#the secondhand embarrassment is ruining me

[adamsvanrhijn]

this is obviously a very premature feeling but like. i want them to keep oscar on the show and i want his scenes to be tolerable to watch and if they go full realism on consequences here i am not really sure what direction they could take it that i would be able to appreciate as an audience member for whom he is blorbo... if he like. loses his job and is ostracized i don't know how they could justify keeping him on the show in a way that is both narratively meaningful and something i am comfortable watching. he does not need to suffer extended social or material punishment.

would rather they somehow magically manage to keep the details in the immediate family and that dynamic changes but his conflict with the society in which he lives is more internal for him — e.g. having to mentally confront what Could have happened to him and his family if ada had not come to the rescue and the thought of that combined with the changed family dynamic/relationship being shameful enough on its own that it changes his mindset and behavior without like. actually ruining his life

but all the people who are like. i want him to lose his job i want George Russell to prevent him from ever working in banking again i want him to be impoverished and humiliated and suicidal etc... could not be me, sorry

#i think it would suck actually if the main gay character's life is ruined and he has a terrible reputation and is beyond social redemption. #because at that point why keep him on the show. #especially when a substantial subset of the audience is going to experience schadenfreude about it. #i do not want anyone fictional or otherwise to be feeling schadenfreude about oscar sorry!!!! #no schadenfreude allowed. #the gilded age spoilers #i literally will not be able to handle it if there's on screen gossip about the situation at all it will make me want to die #also like. the rest of the family does not deserve that either and i am not interested in literally any of this going full tragedy. #if it's problematic of me to want the protagonists of the show i watch to retain their rich people social standing and Not have to #abruptly change their lifestyle then like. sorry not sorry #also while i don't think it's out of character for oscar i think it could have been explained better for the folks at home if social media #is any indication. #& it's not a choice they Had to make either so i reserve the right to be grumpy about them making it if it goes in a direction i dislike. #i am pretty much already at my canonical whump and secondhand embarrassment limit here!

[welcometoteyvat]

honestly torn between thinking that kavehtham wins in terms of funniest ship or whether I want to beat alhaitham up and personally make sure kaveh’s life gets better asap

#they're a little bit like bei.guang but also Absolutely not plus i go through secondhand embarrassment w ka.veh #honestly the only fic ive read w kvtham is where theyre friends w benefits and it leads to less arguments and getting together #it was really good though it's almost canon to me #anyways i can appreciate htham as a character but if i was in teyvat i would beat him up oh my god he's so annoying lol #he did not just disrespect ni.lou like that during the announcements i will punch him (as a joke) #his character gimmick is just really funny and yet really frustrating . i like him because he's terrible for society #also the scara parts in the new event make me also want to punch him stop ruining random bystander's days (challenge failed) #htham and xing.qiu are that type of character who are terrible terrible menaces to their friends and social circle (mildly affectionate) #scara's a pathetic little meow meow i like him when he's a wet paper bag but when he's sassy i want to reach into the screen and shake him #ramblings!

[ilgattopatata]

me recommending disco elysium: "it's going to be so uncomfortable. you play as the saddest alcoholic detective you've ever seen and you spend the first part of the game realizing how much you have fucked up before the start of the story. the humiliation can potentially kill you. the secondhand embarrassment might kill you as the player. kids on drugs will call you slurs. there are ghosts everywhere and the city is a ruin. it's also the most hopeful and poetic work of fiction i have ever experienced."

#disco elysium #discoposting

[hannie-dul-set]

PATIENCE, PATIENCE.

p — SIM JAEYUN x gn! reader. g — humor, fluff. w — swearing, making out, secondhand embarrassment aka the hannie-dul-set fic triumvirate + a good amount of public indecency. 1.5k words.

requested by — anon: cocky jock (who loses that cockiness around you) x reserved student librarian (who loses that cool because of him).

note — loosely inspired by a moment from the manhwa "unstoppable hayoung" ifykyk. in a prev fic i alluded beomgyu to a mosquito, in this one jake to a pest. i think i'm seeing a pattern here.

a pest has been following you for quite some time now.

“sim jaeyun.”

his name falls icy off your tongue, prefacing it with a sharp inhale yet the man in question is unfazed. he’s trespassing the barrier that’s preventing you from socking him in the face: the front desk of the library where he’s decided to prop his arms over, leaning into the surface, smiling oh-so-handsomely at you as if you aren’t politely telling him to fuck off with your eyes alone.

then again. you don’t really expect him to understand social cues.

“for the dozenth time, please leave me alone.”

so you verbalize your intent instead.

“i can’t do that, baby,” he replies. “not until you agree to go out with me.”

you suck in a deep huff of air, close your eyes, and dig your fingers into your thighs to ward away the distress.

“just one date. please?” he prods, nudging himself closer over the desk as if the scrawls of paper you’re trying to organize aren’t as important as his incessant badgering. “are you really going to keep saying no to this face?” the face in mention looks particularly punch-able right now. you’ve always taken pride in yourself for being a very patient, patient individual. jake sim from philosophy 102 is testing that patience.

“the library is for reading,” you say through gritted teeth. patience, patience, patience. you’re a daffodil on a breezy field, a piece of driftwood on a steady river. you will not fight a man in your workplace. you will keep your job and maintain inner peace.

“i am reading,” he argues. “i’m trying to read your mind because i don’t get why you don’t want to go out with me.”

holy crap. he’s insufferable.

“i’ve already told you dozens of times, jake.” now, you don’t know a thing or two about the ball sport he does, but that pink varsity jacket is starting to look abhorrent. it’s being shoved into your face the more he tries to throw himself over your desk. a bright jarring color, unsafe for the eyes. “i don’t want to go out with you. also, i’d appreciate if you stop ruining my work.”

one of the documents got wrinkled under his elbow. his mouth opens, “oh, sorry!” and he quickly backs off, ironing the sheet with his palms. “but at least tell me why you don’t want to go out with me. you keep rejecting me with a blank face but i don’t know why.”

your upper lip twitches. 

because this is all because of a dare, that’s fucking why.

no, even that aside, the way he keeps arrogantly trying to hit on you, expecting you to just accept it and go is grinding your gears. you’re calm. you’re usually calm. but something about this guy just pushes all your buttons in one go, makes you spew out bullshit you’d never dare yourself to say to anyone else.

“hey,” your rouse. “can you kiss me right now?”

two can play at that game, bitch.

it works. it works really well because jake is suddenly as pink as his jacket. well, you don’t blame him. the library isn’t safe from gross, hormonal activities, but those are usually done in between the shelves— not at the front desk near the entrance. 

you’re mimicking his stance, leaned forward, arms crossed over the desk and all. “like— like a peck on the cheek?” he stutters.

“no. like tongue in mouth kissing me like a starved man and it’s your last meal on death row,” you clarify. it’s funny how you can see his brain circuits crashing in real time. serves him right. you let out a breath and stand up, seeing the clock tick closer to your break. you quickly gather your things and circle out from behind the desk, now in cross-armed disappointment next to your persistent pest. “this is why i don’t want to go out with you, jake. you don’t even have feelings for me. you’re doing this because your friends told you to, and i don’t—”

suddenly, you feel something soft on your lips.

suddenly, your knees are weak, your mind is fuzzy, and you’re exchanging spit with jake sim in the library lobby.

wait, you gasp into his mouth and he responds with a grunt. wait, your eyelids flutter, air knocked out of your chest that’s somehow now pressed against his because wait— this wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

how dare he actually do what you told him to? how dare he give you the best damn kiss you’ll ever have in your life? 

“what the fuck?” you breathe out in intermittent huffs, hands on his chest as you pull yourself back. jake’s hazy eyes are looking at you in a way that makes your brain jump in circles, coupled by the arm that he has looped around your lower back. he’s crazy. he’s fucking crazy. “why— why would you do that?!”

“you told me to kiss you!”

“and you did?!”

your eyes widen at the volume of your own voice, quickly slapping a hand over your swollen lips, but making noise is at the bottom of your library sins today. you see your supervisor’s attention on you from the corner of your eye, and your face flushes. “why would you go this far for a dare?” you say in a quieter voice, still manic, still frantic, and jake flinches hard when you jab a finger to his chest. “you’re nuts, you’re actually nuts, oh my god—”

“wait, what do you mean dare?” your finger seems to be hurting him because he grabs your wrist and brings your hand down. “a dare? a dare to do what?”

you seethe. “don’t play dumb with me, jake. overheard you and your little soccer friends last time—”

“it’s football—”

“i don’t care.” your voice is getting louder again. jake flinches once more. “the problem here is you keep asking me out to date you because your soccer friends are betting on who can bed the quiet library assistant first and— and i’m not going to play dumb just because you’re a good kisser. i’m angry and disgusted and—”

“do you mind continuing your argument outside?”

your mouth is hanging open, paused mid-speech. when you peer to your left, you see that your supervisor has teleported right next to you. oh, god. there goes your job. jake apologizes for the both of you and skews your frozen figure out the door. you’re screwed. your patience could handle six months at starbucks and three months babysitting three toddlers, but i cannot handle one sim jaeyun.

“so,” the perpetrator’s voice snaps you back to reality. you’re both now outside the library, and he’s looking at you with a smugness that begs a kick to the balls. “you think i kiss good.”

your face bitters. “is that your only takeaway from all that?”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i also got that you’re rightfully mad at me for something i have to clear up.”

here we go. you’re curious to see what excuses he’ll make, how many sorry’s he’ll impart, and if he’ll get down on his knees. jake. but his starting words aren’t what you’re hoping for. “there isn’t a bet,” he starts. “my teammates were just trying to tease me because i didn’t have the balls to ask you out. dumb, i know, but they were dumber because they were all like, ‘if you don’t make a move soon, we will, blah, blah, blah’ to provoke me so—”

jake is matching his varsity jacket again.

“long story short, i made them run fifteen laps and decided to get it over with by asking you out on a date.”

you’re brought back to the first instance jake had asked you out— it was in the lecture hall, right after class, and he was wearing the same pink jacket that at this point seems like his second skin. the color isn’t as jarring as you initially thought.

“but rejection didn’t feel nice. so i thought i’d try again.”

you narrow your eyes. “again, as in like, eight times?”

“you counted?” he muses. you are unamused. he clears his throat and continues. “you’re always so calm and collected, but your eyebrows would furrow and your face would scrunch up whenever i threw you the question. it’s cute. i got addicted. you can’t pin all the blame on me.”

you let his words simmer, and with each passing second of silence jake grows more nervous, fidgeting in wait. you decide to spare him the agony, letting out a deep and heavy sigh. “okay. you’re forgiven.”

it’s instantaneous how his face lights up. now, you’re the one flinching.

“nice! does that mean we’re dating now? can i kiss you again?”

“now hold on,” you stop him, mildly appalled, mostly flustered. “i said i forgive you. i never said we can start making out in a public area again.”

he bats his eyes at you. “in private then?” 

you want to hit him. you want to hit him so bad. sim jaeyun is the pest that has been following you for quite some time now. you fear that at this point, there’s no getting rid of him now.

PATIENCE, PATIENCE. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen jake x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #jake sim x reader #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #sim jaeyun scenarios #jake sim scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x you #sim jaeyun x you #jake sim x you

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - masterlist (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst)

pairing: yoongi x reader ft. chaotic bestie jimin & cutie coworker jungkook

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

contains: explicit sexual content - enemies/coworkers to lovers, hate sex, accidental voyeurism, semi-public sex, dirty talk, mutual teasing, slow burn, a whole lotta general banter, truly excessive alcohol consumption, & prepare for extreme secondhand embarrassment

🖤 each individual chapter will have its own warnings! please read them and proceed with caution where appropriate 🖤

please note that this series is currently on hiatus - asks about updates will not be answered and i don't have an ETA on the final chapter's release at this time. i appreciate your patience with me 🖤

✨ read on AO3 ✨ main masterlist ✨

chapter one 7.2k - “I still can’t believe you actually lied your way into this job.”

chapter two 6.1k - “Do you like tteokbokki?”

chapter three 8.2k - “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked what you saw.”

chapter four 8.2k - “Yeah, you like that?”

chapter five 11.4k - “Do you want to hear a funny story?”

chapter six 6.2k - “If you want it so bad, then beg for it.”

chapter seven 8.9k - “Oh my god. You do have a weakness.”

chapter eight 15.3k - “I’m sorry, is this a booty call?”

chapter nine 16.0k - “And the Grammy goes to…”

chapter ten 13.1k - “I just want you to be happy.”

please note that this series is currently on hiatus - asks about updates will not be answered and i don't have an ETA on the final chapter's release at this time. i appreciate your patience with me 🖤

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #here2bbtstrash #look down on me like that #PLEASE CLAP i should've made this ages ago omg

[tollingreminiscentbells]

Hi kids, let's talk.

What are we talking about, Auntie Noe? You might be thinking. I'm glad you asked! We are talking about tacky behavior in fandom.

When I did my silly post last night about preferring to write characters who switch, I didn't think it would become a thing. This was naïveté on my part. Mea fucking culpa. Because it has come to my attention that a certain segment of the fandom is Very Unhappy about it. And I know that because it's all public.

I'm not going to do screenshots because this isn't about individuals, but rather a pattern of behavior that I find extremely distasteful. Tweets about how upsetting this is, how they don't "deserve" this, how horrible it is that I'm ruining my fic by (checks notes) including sex that doesn't feature their preferred top/bottom dynamic. And this isn't isolated—it happens fairly frequently in the Tomarrymort fandom.

Here's the thing. I'm not a content creator and this isn't a product. I am a woman on the internet writing a piece of fanfiction in her off hours. I'm choosing to share it and I take pleasure in the fact that people are enjoying it with me, but that doesn't change the fundamental truth that it is my story that I'm writing for me.

No one has to read anything they don't want to. That's not where this is going. I frequently choose not to read things, or abandon stories partway through because something happened that I don't like. That's very normal and healthy and I think everyone should approach fandom that way.

But you know what I don't do? Complain publicly about how a fic I thought I'd like turned out to not be my thing.

You know why I don't do that? Because it's entitled and rude. Fanfiction writers are part of the community, not public figures. If you don't want to keep reading my story, that's okay! Do what will bring you joy. But complaining about me in public is painfully gauche and the secondhand embarrassment is threatening to kill me. Please, for the love of god, find some decorum and stop being weird about fictional sex.

Also, while I'm here, the switching post should not have been a revelation to anyone currently reading because Voldemort and Harry actually talked about it briefly back in chapter 21. The "we have plenty of time to do anything your heart desires" exchange? What did you think they were talking about? Honestly, now.

[jimilter]

on the borderline — 01 | pjm. (m)

Park Jimin has been your buoy, your anchor and the ship of sanity that guides you to shore amid storms of self-doubt, nearly all your life; as have you been his. That is not to say nothing has ever brewed beneath the surface of platonic friendship, or that the two of you have never been victims to mistiming. Regardless, you would never risk the friendship you have with him now for anything. Even if you have to hurt him – or even yourself – in the process.

pairing: jimin x reader

rating: m (18+)

genre: humor | fluff | smut | friends to lovers!au

word count: 9.7 k

— warnings: swearing + alcohol consumption + unresolved sexual tension + mentions of therapy + really lame humor + some dark humor (a mention of n*crophilia) + sexual situations (mentioned m. receiving oral, explicit f. receiving oral) + a ton of secondhand embarrassment

— note: it is finally done, omfg. writer's block got me good with this one - literally made me crawl and mocked me for overestimating my abilities. but at least we are finally kicking this off, right? i hope you enjoy this messy ride, drop me a word, guys~ 💜

ps. the rating, genre and warnings mentioned above pertain to this chapter, only.

main masterlist | taglist | feedback?

↪ series masterlist | next ▹

𝐈 ⇢ 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ♪ could it be i don’t know what’s good for me?

“Who even celebrates turning twenty-seven, dude?”

“Wha—”

“In this economy? Isn’t it better to just, I don’t know, wait till your thirtieth and then throw some grand party of the decade?”

“Hey, it’s—”

“I mean, sure, it’s a wonder Park Jimin survived another year without ending up in jail because he killed a co-worker, but—”

“Hey! They were not that bad!” he cuts you off with a protest. And then immediately sighs in resignation. "Okay, yeah, they were. That last month in that office was hell. Half the reason why I accepted this transfer was because I didn't want blood on my hands."

"Hold on," you raise your own protest. "I thought I was half the reason?"

"Uh… you're the other half?"

"Right, and the promotion had no influence on it, whatsoever.”

“Okay, this is a trap,” Jimin groans, finally giving up, and you break into laughter at his plight. “This is so unfair,” comes his disgruntled complaint. “Refuse to join my birthday celebrations and then find ways to laugh at me. You’ve got a way with ruining people’s day, babe, anyone ever tell you that?”

Rolling your eyes, you scan the cover page of the powerpoint presentation before you. “You do. Every other day.”

“And I’m right. Just come to the damn party, you big baby! I promise you’ll have a good time!”

“You don’t know that and you can’t promise that.”

Jimin releases a deep sigh on the other end of the phone and you purse your lips. 

You’re kinda mean for testing his patience on his birthday. But, in your defense, it was him that threw you a curveball first by insisting that you – the most unsociable person in his life – come to this celebration he’s having at his place with his work friends. Which just translates to his entire office, because Park Jimin is a massive social butterfly. You sometimes wonder how you two even stay friends with such differently designed social batteries.

Case in point, you don’t wanna spend your Thursday evening trying to mingle with his coworkers and faking smiles. Not when you know you two could be having so much more fun with a chill night in, watching movies and sipping wine. Or, like, maybe sipping coffee because you have an important presentation to give tomorrow morning. 

And that’s another reason why you don’t wanna freaking party – you have a Friday morning brainstorming session with your department about this workshop you’re in charge of organizing next week. You don’t have a keynote speaker yet and Rachel from Legal has refused to sit in as guest of honor so you kinda need a new guest, too.

“If you didn’t wanna party,” Jimin suddenly grumbles through the phone, breaking you out of your work-related thoughts, “why send me a birthday wish text full of balloons at midnight? You seemed more excited than me with your all caps party party and fifteen exclamation marks.”

Wincing, you close your eyes. You’d known you were overdoing it even as you typed that second text message. And now you’re gonna have to bullshit your way out of this.

You begin with a light scoff. “Well, I was obviously talking about the two of us having a party.” You weren’t. “Didn’t know you were so obsessed with the idea of turning twenty-seven you would invite your entire company.” You did.

Jimin’s groan spills with frustration. “Babe, for the last time, I’m doing this under pressure. My colleagues all self-invited themselves, okay? Like, I swear to you, if I could get out of hosting this thing, I would.” 

He sounds kind of distressed now which indicates he’s being truthful. Not that Jimin is a compulsive liar, but he does have this tendency to withhold facts to benefit his cause, at times. 

“My entire office has been on my ass ever since they found out my birthdate. And I have to have a big heart about it because the Director has to set a good example and all that dumb shit that nobody but the CEO cares about because the rest of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths and actually need to work to earn our paychecks.” He exhales loudly at the end of his outburst. “Do you understand, babe?”

A pout pulls on your lips because you do actually understand. You don't like that you understand because then you can't annoy him anymore which is always so much fun, but his reasoning is actually reasonable. 

Jimin has been working as the Regional Director of his company for less than a year. Eight months, to be exact, ever since he moved here following his promotion. Here, as in the place you’ve been located in for the past three years. This is the first time the two of you have been in the same city for such a long period of time ever since high school, a matter of fact. 

Sighing at your train of thoughts, you start the spell-checker program for your presentation and then push your laptop away to lay back on the carpeted floor, staring up at the ceiling. 

"I do understand, I guess," you finally concede.

"Thank you!"

"Doesn't mean I support it, though."

"I know."

Chuckling, you lift your phone off the table to peek at the screen. 

Ongoing call with Min 🌟73m 51s

“Jimin?”

“Hm?”

“Have you finalized a shirt yet? We've been on the call for over an hour. It’s past eight." You shut your eyes and exhale. "You'll be late to your own party…"

“What do you care?” he petulantly huffs in response. “I’ll be late if I want to. It’s not as if you will be kept waiting…”

Oh, God, this petty bitch.

“Jimin,” you groan in frustration, “don’t be catty, just tell me if you need my help!”

“I’m not being catty, you’re being a bad friend.” He pauses, and when you give another groan at his words, he clicks his tongue. “Fine, yeah, I need help…”

Rolling your eyes, you lift your phone up again. “How many are you confused among? Switch to video, show me.”

Within seconds, your best friend appears on the screen, raking his fingers through his hair like he is constantly doing, twenty-five hours a day. He has his reading glasses on beneath furrowed brows and squinted eyes – which he is yet to focus on the camera or at you – and his lips are pouted in either frustration or anger, or both. 

Nonetheless, he looks as good as he always has. A bit mature with his slightly longer black hair which he has been growing out ever since he got here. This promotion has relieved him of some of the workplace rules he was made to adhere to previously – one of them being how he styled his hair. Given Jimin’s obsession with dyes during his college days, you can only imagine how badly he must be itching for some highlights. You’ve told him time and again that natural black suits him best, but the guy always has other ideas.

A smile pulls at your lips.

“Your hair looks nice.”

That grabs his attention, making his eyes snap up to focus a little below the camera. “Huh?”

“Your hair. It looks nice,” you repeat, this time clearing your throat because, well, rehashing the wayward compliment makes you cringe a bit. "Without, y'know, any crazy highlights or dyeing? It looks, uh, good."

The grimace on your face is mirrored by Jimin and you immediately regret opening your mouth. You and Jimin suck at giving or accepting compliments. Insistent teasing and insults are more your forte.

This is weird.

Jimin clears his throat and pats his head, looking unsure. “Does it?” His squinted eyes and pursed lips express discomfort as he adjusts the dark strands around his forehead again. “Uh, thanks…? I am gonna get a trim after Christmas.”

Jumping the opportunity to swerve the conversation, you frantically nod your head. “That's a good idea! But like, Christmas is more than two months away, dude… You’ll be halfway into your Rapunzel era by that time…”

Proud of yourself, you burst into giggles while Jimin scowls at you and stares you down wordlessly until you finally stop. "You're so fucking lame."

You solemnly nod your head. "Astute observation. Now. The shirts, please?”

He makes an exaggerated show of rolling his eyes but then finally moves the camera away, probably placing his phone on some shelf, and steps back to allow you a glimpse of the two hangers in his hands. You squint, bringing your own phone closer to take in the two apparels on the tiny screen. And you do see two shirts, but they just look… black to you. Like, legitimately just black. 

Fuck, is this how guys feel when girls ask them to pick apart nail paint shades?

“You should’ve called me on Zoom,” you finally mumble, sitting up and frowning at the screen. “I can barely tell them apart on this small ass screen…”

“What?” Jimin looks kinda clueless and you realize he doesn’t have his earpods on him.

So you can’t see shit and he can’t hear shit. A wonderful pair.

“Nothing, just…” You trail off with a sigh when he raises his eyebrows, and try again, louder, “Can you describe them to me?”

“Describe? Wha…oh. You can’t see them on the small screen, can you?” At your pout, he breaks into a loud laugh, shaking his head. “A blind bitch, my God…”

In the middle of rolling your eyes, the serotonin emitting from the guy tugs your own lips up into a smile. He laughs with whole belly and smiles with his whole face, making everybody around him catch it too. Your best friend really deserves a life full of such happiness, you decide. He has a heart of gold, always so accepting and loving to all even if he ends up hurt at the end. Just endless happiness and smiles should be sent his way, and—

“Dude? You there? Your smile’s really creepy, please stop.”

Jimin’s words bring your attention back to your phone, instantly turning your – admittedly yeah, slightly creepy – smile into an irritated frown. Honestly, the contrast between you wanting him to always be happy and him literally asking you to stop smiling, though?

But also wow, what the fuck? Why’re you being an emotional sap out of nowhere? He is a good person but also a very annoying human being at times, did you forget? He can take a couple of falls. His life doesn’t have to be all smiles and giggles. What is wrong with you?

Shaking your head, you look at him. “Sorry, yeah. Kinda zoned out.”

“Will you focus now?” 

At your morose nod, Jimin shoves one of the shirts closer to the camera. Oh, this one looks redder. Wait, it is red! How the fuck could you not see it before? A blind bitch, indeed.

“So this is dark red,” he informs you before swapping the shirt with the other one in which you can clearly detect a blue undertone. “And this one’s really, really dark navy. Both are silk because that’s what I wanna do for my birthday. Now. Pick one!”

You hum in thought, honestly caught in confusion. Jimin’s skin looks really good when he wears shades of red. But both yours and his favorite color forever has been blue.

“Maybe we should go for something different this time,” you begin, nodding to yourself, “and not pick blue, Min.”

He exhales at your words and then huffs out a laugh. “Hey, we don’t always pick blue…”

“We kinda do, dude. Always.”

“O–kay, then. Let’s begin the twenty-seventh year of my life with a lifestyle change, then? Picking red over blue, it is.”

You nod with a snort, peeking at your laptop to see if the spell-checker has finished its job yet. It hasn't, dumb slow fucker.

“Hey, uh,” Jimin continues to talk even as you have placed your phone flat on the table, with the camera now capturing half of your double chin and the ceiling, “this isn’t about Yoongi, is it?”

What?

Wide-eyed and panicked, you immediately pick the device back up to stare at your best friend in horror. Only to find him attempting to stifle his laughter. Your eyes narrow at him sharply.

“It wasn’t, but now it just might be…”

“Um—”

“Jimin, why is he invited?”

“My entire office is the reason why the party is even happening. Can’t skip Yoongi for you, dude, that’ll look bad.”

With his eyes sparkling and lips trembling with barely contained mirth, Jimin looks so giddy about this conversation, you wanna throw a brick at his head. 

Ever since you met Min Yoongi at the godawful welcome dinner Jimin’s company threw for him, the guy has floated around you with hearts in eyes every occasion he gets. And Jimin, naturally, loves to drive you insane about it whenever he can. Which is basically all the time.

“Are you planning my murder in your head?” he teases, waggling his eyebrows as he walks around the store to get to the cash counter. “He’s not even that bad, you’re just stubborn…”

“Not bad?” You groan out loud, shaking your head in misery. “Jimin, that guy is scary.”

“He just likes you a lot, babe! And wants you to like him back!”

“Which is scary!”

He frowns at you. “That is a discussion for your therapist. All I want is for you to be there at the party. If you bump into Yoongi and he tries to ask you out again, just tell him you’re dating me.”

“No.” You roll your eyes. “That sort of a lie feels immoral, and outside of my social anxiety and commitment phobia, I’m actually a good person.”

“Please,” Jimin scoffs. “Half my office thinks you and I are a thing, anyways.”

In the middle of scoffing back at him, you stop and do a double take. “Hold the fuck up. Half your office thinks”—you pause to lean in closer to the screen and squint at him—“what?”

“That I’m dating you. And it usually works out in my favor. I can get out of a lot of awkward situations because people assume that I’m not single.”

He is smirking at you, while your head is about to explode. 

“Park Jimin. Why have you not corrected the rumors?”

“I just told you! They don’t push me into unnecessary social stuff because they assume I’m not single.”

“Not single because of whom, though?” Your voice has turned pitchy and squeaky. “Me? Are you insane?” You vehemently shake your head. “I’m your best fucking friend, Park Jimin! How dare you?”

“Well, my best fucking friend,” he says around snorts, “it isn’t that serious! Sorry I triggered your existential crisis, jeez.”

“It’s not an existential crisis!”

“No? Well, I’m still sorry.”

Not with the grin on his face, he is not. “You’re clearly holding back laughter…”

A wheeze escapes him at your words, leading to loud, hurried giggles that he fruitlessly attempts to muffle with a hand before quickly clearing his throat. To annoy you more with his stuttered lies. “N–no. These are – these are just my tears of guilt.”

“Park Jimin, I—”

“Hey, stop with the government name!” he finally declares, looking slightly more attentive as he finally stops laughing. “Alright, sorry. I’ll tell my assistant to send out a memo about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Not funny…”

“Come on, it’s a little funny. I don’t get why you’re so bothered. It’s not like you're dating someone, right? Or will, in the near future.”

“Or the far future,” you add with a grumble. “But it’s still not cool to let people make the wrong assumptions, Min.”

“Hey, if I can’t set you up with guys, at least let me have this?”

“How is that the same thing?”

“It’s not.” He giggles. “But it’s equally as fun.”

“Not for me, it’s not. Make it stop.”

“Or,” he grins at you with his entire teeth, “you could make it stop by accepting Yoongi’s advances!”

Sometimes it’s pitiable how badly your best friend wants you to date someone. No, it’s actually always pitiable. He’s been on this agenda ever since you broke up with your last ex, and despite all the in-depth conversations you’ve had with Jimin about why you’re not ready for love yet, he always somehow reverts back to pushing you towards some or the other dude. Every other week.

You sometimes wonder if it’s because he wants to break out of the kinda dumb but very important pact you blackmailed him into, some three years back. 

It was a simple set of rules you’d both agreed to, a few weeks after Jimin’s twenty-fourth birthday and a year after your break-up with your ex whom you never should have dated in the first place. You’d sworn off dating for the rest of your life, and because Jimin was hyper-focussed on his career at the time, he wasn’t too eager to find a girlfriend, either. So you both agreed to a mutual agreement of no dating – because it requires a shit ton of time and effort, only to cause a shit ton of emotional trauma in return – and made a promise to, instead, keep the other company, emotionally and intellectually. Completely platonically, of course, because both of you prefer hooking up with strangers instead of risking your friendship to scratch the itch.

Okay, so your words were kinda unhinged, something along the lines of, ‘If I’m not gonna date, you don’t need a girlfriend, either, dude. You’ve got me, and I’m easier to please.’  

Ugh…

But it still somehow worked out in the end. Neither of you have dated in the past three years, leaning on each other for support. 

So now, if Jimin wants to get back into the dating game, why not simply tell you that instead of trying to link you up with guys? Doesn’t make sense. Which probably means that this is not why he does it. Not to mention, that reasoning also doesn’t justify his supposedly harmless but also very meaningless flirting with you that never seems to cease. In his words, it’s because he needs to “cherish” the fact that you’re both single at the same time. Whatever the fuck that means.

Your best friend is a weirdo.

Right now, you just roll your eyes at his sly grin the way you usually do. “Fuck off with that, Jimin. My mind isn’t changing, when are you gonna stop?”

“Until it does change.” He gives a shrug. “Obviously.”

“Well, so then whatever it is that your co-workers see in us, why can Yoongi not see it too and leave me alone?”

Jimin laughs. “Oh, they think we act couple-y. And Yoongi’s blinded by his love for you, forgive him.”

You blink at his words. Couple-y? You and Jimin? When? Where?

What even are couple-y things, you wonder. You can bet you have barely kissed your best friend on the cheek, like, five times at most in your entire friendship of fifteen-something years. You and him aren’t too big on expressing emotions through…gestures. Sometimes, you even skip on hugs, instead fist-bumping as a greeting when you meet.

What about that sounds… couple-y? Nothing at all!

“Dude?” Jimin calls out to you, waving a hand in the front of the screen. “What is up with you today?”

You release an irritated huff. You both do not act like a couple. It’s a narrow-minded, backwards concept that people settle upon whenever a guy and a girl’s friendship doesn't meet the norms that the society has set up for them. Jimin’s co-workers are backwards.

“We don’t act couple-y, Min.” You look at him with determination. 

“O—kay?” He raises his eyebrows and you nod.

“Of course we don’t! Clarify this with your co-workers, okay?” you remind him with a frown, a finger raised and pointed at the screen. “And if they still doubt you, just tell them we don’t have sex. Nobody dates without getting naked, these days.”

Jimin bursts into loud laughter. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna believe me if I just say it, babe. Also, I don’t think that’s true? People still save themselves for marriage.”

You just roll your eyes. “Well, they’re stupid if they do. If I were to ever date again, sex is what would probably be the most integral part of my relationship. No sex? No label, bro.” You make a disgusted face. “So much effort put into tolerating a man in my life and not even a decent orgasm received in return? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

Beginning with small chuckles, Jimin slowly dissolves into loud giggles as you speak further, his phone shaking every which way as he sways with loud laughter again. You’re slowly caught by his infectious cackles, joining in with your own wheezes while he wipes his eyes.

As he finally straightens, though, he’s got this tilted smirk on his face that makes you vary. Because you almost know what he’s gonna say before he even articulates the words. “Well, if sex is what will make you okay about being called my girlfriend at my office, I can amend that anytime you want, you know? Just gotta say the words, ma’am…” 

“Yeah I'll say the words, alright,” you murmur with another, disinterested sounding exhale. “That you're a pervert, dear sir. And my ex, as of now.”

“Ooh, so you wanna show up at the party as my hot ex?” He waggles his eyebrows. “Fashionably late, dressed to kill and all that?” Then he quickly waves his fingers. “On the cash counter now, switching to audio.”

As his face disappears from the screen, you sigh. “No, bubs, I really can’t make it. I’ve gotta give this presentation tomorrow morning, real early.”

“Wow, your excuses just keep changing…”

“They’re all reasons and they all hold true, collectively, Min. It’s a goddamn list.” Placing your phone on the table, you tiredly rub your eyes. “It’s not even nine pm and I wanna go to bed already. How about I just see you tomorrow?"

There's silence on the line. A longer than normal silence, one where you can't even hear his breathing anymore, let alone the subtle rustle of his moving feet.

Ah, shit, you've upset him.

"I – I mean we see each other every weekend or so, anyway, so—"

"So you don’t wanna see me on my birthday?"

He sounds so gutted, your heart actually aches. But you still try, "We could have breakfast tomorrow, just you and I, and gossip about what all went down at the party?"

Jimin says your name in a small voice. "You can't not meet me on my birthday when we’re in the same city, dude… Do you remember the last time we celebrated any of our birthdays together? It’s been so long."

You do remember. It was his nineteenth birthday when you and two of your common, close friends had surprised Jimin with a visit to his college. He'd cried so much. You'd recorded it all on camera and uploaded it everywhere on social media, ruining his reputation – Park Jimin crying because he's not gonna be a teenager in a year. Wow, you guys were so lame. And also kinda cruel.

But damn, his last teenage year was… eight years ago, right? Holy shit, has it really been eight years?

Although it kinda makes sense because you and Jimin went to two different colleges in two different states. And yeah, you called and kept in touch but the visits were few and far between.

Wow. And you were gonna let go of the opportunity to meet up with him on his birthday because of – what? A dumb presentation? A dumb colleague of his that’s in love with you? Laziness?

Not anymore.

“No, you know what? You’re right.” You nod to yourself, smiling. “I’ll be there, Min.”

“Really?” Jimin sounds excited and hopeful, emphasizing how much he wanted you to be there. “Despite the Yoongi thing and your presentation?”

“Yep! I’ll steer clear of Yoongi or whatever, it’s cool. And I’ll bring an overnight bag to leave for work from your place, tomorrow.”

“Yes, that’s grea—wait…an overnight bag? You’ll stay the night? D–don’t you start work at, like, ten?”

Your eyes narrow at his stutter and the sudden awkwardness in his voice. “I actually have to give my presentation at eight, but… why do you sound like you don’t want me to stay? Look, if you’re planning on hooking up with someone tonight, let me remind you that your house is gigantic, Min. No one will bother no one.”

Jimin groans and you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. “Dude, you really need to work on your cockblocking tendencies. Remember that one time you stayed over and I had to cancel a threesome I’d planned? And now you’re interrupting my birthday sex? Not fair!” 

You gasp loudly, thoroughly offended. “Hey! You’re literally the one that emotionally blackmailed me into coming!”

“Yeah, for the evening!”

“Hey, I—no. You know what? You’re a menace to humanity and I hate you, Park.”

Jimin just giggles in response to your claim. “I absolutely know that. But really, thank you for agreeing to come despite everything, babe. It means a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, your birthday kinda means a lot to me too.”

Woah, that is way too much sappiness from you in one conversation. Jimin’s pleasant hum of acceptance doesn’t help the sudden mush you feel in your chest either, which is why you clear your throat and rush to set the balance right.

“Just make sure I don’t see your naked ass by the end of the night, and we’re good.”

“Hey! That was one time!”

“Yeah, one time too many!”

“Please,” he gives an affronted scoff, though you can hear a smile in his voice. “Don’t act like you didn’t actually enjoy the view…”

“I didn’t! Shut up! Asshole.” You scrunch your nose and squeeze your eyes shut to ward off the image of Jimin’s bubble butt from your mind. “I’ll see you in, like, an hour then?”

“You mean you’ll see my asshole in an—”

“Park Jimin, I will murder you—”

Foregoing a dress, you choose to wear a scallop trimmed, navy blue jumpsuit which is the perfect amount of dressy and practical – if a hassle to pee in, but you’re resolved to limit your liquid intake; you have an early morning meeting tomorrow! – and your feet are confidently nestled in a pair of sneakers to make things ultra comfy for yourself. A gift-wrapped wristwatch in your hand to add to your best friend's never-ending collection, you have barely stepped through the doors to his humongous townhouse when the bass booming from inside nearly shoves you back.

The place is buzzing like a nightclub with all the lights, crazy music and the horde of people. A well-ventilated, clean and fresh smelling nightclub. You’d honestly go clubbing a hell lot more if actual nightclubs were like this.

Just as you’ve handed your coat to the guy manning the coat closet – like they do at charity balls; good God, Park Jimin throws crazy parties – and taken a step into the foyer, the man of the night materializes before you out of thin air.

“Bestie~! Welcome!”

Wow, how many drinks in is he? Given the way he can’t stop smiling, it has to be at least five. Or maybe he's just running on an adrenaline and serotonin induced high. Won't be the first time.

Cheeks rosy and eyes glazed over, Jimin’s long hair falls into his eyebrows and diamond studs glint in his ears. The red shirt looks nearly black in the dim lights and fits him like a dream. Guy’s dressed to kill – literal sex on legs, and this is coming from someone that doesn’t even wanna have sex with him. 

While you make a show of checking him out from bottom to top, wolf-whistling slowly, Jimin bashfully rolls his eyes and places an arm around your shoulders. He drags you into the house, nearly snatching the gift from you with his other hand to deposit it on the giant table full of presents, next to the coat closet.

“Looking good, Park,” you tell him loudly over the music, stumbling despite your shoes because he is literally not letting you use your legs with the way he is hauling you inside.

“I know!” The guy winks at you over his shoulder, which just makes you snort. “Thank you for coming, babe!” he then yells near you in a loud voice, pausing suddenly to turn to face you. “You’re my bestest friend in the world. I love you!”

Barely able to contain your laughter at the glee on his face, you return his hug with the same amount of zeal as him when he squeezes you to himself. In a completely out of character move, Jimin then plants a wet and sloppy mess of kiss to the apple of your cheek, making you flinch. And then cringe in irritation. Because at least five people around you witness it with a hand to their chest. 

They're speculating and misunderstanding your relationship, aren't they? God, you need a drink.

Jimin, meanwhile, is grinning so wide, his happiness melts your ire away a little. His smiles have a way of always making your heart feel full.

"Happy birthday, bestie," you tell him while he loops an arm around your waist to drag you to the drinks table.

“Thank you, bestie! Now, because you don’t wanna be hammered, I’d recommend sticking to the champagne and pina colada fountain.”

“Wait, what fount—ohh.”

There’s definitely a fountain placed next to the champagne pyramid, and apparently it isn’t just an ornament.

“Jimin, this party looks insane,” you tell him when you’ve reached the makeshift bar in the corner of his huge living room, and settled onto a stool. “I thought you were forced into throwing this?”

Once he's gotten you a flute of champagne from the guy working the bar, Jimin finally leans against the counter and grins at you. You eye the bartending guy with raised eyebrows. That makes two hired helpers. How much has your best friend spent on this whole thing?

“Of course I was,” Jimin tells you with a shrug, still grinning. “But I won’t bludgeon my reputation just because of some reluctance. I want them to remember this night for the rest of their lives.”

Taking a sip from the glass – and wow, that drink is hella smooth – you squint at him. “Okay. Okay, that's on-brand for you. But what’s gonna be your escape plan when they end up liking it too much and bug you to throw more of these?”

That makes his smile vanish. “Hey, I’m not gonna let myself be convinced every time.”

“You’re a people pleaser, buddy.”

“I’m working on changing that!”

"Which isn’t really working out, Min.”

Jimin scowls at you and you throw your head back in laughter. When you look at him again, he’s eyeing your outfit with raised eyebrows.

“You look good.”

And you look down at yourself as if you didn’t know what you were wearing, which is kinda stupid. Why do you always do this when people compliment your looks?

“Yeah? Thanks, dude.”

Looking up, you try to smile. Try, because Jimin is smirking at you. And not a friendly, teasing smirk either. 

No, he's giving you the smirk. The rare and deadlier one. Gaze full of mischief, head tilted as if in contemplation, eyebrows lowered to turn on the smolder. Yeah. That smirk. 

This is the exact same smirk he gave you at age twenty-five, when he tried to convince you that if the two of you were still single and lonely when you turned forty, you could get into a lifelong friends-with-benefits relationship. 

This is the exact same smirk he gave you at age twenty-one, when he told you about the crush he had on you when you guys were sixteen.

This is the exact same smirk he gave you at age nineteen, when you told him about the crush you had on him when you guys were thirteen.

Yeah, those are some bits from yours and his cherishable but embarrassing and kinda funky past. Also, you still can’t figure out why he waited two years before confessing his side of the said embarrassing past.

Anyways, reverting back to his smirk – this is the kind of smirk Jimin flashes at people when he wants to flirt with them. You’ve been on the receiving end of it for more times than should be normal between two friends. But in his own terms, “flirting is good for health,” so it is what it is.

You’re used to this behavior, too. But – like. Park Jimin is an attractive man. A really attractive man. It’s a basic, known fact to you. He is also a massive flirt, capable of charming the pants off of anybody without trying hard. And though the fact that you two have been friends for a decade and half does make you a lot immune to his looks and his wiles – at the end of the day, you’re only human. 

Proven by the uncharacteristic and completely unnecessary flush that overtakes your cheeks when his gaze makes a sweep of your outfit from bottom to top. 

Which is why you are biting your tongue and ducking your head to take a sip of the champagne again. It's something you've practiced over the years – if you pretend he's not doing it, he can't force a reaction out of you.

When you meet his challenging gaze again, you’re ready with your smile and wink. "I know."

Jimin's eyebrows raise at that, and the sultry weight lifts off his eyelids. His posture shifts and the seductive veil draped over him leaves. Phew. Attack averted.

"What? I've been practicing self love lately."

“Yeah.” He nods, chuckling. “That’s the reason for your lack of gratitude. And not the fact that I said ‘I know’ when you complimented me earlier, right?”

You put a hand to your chest and widen your eyes. “Why, of course not. I’m not the petty one, Min, it’s you.”

Rolling his eyes, Jimin steals your glass for a sip. You’re about to protest, but a presence on his other side distracts you. He follows your gaze to – a gorgeous, olive skinned woman. Damn, she is stunning.

“Hey, guys. Happy birthday, Jimin,” she wishes Jimin in her melodious voice, but only after flashing you a full smile.

It’s rare for you to receive genuine smiles from women around Jimin. You wanna befriend this woman.

“Avni, hey! Thanks for coming!” Jimin accepts her hug and moves to her other side, offering her a seat between you and him. “Tara said she’d bring her sister.”

The woman nods with a smile, before turning to you with her hand forwarded. “You're the girlfriend, right…?”

Didn't Jimin say she's someone's sister? His colleagues' family members gossip about you two too, then. How wonderful. Your deadpan stare cuts to the guy – causing him to clear his throat with a grimace and step in. 

“Avni, meet my best friend.” He tells her your name, and recognition lights her eyes up.

“Oh! Of course! It’s nice to finally meet you! Wait, are you – are you two just friends and not…?”

Okay, now you’re pissed. And wanna hit Jimin. But you can’t do that on his birthday, so you pull on a fake smile and bat your lashes as you shake Avni’s hand. “Oh, no, we’re just friends. But, uh, I’d suggest not going after him regardless.” You lean closer to her, eyeing Jimin’s confused face with a smirk, and lower your voice, “He doesn’t date women, only fucks and chucks them.”

Avni’s jaw drops and Jimin slowly slides off his seat with the widest eyes you’ve ever seen him wear. Your smirk widens to match.

“So if you’re looking for a night full of wild, explosive sex and nothing more? He’s just your guy.”

“O~kay, that’s my cue to go say hi to Tara!” Jimin jumps a foot away from you two, shuffling away before Avni has had a chance to respond. 

Barely stifling your laugh, you wave at his hastily retreating back. 

Avni still looks a little lost. “What was that about?”

A snort escapes you at her confusion. “Ah, just a joke, sorry about that. It’s just that everyone at his office apparently thinks we’re together when we’re not. Just wanted to fluster him.”

“Oh, I see. You’re not a couple.”

You blink. What was with that emphasis? “I’m sorry… What do you see, exactly?”

She waves a hand. “I mean, I get it. It’s no one’s business whether you’re just fooling around, or whatever. Your labels are your private matter. I apologize for prying.”

Exhaling, you down the remainder of the drink and close your eyes. “I don't know how else to say this, Avni, but we’re not fooling around. Jimin and I are just friends. Platonic ones. We don’t like each other romantically. Or sexually.”

“Really?” Avni gives you a look of disbelief, which feels kinda offensive, to be honest. 

You squint at her. “Yes.” 

“Sure. I don’t get it, but sure.” She shrugs her shoulders and goes back to sipping at her pina colada.

But you’re left gaping at the woman because what is up with her reactions of disbelief? “What does that mean?”

Rolling her eyes, she gives you a little smirk with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, what's the point of having a best friend as sexy as him if you don't even get off to his face? Not sexually attracted to that piece of ass? Yeah, right.”

Woah, what?

Woah… woah. And now there’s a slideshow of HD pictures of Jimin’s lips in your head. Attached to your body. The thought of him kissing your bare shoulder is sending tingles down your back, what the hell?

Are you sexually attracted to him?

Sure, his flirting flusters you sometimes but that's just objective, right? Right? It has to be. You’d never actually want Jimin, even physically, for Jimin. That’s right. You could appreciate particulars because he’s a good looking guy, but he is your best friend and you would never ever want him for that reason.

No matter how many shivers the mental slideshow continues to send down your spine, and oh—he wears rings doesn't he? And his hands must have veins because he gyms like a freak, right? Interesting.

“You’re thinking about him naked, aren't you?"

“No!” you yelp your way out of your thoughts, deeply disturbed by how quickly they escalated. And also kinda spooked by Avni’s spot-on deduction. “I’m – I’m thinking that I don’t like him sexually, Avni.” 

"It's okay, hun. It's perfectly normal to fantasize. Whether you act upon it or not is completely up to you, but all that you think about? No one has to know." Avni looks at you with a very knowing smile, pats your shoulder, and steps away from the bar. 

Even as she has disappeared from your sight, lost in the crowd of partying people, her words stick with you. It's definitely not okay or perfectly normal to fantasize about a person you call a friend. It's deception and a breach of their trust in you. It's dishonesty.

Isn't it?

Damn, and now you're second guessing yourself? Just who the hell is this Avni woman for her words to affect you so much? A motivational speaker? A witch? 

You can’t let her get to your head.

No. This isn't you and this isn't the kind of friendship you have with Jimin. He's not just a friend of yours, he's your best friend. The bond you share isn't dispensable. The friendship you share isn't something you want to experiment upon. 

But then again, Avni did say no one has to know what you think about—

Okay, enough! You shake your head to physically knock the inappropriate pictures out of it, and scowl to yourself in disappointment. 

You know what you're thinking about even if no one else does, and you know why it is wrong. Jimin trusts you. He is honest, open and vulnerable with you because he knows you’re his well-wisher, first and foremost. And you will always honor that. 

Nevermind the fact this reminds you a bit too much of the beginning of middle school when you barely knew Jimin and had this huge crush on him. That was when you thought up scenarios of kissing him and got butterflies in your stomach about it. No sane twenty-seven year old wants to feel like their thirteen year old self. You need to get a fucking grip on this.

Exhaling, you’re contemplating asking for a refill, when you make a scan of the people near you, and – shit, Min Yoongi is headed this way.

All other thoughts are wiped right off your head as the need to disappear mounts up. This is the only guy in the entire world that terrifies you. More than your dad does, more than your ex ever could. And though he looks like he hasn’t seen you yet, he is heading straight towards the bar which means he’s gonna see you, any minute now.

Quickly vacating your stool, you hurriedly walk away, shooting off into a random direction to mix up in the crowd of people and allow their drunken, dancing bodies to guide you to another end of the room. 

When you finally exit the sea of human bodies with a sigh of relief, you look around to find yourself at the mouth of a prettily decorated hallway. Is this the one that leads to your favorite bathroom in Jimin’s entire house, the one with the clawfoot tub? Yeah, it is! It looks so different with all the fairy lights. Really majestic, too. You're gonna ask Jimin to keep it this way.

Walking down the few steps to the bathroom's door, you shrug off the last remaining inappropriate thoughts about Jimin from your head and, deciding upon washing your face, push open the door—

"Fuck, baby, just like that…"

—only to walk in on a naked, male ass bent over the gorgeous ceramic of your beloved clawfoot. While some girl, seated in the bathtub for some ungodly reason, is sucking his soul out of his dick. Who the heck is getting head in your precious bathtub?

Wait…

The shirt on the guy’s back is so dark red, it looks almost black. It’s gorgeous, it compliments the guy’s skin, it fits him like a dream. It’s perfect. It’s also the shirt you helped your best friend buy today.

“What the fuck? Jimin!” you shriek, slapping a hand over your eyes and turning on your heels. 

A loud yelp and a feminine gasp echo around the space, after which Jimin yells out your name. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“No – no, what the hell are you doing here?” you complain to him in a louder yell. 

Some shuffling and whispers later, a girl scrambles past you. Then a hand grips onto your forearm to spin you around. Jimin’s angry face is looming over yours, cheeks tomato red and hair a mess. If you could be objective about his looks without wanting to pummel him to death, right now, you would say he looks really good. But you’re not.

Because how dare he flash his naked ass to you when you were going through your very bizarre crisis with all these indecent thoughts about his hands and lips? What if you start to think about his ass, too? 

“Why didn’t you just leave?” he hisses at you, eyes narrowed and body so close to yours, his citrusy fragrance saturates your lungs.

“Because you thrive on being an exhibitionist, you whore.” You scowl at him, leaning away and crossing your arms against your chest to avoid inhaling more of the citrus that is making your head spin. “This huge of a house and you had to get it on in the one bathroom that I love?”

“Hey, this is my house and it’s my birthday. And this area was off-limits for the party people.”

Was it? You have no idea because you’re not party people; ‘co-host’ describes you better. “You’re still a whore.”

“What?”

“Yes! I specifically asked you to ensure I don’t stumble upon your naked ass, didn’t I? Seriously, the disrespect, Min?”

Jimin rolls his eyes and rakes a hand through his hair, which – woah, he wears a ring in each finger, then. Okay, no, your mind needs to chill the fuck down, because this is getting crazily out of hand.

“I didn't know someone would come running in here! I left you peacefully drinking at the bar, how was I to know…hey, speaking of – what the fuck was that with Avni?”

Grimacing, you hold both your hands up in a placating gesture. “One mess at a time, Min.”

“You know what?” He grunts and pushes you against the wall with a hand on your shoulder. “Sometimes you annoy me so much, I wanna physically shut you up…”

What – the holy hell?

His lips are in front of your face, parted and wet, and his gaze is so fucking dark, you cannot tell his pupils apart from his irises. And he has a hand resting next to your face, forearm and ringed fingers lewdly on display. All of that accompanied with the cologne you are inhaling with every ragged breath? A throb begins to build up between your legs.

And yet you manage to whisper, “Fantasize about fucking my throat often, Park?”

He freezes, eyes slightly widened and brows slightly lifted, but his gaze falls straight to your lips. Wait… is he fantasizing about it now?

With that, all the images you'd worked hard to burn off your brain are back with vengeance. Fuck, and now you also know how he moans during a blowjob?

Fuck fuck fuck, you’re about to ruin your friendship with him forever if you don’t reel this in.

Why couldn’t he have just taken the damn girl up to his bedroom?!

“Or slitting it…?” you add in a conspiratorial whisper, doing your best to wiggle your eyebrows and pull up the cheekiest grin you can muster, even if you secretly struggle with regulating your breathing.

Jimin’s rounded eyes snap up to meet yours, and then fill up with humor. He pulls his lips together in a line, eyebrows furrowed in faux anger. “How about the former… followed by the latter?”

And just like that, everything is back to normal and you’re slapping him away from you. “I won’t even put necrophilia past you, you demented horny mess…”

“What? I take offense to that!” He is laughing, though, facing the mirror to adjust his hair. “While we’re on it, let’s not forget about the hidden voyeur in you.”

“Yeah, because voyeurism is the same as necrophilia.” When he raises an alarmed eyebrow at you in the mirror, you roll your eyes. “Not that I intended to watch you! It was an honest mistake. I didn’t know you’d be in here. Or that you’d be naked with the door unlocked.” You give an incredulous laugh. “What in the name of exhibitionism was that about, Min?” 

“I was in a hurry, she was unbuttoning me in the hallway!” He scrunches his nose for a moment before narrowing his eyes at you. “But you could have silently left?”

“I saw your butt, my corneas were incinerated. I couldn’t let you orgasm in peace after that, could I?”

A snort escapes him, and you join him in the laughter.

This is good. This is normal. This is what the two of you are about – no matter how tense or uncomfortable things get for you, you both always revert back to being two idiots that care about each other. Because you are friends. The best of friends who have no romantic or sexual attraction between them, but would still die for one another. You’re homies. Bros. For life.

When Jimin is done adjusting his hair and you have actually washed your face and touched up some of your makeup, he drapes a hand over your shoulders and walks out. Classic homie behavior, right?

You look up at his grinning face and sigh. “Sorry about the girl, by the way. You think she’ll come back if you call her?”

“Improbable,” Jimin gives a snort, but then he shrugs. “But someone else will. I’m a catch, babe. Don’t worry about me.”

He gives your shoulder a squeeze – and as you feel the metal of his rings press innocently into your skin, you realize it’s not him you’re worried about.

A pair of lips is traveling up your thighs, hot against your cold skin, lighting a fire up that burns in the depths of your stomach. 

You've never felt these lips before, but you know them – they are Jimin’s. 

The cloud-like softness and plush plumpness could belong to no one but your best friend's God given cupid's bow. You've spent fifteen years looking at them, sometimes to concentrate on his words, sometimes because they had a milkshake mustache above them, sometimes because they looked suspiciously kiss-swollen, and sometimes just…because you wanted to. 

Which is why even though you've never felt them before, you know them. You know how they would feel. 

This is exactly how you imagined they would feel.

Your best friend is kissing his way up your thighs, and it's the best feeling in the world.

Your eyelids slowly part to peer down at the guy, a hand reaching out towards his head to grip onto his tuft of golden, overgrown hair.

“Jimin?” you whisper.

“Hm?” comes a murmur back, making you shiver.

“Please…”

He wordlessly moves his mouth to the center of your thighs. Parting your legs, with his warm fingers adorned with cold rings, he runs his tongue up and down your opening twice, before latching onto your bundle of nerves. Your hands tug at his hair, back arching off the bed, and a broken whine escapes you.

“You like that?” he speaks into your pussy, dirty promises in his voice.

“Yes,” you whimper, widening your legs and pushing his face further into you. “More…”

“Mm hm,” he murmurs, now pushing two of his fingers into you and fuck, that feels so fucking good, you’re gonna explode. “Are you close, sweetums?”

The pet name stuns you for a moment, but you recover quickly and moan out a yes, unwilling to let the momentum of your build-up drop.

“I’ll let you come if you promise me one teeny, tiny thing…”

Why is he talking like that? You never pegged Jimin for someone that would struggle with dirty talk. 

Your peak has been disturbed again, but you indulge him with a, “Anything, baby…”

“Anything?”

“Yeah…”

And then he lifts his head up to flash a wide, toothy grin at you from between your legs. His mouth is coated in your juices, eyes are dark, cheeks are rosy, but that smile? Is kinda creeping you out. You hesitantly swallow. 

“Uh, Jimin, what—”

“Go out with Yoongi!”

What? “No!”

“Yes! I literally only agreed to do this with you to convince you to go out with him!” He’s pouting now, sitting between your legs shirtless, with his hands crossed. 

What the fuck is going on…?

“What am I gonna tell him now?”

“He knows you’re here?”

“He’s right outside!” Jimin’s eyes sparkle as he looks towards the door to the bedroom, and before you can stop him, he yells out, “Come in here, Yoongs!”

You shake your head vigorously, but can’t formulate any words. Something is lodged in your throat, and you keep mouthing the word no, but it just doesn’t fucking come out, no matter how much you repeat it –

No! No!

NO!

“Nooo~!”

You sit up in bed, ready to cover yourself up with a pillow, but – find yourself to be alone. 

Where is Jimin? Are you… clothed? You’re still dripping wet, thought, but—

Hey, you remember going to bed alone. You’d gathered your bag from your car, grabbed some dinner, and slipped into this guest room that you have claimed as yours in Jimin’s house ever since he moved in. The last you saw of the guy was in the living room, sandwiched between two girls and somehow humping them both.

He never visited your room.

Does that mean you were having… a dream?

That was a fucking dream? 

Jimin went down on you and then tried to convince you to date Yoongi in the middle of it? He called you sweetums? And used words like ‘teeny-tiny’?

What the fuck is wrong with your brain?

You collapse back onto the soft mattress of Jimin’s spare bedroom – that has basically been turned into your second address over the months – and cover your face with both your hands. You’ve got a presentation to give tomorrow morning and this is what your subconscious mind is thinking about?

The next meeting with your therapist is gonna be wild.

After the kind of evening and night you have had, the morning feels anticlimactic when your alarm shrills in your ear at six am. You barely got four hours of sleep and that too was riddled with dreams that you’d rather not try to recall.

You enter the kitchen, still in your pajamas, to find Jimin dressed in a formal shirt and pants, reading something on his tablet with a cup of coffee in his other hand. This feels so shockingly normal. Mundane, even. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Jimin laughs at your state, holding a fist out for you. “You look minutes away from death. Sleepless night?"

To say the least. “Morning,” you mumble in response, rubbing at an eye, and lazily drag your feet up to the guy to bump your fist against his.

"I left some coffee in the pot for you," he tells you with a smile.

He’s literally the best best friend in the world. You flash a dopey smile back at him, nodding in gratitude as you begin to move your feet again – but then your gaze really catches your best friend’s appearance. And decides to stay there for a while.

The white shirt Jimin has on is folded up to his elbows, and damn, his forearms have veins too? You never noticed before. His hair is styled away from his forehead, giving him a clean look that you can’t stop staring at. Has he always looked this good with his forehead on display? Has he always worn these hoops in his ears? You’re pretty sure he has. To both of those.

And yet you cannot stop looking at him in maniacal fascination, because scenes from that dumb fucking dream you had last night keep popping up in your head, uninvited. Ugh.

Jimin eventually notices your unhinged staring, glancing down at himself and then back up at you with a wary gaze. “Um, what?”

“What?”

“What’s with that look?” He puts his tablet aside. “You okay? Did I do something?”

You rest your chin on a palm and frown at him. “Kinda. I had a wet dream about you last night.”

Jimin spits coffee out his mouth and nostrils, sending the liquid spraying across the table. “What the—what?"

"I dreamt about you. It was sexual and—"

"You ever think – you ever think we need some filters between us?" His voice comes out high pitched. "What the hell, dude?"

“Unconditional friendships come with unfiltered confessions, shut the fuck up,” you murmur and finally move to pour yourself some coffee.

When you return to your seat across the breakfast table from him, Jimin is still staring at you, almost unblinkingly. You look at your mug and take a sip of the delicious brew, humming in satisfaction when the liquid immediately starts to supply the tired veins of your brain with some much needed energy. Which also makes you recall that Jimin’s hair was blonde in your dream. Damn. You haven’t seen him with that hair in so long.

This is when the said guy clears his throat. You look up to find him squinting at you, and narrow your eyes back at him. “What?”

“Did we have sex?”

Your face scrunches up in a scowl. “Why do you wanna know?”

“It’s my body, I wanna know what you imagined!” he states with his eyes widened and brows curved.

You groan at his words, shutting your eyes to shake your head. “Firstly, I didn’t imagine you naked, it was a dream. And secondly, I don’t even have to imagine because I already know what you look like, dude. You’ve given me a full-frontal numerous times in the past.”

Jimin gapes at your words. “Hey, the last time that happened was at least five years ago, when we all went skinny dipping. And everyone was high as a kite, I’m sure you remember nothing about my body!” 

Drawing another sip from the warm drink, you blink at him. “What is your point?”

“Well, I–I’ve built way better thigh muscles and more pronounced abs, recently.” He frowns at his leg, knocking at the muscle near his knee. Then he looks up and grins at you. “Oh, and I also have an Adonis belt now!” 

He looks so proud of himself for that, it’s as endearing as it is funny. You nod with a hum. “You’ve always had the Adonis belt, though.”

“Yeah, well, it’s more defined now.” 

Your mug pauses near your mouth. Why the hell is he trying to endorse his muscles to you? As tempting as the mental imagery is, you put a firm lock on it and instead tilt your head at your best friend. “Jimin. Do you want me to see you naked?”

Removing his hands from his abdomen, he stares at you, wide-eyed, looking horrified. “What? No! What—”

“Then what the hell is this conversation? Why’re you bragging about your body to me when I just told you I had a wet dream about you?” 

“I…” He trails off with a frown, looking into space. Then he nods at you with a grimace, one hand raised up in surrender. “I see your point.” 

You shake your head with a snort, draining the rest of the mug. The clock on Jimin’s fridge tells you it’s twelve past seven. You step off the chair with a sigh. “Hey, I gotta get ready soon. You’ll drop me off?” 

Jimin breaks out of his thoughts and looks at the clock above his shoulder. “If we leave in the next eighteen minutes.”

Nodding, you rush out of the kitchen. “I only need fifteen!”

© jimilter | 2022

links to be updated at a later date!

#bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin #park jimin smut #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #jimin x you #park jimin x you #bts imagines #jimin imagines #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #jimin fanfic #bangtanarmynet #bangtansorciere #btswritingcafe #w: otb #*mine: fic

[fuiabarcelos]

Supernatural (Taylor’s version)

Hello hunters and Swifties!

I love reading supernatural stories inspired by songs and I'm addicted to Taylor Swift, so I decided to recommend stories inspired by her songs.

If I find more stories I might think about doing a part 2 or an update.

1 - Speak Now: By @darling-i-read-it

“Based on the song speak now”

Info: One shot - 1100 Words

Warnings: “Hexing being a bad thing, weddings, Fluff.” - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Speak Now.

2 - Speak Now: By @bi-bard

“(Season 7, Episode 8) During a trip that was meant to be a vacation, (Y/n) and Dean are met with some very surprising new from Sam and an old face.”

The author didn't say if it's really inspired by taylor's song, I just deduced that it was. If I'm wrong, I'm sorry.

Info: One shot - 1695 Words.

Warnings: “Drugging, threats of violence” - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Speak Now.

3 - When I saw your face: By @seriesxwriting

The story of how enchanted it was to meet Sam Winchester.

Info: One shot - 2069 Words.

Warnings: “Drinking, swearing?” - Warnings described by the creator.

Song: Enchanted.

4 - I Remember it All Too Well: By @bi-bard

“The story of the two hunters that lasted far longer than they should’ve. Each chapter shows that Sam and (Y/n) were either meant to last a lifetime or fall apart at the seams. (I used season 11 as a reference for ages)”

Info: One shot - 4905 Words.

Warnings: “Break-up, unhealthy relationship, arguing, cussing, I made Sam a terrible person and I'm not sorry about it.”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: All too well (10 minute version).

5 - All You Had to do Was Stay: By @hellooo-tricksters

“When Sam jumped into the pit, you were devastated, you thought you would never get him back. Then he returns and he is not who he used to be, he is rude, aggressive and cheats on you. He goes, and after a year he returns at your door.”

Info: One shot -  2172 Words.

Warnings: “Swearing, a little angst and maybe a little fluff too.”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: All you had to do was stay. 

6 -  How You Get the Girl:  By @hellooo-tricksters

“ It has been 6 months since you’ve last seen Sam. And now he decides to show up? “

Info: One shot - 1627 Words.

Warnings: “Swearing, smut if you squint I think…”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: How You get the girl.

7 - Welcome to New York: By @d-s-winchester

An AU series, where each chapter is inspired by a song from the album 1989.

Info: Series - 13 Chapters. 

Warnings: “Angst, drinking, language, smut sorta” (Most of the chapters have no warning.)  Warnings described by the creator.

Songs: Welcome to New York, Blank space, Style, Out of the Woods, All You Had To Do Was Stay, Shake it off, I Wish You Would, Bad blood, Wildest Dreams, How You Get The Girl, This Love, I Know Places and Clean.

8 - Gorgeous: By @justagirlinafandomworld

“Sam Winchester ruined your life. And he might know it.”

Info: Drabble - 100 words.

Warnings: “Secondhand embarrassment probably. Maybe feel a little called out?”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Gorgeous.

9 - Paper rings: By @bi-bard

“(Season 12) After everything happened with the British Men of Letters and the return of Mary Winchester, Sam does a lot of thinking about his future. Specifically, his future with his partner.”

The author didn't say if it's really inspired by taylor's song, I just deduced that it was. If I'm wrong, I'm sorry.

Info: Drabble - 983 Words.

Warnings: “Mentions of torture” - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Paper rings.

10 -  The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me: By @bi-bard

“(Season 7) Sam had been struggling since he had come back from the cage. As his condition worsens, (Y/n) tries everything to help him.”

Info:  Drabble - 746 Words

Warnings: “hallucinations, past trauma”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Peace.

11 - Look at this idiotic fool that you made me: By @bi-bard

“(Y/n) finally puts their foot down with Sam. Sam trips over it.”

Info: Drabble - 787 Words

Warnings: “mentions of sex”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: illicit affairs

1 -  Head First, Fearless: By @swiftlymoniquesblog

“ “But you’re just so cool, run your hands through your hair, absent mindedly makin’ me want you” from Fearless by Taylor Swift!”

Info: One shot - 2048 Words

Warnings: All the fluff!  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Fearless.

2 - Enchanted:  By @d-s-winchester

“All I can say is I was, Enchanted to meet you”

Info: One shot - 1428 Words.

Warnings: “Language, fluff” - Warnings described by the creator.

Song: Enchanted.

3 - Speak now:  By @d-s-winchester​

“Speak now or forever hold your peace”

Info: One shot - 1305 Words.

Warnings: “None.” - Warnings described by the creator.

Song: Speak Now.

4 - Red:   By @d-s-winchester

“Missing him was dark gray, all alone”

Info: One shot -1048 Words

Warnings: “Sadness, heartbreak, death, dealing with death” - Warnings described by the creator.

Song: Red.

5 - All to well: By @the-winchester-pie​

Info: One shot - 2071 Words

Warnings: Angst?

Song: All too well. 

6 -  I’d Say I Love You Even at Your Darkest: By @bi-bard

“Doubt and guilt creeps in and convinces Dean to run for the hills. (Y/n) refuses to let Dean believe that they would ever be happier without him.”

Info: One shot - 1838 Words.

Warnings: “Self-doubt, arguing, cussing”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Forever winter.

7 - Style:  By @hellooo-tricksters

“Dean and the reader are in a no strings attached relationship since they met on a hunt. It passionate, steamy and complicated, but they keep returning on the same path, not matter which road they take.”

Info: One shot - 1869 Words.

Warnings: “Slight smut, mainly mentioning of it, maybe swearing, cheating?”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator. 

Song: Style.  

8 -  Dorothea: By @imaginestuffs

“Dean “doesn’t like” your music, or so he says.”

Info: Drabble - 913 Words.

Warnings: “ A few curse words I believe, and fluff!!”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Dorothea.

9 - Bloodmoonlit: By @moonlightspencie

“ Six years of friendship with more simmering beneath the surface. They thought they had no chance (but that’s romance).”

Info: One shot - 5400 Words.  

Warnings: “Drinking (a lot of it tbh), both of em being massive dorks, 18+ pls bc it gets mildly spicy at the end.”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Glitch.

1 -  I'll Let You In: By @bi-bard

“(Season 7 + 9) After gaining his memory back, Castiel has to leave to go help the Winchesters. (Y/n) promises to leave the door open to him. They weren’t expecting him to actually come back.”

Info: One shot - 2490 Words.

Warnings: “Mentions of death”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: That’s When.

2 - Shake it off: By @kaz2y5-imagines

Dean and Sam find you and Castiel dancing "Shake it off" in the bunker.

Info: One shot - 1696 Words.

Warnings: None?

Song: Shake it off.

3 - Bad blood:  By @hellooo-tricksters

“Castiel finds the reader after they broke up 3 months ago. It was ugly, hard and painful, but now, now she works for Crowley. She’s a demon and she’s got all the right ways to show him what he did to her. He’ll pay.”

Info: One shot - 1439 Words.

Warnings: “Swearing, torture...slightly… Demon!Reader”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Bad blood.

 4 - My lover:  By @swiftlymoniquesblog

Info: Drabble - 574 Words.

Warnings: Fluff, slight mention of relationship doubts

Song: Lover.

5 -  I'm setting off, but not without my muse: By @bi-bard

“ Monsters are known for terrifying people. Some monsters even scare themselves.”

Info: One shot - 1575 Words. 

Warnings: “Character death, angst, suicide (seriously, read with caution)”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: The lakes.

6 -  And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were talking to me now: By @bi-bard​

“ (Y/n) had grown up with the Winchesters, but Castiel was the one who really took on a father role over the years. (Y/n) has to cope with losing him and having someone else claim to be his kid.”

Info: Drabble - 866 words

Warnings: “Mentions of death, grieving, Child!Reader”  - Warnings and summary described by the creator.

Song: Marjorie.

7 - Safe and sound:  By @d-s-winchester

Info: One shot - 1231 Words.

Warnings: None  - Warnings described by the creator.

Song: Safe and sound.

If you guys know of more supernatural stories inspired by taylow swift songs, let me know as I might put them in part 2/update.

Enjoy the stories!

To the writers: You are amazing!

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural x reader #sam winchesterxreader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x you #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #taylor swift #the eras tour #fanfic rec #fic rec #recs

[naayewolf]

“There There, Kitty” Kokushibo x Muzan Daughter!Reader [Smut]

Summary:

You are Muzan’s Demon Daughter, and he has ordered the top 3 uppermoons To be your personal servants. You decide to turn them into your personal lap dogs. 

*Might make this a whole book with different context*

*Uppermoon/Muzan Jackson’s impressions of y/n

Akaza: Wants to be stronger than her, they spar all the time even though y/n always wins.

Douma: Finds her VERY entertaining. Basically her girlfriend [In the sister sense]

Kokushibo: Follows her EVERY command~

Muzan: Loves her, gives her secondhand control over the top 3 uppermoons as a gift.

TW: 

Dubcon, Dominant reader, size difference, Loss of virginity, abuse of power,  rough riding,, bondage [tentacles daki style],  blowjobs, milking, lipstick play [It’ll make sense] Sado/masochism, bedpress, master/servant[pet] dynamics, degradation

You sit with a makeup brush in your hands, your eyes colorful shades of yellow and pink, your lips are blood red. Your hands work on Douma’s face, spreading blue powder across his cheeks. “Blue really suits your skin tone Douma!” You smile, putting glue on a jewel to place it under his eye. 

He squeals with joy in a high pitch, glad for the compliment. “You're the makeup artist, y/n!” He uses his blood art to make an ice mirror to see himself. He squeals louder than before and hugs the air out of you. “It’s perfect! I wasn’t sure at first, but you truly work magic y/n!” 

You Give him a closed eye smile, opening them again when you catch the aura of your other pets Akaza and ... Kokushibo. 

They both enter the room, Akaza throwing the door open unknowing of your presence. “DOUMA WHERE IS MY- What the actual f u c k ..” His eyes go wide at Douma,  him uncaring of you being here. Kokushibo on the other hand bows to the ground as if you were your Dad.

“Forgive us Master, we were unaware you were- tending to our fellow moon, forgive us for intruding.” He shuts his middle and bottom pair of eyes, looking at you through the top pair. You let out a giggle pulling his head to a sitting position with a tendril from your back. 

“It’s quite fine. Akaza, please refrain from breaking Douma’s door from now on.” he doesn’t bow, only letting out a very unapologetic grumble. Koku gives him a quick glare and he apologizes a bit more believable. You stand motioning for them to move from the door.

“Kokushibo. If you’ll follow me, I have something I need you for.” He lets out an immediate ‘Yes, Master’ before standing to follow you out. The second you two step out Akaza punches through Douma’s head. 

“Akaza dono .. you ruined my makeup ..” He whines while sitting up. The yukata he wears barely covers his crotch, as it’s usually worn for a married couple’s first night together. [Honeymoon lingerie] He pouts bending forward, the cloth covering his groin falling forward almost exposingly “Don’t you think I’m pretty in this?”

Akaza’s pale face turns red from embarrassment. In truth, he’s jealous Douma had this much time with you instead of him. He would’ve spent it training his strength instead of playing dress up though.  Douma goes to lift the cloth covering him. He kicks Douma in the groin.“You Fucking Would!” 

*With Y/n and Kokushibo*

*Koku POV* 

Kokushibo is positively TERRIFIED. He remains stoic as always on the outside, but on the inside he’s screaming with a million questions. What did I do? Where is she taking me? Is she mad? Is she gonna kill me? Is she gonna get THAT MAN to kill me? 

You walk on, arms crossed in front of you, him behind you as a symbol of your superiority towards him. He realizes that you’re nearing your quarters. That brings even more questions.  

*Y/n Pov* 

You’ve liked this pet for a while, and seeing him so obedient at the moment he realized you were there made you feel special. You realize that he’s the type to follow orders without a second thought. The control you had over him made you feel- a certain way. You decided to see just how far he’d go to meet your demands.  

You lead him towards your room, bouncing at the excitement of the game you're about to play. When you get to your door you move aside ushering him in. Kokushibo turns to you again with all six eyes on you in confusion and concern. 

“Master-” He begins, shutting up when your small figure presses against his tall one. “What are you-” A black tendril shoots out your back going through his wrists pinning him to the wall and dripping blood onto the floor mat. 

You shush him, pushing your finger to his lips. “It’s okay, just .. go with it.” He knows he could easily overpower you, or at least push you off, but he’s afraid it’ll anger That Man. With swift roughness you have him against your futon straddling his body. His hands twitch around from the pain. He doesn’t know what else to do but beg, afterall he doesn’t even know what he did. “P-Please Master, stop.”

 You’re dumbfounded for a second before letting out a laugh. “Ah! The little demon is begging .. how cute.” You let out a breathy moan before rolling your hips into him.  He moans lightly which causes you to grin. You move down to line your face up with his crotch. 

He yelps when you kiss him through the cloth, effectively smearing your lipstick. You let out a chuckle lifting up to look him in his eyes. “It’s ok, there there, kitty. Just stay very still.~” You undo his obi making his kimono come loose. You swiftly pull it off of his shoulders. He whines with his hands being unable to cover himself, not that his hands would do any good to cover it. 

You gasp at the size of it. Koku must be half horse or something- It’s about 12 inches with considerable length. You move down, placing a kiss at the base. He stiffens but stays still, not wanting to anger you. If this was you when you were giving mercy, he’d hate to see you withdraw it. 

You trail up and down his length leaving marks of bright red all over his pale cock. You nip at his base before looking up to admire your work. His cock was dripping with precum and he was a mewling mess. You smirk moving down and putting his legs over your shoulders making him gasp. “Looks like l made a mess~” You move in leaving another trace of lipstick on his shaft. You inhale, enjoying the smell of him in such a sinful position. “Let me clean that for you …” You take your tongue and lick from base to tip taking him in your mouth relishing in the taste of his precum. 

You bob your head, closing your eyes to focus on task. He begins to moan out your name repeatedly like a broken record. His groans of protest long since died out, he moans louder than he really should have. “Ah!~ Master .. Y/n please s- ngh .. slow down.” His requests are met with deaf ears, as you only increase your speed. 

His release hits you both hard, as when he feels the blood in his body move to his cock all at once. He thrusts his hips up into your mouth making you take his full length. You gag and soften your throat, relaxing him deeper into your throat. 

You take him out of your mouth with a pop and move up to sit in his lap. You undo your yukata with a quick tug and pull one of his hands through your tendril, ripping his wrist open. You pull his hand up to your breast knowing the injury was nothing to him. “Here, play with them! See? squishy!”  He complies by pinching your nipples reluctantly before circling your breasts in his palms. 

You let out a light moan while lining yourself up with his tip. He panics, all of his eyes widening and trying to move himself away from your dripping sex. “Wait, Master dont!” He did want this, but his length was the size of your arm by itself and he didn’t want to hurt you. You smile, taking your hand up to grip his cheek. You take his moment of distraction to drop yourself onto his full shaft. You cry out and pain shoots through your whole body in the best way.

You use your tendrils to move yourself up and down on his length. He moans even louder than before, surely his colleagues had heard you two by now. He loses control and shoves you against the futon roughly. He becomes feral and bares his fangs pressing you into your sheets. 

He goes at unmatched speed making sure to pound deep into you with each thrust. You moan loud enough for everyone present to hear you, an orgasm hitting you into a heaven like state. He falls back keeping himself inside you. You move up, crashing your lips together. Kokushibo releases his seed deep inside your womb.

You both pant loudly holding each other for the little sanity you both have left. You let out a breathless laugh snuggling into his chest. “I’ll tell you one thing .. W-We are definitely doing that again Kitten.” You kiss his nape moving into him to fall asleep. 

He hugs you back being released from your tendrils. He closes his eyes and plants a kiss on your forehead. “As you wish, Master.”

#kokushibo x reader #smut!

[prince-liest]

Quick, Who are your favorite hazbin hotel characters 👀 and least favorite too if you have some !

Alastor and Lucifer are, hilariously, hands down tied for my favorite characters! And Angel Dust sits squarely in a special space titled "not my actual Favorite (TM) but arguably the one that I care the most about," hahaha. Vox and Valentino are also really high up there! Honestly, I really like a LOT of characters.

(Also Niffty is the actual BEST character in the show, no I will not take feedback on this—)

My least favorite is actually, um, Sir Pentious?! With a big fat caveat that I actually think he's very funny and often adorable, and I enjoyed him a lot before Cherri Bomb showed up, but most of his appearances being relegated to hitting on her after that kinda ruined it for me. Not only am I weak to secondhand embarrassment, but I've never been a fan of the tropey "guy tries to incessantly shoot his shot with a fully disinterested woman" joke, especially not when they started playing it a bit more seriously with his confession and kiss while, again, she doesn't even realize he's into her.

Conversely, I think Adam is fucking hilarious, so a lot of it boils down to how the authorial intent registers to me!

#personal #ask #anonymous #hazbin hotel

[silentreigns]

Japanise GP Reflection

I got a nap in so I will be able to put together a coherent summary of how I felt about the race. There was nonstop action which is always great. I wasn't bored for a single moment

How did so many cars make contact in the first lap, and nobody immediately retired afterwards? Well eventually they did but I was surprised to see a lot of them still racing for a few laps after

A part of me wants Checo to succeed because I really don't want that PR guy taking his seat. The circumstances in which PR has gotten a seat on the grid back is downright nasty. And I don't care if I sound bitter to his fans. He still doesn't deserve a spot back in F1. And another part wants Checo to not get anymore points as that will make it easier for Lewis to be P2 in the driver's standings

Also, another addition to my conspiracy (of the FIA allowing RedBull to get away with things) is whatever tf RedBull were doing, allowing Checo to come back out. Apparently, there's actually no rules against this? But I can see them implementing something afterwards so other teams don't exploit this

I'm so proud of Oscar. He's grown so much as a driver this season and he will only get better and better. "If you had more pace why didn't you just overtake on the track" because he's not trying to ruin his tires

Nothing wrong with Lando suggesting team orders with Oscar because he was the quicker one of the two 🤷‍♀️. It all worked out in the end

Charles had a race weekend where nothing went wrong. Well I saw a clip on twitter of Xavi suggesting a strategy and Charles turning it down. Good for him. I can't help but wondering how he's reacting to the streak of 4th place finishes though

Mercedes you need to get on your zoom. The task at hand is to finish P2 in the driver's and constructor's championship. Which means maximize the amount of points possible. Ferrari are still finishing races with more points than y'all are. Like they haven't made any huge mistakes since the summer break. Charles and Carlos have closed the gap significantly

Feels like I'm in an episode of the Twilight zone because another team's strategy blunder worked for Charles's benefit. It's usually the other way around

This makes me have more questions. Instantly, the audience at how saw that switching places would have been the most efficient. George's tires had already degraded a lot. So why does it take Toto, who's recovering from surgery and is not even there, to make that call? Get it together!

Y'all why does it feel like this team is too stubborn? They're not listening to Lewis! For the DRS strategy to work, they would both need some pace in the tires and only one of them did. I got secondhand embarrassment when Carlos called it out like omg...

Alonso seemed maaaaaaaad like we are seeing the cracks starting to show. I don't think that 33rd win is coming this season. But he was calm in the post-race interview so I don't know

Lance went front P17 to P9 and had to retire due to reliability. I just want him to score points again this is not fair 😔

Why tf did AlphaTauri not give Yuki the optimal strategy? If he had more pace, swap positions with Liam! I saw that he was in DRS range for a lot of laps but didn't get why they didn't call for team orders. Such a missed opportunity, and it hurts even more that it was his home GP

So like did Alpine give Esteban orders and not tell Pierre? That's so messy they should have held the positions until the end

#f1 #formula 1 #lewis hamilton #formula one #charles leclerc #george russell #lando norris #checo perez #carlos sainz #yuki tsunoda #oscar piastri #liam lawson #pierre gasly #esteban ocon #lance stroll #japanese gp 2023

[wallspikes]

Chapter 4

almost as the clock strikes 12 here is chapter FOUR. one whole year later. sorry. i cant expect myself to meet deadlines i make for myself. i think its like 3.5k words o7

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Gio, no doubt sitting in the ruins of a sand dune beyond the lengths of repair, and more than likely covered in a plethora of various bug bites, felt that he was building more bridges than he had burned in the past day. The little man hadn’t run for cover the minute he’d sat down to make himself comfortable, though they still looked ready to jump away at the first sign of danger. Gio guessed he could count that as a success.

The time on his phone was a little after twelve-thirty— Gio finished off the last of the granola bar and tucked the wrapper into his pocket. He peered down at the stranger, who warily glanced up at him. The expression on their face was uncertain, their eyebrows upturned in worried arches, their cheeks a blotchy red; Gio remembered they were crying while he tried to free them from the net. He suddenly felt bad for making them stand there. “You can leave if you want,” he offered, “I’m not trying to keep you here. B-But, that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate this, of course!” 

“I didn’t know if you were real or not, coming out here,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “My sister saw the bite you gave me and told me it looked like some animal, and I was sorta starting to believe her..?” Gio shrugged the feeling of doubt away and grinned, “So, thanks for talking to me— or, uh, standing with me. It's nice to not feel crazy.”

The little man shifted in their spot, awkwardly kicking sand to cover their feet only to shake it off again. Despite the dismissal, they still stood rooted to their spot, with no intention of leaving, it seemed. They moved to hold the peanut beneath an arm and instead focused on the sticky knots that matted their beard from the honey of the granola bar.

Gio watched them tug at their beard, wincing each time their neck jerked from a particularly stubborn clump until the secondhand pain became too much to bear. “Here,” he offered, leaning over to pull a water bottle from his backpack, “Have some water. It might help get the honey out before you rip off your beard.”

The stranger's hand pulled from their beard, their grooming interrupted as Gio reached for his backpack. They clutched the peanut with white knuckles and curled their toes in the sand, charged to bolt if Gio decided to make any more sudden movements. Gio offered a placating hand, his water bottle gripped in the other fist. “Sorry—!” He mumbled, embarrassed at his lack of foresight, “I'll move slower, promise.”

Gio could feel the little man's eyes intently on him as he carefully poured a capful of water, as though every little move he made was under the most intense scrutiny. He placed it a few steps away from his calf and quickly withdrew his hands, waiting for the stranger to make their decision. They considered the offering, then turned to the nearby underbrush; Gio could watch the wheels turn in their head as they weighed the benefits of freshwater against the safety of the bramble. Mindlessly, a hand reached up to fiddle with their beard, but recoiled at the feeling of matted knots. They turned to the capful of water again with a hesitant expression.

”You don't need to worry,“ Gio assured them, “It's just water. It’s a little warm. But I promise it’s clean, I’ve been drinking it all day. Uh, unless you're worried about germs, or something— I can't promise you it's that clean.“

The stranger stared up at him for a few moments, that same worried expression still on their face, and Gio waited with bated breath. He could feel the little man searching for a lie in his expression, and Gio hoped he wasn't falsely showing one. He offered a smile, friendly and hopeful as he tried to hide his nervousness. Thankfully, though, the stranger's scrutiny didn't last much longer— they seemed to come to the conclusion that they could tolerate his presence for a little longer if it benefited them, whatever Gio's motives were.

Gio watched curiously as the little man pulled the cap of water further from his calf and started to drink, cupping handfuls of water to their mouth with rapid fervor; they must've been thirstier than they let on. Once their beard was thoroughly soaked, they worked on tugging out the knots again, this time with ease. Gio grinned, satisfied that the man appeared a little better, but he still wished he could get a closer look at them.

His little guest still entertained themself with the cap of water, dipping their face in the pool, their peanut temporarily discarded at their side. Gio waited until their face was submerged to begin to move, slowly crossing his legs until he could lean his elbows into the sand and stare down at the man as if studying a particularly interesting insect.

When they lifted their head and wiped the water from their eyes, the stranger caught sight of Gio looming over them and leapt away, the capful of water spilling in their haste. They stood, charged to run. Gio watched their every little movement with quiet fascination. He absorbed every detail— from the messy stitches in their clothes to the pinkish sunburn that colored their skin. Their expression was tight with worry and their hair bristled on end as Gio’s eyes passed closely over them. Out from the sides of their thick, full hair stuck two large, round ears that twitched at every little sound. Gio exhaled — still awed by the existence of the little man — and accidentally rustled the hair of the stranger. “Sorry,” he leaned back, suddenly beginning to worry all this studying might kill them, “You’re just really cool.”

There was no response. Gio watched the man’s puffed-up fur gradually start to settle. They patted down any patches that persisted in a bristle. Gio sat back on his heels, reached to check for the time, and felt the weight of his eyelids double the second the number ticked on screen. 

Gio yawned, exhaustion beginning to catch up with him as the night continued in its standing lull. He turned his head up to the sky, past the tall bushes and the bamboo to stare at the stars, and sighed. “I should probably go home.” More of a statement than a suggestion, he reached behind himself for his backpack. “Are you headed home soon?”

The redhead straightened up a bit at being addressed, and responded with a quick nod. They took a few steps towards the bushes. 

“Cool.” Gio craned his neck over the bushes, then through their lower brambles. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for — a small, dollhouse-like structure beneath the leaves, or a glimmer of light? — but he saw nothing. He tugged on his backpack. “Do you want me to walk you back?” He tried.

They looked uncomfortable with the suggestion, slightly curling in on themself while they bared a set of awkwardly grimacing yellowing teeth. They shook their head for good measure, though Gio had already gotten the message. Disappointed, he nodded. “Well, what if we meet up again sometime?” Gio held out hope for another shot.

No harsh reaction immediately followed the inquiry, which Gio took for a good sign, though the long pauses of blank stares were equally just as unnerving. He held his breath while he waited for an answer, watching the little man thoughtfully square their jaw as their eyes quickly snapped to meet his, like they were searching for the source of an ulterior motive there. For some reason, Gio felt himself getting nervous — was he hiding something? He didn’t think so. Regardless, he did his best not to show it. 

When the little man found nothing in his eyes, they subtly let their jaw relax and rumbled an exhausted growl of relief. Their expression betrayed the sound, their brow still pulled tightly to their nose, upturned with worry — Gio had half a mind to ask if they always looked like that, though he was beginning to become more unsure if the question would be answered with a ‘no.’ But, even so, as they hesitantly shrugged — a response that could realistically be a polite decline, had the little man meant it that way — Gio was ecstatic. “That’s great!” He exclaimed, the nervousness that had seized him just moments before making way for a giddy feeling of enthusiasm. “What’s best for you? Should I come here, or do you want to start coming to me…?”

Shellshocked, but too reserved to correct Gio if their intention had been to deny, they slowly pointed at him. The man seemed fairly settled in his decision, though Gio was still a bit unsure of the agreement. “You want to come to me?” The little man nodded. “Okay, yeah! That works fine.”

He knelt on the boardwalk and leaned over the lip until he spotted the little red-headed man slightly tucked away into the foliage. “I live on Atlantic, if that means anything,” he grinned, pointing through the trees and bushes, “It’s two walks over, just skip the first one; the gray house is mine. It has our name on it— well, it says ‘Clark,’ which is my last name. I’m there pretty often, if you need anything. Or if you just want to say hi.”

The little man glanced in the direction he was pointing, as if to politely consider the offer before giving their answer — then nodded. Gio, hovering upside down over the edge of the boardwalk, gave an excited thumbs up, “Great! My family’s fine, so if you see them, don’t get too concerned. But, uh, I’ll try to find time out there at night for myself, so you can talk to just me, if you want.”

The man didn’t respond this time, their expression only tightening a bit — an expression Gio couldn’t quite get the read on that he would have liked. He left the conversation at that. “I hope you… feel better. Sorry, again, about everything.” A pause. “Yeah,” he added, “I’ll see you later… Have a good night, man.”

Gio stood, dusted off his knees and knocked the sand from his shoes, gave the tattered net a grim once-over, and had half a mind to break the thing over his knee — but, ultimately, decided against it after remembering the last time he was whacked from the recoil of a fishing pole. 

As he walked home, suddenly more aware of each footfall with the knowledge of the man who lived beneath the boardwalk, Gio let his mind wander to his family — how would they react to seeing a man a fraction of their size? Living, breathing, thinking? Would they take it well?

Should he even tell them…?

Gio let the thought ruminate. There was no guarantee they’d even see the little guy if he never told them about them. If the stranger showed up at their doorstep looking for a conversation, Gio was certain they’d hide from unknown family members, whether they knew about them or not — though, they’d probably appreciate it if his family wasn’t chasing after them, like he had. Gio shrugged to himself. He wouldn’t tell his family, to save everyone the hassle.

Plus, he wasn’t sure he had taken the news so well himself.

Sure, stumbling across the little guy in the gully left him fascinated and even more curious by the bizarre discovery, but he thought back to the feeling of the man in his palm… they couldn’t have weighed more than a few ounces — not even a pound — and when they stood before him for their mimed conversation, Gio couldn’t help but notice how pale and thin their body was. 

Gio slowed his pace as he thought. Was the stranger hungry? Sick? He wished they had taken more food, if that was the case. He could spare it easily— though, with the way the little guy struggled to carry their cargo after the hopefully- generous-enough offering, the issue seemed not to come in the offering, but in receiving. There was no way they could have comfortably brought more food home. Maybe he could bring some more interesting things next time he planned to look for the stranger again. Or, he could wrap a few provisions in some napkins and leave them on the little man’s doorstep, once he knew where it was. He just hoped the man was eating comfortably.

The idea that they might not be bothered him. He’d never seen a person like that before, but the fact that there was one meant that there had to be more — were they all so thin? Hanging so closely to the threat of starvation that their skin paled and pulled tight to the bone? He hoped not. He hoped his little stranger was just an outlier. 

Gio realized, as he found himself a few paces from his doorstep, that he hadn’t been watching his feet while he was lost in thought about the nutrition of the little man. In a heart-wrenching panic, he glanced back at the boardwalk, dreading to find any unfortunate soul who’d wandered into his path, but thankfully found nothing in the dim reflection of moonlight off the wooden slats. He sighed, and resigned himself to his screen-paneled front door — where he made sure not to let it slam behind him, or let the hinges squeak too loudly.

As his phone’s clock turned past one-thirty in the morning, he turned its flashlight to the floor, kicked off his sneakers, and softly found his way up the stairs, around the bend of the hallway and—

“Hey.”

Gio jumped, nearly dropping his phone, but catching it before it could make a parent-waking clatter. Shining his flashlight down the hallway, Nicolette poked her head from her open bedroom door. “Nico!” he hissed, narrowing his eyes at her through the darkness, “What?! Why are you even awake?!”

“It’s not that late. Plus, I heard you sneak out at eleven-thirty and wanted to know where you headed off to without inviting me.” Nicolette leaned against her doorway, “Were you hanging out with Monty again?”

Gio shrugged — it seemed as good a coverup as any, “Yeah. They wanted to sit over by the bay.”

“Why’d you have a net?”

Gio’s flashlight slightly faltered. He could feel this conversation twist itself into an interrogation as the moments passed and the questions became more detailed. It was rare that a Clark sibling conversation could last more than a few minutes without turning into some kind of debate, and it seemed Gio couldn’t save this one’s meager life. “How did you know I had a net?”

Nicolette gestured into her room with a shrug of her shoulders, “You’re not the only one with a window.”

He grit his teeth, “We were catching crabs.”

“What’re you?” Nicolette scoffed, “Seven?”

Gio turned back down the hallway to his own bedroom door and slid his bag inside before he whispered again, his voice exasperated, “Whatever! If you wanna keep talking, come over here. We’re gonna wake up mom and dad.”

His sister huffed, but pushed herself off her doorway nonetheless. She made herself comfortable on the foot of her brother’s bed and leaned her back against the neighboring wall as Gio closed the door behind them — making sure to give the hallway a quick, cursory glance, just in case.

Gio flicked on a lamp and shook some of the long-clinging sand from the legs of his pants — Nicolette fixed him with a studious gaze. He paused. “What?”

She narrowed her eyes, “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing’s going on with me,” Gio lied.

Nicolette ignored him. She pointed to the band-aid on his hand, “First, you come home with your hand mauled. Then, you wander off at night with a net, and won’t tell me where you went. What are you really trying to catch?”

“I told you already,” Gio shrugged, turning to rummage through his dresser for a set of pajamas, “it was a fly. And I was catching crabs with Monty.”

“Yeah, you know that’s not true,” Nicolette called his bluff, a triumphant smirk in her voice, “Plus, I can see your face getting red from here.”

She was right. Gio could feel his face getting warm, too. That always happened when he lied or started to get nervous. Usually, he’d find the chance to hide the pinkness of his cheeks before it got too obvious — his most common solution was to run away — but with his sister sitting so firmly on his only hope for safe haven, he’d have to resign himself to embarrassment. “Fine,” he rolled his eyes, “That’s not true.”

Nicolette perked up. “Okay… then tell me what is!”

Gio crossed his arms. He loved his sister, but he wasn’t going to let her strongarm him into giving up all his secrets so easily this time. Maybe he didn’t want to tell her. “Well, y’know, maybe I don’t want to tell you,” he echoed his own thoughts, “Why do you always need to know everything?”

She thunked her head against the wall, “It can’t be that serious.”

He shrugged, doing his best to keep his cheeks from turning red. He was lying in every way — not only verbally, to his sister, but to himself. It was that serious. “I don’t know. Maybe it is.”

“Ugh! Gio!” she exclaimed, her voice still a whisper, “Just tell me!”

He wanted to tell her badly. Gio took a deep breath, and he held it for a moment, trying to keep himself from spilling the entire story of the stranger right then and there — but, as he opened his mouth to exhale, the dam broke. “It’s a… little man?!” Gio could have shouted with all the pent-up bewilderment of the nights before, if not for his parents’ room just a few doors down, “Like, really little. I saw them and they bit me and then I just couldn’t… stop thinking about it! I think they live under the boardwalk.”

The room was silent. Nicolette fixed him with an incredulous stare, her eyes tinged with a softness of worry after her brother’s seemingly nonsensical story. “A little man…?”

He was pathetic. His decision to not to tell his family had been compromised at the slightest bit of pressure from his sister. But, there was no going back now. “A little man.” He implored. 

“Okay…” she started slowly, then cocked her head, “You're sure you’re not sick?”

Gio wiped a hand down his face with a tired groan as his cheeks turned even redder for a different, embarrassed reason. “Whatever,” he mumbled, and strictly pointed at the door, “Get out so I can go to sleep. If you want to actually listen, find me in the morning.”

Nicolette rolled onto her feet, resigning to let whatever tall-tale Gio was telling settle for the night. “Fine, fine.” She shrugged and pulled the door open, stepping into the hallway — but not without turning in a sharp about-face to leave her brother with a final threat, “Expect to hear from me tomorrow.”

He closed the door behind her, an unamused expression atop his still-rosy cheeks. With the quiet click of the door handle closing, he flopped heavily onto his mattress. For a moment, he stared blankly at the ceiling, an image of the little man forming in his memory to play back the motions of the night. He wanted to laugh. Sharing a granola bar with a stranger past midnight is a novelty story to begin with, but for that stranger to be a fraction of Gio’s own height was taking the story to an even further, funnier degree. 

He could feel his smile crack. It was funny. Gio quietly laughed to himself as he changed into his pajamas and began his nightly routine — silently down the hall, so as to not alert his parents, or possibly his sister again, who uncharacteristically kept her door open a crack as if to listen for any suspicious, brotherly noises. He thought of the little man in their home, wherever that may be, following a routine just the same as Gio’s as they prepared for bed. He hoped they enjoyed the peanut. And he hoped the chunk of granola bar would hold them over for a while, since it looked like a Thanksgiving turkey in their arms. 

He kicked up his bedsheets and slid beneath them, finally placing his glasses on the bedside table for the night with an exhausted sigh. Tomorrow, he’d have to find time in the night when he could convince his family to give him some space as he sat on the deck.

That was, if the little stranger even came to visit.

#borrowers #g/t #g/t writing #gt #giant/tiny #weld #gio #nico #oc stuff #writing #under the boardwalk mentioned #hashtag fan.

[oohnotvery]

Wherever Is Your Heart (Chapter 3)

A breakfast of toast and coffee helps soothe her stomach some, and an aspirin does the trick for her headache, but nothing can stop the anxious pounding of her heart.

She debates calling Mulder. Her brain tries to come up with a million reasons why it’s not as bad as it seems. Maybe he was drunk too and doesn’t remember much of it. Maybe she didn’t say or do all of the things she thinks she said and did. Maybe it was all just a horrendous nightmare, and she cabbed home by herself and then had a very vivid dream about trying to seduce Mulder.

Mulder.

Oh . . . god. Her one and only friend, her partner, her family. All of that, ruined in one terrible, mortifying stretch of evening.

Simply put, he told her no. Whether that was because she was drunk or because he simply didn’t want her, she fears she’ll never truly know.

For the millionth time since Melissa’s death, Scully wishes she could talk to her sister. To ask her what to do about this heartbreak, this humiliation, this rejection, this mortification.

How can she and Mulder possibly continue on after this? Every time he looks at her from now on, she’ll see his pity, his rejection, his secondhand embarrassment for her. Things will never be the same.

All morning, she debates calling him and apologizing. Really, that needs to be her first step. She acted out of line and if she wants any chance at salvaging the relationship, a properly worded phone call will do the trick.

But she can’t bring herself to dial his number. She raises the receiver three times and slams it down three more times, unsure how to do this. How does one even begin to apologize for sexually harassing one’s coworker?

She’s standing by the phone debating her next move when it rings. She has the receiver to her ear before she can psych herself out of not answering.

“Scully,” she answers, digging her nails into her palm nervously.

But it’s not him. It’s her mother, triple-checking that they’re still on for Christmas Day. The tears that spring across her eyelashes at her mother’s voice surprise her.

“Dana?” her mother asks after a period of silence. “Is everything alright?”

Scully sniffs discreetly and wipes at her tears. “Everything is fine,” she promises as cheerfully as she can manage. She clears her throat. “I have a bit of a cold.”

She cringes at the lie, sinking deeper into the unenviable realm of self-hatred. It’s unclear whether Maggie Scully buys the fib or not, and they spend another few minutes on the phone hashing out the details of who’s supplying which pie.

Towards the end of their call, there’s another long pause that makes Scully grow fidgety.

“You know Dana,” her mother begins gently, “you can always talk to me if something’s bothering you. I know after Melissa died, you not only lost a sister, but a confidante.” Both women fall silent, and Scully imagines her mom wiping away tears of her own. Her mother’s voice is raspier when she speaks again. “But you can always talk to me.”

“Thanks, mom,” she manages to reply, her voice pitching higher with emotion.

After that, Scully takes a break from waiting by the phone. She tidies up her apartment, fixes herself a second coffee, and flips through a few magazines. But her mind keeps wandering.

Maybe Mulder will call to ask how she’s doing. Maybe he’ll call and broach the subject first, telling her it’s all forgotten, all okay. We never have to mention it again, he’ll say cheerfully after a few below-the-belt jokes.

In the end, the phone doesn’t ring again. She starts to wonder when exactly he left. Was it right after she threw up? Or did he wait til morning? And when did it get too much for him that he needed to physically remove himself from her space?

Her heart cracks open at the thought of their partnership floundering under this new embarrassment. She does not think she can carry on, not like this. It’s one thing to drunkenly ask someone for a romp in the hay. It’s another thing altogether to say I love you. That’s the part that hurts the most, the baring of her naked soul.

She tries to put herself in Mulder’s shoes. What would she do if he had gotten drunk, tried to seduce her, and told her he loved her? Well, it would be a very welcome change of pace, that’s for certain. If Mulder put his feelings out in the world so blatantly, she wouldn’t have left his apartment in the middle of the night. No, she would have stayed there so that in the morning, she could reassure him of her love.

But he hasn’t even called or checked in. He hasn’t even bothered trying to tell her that all is well. The cold, hard facts to which she so faithfully clings are a painful pill to swallow: he’s trying to distance himself from her.

Sunday passes in a blur of headaches, stomachaches, and reeling thoughts. She stays up half the night nervously wondering how Monday will be. She practices her speech. She will apologize, because that must come first. She will then ask him to please forget it ever happened.

But every time she gets to that part of her speech, a part of her starts to fantasize that he stops her in her tracks. “It was embarrassing, yeah,” he will admit with a slightly goofy smile, “but I actually feel the same way.” A very secret, very private part of her starts to hope that this will all turn out for the best in the end. And maybe this was just the first horrifying, awkward step in their realizing their feelings for each other.

It is on that wing and a prayer that she enters the office on Monday. Mulder is already at his desk spinning a pen between his fingers. With hope and bravery twin companions in her heart, she walks up to him and clears her throat. He swivels expectantly and she watches his face closely for a sign. But he just looks at her the way he always does—kind interest, open expression.

“Hey, Scully,” he greets her, and it’s so normal she almost falters.

She swipes at her upper lip as her cheeks turn pink under his gaze. “Can we talk?”

He sucks in his cheeks for a minute and then stands, nodding. She turns and shuts the door quietly behind her. The room is suddenly too constricting.

He leans hipshot against his desk and she twists her fingers uncomfortably. “I wanted to apologize,” she starts, the beginning of the rehearsed speech. “For what I did Saturday night. As I hope you know, after almost five years of working together, it was extremely out of character for me. Although there’s no excuse, I was intoxicated and I’d really like to just forget it—”

He nods a little and before she can continue, holds up a hand. “It’s okay, yeah? No harm, no foul.”

He’s playing it really cool, which she partially expected. She holds her breath for a moment, waiting for him to say something else. It wasn’t that your advances were unwanted; I just didn’t want to take advantage of you, he might say.  

“Thank you,” she finally says when it’s clear he’s done speaking.

“Alright,” he says with an eager look, “back to it?”

She is dumbfounded, stunned into silence. That’s it? That’s all they’re going to say about the absolute disaster that was Saturday night? She was half-expecting him to at least make a bad joke. And at the very most, she was hoping he would admit that her feelings were mutual. In stupefaction, she just nods.

They get called out to Washington State later that day and Mulder is booking them next-day flights before she can even wrap her head around the trip. She doesn’t know how to manage close quarters with him after the humiliation of their weekend, and starts to wonder if she should back out of it altogether.

She’s in the breakroom pouring coffee when she sees it. A woman—someone she’s never seen before—pulling Mulder into a private conference room. He sits down in a chair and the woman leans onto the conference table beside him, her hips touching his shoulders. They look comfortable together. Easy. Familiar.

The woman laughs at something he says with a pretty smile and Mulder grins. Her blonde hair swishes across a designer blazer and Scully watches in horror as Mulder taps the woman on the knee. Her bare knee. It’s so intimate that Scully overpours her coffee and curses as scalding liquid burns her hand.

It hits her all at once. Whatever hope she was carrying that maybe things weren’t so bad is now gone. Mulder wasn’t just rejecting her out of gentlemanly concern for her state of mind; he was rejecting her because he has no interest in her like that. She humiliated herself for him. She tried to seduce him and failed. And he rejected her.

Their professional partnership, she slowly realizes as she makes her way over to her desk, isn’t the only thing that matters to her. It’s him. It’s the personal connection with him. And that is being ground to dust before her eyes.

Scully lingers in the break room for a long time, wishing she could hear what they were discussing, wondering who this pretty blonde agent is. When ten minutes have passed, she gives up and heads back down to the basement, feeling defeated and on edge. 

At five p.m., she makes her decision. She will not go on the trip. She sends Mulder a short email, embedding in it a lie that he will or won’t believe—I’m too sick. Go without me. She hasn’t called out sick in years. Not even during her cancer.

The rest of the week passes without Mulder. They barely talk. There’s no reason to communicate across the distance. It feels healthy, almost, without him here. He doesn’t want her in the way she wants him, and the pain of that realization is easier to bear when she’s not face-to-face with his handsome jawline and disarming humor.

When he returns to the office on Friday, as chipper and unbothered as he had seemed on Monday, Scully makes a decision. She will not pine for him; she will not waste time on love unrequited. It’s time to move on.

#x files #msr #msr fanfic #mulder x scully #dana scully #txf #fox mulder my beloved #the x files #x files fanfic

[roccinan]

How do you feel when you watch the spin off? What do you think of it? And do you like it? For me, I sort of like eps 1-4, the rest are just meh, I couldn't bring myself to care for the other characters, I tried. And I was very confused, what year the spin off?. It started off good and... Idk. All I can say is that Andres truly belong in the asylum. That man creeps me out. If I were Camille, I ran away the second I saw that creep. Lol.

Hello anon! I couldn't answer you earlier because I didn't get to watch it. But now I've finished it and, hum, I certainly have a lot of thoughts that I'll probably post later LOL.

For now, here are the most fresh on my mind. I agree with you- eps 1-4 were surprisingly good, last one was pretty cool too, ralicia supremacy. I was mostly just surprised I didn't dislike it. Can't say I loved it, or that it's my ideal berlin spinoff, but for all the "factors" against it that Pina chose of his own free will asdfasdf, it turned out surprisingly OK.

Spinoff takes place around 2013, according to Pina. Which messes with the canon timeline so much we'll just have to see it as a parallel universe where time doesn't matter.

I now call spinoff!Andres my wife. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. So unfortunately, I cannot slander my bride like that.

But I liked that he was still a freak. The show didn't try to make him a better person thankfully, but I think a lot of the reviews were complaining about him being an asshole or complaining that he was ruined for not being enough of an asshole, missed the mark a bit. The main problem, if we have to pick one, about him, is that the context around him is too shallow to take seriously. His speeches about love have no substance (and they actually did in lcdp) because the circumstances have no substance. He's putting romance above the heist because well, why shouldn't he lmao? There's no personal stake here, and it's not like he'll get capital punishment for getting caught.

And that "problem" extends to everyone else. Their motives and actions are just very shallow and There for the sake of being there. Like Roi and Cameron could have had a moving romance, but instead Cameron made me cringe very badly with how much she felt like Alex Pina's idea of "hawt gurl with sad past!!" And said "sad" past was actually really fucked up but the story didn't seem to think so!? It wasn't a tragic romance--it was a 20-something musician sleeping with a 15yo fangirl, abducting her, and then traumatizing her so badly she entered the asylum and ended up hanging out with berlin. Like????

I'll say I misunderstood Keila though. Liked her a lot better in the show than the trailers. But everytime I went "oh, I like her uwu" she'd do something that makes me GAG like inhaling Bruce's sweat or licking his spoon asdfasdf Also the part where she confessed her love for him after the snake bite gave me secondhand embarrassment. None of the love stories felt lasting, believable, or touching to me. Probably because there were too many of them and it was even more convenient than lcdp proper!

Bruce was different than I expected. He's insensitive, but not "dumb" like the character descriptions made him out to be. Same as Keila. Everytime I thought "I like him uwu" he'd do something like talk about pubic hair or cover himself in oil/water, instantly making me die.

Damian is Sergio 2.0 and also Martin 2.0, but straight and old. No strong feelings for him either way. But it was funny that Andres got so mad about sharing a bed with him, when he was willingly hopping into bed with Martin LMAO. Also ngl, it stung my little berlermo heart to see Damian and Andres sing karaoke and go on a lover's bike ride together.

Roi was my favorite new member. He felt like a real original character, and his relationships with Cameron and Andres were nicely fleshed out even if they both confused me. Cameron because the romance was shallow to me. Andres because Roi never told us how they met or why Andres took him in. Andres giving Roi advice on temper control is also hilarious. We'll just have to assume that Andres is willing to raise everyone's kid except his own. He even took that one boy to the bathroom asdfasdf

But overall, I agree anon. I just didn't care for the new characters the same way I did the old gang or the cormorants. Maybe because the stakes were too low or because they were always beautiful and perfect (except Damian lol) no matter the situation. I personally think the producers were trying very hard to create new stars with this show, so they aggressively showed off Pina's flashy new blorbos (cameron, keila, bruce, and roi) but you can't force popularity. This is also my conspiracy theory for the lack of Sergio- they knew having the profesor here would take too much attention from the flashy new blorbos.

Not much to say about Camille. Was hoping she'd be cooler/smarter than this, but what kind of smart woman would not see the red flags in Andres LMAO. Wasn't surprised when Polignac turned out to be an asshole either- man just has the face of a jerk. Was disappointed that they didn't have a threesome with Andres. And the smartest person was Camille's friend.

Lastly, SAME ANON LOL Andres was an insane stalker, off the wall crazy and so annoying about it too. I wish Camille would have slapped him in the end, but oh well- at least their storyline didn't end as stupidly as it could have. She got her money at least XD Hopefully she's not dumb enough to reunite with him (and if she's wife no. 4 we know it didn't work out already).

Does the show deserve a season 2? No. Will I watch season 2? Yes LOL

Main takeaways:

Romance 1/10 Heist 7.5/10 Pedro's face 11/10 New characters 2/10 (not sharing all of their backstories or why/how they ended up in berlin's gang was a major weak point imo) Story 5/10

A solid 7/10 if we don't compare it to lcdp.

#anonymous #berlin 2023 #will answer the other spinoff questions in my inbox soon! thanks for the patience anons! #大家好柏林是我老婆 #再见了冷酷帅大叔 #嗨，斗M美人受

[oneforthemunny]

oh my gosh i have been DYING to talk about vpr with someone

i’ve never had so much secondhand embarrassment while watching any tv show. jo and schwartz give me the biggest ick. i’m also so tired of them trying to push a sandoval redemption arc onto us when he is literally the devil

and why is everyone acting like ariana is crazy??? if my boyfriend of 10 years was having an affair with one of my best friends i would most likely be in prison!!

jo is the living, breathing definition of a pick me. and anyone feeling bad for her has never dealt with one, had one ruin their relationship.

sandoval redemption arc will never happen bc he's too fucking stupid to do what he needs to do (pr wise). he has yet to take any sense of accountability. saying "yes i fucked up BUT" is not taking accountability. you wrecked a ten year relationship in the most horrendous and disrespectful way. her dog and grandmother passed and you cheat on her?? scalped.

and as for everyone's hatred towards ariana? she came out on top bc that's what karma does. everyone wants to say karma is real and the universe gives what you put in until it happens to someone, and that's why those hating ass bitches will NEVER get anything like that.

not to mention- she lost her dog, her grandmother, her friend, her partner of ten years, her trust, her home, and so much more. had the world in her life, didn't get a chance to grieve bc of those brand deals (and believe me, while lucrative and fun, they're draining and demanding especially if you're mentally struggling). then the people who supported you are now switching up?? going back to him and shoving it in YOUR face that you need to forgive HIM???? lala and scheena... babe, all i can say is i'm glad it happened to ariana and not me. bc i would have gotten on ig live and slandered. and when i mean slandered, i mean SLANDERED.

i could rant about it forever. literally forever. they need to be studied by scientists.

also i would eat on a fucking reality tv show. andy cohen, give me a chance.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks

[kishimotomasashi]

sasuke + 8 (or 18 if you'd rather talk about something you like!)

Send a character + one or more of these questions

It's fine, I can do both!

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

It's deeply uncomfortable and gives me the worst sense of secondhand embarrassment ever when certain Sasuke stans take the Naruto political discourse too far and start bringing in real-life instances of systematic oppression into it; especially if it's systematic oppression they aren't even affected by themselves. I'll never say that analyzing Naruto for its political elements is unnecessary given that they're literally the driving force of the plot, but a lot of you could stand to learn to have some tact.

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

I wouldn't say I "admire" this relationship, but Sasuke's relationship with Itachi makes me the most insane out of all the relationships in Naruto. I know Tumblr talks about "doomed" relationships a bit too much, but I really don't have any other way to describe that kind of fictional dynamic that gets to me the most affectively. I love bittersweet and tragic endings, relationships in which both parties care for each other so much but there's far too much damage for it all to end in anything but ruin, or at least keep them trapped in a situation where they'll always be unhappy. It's that "the love is/was there and it matters but it isn't enough" sort of tension, that makes even the good moments feel heartwrenching. When it comes to Naruto, Itachi and Sasuke do that best for me, especially on Sasuke's side, in which Itachi has hurt him in the most unforgivable ways and yet in the end he still wants to love him, and he still wants to forgive him, because Itachi is just that much of an important figure in his life. It makes me so ill in all the best ways.

#Anon #Ask #Thanks! and [sobs] Sasuke still loves Itachi despite everything. guys. despite everything. and it HURTS.