, in a sense. All the legal rights it creates. But. "If you can trust me with this, then I'll protect you. I promise."

"You have already," Dream says. "As you did with the hospital admin. I think they hate you now." He seems quietly delighted about it.

Hob's always known he can be a bit annoying at times but this experience has taught him how truly annoying it is possible to be. When they got there, none of Dream's chart info was under the right name or gender, and nobody seemed particularly inclined to update it. At least not until Hob pestered them, and pestered them, and pestered them.

So yeah, they kind of hate him, but he got to be Dream's hero so it was all worth it in the end.

It's another reason he needs to get this legal shield in place now. Between Dream's slick parents and their money, and Hob who's being a continual nuisance, he thinks he knows who'll come out on top with the administration.

"...So?" he says. "Will you marry me?"

Dream starts tearing up, and Hob thinks, oh god, oh god, I've ruined it-- then Dream pulls him close and throws his arms around him. "Yes," he breathes. "I will. I-- I wanted to for so long."

That makes idiots of the both of them, then.

But Hob doesn't dwell on it for long. He hugs Dream back, then kisses him, pressing his face between his hands. Now that the stress of asking is over, the real feeling bubbles up inside him. Joy. Elation. He's marrying Dream.

"I love you," he says, and Dream smiles. "Now let's get out of here."

Their makeshift ceremony at the registrar's office is very emotional despite being completely spontaneous. It's just them, plus Death who Hob got to come along as their witness, and they don't yet have rings to exchange--but at the end of it, Dream is his husband.

Truthfully, Dream deserves better, he deserves a lavish romantic ceremony with flowers and fine clothes and desserts and anything he could possibly want. But... Hob is his husband now. He can give him better, later. And what a joy is that.

Dream is exhausted by the time Hob gets him back to his room, but seems happy nevertheless. He takes a nap while Hob goes to show a copy of the marriage license to hospital admin and gets them to update their records. The next time someone tries to kick him out of Dream's room it's fucking on.

And he doesn't have to wait long. He gets one peaceful day of being able to sit in Dream's room unimpeded, reading to him and just generally being able to enjoy his company without hiding behind the vending machines, before Dream's parents come back.

Dream tenses at the knock on the door, and Hob's never felt more powerful than when he stands up and says, "Don't worry, I'll tell them to leave."

"You needn't--" Dream starts, but Hob shakes his head.

"Oh, no, I'm looking forward to this."

He opens the door with a grin to find Dream's mother on the other side, and stands conveniently in the doorway, blocking her view of Dream. "Hey."

Hob can practically see her blood pressure rise at the sight of him. "You. I thought we had dealt with you."

"I'm hard to deal with," Hob says. "Sorry." He's not sorry.

She tries to push forward. "Out of my way."

Hob blocks her, and can't help a rather vicious smile. "Dream wants you to leave."

"You have no right to even be in here, never mind to tell me to leave," snaps Dream's mother.

Hob hands her a copy of the marriage certificate. He's got several. "On the contrary."

She stares at it, and is, for a moment, completely speechless.

"As Dream's husband," he says, and oh the words are delicious, "I'm telling you to leave. And I think you should do it before I call security on you." An echo of what she and Dream's father had said to him in the past.

Her jaw clenches and she shoves the paper back at him. "That they even let people like you marry in this country is an abomination. You are perverting the sanctity of marriage."

"That's my absolute favorite thing to do," Hob says, and shuts the door in her face.

"I think you enjoyed that far too much, Hob," Dream says as Hob turns back to him. Then he starts giggling. "Did you notice?"

"What?"

"Mother finally agreed that I am a man so she could be homophobic about it," Dream says, and dissolves into giggles once again. "She always said I needed to find a husband; I can't imagine why she isn't happy that I have."

"'Apologies, Mother,'" Hob says, doing his best imitation of Dream's posh accent as he sits down beside him again, "'I know you would have preferred that I marry a respectable young heir from the polo club but I'm afraid I'm shacking up with the guy running the local tavern. In lieu of a gift please just don't attend the wedding.'"

Dream laughs again, then says, "Will there be a proper wedding?"

"You want there to be?"

Hesitantly, Dream nods.

"Then there will be."

Dream smiles, and Hob takes his hand, squeezes it. "And think on what sort of ring you want," Hob says. "By the time you get out of surgery next week, I'll have it for you."

"I do love you," Dream sighs.

"Not regretting not marrying Lord Whoever from polo club?"

"There was no polo club," Dream says. "There was croquet, however--"

"Oh my God--"

"--however, you are the one I want to be married to."

Hob smiles. "Good." He kisses Dream's hand. "And you know, right? You know I wanted to marry you anyway? This was just a-- a timing thing."

"I know. But, I admit, I've found this all far more entertaining than I'd have thought." He smiles up at Hob. There's nothing better in the world than that clever smile. "You are a gallant husband."

If Hob can get Dream to keep looking at him like that, he thinks he'll be happy for the rest of his life.

"Promised to protect you, didn't I?" he says. "And so I will."

#hob said 'dream identifies as a man and you better respect it. as for me? i identify as a PROBLEM'#i think he should get to be super annoying as a treat #dreamling #my writing #ask #meadowziplines #hob's like ask me not about my dreams of being a knight in shining armor ok. don't even ask #cw homophobia

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circuitcircus · 1 day

Text

in defense of kabumisu……..

addressing things I see people say about why kabru being shipped w mithrun is ‘bad’ or why their canon relationship ‘doesn’t mean anything’ while also clearing up misconceptions of the characters some fans have

listen it keeps popping up and I just gotta do this or my brain will melt (if you don’t see it around then god I wish that were me) feel free not to read lol there’s an age gap!- erm there’s also an age gap in farcille (ily), the most popular ship in the series...also chilchuck looks like a kid but a lot of fans recognize him as a dilf because of his relative age, so there should be no age gap discourse among adult characters because it feels so conditional tbh

kabru taking care of mithrun is racist!- marcille likes to take care of others as well. is that sexist, or just an aspect of her character?

kabru isn’t treated like a servant, waiting on mithrun hand and foot…I mean he gives mithrun a foot massage but no one told him to do all that lmfao

he's also not the only one to care for mithrun. pattadol is shown to worry for him and milsril was the one to start taking care mithrun in the first place after he…...y’know. speaking of which-

they probably met when kabru was a kid!- neither of them showed signs of recognizing each other the entire time mithrun was introduced nor when they were together. and im pretty sure KABRU of all people would show some kind of recognition if they'd met before. it's kabru!!! the people person!!! mr. "i-noted-down-50+-characters-in-this-dude's-backstory-for-fun-and-actually-enjoy-social-gatherings"

you would think some kind of memory would come back to him especially after hearing mithrun’s backstory if milsril had even told kabru about him as a kid. but nope. it’s just fan speculation unless there's a side comic suggesting otherwise that i haven't seen

mithrun doesn't care about kabru, his shapeshift double looked like shit!- it's obviously because of mithrun's (then) lack of desires that it looked like that, but they really grow on each other

i think it's safe to assume it'd look more like kabru after they spent so much time together (also laios can barely even remember kabru's name, give this guy a hug)

mithrun is racist!- he’s actually the least likely character to be racist since he lost his desires and that includes a desire for superiority over others. he even calls his past self out on that part of himself. the other elves in that side comic were being just as racist to shorter lived races but just didn’t use ‘outdated slurs’

(unfortunately literally every main character in dunmeshi is at least a lil prejudiced, but I believe it’s worldbuilding and a sign of the times rather than a reason ryoko kui is giving to hate each character)

taking care of others is a pain in the ass!- saying this as a reason kabru and mithrun shouldn't be together is basically saying disabled people shouldn't be allowed to have romantic relationships because they're a "burden"...if someone is actually willing to put in the work, then let them be.

that's not even all of their relationship, mithrun is the fighter of their duo and kabru would've been killed by the shapeshifter or something if he'd fallen down the hole on his own since he sucks at fighting monsters. mithrun helps collect ingredients for cooking every time, too (barometz fruits and griffin egg). he pulls his weight and then some!! i feel like people forget that part of mithrun a lot somehow.

+senshi literally cooks for everyone all time. it's kind of an important aspect of the narrative.

+also, while it is a popular fan thing I see around that kabru handfeeds mithrun, he literally never does lol this is mithrun using his own hands to eat:

also here we have him washing his own body

just saying because people like to treat mithrun like a baby even though the narrative respects him as a capable adult who also has special needs because of an accident. he’s captain for a reason

kabru hates taking care of mithrun!- not exactly, he was initially surprised and put off but got used to it quickly. i’m sure he’s grateful for all the times mithrun saved him from a monster and teleported them out of danger as well

he even starts doing “unnecessary” things for mithrun’s comfort and safety like when mithrun pushes himself too hard fighting, even after his mission to take care of him was complete when the canaries came back

here is even kabru resting while mithrun keeps watch (mithrun let him sleep for 5 hours before waking him up from the nightmare earlier, too):

there's nothing more to their relationship!- they actually have had a very tight and consistent dynamic since they met and they incite the most change within each other by the end. kabru is the one who inspires mithrun to create new desires so he doesn't waste away, and mithrun is the first person we see kabru being genuine with and it leads him to be more honest with others by the end instead of tiptoeing around everyone all the time (that mask was also the reason some ppl initially disliked kabru…)

kabru’s relationship with mithrun is honestly so important for his character and vice versa, but it’s often disregarded because of one over exaggerated aspect of it (an aspect that isn’t even the first way they interact with each other) or because people want to just straight up ignore it for some reason 🥲🥲

kui dedicates many panels to them that don't particularly serve the narrative as a whole in order to demonstrate this and i think that's pretty significant

you're taking this too seriously!- as if i'm the first person in the world to be crazy about a ship or the characters 😭 i love analyzing text and it's upsetting to see them mischaracterized when kui lays out the characters so clearly and deliberately

also they end up touching each other like all the time and have the kind of canon validation most ppl can only dream of lol i feel so insane look at this:

and this is just when they're first getting to know each other cuz there's a fuckload more

kinda hard to explain how i don't actually need them to get married or whatever but i'd die on this hill for them and i enjoy their dynamic immensely

haha you thought you were reading ship discourse but it was actually a character analysis 🤪🤪🤪

also don’t somehow take this to mean I think anyone has to ship them, I just need everyone to understand these accusations kind of don’t make sense especially when they can also apply to other pairs or characters

I find it fun that mithrun waited for kabru to wake up before moving on after they first fell through the hole. why indeed…idk but it’s cute either way

bonus kabru looking at mithrun:

#dungeon meshi #kabumisu #kabru of utaya #mithrun #dungeon meshi spoilers #i'd rather be able to enjoy their dynamic without feeling like i have to explain it but i keep seeing the same takes i cant do this anym-#i feel like i advocate for kabumisu so much because i see so many people mischaracterizing kabru to make l4bru work like how they want #by saying he’s obsessed w laios because he thinks he’s hot..but he was curious about his autistic behavior and eventually thought his lack #of malice would make laios the best candidate for becoming dungeon lord to prevent another utaya tragedy. tho eventually he doubts that #not that i care that he's shipped with laius. i just want ppl to see kabru for who he IS bc some still think hes nothing but a shady bicth #i think that's best shown through his dynamic with mithrun (other than his own words of course) so i want ppl to acknowledge it properly #like idk if I can trust popular fan interpretations of the characters or relationships anymore after the shit with toshiro bro 💀💀#not trying to attach kabru’s entire being to mithrun or anything either just..saying #hm i feel like the way i worded all of this will make some ppl mad. not my intention but whoops #anyways has anyone drawn ship art of senshi and mithrun yet? anyone?

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the-modern-typewriter · 10 hours

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helloo just wanted to know your thoughts on the recent tik tok commentary on “booktok” about how literature is being “ruined because of spicy books” and authors who cater to tropes I definitely see both sides!

Caveat: I don't have tiktok. I don't spend a lot of time on bookstagram either. So while I'm vaguely aware of the discourse, assume I spend most of my time blissfully unaware of everything, under my rock, writing my own little things.

Spicy books:

As with everything, there is nuance to be had. I don't think there is anything wrong with spicy books. There is clearly an audience for them and it's great to have books that recognise this desire! Western society can be weirdly puritan about sex and anything that challenges that get points from me. I've enjoyed the spicy scenes myself when they happen to miraculously meet the very specific vibes I personally like.

However, I also don't think every book needs to or should be pressured to be spicy and I personally get annoyed when I feel like spice replaces adequate plot or character development (which is something I've come across a few times in the last few years). I don't say this in a 'every sex scene must only be there to develop plot/character' way! I say this in a, oh my god, why has the plot stopped for sex in every chapter instead way. In a 'you guys used to have interesting conversations! why are you doing this to me!?' way.

But, you know. I'm not typically the target audience for sex scenes. So I'd just not read another book by an author who did that and let other people enjoy it, if that's what they're looking for. I still feel that there are still plenty of other books in the world I can read.

Tropes:

Tropes have and always will be a tool in writing. It's not new that writers are using them, but I think it's just a trend at the moment to be particularly upfront about them (especially in the romance genre tbh). Specifically, I think this is a marketing trend not a writing trend.

(Does trad publishing like books that are easy to market? Obviously. It's a business.)

I don't inherently mind this, because book marketing is really hard and realistically a lot of people don't stop to engage with original content or long descriptions about original content. Especially not on social media. Tropes are an excellent shorthand for conveying information/vibes, and then people can get more information and decide for themselves if they want to engage with the story.

(In a way, to me this is like when people add 'it's queer!' when they make me a recommendation. Does it make me more likely to go and look at the thing? Yes. Is it the deciding factor on if I actually read/watch/like it. Nope. It's just a quick flag for me to consider it and make my own decision.)

Maybe there are people who are specifically just writing tropes without much more to it...but I haven't really seen it in the books I personally read. At least not any more than the usual.

Some great books I've read this year so far:

The Luminous Dead By Caitlin Starling

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield

Rolling in the Deep by Mira Grant

(They are all horror to some degree...I've been on a kick.)

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barbwritesstuff · 2 days

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with regards to why chris is so unexpectedly popular, I've actually spent a lot of time thinking about their appeal to me specifically because they're not at all the kind of love interest I usually go for in interactive fiction, as both a character with a preexisting relationship with the MC and a "normal person" who doesn't have a personal stake in the main plot.

It mainly comes down to two things: the built in drama and catharsis of the scenario - in act one, the sense of being SO WRONGED and MISUNDERSTOOD, if only they knew what the MC has been going through, they would be so so sorry, etc. To me, it's a strong hook for their romance. Later, they are in a special position as the only LI to have known and loved the MC before they became a vampire, that they fall in love with them again is like. crazy. it drives me crazy. I'm the thing that puppets your dead lover's corpse - can you love me? if I travelled so far from you for so long that i lost myself, my very soul, would you know me? My circumstances have changed, I've had to compromise my ethics, I am dangerous to know, will you permit me to parent your our child? I am not what I was, take me as I am. god. I'm unwell.

number two is the main thing, and it's your wonderful ability to write characters who are both deeply, humanly flawed while remaining sympathetic and, crucially, interesting (Roe is my fave example of this in Blood Moon). IMO a common trap for love interests that have a history with the MC is for them to either be angels or the worst people on earth, in order to justify either the breakup or a desire to get back together. they also tend to lack development in comparison to the rest of the cast. But Chris is so immediately reasonable and intelligent, even though they are not at their best in the wake of the breakup and seen through the MC's biased and hurt POV. this impression only increases as you get to know them, and every conversation and encounter with them is revealing. Their strong boundaries, their love for their child and ability as a parent, the fact that their new partner kinda sucks tbh. they way they hold the mc accountable despite what you might call an imperfect understanding of the situation, lol. The full picture of them is so worthy of respect and affection and honesty.

Anyways. apologies for the love letter <3.

Never apologise for this. I love this. I am obsessed with this. I'm begging for more of this. I love it when people dive deep into my stories and characters. Chris was never meant to be a 'fully fledged' RO, but comments like this might just change that.

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vaguesxrrow · 3 days

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can u plsss write one about charles with an american reader? like the inspo is the olivia rodrigo song so american lol. like maybe him making fun of her accent and her doing the and back and like the differences between the two cultures?

ACTUALLY INSANEEE bc right before seeing this i was singing that song in my head (i dont listen to olivia but i probably should tbh). alsoo i wasn't sure if you wanted a fic or hcs, so i kind of made a 2 in 1. hope you dont mind! xx

a/n: im not american nor british and ive never been to the usa or the uk... so excuse any inaccuracies pleaseee

tags: g!n reader, american!reader, alive!reader

you shivered and exhaled sharply, your breath misting out in front of you. the moment you stepped outside, you knew you should have piled on more layers, but edwin had been eager in whisking everyone out the door to carry out an investigation for your current case.

you burrowed closer to charles. obviously, he couldn't provide any real body heat, but being near him was a boost in morale to keep going despite the temperature.

"alright?" he asked, putting an arm across your shoulders.

"i should've put on more layers," you grumbled.

charles laughed as he kissed the top of your head. "you can have my jacket."

shaking your head, you declined. "it's fine, it's not that cold. and besides, i wouldn't want to strip you of your british glory and your british coat."

charles snorted. "so it's my british glory, now? who was the one making fun of my accent literally just yesterday?"

"litch-rally," you parroted, grinning. "why is it that all your t's turn into ch's?"

"hey, you're one to talk - what is it you were ordering at the restaurant yesterday? a glass of wa-der, was it?"

"bite me, charles."

he raised his jacket up and engulfed you with it in a bear hug. you shrieked with laughter and wriggled in his hold, but didn't protest when he demanded you hold your arms out so he could put the jacket on you.

"what are you, a soccer player? i thought i was your [boy/girlfriend/partner], not your competition," you teased.

"soccer?" he mocked, outraged. "soccer? it's football, mate."

"mate?" you scoffed incredulously, although you were smiling. "way to friendzone me after months of dating."

"oh, come on, you know you could never get rid of me." charles pulled you in again, this time by your hand. "and for the record, you look cute wearing my clothes."

a few beats of silence, in which you two looked at each other with similar expressions of fondness and exasperation.

"yeah, okay, now get away from me, you victorian fossil." you shoved him playfully, and sprinted away to catch up with the other three. niko waved you over, giggling at charles, who was jogging to keep up.

"victorian fossil? i grew up in the 80s!" he exclaimed. "you know this!"

⌦ ---

- you do know very well that charles grew up in the 80s - you frequently ask him what it was like back then, because naturally, you'd take an interest in your boyfriend's life

- however, charles loves how you're genuinely interested, and get how watching times change can feel a bit lonely for him sometimes

- you're a great listener when it comes to this (which you think you should be greatly accredited for; charles' good looks can be very distracting at times)

- imagine: you and charles in your room as he looks around, inspecting the decor you have on display as he rambles about life in the 80s

- he tells you about a huge movie premiere he went to:

- charles: "get this, right - a ridiculously long line outside the movie theatre. the weather is absolutely miserable, and so are the people. no one's talking at all. i think everyone was just hungry - i saw this lady have tea delivered.

- you: 'i keep forgetting you have stuff like tea times. and did everyone really have the patience to wait for that long, in silence?'

- charles, with a fake american accent: yeah, dude. in silence.

- you throw a pillow at him.

- you also like telling hilariously bad jokes relating to his accent

- you: psst. charles.

- he turns towards you, already expecting another jab at his british-ness

- you: what day do british people eat the most?

- charles, in a deadpan: what day.

- you: chewsday, innit-

- he yells 'NOPE' and walks through the wall, leaving you to wheeze-laugh on your own

#charles rowland x reader #charles rowland x you #charles rowland/you #charles rowland/reader #charles rowland #dead boy detectives headcanons #dead boy detectives x reader #dead boy detectives fic #dbd #dead boy detectives

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atthebell · 2 days

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do you have any recommendations/resources to learn spanish?? i've been using busuu for about 104 days now, imo opinion it's actually pretty fun and i like it but i think my main problem with it is that it goes too fast?? it's hard to explain. it's also started to feel kinda repetitive to me. i still love busuu and i'm going to continue with my course, but it'd be nice to also have something else. like, preferably not an app, maybe a textbook or a website or something :D i don't really WHERE to find resources for language learning, despite being bilingual, i never really had to look on the internet to learn the languages i speak now, i picked it up from the people around me you know?

i've also been ''using'' duolingo but tbh, i really hate it. it feels boring to me, everyday it's ''ok what sentence am i going to be forced to write for the 40th time today?'' the single 'square' has 5 lessons and a 'unit' has around 10-8 of those squares and to finish a 'unit' you have to do about 50-45 of those lessons, which is shit because a 'unit' is only going to teach about 3 sentence structures and if you're lucky maybe 5. it's so shit, those greedy fuckers basically made it unusable. i've been using for about 140 days now, every single day i take at least one lesson, and it STILL has not taught me a SINGLE spanish tense. btw, i even had an entire phase where i would finish UNITS in about an hour and a half (1 min or less for every lesson) and still not a single ''pretérito Indefinido'' actual pain 🫠🫠 one day ll delete that app, one day (i guess that's why i like busuu in the first place, it actually teaches you these tenses and even some slang while duolingo makes you write ''papá, quiero visitar a nuestra abuela'' for the 700th time this week)

i want to watch vods and stuff, but tbh, i feel way too embarrassed? like, i don't know enough spanish to really understand them and even when they say basic sentences that i understand, i still have to listen to it multiple times and slow down the clip for me to really get it. the thing with spanish is that i'll understand the meaning of the words being said but i need to take a second or so to really comprehend what they mean together you know? i don't want to have to watch the stream slowed down because that would definitely make me feel stupid 😭 maybe when i have better spanish i'll start watching vods. although i do listen to spanish songs sometimes, it's fun :D

first thing: you don't have to feel embarrassed about needing time to process things/needing to listen to things slowed down. language learning is difficult and there are a lot of obstacles for many people; this is something i do understand and want to stress that i get that it's hard. you are not a bad person or an idiot or whatever for having a hard time understanding things-- you are still learning, and besides that, sometimes hearing things isn't someone's strong suit (it absolutely did not use to be mine, but i've practiced a lot and gotten much better at it. i'm still much much better at reading text in other languages, but it is something you can always improve on). if you need to take extra time to watch things, that is not a personal fault of yours nor does it make you stupid. everyone has different skill sets, and you can always practice to get better.

second thing: my own criticisms of both busuu and duolingo, along with their strengths. duolingo first, because i've used it since like. idk like 2016? not consistently but i've used it far more over the years and i'm very familiar with various changes they've made and the esp, ptbr, and french courses. busuu ive only been using for a few months

to get it out of the way, the recent change to laying off translators and using more AI in lessons. this sucks, obviously, for a myriad of reasons. machine translation cannot match with human translation, and frankly never will be able to. there are vast amounts of nuance and cultural context necessary for translation, along with the fact that an AI led course does not actually hit on all the things someone needs, particularly on a basics/foundational level. and from an ethical standpoint, laying off a ton of human translators because you think you can replace them with inaccurate machine translation sucks and is why so many people have dropped duolingo, myself included.

duolingo also has limitations in terms of format-- it gamifies language learning, which can make it feel more accessible to people and makes people want to open it and practice every day. however, most people use duolingo to do one lesson once a day and that's it. they're not getting in practice from lessons previously completed, they're not drilling vocab or conjugations, they're not actually maintaining or even remembering what they've already learned. obviously there are people (like myself, when i still used the app) who practice far more than that and continue to drill previous lessons, but that's not the majority, and it's not incentivized by the app. the paywalling of completing certain lessons and being able to drill error words also sucks for this reason. basically duolingo is not an ideal setup for actually maintaining knowledge once you go through it the first time and also the way the courses are laid out just. does not, imo, actually make sense. they rarely actually explain what they're trying to teach you and they don't get into enough detail on most concepts. and there is no incentive to review, which is hugely important. not an ideal situation for language learning, especially on its own.

my pros for duolingo: it gets you to practice daily. this is honestly what i use busuu for at this point-- when i get a notif for it, i open it up and flick through a lesson, but i also pull out a textbook or two to look at things there and practice stuff. if whipping out duolingo every day helps you practice a language, that is, at bare minimum, something. preferably you should be studying for at least 15min if not up to an hour or more of a language a day in order to really pick things up and maintain them; you can absolutely use duolingo or busuu for that (busuu i think is far less well formatted and oftentimes the lessons are very specific vocab, at least in the later courses).

for busuu, my issues are like. it's a poorly made imitation of duolingo, aside from a few things. the community aspect is something i REALLY like-- being able to send an exercise to a native speaker and get feedback on what to work on is great, especially with how it's a short answer question that lets you form your own sentences and try out vocab in context. that's a wonderful feature, and i really think it gets at something duolingo is completely missing.

but yeah like i said in terms of the lessons, busuu has very strange ways of teaching things. firstly, it's usually super specific topics and vocab that aren't paired with anything conceptually that helps you progress. usually in a language course, it's best to pair a concept you're working on with either relevant vocab or something that can be used to talk about similar subjects/in similar ways (for instance, subjunctive with food/restaurant vocab, so that you can build sentences both with the new vocab and using the new verbal form in ways that make sense, i.e. "I'll have whatever she's having, If I were to order the pasta, I would get a salad too," "If I were richer, I would always order filet mignon" (side note subjunctive is very difficult for eng speakers so idk if these examples actually make sense 😭))

also busuu will repeatedly teach me something phrased one way or with a certain word and then mark me wrong and insist i use a completely different word/phrase. i cannot figure out why it keeps doing this it's very frustrating. and it has recently been teaching me some european portuguese which is not what the course is supposed to be so i'm just baffled by what's going on there.

another positive for busuu, at least in contrast to duolingo, is it teaches you the vocab and phrases before quizzing you on them, which duolingo does not do. this is like a positive and also an "eh, idk" because i get why duolingo does that-- it's trying to throw you into using surrounding context to figure out what a word means, and that's a very good way to practice, but i think it doesn't necessarily achieve it well and sometimes will just spring random words on you without enough context for you to know what it's referring to without just clicking on the word anyway.

also neither app are good at teaching you verb conjugation or tenses which is really unfortunate for spanish and portuguese in particular, as they're both languages where verbs are really really key AND where understanding tenses and their names are important, particularly for native eng speakers who never got taught tense names or like. any terminology for languages in english 🙃

also here is a thing i wrote up complaining about duolingo & verbs ages ago: Duolingo does not teach you things explicitly. It expects you to pick them up in a semi-immersive style, which works okay most of the time for most people but for many people makes actually learning and understanding parts of a language very difficult. For instance, it won't teach you the exact difference in usage between ser and estar, in Spanish or Portuguese. This difference is something I spent weeks on in Spanish class in high school and continued to review the rest of my time learning Spanish in an academic setting-- it is a key element of two of the most important words in the language. Duolingo also doesn't explain stem changes or irregular verbs and their typical endings-- it simply expects you to pick these up and memorize them through sentence usage. Basically it's very obvious Duolingo was created by english speakers who were never taught key elements of their own language (this is not a dig on their personal fault; i was also never taught any of this shit about english) and don't know how to go about teaching a language, and the limited format doesn't help.

third thing, finally getting to what you actually asked: there are a lot of resources for learning spanish online! i'm not as familiar with them as i'd like, as i learned spanish in an academic setting, but i'll do my best to list some things out and anyone else can feel free to add on. i've been meaning to make a language learning advice post for literally ages and i guess this is going to become it lmao.

here is a video explaining how to make duolingo work for you along with other resources: A Linguist explains how to make duolingo actually work (tl;dr pair duolingo with conversation partners, textbook work, listening to music, watching movies, etc. etc.)

i've tagged this with my language learning tag, which has a bunch of resources including some specifically for learning spanish.

tumblr user salvador bonaparte has a drive of free textbooks you can check out here, including a ton of spanish resources. i also recommend looking around the internet/specifically linguistics tumblr to find more resources as well as looking at used bookstores/amazon/etc. for spanish textbooks to use, as that will provide a more thorough foundation along with other programs/types of learning.

i've never used babbel or any other online program like it, but spanish tends to be one of the more resource-heavy languages because it's so widely spoken, so typically spanish programs on various apps/sites are REALLY thorough (duolingo's spanish program is by far their best course, with a ton more resources than most other programs. you can go up to the equivalent of at least c2 on there i believe, versus many other languages where they don't even list the CEFR levels)

finally, the not-so-online answer: if you're in college/have a nearby community/junior college, consider taking spanish classes there! this option probably costs the most out of any others, but i genuinely think an academic setting is the a great way to learn a language for many people. if you're not one of them, that is totally fine, but an actual spanish course at a college is likely to be the most thorough way to learn the language. also many CCs/JCs offer spanish classes online, so if you can't drive or for whatever reason can't go to in-person courses, you'll likely still have options.

this is everything i can think of right now but i also want to add once again that learning a language is difficult!!! i know that, and i know that i complain a lot about monolinguals, but i am specifically complaining about people who refuse to engage respectfully with languages that are not their own and dismiss anything they don't understand as being stupid/not worth their time/culturally worthless. i am not complaining about people like you, who are trying really hard to engage with non-english content AND are trying really hard to learn another language.

i also think learning languages is one of the most incredible experiences there are and that expanding the kinds of cultural and social boundaries that you engage with is a really important facet of humanity that i wish more people would participate in. i get riled up because this is something i'm really truly passionate about, not because i think anyone is stupid or whatever for not learning. i want people to just try it and give it a chance, even if it's hard for them, and i'm glad that you are trying, anon. <333

#asks #anons #language learning #i think i woke up to this and was like thats a huge wall of text let me get to that when im not barely awake #hope this all makes sense anon!!!#and there are some good textbooks in that drive if you want to check them out!!#i also recommend finding a yt channel that does spanish learning along with other stuff #similar to like. decoding with andrew who i use for pronunciation help with portuguese #and listen to a lot of music in spanish!!!! that genuinely is HUGE for picking up on listening skills

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zvezdacito · 2 days

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Also tbh idk why people act like Malleyuu fans are the main culprits in twst illiteracy/mischaracterizing Malleus and making up 638272 scenarios to be mad at when a single individual says something goofy in relation to Malleyuu (that or just taking random lighthearted yume jokes way too seriously😭)

From what I've seen people who mess Malleus up are the people who never liked his character all that much to begin with or the ones that only have a minimal/casual knowledge of Malleus/twst in general because they're more into other interests

Only randomly bringing it up but idk it's lowkey annoying to see people keep dragging a conversation (that was already from weeks ago💀) regarding that one lighthearted joke about Malleus OBing because of Yuu from a tiktok user who literally admitted in the same post to still be at Book 4😭 It's not like there is a shortage of people who are actually caught up with the story who know Lilia is the primary reason for his OB and that he has an important attachment to him, Lilia stuff like that is literally what the fandom as a whole has been focusing on for the past year (including ppl who like malleyuu)

I get some people just never liked the pair to begin with because they favor other Yuu or Malleus ships hence this reaction but atp save your energy for the people who think "Malleus is faking his social cluelessness because he's pure evil" or being lowkey victim blamey about how his circumstances affected his personality and mindset. Or the people who sideline his entire character to just be a villainous plot device to highlight the development of some other character (usually Silver, Idia, Ace or Lilia but sometimes even Rollo??? ever since the start of Book 7.)

^ Like idk those seem like more heinous ways for him to be mischaracterized in and not a mildly corny yume joke😭 There are worse jokes regarding Malleus like the ship jokes of him with Lilia💀 or the "Rollo was right all along" jokes

#sorry for ranting and hating i gotta defend my siblings /j #Some of us are cringe fr but i cannot tolerate seeing talk about it from ppl i know never liked it to begin with and are just using this as #-objective justification lmao #This m4lleyuu shit get serious. im out

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planetkiimchi · 3 days

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the light returns | d.sc

featuring: guard!winwin x royalty!reader

word count: 1391 words

taglist: @slytherinshua ,, @welcometomyoasis

author's note: IM SORRY IT’S TAKING SO LONG 😭 i did not expect there to be so many things i had to wrap up!! tbh this ending is gonna be longer than the climax cuz the resolution is 🫠🫠 a lot… so first have some fluff before we get back into all the angst 💋

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You swept your cloak behind you, taking long strides across the courtroom floor. You took a seat, and Sicheng bowed his head.

“Your Majesty.” You held up a hand before he could take a seat, pointing to a spot just in front of you.

“Stand there.” A flash of confusion passed over his face, and you added softly, “We are always being watched.”

He nodded imperceptibly. “Everything is in order. I’ve checked all the documents again, and nothing is missing. It should all go as planned.” You raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate your vote of confidence. But if you really think my brother will give in without putting up one hell of a fight, then you do not know him at all.”

Sicheng stiffened. “Then why would we go to such lengths to—”

The amusement left you as soon as it had arrived, and your face relaxed into a neutral expression. “To fail to plan is to plan to fail.” Before Sicheng could say another word, you turned your gaze away from him, effectively dismissing him. “The trial is about to begin.”

Sicheng took his cue, kneeling once at your feet before moving to stand beside you.

You’d spent weeks preparing for this rushed trial, anxious to deal with your brother before he had a chance to escape again, keeping awake at night trying to sift through the archives in search of somebody, some witness or camera record or audio record that would be able to incriminate your brother so thoroughly he would never see the light of day again.

“My love, it’s late. Shall we go to bed?”

You shook your head feverishly, fingers trembling with exhaustion as you struggled to read just a few more lines of the document you were currently perusing. The candlelight cast shadows on the black text, blurring the words on the paper through your vision, impaired by the lighting.

“At least turn on the lights.” Sicheng moved, hand hovering over the light switch when he felt a tugging in his head preventing him from pressing the button.

“Too bright,” you said. “The candle will suffice.”

Sicheng sighed, dismissing your hold over his motion, shaking his hand to loosen it before walking over to you, one hand resting around your upper arm. It was always in quiet, stolen moments like these that he would dare to show his affection, the only time he could tell you he loved you in actions greater than a shared glance or the widening of his concerned eyes.

“We are in the era of technology. Why are you manually sifting through these papers? Surely this system of yours isn’t fully optimised.”

“Do you think my brother would have evaded the law for so long if it had been in the system? I hope, for your sake, that you do not think our judicial system is that flawed. He must have found a way to do it secretly, but my parents’ movements were well kept track of. There must be something that he’s missed, and the only way to find it is to sift through this manually.”

Sicheng placed a kiss on the crown of your head. “I won’t argue with you.”

Still, whilst he went to sit down opposite you, you felt something pushing against the backs of your knees, and found that a chair had rolled its way to your feet, and you sank into the cushioned piece of furniture without protest.

The papers in front of you rustled, as if a breeze was blowing through them, and as you turned to check the windows—there weren’t any in that room, as far as you remembered—you heard them rustle further.

You turned back, greeted with the sight of the document you had been studying earlier. Only now, it was hovering in the air, while a disinterested Sicheng glanced at his fingernails. Seemingly satisfied with them, he picked up a separate document and began to read.

Your tired expression relaxed, the stressed wrinkles between your eyebrows dissipating as you felt the tension leave your body. A small smile lifted the corners of your lips, and a breath escaped your lips. Leaning your head on your hand, elbow propped up against the table, you continued to read.

The first time, you reached out to flip the page.

The second time, you leaned forward, and the page flipped itself.

The third time, you simply said, “Next.” By the fourth and fifth times, all you had to do was nod your head, and Sicheng would help you flip the page.

Meanwhile, Sicheng was sorting through the rest of the documents. He might seem nonchalant about the whole thing, but he could see how serious you were about it. He might not understand the importance of your brother’s arrest in the grand scheme of things, but he could see its significance to you, and that was enough for him to be in, to help you to the end.

Given how adamant you were on doing this manually, he decided that you at least needed a categorisation system, so while you read the contents of each document, he skimmed through the contents page and the titles on each set of papers.

Nicking a set of sticky notes and a pen from atop the desk, he began labelling each of them, colour coding documents on similar events or that came from the 6-month period. In between flipping your pages, he stacked up the documents with sticky notes of the same colour, slowly getting through the pile on the wooden table.

Between these two tasks, his fingers and his mind were both kept busy, and he didn’t notice how many hours had passed until he noticed that your drooping eyes had finally succumbed to the temptation and fallen shut, and you were slumped on the table, supported by your hand in an awkward position, wrist bent at an angle he didn’t think wrists should be able to bend at.

Sicheng glanced at the watch on your wrist. It was technically well into the morning now, and the sun would be rising in just a couple of hours. There were almost no more loose pieces of paper lying around anymore, since he’d managed to organise all of them, using staples and paper clips to hold them together.

Looking at the neat piles of unread documents, then again at the small pile that you’d gotten through, comments scribbled across multiple post-it notes in your harried script, Sicheng ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and sighed. This was going to take more than just one all-nighter.

And, knowing you, you’d refuse to rest between them.

Sicheng gently took your hand, rearranging you into a more comfortable posture for sleeping. He took the cushion he’d been resting his elbows on the whole night long, propping it under your head to support your neck, removing your hands from their prison, and felt the ice-cold chill of your fingertips.

He summoned a blanket from a forgotten corner of the study room, dusting it off before draping it over you. He rested your hands in your lap to keep them covered and warm, before getting up to leave.

It wouldn’t be good to be caught here with you.

The rest of the castle was already waking up, so Sicheng got to his feet and brushed a hand through his hair to tame it. He grabbed his coat from the stand by the door, casting his reflection one last glance, peering closely to see how bad the circles under his eyes were—could be worse, he thought—before leaning to press an ear against the oaken door to listen for passing footsteps.

Convinced that the hallway was empty, he cautiously opened the door, careful not to wake you up as he left. He took great care to walk slowly, with purpose, so no one could hear how loudly and quickly his heart was beating at this risky move.

He made his way back to his quarters to wash up and prepare for the day. You could coop yourself up inside to do your digging if you wanted to, but his job would still go on.

When you awoke later, you would find a still-hot mug of ginger tea on your table—good for drinking on an empty stomach—and you would know that Sicheng had sent it for you.

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theaceofshovels · 1 day

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Hey hey hey I absolutely *love* your pix design. The cord hair thing is so cool can I like. Steal that pretty please /lh /nf

Yes yes yes of course!! I do not own the concept, in fact i have seen several other Pixal designs that use the same idea! Tbh I was mainly inspired by some fan designs of Hera from Wolf 359 (amazing audio drama, first piece of media to ever make me cry)

I’ve also been thinking about the idea that she is able to move about her hair cords medusa style. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about redoing my designs to make Zane look more human and Pix more robotic. Might be a while tho, as you might be able to tell, upcoming exams have caused all drawing to cease. Got study leave soon so drawing might pick up again hopefully.

#art #digital art #character design #fanart #illustration #ninjago #lego #lego ninjago #ninjago pixal #pixal ninjago #pixal borg #ninjago fanart #ninjago art #ninjago design #taos art #taos asks #taos ninjago

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cowgirleddiediaz · 1 day

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I'm new to the 911 fandom despite loving the show for years. The reason I avoided the fandom for so long because all I heard about it was how toxic it can get. Luckily I'm only active on 911blr instead of being in other hellsites for content so I haven't directly interacted with any of the chaos myself. It's just really insane behavior to witness. I think someone should do a study on it, maybe write a book asdfghjkl. Could make millions.

From the Sort Of A Vent Post Anon

lmfao kinda same tbh. I’ve dipped in and out over the years and before now I wouldn’t have said toxic (at least on tumblr) more like intense.

there’s always been an element of the fandom that don’t just ship b*ddie but who really believe it’s (and to an extent always has been) happening. I’d see ppl defend against queerbait allegations because “no b*ddie isn’t like those other ships, they’re obviously actually doing it!” which always had me a bit like 🤨? can you cite your sources?

ironically, bi buck seems to be proving the opposite, because surely if b*ddie was the plan then this would be the moment. I think the popularity of bucktommy has shown a lot of diehard b*ddie stans that not only was their certainty misplaced, but not everyone was in the same boat as them.

maybe unpopular opinion but this is why fandom etiquette can be a bit of a double edged sword, ppl don’t want to yuk anyone’s yam so even if something raises an eyebrow they let it slide for the sake of keeping things positive/avoiding drama. which is fine but it means wonky/ill informed (but not necessarily harmful or malicious) takes can fester in little bubbles without challenge to the point everyone assumes everyone else agrees with them…until there’s a reason not to.

yeah we can “agree to disagree” a lot of the time, but sometimes ppl are just wrong, and I don’t think fandom culture has ever really found a way to balance those things.

#911 abc #bucktommy #911 discourse #dia answers stuff

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panelshowsource · 1 day

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rather than who you would like to see on the next taskmaster series, who do you think will be on it? like just your predictions or any inklings you may have!

anon if you're still around then you'll know i really took my time with this hahaha so sorry! i hope anyone reading this takes it as just a bit of fun and nbd, who knows who we'll get or who alex & the network have in mind! i'm answering thoughtfully (bc i always feel guilty not to 😩 so sorry this is long lol) but it's really just fun!!

i will say, of the more recent-ish series, i did get a few right!!! krishnan guru-murthy, nicola coughlan, alan davies, judi love, sue perkins, john robins, and joanne mcnally were people i just knew would eventually be on if the show could get their schedules right, and i was also certain sarah millican and dara ó briain would be asked �� though not necessarily that they'd actually agree. when you have a level of seniority and esteem, the "it's such a great opportunity" aspect of the show isn't such a draw 😅 for some reason i feel SO PROUD about guessing nicola! i was just WAITING and wish sooooo much she had done a full series 😭😭😭 (how fun would saoirse-monica jackson be too!)

anyways, as for people who haven't been on yet — and this isn't to say i want them all to be, just that i think it's likeliest they have been asked or will be asked; i talked about who i want to see a little while ago here — it's important to consider the casting 'roles' the network has in mind when working with the producers to form a series, so i will keep that in mind too!

established comedian, typically a straight white man over 40: bill bailey, vic reeves, harry hill, geoff norcott, kevin bridges, adam buxton, ade edmondson (god i feel bad for not saying ed byrne but why do i feel like he's not gonna make it in the next few series? i'm on the fence with nick helm — unless he's friends with alex, then his chances go up significantly imo — and tom allen for some reason, and i feel like john bishop is almost too much of an ask?)

fresh talent comedian, typically a man under 40: rhys james, huge davies, ahir shah, darren harriott would be my top guesses but tbh any of the semi-recent edinburgh comedy award finalists are good bets as a majority of the winners from the last ~10 years have been on the series + throwing out tom rosenthal (i know he's not fresh fresh and also mostly an actor)...and, like, jazz emu?...just because if taskmaster know how much its audience adores weird little white twinks then they'll cast them

female or non-binary comedian: 100% sarah keyworth + harriet kemsley, maisie adam, jess fostekew, suzi ruffell. i've shifted away from betting on cariad lloyd and catherine bohart for some reason... (joanne was my no.1 lady bet for the last like 4 series hahaha)

non-comedian: this is very, very hard to predict because between comedy actors, non-comedy actors, tv presenters, news people, reality & social media stars... the potential predictions are just so endless! logically, the most likely is an established actor with a lot of comedy connections (think sally phillips, lolly adefope, liza tarbuck, sian gibson, daisy may cooper, susan wokoma; this category is where tm gets quite a few of its female contestants): matt holness, kevin eldon, amanda abbington, tom davis, sharon horgan, kathy burke, georgia tennant (also friends w alex?), su pollard, tom basden, apparently anyone from the cast of ghosts, and so on and so on and so on... + i'll also throw out maggie aderin-pocock as a serious contender + i really feel like one of the spice girls will be on new years treat

friend of alex: john robins was the prediction for the past few series, so just worth keeping in mind other people in this circle include elis james, matthew crosby, tom neenan, and so on

freebie answers because alex/greg have mentioned them before: jack dee, lorraine kelly, joanna lumley (i want jennifer saunders SO BAD give us an epic series w both ade and jen pleaseeee tm gods!!!!)

complete wild card bets that are either my instincts kicking in or my bias taking over: limmy, adam buxton, paddy mcguinness, diane morgan, daniel sloss, jess hynes, spencer jones??, alasdair beckett-king + if suzy izzard wasn't doing a big nyc show i'd say that's a good guess if only bc you know greg & alex grew up big fans

did i mention too many people?? if i had to put my money behind a single person it would be either ahir shah or sarah keyworth

these are almost all of my fr big heavy hitters when it comes to placing bets! but there are of course so many people i didn't name who i could totally see on either a main series or the ny treat — so many people just make sense and that's the beauty of taskmaster!!

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kaleidohscopic · 2 days

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IN THE DYING SUMMER SUN — BBH

PAIRING: baekhyun x female reader SUMMARY: a weekend up at the beach house might just be enough to make you crack and come clean about your little (big, fat) crush. alternatively, park chanyeol is possibly the worst wingman ever. GENRE: friends to lovers! au, crush! baekhyun, romance, fluff, a pinch of angst, pining, humour WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension!!, slightly suggestive, reader and baekhyun are both kind of clueless tbh WORD COUNT: 9.4k NOTE: happy birthday baekhyun!! thought it would be fitting to start off this blog with a fic for bbh on his birthday. this was supposed to be a 4-5k piece of fluff but somehow it ended up being double that and a lot more serious than i originally intended (oops?). kinda nervy posting such a long fic for the first time ever so feedback is most certainly welcome and i hope you enjoy!

“You definitely rigged this.”

Chanyeol only rewarded you with a shit-eating grin.

The scrap of paper couldn’t weigh more than a few grams, but in your hands, they felt like the barbell plates at the gym that he could never leave alone. Especially since a certain someone was also holding another scrap of paper with ‘ground floor twin room’ hastily scrawled across it.

You shook your head vehemently, fixing the tall boy with a dagger-like stare that he seemed completely unfazed by. “I demand a redraw.”

“Which is not going to happen,” was his gleeful response. “We all agreed — no take-backs before picking.” The hat that you had all drawn out of, now empty, was tossed on the coffee table as everyone else began to move their bags into their freshly chosen rooms. Somewhere down the hallway, Jongin tripped over the wheels of his suitcase, his pained groan and Kyungsoo’s laughter bouncing against the walls of the AirBnb.

“Besides,” Chanyeol continued, hand coming up to ruffle your hair, “if I had actually rigged it, you should be thanking me. I’d be doing you a favour.” He gestured towards Baekhyun, who was busying himself with packing his hoodie back into his duffle bag, hopefully oblivious to the fact that the two of you were conspiring about him less than three metres away.

“Yeah, say it any louder, why don’t you. And no, that wasn’t an invitation,” you warned, catching the wicked glint in Chanyeol’s eyes. He opened his mouth, as if to make good on your request and let the whole house know, only to choke back a groan at the elbow you shoved into his side. Behave, said the glare that you shot at him. His replying smile was anything but reassuring, before he picked up his bag and headed upstairs.

That was what you got for getting a little too drunk at Jongdae’s housewarming get-together last month and accidentally slipping up about your big, fat, debilitating crush on Baekhyun after the third glass of pinot noir in one night. If it had been anyone else made aware of your juvenile secret, you would probably be feeling a little less uneasy — but it just had to be the one person who couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. Not to mention Park Chanyeol was a terrible wingman, having heard about the ridiculous escapades he put Jongdae through before he finally cuffed his girlfriend. Lucky for you, you were now getting to experience it first-hand.

“I can ask Jongin to swap, if you really don’t want to room with me,” came a soft voice from your right. Baekhyun regarded you with an expectant, if somewhat hesitant expression.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, trying your best to mask the panic that was fighting its way into your voice. It would be just your luck, that he would think your reluctance to share a sleeping space with him was because you didn’t like him enough, and not that you liked him a little too much. The slight furrow in his brow seemed to melt away with your words. “I just wanted the big room with the queen bed, but somehow Chanyeol got it. I seriously think he did something to these,” you said, waving your slip of paper that matched the one he was holding.

Come to think of it, you and Baekhyun had also been the last ones to draw out of the hat, since Chanyeol had insisted on going counter-clockwise around the dining table. How he managed to game the room allocations was beyond you, but you were now almost certain that he did.

“It’s good that he’s by himself though. The snoring would drive anyone mad,” Baekhyun mused, and you had to chuckle in agreement.

“That time he passed out at my place after Saturday drinks…I genuinely thought I’d end up with a murder charge that night.” you said, chest squeezing at the way his eyes crinkled into crescent moons at your words. You busied yourself with your own bag, hoping he wouldn’t see the dumb smile on your face, and be able to tell how pleased you were to have teased a laugh out of him. Laughter was not something he usually withheld — he gave it freely, if not a little too generously — but it always did a funny thing to your heart when you were the cause of it.

“Definitely can’t have that. Pretty face like yours would not last a day in jail.” With one hand around his own duffle, he draped the free one around your shoulders, letting the warmth of his arm wrap around you as you headed down the corridor to the room you’d be sharing for the weekend.

Having a crush on Baekhyun was no big deal. Probably even normal, if his college days were anything to go by. But what made it so debilitating was things like this — the little comments he’d throw around that could easily be passed off as just friendly flirting if you were so inclined, though you sometimes let yourself imagine his intentions came more from the flirting than the friendly part. He was a generally touchy person too, never missing a chance to pat Kyungsoo’s ass when the opportunity arose, but sometimes the brush of his fingers against the inside of your wrist felt a little too affectionate for two people united solely through friendship, even if you were the only one who internally crossed that line a while ago. It was things like this that made you question, every once in a while, if your feelings were as one-sided as you believed. Most of the time though, you chalked it up to his disposition, his easy-going magnetism, and concluded that whatever signals you thought he was sending were merely due to your overactive imagination running wild with hopes that he felt the same way.

“Dibs left,” he said, plopping down on the twin bed closer to the window. His arms raised above his head in a long, yawning stretch, revealing a thin strip of skin at the waistband of his jeans. Just the sight of it was enough to control your blood, sending a rush of it to your face, and you internally cursed yourself for being so weak to such a small thing. It was obvious you had been alone for way too long. He was too comfortable to notice the flush on your cheeks, eyes shut and enjoying the tension leaving his body after the long drive up.

You sat yourself down carefully on the remaining bed, noting the gap between the two mattresses. Whether you wanted to push them together or against opposite walls of the room, you couldn’t be sure. It was hard to form coherent thoughts when he turned to you with a boyish playfulness that curled the corner of his mouth upwards.

“You’re not going to sleepwalk your way into my bed, are you?” he asked, chin in his hand, a teasing glint in his eyes. You tried hard to catch yourself from choking on your own saliva.

“I’ve been known to kick in my sleep,” was your reply, voice much more nonchalant than you thought you were capable of, given that he had just planted the seed of the two of you sharing a twin mattress that was definitely not big enough to lie down on without touching in at least three different places. The glint in his eyes faded immediately, giving way to thinly-veiled concern at the threat underlying your words.

“I was kidding,” you clarified when he sat up and started to back away from you. “At least, I haven’t done that for fifteen or so years. But you never know, it might come back again tonight, when you’ve finally fallen asleep, and then BAM! Foot to the face. You better sleep with your eyes open, Byun Baekhyun,” you warned, giggling at the realisation dawning over his face before his pretty features settled into mock annoyance.

“You just think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He was on all fours now, making his way towards you with a wolfish grin. In no time, he had crawled over the gap between your two beds and suddenly his fingers were prodding at your ribs. It was a well-planned tickle attack, and one you had no chance of escaping from, since his legs had caged you in and the rest of him was pinning you down. You were helpless against the ambush of his fingers, succumbing to them with gasping giggles, punctuated by desperate pleas for him to stop. He showed no intention of letting up, fingers digging even deeper into your waist.

If you were going to die like this, you thought, at least you’d be dying while lying under him.

“When you two are done canoodling, we’re going to go set up on the beach,” came a voice from the doorway. Baekhyun’s merciless fingers paused, and the two of you looked back to see Chanyeol’s amused face at the foot of your bed, smirking like he knew some big secret that neither of you were privy to. God, you were seriously regretting that third glass at Jongdae’s new apartment last month.

Baekhyun turned back to you, your noses almost touching, and you could feel the air from his exhales fanning against the skin of your cheek. There was a mole just above the corner of his mouth that you don’t think you had ever noticed before. Warmth from his jean-clad legs radiated into your hips and meandered up and down your spine, and suddenly the late summer air around you was becoming sticky and heavier than usual.

As if just now noticing the proximity you were in, he slowly untangled himself from your limbs, making sure not to crush you in the process. You sat up, still breathless, having just calmed down enough for full inhales again, but so was he, you noted. Surely tickling wasn’t that exertive of an activity? Or maybe you’d put up a better fight than you had thought.

“Don’t forget your towels,” was the last thing Chanyeol said before he ducked out, yelling at Jongin to grab the beach umbrellas, not the rain ones. There were a few seconds just filled with the sounds of your slowing breathing.

“I’m going to go get changed,” Baekhyun said, turning around to dig through his bag for his swim shorts. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could hear the slight tremble in his voice that indicated he hadn’t quite recovered from whatever was afflicting him. “We’ll probably just be setting up the umbrellas, so no rush, just come down when you’re ready.” As he turned around to head towards the bathroom, he flashed you that familiar smile, the one that always resulted in one of your own to mirror his, and set you at ease again.

“And make sure you bring your sunscreen,” he added, before disappearing down the hallway. You watched him go, throwing yourself back onto the bed with a frustrated groan once you were sure he was out of earshot. Two whole days and nights in this tiny room, in the languid death of summer, with his body just an arm’s length away from yours — you had no idea how much of this you could stomach and emerge with your sanity intact.

This was shaping up to be the longest weekend ever.

The afternoon sun was unforgiving when you emerged from the house. Though you had thrown on a cover up before leaving, you could feel the heat tingling on the surface of your skin through the thin cotton. From the top of the bushy path leading down to the beach, you could already hear the tell-tale signs of a competition brewing between the boys, even if you couldn’t quite see them yet. A few steps down and you could make out their figures, managing to catch the view of Chanyeol flipping backwards off the jetty before plunging into the water, where the rest of them were bobbing around. Baekhyun’s voice floated above the others the way it always did when he was teasing, liltingly distinguishable, though perhaps that was only because you were now so attuned to it that other voices naturally started to sound more foreign.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when he went from Baekhyun, your friend who tended to get a little too rowdy after half a can of beer, to Baekhyun, your friend who made your heart pick up a little faster when you thought of him. One day his hiccuping laugh was teetering on the edge of obnoxiousness, and then all of a sudden it became endearing to hear the raw joy in his voice. If you knew exactly when the switch flipped, maybe you’d be able to retrace your steps and stop yourself from ever setting off down this path to end up where you were now, watching the sunlight glisten against his wet face with an overwhelming affection, wondering what it would be like to be the private audience of his radiant smile everyday.

You set your things down on the sand next to the pile of clothes and towels that were already there, recognising Chanyeol’s hat somewhere in the mix. The beach umbrella that Jongin had set up was already beginning to lurch towards one side, the brim rather close to the ground. Fixing it back in place and digging it into the sand a little deeper, you let out a fond laugh — some things, like the way Jongin used his hands like they weren’t his own, would stand the test of time.

You had hoped that your friendship with Baekhyun would be one of those things, but the more time you spent casting longing glances his way when he wasn’t looking, the more you weren’t sure if you could ever recover from his rejection if you ever did decide to be honest about your feelings towards him. So you did your best to bury them, content to enjoy his company in the way you were both familiar with, afraid that if they did surface, they’d taint your friendship with something unpleasant and irreversible. If you couldn’t own the sun, at least you could still revel in its warmth.

Satisfied with the position of your towel underneath the shade of the umbrella, you looked back at the water, returning Baekhyun’s sweeping wave with a small one of your own. It was just enough of a distraction for Chanyeol to turn around as well, and Baekhyun seized the opportunity to dunk him, gleefully howling as the taller boy’s head disappeared below the waves. Before Chanyeol could resurface and enact his retaliation, Baekhyun was already making his escape, swimming towards the shore with fearful determination. Chanyeol made to follow, but upon seeing you sitting on the beach with your eyes fixed on Baekhyun’s approaching figure, he thought better of it, turning back around to continue the diving evaluation as Jongin took his turn to leap off the jetty.

With an amused smile, you watched as Baekhyun hurried out of the ocean, wet hair flying in all directions and flicking droplets of seawater across the sand. The water trickled down the planes of his bare torso, and you tried to keep your eyes away from the firmness of his pec, or the flexing movements of his abdominals as he made his way over to you. One thing was for sure — the gym sessions with Chanyeol were paying off.

When he finally reached you, Baekhyun slumped onto your towel, ignoring your protests for him to stay away, and proceeded to soak you in the remaining water that was still clinging to his body. The skin of his stomach was cool against your calf, and he giggled delightfully at your attempts to push him off to avoid getting more water onto your clothes.

“Stop trying to fight it, you’re going to get wet when you go in anyway,” he said, finally rolling off you.

“I wasn’t planning on going in. I’m scared you’ll try to drown me,” you huffed, lightly flicking some sand onto his shoulder with your toe. He turned back around, chin cradled in his left hand, and flashed you a boyish smile.

“I would never do that,” he said, though the glint in his eyes was anything but convincing. “Besides, what are you going to do at the beach if you’re not getting in the water?”

You picked up the book nestled in between your shoes and waved it at him. “Read, of course.” He regarded the worn paperback with amused disbelief, eyebrows slightly raised. It was only when you flipped the book open to the paperclip you’d been using as a bookmark that he realised you were serious, and let out a scoff that was laced with something akin to fondness.

“You are such a cliche. Pretty girl reading at the beach? Unbelievable, seriously,” he said, before wriggling his head into your stomach, relishing in your shocked squeals as your cover up began to dampen again. His mischief had left a few wet patches on the fabric that were beginning to stick to your body in the uncomfortable fashion of late summer. You reached for the hem, pulling it off not without some struggle, and immediately felt the sun kissing against your bare shoulders. Though you were mostly covered by the shade from the umbrella, the last thing you wanted was a blistering sunburn where the straps of your tote bag usually rested, so you grabbed the sunscreen you had so diligently packed and began applying it on the parts of your skin that were exposed.

Baekhyun had gone uncharacteristically quiet. If you had been paying attention to him instead of so attentively rubbing the cream into the underside of your knee, perhaps you would have noticed the way his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than would have been polite. They followed the path your hands took, from the expanse of skin below your neck, across your stomach, and down the length of your legs.

“Do you want me to do your back?” he blurted, his voice a little more strained than usual. He was wearing an odd expression on his face, something you couldn’t quite place, but it was different from the usual playful one you were most well acquainted with. Nevertheless, you agreed, passing him the tube and turning around so your back was facing him.

His fingers were still cold from the water, and you jumped when they first made contact with your skin. He only laughed, squeezing both hands around your shoulders to hold you still before he got back to work again.

The first graze of his hands across your shoulders was tentative. You could feel the heat of him behind your back, the smell of salt and sun clinging to the air around you. His breaths fanned the skin on the back of your neck, sending goosebumps down your arms and legs despite the thick heat of the afternoon. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Slowly, his hands made their way down to your lower back, and it was then that you realised you might be in trouble. His hands pressed against the grooves of your spine, curving ever so slightly around your waist, and if you shivered, he pretended not to feel you tremble in his grasp.

It was when his fingers slipped underneath the ties of your bikini top that the alarm bells began to go off in your head. His movements were hesitant, fingers stuttering in their dance across your skin before they gingerly pulled the strings aside to spread the sunscreen between the top and bottom halves of your back. It was too much, feeling his warmth, knowing there was only an inch of space between your bare torsos, having his hands on you doing such a thorough job with the task he had assigned to himself. When the tips of his fingers brushed the side of your ribs, just under the edge of the fabric, you couldn’t help the breathy noise that escaped your lips.

“Actually, I think I left something back at the house,” you said suddenly, words hurriedly running into each other as they tripped over your tongue on the way out of your mouth. Twisting away from his dangerous touch, you bolted to a stand and hoped he’d attribute the pinkness of your cheeks to being outside in the brightness of the afternoon. Your words came out staggered, the slight tremble in your voice betraying the composure you were fighting so hard to maintain.

Baekhyun’s gaze was careful, if not a little confused. The more his eyes ran over you, the more you were sure that the depth of your feelings towards him were beginning to surface on your face. Another second and he’d be able to tell, he’d figure out the little secret you’d been trying to conceal for the last couple of months. And then you wouldn’t be able to deny its existence anymore.

So you fled, tossing a rushed promise to be right back over your shoulder before scurrying up the bushy path again. Away from the scrutiny of his eyes, away from the truth you did not want revealed to the world. The ghost of his touch lingered between your shoulder blades and along the ridges of your spine, your body already committing to memory the caress of his skin against yours. You realised then, that it would not be possible to continue living on as usual, now that you knew the taste of his closeness, as fleeting as it may have been.

“I think you should just go for it.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass at his words. Chanyeol’s tone was light and pragmatic, speaking as if the act of unfurling your heart were nothing more than a decision about whether to have steak or pork belly for dinner.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed, bringing the bottle to your lips.

“I’m serious though,” he continued, nudging your arm with the lip of his own beer. “I think you should just tell him, and see what he says. And stop expecting the worst. You’ll never know how things could turn out if you never do anything.”

You let your head fall back to lean on the doorframe you were both standing against, gazing out at the patio that had begun to darken following the sunset. Baekhyun and Jongin were placed at opposite ends of the ping pong table that had been wheeled out of the living room after dinner, neither seeming to mind the soft prick of grass at the underside of their bare feet. Whether the game was proceeding well was difficult to deduce, since both were sporting wide grins and rosy cheeks, courtesy of the glasses in their hands — but judging by the cluster of orange balls around Baekhyun’s feet, you had an inkling that victory would not be his. He didn’t seem to mind yet, laughing gleefully as Jongin swung his racquet too hard and launched a ball over the fence.

“Not everyone is as good as you when it comes to talking about their feelings, you know,” you said, fixing Chanyeol with a knowing look that was halfway between admiration and resentment. If you only had his courage of expression, perhaps you would’ve put an end to your suffering a while ago. Ripped the band-aid off cleanly instead of peeling away at it, day by day, bit by bit, until it was hanging on by the last of its adhesive. You weren’t sure how much longer your resolve could last, if it would even survive this weekend without snapping under the force of your attraction.

He only shrugged. “You can’t get good without actually doing it.” You pondered his words in the short silence that settled while you both took another sip. He was right, of course, you knew that, but it didn’t make hearing it any easier.

“I think… I’m just scared,” you began slowly. Realising you were about to put his advice into action, Chanyeol turned to you with reassuring and patient eyes, waiting. You took a deep breath, swinging the contents of your bottle back and forth, and continued, “I’m scared that if I do tell him, it’s going to change our relationship and then I’ll lose him completely. At least if I don’t say anything, he’s still my friend, and I get to keep being in his life.”

He regarded you for a moment, brows furrowed thoughtfully, as he decided on his next words. It was no easy feat to try on honesty the way you just did, having so carefully avoided it for your entire life, and he was well aware of it. The slight tremble in your hands was a dead giveaway.

“And I think that’s completely understandable,” he finally said. “There’s always going to be a trade-off, no matter what you choose to do. But I guess you have to weigh up which one means more to you, and if you’re willing to take that risk on the chance that it does work out between you two. I’m only telling you what I think you should do. You’re the one who knows your own feelings the best.”

Another silence fell over the two of you again. Your bottle was nearly empty now, the beer inside already lukewarm from being out of the cooler for too long. Jongin let out a cheer as the ball sailed over his head, landing far behind him on the grass and ignoring Baekhyun’s flagrant attempts at contesting the point. Even under the patio lights, he was still so pretty, cheeks pink and glowy, the shape of his mouth so endearing as it settled into a pout. By now, you were used to the longing, and paid it no mind as it filled your chest with a bittersweet warmth.

“Aren’t you two best friends though?” you asked, the thought suddenly occurring to you. “You’re telling me you don’t know anything about how he feels about… whatever is going on?” The look you gave Chanyeol was suspicious, but he stood strong, resisting your prying eyes.

“I wouldn’t be much of a best friend if I went around blabbing to you about his feelings, would I?” was his response, accompanied by an elusive smile. There was something in his words that lingered in your mind, some important detail you felt as if you had overlooked, but his amused expression gave you nothing to hold onto. “You’re both so clueless,” he chuckled after a beat of your thoughtful silence, downing the rest of his drink.

Baekhyun was skipping over now, having officially lost 18-21 to Jongin, who was heartily celebrating his victory with a series of hoots and giggles. He headed straight for you, hair all messed up from running his hands through it during the game, and a rosy flush to his face, though you weren’t sure if that was from the game or the glass that he had left at the ping pong table. When he wrapped his arms around you and buried his head in your shoulder, you knew that it was probably the latter.

“I lost the game,” he whined, petulant and firm against you. His hair tickled your chin, and you could smell the faint scent of his shampoo from his shower after the beach.

“Are you drunk already?” you asked, trying to mask your breathlessness at his proximity with a few giggles. Baekhyun’s affinity for physical contact was the worst — or best, depending on how you looked at it — when he had alcohol in his system, and it didn’t take much to push him past the borders of sobriety. His ache for touch and affection was most often relieved on you, and you always obliged, gladly and readily letting him take whatever it was he wanted.

The tip of his nose brushed back and forth against your skin as he shook his head. “Just a little, tiny bit,” he said, voice muffled, and you felt the warmth of his breath through your t-shirt.

“Where’s the love for your best friend?” Chanyeol teased, the only one amused at the way Baekhyun had dived straight into your arms without even sparing him a glance.

The boy in your arms didn’t even falter, only snuggling further into you. “You know it’s because she’s my favourite,” he murmured, lips skimming your collarbone ever so softly as he spoke. The panic onset was instantaneous, and you prayed he was too drunk to pick up on the sudden rapid thundering of your heartbeat inside your chest. You tried to look at Chanyeol for help, but he was setting off across the patio, taking up Jongin on his invitation for a match with the promise that he would wipe the floor with the younger boy.

Baekhyun only hummed contentedly, oblivious to the havoc he was wreaking inside you, tightening his hold around you when you made a half-hearted attempt to wriggle out of his arms. His pink lips set into another rounded pout, brows slightly creased as he pulled back to look at you.

“You know you’re my favourite, right?” he asked, trying to be convincing despite the slight slur to his words. You could only nod, letting a small smile twist the corners of your mouth upwards. Whether he realised or meant what he was saying, you weren’t all that concerned, simply happy to bask in the warmth of his full attention knowing it was probably just nonsensical babble brought on by the drink in his belly. It was so much easier to be close to him when he was like this, hazier, and sure to forget most of what he had said the morning afterwards. It didn’t hurt that you were also starting to feel a little blurrier around the edges, the beer from earlier making its way through your system and leaving behind a pleasant fuzziness that made it all the more tempting to come clean about your feelings. But you weren’t quite there yet, and you had no plans to get to that point tonight.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, he curled back up into you. With your hands around his back, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heart, the comfortingly even beat of it through his rib cage. It was so easy to imagine this was the way it had always been, and would always be, so easy to slip into the fairytale you often found yourself fabricating when your one-sided longing became too much to contain. It would be so nice if you could live in this moment forever, you thought. But was this small pocket of peace worth risking your entire friendship?

“I wish you’d stop running away from me,” he murmured, or at least that’s what you thought he said. It was a little difficult to concentrate when his lips were grazing your skin again, lightly feathering across your neck as the words shaped his mouth on their way out of it.

And then you felt it, the unmistakable and deliberate press of his lips against your collarbone, the gentle pressure and the slight moisture on your skin from it searing through you like a lit trail of gasoline. This time, he had to have heard the stilted gasp that escaped your mouth.

He lifted his head slowly to look at you again, searching your face with glassy eyes — for what, you weren’t quite sure. The only things you were sure of right now were the fiery burn in your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your heart that echoed between your ears.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, though his expression was nowhere near as apologetic as his words would have you believe. If anything, his gaze on you was almost daring, waiting to see how you’d respond, if you’d shrink back into yourself like you always did when he got too close and crossed that invisible boundary you only danced around. If you’d run away from him the way he had just said he wished you wouldn’t. Or if you’d let him push you over too, just this once.

Seeing the hesitation in your face, he slowly extricated from you, retracting his limbs and warmth until they hung limply by his sides again. Scratched the back of his head. Let his eyes wander around the patio and settle on anything except for you.

“I’m going to see if Kyungsoo needs any help with cleaning up,” he said quietly, not waiting for your response as he headed back into the house. The drink had made his gait unsteady, and you felt him sway against the doorframe as he brushed past you. A chilling unease began to settle in the pit of your stomach as you watched him go, the shape of his back getting smaller and smaller as he was swallowed by the light of the living room.

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, and that there was a possibility it had not been in the direction you had hoped for.

Perhaps the second glass of wine had been a little overambitious, you realised, staring up at the ceiling of your shared bedroom. Kyungsoo had been so excited about the 2012 Shiraz he had brought from home, pouring you a full glass with an enthusiasm he didn’t often display. You couldn’t say no, and you didn’t protest when he refilled it a short while later. If he noticed the faster-than-usual speed with which you drained its contents, he did not show it. Whilst alcohol tended to put people to sleep, it had the opposite effect on you, dangling sleep in front of you like a carrot you could never get a hold of easily, or for long. That second glass of wine was the reason you were lying in bed, not soundly asleep like you wished, but keenly aware of every breath and every movement from the other occupant of the room, only an arm’s length away from you.

Baekhyun had spent most of the night with Chanyeol out on the patio, drinking and laughing under the generous light of the moon. Even if he wasn’t purposely avoiding you, you felt his absence from your side sorely. He didn’t say much during the wind down for bed either, only asking if you wanted the curtains fully shut, to which you gave an affirmative. Still, a sliver of moonlight speared through the gap between them, illuminating the room just enough that if you turned your head to the side, you could make out the outline of his body beneath the covers and acquaint yourself with the familiar curve of his nose.

It was only fair that the wine, having taken your sleep, offered something in return to mark an honourable trade. That something manifested itself in the restlessness of your mouth, which battled against the remaining rationality of your mind. Loose-lipped and anxious, you dug your nails into the palm of your hand, willing the war inside your head to approach a ceasefire. You did not want to make a fool of yourself in the intimacy of this small room.

However, your resolve could not last for long, corroded by the hours spent without his presence, without the familiar warmth of his touch, without his little comments meant only for you as he pointed out something silly or poked fun at Jongin’s whining. Barely above a whisper, you called out his name, letting your voice permeate the darkness. It was loud enough that he’d hear it above the silence, but soft enough that he could ignore it if he so wished, and you’d attribute his ignorance to the deepness of sleep.

There was a second of silence, which he followed with an answering hum and a shuffle of his legs on the mattress. He was awake, and he was waiting for you to speak.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked the ceiling.

“No, I’m not mad at you,” was his reply, accompanied by a quiet sigh. He was conversing with the ceiling too, just as reluctant to face you.

Your hands twisted the sheets in dissatisfaction. The even tone of his voice indicated truth, but his answer didn’t explain why he had spent the whole night outside without calling for you even once, when he usually couldn’t last half an hour without pressing into your side and tickling your shoulder to grab your attention.

“Then what?” you probed, cringing at the whiny edge to your voice.

He was quiet for a while, letting your words hang in the air, that for a moment you thought he wouldn’t speak, that your brief conversation had already come to an end, and you’d be left with unanswered questions as bedside companions for the night. There was another rustling from his side of the room as he settled himself under the covers.

“Sometimes, I think I want too much from you,” he finally said. He was quiet, but you heard every word with the clarity as if they had been projected through a stereo system. “And you can’t give me everything I want, but that’s not your fault. It’s an indication of my own greed and selfishness more than anything else.”

You kicked around at your sheets to signal your unrest at his words. “I don’t think you are greedy or selfish. At all. At least not with me.” If anything, you were the selfish one, wanting all his smiles and touches for yourself, wanting the entire spectrum of his existence to only ever be shown to you. Your generosity only ever came to light when it was in service of him, gladly letting him take your attention, your time, allocating space in your mind for him and him only.

Baekhyun only laughed a soft and short laugh at your reply, the sound so different from the usual one filled with boisterous joy that you had grown the most used to. You heard him turn over in his bed to face you. In the quiet darkness of the room, the focus of his gaze flooded over you, and the intensity of it was so blinding you didn’t dare to look away from the smoothness of the ceiling, fearing you’d smoulder into ash the moment you locked eyes with him.

“You know that you are a really important person to me. You know that, right?” he asked, eyes searing into you with the force of a thousand suns. “I mean, everyone else is also important because they’re my friends, but you’re different — you are a special person to me. I don’t see you the way I see Chanyeol, or Jongin, or anyone else.”

His words were still tinged with the slight slur of the beer from out on the patio, but you could feel the delicate care with which they were chosen and spoken. Something was different about tonight. You could taste it in the thick air between the two of you, feel it in the wire-taut tension stretching across the gap between your two twin beds. Your fingers dug into the comforter, willing the turbulence in your chest to subside.

He paused and took a deep breath, as if bracing himself against something devastating. “I don’t want the same things with them as I do with you.”

You held your breath until you felt the pain of deprivation in your chest.

“But I’ve made peace with the fact that what I want from you, and the way I feel about you, are things I’ll have to carry with me. They’re things I have to bear the weight of alone. I don’t — I would never want you to be uncomfortable, or see me differently.” There was a slight catch in his voice at the end.

You didn’t even know if your lungs were still working while you listened to him speak. There was a surrealness to the night, as if everything had been covered in a blanket of haze and everything that was transpiring was the product of a fever-induced dream, existing on an alternate timeline.

Baekhyun… it didn’t even feel right thinking it.

Baekhyun had feelings for you? And he had convinced himself it was one-sided?

“It’s pretty selfish, isn’t it? Asking you to act like things between us won’t change after everything I just said,” he laughed, but there was little humour in the sound. You finally turned your head to look at him, the wry curve of his mouth catching the moonlight as he gazed at you. He was smiling, the shape of it meant to comfort you, but he could not hide the sadness weaved into the downturn of his eyes. He had always been braver than you, perhaps not in the aspect of riding roller-coasters, but certainly in his ability to be honest and open about his emotions, regardless of whether they were good or bad.

It was your turn to be brave now, and shed your own fear to meet him where he stood.

“I’ve been seeing you differently for a while now,” you admitted, turning under the sheets to fully face him. You were grateful for the darkness, hoping that it would conceal the heat creeping up your neck and face, painting your cheeks with a hot blush that accompanied the start of your confession. His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to process your words, confusion settling in the crease between them. You held yourself back from reaching out to smooth them over.

“What do you mean?”

“What makes you think you’re the only one who feels this way?” you asked instead, leaving his question unanswered. There was a tremble in your voice as you spoke, and you were sure he heard it above the quiet of your bedroom. It was the closest you could get to telling him without actually telling him about the silent battle that had been raging in your head for the last few months.

This was it, you thought. He had to know now.

“Am I not?”

The weight of his stare pressed against you, drawing you to him with the tangible pull of gravity. The eyes that roamed your face had replaced their previous confusion with questioning, and a glimmer of something akin to hope. He had never looked more beautiful and devastating than he did right now. You felt the light of dawn breaking over your skin, a promise of something new and good sure to follow. Its warmth simmered within you, staving off the chill of the late summer night with a heat that had you pushing off your covers in a hurried frenzy and rising to sit on the edge of your bed, toes just grazing the floorboards beneath you. Would you still have had the same nerve to face him in the daylight, rough and exposed without the lulling comfort of darkness? Would he still look at you, unpolished and flawed in the clarity of the sun, the same way, with the reverence of man at the sight of an angel?

Baekhyun mirrored you and sat up on his own bed, slowly, as if not wanting to spook you, fearing you’d run off and retreat back into the confined familiarity of your own head. His knees knocked against yours in the small space between your two mattresses. You jolted at the feeling of his skin on yours, having gone without it for so long that the mere touch was like the first drop of water after emerging from the desert. He made to move away, trying to shuffle across the length of the bed, but stilled at the hand you placed just over his knee, willing him to stay put. Surely, he could feel the beat of your heart thrumming through your fingertips.

It was your turn to be brave now.

Fueled by the second glass of Shiraz and the muted encouragement of darkness, before you could second guess yourself and overthink every possible negative outcome of what you were about to do, you closed your eyes and leant towards him. Slowly, inch by inch, until your journey ended with the soft, tentative press of your lips against his. It was short and chaste, nothing more than a gentle pressure, and you pulled back when you felt his lips part in surprise.

“Does that answer your question?” you whispered, heart in your throat.

There it was. You had gone and done it.

His eyes were closed, and in the dim moonlight peeking through the curtain, you could almost make out each of his eyelashes, fluttering dark and soft against the smooth skin of his cheek. For a few seconds, the room was filled only with the sounds of your breathing as you waited for his reaction, for the consequences of your actions and what that meant for your friendship with him.

Then you heard it — his soft laugh, coloured with appreciative disbelief, and felt the air of it caress your face. The corners of his mouth curved upwards into a small, pleased smile. His eyes blinked open slowly, taking you in with a hunger that had desire curling in the pit of your stomach.

“You are just so…” he began, but you never found out just exactly what you were. He was already pulling you back into him, slotting his mouth against yours like they were always made to fit perfectly together. This time, the kiss was anything but chaste, the sheer force of it enough to scorch your insides down to your bones. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush towards him, and your knees parted around his thighs to adjust to the new position. Your own hands found purchase in the softness of the hair at the nape of his neck, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, in fear that the realisation of this moment would somehow make it slip away.

This was what it felt like to stand unafraid and bare in the light of unbridled wanting, to consume and be consumed by a ravenous appetite with no propensity for satiety. When his hands slipped past the hem of your sleep tank, fingertips grazing across the skin of your lower back, you were sure you could erupt into flames. He swallowed the breathy noise that escaped your lips, tongue brushing against yours as he claimed your mouth with his own.

This was what it felt like to hold the sun in the palm of your hand.

When you broke apart to catch your breaths, his eyes were bright, lips plump and swollen, chest heaving beneath your hands. Somehow, you had ended up back on his bed, his head against the pillows, hands under your shirt and keeping you close to him with an unforgiving hold. He was gazing up at you with a devotion that made your heart swell even more than it did pulling oxygen back into your lungs.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” he admitted, hiding his head into the crook of your shoulder. You felt his abashed smile against your skin and wondered how it could be possible that you had contained all of this, the longing, the yearning, inside you for so long.

“How long?” you asked, hearing the smile in your own voice.

“Since Chanyeol’s birthday, when you wore that brown sweater with the little bow on the back.”

Last year, Chanyeol had gotten everyone together at his place for a nice dinner and wine followed by a binge watch of all the Iron Man movies in one sitting. It was all going according to plan until a quarter of the way into the third one, when he began snoring at his own birthday gathering. The bowl of popcorn was sliding out of his hands and sure to make a buttery mess all over the rug, and that’s when the rest of you decided to turn the television off and call it a night. Sehun and Jongin tasked themselves with getting the birthday boy into bed, and likely collapsed onto it with him immediately after, while Baekhyun had offered you the couch, assuring you he’d be fine with the blankets on the floor. At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it. As chaotic as he could be, Baekhyun was nothing if not kind, and you had been grateful that his kindness had always extended to you over the three years you had known each other.

“But that was more than half a year ago. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

His fingers prodded into your sides, eliciting a few choked giggles from you. “I didn’t know how you’d react. You know you’re not the most expressive person on the planet,” he said dryly. “Or the most observant. I literally frenched your collarbone and you’re telling me you didn’t realise I liked you more than as a friend?”

“Okay, well when you put it like that,” you huffed, feeling the vibrations of his laugh through his chest. “But you really didn’t know I had feelings for you? Chanyeol never said anything?”

His movements stilled, leaning back into the pillows so he could lock eyes with you again. “You talk to Chanyeol about me?” he asked, to which you nodded sheepishly. “Since when?”

“Last month, Jongdae’s housewarming. He fished it out of me after dinner,” you sighed, picturing his smug grin under the lights of Jongdae’s fancy new kitchen when you realised that you had slipped up and let him in on your little secret.

“But I talk to him about you.”

You looked at each other for another beat, realisation breaking over the both of you, before dissolving into another fit of disbelieving giggles. Maybe Park Chanyeol did know how to keep his mouth shut after all.

“So he’s a terrible wingman, is what I’m getting out of this whole thing,” Baekhyun chuckled, rolling you over so you were now lying on your side, face to face with him. He planted a slow, sweet kiss on your lips, taking his time to acquaint himself with the shape and taste of your mouth, and you felt the contentment of his smile against you. “I can’t believe we could have gotten together a month ago. Some best friend he is.”

“Gotten together?” you echoed, one eyebrow raised in feigned dispute, delighting in the way his sweet mouth settled into the pout that you adored.

“You mean to tell me that you don’t want to be with me after your tongue was all up in my mouth?”

You pushed his face away, groaning, “Gross, don’t say it like that.” He, however, had different plans, hooking a calf behind your knees and tugging you back into him, before weaving the other leg in between your own.

“You know you like it,” he murmured into your neck, squeezing his arms around you just in case you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. One hand traced absent-minded circles over the grooves of your spine as he breathed you in, warm and familiar against your chest.

Yes, you thought, you’d risk any and everything for this exact moment. It was worth all the doubt and heartache, all the time spent replaying those moments in your head, unsure of the meaning behind his actions. You could be sure of it now.

“I do,” you agreed, threading your fingers through the softness of his hair. “I probably more than like you,” you added, tilting his face upwards to steal another kiss, giddy and chest swelling with affection. Perhaps you weren’t quite yet ready for that other four letter word, but you had no doubt you would be one day, and soon. He was all too willing to comply, letting his mouth mould against yours with the poise and patience of a saint.

“I probably more than like you too,” he replied, punctuating his confession with one final kiss to the tip of your nose. It was enough for the serene smile on your face to persist, even past the arrival of sleep.

“I knew it.”

You cracked one eye open, trying to adjust to the light flooding in through the open door to your room. Chanyeol stood at the foot of your bed, grinning from ear to ear with what could only be described as a look of triumph as he took in the scene before him. The boy next to you stirred lightly, digging his face deeper into the pillow, reluctant to leave the realm of the sleeping. Chanyeol was not in the least sympathetic to his friend’s struggles, striding over to the window and pulling back the curtains with a clang. You winced as the full force of the morning sun barged in, and Baekhyun let out a soft noise of displeasure at the intrusion.

“I fucking knew it,” Chanyeol said again, quickly bringing you to your senses as you registered the weight of another body on top of your own. You made to remove yourself from him, fighting the flush creeping up your neck and face, but it was an effort which proved futile as he only tightened the arm around your waist, loath to let you go.

“Can you be quiet? You’re going to wake the whole house,” you hushed, finally succeeding in untangling your legs from Baekhyun’s, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately.

“They’re already up. I came to call you for breakfast,” Chanyeol replied, the grin seemingly stuck to his face. “Which actually reminds me,” he began, before sticking his head out of the doorway to holler, “You better pay up, Jongin. And you too, Kyungsoo!”

“You bet on us?” came the groggy voice from the pillows behind you.

“What the hell, Chanyeol? I thought you said you didn’t go around blabbing about his feelings!” you exclaimed, indignant.

“To you. I never said anything about telling anyone else,” was his reply, smug and victorious at having outsmarted you.

Kyungsoo appeared in the doorway, donning a flour-covered apron, as if to confirm for himself that he was in fact a debtor to the taller boy. “Even if he didn’t say anything, it wasn’t all that hard to figure out,” he said lightly, surveying the room with curiosity and paying no mind to the shock painted on your face. How had everybody known about your now not-so-secret crush on Baekhyun except for the man himself? “Anyways, I only said that it would be unlikely to happen over this weekend, not that it was impossible. So Jongin is the only loser. Now come for pancakes.” And with that, he headed back towards his bowl of batter on the kitchen counter, chuckling at the sound of Jongin’s complaints against fulfilling his end of the wager.

Baekhyun, having somewhat freed himself from the clutches of sleep, rose to a sitting position and shot a drowsy scowl at his friend. “You’re kind of an asshole, you know that right?”

But even the expletive could not put a damper on Chanyeol’s mood, his smile never slipping. “You two should honestly be thanking me,” he said, to which you also shot him a glare. “Also, I’m happy for you and everything, but can you please keep the PDA to a minimum in front of the rest of us? I will lock you out of the house if you don’t.”

Baekhyun turned to you, the creases of the frown on his face slowly but surely smoothing out as he took you in, cheeks puffy and hair a mess from having just woken up. He had seen you in worse states, and definitely in better states, but none of that seemed to matter as he regarded you with nothing but fondness in his eyes. You were sure that your expression mirrored his, affection spreading throughout your entire body, reaching even the tips of your fingers and toes, at the sight of his tousled bed head, the sleepy droop of his eyes, the sweet pinkness of his lips.

The sun was yours. There was no feasible way to stop the smile from blooming across your entire face.

“No promises.”

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