#(and I don’t even like it anymore I just really like criticizing it. it’s fun)

[cha1cedony]

I have to analyze a multimedia project (in the form of another multimedia project) for a class… Should I do the most embarrassing thing ever or

[lilislegacy]

Okay, I’m so gonna get hate for this. And it will probably get about 4 notes. This is, by far, the most opinionated thing I have ever posted on here. If you can’t tolerate criticism towards Rick Riordan, the books, or the TV show, please keep scrolling. My goal is NOT to change your mind or start arguments.

I also want to preface this by saying that I love and respect Rick Riordan (even if I disagree with him on things and don’t like some of his choices) and fully acknowledge that he has the right to do whatever the hell he pleases with his own series. I also want to say that I love Annabeth Chase (both the book and tv show version) with my entire being and you will never find me being an Annabeth hater. She’s my girl.

We good? Okay cool. So here’s the thing: I’ve seen a lot of people on here saying things like “If you didn’t like the books, you just don’t know how to have fun,” and “The new book haters are just mad that they aren’t the target audience anymore,” and (my personal favorite) “Nothing in the books has changed, only the readers have.”

And while I see your points, and I respect you, allow me to show you something. Because of the 10 picture limit, I am only going to focus on one specific change: Annabeth’s view of Percy.

WOTTG: Annabeth is surprised to be comforted by Percy

Past Books: Percy is constantly comforting Annabeth

WOTTG: Annabeth is shocked when Percy is smart

Past Books: Annabeth often points out that Percy is intelligent

WOTTG: Annabeth thinks Percy can’t do anything on his own, and Rick communicates that Annabeth is always saving his ass

Past Books: Percy is ALWAYS watching her back, and saving her ass just as much (and Annabeth admits that)

I could put a hundred quotes in here. I could go on and on and on. But I can’t, and I won’t.

My problem with this new book is NOT that it is more goofy than serious. My problem is NOT that little things have changed. My problem is NOT that it’s just for fun. My problem is NOT that it’s much more childish. (And by the way, I’ve read PJO and HOO as an adult, so it’s not like I was a child when I read everything else and am now an adult reading the new ones.) I really did like and enjoy many parts of this book.

My problem is that the characters (especially Annabeth) have flat out changed—in bad ways—and we have no choice but to accept it as canon. My problem is that Rick, while trying to merge his books with his new TV show project, is changing the entire personalities and past behaviors/ tendencies of the characters.

I loved Chalice of the Gods. You know why? It was fun, goofy, and showed the characters that we know and love being happy and adorable. I strongly dislike Wrath of the Triple Godess because the characters—no matter how adorable and happy they might be—are no longer the ones we know and love.

My problem is that Rick Riordan fully admitted that he no longer considers the old book characters when he writes the new books. He is now purposefully incorporating his own personal mixture of the book characters and tv characters and writing those versions instead. Because of his desire to change and transform the series, I doubt he’s even read the original PJO or HOO books in years, which is why everything is so inconsistent. The old book characters—the ones who made the series what it was—are gone. And that is not my opinion. Rick fully admits that he doesn’t imagine them when he writes anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the tv show actors. I adore Walker and Leah and Aryan with my whole heart, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. But the fact is: they will never be exactly like the book characters. It’s impossible for actors to become the words on a page. They’re their own unique version! And likewise, you cannot turn actors into print. It doesn’t work! And why would you try? The books versions were perfect as they were. And the disney kids need to make the characters their own. The two versions can exist side by side, equally as wonderful, and still be gloriously different. We should celebrate the uniqueness of both. But instead, Rick is attempting to merge them into one. And in my opinion, it’s just hurting them both. And I’m gonna get real brave by saying this, but do you want my honest prediction? If he keeps doing what he’s doing now, the TV show is going to get cancelled and the books are going to turn into a joke. I so, so badly hope that this doesn’t happen! I have loved Rick and PJO for many, many years. I badly want both to thrive. But what is going on right now… it is not working, no matter how much we all want it to. And speaking as someone who knows people in the TV/Film industry, I am sadly not the only one who thinks the show is gonna flop. Which is devastating, because Rick Riordan deserves a redemption on the big screen, and the incredible actors deserve to bring this series to life in a new way.

I am not trying to force my opinions onto anybody. You are welcome to disagree with me and move on. I am not saying that I’m right and you’re wrong. If you disagree, that’s okay. If you agree but you don’t have a problem with it, that’s okay. In fact if other people have literally no issues, that makes me somewhat happy. And if you loved the book, I’m honestly so stoked for you. Feel free to just keep on scrolling, my friend.

But me? I’m sad. I’m really, really freaking sad. And I’m a little angry too, even if I don’t have a right to be. I can’t help it because I’m only human. But this is how I—and a lot of other people—feel. And you know what? That’s okay too. Because the fact of the matter is:

Annabeth isn’t the same Annabeth anymore. And Percy isn’t the same Percy anymore. And it’s not because they went through trauma, or because time has passed. It’s because Rick Riordan doesn’t have any interest in writing those versions of them anymore. And I think the comparisons between the old and the new show that fact pretty clearly.

[bivht]

Astrology Observations

😎Virgo moons are polite and respectful until you cross their boundaries. But people accuse them of being rude even when THEY were the ones put in a super uncomfortable situation

😎Aquarius and sagittarius placements are free-spirited. You tell them to do something and suddenly it’s an obligation rather than a choice and they don’t want to do it anymore lmao

😎Cancer risings and their low-key unhealthy relationship with food :0

😎Taurus is branded as the foodie of the zodiac but I think Sagittarius is the ultimate foodie

😎I like to see the moon sign as who a person is at their core. And the moon sign in your mercury persona chart is very insightful to how you express yourself.

for example:

Aries moon- expresses themselves passionately, perseverant, doesn’t give up easily, likes to keep things tidy, hard working, could be naggy, aggressive

Taurus moon- sweet and charming way of talking, logical, doesn’t like believe anything without concrete evidence, self care, words of affirmation, has definitive personal boundaries, slow down when you’re eating babes, when they’re toxic they’re some of the worst kinds of toxic

Gemini moon- domicile (home sign), real sweet talkers, witty, critical thinking skills on point, charmers, just the right amount of flirty, know how to talk themselves out of a situation, scatterbrained, PERFORMERS

Cancer moon- sweet, will remember your birthday, wants to include everyone, confused easily, overstimulated easily

Leo moon- humorous, dramatic af, will spread love to whoever gives them attention, gives their love to everyone, critical thinking not their forte

Virgo moon- domicile, polite, respectful, knows how to remain professional in awkward situations, hates the feeling of being stuffed full?? 7/10 full is sufficient for them, due to this they’re usually slim, “perfect” self expression, neat and tidy, expresses gratitude for every tiny thing, eats slowly, critical thinking on point, extremely private (esp. about relationships)

Libra moon- diplomatic, likes to agree, charming, soft and sweet but also vengeful, avoids confrontation, talks shit behind backs instead of addressing issue directly with person

Scorpio moon- opinionated, probably a coffee addict, death stares at people they dislike, private but not the same as virgo, virgos tell you things but won’t go into detail, scorpios just won’t tell you. so fiercely loyal, their charm is fatal

Sagittarius moon (detriment)- happy, seems like they’re always having fun, don’t take themselves too seriously, charmers, funny facial expressions, stuff themselves full. they DEVOUR food, tendency to overindulge so can be chubby cheeked, struggle to articulate themselves in a professional manner, hates being nagged, lacks critical thinking, they get bored easily so consistency is an ongoing struggle, can be flirty

Capricorn moon- logical, down to earth, realistic, charming, articulate, their smart little jokes, a bit reluctant to try new things but they will, loves feeling in control (more than anyone else), really patient, consistency is key, can be rude and dry, may make shy, insecure people shifty

Aquarius moon- they talk in a very self-important way, very recognisable tone of voice, an intellectual, research whore, likes to share their found knowledge with people, lecture people, full of themselves

Pisces moon (detriment)- ehhem OVERSHARER to the T, silly humour, a bit unreasonable as they don’t follow logic, poor critical thinking skills, either super empathetic or lacks any empathy, can be flirty

😎More of an assumption but Leo+Virgo (and/or taurus)= hating slimy and mushy textures like eggplant, okra, durian

😎Chiron in the 6h can be obsessed with hygiene and cleanliness. My brother has this and he will not eat from the same spoon or drink from the same straw as anyone else, not even his own mother. He’s criticized and scolded by his mother because of this

😎A mother with 10h mercury is scrutinizing their childrens’ speaking abilities and how they interact with people in public

😎Aries mars has a fit looking body

😎People with sun 1h in the mars persona chart can seem really athletic

😎Sometimes individuals with neptune hard aspects (esp. square) are accused of having a mental illness (bullied)

😎Mars square neptune is a really anxious placement. Their panic is so clear on their face. They get really nervous about things more than others. Their intentions are confusing and people find it hard to figure out what your intentions for your actions are

[xcherricutie]

➤ Messy

Vegeta x F!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count - 1.5k

Summary - Vegeta is a clean freak with anger issues and pent up emotions, and decides to take it out on you for fun.

Notes: This is my first time posting here. I am from Wattpad, so I don't know tumblr etiquette, apologies.

“Your habits are disgusting and you’re a mess.”

He would follow you around and criticize you for what felt like hours on end. It was enough to drive anyone mad, and he did it to you on purpose. He was a man on a mission, out to make your life as miserable as possible. That’s just how it was, being acquainted with the prince of all saiyans. It didn’t matter if you tried to avoid him, he would find you, and he would let you know of every flaw in your life. Almost as if he took a sick satisfaction in seeing you wallow in your own misery and insecurities. 

“Vegeta, her house is none of your business,” Bulma scolded with a harsh glare, slapping your discarded napkin out of his hand. You hadn’t had the time to clean up your living space before Bulma and Vegeta dropped by, unannounced. You didn’t mind surprise visitors, but Vegeta was an exception. Every single time he came by, which had become noticeably more frequent, you made absolutely sure that he could not find a single reason to complain or nitpick. You were simply thankful Bulma was there to keep her dog on his leash. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you forced through grit teeth with a smile, before your face relaxed as your eyes landed on Bulma. “What brings you here? You’re not one for random visits.” 

“Right, sorry,” Bulma chuckled, brushing some strands of her azure hair behind her ear, glancing over at Vegeta as he tip-toed through the specks of dirt in your carpet. Bulma rolled her eyes at the dramatic saiyan, sighing. “I need you to keep an eye on him. I don’t really trust him to be alone at Capsule Corp., and my mom and dad are out on vacation. I’ve got a big workload on my hands and can’t deal with him right now. I’ll pay you good, I promise.” 

You wanted to say no. You wanted to tell both of them to get out of your house and never come back. Babysitting Vegeta could have perhaps been Bulma’s most unreasonable request for you. He had not been on Earth for long, and yet had antagonized you more than anyone. You rarely even showed your face at Capsule Corp. anymore because of the man. And Bulma was your best friend that you visited nearly daily for years. She knew how much you hated Vegeta. 

And yet, when she pulled the wad of cash out of her pocket, you immediately found yourself agreeing to the impossible task. Bulma’s payments were usually unreasonable amounts, as if the stack of paper zenni she handed to you was less than allowance money for her. It felt wrong to take, but what could you say? You were living independently in the city - you needed any cash you could get. Even if it meant spending a day with the most annoying being in the universe. 

As soon as Bulma had left, it was not long before Vegeta started to act up. He almost acted like a prepubescent boy at times, unable to properly convey his feelings, resorting to anger to vent. You had even made a point to clean up around the house so he wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable, but some of the things he complained about were unreasonable. 

“The geometry of your living space is poorly designed, woman,” Vegeta commented as he stood in the midst of your living room, looking around at the furniture. You rolled your eyes as you vacuumed the carpet, tuning his voice out. 

“Nobody is stopping you from just leaving. You hate all of us, I don’t understand why you continue to torture yourself on this planet,” you muttered, unsure if he heard you over the vacuum. You didn’t care much if he did or not, barely having the energy to speak to or at him. 

“I’m waiting for Kakarot to come back to this miserable planet. But I’m starting to doubt he will,” Vegeta said as he placed his hands on his hips, searching for more things in your house to nitpick about. You had done a pretty good job hiding things for him to complain about. 

“Maybe he’s avoiding you,” you said with a smirk at the idea. You would not blame Goku one bit if he was avoiding the entire Earth because of Vegeta’s presence. Vegeta did not find your comment very funny as his head whipped to your direction, glaring harshly. 

“Then I would track him down and drag him to this miserable planet to humiliate him in front of his loved ones,” Vegeta sneered, lip raised in a slight snarl, as if the mere assumption were the most offensive thing he’d ever heard. 

“Is it really that hard to accept that somebody doesn’t like you and doesn’t want to see you? I really don’t understand you, Vegeta,” you stood up straight as you turned off the vacuum, turning to glare at him. “You antagonize people on purpose, and then get mad when everyone leaves. What do you want from us? Why won’t you just leave?” 

“My business is none of your concern, woman. I suggest you close your mouth and not utter a single sound from now on, unless you really want to see what antagonistic looks like. I could put you through a world of misery with words alone, I haven’t done anything to you yet.” Vegeta’s harsh eyes stared into your soul, as if knowing you weren’t going to listen. He had been here less than a year, and yet knew you would not stand for such nonsense. 

“This is my house! I suggest you shut up if you know what’s good for you, asshole!” You yelled, leaning closer to his face. His warm breath hit your face as he scoffed, looking down at you as if he were so high and mighty. He was barely three inches taller than you.

“I could destroy you, and this house, and this whole planet in a matter of seconds if I wished. Your empty threats mean nothing to me, human.” Vegeta smirked down at you. That was your breaking point as your hand moved on its own. Even Vegeta found himself shocked by your sudden movement as your hand left its mark across his cheek, its shape searing into his cheek. Head turned from the sudden force, Vegeta stared at you with wide eyes, as if to let his brain process the attack on him. You expected him to blow up. You needed to gain control, fast. You would rather your house remained intact by the time Bulma returned. 

“Wh-What’s with the surprised look? Didn’t think a girl could hit you? Bet you’re completely smitten, huh?” Your face lit up like a lightbulb, cheeks burning as you smirked, watching his every muscle movement. You didn’t even mean for the words to escape your lips, but as they did, you knew you were dead. “You want to kiss me so bad, huh, Vegeta?” 

You saw the blush bloom across his cheek, making your hand mark burn ever brighter. That was the first time you had ever seen an emotion other than anger or pride on his face. But the view did not last long, as you suddenly found your vision obscured, his large frame right in your face, his lips connected to yours. This was an unexpected development, to say the least. 

His touch sent lightning through your nerves as his hands uncharacteristically gently slid up your arms, gloved fingers brushing over your cheeks. His kiss was soft, as if to show you everything he had been unable to get across before, many emotions flowing through one small touch. That one small touch, however, began to grow more desperate as Vegeta grabbed your shoulders, firmly pressing his lips to yours. Your scent was intoxicating, and every little jolt of electricity to his nerves sent him spiraling through his pent-up emotions even more. 

It wasn’t until your palms were pressed to his chest, trying to push him off, that he broke from his much-needed kiss. You stared up at Vegeta in surprise, watching many emotions flow through his dark pupils, before he finally came to his senses. You were pushed away, although much softer than you would have expected, his warmth pulling away from you as he left you standing there. He plopped down onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions as he crossed his arms, avoiding meeting your gaze. Your eyes stayed glued to him for a moment longer, before you let out a silent scoff, smiling in amusement. 

Vegeta had not uttered so much as a word after that. No more comments on her habits or appearance, no more jabs at her life and home. He had sat silently at her side, stealing glances at her every once in a while as she read her book in peace. And perhaps it was the cleaner environment, or just something in him beginning to bloom, but you looked much better than when he had shown up. 

And you weren’t sure if it was just the sunlight hitting him at just the right spot, or if he just looked like this when he wasn’t constantly raging, but Vegeta had a different look about him, almost a glow. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought.

[scoonsalicious]

5.2 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, toxic plants, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 1.4k

Previously On...: Car sexxxxxxxxxxx!

A/N: Killer headache, not much to say tonight, sorry!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

He wasn’t sure how long the two of them sat there, Major’s head resting peacefully on his chest as they both strove to catch their breath. He’d worried that any additional sex he had with her wouldn’t have lived up to the previous night, and he was amazed that tonight had been even better. The things she’d said to him while she held his dick in her hands. He had no idea he’d be into talk like that, but he’d loved it, loved hearing the filthy words come out of her mouth as she talked about being ruined by the size of his cock. 

He opened his eyes when he felt her head move from his chest, and he moved to help lift her off his now flaccid cock. He watched as she reached her small hands down, pulling the used condom off of him and tying it closed, before gently tucking him back into his pants and zipping up his fly and re-doing his belt. 

“A little help?” she asked as she readjusted her dress, pulling the front of it back up over her breasts. Bucky carefully reached around to the back of her neck, finding the ties that kept her dress in place, and fastening them securely into a neat bow.

“Damn shame,” Bucky said as Major fixed the front of her dress to make sure she was fully covered once more, “to keep such beautiful tits hidden from the world.”

She snickered and playfully swatted at his chest. “I’m gonna need a little help getting up,” she told him. 

Bucky frowned. The last thing he wanted was for her to get up. “You sure you have to, doll?” he asked, running his hands up and down the sides of her waist. “I’m very comfortable right here, so long as you are, and I’m in no hurry to go anywhere.”

“No,” Major said, leaning into his chest again, “I’m quite content where I’m at.”

“Good,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “So, what kind of toppings do you like on your pizza?”

Major looked up at him, laughing at his question. “Pizza? Seriously?”

Bucky nudged her cheek with his nose. “I wanna know everything about you,” he told her. “And if I’m gonna keep seeing you, I need to know the important things, like pineapple on pizza: yes, or no?”

“Wow,” she said, “starting out with the heavy questions, huh?”

“This is critical compatibility stuff, sugar,” he laughed. “I gotta know.”

“No pressure, huh?” she asked him playfully. “Okay, fine– yes, pineapple on pizza.”

“Oh thank god,” said Bucky with a dramatic sigh. “We have a chance.”

They delved into asking each other the most ridiculous ‘getting to know you’ questions they could think of, and Bucky was amazed at just how easy Major was to talk to, how effortlessly the conversation with her flowed. It was growing late, but neither one seemed eager to move, Major still straddling Bucky’s lap in the front seat of Tony’s sports car, arms draped over his shoulders as they sat face-to-face. 

“What’s your favorite sub?” he asked with a grin.

“Okay, don’t make fun of me,” she said, smiling up at him, “but I love sweet onion teriyaki chicken, but with lettuce, cucumber, and just, like, a shitload of extra dill pickles, and then smothered in red wine vinegar.”

Bucky made a face. “That sounds disgusting,” he said with a laugh.

Major playfully pushed at his chest. “It’s delicious,” she countered. The tang of the pickles and vinegar mixed with the sweet teriyaki sauce?” She moaned decadently.  “So fucking good.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it, doll,” he said.

He felt like he was talking to someone he’d known his entire life, not a woman he’d just met for the first time the night before, and he knew it was too soon, he was getting ahead of himself, but he could picture spending the rest of his life with a girl like her, and being happy doing it. 

Back in the ‘40s, the white picket fence and wife with two kids had always been Steve’s dream, not Bucky’s. Bucky had been happy to go out, meet a new girl every night, and say goodbye to them before sunrise the next morning. It wasn’t that he never wanted something more than that, it was just that, with the constant threat of America getting pulled into the war in Europe, knowing that any day could see him drafted and sent overseas, he’d never allowed himself to think of it as a possibility.

But Major? With her, he saw all of that potential future stretched before him. 

Bucky’s phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it, preferring instead to ask Major if she was a dog person or a cat person.

“Either, really,” she told him after a moment’s thought. “But if I could only have one? Definitely a cat. They’re so small and snuggly, but also evil little murder babies.”

Bucky’s phone buzzed again.

“Do you need to get that?” Major asked. “Is it, like, Captain America calling to ask for your help in saving the world?”

Bucky snorted. “Hardly,” he said. “We’ve got official coms if he needed to reach me for something like that.”

“Well, okay, then,” Major said, leaning in to kiss along the plane of Bucky’s jaw and along his throat. Bucky groaned.

“You’re gonna get me going again, sugar,” he said as she sucked at the skin on his neck.

“Is that a bad thing?” Major murmured, and Bucky could feel the smile on her lips against his skin.

“Not at all,” he replied. “I’m just warnin’ ya, is all.” His phone buzzed yet again.

“You should check that,” she told him, taking his earlobe into her mouth and gently sucking on it.

“But I’m enjoying myself,” he said with a gasp as she nipped at his jaw. “I’d hate to interrupt you.”

“Who says I have to stop?” Major reached up and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. “Take the call.” She brought her mouth down and began sucking kisses into his collarbone. 

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned. “How are you so hot?” He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone while Major kept up her affectionate administrations to his body. Checking the caller ID, he rolled his eyes when he saw Lily’s contact information on the screen.

“Answer it,” Major offered. “I really don’t mind.” She reached her hand down and began palming him through his pants, all the while continuing to kiss and suck on his neck. 

Bucky swallowed. The last thing he wanted on his mind right now was Lily, but given that she’d already called four times in the last five minutes, he figured it might be important. So, he pressed the accept button.

“Hey, Lil, what’s up?” he greeted, trying to keep his tone casual as Major squeezed him through the fabric of his pants.

“Jamie, where are you?” she asked, foregoing any sort of greeting. 

“Uh, I told you,” he said, sucking in a breath as Major licked a long stripe up the side of his neck. “I’m out in the–” he had to suck in a breath when Major took his earlobe into her mouth and sucked on it “--the city,” he gasped.

“Well, what are you doing?” Lily asked. Was Bucky imagining things, or was there a trace of suspicion in her voice? But he honestly didn’t care. He just wanted to be off this phone call and focus all of his attention back on Major.

“I already told you what I was doing, Lily,” he told her, shrugging at Major, who gave him a playful, exaggerated pout.

“What time do you think you’ll be home?” she asked him. Bucky sighed, annoyed. Why should he have to report his comings and goings to her constantly?

“I don’t know what time I’ll be home, Lil,” he said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “You don’t have to keep checking up on me.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Major whispered in Bucky’s ear as she tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. “Very late tomorrow morning.” Bucky had to stifle a groan as she rubbed her chest against him. 

“What was that?” Lily asked.

“I said ‘why?’ We don’t have set plans.” Bucky wanted off this call so badly.

“I was just wondering,” she said, and Bucky could detect a trace of hurt in her voice.

“Listen, Lil,” he began, “I gotta go, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, Jamie.” He didn’t even wait for her to finish speaking before he hung up. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, now able to finally give Major his undivided attention. “Now, where were we?”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[thats-rough-buddy04]

After almost five years I decided to rewatch Voltron.

1. Because it’s getting booted off of Netflix

2. I wanted to do more of critical analysis of it now that it’s been so long since I watched it . Does it hold up? Do I view the characters the same as I used to? Trying to separate that fanon from canon.

3.I also wanted to see how plausible was Klance and was I being delulu all those years ago? Like I know of the art done by story board artist and stuff but just by the show itself, do them being together romantically make sense?

This is my season 1 analysis because doing it by season makes the most sense.

So season 1 was still pretty solid. The pacing was very quick and it was hard to digest what was going on cause it just was rapid shot of information. I think the biggest offender of this was the first episode which just everything was moving so quick. I feel that could have been a longer episode and it would have helped the flow of the first season a lot. Like they are on Earth for like 15 mins, and within that 15 minutes we are introduced to most of the main cast, already introduced to the first piece of Voltron, then boom space. Bring back 24 episode seasons especially if most episodes are 20 mins.

The main cast quickly got over being in space and you know having to pilot a huge mech pretty quickly which like if that was me I would be freaking out for awhile. Like it was maybe a minute and then everything was chill. Again everything was just quick pacing wise.

I still really like the fight scenes both with the mech and on foot. The animation pops off and it’s a fun watch. The humor for the most part was fine, like I didn’t think it was outstanding but I’m also not in the target demographic anymore. Like the simple joke about the sounds of a blaster was funny and it made me laugh. But there is jokes where I’m just like oh….. but they quickly move on from it so it doesn’t bother me as much. For Lance being the supposed comedic character I thought Hunk was funnier because Lance is not funny he’s mean.

With that Lance is just plain mean to Keith, when Keith has done jack shit to him. Keith will only retaliate after Lance says something to him. There was about one time Keith started it but who can blame him when Lance is constantly being a bitch. Which meanness comes with insecurity and it’s obvious he struggles with insecurity even if they haven’t really touched on that yet. Lance also almost dies multiple times this season which i don’t have much to comment on just that he almost gets sucked out of an air lock and Keith has to save him.

The Main Cast:

Shiro: His character arc hasn’t happened yet but the crumbs have been laid. I like him alot. I think how quickly he becomes dedicated to Voltron is believable because of how much he suffered in the Galran prison. Like he doesn’t want what happened to him to happen to anyone else. He’s the most serious out of the bunch but it makes sense since he’s seen what the Galra can do.

Pidge: I don’t much to say about her. When I was I younger I didn’t have much to say about her and I don’t have much to say about her now. Doesn’t mean she’s bad, I don’t really have much a a connection with her. I do really like the story line about finding her family though and I’m excited to rewatch that payoff.

Hunk: Like with Pidge I didn’t have a feeling either way for Hunk when I was younger but where that differs is that I appreciate him alot more now. That mini arc he goes through where he discovers how bad the Galra truly are, was pretty good. Him being the most scared to take risks then being the one urging the rest of the team to save the planet was a change of character but the was obviously the point. Also his relationship with Shay is super cute.

Allura: I adore her. She is serious like Shiro but again she had her whole race wiped out by the Galra, she knows that what they are doing is important. Yeah so she is bit tough on the paladins but she does it with the hopes they’ll be ready to save the universe. She is just a girl and I love that for her. The scene where she has to let go of her father for the final time is really sad because she is not just losing her dad but what seems like the last remnants of her home planet. I also just love her design, the pink is such a pretty color and suits her so well.

Coran: He’s funny, he’s silly. Still adore him, nothing can change that.

Keith: I adore this man. But season one Keith really doesn’t have much going on. Like he’s reckless and stubborn but that’s kinda all we know about him. His name is Keith, he was living in a shack, he’s good a flying and fighting, and he has a close relationship with Shiro but even that is shown for like a second in the first episode. I do know their dynamic is explored more later or which I hope so it’s been so long I don’t remember. I remember him being the more mean one but he’s not, he’s a guy and I love him for that. I also remember him being the super serious one but in reality he’s silly and goofy when he wants to be. He only gets serious when it’s mission time as he should be. I am excited to watch his full character arc but I can’t remember my opinions on it but I remember other people not liking it, so hopefully I do.

Lance: Lance is one of my most favorite characters ever. There comes a time in every man’s life where they must critique the things they love and now it’s mine. There isn’t much going on with him. He is there to be the funny guy which doesn’t work cause I don’t find him very funny. When his thing is to be funny it comes off as being mean makes it very hard to like him. I grimaced a couple times for what came out of that man’s mouth. I know he has a character arc but omg it’s so hard to like him at all season 1 for a character that’s supposed to be likable. That doesn’t mean there wasn’t moments where I saw the man I used to know but season 1 Lance very unbearable for the most part. I think I gasped audibly when he was like I miss Varadero Beach, cause I didn’t remember if the show itself said he was Cuba, I just assumed it was someone who worked on the show did. So I was like oh I’m dumb, it’s literally in the show.

Klance: For two characters that don’t have much going on this season, their dynamic is so odd. Like half their screen time is bickering, that Lance starts. They’re not rivals because Keith doesn’t view Lance as a rival, so it’s one sided rivalry. Then you think oh they just hate each other, but again Keith doesn’t hate Lance, it’s just Lance being a hater. But with that I can still see why people started to ship them. There were moments I was like wait…like when Lance asks Keith to save him after he gets chained to a tree. Keith response is a bit flirty to me and I was oh..wow. I see why people shipped them but I don’t see how they were thought as endgame, from just watching season 1.

I’m looking forward to season 2 but nervous for the rest of the series because I know the farther you get into the show the worst it gets. I don’t want to watch s7 and s8, there is no need to relive that. We will see when I get there though.

Also the fact it’s getting taken off Netflix is crazy. Like where is it going? Like I know it’s because of the contract with Netflix but I also theorize it might have something to do with the life action. If anyone wants to know where to watch after it does I can link it, cause trust I wanted to make sure I had a way to watch before it was gone for good.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

don't hold hands, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You're fucking your ex-boyfriend's ex-best friend. You also now own a condo with him and owning this condo has made you house-poor. Yeah, it's not the usual love story and it's not going to be one. Not until you paint the walls black, that is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mostly conversations and feels tbh; minor smut (fem reader, marking / scratching, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU; guitarist!music producer!Yoongi x novelist!reader - fwb / roommates-to-lovers

just a story about two people who shouldn't fall in love falling in love, I have plenty of nasty smut so this is a different beat for ya lmao

--

“Is it fun being tortured?”

“Not really, no.”

It wasn’t fair to be this critical but, as long as you didn’t let these words travel outside this room, it was fine, right? At least, you kept telling yourself that. Delusion at its finest.

“It’s so stupid that people enjoy sticking their nose in drama that doesn’t involve them only because their lives are too boring to have any,” you sighed, tossing your phone across your desk, letting it skid into a pile of post-its covered in scrawled notes. “All because I deleted some photos.”

Notifications were now blocked.

“Some people mistake privilege with right.”

You glared at your phone even though the contents were the offender and not the device. Rolled your eyes, knowing you would be coming back to a shitstorm, but you couldn’t take it anymore. There had to be a limit. And the voice beside you had been telling you to put the damn thing down and stop deleting comments one by one, but the stubborn ram in you thought you could just headbutt through the bullshit.

And that imagery was gonna end there, thank you very much.

Your forehead found the palm of your hand and you sighed again, suddenly feeling the weight.

“I’m never doing that again.”

“You don’t have to.”

Minutes passed.

Silence never felt so serene.

Then it was cut through by steady, slow acoustic guitar, the notes drifting out from behind you. It almost made you feel more guilty. Almost. How fucked was that? You, sitting here right now, staring at nearly bare walls and a table covered in notes and your trusty laptop, almost feeling guilty for the guy that had backed out of the joint loan for this condo in the city that you didn’t even fuckin’ want, but you had been too far into the process to not lose a whole lotta money and too angry to let yourself lose.

How ironic, feeling guilty for the guy who cheated on you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” was the guitar player’s response. “And you shouldn’t be either. For anything.”

You knew you shouldn’t apologize. It just felt like the thing to do, because you hadn’t been wholly right either and, even if you weren’t more in the wrong, you were still wrong, and wasn’t that fucked, putting levels of blame on a situation that, at the end of the day, was all said and done and left everybody bitter and full of scars.

The shitty part was everyone was on your case now and blaming you.

This was what you got for dating the lead singer of a punk band that skyrocketed to popularity on social media. Looked all elegant dark romance on TikTok and Instagram, just screaming and hate-fucking behind closed doors. Constant content to cover up the toxicity. And maybe it was your fault too, letting it get to your head that maybe you really were the beautiful, mysterious muse that the followers painted you out to be. You glossed over red flags – late nights, drugs and drinking, sleeping in rooms of girls that called themselves fans – all part of the industry. Nothing happened. Honest. But the greatest mistake was letting him tag you on Instagram. How cool was it that you were an author?

This bastard.

Not only had you given him some of your best quotes for his lyrics, but now you couldn’t publish those words as your own because this bastard would fuckin’ sue you for plagiarizing.

The guitar continued behind you, on the mattress on the floor.

So, not only were you getting crucified on social media at the moment because he had called you a backhanded bitch in his Instagram stories but also because you had deleted all photos of him on your profile and said fucking nothing. Silence to be polite and all that. He cheated on you, he was leaving you for some whore you had plenty of suspicions about, and, worst of all, he waited until you and him were finalizing the down payment for this expensive-ass-fuck high-rise condo – that money was out of your own pocket, not his, how convenient – and backed out of the loan for the mortgage. His reasoning?

You cheated on him first.

Hello?

With his former guitarist.

Hello?

Your ex-boyfriend had fired his former guitarist ages ago because you and him had gotten too friendly.

Alright, man.

You liked the guy, sure. Talked to him when he was in the studio and found you had a lot in common. Plus, he was crazy talented. Made most of the melodies, self-produced a lot of the songs for the band so they could save money, even contributed to lyric writing so they didn’t have to spend on that either. He even had a good voice, although sadly the band rarely used it. Your art of words paired with his knowledge of music made some viral hits. But then tensions rose between him and your ex when they started butting heads for no reason (there was a reason and it was ugly jealousy). Then arguments rose between you and your ex, but instead of breaking up, you buried yourself into writing your next novel to let the situation cool off.

Sigh, okay, call a spade a spade.

You were avoiding the confrontation.

He fired his guitarist and got a new one.

Then things were good.

Until they weren’t.

Of course, they weren’t. You didn’t solve shit, and he was fucking every girl that threw themselves at him behind your back. Good thing you had strict rules about condoms, otherwise you would probably have some lasting consequences right now. So, when the ground cracked and split apart from under you, what did you do?

Yup, this was the part that made you no better.

You found that former guitarist and fucked him.

Word travelled around. Word also travelled around that somehow you got someone to be part of that insane loan you got talked into. And, oh, shit, did things get messy once a certain someone knew who it was.

But here you were.

Feeling guilty.

You probably couldn’t publish for at least six months to a year because, harrowingly, your demographic was young adult – you had even relied on social media for self-marketing, fuck – and the half of a novel you had now had to be scrapped considering that so many of the quotes were now distressed in dark venues by the lips of an egomaniacal dick that you allowed into your pussy far too many times. Once was already too many.

Fuck.

You didn’t even want to live in the city.

It’ll be so much easier for me to get bigger opportunities. Don’t be a selfish bitch and only think about yourself.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to throw your laptop into the wall and break it into smithereens, but you didn’t because this piece of technology was currently your only chance of making money. Fuck. Me. Always talking about himself like he was only important member of the band, even though it was the other guys who wrote most of the music and lyrics. No one sided with you, obviously. This was their job and technically not their romance. They were sympathetic but not empathetic to the point of jeopardizing their jobs. Obviously, you hadn’t signed any contracts for royalties or credit. This was supposed to be your soulmate.

Soulmates weren’t so generous to give you pennies.

You’re being greedy and self-important. Oh, so you’re only in the relationship for the money? I’ll give you money once we make it big. Once we get it all, I’ll buy you everything you want. But you gotta help me out now. We’re starving artists, ya know?

You should have asked your parents for monetary help, but you didn’t. Your pride didn’t want to hear the told-you-so speeches for dating a guy they didn’t choose for you. You also didn’t want the arranged marriage appointments back in your life either.

So.

Trapped in white walls, post-its of false starts, and impending doom.

Dramatic, but you were a writer.

“Come here and sit down with me.”

Some part of you didn’t want to face him. It was really dumb. He was your new roommate now. You were fucking him when you were too sad to avoid it, and it was pretty obvious he knew. You were living off his money. Sure, he only paid for half the rent but then food mysteriously appeared in the fridge, bathroom necessities were stocked when they were running low, cleaning supplies neatly sorted into the closet, and all that other shit. None of that wholesale stuff either, but the nicer things normal households could afford.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that you cried into the soap during your shower last night.

All because you finally acknowledged it wasn’t one of those shitty bars that made skin feel like plastic but actually fragrant lathering liquid that you could put on the dense, not-falling-apart-in-one-use loofah that you hadn’t bought. You would have been satisfied with cutting coupons and living on the dregs of the bare minimum, but someone cared enough to not let you do that, and you currently couldn’t do anything to contribute and probably couldn’t for a while.

And that made you feel undeserving.

Maybe you were only fucking him because that was all you could offer.

Pathetic.

The guitarist called your name softly.

Like a beaten dog, you got up and sat down beside Min Yoongi.

He continued to play a melody you didn’t know on his black acoustic guitar. He hadn’t moved in all his instruments and equipment yet. You had told him he could have the whole living room for his studio. He had asked if you were sure and you responded that you were sure that you weren’t going to have anybody over ever so, unless he wanted a living room space, you didn’t want one.

“Shit always happens, you know,” the deep voice reminded you.

“This happening was of my own doing and now I’ve ruined my own life,” you muttered, bitter over a boy and hating that you were bitter over a boy.

A small chuckle. “You have to admit you had help.”

Stupid boy.

“Can’t be helped. Humans are animals of regret.”

It stung to regret.

The guitar playing stopped and now you were met with silence.

Don’t cry.

But it was so tiring to be angry. So easy to be sad. So easy to think, my fault, for being swept up in what he was but not who he was, for believing that you knew what was best when clearly it wasn’t, for being spiteful on purpose. For avoiding looking at Yoongi in the face because you were too ashamed to acknowledge what was going on here.

For being too afraid to ask what he thought of it.

“I regretted not stealing you from him sooner. Thought you were too fuckable for that loser from the first day we met.”

A strange feeling.

Skin prickling, glancing the that pale hand of graceful, callused fingers simply resting on the neck of that guitar, not looking at Yoongi’s face even though you knew it quite well in profile.

“That’s one way to make me feel better,” you replied.

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. Just being honest,” he replied, tapping his fingertips on the wood. “You are ten times too talented and a hundred times too pretty for a guy like that.”

You twitched. “Are you shitting on my standards?”

“Back then? Yeah, I am.” A calm hum, setting aside his guitar and placing his elbows on his sweatpants-covered knees, charcoal gray and worn. “Pretty clear you went full desperado for a guy that didn’t deserve it. Also, he ain’t hot shit like he thinks he is.”

Ow and what the fuck. “Fuck off.”

You felt movement and tracked his hand raising, spinning a finger around his temple. A brief glance and the details sank in. Long, windswept black waves, light cream skin, pointed gaze directed forward and not at you, pensive slight frown of pink lips. You looked away again, past his loose white t-shirt and to your hands.

You used to be proud of them.

They used to be able to type prose like no other.

Now they were twisted in an oversized, olive-green sweatshirt that you picked up from the sale bin of the convenience store for dirt cheap and they didn’t write jack shit.

You also hated olive-green.

Nothing personal. It just wasn’t your color.

“You’re a psycho bitch to put up with him,” Yoongi commented.

He wasn’t wrong. “I’m a psycho bitch all the time.”

“Yeah, and I don’t date crazy.”

You thought you would feel insulted, but you were past the point of caring. Also, there was something about the way his calm voice said it. Like he knew what he was doing. Huh. That was a silly thing to think. Of course, Yoongi knew what he was doing. He did it. He let you in his studio when you tracked it down and camped out until he showed up. He had listened to your psychobabble and didn’t back away when you pinned him to the wall.

This wasn’t dating.

“At least, I thought I didn’t,” Yoongi added, not touching you.

He fucked you too. He wasn’t a starfish in bed, that was for sure.

“I wanted to get back at him too, you know,” that deep, hazy voice murmured beside you. “That bastard turned my friends against me, stole my mixes, and cut out all my connections. Made me start from the ground up, alone.”

Yeah, you did know that. You helped badmouth Yoongi. In the name of love.

Shit.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

Ouch.

“And you shouldn’t be, ‘cause what’s done is done and being sorry isn’t going to change anything.”

You untwisted your hands from each other, realizing your knuckles were white from anxiousness, and relaxed them on your bare knees. Best you could, anyway.

“Yeah,” was the best response you had. This fucking boy ruined your life and stole your eloquence too, apparently. Motherfucker. “You’re right.”

Neither you or Yoongi said anything.

Minutes passed.

Another night in the condo and both of you were sitting on a mattress with a single blanket, deflated pillows, and a box of condoms on the floor.

You touched his forearm the same time his hand moved to grip your thigh.

And then it was the don’t-look-him-in-the-eyes challenge, and he was doing the exact same thing, eyes averted, black hair over them, lips grazing your jaw. Breath against your ear. Hot. His neck under your lips, flexed, fair skin with remnants of bruises, and your teeth sank in, making new ones, listening to his hiss and feeling his hands slide under your sweatshirt. Weighted palms and blunt nails. Digging in.

“Harder.”

He scratched you up as you climbed into his lap, tasting flesh.

Those firm hands gripped your hips and forced them down. Grinding. Softness to growing hardness, unhooking your bra, hands all over like you had lost your mind, your thighs squeezing his sides, yanking his shirt collar down and licking up his collarbone, dripping spit, shivering as you saw it glisten over his marred skin.

Clothes coming off, thrown aside. Guitar sliding to the hardwood floor as bodies tumbled. Your hands on his chest, your hard nipples pressed into the sheets as Yoongi slipped his hand into your hair and shoved your head down. Mouth open, tongue curling around. Moan striking the air, echoing in the nothingness.

Hard, hot, now wet.

Up, down, hitting the back of your throat, unable to choke in the adrenaline of lust, in need, in desire for pain, rubbing your tongue all over as Yoongi face-fucked you hard and fast, thick cock swelling in your mouth, your lips grazing the swollen head and making him shudder, saliva slipping down your chin that was smacking into his balls.

Was it shameful that you were good at it?

Sex solved nothing but you sure had a lot of it as if it did.

A sharp gasp and salty cum filled your throat, drinking, swallowing with effort and the burning sensation of your locked jaw, maintaining the soft tightness. Tongue tracing the contours, keeping him hard, hearing the rip of a foil packet above your head.

You hadn’t even realized that Yoongi had let go of your hair, letting you lick him all over at your own pace.

“What position?” Yoongi panted, husky and breathless in the mostly empty bedroom.

Mattress, chair, desk, laptop. Oh, and guitar.

Bodies on the floor.

You didn’t say anything.

You just turned around and slid down, elbows on the bed, knees spread, ass up.

“Alright then.”

You bit your lower lip.

You almost turned your head, almost looked back, just to check, right, just to check he was okay with it, and then strong hands gripped your hips, lifting them, sliding in, condom on and stretching you out right away, his knees pushing your knees apart and forcing you to arch your back for the angle.

No chance to look back.

You gasped, gripping the sheets, blinded by pleasure and the fading resonance of pain.

Hard.

Deep.

You pushing back, deep not deep enough, hitting your preferred depth and letting your eyelids flutter, veins burning with the repeated ecstasy. One of your hands lifted and reached back, squeezing his hand on your hip, and the grip became tighter, fingertips digging in, smacking his hips into your ass, and your body threatened to throw him back, carnal power meeting his every thrust, clenching around his hard length, and you could hear Yoongi growl your name, low and deep and voracious.

Somehow, his name fell from your lips too.

Rough and sinful, no better than an animal.

His nails dug into your back and dragged down, burning lines into your skin.

Your head tipped back and you moaned, a clear, shameless sound that would become familiar to this ceiling. Pooling wildfire, tightening muscles, wasted nectar sticky between joined thighs, surge after shivering surge of orgasmic apex stinging your veins as you barely registered Yoongi’s shudder and blissful groan, feeling the pulse inside you made than hearing the sound.

The rush of blood roaring in your ears was far too loud for you to hear anything.

Your face felt hot, so hot.

Gripping the sheets, twisting them, pulling them off the edge of the bed.

This moment.

Very few things were as intense and exigent as an orgasm. Fleeting, but a violently memorable. Pure nothingness of soaring high. You chased it. Again. And again. And again, your fingers tangled in Yoongi’s dark hair, pulling it over his face but he didn’t look at you anyway, eyes closed and teeth trapping his lower lip, breath trapped in his chest, driving his hips into yours again and again.

You both kept going until the limits were reached.

The darkness willingly swallowed you up.

-

Min Yoongi always considered himself a rational person, which was precisely why he found himself entangled in the break-up between his former best friend and the only woman he ever considered committing a felony for.

Yeah.

He also didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was still way too hot for that idiot though.

His eyes could communicate well enough with his dick. The short skirt and exposed thighs didn’t really help either. Still, Yoongi had let it be. Respect was keeping his distance despite racing heartbeat and keeping calm despite shaking hands. He got used to it once the late-night talks about music and wordplay became a regular thing. Sometimes they talked about general life and were surprised on how well they aligned. Still, she never spoke poorly about her then-boyfriend even though there was plenty to talk about.

Scorched earth was their sacred ground.

It was painful to witness.

Yoongi regretted valuing the friendship, mostly because it didn’t mean jack shit at the end of the day. He regretted believing in the elegant, age-old saying.

Bros before hoes.

Tch.

But mostly, Yoongi regretted pretending like nothing was wrong.

He would see the pain in her expression and not say anything. Watch her pack it all away and greet him with warmth that he didn’t deserve because he had a racing heart and shaking hands every time they met. He would watch his former best friend disappear into hotel rooms without explanation and Yoongi knew damn well it wasn’t right, but he kept his mouth shut because he was a coward, something he figured out later.

He could have washed his hands clean of that shitshow, but instead his hands had held her shaking shoulders and watched her struggle not to cry on that cold night.

Yoongi considered himself a rational person, but never a good one.

Too many ways to judge, and her lips had already connected with his as soon as his shoulder blades hit the wall. He didn’t stop it. Maybe it was bitterness. Vengeance. Hate.

No, it wasn’t any of that, actually.

He didn’t know exactly what but, in that moment, Yoongi knew that he would murder that asshole if he saw his former best friend’s face right then, ready to commit a felony all because those beautiful eyes couldn’t look at him, closing instead to blink back the tears that bastard didn’t deserve.

That meant something, all right.

He knew it could take a long time. He knew it would almost certainly be hopeless. He knew he would probably end up with a broken heart and broke as hell. He knew it was a bad idea and he knew it was going to tear him up, this spiral, but when he found himself looking up to the ceilings of these mostly empty rooms, this condo he now half-owed with the woman that was formerly his best friend’s girlfriend, and Yoongi found he didn’t know and he didn’t care what the future held.

She had trouble sleeping.

Less trouble after exhausting themselves.

He had trouble sleeping too, but that was because he was staring at the ceiling and wondering just how rational he really was. One hand behind his head, under the pillow. The other resting on the blanket, on the curve of her hip, feeling the steady hum of her breathing.

She never cried in front of him.

He knew she did cry, because he heard her in the bathroom sometimes. But never in front of him. Showed anger, yes, but never acted helpless even though it was perfectly reasonable to feel that way after everything that happened. Living on the least for his sake, even to the point of skipping meals and spending all her time trying to write, trying to get back to her livelihood, trying to get past all the false starts. Personally, Yoongi felt that she should give up for now and heal herself, but he also knew how it felt to feel stubborn and useless.

Hah.

It was weird, being so close and yet so far away.

He felt it most in the nighttime, even though that was when he was closest to her.

He was never going to be the same. He knew that. He already wasn’t, surprising himself with his own recklessness, and for what? He didn’t even know what she was capable of reciprocating after receiving all those scars. Didn’t even know if he was the right one, if he was better or worse, if…

If he was believing in something that wasn’t there.

Yoongi closed his eyes and went to sleep.

-

Livid.

It was weird. Feeling it. In the past, you buried it, numb, and promptly lived in delusion. But now you could feel it. What was more, you let yourself feel it. There wasn’t anything to stop you except for the occasional mental peanut gallery of you’re a bad person if you feel jealousy, but anger could overtake anything if you let it.

You stared at the scene before you, several meters away.

Seething.

It felt good.

Mostly because it was honest.

It surprised you. You hadn’t expected to feel anything. Sad, maybe. You had already been cheated on, so naturally you assumed the cycle would begin anew, just with less promises and in the gray area of uncertainty. But, no, instead of being distraught and delusional, you felt maddeningly, viciously, nearly on-the-edge of making a fist and dislocating Min Yoongi’s jaw from his skull because he was speaking to a female-presenting human at the entrance of the building that housed his and others’ music studios.

Did you lack context? Yes.

Would that get you arrested? Yeah, probably.

Would that probably not get you laid anymore and label you as an unhinged psychopath? Without a doubt.

But would it feel good?

Don’t know.

You had never punched someone before, although maybe you should have practiced on your ex-boyfriend. He was probably a more deserving candidate. In any case, you remained frozen in perplexation at your willingness for violence because you were pretty sure your… relations… with Yoongi were nothing more than a lonely bitch and a spiteful silver tongue executing revenge, so the amount of fucks you should give about Yoongi speaking to any human being – other than the obvious health and safety precautions – should be zero.

None.

Basket of fucks empty.

And yet.

Clearly wasn’t since you were mentally calculating the angle and force for jaw dislocation while having zero experience in doing so. In any sort of non-virtual manner, that is.

Hm.

Your hands were firmly in the pockets of your black cargo pants. The hip ones, although you had plenty of choice. You kept them there for the safety of passerby or, maybe deep down, yourself. This caused your jacket to fall open, the outlines of the sew-on patches and thick, bunched-up black denim crowding the space between your forearm and waist, your black cropped tank exposed to the chill evening air. You used to wear a plethora of band t-shirts, but, well, those were probably in a landfill or rotting in a secondhand shop.

You figured you would be cold. Unsurprisingly, the anger kept you warm.

Huh.

You thought about turning around and just straight up leaving, petty and picturesque of course, and then Yoongi seemed to sense your projected violence, looking up from the conversation. Dark waves over his cheeks, striking body line, backing away, hiding his eyes for a moment, not that you could see them that well from this distance. You twitched.

The girl reached out.

Yoongi simply bowed, out of reach, and pushed the glass door open.

Honestly, her role in this moment was so miniscule that you completely ignored whatever she did or possibly could have said to Yoongi’s retreating back. Sharpened gaze, and then he crossed the street with the crowd, walking past oblivious bystanders who may or may not become the harrowed audience of the next thirty seconds.

He stopped before you. Bomber jacket, white shirt, black track pants. Monochrome elegance.

You looked up at him, saying nothing.

Over one shoulder was his usual guitar bag that held said instrument and his yellow notepad sticking out of the pocket. He used it to jot down whatever came to him. You almost said something. Almost. Then you remembered that if this, this between you and Min Yoongi, if this was supposed to be nothing, then weren’t you supposed to do nothing but voice your casual annoyance for making you wait rather than, well.

Admit insecurity?

You looked away quickly.

No, it did not matter how reasonable it was, you didn’t like knowing that somehow you had been weakened by an ex-boyfriend, barely a man, no, a mere locust at best, so it was better to not say anything and accept that this was–

“Sorry, I got caught up with the staff about ending my lease.”

Compromised.

You didn’t look at him. “What?”

“Gonna end my lease this month and move my studio stuff to the condo. I can’t afford both.”

He had told you this already. It had been your idea. You already knew you were overreacting to a situation that you created in your head rather than reality. And, yet, the best your mind would allow was uh huh, a plausible explanation, sarcasm included.

“Ah. Right,” was your sharp, mildly frigid reply.

“I can’t read your mind.”

Do you intend to be exhausting?

Your mental peanut gallery was super annoying.

You breathed in. Cool, crisp air. The sound of cars and people bustling in and out of stores. You breathed in again. Did you really intend to be exhausting, irrational, and, worst of all, dishonest? Really, after all that had happened? After getting here, standing here, arriving to pick up Yoongi at his request to do the grocery shopping together?

You turned back to look right into black-brown, piercing orbs.

“I just realized that I have the ability to be jealous,” you exhaled, draining your lungs. “It’s unpleasant and not nearly as delightfully pivotal as the media makes it out to be.”

Something fluttered in those orbs.

Or maybe it was the wind catching his bangs, drifting black strands over his eyes shadowed by dark circles.

Yoongi half-smiled.

“Makes for good songwriting material though.”

There was an air of helplessness to his words. A tone you couldn’t define, except for the understanding, which left you both baffled and with a sense of guilt. There were emotions in that barely-there smirk on those familiar lips. Relief. Maybe a slight bit of shame. A shadow of guilt too. You realized people were glancing at you and him as they walked past, wondering why you both were at a standstill on the sidewalk. Yoongi seemed to not notice them or care.

You pulled your hands out of your pockets.

“Come on. We should go before it gets dark.”

Before you noticed it, your hand was rising.

You pulled it back, but not fast enough.

Yoongi’s free hand reached out and grasped around yours, strong fingers enclosing. Sliding up, calluses on your palm. Your hand lowered, slowly, your eyes moving in the opposite direction. Lips parting. His hand was colder than yours.

You stared at Yoongi.

He looked back, expression unreadable.

“I don’t hold hands,” you said, suddenly breathless.

You tightened your grip.

“Neither do I,” Yoongi replied, taking a step, on the cusp of walking past you, his hand around yours. “I simply just don’t like the idea of yours getting cold when I can do something about it.”

Previously, when you held hands, it was always with a purpose of showing public affection. The look-how-real-this-is-because-there-are-clear-witnesses show. Front row tickets nobody asked for. But this.

This.

You blinked hard and the sting was inside.

The sting of wasted time.

Your name in that raspy, soft voice. Familiar. You looked up, not saying anything and hoping the eye contact was enough. All Yoongi did was smile lightly and tug your hand.

“Let’s get take-out and shop tomorrow. We have plenty of time to eat healthier.”

-

“You can cry in front of me.”

Min Yoongi heard her breath hitch and still.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by. It was the dead of night. Or maybe one could call it the time when honesty came to life, if the conditions were right. He knew this time well usually with a drink in his hand, but this time he was laying on his side with bruises of bites and carnal memories lingering on his fingertips.

“I wasn’t crying.”

Her voice was thick and strained from trying to keep it even. Her moment of jealousy had happened days ago. He had recognized it right away. Call it personal experience. He also recognized that she didn’t like to feel that way. It was obvious from her torn yet furious expression. It confirmed a lot of things for him. Still, she seemed pleased to help him move and set up his things in the bedroom. They found the living room to be a bit too echoey due to the large space so they switched the two, pulling the mattress to the living room and setting up his equipment in the center of what was formerly the bedroom.

He told her to paint the condo.

She had mentioned in passing that someday she would like to paint her entire living space black. Not this place, because he owned it too, and you probably think I’m crazy for wanting a dark space, huh, Yoongi? He asked her, why wait? No one lives forever. We’re just passing through.

She had given him a weird look.

We own this condo. Paint it.

There were cans of black paint waiting.

Yoongi had intended to go visit his family over the weekend. His parents and his brother who had recently been promoted to head chef at the classy restaurant he worked at. Someone in the family needed to have prestige. Well, that was his own personal feeling. Surprisingly at this point his parents had given up on telling him to get a higher-paying job. They told him to simply be happy.

And get married.

Yeah, about that.

He was still trying to get used to the music producer thing, for fuck’s sake.

“Are you afraid I won’t understand?” Yoongi let himself say, not turning around yet.

Sometimes, people didn’t want you to see them weak. He could understand that.

Call it personal experience.

A shuddering sigh. Deep breaths. Words bogged down, drained.

“I can only be so pathetic before I lose my mind recalling the past,” she mumbled. He felt her weight deepen on her side of the bed, as if she was trying to melt into the mattress. “I made things hard for myself. For you. It’s pointless to cry about it anyway. In the end, it only makes me look ungrateful.”

Yoongi thought about it.

“It’s true that you probably shouldn’t have involved me.”

He shifted, laying on his back now.

“But I’m not a good person either. I agreed, after all,” he murmured, his skin tingling with bruises and carnal memories. “Hm, to be honest, he was always a dick though, from high school till now. Always will be, I fear.”

“You’re easygoing enough not to be affected by his asshole behavior.”

“Not my job to change people. I leave that to parents and clueless fools.”

A pensive silence. Surprisingly not an irritated one. She seemed to accept it.

“Why did you become his friend?” she asked, staring at the ceiling with him.

“We just happened to like the same thing. Music.”

“I’m lucky you decided to become his friend.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I’m lucky that somehow he managed to bamboozle a hot and clever girl, two things he’s obviously not.”

She almost laughed. Almost.

“Who the fuck uses the word bamboozle?”

“You had to admit you were bamboozled, because you sure as hell weren’t dick-drunk.”

“Oh? You think you’re that good, huh?”

“No, I just know he’s that much worse.”

The faintest of chuckles.

“You… You get better every time,” she admitted. “I think I just caught you off guard the first time.”

“Firstly, I don’t like wasting time and, secondly, I had given up for a while before…” I met you. “Romance seemed like an expensive, worthless distraction when I could be using that time and money trying to push the band forward,” he pivoted, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Then that went to shit.”

“Sorry.”

Automatic.

He chuckled darkly. “I’m confident I got the better deal.”

A trembling pause.

“Why do you think that?”

He reached over and placed his palm on the top of her head, lacing his fingers in her hair. Messing it up.

“Tell me the truth. Was he good at sex?”

A burst of laughter. “Really? Alright. No, he wasn’t. He sucked. Thought he was a piston of a muscle car instead of a human being. Oh, and once he fell asleep on top of me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Turned his head and forced hers to turn as well.

She was smiling.

Yoongi found his chest tight and breath shallow.

“And you didn’t leave him then… why?” he pressed.

She winced, albeit playfully. “I yelled at him. A lot. I don’t know, maybe he was tired.”

“Not an excuse.”

“I know, I know…” Sigh. “I… I didn’t want to believe I made the wrong choice.” Her eyes shifted, but her body was still turned to face his. “I… It made my entire family angry, dating him. Especially my parents. They would never forgive me and hold it over my head forever. I had to make it work. I thought, if only I worked hard enough…” Another heavy breath, squeezing her eyes tightly. “I know it was pride, but I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could do anything. Bad choices? Maybe. But they were mine. I don’t want my life decided by what is best for me. If I suffer for it, those are my consequences.”

Her eyes opened, but barely.

Yoongi kept his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.

“I… I feel like shit because now you’re stuck in my mistakes,” she breathed.

He liked to touch her hair. It felt comforting.

“You know what your problem is?”

She glared under lashes and dared him.

Undeterred, he continued. “You blame yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened.”

A disapproving frown. “Hah?”

He tapped her forehead. “You think it’ll bother me if you cry, but what truly bothers me is that you cry alone.” Pushed back the strands, and now he was closer, sharing breath. “You think I’m stuck in your mistakes. Mistakes don’t inherently have only negative consequences. They almost always exist in a gray area.”

“I... I know that,” she grumbled, face against his chest.

“I did say you were clever.”

A drifting, drowsy silence.

“I’m not clever,” she whispered to his skin, pulling her body closer. “I just like you.”

Yoongi felt himself losing to sleep.

“I’ve always liked you, since the moment I saw you,” he muttered into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if he said it at all.

-

“Ah? Yes? Sorry about that. Oh, yes, uh, I’m painting. Everything. Yes, I’ll be sure the keep the windows open. Thank you.”

You closed the front door of the condo. Well. You had expected nervousness, but somehow the conversation between you and the downstairs neighbor had been very calm. Apparently, he worked from home and wasn’t expecting the loud crash of the ladder from your unit.

In your defense, you hadn’t expected it either.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been on the ladder, only trying to figure out how to set it up. It was one of those compact ones that saved space but required some innovative thinking to get the taller height you needed. One crash and a YouTube video later, the ladder was now secure, and then came the knock on the front door.

The thoughts flew by – I don’t belong here, I can’t do this alone, they’re going to scold me and I haven’t even done the upper half yet – but the guy just seemed curious and confused. Didn’t even comment on your awkward outfit of navy boys’ basketball shorts and ill-fitted gray sports bra. Both on super sale. You were still wearing your bra because of the incorrect size, so the gray blob was bordering on ugly-ass tank top.

Look.

Some people had clothing they didn’t care about to paint in and some people had to dive in sale bins because they left behind most of their wardrobe and, with the clothes, their bad memories.

That was the intent.

Things rarely go as intended.

For instance, you thought you were going to feel imposter syndrome for a neighbor knowing that you were painting your own goddamn walls. You turned away from the door after you locked it, frowning. That’s right. Like it or not, bad decisions and minus an ex-boyfriend later, these were your walls. You looked up, out the large, floor-to-ceiling living room windows, and saw the sunlight sparkle over the sprawling city, walls painted half-black and half white surrounding you, and you could say that you never wanted to be here, but.

It was a sick view.

We own this condo. Paint it.

Your muscles were sore from the repeated swiping motion of the paint roller, but there was still this inexplicable energy coursing through you.

“What if it doesn’t look good?” you had asked Yoongi.

He had shrugged. “Then we paint it again.”

“It’ll be dark.”

“Wow, really? I thought black was supposed to be bright and cheerful,” was the sarcastic quip. “Just believe you have good taste and paint the damn walls.”

This condo was an investment that made you poor.

That was the truth you needed to face.

You have good taste.

You scrunched your face slightly as you remembered Yoongi’s facial expression. Was he… praising you or himself? You squinted. This guy. Picked up the paint roller again and saturated it with ink black, making crispy crinkly sounds as you shuffled over the plastic. Good taste. Well, that was relative, wasn’t it? Everything was at the end of the day. You climbed onto the ladder and began the repetitive, monotone motion once more but at a higher elevation. You should have put your music back on. Your phone was on the plastic-covered mattress and you were not about to go back down until you finished this section or ran out of paint. This was going to be a long process, but you had several days and too much time as Yoongi had already left to visit his family.

Now you were alone with a lot of paint and mind-numbing fumes.

Shit, you should have opened the window.

You would have to paint a second coat anyway. Who cared if the first coat was shitty?

Sigh.

Climbing down and doing your due diligence before returning to your post.

You had forgotten once again to put your music back on. Hah. Well, that was fine; you had yourself. You didn’t mind being alone. Heh, sometimes it was better to be alone. You continued rolling away, hardworking in the consistent rhythm. Thinking about it now, this might have been the first time in a long time that you were okay with being alone. Before, you had felt guilty whenever you weren’t thinking about your relationship. Huh. Odd. Was it some kind of mental self-reassurance when you knew something was off? It was hard to tell, but possible.

Everything was off about that relationship. You just had too much pride to admit it.

You sighed, climbing back down to reload.

Wait a second. Was this why there was that wider step towards the top of the ladder? You poured some more paint in the tray and carried it up with you. Oh shit. Wow. Innovation. You coughed and went back to a different patch of wall. No one saw that. See, perks of being alone.

Well, you didn’t hate Yoongi being here.

You stopped painting.

You didn’t just think that.

You went back to painting. Shut up, nagging feeling. You furiously painted on, ignoring your soreness, telling that little voice in your head to shut up, because there were plenty of reasons not to think stuff like that. Firstly, you weren’t ready to think stuff like that. And what if it was only hopeful transference rather than genuine feeling? Asshole or not, your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal of trust was not something so easily overcome. It wasn’t fair to Yoongi either, pretending to like him if you weren’t sure.

You liked Yoongi before you broke up, too.

Wasn’t that fucked up?

You sighed and came back down, careful to scoot the ladder without spilling and causing a mess. Back up and at it. Of course, it was fucked up. And you knew it was, which might have been why you let it get that bad. Might? Was why you let it get that bad. Two hypocrites were meant for each other. You huffed, puffing your cheeks. It wasn’t enough to hold the ticking grenade; you had needed confirmation it was a, in fact, a bomb.

Maybe even hoping it would end you.

It didn’t.

For some reason, you thought Yoongi could see that in you.

Damn, he’s really living in your system, hm?

You frowned.

Your phone rang.

You almost jumped, startled at the sudden sound of an old song you used to enjoy. Back when you were a teenager, and the memories came back as you climbed down. A kid who just really liked rock’n’roll, and parents who did not, but that kid didn’t care, annoyingly setting it as her ringtone on her shitty flip phone. Couldn’t you be her again? Before you had time to ponder, you checked your hands for paint and picked up your phone, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Did you eat?”

You blinked, sitting down on the crinkly plastic upon hearing that deep, raspy voice. “Uh, no. I was gonna stop by the convenience store when the first coat was done.”

“No, you weren’t. You were gonna skip a meal,” Min Yoongi tutted. “Because you don’t want to be a nuisance and use the money I had left you.”

Damn. He knew you, all right.

“If I forget, I forget,” you grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, pick up the food order from the front desk when it comes. They told me about thirty minutes.”

“You don’t have to order food for me. I’m not a kid,” you hissed.

“It’s the pho spot you like and if I don’t put food in front of you, you won’t eat. You intend to do all that hard work without some fuel?” A pause. You made a disapproving noise. “And I know you’re not a kid. By the way, what’s your waist measurement?”

You remained a grump. “Why?”

“I’m here, so I’m going to buy you some clothes.”

“Don’t buy me clothes. Don’t spend money–”

“You need things,” Yoongi cut you off. “Unless you want to come with me? You don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it and you know it,” you snapped back. “It’s not worth–”

“Of course, it isn’t. It’s vain and silly and superficial. And I’m still going to buy you things, so tell me your waist measurement.”

“Yoongi, this is your hard-earned money,” you puffed out, exasperated.

“Yeah, and I make money to provide you with a good life because I think you are the most important person to me. So, do you want me to guess with my hands or are you going to meet me halfway?”

Dead silence.

He called your name, softly.

You told him in centimeters.

“Got it. Don’t forget to check the front desk in thirty minutes.”

-

“I love you.”

His hair was stuck to his face due to sweat. “What?”

“I said I love you,” she said, staring right at him, their chests shuddering from exertion.

Yoongi couldn’t believe it, but also he wasn’t surprised. The room still smelled faintly like paint. The windows still had no curtains or blinds. They were still fucking on the mattress in the center of the living room and he was holding the used condom when she said I love you.

The walls and ceiling were all black, covering them in darkness as the city below glimmered with light.

“I love you,” was his reply.

It startled him, the suddenness of his response. He knew he did. Of course, he did, and he turned away quickly, making his way to the kitchen and throwing away the condom, skin tingling, cheeks aflame, and he was startled by the feeling that remained. He hadn’t expected those words to come out of her mouth even though he was sure of his own feelings. Yoongi had resigned himself to not hear it from her lips. He also didn’t need to hear it to know that it was true.

He saw her head to the bathroom.

Time was funny sometimes.

Suddenly they were both staring at each other on the mattress, the usual ritual completed, and the moment suspended.

“You didn’t have to say it,” he finally said. “For my sake.”

“I didn’t.” Her hair curled over her shoulder, caressing her curves. “I said it for my sake.”

Blankets and pillows and questions.

“I wondered about the validity of it,” she admitted to him. “Been wrong before and all that. Might still be wrong. So, I said it just to see if I regretted it.”

“Ah.”

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Do you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

He half-smiled. How very simple yet complicated. He understood. “All the paint fumes really got to your head, huh?”

She looked up at him and he realized with a start that she, too, was half-smiling.

He reached out, smoothing her hair.

“You have a pretty face, Yoongi,” she teased, eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it would be too cliché, you and me,” she continued and the tone was different now, softer and more serious. “I thought you would get tired.”

She meant, of me.

He had thought this was cliché too. Cliché didn’t mean worthless though. His hand fell, and rested over hers without a second thought. Warm and against the sheets. “If I felt that way, I would have stopped speaking to you long ago. You could take care of yourself too.” Not safely, but could. “Except for money.”

She smirked.

“So you’re saying I need a suga daddy.”

Yoongi twitched.

“Part of me wanted to sell the condo as soon as possible,” she went on, casually glossing over the comment. “But the realtor said it would be a bad idea. I wouldn’t have any buyers without a minimum of six months or a year. Too many superstitions. Part of me thought I should…”

She looked up to the ceiling.

It was a high-rise, after all.

“All the reasons to move here were his. More convenient, better opportunities, owning rather than renting for the investment… I believed in it, more than myself.”

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t because all those things had benefitted him already. He didn’t only agree to move in help her out. He was still a working music producer. But she didn’t seem to be saying it to condone him.

“I didn’t really think this place was mine until I painted the walls.”

Yoongi thought he should at least confess this part. “That’s why I told you to paint them.”

A small laugh. “You don’t like it, huh?”

“Don’t you remember the walls of the old studio were dark gray? That was my doing. I always resented the last place I rented because they didn’t let me paint the walls.”

“Ah… He painted over the gray.”

“I bet he did.”

They had fallen to the bed now, side by side.

“I didn’t think this would work out,” she breathed.

“I thought it might,” he hummed.

“Why?”

“You’re hot and clever and I wanted you from the first day I saw you.”

A warm chuckle. “Just like that?”

“Well, you had to give me a chance. Couldn’t make the first move due to the circumstances.”

“It was a convoluted and confusing one.”

“Eh, life’s unfair.”

-

“Your husband already paid.”

Your what?

“What?”

The cashier waved you away. You shuffled back, dazed, seeing Min Yoongi emerge from the bathroom in the corner of the restaurant, tucking a bit of his long black hair behind his ears and finding you in front of him.

“The cashier just called you my husband,” you declared.

He shrugged.

“Surprise.”

You blinked at him.

Patrons chatted and laughed as if this was a normal day. The music was horrendous covers of cheesy 2000’s pop. It was very strange, but the pho was good and well-priced, which was why Yoongi and you came here often after his meetings with music companies. Popular talent was in high demand.

He ticked his head to your outfit. “I know you like this dress I bought you, but you’ve left your coat at the table.”

“Oh, shit.”

“You’ve been scatterbrained ever since you started writing again.”

“Shut up.”

--

masterpost

[linniewrites]

We all have our issues | Prologue

idol!jungkook x chubby!student!reader

Summary : She asked me if she was pretty.

Well, it’s clear that the girl’s a fraud.

There's really no way of winning

If in their eyes you'll always be a dumb blonde

Words : 900

Warnings : mommy issues, daddy issues, age gap (Jk is 25 while reader is 20), crying, talk about anxiety, depression, abuse, mentions of panic attacks, school induced stress, fear of dogs (?), insecurities, body shaming.

You grab the cherry and coke flavored candies on the shelf and throw them into the red basket you’re holding with your arm. You then readjust your glasses and head towards the ramen aisle, you take a box of your favorite ramen along with a box of two soft boiled eggs. You ponder for a few moments before deciding to get a spicy salmon gimbap. When checking out the seaweed snacks, you notice a tall man dressed in black sweatpants and a large Nike shirt hesitating between two flavors.

He’s humming a soft tune which sound familiar, but your tiredness doesn’t allow you to remember exactly what it is. You sigh and go pay before setting down your stuff at the counter while you go heat up the ramen. The ringing from the microwave stops you up from almost falling asleep standing up, and you carefully take out your bowl to bring it to the counter. Slowly, you take out your laptop as well as your notebook from your bag to work on your philosophy paper. About ten minutes in your essay, you see from the corner of your eyes a black bag hesitantly being set down.

“Do you mind if I sit here ?” The man from earlier asks. He stares at you and the notes you have before grabbing his bag and taking a few steps back. “If you’re working, I can go somewhere else.” He points at the other seats available, but you shake your head no and gesture for him to sit. You wipe your teary eyes and turn away from him so he couldn’t see the state you were in.

However, that doesn’t look like it worked, because he seems to have noticed, because he hesitantly puts his hand on your shoulder. “I don’t mean to be rude, but, are you okay ?”

You blink at him and look around nervously before answering. “Yeah.”

You wished you could’ve said more, but it felt like you had already said too much. You now fully turn away, so he couldn’t ask you anymore questions, and take a bite of your noodles. The ramen burn your tongue and you blame your upcoming tears on the spice, this time you don’t stop them, and let them fall freely on your lap. You attempt to muffle your cries by shoving more food into your mouth, but to no avail.

Truth is, you were having a pretty good day, one of your classes got cancelled so you got to hang out with some friends, you had lunch together and laughed. And then your mother surprised you. You get along well with her, but sometimes she can be a lot. She had been at your apartment o when you’d came home and it was fun, until she said stuff that bothered you. When you told her you had a great time with friends, she criticized them, and said you should be focused on studies, when you told her you got an amazing grade on an English paper, she asked how much everyone else had.

In the end, you answered that it didn’t matter, because you were proud of your grade, she got mad at you and called you rude, amongst other names. After her whole outburst, she had suddenly decided to be friendly and offered to cook you something so you could relax and watch your favorite show together. For the first time you tried to stand up to her, and you told her you didn’t feel like hanging out today, but she only just laughed at your face, until she realized you were serious. Then, she got even angrier and left, slamming the door like an antsy teenager behind her. You didn’t even bother cleaning up everything she took out and just grabbed your bag before heading to the convenience store. You saw the man next to you steal glances at you every few minutes, and you started to feel bad because he was just being nice and you had ignored him. When you saw him hesitate to ask you if you were okay once more, you turned to face him.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m just… not really having a great day. But I’m fine, don’t worry.” You wiped your under eyes with the back of your hand.

“Sir ?” He giggled, and you quite frankly thought it was the cutest thing you had ever heard. “I’m sorry you had a bad day. That really sucks. D-Do you want to talk about it ?” He saw your eyes start to wander around so he assumed he was being too intrusive and turned back to his own food. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry.”

“No I’m sorry. You’re being really nice, and I’m just being lame. Even if I wanted to talk about it, I don’t really know what I would tell you, to be honest.”

“How about we just eat ? And if by the end of your meal, you want to talk, I’ll be here.” He offered you, smiling kindly.

“Okay, that’d be nice. Thank you…” You trailed off, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Jungkook.” He saw the way your face dropped and looked around to see if anything had bothered you or made you sad, but then he heard you whisper to him.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I really like your music.”

“Oh, well thank you…”

“___”

[queuestarter]

diluted

(johanna mason x reader)

cw: panic attacks, crying, mentions of torture

link to the request → reader helping johanna overcome her fear of water

You eye Johanna critically from across the room. It’s been weeks since she’s been rescued from the Capitol and she’s been completely ignoring you since then. Every time you ask her if she’s okay or if you can do anything for her, she brushes you off.

You understand that she’s been through a lot, but as her girlfriend, her indifference upset you. In an effort to keep yourself busy, you spend most of your time with Beetee in the weapons room, helping to design defensive strategies. Ever since you banned Gale from helping, things have been better on that front.

“Stop looking at me like I’m going to collapse at any moment.” Johanna calls out to you. She’s playing with the sheets on her bed, not even looking in your direction.

You sigh. “I just want you to be okay, Jo. I worry about you.”

She sneers down at her sheets. “Worry about me when Snow’s dead.”

So you do. After Katniss kills President Coin, Snow dies, and the underground community of District 13 falls apart, you move to District 7 and begin to worry about Johanna like it’s a full time job.

It starts with weaning her off of her morphling supply. You two live in the middle of the woods, so there’s no easy access to the drug, nor do you want Johanna using it to cope anymore. It takes her weeks to get back to her healthy self, which brings you great relief.

The other issue that you quickly learn about is Johanna’s newfound fear of water. You quickly piece together that when she was held captive by the Capitol, they used water as a form of torture for her. She doesn’t like talking about it, but you can see the truth in the way her face scrunches up in fear whenever she’s confronted with water. 

It breaks your heart.

You decide to take matters into your own hands once again. You helped her with her morphling withdrawals, you think, how much harder can it be to help her overcome her fear of water?

“Come on, Jo,” you plead with her. “I want to go down to the lake.”

You don’t really want to go to the lake- swimming in freshwater scares you a little bit- but you figure this is a good step one.

Johanna eyes you with a look of disdain on her face. “I don’t want to go. I’m sure there’s a hundred other people in District 7 that would love to join you.”

You grab her hand and kiss her palm. “But there’s no one else in this district that I love like I love you.” You know as soon as you say the words that you’ve sufficiently sweet talked her.

Johanna likes to pretend that she’s tough, but she’s really a giant softy.

Once you actually make it down to the lake, three hours later, Johanna grips your hand with all of her strength, it seems. You take it in stride, though, and hold on just as tight.

“It looks beautiful,” you comment, staring at the water. “Reminds me of you.”

It really does. The way the trees cast a shade upon the surface perfectly complements the highlights from the sun. Just like Johanna, there’s darkness and light.

Johanna rolls her eyes and sets your belongings down on the grass. “Go on, have your fun. I’ll be over here.”

You pout. “Oh. I wanted you to join me.”

The pained look that you’re now so familiar with makes its return. “You know that I don’t want to.”

You instantly melt, wrapping your arms around her. She clings back to you just as tight. “You don’t have to, my love. I just want you to be able to let go of what they did to you. I want you to reclaim it.”

Johanna pulls back and looks into your eyes. “Yeah. You’re right.” And with renewed vigor, Johanna grabs your hand and pulls you to the lake, kicking off her shoes along the way. When she gets to the water’s edge, she stops suddenly.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, letting your own toes dip into the water.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” she says in a soft tone. “I don’t think I can reclaim it.”

You frown, standing in front of her. “Jo, if you don’t want to go in you absolutely don’t have to. It was just a stupid idea.”

Now it’s her turn to frown. “It’s not stupid, you were just trying to help me.” With that, she dips her toes in the lake.

Your jaw drops. You were not expecting her to go in the water that easily. “Baby, you did it!” 

Johanna closes her eyes. “Can we eat lunch now?”

You grin. “Of course.”

After that day, you don’t force her to deal with water so boldly for another few weeks. The next time you bring up the exposure therapy is during a rainstorm that has your girlfriend curled up on the couch holding her ears.

“How about,” you say, rubbing her back. “After this has all cleared up, we do something fun.”

“Like what?” Her voice is muffled by a pillow.

“We can jump in the puddles outside.”

Johanna tenses, more than she already was. “And how is that supposed to be fun?”

You lean down and kiss her nose. “I always used to do that when I was a kid. I liked it. And I feel like it’ll help with what we’ve been working on. You’re scared of this rain, but we’ll have fun playing in the puddles it provides afterwards.”

Johanna looks at you, trust in her eyes. “Okay.”

So that’s what you do.

After the rain ends, it barely takes any coaxing to get Johanna out of the house and bounding into puddles. Once she sees you do it, giggles leaving your lips with each jump, she joins in.

“This isn’t so bad,” she admits, wiping some mud that splashed up on her off of her arms. “It’s kind of nice.”

You nod, grabbing both of her hands. “It is what you make it, baby.”

That’s what you repeat to her when it’s time to get in the shower upon your return home. “It is what you make it, baby. You need to clean off.”

Johanna shakes her head. “I can’t. This is too much.” It breaks your heart to see tears flowing freely from her eyes.

“I’ll be there with you the entire time. Holding you, kissing you. This is just going to be another good memory,” you try to convince her.

Without wasting another moment, you strip out of your filthy clothes and throw them in the hamper. You then turn on the shower, heart panging at the sound of another one of Johanna’s sobs.

You turn back to your girlfriend, helping her strip as well. You pepper kisses all over her cheeks and lips, hands running over her back. “Let’s wash off, baby. It’ll be quick.”

You step into the shower, just standing under the stream. You think that maybe if she sees that you’re okay under the flow of water, she will be too.

That hope doesn’t last long- Johanna just stands and watches you with tears in her eyes, hands twisting together.

“Come on,” you plead. “You can’t stay covered in mud forever. And I’m lonely in here. I need you with me, always.”

That seems to do it. Johanna takes a step forward, then another, and then eventually she collapses in your arms, sobs wracking her body.

“That’s my girl,” you say, petting her hair. “I’ve never been so proud of you in my life.” You continue to repeat positive affirmations to her, holding her close to you.

After a few minutes, Johanna is calm enough to agree to you washing her body. You take your time, scrubbing her from top to bottom. She even jokes around with you towards the end while you quickly wash yourself off.

Hours later, wrapped up in your matching robes on your bed, she thanks you. “I never would have done that without you. Thank you, baby.” It’s so uncharacteristic for her to say, even more so when she tucks her head in your neck.

You love that she feels safe enough with you to be soft.

“There’s no need to thank me. I just want you to be the happiest you can be. This is the start of the rest of our life, baby. I don’t want the past to hold us back.”

She nods, kissing your collarbone. A few moments later, she’s asleep. 

You fall asleep shortly after her, a smile on your face.

-

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 5

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

..........................................................

Ananya reached her apartment around 1 am. Roma was not back yet, thankfully. She wasn’t ready for her interrogation. 

The night still felt surreal. She leaned against the dining table and held on to the edges to steady the head-rush she was feeling. If the Tupperware of leftover pasta was not in front of her (he had insisted she took some coz she had barely eaten), the girl would have seriously wondered if she had hallucinated the whole thing. But no, this really happened. And she didn’t bail on whatever this was, as she had initially planned to do.

The wine was still buzzing in her system, helping calm her nerves. Before turning in for the night, she sent him a quick message.

Ananya: Reached 15 mins ago. Thanks for the drop. 

She wasn’t expecting a response. He must have a ton of people to talk to / respond to after the match earlier that night. So she started an episode of Friends, hoping to fall asleep in a bit.

5 mins later, her phone flashed.

Jude: Cool. Tired?

Ananya: Oh yeah, in bed already. You?

She rubbed her temple to soothe her straining eyes. It had been some day. 

Jude: Wanted to crash but some of the guys still partying at Vini’s house. Cama kept sending me videos, gosh he’s so wasted right now. Came there for a bit.

She smiled at her phone. The team deserved every bit of celebration tonight.

Ananya: That’s nice. Have fun :)

Jude: Yup. What plans for tmrw? Boss cancelled our training so I am free till afternoon. 

Ananya: Have to work a few hours in the morning, which might extend, not sure.

Jude: On Sunday morning?

Ananya: Welcome to investment banking.

Jude: Keep forgetting how smart you are.

Ananya: Not that smart, but ok :)

Jude: So, I have an ad shoot tomorrow evening, then flying out for an away game on Monday after training. Don’t know when I will see you next.

A wave of sadness hit her, surprising her with its force. Her brain admonished her. She had only just met him and she needed to get a grip. 

Ananya: It’s fine. Will figure something when you are back.

Jude: Hmm. Haven’t even kissed you yet and you are already messing with my head.

The sadness was replaced by a warm shiver as she stared at the screen and thought of a response. But couldn’t come up with any.

Jude: Did you just fall asleep on me? 

Ananya: Stop being dramatic. I am right here.

Jude: Naa, wish you were HERE. Why’d you leave?

Ananya: Jude, you know why.

There was something about the way she said his name that made him want to hear it on loop, in various settings. God damnit this girl.

Jude: Yeah yeah. You thought we won’t be able to keep it in our pants.

She choked on water, and some spilled out on her blanket. 

Ananya: How drunk are you?

Jude: Plentyyyy. Don even know what’s been shoved down my throat anymore. 

Ananya: Figures :)

Jude: One last thing. Veryyyy important, like proper critical. 

Ananya: Yes?

Jude: Need to see you in my jersey. 

She smiled to herself before typing.

Ananya: Maybe win the Madrid derby next, score the winner, and then we’ll talk?

Jude: Tough, tough crowd. No mercy. No rest for the wicked. No respect for the Classico winner. 

He was even more dramatic when he was drunk. She could almost hear the whining from his texts.

Ananya: Good night, Jude :)

Jude: Good night, dove. Try not to dream of me too much. Mwahhh!

She smiled at the screen and ended up kissing it, finally drifting off to sleep.

Next morning, she woke up to a message from him. Sent at 5 am. A drunk out of their wits pic with Jude, Cama and Fede. Along with a caption.

Jude: Your preciousss Cama.

Then, another message from a few seconds later.

Jude: Don’t stare too long. 

She responded with a heart emoji to the picture and got started with her day.

Next few hours were hectic. She got into her work mode, shutting out all the madness that had transpired the day before.

Still, in between, her eyes drifted to her phone, to see if there were any new messages. Poor guy must have been sleeping. Or busy. He did say he had an ad shoot in the second half.

She somehow pulled through the day, and it was almost 5 pm when she finally finished work. Roma was also on the same project. The girls sighed about it being Monday morning just  next day, and decided to make the most of their remaining evening. 

They ended up at the same cafe where Ananya had met him the other day. Was it just two days ago? God - so much had happened since then.

She ordered her favourite churros and took a picture. Then wondered whether she should send it to him. Would it look desperate? Like she was just seeking his attention? She couldn’t have that.

But it was a harmless pic. He would get the reference. Deciding to not overthink it, she ended up sending the photo with a caption.

Ananya: Back to ground zero!

No blue tick for over 15 mins.

Roma rolled her eyes at her then.

‘Can you stop the sappiness? Look around - lovely day. Lovely food. Let’s get some Sangria and let the world go to hell.’

Her roommate was the best. The two perfectly complimented each other. Plus, her American upbringing lent her this carefree attitude which Ananya really wished to imbibe.

‘Well, how can anyone say no to Sangria?’

The girls ordered a pitcher and ended up staying there for a few hours. Gossiping about their colleagues. Talking about life. Planning a vacation - Sevilla and Granada were top of their list. They looked up their calendars and found a long weekend that seemed ideal. The prospect itself making them cheerful.

By the time they got back, it was already 9 pm. There was still nothing from him. Not even a blue tick. She knew he was working. Yet, an ugly thought still creeped in - was this just a one night distraction? Did he already…lose interest after she dumped her constraints on him? All her doubts from last night came rushing back, leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

She got into bed and tried watching a movie. Anything random to keep her thoughts at bay. While scrolling through her insta.

And there it was - a post from him a few mins ago about the ad campaign for a cologne. With a gorgeous, stunning model at his arm. Ofcourse. 

The first photo looked like a part of the creative. The two were dressed immaculately in all black, she was leaning against his chest while his hand rested just above her butt. Seductiveness oozing from every inch of that frame.

The next was a BTS video - of him just being goofy on set while getting ready or trying to take a shot & not getting it right. The whole crew just getting charmed by his antics and boyish smiles. The model, in particular being extra supportive, extra attentive, giggling a bit too hard while holding onto his arm. Perfect hair, perfect figure and perfect skin. Ofcourse. 

And just then, her insta reels recommendation showed Jude hugging multiple female fans who had lined up outside his shoot. They screamed his name, begging for hugs and he obliged. Warm, cozy, Jude hugs. Granted he only wrapped one arm around their shoulder and looked embarrassed when some of them reached up to kiss his cheek or pulled him closer, but still. This wasn’t something she needed to see right now. 

Was this going to be her life from now on? Curled into bed, following his activities on social media, feeling inadequate. She didn’t deserve it. No girl deserved this. 

She threw her phone aside and forced herself to focus on the movie. It was already 9:45, it would be best to get some sleep soon. Next week was going to be super hectic at work. Yes, work is what she needed do focus on. That’s why she was halfway across the world in this city. That was her goal in life right now. Not some ridiculously handsome random boy who made women go weak in their knees everywhere he went. 

Around 10 pm, her phone buzzed. She had tucked herself into bed by then and almost decided to not look at it. But curiosity got the better of her.

Jude: Heyyy. Sorry my phone was not with me. Just getting back from a shoot.

She was equal parts relieved and irritated with that message. Ananya took a deep breath to calm herself down, and thought of a neutral response.

Ananya: Oh yeah, you had mentioned. How did it go?

Jude: Not too bad. Somehow got an ok on my take, that’s all I care about honestly. This acting gig ain’t no joke. 

Ananya: Hmm.

Jude: Churros looked lovely. Hope you had fun.

Ananya: Yep, and yep.

Jude: Tired? Am I keeping you from something?

Ananya: Nope. 

Jude: Why so wry then? What’s happened?

Oh, how she wanted to scream. What’s happened was exactly what she didn’t want to happen. What she swore she won’t put herself through with another boy. And this was amplified 1000 times here coz of who Jude was. 

She started typing, then deleted, then typed again, unable to find the right words. This went on for two mins. 

Jude: Can I call?

She sighed, exasperated. Her voice will immediately give away her irritated and confused state. But he knew something was up and typing like this was getting exhausting.

Ananya: Sure.

He called the next second. She braced herself, then answered. 

‘Hey.’

She couldn’t have possibly made it sound drier even if she tried. 

‘Hey. Wassup?’

‘Nothing, was just about to crash. Already in bed.’

‘Hmm, won’t keep you for long. Just wanna hear your voice.’

Damn him. To the moon and back. Damn his sweet agonising voice. 

‘Why? Looks like you had enough company today.’

The words just tumbled out of her before she could check herself. Great going girl, way to make yourself look pathetic. 

He paused for a few seconds.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing, forget it.’

‘Tell me you’ll sort this on your own and wake up all fine tomorrow morning, I’ll leave it be.’

She knew that wasn’t gonna happen. There was also no way for this to ever work if she wasn’t honest with him. Especially given his situation, things will just compound and then break very quickly. If they ever even get started, that is. 

‘The photos bothered me a bit.’

She could sigh him breathe audibly at the other end - probably getting irritated at her insecurity. Or her immaturity. Maybe both. 

‘What about them bothered you?’

Damn him for always making her spell everything out loud.

‘Just…her? Everything about that stunning woman. Looks like she fancied you.’

She could tell the wheels were churning in his mind at the other end.

‘I see. And you think I should be with someone like her. In fact, maybe I am going to her hotel room right now & talking to you on the way.’

Her silence was deafening. Jude gripped the edge of his seat to not curse out loud. 

‘Ananya - didn’t we speak about this last night? Are we gonna go back full circle here?’

‘I am sorry. It’s just - I don’t know how I could ever compete with someone like that. Also, I don’t want to. I am a normal, regular girl Jude. Don’t need that in my life right now, or ever.’

‘YOU DON’T HAVE TO COMPETE. Can’t you see you have already won?’

Warmth and fuzziness ran over her, making her feel gooey inside. She had to clutch her tummy to arrest that feeling. To arrest the freefall. 

‘You don’t know what’s gonna happen.’

Jude fought the urge to throw his phone against the opposite seat. 

‘DO YOU? Does anyone? Girl, why don’t you believe me when I say I want you? Should I list down how much I have fantasised about you the last two days? How much I wanna…..’

‘Stop, please stop Jude. Please.’

Both were breathing heavily at this point, for different reasons.

‘Can I ask you for one thing, Ananya? Try trusting me till I give you an explicit reason not to. I am not such a dog, y’know. Yes, I have seen multiple girls together before but all parties KNEW it was casual. No commitments. This is not that. This is not a situationship. I would have told you to your face if that’s what I was looking for.’

She clutched her phone close to her chest. Him being who he was had made it all so hard. But he was right - he hadn’t done anything. Well, not yet. 

‘I don’t know what to say, Jude. Like I know a lot of this is in my head but I don’t know how to make it go away.’

Heavy breathing continued at both ends. He broke the silence after a few moments. 

‘How about this? Ask me what you really wanna ask me. All your unsaid questions, assumptions, perceptions about me that make you want to distance yourself. I won’t lie, promise. Be the smart girl I know you are and break it down like you will a work project.’

That was actually a fair suggestion. She could see what he was trying to do by appealing to her logical side. Not just a pretty face. Clearly not. 

She chucked her inhibitions on how crude her questions might sound. He was right - without this they would keep coming back full circle.

‘So…when you said you were dating multiple women together..’

‘Seeing…not dating.’

He clarified before she could go on. It was an important distinction for him. 

‘Yes, seeing them together, how long back was that?’

‘In Dortmund.’

‘Hmmm.’

She didn’t know how to feel about that. So she skipped to the next obvious question.

‘And…what about Madrid?’

‘Seen a couple, texted a couple, but not at the same time.’

‘Ok. When was the last time you were…you know..’

He understood the question before her finishing it.

‘Two weeks ago.’

‘I see.’

That wasn’t too long back. Was he still in touch with her? Did they meet up at his house? Something about the last thought made her feel icky.

‘And, these rendezvous, usually happen where?’

He chuckled at her choice of words. She really was something. 

‘At a hotel close by. It’s a private, exclusive property.’

‘Ofcourse.’

He could tell there was a tinge of sarcasm in that last word but chose to let it go.

‘Are you in touch with her….the last one?’

‘Not since a week.’

She was feeling particularly bold at this point. Jude could anticipate her next question from a mile away.

‘Well, are you planning to?’

‘Nope. Not her. Not anyone else. I will only be with you and you will only be with me. Exclusively.’

He declared without hesitation. Her mouth open and closed at his last line, unsure of how to react. He waited patiently. 

‘And what about the hordes of women who throw themselves at you daily? Who would do absolutely anything you want, and more?’

‘There is no easy fix here. You will have to find a way to believe that I will not stray, I will not indulge them.’

He could have backed his statement with evidence. Coz the model from today did slip him her number & he had politely wriggled out of that. But even he had the good sense to know this wasn't the time to bring that up.

She appreciated how he didn’t try to feed her any rosy crap, really following through on answering honestly. His tone & speed of response gave her enough assurance that he wasn’t being evasive. 

She had run out of questions and said as much to him. Weirdly, in some inexplicable way, this was healing.

‘My turn then.’

This caught her off guard. But it was a fair ask, after the grilling she just put him through. 

‘Sure, go ahead.’

‘Open your door in precisely 1 minute. I will ask in person.’

The phone dropped from her hand as she sat up, landing somewhere under the blanket. She reached for it blindly with one hand while switching on the lights with the other. 

‘What do you mean in person? You don’t know where I live.’

‘Agnes knows.’

Ofcourse. His driver had dropped her home last night. Great, his presence was making her dumb now.

‘But….what if someone sees you? Roma is home too. The house is so messy. And I am, I am..One second, your shoot was on the other side of town and this is not in your way. What would you be doing here? Are you messing with me?’

She rambled faster that the speed of light. He ignored every other comment but picked up on the last one.

‘How did you know where my shoot was?’

Damn. Bloody rotten hell. She groaned audibly on the phone and he laughed out loud.

‘Dove is a stalkerrrrrr!’

He said teasingly, in a sing-song voice. 

Before she could respond, she heard a car honk under her window. No, this couldn’t be. He wouldn’t. Would he?

‘Buzz me in and open the door. I am getting out of the car now.’

Ananya rushed frantically to the door, buzzing the building gate open. The idea of someone seeing him here filling her with nerves. Thankfully, she was on the first floor, half a staircase away from the building door.

Three seconds later, she saw him enter the building. Eight seconds later, she was grabbing his arm and pulling him into the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind them.

What was he thinking? What if someone had seen him outside? The media crap storm would have been unstoppable. How irresponsible was this? The gall of him to show up unannounced like that, anytime he wanted. Oh, she was mad. Raving mad.

Before she could turn around and give him a piece of her mind, strong arms wrapped around her from behind. 

‘Sorry. Just wanted to see you once before I fly out tomorrow. Didn’t want to leave on this note.’

And just like that, he knocked the fight out of her chest. With two simple lines. Frankly she was a goner at sorry itself. The boy carried a magic wand of persuasion with him. 

Her shoulders, which were tensed in anger, dropped as she leaned back into his chest. He kissed the back of her head, conveying his gratitude.

She could stay like this forever. In his warm, comforting hold. His scent, familiar by now (when did that happen?), seeping into her skin, taking over her senses. His big, calloused hands enveloping her smaller ones. Involuntarily, she sighed.

‘Thank you for being honest with me earlier. I feel better now.’

‘I am glad. My turn? Only have one question.’

‘Ofcourse.’

He turned her around in his arms and tilted her chin up to look straight into her eyes.

‘Would you let me kiss you right now?’

Time stood still. She was very numb yet very aware in that moment. The dim lighting in the living room from the night lamp, the faint noise from the street, the rhythmic tapping of feet coming from Roma’s locked room who was blaring music on her headphones. All registering in some peripheral part of her brain.

But what she was hypnotised by was his face, and his eyes, gazing intently at her, drawing her in. How was it ever possible to say no to that face? To those big brown eyes which looked even deeper, softer, more vulnerable than ever before?

She didn’t realise when he took off his jacket, nudged her towards the dining table a short distance away, put his hands on the sides of her waist, lifted her slightly to place her on the table. But when her legs were being parted gently so he could stand in front of her, their torsos touching, her trance broke. The heat radiating from his body was palpable. 

Jude’s face was inches away, almost eye level.  A pleasing, handsome, perfectly symmetrical face. The dim lighting creating a halo around him. Ananya tilted her head to look at Roma’s room and if it was still locked. But he put two fingers on her cheek to turn her back to him.

‘Been waiting for this since I saw you.’

Jude lifted her arms & wrapped them around his neck, while his hands stroked her back. The flimsy fabric of her tank top not providing any barrier; it was almost like he was stroking her skin. Her legs, spread wide apart to fit him in, dangled aimlessly on the edge of the table.

How was he expecting a coherent verbal response from her in this situation?

She slowly slid one of her hands from his long muscly neck to his hair, fingers gliding through the thick, firm, soft curls. Her eyes searching his, telling him this is the best she could do right now.

That was all the signal he needed. Her grip in his hair tightened as he angled his head to cover her lips with his. Plump, pillowy lips caressing hers. Making her tightly shut her eyes and whimper out. Which broke something in him.

He dove in again with more urgency, parting her lips this time, getting them to move in sync with his. She gladly obliged, submitting to his rhythm while her heart hammered against her chest. She wondered if he could hear it too. But he was too occupied with tasting her mouth. All her little sounds & shudders giving him a head rush. His hot breath fanning her cheeks. 

When her whimpers went up an octave, he gave her a little breather, connecting their foreheads as they breathed in the same air. Her hands had fallen to the wide expanse of his shoulders, clutching at them to anchor herself. 

He kissed her forehead, the top of her eyes, and placed two delicate pecks on each cheek. His light stubble grazing her skin. She tilted her head involuntarily along with his movements, giving him ready access, like a puppy would to someone petting it. 

‘Ananya, lemme see you.’

The way he said her name, the fondness in his voice, it was like a silent command she couldn’t deny. Her hands gripped his shoulders tighter as she opened her eyes. 

He smiled affectionately, and it took her breath away. All the walls she had built around herself, all the rules, all the notions of just focusing on her work for now, this boy had bulldozed his way through all that with just his breathtaking smile.

Some part of her still conscious brain tried to chide her that she was no different than any of the other girls fawning over him. All it took was him showering her with his undivided attention and she was putty in his hands. But her brain couldn’t get a word in edgewise, her other senses had taken over. 

Jude reached for her hands, unclasped them from his shoulders, somehow sensing the tension in them. What he did next made her lightheaded. He moved his lips to her palms, placing soft, lingering kisses on both. And then, he moved her hands to his face, as if asking her to hold him. Somehow, this felt even more intimate than their kiss. 

His unending torso was all hard muscle, pressed into hers, but his face was soft. Rugged yet soft. Her hands couldn’t even fully cover his cheeks, she noted absentmindedly. So she used the pads of her thumbs to stroke the rest of his gorgeous face. 

Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer into him. She looked up in surprise, finding darker, hooded eyes. 

‘The next time you wanna run away from me, remember this feeling.’

Not only had his eyes changed colour but his voice had turned hoarse too. Insistent lips crashed into hers, prying them open, his tongue penetrating her mouth. She gasped at the invasion. One of her hands fell from his face  & settled behind her on the table, trying to find balance, as the force of his kiss made her lean backwards, with him looming over her. 

His spare hand gripped her bare thigh to help steady her. She just realised how her tiny sleeping shorts had completely inched up her legs, leaving them almost fully bare. His hand was firm and his fingers dug into her skin, making her head spin.

She lost her balance, despite his support, falling further backwards and knocking down a container behind her on the table. He broke the kiss & stretched his arm to reach for the container, finding it just before it was about to crash on the floor. While she just panted in his hold.

‘Jude…I..’

‘Shhhhh, I got you.’

They fell into a warm, comforting embrace. Arms settling around each others’ backs. Her face resting in the crook of his neck as he quietly stroked her hair.

‘Did it ever occur to you that it’s hard for me to trust as well?’

That made her grudgingly break the hug and look up at him with confused eyes, while their arms remained locked around each other. 

‘It’s tough to figure if someone really likes me for me or it’s the lifestyle, fame, money and exposure that they are after. If a private encounter would remain private or the details would be splashed over some social media later. If some photoshopped images or invented stories be circulated as sworn truth. I have struggled to judge, so honestly I stopped trying. Keeping it just about sex was simpler. Uncomplicated. Convenient. No strings attached.’

No, it hadn’t occurred to her at all. Not till he put it like that. On any other day, she would have been irked at him trying to conveniently defend his conscious indulgences. But it felt more like an admission than justification. 

She stroked his neck and shoulders as he continued being vulnerable with her. 

‘You see, the normal and regular you think to be such a distancing factor, is in fact the opposite. A huge chunk of my life will always be public, I get that. I signed up for that. But this bit, I wanna protect. I’d love to come home to someone normal.’

Ananya stroked his face with all the tenderness she could muster. Trying to show that she understands. From the way he relaxed into her, she figured he got her message. 

Jude knew he had to be careful with her. Seeing her skimpy nightclothes hugging her body tonight had already disrupted his brain chemistry. He couldn’t shake the thought of how easy it would be to just push her on her back then & there. To rid her of the flimsy fabric barely covering her form l, with one determined tug. 

That’s why he knew he had to leave soon, while he was still thinking with his head. She wasn’t ready, not yet. 

‘That your room?’

He tilted his head towards the open door at the end of the corridor. 

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Want me to carry you in and tuck you into bed? I will leave after a goodnight kiss.’

She met his gaze with a twinkle in her eye, cocking her head sideways, biting her lip slowly. His eyes followed every little movement. 

‘Think you can handle being in my bedroom just to tuck me in?’

Boy, he didn’t see that coming. Didn’t know she had it in her. It immediately made him even more interested. The open challenge in her eyes, the suggestive tone, and that jutting out bottom lip. That needed to be responded to.

He leaned in and bit down at the same spot on her lower lip, making it sting a bit, then flicking it with his tongue. His hand gripped her bare thigh again, knocking the sass out of her.

‘Lippy. So lippy. I love it.’

He continued rubbing circles on her thigh with his thumb till he drew a moan out of her, despite her biting her cheek to keep it in.

‘Your pretty brain may not approve of me yet, but your body is definitely #TeamJude.’

She gasped, and he chose that moment to lean in for a deep goodnight kiss. Making it wet & sloppy, on purpose, so much so that she had to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand when he was done with her.

‘Sleep tight, dove. Talk to ya tomorrow. And..’

He leaned in to whisper in her ear, enunciating each word.

‘Will think about you tonight. Maybe in the car as well.’

With one last attempted wink, he bid her goodbye and walked out. While she was still perched up on the table, her body tingling everywhere he had touched her, her lips tasting of him, and her mind reeling from what had just happened.

……………………… 

There it is. Was delayed because, well, the pictures threw me off :)

As always, feedback / comments are always welcome. Hope you are enjoying their journey so far!

[mothmanperson]

Picture Unperfect

cw: gender neutral reader, slightly insecure reader, angst, tiniest bit of fluff, reader doesn’t cry, mean frat dude probably, ooc probably

tw: mocking, being made fun of for appearance

well at least until you have the glow-up everyone else seems to be having, or already had, or never needed.

you were so jealous of those people,

and you genuinely never understood how it even came to, that you befriended them.

that they genuinely want to hang out with you in breaks, write you(by their own will, mind you) regularly or ask if you‘d like to go out with them, to a restaurant, expensive ones, your friends seemed to have that money, or amusement parks, or to one of your places.

you were amazed by the fact they simply didn‘t care. they didn’t care that you looked a mess 80% of the time, they didn’t care that you had emotions, that you were more sad and depress at times. your small friend group didn’t care that your room looked how it looked, overlooking the trash mountain by the side of your bed, which you didn‘t have the energy’s to clean up yet.

you were never conventionally attractive. and you never will be, you made peace with that. it was hard, and it still is. every time you come across a reflective surface and catch a peek of yourself you falter, jump at someone you don’t quite recognize. you know those features, all to well, after spending hour standing in front of a mirror, criticizing every wrong placed cell in your body, but they don’t make sense in the way you want them to. your image in your mind is so much different than whatever it is that owlishly blinks back at you.

but after years of yearning to be normal, to look normal, you‘ve come to an agreement with your body and mind, and now you don’t completely hate how you look anymore. it was nice in a way, but it still wasn’t easy.

you felt like you lost so much in your younger years. something you could never recover or catch up on.

conventionally attractive people have it easy, you always thought. sure they might have problems too, but they didn’t wake up with dread, dressing in the biggest and darkest clothes because nothing else felt right on their dirty skin, you always told yourself, in that close mindedness of yours. and that’s okay, somehow this close mindedness brings comfort, just once you only thought of yourself.

conventionally attractive people didn’t have the problem of seeing their friends get pined after left anf right, didn’t have to give advice to a topic they couldn‘t even imagine, and only dream of.

people tend to say ‚your time will come‘ or ‚you will meet someone when you least expect it‘, well…. now you don’t expect it at all anymore, so where is your soulmate? you angrily thought to yourself as a, now ex friend, told you how hard it was to have three people have a crush on her at the same time, because it was so exhausting trying to be nice to them, even if they annoyed her and she only had eyes for one.

‚just block them‘

you once said to which she simply replied

,i don’t want to be mean‘

you stood up and left then and there. your friendship crumbled like ash after. and you never talked again.

romantic interaction and people telling you they like you, romantically or platonically, wasn’t really a thing for you growing up.

one or two friends stayed with you over the years, but the rest you never saw or even talked to anymore.

you often wonder if they think about you as much as you do about them and the way they openly disrespected you and hurt your feelings and you didn’t even get it.

you never had much reassurance growing up that how you looked didn’t matter, that to some people you looked cool, that they wanted to be friends with you because you looked the way you looked.

and that ruined so much for you, most of which you have yet to heal from, yet you’re trying your best.

and then, after you graduated from secondary school, you went off to a technical college. were you met your new friends.

they were so odd and awkward at the beginning. but so were you. you guessed it was destined you got jumbled together into this mess of a group you call friends.

and things finally started to look up. you laughed and cried, shared secrets and insulted each other, it just fit perfectly.

you were oh so greatful to finally find people that you could start to believe, wanted to be friends with you.

even when you started to doubt and ask, they always reassured you, so lovingly, in a way no one else had, you had no other chance than to believe them.

but you have yet to come over the fact that such, ethereal, pretty and handsome people, wanted to be friends, with you, it sounded absurd and made absolutely no sense to you.

all of them were more than just conventionally attractive, and definitely way above ‚over average‘ and they definitely knew, how could they not?

gojo satoru, a tall, white haired dude with big blue eyes was the heartthrob of the school. wearing sunglasses all the time, his laid back and nonchalant personality made him even more popular with everyone but the teachers.

geto suguru was more toned down, a calm and collected individual, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as much of a menace as satoru. his long hair, done in an attractive loose man-bun most of the time, helped bring across his put together yet relaxed persona. and slightly slanted and ever narrowed eyes that gave him such an alluring look that had everyone swooning in secret.

(he even had tunnels, a feature you shared, which made you even more happy, his were just a bit smaller than yours)

and last but not least, shoko leiri, an ever tired, chain smoking woman. her brown hair suited her well, and while controversial, so did her dark circles, it gave her such character you couldn’t even begin to describe. when you looked at her, everything just clicked into place and made sense. having smoker parents yourself, her scent was comforting, oddly enough, mixed with her cherry scented lipgloss (she sometimes shares it with you).

and then there was you… you knew how you looked like, and that’s the exact reason you avoid looking at yourself in group pictures. it was a sweet gesture of them, of course, and you appreciated not being left out, but you simply couldn’t stand seeing yourself next to them. so out of place, so happy yet, it almost disgusted you, you disgusted yourself for ruining such a pretty photo once again.

‚aww, it looks so cute!‘

you excitedly tell your friends as they show you the picture they took of you all while out eating, skillfully ignoring that nauseatingly familiar face, stuffing itself full with food. they don’t notice how you felt, years of covering your disappointment made that possible.

it’s not like you didn’t want them to see or know, because they did, you just… didn’t know how to stop doing it.

if you knew someone, gojo most of the time, took a picture, you took great care in hiding your face, with your hand or a piece of clothing. but sometimes your weren’t fast enough or didn’t notice gojo was taking a picture in the first place. he loved to take those kinds of pictures. and you let him have his fun, admittedly, some of them were really funny and made you laugh aswell, but you‘d never tell them that… they‘d never let you live it down.

it was only one time this kind of escalated into something ugly…

———————————————————————

„oh my god, i look disgusting in this picture..“

„whaaat? no! you look totally cute“

you shot gojo a glare as you continued to look through the plethora of pictures he had taken, physically sick at the way you looked.

it was already evening and the sun just started to set. you and gojo sat on a bench, waiting for geto and shoko to come back from their smoking break. satoru hated the smell and you didn’t smoke anymore so you two always did something else while they killed their lungs.

and today satoru felt like taking pictures, stupid ones that looked ugly no matter how you looked at it, but also some really pretty ones if it wasn’t for you and your little imperfections that only seemed visible to you.

„i’m going to delete them..“

you said, after a lengthy pause and instantly were tackled. gojo put his whole body weight on top of you and reached for his phone, eyes wide and panicked.

„NO YOU‘RE NOT- THOSE PICTURES ARE AMAZING-„

he yelled, or more like whined as he struggled to get ahold of his phone, you kept far away from him. you tried to push him off but to no avail, so you wriggled your way out from beneath him and took some steps back as a precaution.

„nooo- i look awful in these, i’m not gonna let you keep those-..“

you groaned, sidestepping your friends attempt at catching you.

„oh come on, why not? it’s not like anyone is gonna see..“

he tried convincing, stalking closer, eyeing his expensive phone, gripping tightly in your hand.

you faltered a bit, your arm lowering slightly, easily convinced.

„alright, okay“

you sighed out

„but you’re not gonna show anyone else alright? you can send them into the group chat but no showing around..“

you handed him back his phone and he sighed in relief, checking his phone for damage that wasn’t there.

always so quick to exaggerate.

you really hope you could rely on the small chance no one would see.

but alas, you hoped to soon..

days later, in the big break, you sat with suguru, shoko and gojo at a small table at the back of the cafeteria, where you always sat. there was more space for others to sit at but most f the time it was just the four of you.

not today though, some people you didn’t know, but gojo apparently did sat with you for some stupid reason, talking his ear off and taking all his attention.

to say it was awkward would be an understatement. you geto and shoko weren’t quite as extroverted as gojo was, so you didn’t talk, which you were totally okay with, but there were strangers at the table that stared, and talked about topics you didn’t know about. they were loud and unruly, disrespectful and you you could see satoru cringe here and there at something one of the guys said, his phone screen side up layed in front of him, as he played with it impatiently, hoping the guys he knew but really didn’t know would finally leave.

it all happened in a matter of seconds, and gojo received a message, his screen lighting up, showing a dimly lit photo.

it was one from a few days ago, on the bench.

someone stupid and ugly looking sitting right next to him, as if they were on the same level. they shouldn’t even be near him.

thoughts started to crowd their mind, progressively getting worse and worse but you said nothing.

„who is that person with you on that photo?“

one of the guys asked, his voice sounding odd, almost degrading even if he hadn’t said anything bad. you snapped out of your mind, and your eyebrows furrowed. now you felt ashamed.

you could just hope gojo wouldn’t say it wad you, to spare you the embarrassment of being perceived.

„is that your partner?“

another voice called out, less condescending and more curiously before a third voice joined in, grating and mocking tone of voice. it hurt your ears.

„really? you could do better than that, satoru, they look so weird, you can even see their double chin“

the voice laughed, and so did the other’s. all the while your friends already small smile slipped from his face, as now a borderline annoyed expression took it‘s place.

„and such unclear skin“

„and their weight?“

„they look stupid“

„ugly“

„unlovable“

you weren’t quite sure anymore which words your mind made up and which ones were truly spoken, but it mattered little. if you could, you would just love to sink into the ground and never face earth an it’s opponents ever again.

„it doesn’t matter does it?!“

gojo’s uncharacteristically angry voice interrupts, and you were happy it was quiet again.

„how they look doesn’t fucking matter does it? their personality is awesome, unlike yours and they look stunning something you could never achieve, so fuck off..“

it was unusual for gojo to slip out of his happy-go-lucky persona, but this was his friend we‘re talking about, he never held back when it came to his friends.

you didn’t listen what happened after that, leaning onto geto’s shoulder and indulged yourself in your phone, a nice distraction from this escapade.

you knew it didn’t matter, those guys… didn’t matter, but that didn’t make it hurt less. emotions from still open wounds trickled out like cold blood. you took a deep breath as the table got silent again. no one talked. but it wasn’t awkward.

there was just a bitter solemn tension in the air.

you were a bit more reserved after that, quiet and less engaging in silly conversations, and your friends knew to give you a bit of time, they didn’t pity you and kept treating you normally.

but they were a bit more affectionate, especially geto.

gojo kept his distance knowing he was part of the cause, and also because he didn’t know if or how he could apologize.

shoko gave you her silent support, a stable individual you could rely on. and you loved her for that.

it was alright though, you‘ll come around eventually, you always did…

[0cta9on]

Hey Writer-nim✌️, How's it going?.

Me? Nothing much happening this week just casually waiting for your next story, the latest one are great, not my favor the threesome act but if you can treat them equally then it is ok😅

Hey do you want to write a fluff short story of sakura after the recent Coachella,

"Despite all of the criticism she still managed to respond from her side of view. Many would say she's able to handle it all like a tough nut but in reality she needs someone to comfort her. Would you be there for her as someone she most hopes aiding her?"

Hello mikeylo! Sorry for taking so long with this one, life got in the way :,) I hope you like it and hope ur doing good :)

You knock on the door of Sakura’s hotel room with two matcha lattes and a bag of donut holes in your hands. An hour ago, she texted you to come over, so you decided to stop by a cafe for some treats, thinking she’s probably exhausted from performing for the past two days at Coachella. You still get chills just thinking about her on the stage, performing her heart out for thousands of people.

The door swings open, revealing Sakura in an oversized black hoodie, her eyes puffy and red as if she had just been crying. 

“Hey, I got you a couple tr- Oh.” Without a word, she wraps her arms around your torso, planting her face on your chest. “Is something wrong, Sakura?” The only answer she gives you is a long, depressed sigh. 

Carefully, you push her into the room, shutting the door behind you, and sitting her on the bed. Her eyes stay glued to the ground, deep in thought. A million questions flow through your mind as you try to figure out what could have happened between Le Sserafim’s performance and now. Did she get into a fight with one of her members? Did a family member die? Did you do something wrong?

“Sakura, you have to tell me what’s wrong here. I’m really worried about you,” you say, lacing your fingers with her. It takes a couple moments of silence and waiting, but eventually, she faces you, tears threatening to pour from her eyes.

“I-I… I read the comments… about our performance yesterday… a-and…” Her voice falters, cracking like shattered porcelain.  You pull her into a tight embrace as she lightly sobs into your shoulder. Some of the comments you saw online about Le Sserafim’s set were less than favorable, but you know that they’re nothing but a vocal minority. You witnessed firsthand just how amazing they were on stage, even your friends that knew nothing about the group enjoyed it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you whisper soothingly. “I promise you a lot of people loved your performance. You did the best you could and that’s all that matters. Don’t beat yourself up just because some people want to be jerks online.”

Sakura pulls away from you, still sniffling. You wipe away her tears, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Let’s do something fun to cheer you up, okay? You’ve been working for the past two days, I bet you’re exhausted,” you suggest.

“Can we just stay inside for today?” She looks up at you, pleading like a sad puppy. How could you ever say no to that face?

______________________________________________________________

“Yah! Stop spamming that move!”

“Stop getting hit by it, dummy!”

Your character gets launched off the stage, leading to another victory for Sakura Miyawaki. She jumps around the room excitedly, rubbing her win in your face for the umpteenth time.

When Sakura first suggested you play Smash Bros together, you figured you would go easy on her, not wanting to upset her more. However, the more she won, the cockier she became. Eventually, you decided to give it your all, but to your horror, not even your best was enough to defeat her gaming prowess.

“One more round!” She exclaims, the flame of competition burning in her eyes.

You toss your controller away and throw the covers of yourself. “I don’t wanna play with you anymore!” You say jokingly.

“Yah!” Sakura jumps on you and attempts to wrestle the covers away from you. The sound of laughter fills the room, a complete 180 from the depressing atmosphere you walked into a couple hours ago. You would gladly lose to her a million times if it meant getting to see her happy like this everyday.

The tussle ends when both of you collapse on the bed, gasping for breath. You look over at each other, which devolves into another chain of faint laughter. The sunlight peeking through the windows is replaced by the night sky, dotted with beams of light from the California nightlife.

“Oh no, it’s dark out. Guess I have to stay the night,” you tease, pulling Sakura towards you. She rests her head on your chest, filling your nostrils with the clean scent of her shampoo.

“I would like that a lot.” She peers into your eyes with a wide grin. Something about her draws you closer. Maybe it’s the way her eyes gaze so lovingly at you or the way her soft lips curl into a smile that never fails to brighten your day. Maybe it’s the way she works hard at everything she does, even if she’s not immediately good at it, or the way she never fails to bounce back from a struggle. Whatever it is, you find yourself leaning into her, closing your eyes as you anticipate the feeling of her lips.

The initial contact is soft and doughy, notes of sweetness coating your tastebuds. You fall deeper into bliss, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss only for your tongue to be blocked by something that didn’t feel like lips. You open your eyes to Sakura laughing at you while pressing a donut hole against your mouth. A wave of emotions wash over you, most notably embarrassment and shock.

“I-I… Y-you…” You sputter. “I’m leaving.” Jokingly, you jump out of bed and stomp your way towards the door.

“Noooo, wait!” She grabs your wrist and tries to pull you back, but unlike her gaming skills, her physical strength is much weaker than yours, allowing you to pull her into your arms. The two of you giggle as you engage in an impromptu slow dance in the middle of her hotel room, swaying side to side to the beat of an imaginary song that only you can hear. The warmth of her embrace leaves you feeling content and enlightened.

“Thank you for staying with me,” she mutters into your chest.

“Thank you for existing.”

Sakura looks up at you, standing on her tippy toes as she pulls you in for a kiss - a real kiss this time. She sighs happily into your mouth, her steady breath sending shivers on the skin of your cheek. You instinctively grab her waist to keep her balanced, holding her close with no intention of letting her go. The ambience of busy cars and chattering people fade into nothing but an afterthought, leaving you to bask in the intimacy of this perfect night.

[writerfae]

Christmas movie AU Advent Calendar 🎄

Day 3: ✨Christmas Lights✨

Christmas special tag list: @bunnymermaidsblog @deadlycupid @dustylovelyrun @ladywithalamp @sleepy-night-child @theguywithnonickname

That Aiden guy was everywhere.

Talon kept bumping into him. Just like with everything Christmas related in this town, there was no escaping this man either.

Which is why Talon wasn’t at all surprised that he saw him again.

Good, he didn’t expect to see him on the porch roof of the Inn, right outside his bedroom window, but in this town he wouldn’t even be surprised if he’d encounter a flying reindeer there.

So why not.

That didn’t stop him from opening his window and asking: “What are you doing on this roof?”

Aiden startled for a moment and Talon already saw him slipping and falling off the roof because of him.

Luckily that wasn’t the case though and Aiden won back his composure within seconds, trademark grin appearing on his face.

“Ninja practice.”

Talon could only roll his eyes at that, which made Aiden laugh.

“I’m putting up some Christmas lights, Greta asked me to.”

Talon raised an eyebrow in question. “Even more Christmas lights?”

Aiden laughed again.

He should stop doing that, it made Talon’s heart do funny things and he didn’t want to deal with the implications of that right now.

Or ever.

On the other hand, he had to admit that Aiden’s laugh did sound quite nice….

“There’s no such thing as too many Christmas lights.”

Talon was tempted to disagree, but he reckoned it might be unwise.

In this town it was probably a great offense to criticize the Christmas decor and Aiden seemed to be just as much of a Christmas enthusiast as the rest of Woodside.

Aiden seemed to look through him regardless. “Not a big friend of Christmas lights, huh?”

Talon sighed, defeated. “Not a big friend of Christmas in general. Not anymore…”

For a split second the smile slipped from Aiden’s face, his eyebrows scrunching together before his expression went back to normal.

Then a mock offended gasp escaped his lips.

“Don’t let the others hear that, or they’ll have you beheaded,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper.

He meant it as a joke, clearly, but Talon wouldn’t put it past the people here to actually do this, so he grimaced.

Aiden chuckled. “Don’t worry, Mr. Scrooge, I will not tell anyone about your secret.”

Before Talon could decide on whether he should thank him or complain about the stupid nickname, Aiden continued.

“Under one condition.”

Talon groaned. Of course there was a condition. He should’ve expected that.

“What is it?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Aiden held up the fairy light he was holding. “Help me with those!”

Talon snorted. Going up on this roof?

No way.

Still he found himself on said roof beside Aiden anyway, fixating Christmas lights on the already very much like Christmas looking roof.

Greta had been delighted about Talon helping the other man. She even came by to compliment their work and bring them something warm to drink.

“If you work at the Café, how come you decorate the facade of the Inn?” Talon asked as they drank their coffee.

“I don’t work at the Café, not really,” Aiden admitted, taking another sip from his cup. “I just help Maya out there sometimes during holiday season because it’s always so busy in town then and she needs all the help she can get. We’ve been friends ever since kindergarten, so that’s a given.”

He smiled.

“And Greta is an old family friend, so I do her a little favor from time to time. Fixing something here, running an errand there,” he pointed at the Christmas lights. “Help her with decorating…”

So Aiden really was that kind of guy, huh? He probably also saved kittens from trees and helped old ladies to cross the street.

Definitely spoke for Talon’s theory that Aiden was actually a character that had fled from his very own Christmas movie to haunt Talon for always making fun of these kinds of films.

“And what else do you do all day?” Talon felt like if he went in just any random building in this town, he would find Aiden working there. Maybe he didn’t have one set job?

“Oh, this and that,” Aiden answered, smiling behind his cup. “But mainly I work at the Christmas tree farm with my dad.”

It took Talon all his power not to spit out his drink.

“The Christmas tree farm?”

Of course. Of fucking course he worked there. Talon should’ve known. Oh, this was the best and worst thing he had heard ever since he arrived.

“Yeah.” Aiden didn’t seem to want to go into more detail there, much to Talon’s dismay.

But he didn’t want to ask either to not seem suspicious.

Aiden put his cup aside and stood up. “Well, let’s continue.”

And they did, without Aiden losing another word about his job at the farm. He seemed to be a little more in his thoughts ever since their conversation. Talon wondered why, but didn’t comment on it.

“Aiden, dear,” Greta said when they were done. “This looks beautiful. Thank you so much.”

She turned to Talon. “And thank you, too, Mr.-“

“Talon is fine,” he interrupted her quickly.

He didn’t know why, but he felt like it was better that Aiden didn’t know about his last name. When he worked at the farm maybe he’d know about Talon’s company’s interest in the grounds of the farm.

He couldn’t risk that.

The old woman smiled. “Talon, then.”

Talon returned the smile, then he turned to the decorated Inn and he had to admit, it wasn’t all too bad.

“Your house looks very nice, Miss Greta,” he said and the woman’s smile grew even more.

“Thank you! But you should see some of the other houses here, they look even better.” She grabbed Aiden’s arm.

“Maybe you could show him around, boy, you know the best spots in town.”

Aiden smiled at her apologetically. “I don’t think Talon wants to-“

“I do,” Talon said. “I mean. I’d like to. If you’d like to. Yeah.”

Very eloquent, Talon, he scolded himself. But Aiden didn’t seem to mind. Quite contrary, he looked delighted.

“Great! Then let’s meet here tomorrow afternoon and I show you around town.”

Well, that would be interesting.

[rendy-a]

amh if possible could hoy make hdcns for the dorm leaders ( separately ) reacting to their mc fem explaining the marvel universe and then puts them to watch the movies hehe ( ..also mc's fav hero is dead-pool ;) bc it gives me laugh imagine their reactions about this xd) , thanks in advance and take care<33

This certainly ended up being a little bit of a crack fic but it ended up amusing. Hope you enjoy it.

At first, he scoffs as such a time-wasting thing as wanting to watch dozens of movies.  Where is the educational value in this?

He is just too polite to refuse to listen, so he’ll end up letting you describe all your favorite scenes to him.

You are better off if he doesn’t take an interest because, if he does, he is going to turn into the worst sort of comic book geek.  Be ready to have him quote lore from issues of source material at you during any discussion on this from now on.

What do you mean who would win?  In Volume 3 #3, Thor clearly defeated Iron Man.  Don’t get upset Prefect, I don’t write the lore, I just recite it.

Doesn’t appear to be interested but, if you pause long enough, he’ll prompt you to go on.  It’s important to you, so he’ll try to care at least a little.

You’d never tell him this, but you love to banter with him because it reminds you of your favorite character.  Sometimes you wonder if he’d be pleased or offended to know who you remind him of.

Movie marathons?  Not only is he willing to do them with you, but he is also often the one who suggests them.  Don’t be deceived though, it’s not for the movie but for the quality nap time on the couch with you. 

Don’t turn that off, Herbivore, I’m watching it.  What do you mean I don’t know what’s going on?  This is the part where we learn her mom isn’t dead after all.  So quiet down and keep the lights off.

Please, he is in Board Game Club with Idia. You think this is the first time he has hmmm’d himself through a conversation about fictional characters?

Wait, you say that this makes a ton of money?  Tell him more about this merchandising and licensing.  Especially that, what do you call it…ah, Happy Meal.

You can eventually talk him into watching the movies with you for ‘research purposes.’  When you do, you can’t help but notice how teary-eyed he gets at the sad scenes.  He’s just so sensitive!

Deadpool is also his favorite character.  He feels a sort of connection to certain parts of his story.

So, she chooses to stay with him even though he looks like that?  No, I’m not blubbering.  No, I don’t need you to cuddle with me.  Ok, fine.  Just for a little while. 

He doesn’t get it, but he still loves it.  Sure, you have to explain everything to him three times, but he gets excited over your excitement.  Call him any time to talk about your theories on how things would have gone if Thanos had made a different wish on the infinity gauntlet.  He doesn’t mind if it’s 3 AM (just don’t let Jamil find out).

Movie marathons turn into parties.  Why just watch the movies when you can have themed snacks and dress up too?  Hulk smash cakes and Black Widow berry cobbler?  Yes, please.

His favorite part of any film is the soundtrack.  If he hears a song he likes, he gets up to dance along.  It’s pretty disruptive when you are watching the movie but when you see how much fun he is having, you find you don’t really mind after all.

Sorry Prefect, Jamil says we can’t have dance battles in Scarabia anymore.  Ooh!  But come by the Pop Music Club later.  I’m going to play all my favorite songs for Cater and Lilia. Ahaha!

You were worried Vil would dismiss your favorite Marvel films as inferior art, but he is actually rather generous about it.  He believes the film should suit the audience and, as so, there is nothing wrong with films like this that serve to entertain the masses.

Still, he can’t help but be critical of everything while you watch.  He doesn’t criticize the things you’d talk about with your friends but topics you’d hardly even notice while you watched like the set design and lighting.

You notice Vil seems secretly fond of Loki.  You think the idea of the Villain that survives the main movies to get his own spotlight series appeals to him.

No, Potato, I’m just saying the angle isn’t right for this sort of tone.  A shot from below would be more effective.  Plus…wait, are you having more popcorn?  I don’t think so, it’s past the time you can snack before bed.

You had expected Idia to be all in on the Marvel Universe but, at first, he is oddly resistant to it.  He’d rather recommend you one of his own favorite hero movies.  If you disagree on which is better, he is more than willing to fight with you over why his is best!

After a heated argument, he puts on some of the movies to watch so he can come up with targeted points about why his own shows are better.  This does not work out for him as he gets sucked in himself.  Next time you meet up, he wants to go over tiny bits of lore and speculate on future plot lines from hints in the past movies.

You might think his favorite would be Iron Man because they both are innovative engineers, but he is a fan of Ant Man.  Shrinking down to a size where you can hide from everyone; it’s an introvert’s dream!

Prefect, this is serious business!  I’ve drawn up plans.  So long as we sleep only 2 hours a day and avoid taking any breaks for food, studying, and showers, we can finish at least three seasons this weekend.  True fans like us need to be ready to sacrifice for the shows we love!

There are many things Tusnotarou doesn’t understand, and this is one of them.  For starters, he barely knows how to use his smartphone, let alone how to stream movies and shows.  So, before you can even start explaining the plot, you must explain the whole concept of series and interconnecting shows to him.

He doesn’t get it, but he is happy to watch with you.  Your reactions to the show are far more amusing to him than the actual show.  Plus, he feels like he learns so much about the human world from your conversations.  A subway, how intriguing an idea.  Humans are so fascinating.

Even though he watches politely, he isn’t very impressed.  They can fly?  Well so can he.  Magic, lightning, superstrength?  All just part of being a dragon.  Perhaps instead of being interested in these superheroes, you’d rather learn more about him?

 Lilia, do you think I am a superhero?  The Prefect has been explaining this concept to me in great detail lately.  I can’t help but notice the many things I have in common with these so-called heroes.  Why yes, Lilia, now that you mention it, I am wearing a cape.  Another point in my favor. Fu fu fu.    

[eightsixtiism]

https://www.tumblr.com/eightsixtiism/767309836702646272/its-honestly-so-dumb-that-the-only-evidence-that

adding onto this, people act as if lando has always disrespected max, or used max in some ways or the other.

they’ve known each other since 2012-2013, so clearly they have a lot of respect for each other (or at least, lando does). max is in the top 3 friends list for lando, and verstannies just conveniently forget that because they don’t like him. i don’t understand why they don’t like him, honestly, because i don’t think lando has ever done outwardly disrespectful to max. the simply love was not a dig, but banter between friends who have known each other for a decade. max did not “claim his catchphrase” again in brazil. it was something he said. so fucking what. yknow, i want lando to “claim” the simply lovely in lv. if that’s disrespect according to verstannies, then idk what they classify max’s behaviour as that, because his behaviour is way worse than anything lando has ever done. in a mental health charity stream, making fun of two of the biggest mental health advocates in f1 (lando and george) was disrespectful. making racist comments, making a joke out of child abuse, those things are disrespectful. in comparison, lando’s barely been disrespectful (as far as i know), and im not saying that to baby him, but because out of every interview, every interaction i’ve seen on media, this is the truth that i’ve seen, despite asshole journalists trying to change the narrative for more engagement.

hell, if lando’s ever been properly disrespectful (like after hungary with lewis), i’ll take full fucking responsibility as a lando fan. but, i need more than one example as compared to max’s list.

apparently, i have a lot to say on this, im sorry.

don't even apologise, because they really over exaggerate lando's behaviour when max is way way worse, and they'll still stand beside that man through anything.

i meant that reclaiming thing as a (half) joke, meant to stay in the lando tag, but now that max fan's are coming at me like a force, idec anymore. let lando do whatever, and if it's by saying max's phrase, or something of the sort, then so be it. i'm actually so fucking tired with max fans thinking that just because their driver got handed championships riddled with corruption/controversy, that suddenly every criticism against him is unjustified and disrespectful. cry me a river

[razorblade180]

Veronica:Hey Ma? How you feel if I just…wasn’t good enough at something?

Yang:Can’t win everything. What’s important is do your best and-

Veronica:No. I mean…what if I’m at the end? That my best is always behind others. What if there’s no “getting them next time” for me?

Yang:…If you can only run half of a race, I’ll walk the other half to congratulate you. Your best isn’t defined by being the top with me or your mother. That goalpost is always right where you need it to be as long as you try.

Veronica:…And if I want to altogether after countless attempts? *tears up*

Yang:…If it’s truly what you want, then I’d tell you that you fought well. As long as you never give up the fights that truly, deeply matter to you.

Veronica:I…I don’t think I want to design clothes anymore. Not matter what I do it doesn’t feel fun, rewarding, or…worth it. Gods, it really doesn’t feel worth it. I know how much money you poured into that school but-

Yang:*gently hugs her* You fought well.

Just like that, a fiery young woman drowned in sorrow as she wept in anger, disappointment, and utter embarrassment. Even in a room with a captive audience with no criticism, felt as if she was being judged. Still, she allowed herself to weep and believe her mother’s words.