#also makes for the worst ever tinder comparison

[ipsiducis]

[peterpan-in-neverland]

2020 Fanfic Roundup

I’m following the same format as @catty-words​ so if I did it wrong... well, you can guess who I will be blaming (love you, Cori). Anyway, here I go!

Total Word Count of 2020: 112,490

Total Hits of 2020: 16,321

Other 2020 AO3 Stats: KUDOS: 1,320 COMMENTS: 197 BOOKMARKS: 149

(just for comparison)

Total Word Count of 2019: 19,242

Link and Titles to Works of 2020:

[Law & Order: Special Victims Unit] Too Close (5,342 words) - post “A Midnight in Manhattan” Amanda and Sonny discuss things she thought they would never bring up

[Never Have I Ever] Never Have I Ever… Hooked Up With My Arch-Nemesis (4,834 words) - In which Devi wants Ben to shut the hell up after she finds out he got into Princeton

[Never Have I Ever] Anemoia (n.) (2,641 words) - Rebecca is much more than just Paxtons sister

[Never Have I Ever] Sonder (n.) (11,615 words) - Five times Ben and Devi realize the other is human, and the one time it changes things

[Anne With an E] Flashover (n.) (6,986 words) - Gilbert runs a flower shop that Anne visits once a week

[Never Have I Ever] Agnosthesia (n.) (1,530 words) - the order of things about Ben that Devi falls in love with

[Never Have I Ever] let there be damage ensued and tabloid news (5,806 words) - five times Ben realizes Devi is beautiful and the one time she realizes he is beautiful, too

[Never Have I Ever] and that kind of love (2,391 words) - Paxton rescues a drunk Eleanor from a party

[Never Have I Ever] don’t expect me to play fair (5,049 words) - Eleanor is getting anonymous flowers after every performance on her first Broadway show.

 [Never Have I Ever] Ecstatic Shock (n.) (6,669 words) - Eleanor tries to have a simple rebound with a Tinder date that turns out to be Paxton Hall-Yoshida

 [Never Have I Ever] Pâro (n.) (7,328 words) - Devi asks Ben to fake being her boyfriend for a party, and everything goes wrong

 [Never Have I Ever] our coming of age has come and gone (7,566 words) - five times someone implied that Ben and Devi like each other, and the one time they admit it

 [Never Have I Ever] tried to change the ending (5,012 words) - Devi looks back on the track of her and Ben's relationship

 [Never Have I Ever] tossing pennies in the pool (4,585 words) - in the wake of Devi's breakup with Paxton, she attempts to figure out who she is

 [Never Have I Ever] rock n roll is here to stay (4,132 words) - in which Devi considers Ben and herself

 [Anne With an E] just think of the fun things we could do (5,722 words) - Anne reappears in Gilberts life

 [Never Have I Ever] and why i’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words (16,724 words) - Paxton and Eleanor run into each other at the Sherman Oaks class of 2023 reunion

 [Never Have I Ever] Worlds of Starlight (8,558 words) - in 1878, when Shadowhunters begin to go missing, Ben Gross' search leads him to the doors of the London Institute-- run by the Vishwakumar family-- where Mohan Vishwakumar has just vanished

Favourite Fic: I really really loved my Rebecca fic, but I am also a little weak for coming of age

Hardest Fic: Worlds of Starlight has been the most difficult to write, in terms of risks being taken and just plain cultural things-- writing for characters you dont share a culture with is really hard because of nuances and such-- and I also had a bit of a hard time with tabloid news

Do you plan to take prompts in 2021?

I would love to take prompts! Alas, I am bad at writing them and overall I am not a very popular person or writer-- all of my interactions on my work are because my friends list them on fic rec pages and they are all cool and popular blogs-- so people do not tend to come to me seeking custom works. It would be lovely, though! Perhaps I should make a post about which fandoms I will write for… 

What was the best thing about 2020?

@catty-words @parkersedith @montygreen @feisties ← meeting them and tricking them into believing that I am worthy of their friendship and entrance into the writing squad

What was the worst thing about 2020?

Um… everything?

Any last thoughts for 2020?

Goodbye and thank you for NHIE

Goals for 2021:

Less fanfic related guilt (in terms of productivity) 

Actually get some prompts and have good ideas for them

Posting my friends birthday fics on their actual birthdays instead of a million years late (or not at all-- sorry, my loves)

I want to finish Worlds of Starlight and maybe come of with a better name for it

Maybe break 150K? Or 200K? That would be neat. And garner some more appreciation for eleanor/paxton, obviously

[killherfreakout]

i’ve got the touch placebo

elu au / 5.2k words

“You don’t remember a lot of things.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

or: Lucas kissed Eliott after a few too many one night; three times Eliott almost brings it up, and the one time he does.

:readmore:

It all started by accident, really. Eliott falling for Lucas, that is. He’s always had a little crush on his best friend, but one night changed everything. 

It all started when Lucas kissed him. But, you see, that’s the problem - that was months ago. Lucas kissed him, and absolutely nothing was different between them. Eliott doesn’t know if Lucas just regrets it and pretends it didn’t happen, or if he’s waiting for Eliott to bring it up, or worse: he doesn’t remember.

Sure, Lucas may have had a few too many that night, but was it really enough to make him forget? Enough to have absolutely no memory of something that completely turned Eliott’s world upside down?

If a drunken kiss was all it really was, Eliott doesn’t know what to do. But if it was more, he wouldn’t know the first thing either.  

Sometimes Eliott thinks he’s got enough love for the both of them, and perhaps that is enough. Or at least he’s trying to convince himself that it is.

*

Eliott is perched on the edge of Emma’s balcony where he slipped out of the party going on inside, opting for some fresh air and a smoke. The gang and the girls are celebrating the end of terminale and Eliott comes to join the fun even though he has another uni exam before he’s finally free. It’s a warm summer night and a slight breeze offers some relief from the muggy air and crowded apartment. The moon keeps him company until he’s joined by another warm body in search of his.

Lucas nearly trips over the lip of the balcony door and giggles at his own misstep. Eliott tries his best not to laugh, but a small chuckle escapes, earning him a retort from the other boy.

“Hey! Are you laughing at me?” Lucas asks after he tips back the rest of the bottle of vodka he’s holding, his voice higher than normal and cracking towards the end. It’s way too endearing for Eliott that he smiles around the rolled paper between his lips.

He doesn’t respond, and next thing he knows, Lucas lunges forward and snatches the joint right out of his hand in retaliation. Eliott looks at him in disbelief and Lucas has a devilish grin on his face, again way too endearing to be taken seriously. 

Lucas tilts his chin and chest out with pride and brings the joint to his lips. He takes a long hit, breathing in deep and feeling the strength of the weed. He coughs and hands the joint back to its owner as he recovers.

“That is good shit, fuck,” Lucas adds when he regains his breath. “And expensive, I bet.”

Eliott does one of his signature shrugs. “I know a guy” is all he says to that.

Lucas scoffs at his smug reply and comes to join him on the edge of the balcony. He sits on the ledge with his back against the wall and hugs his legs close to his chest. Eliott’s heart skips a beat at how small he looks.

Lucas unwraps his arms and reaches one out to Eliott, a gap between his first and second fingers in a silent plea for the joint again. Eliott obliges and transfers it to him, hands touching for a fleeting moment - the weed is nothing in comparison to the high he gets from moments like this.

There’s a wrinkle in Lucas’ brow when he notices something. The joint in his hand points to Eliott’s, specifically a faint smudge of black on his right hand. 

“Otteli strikes again?” Lucas is amused at himself and Eliott tries not to indulge him. “I’m best friends with a famous urbex artist, I might have to use that as a pick up line someday.”

The words cut deep coming from him. Sometimes Eliott forgets about his enormous crush on his best friend because everything is so easy with them, but other times - like this - it’s hard to forget. Eliott hides behind the smoke, hoping his face doesn’t give him away.

“I‘m not sure how effective that will be, but...” he raises his hands in acquiescence. 

“Of course it will work!” Lucas’ voice is wet and nasaly and still fucking adorable. “I mean, you’re basically the French Banksy.”

“I wish,” Eliott laughs. “They’re rich and not just tagging places with their spirit animal.” He picks at his cuticles and stares at the remnants of spray paint on his skin, suddenly insecure and words sounding more bitter than he planned.

Something changes on Lucas’ face. “Your tag is fucking cool!” His face goes back to before, features softened by the weed and alcohol aglow in the city lights and embers of the joint. 

Eliott’s heart keeps skipping a beat at every compliment, but especially at the adorable declaration of the love of his silly signature raccoon tag.

“And need I remind you that you’re rich? I mean,” Lucas pinches the joint between his thumb and forefinger, raising it to prove his point.

Lucas hops down from the ledge and stumbles a bit; he finds the vodka bottle again and frowns when he realizes he already emptied it. 

“I may need to marry rich, what with the way my bac went, to be honest.” Lucas is walking across the balcony, bringing the heel of one shoe in front of the toes of the other, wobbling with each step.

He looks extremely focused even though his movements are lazy and slow. And suddenly he gasps as a lightbulb goes off in his head, face lighting up -  both Lucas and Eliott’s. “I know! I’ll just marry you if it doesn’t work out. There, problem solved.”

And no amount of warning could prepare Eliott for a sentence like that coming out of Lucas’ mouth. This time his heart drops straight down to the street two stories below.

Lucas nearly faceplants when he steps on his own shoelace, but Eliott slides off the ledge in time to catch him before he falls. They lock eyes for what feels like the first and only time ever; Lucas’ intense, big, blue doe eyes meeting his and quite literally steal his breath away.

Lucas retreats from their embrace for another hit, the joint burning shorter and shorter.

Eliott sputters, trying to think of a way to change the subject before he melts into a puddle. “We won’t be getting married if you keep smoking all of my weed,” he tries as a comeback. 

Lucas looks up at him like a deer in headlights or a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. He looks down at the joint that has about one hit left in it, then that devilish look grows on his face once again.

Eliott swears that time stops just for them as he watches every move Lucas makes like it’s at half speed. The joint is closed between Lucas’ bitten lips, and suddenly Eliott feels the smoke in his lungs when the other boy leans forward and presses their lips together.

It’s so sudden and unexpected that it makes Eliott’s mouth open wider in a gasp, and Lucas takes it as an invitation to test the waters. He slips a tongue into Eliott’s open mouth, and Eliott thinks he is in both heaven and hell. 

Eliott instinctively reciprocates the kiss until he gets a grip and tastes the alcohol on Lucas’ tongue, reminding him of the fact that Lucas is not sober enough to warrant this. He pulls back, cheeks flushed, but Lucas looks unaffected - like nothing earth-shattering just happened.

Eliott’s phone rings in his pocket; turns out Idriss left his keys at the apartment and needs Eliott to let him in.

Lucas notices the interruption and, with a gravelly voice, says, “Sorry about the weed,” before stepping inside, tripping on the threshold again.

Eliott stares at the moon high in the sky who was witness to his entire world being flipped upside down. He takes a deep breath and walks down the stairs to retrieve his heart from the ground. 

1. 

Eliott is sitting on the dock of the lake with his feet dipping into the crystal blue water below, weight held up by his arms outstretched behind him. The remaining droplets on his tanning skin quickly evaporate into the warm summer air, leaving a cool sensation in their wake. 

There’s some shouting and splashing from the far side of the lake where Basile, Arthur, and Yann are jumping off the neighbor’s dock and trampoline. Eliott had his fun with them earlier and went for a cooldown on his own while he watched the guys perform backflip after backflip.

The usual suspects have all traveled to Arthur’s beach house to kick off the gang’s last summer before they go separate ways for university. The girls are here too; they went inside to fix dinner for everyone while the boys spent the sun’s dying hours out on the water.

Lucas is swimming his way back over to Arthur’s dock and Eliott sits up in anticipation of his return. 

It’s been a total of 72 hours since the night of the party. The night that the love of Eliott’s life and best friend of over 10 years had kissed him. Not so accidentally, but also not quite on purpose.

He hadn’t even had a full conversation with Lucas since that night - the day after the other boy had the world’s worst hangover, the next Eliott was taking his last final exam of the semester, and then they were at the lake. Lucas had fallen asleep against the window for most of the car ride and every other waking moment was full of Basile’s ill-timed jokes and Emma’s ramblings over her recent Tinder dates. 

In other words, there was no appropriate time or place to bring up the situation. No opportunity to ask, hey, remember when you kissed me haha? And Eliott didn’t want to say it like that, so nonchalant and in sing-song with a poke to the ribs. Because it meant something to him, more than he ever thought a drunken kiss could, and because it would kill him to make Lucas think that it meant anything less. 

It’s like that night Lucas gave him this enormous heavy feeling but in a physical form - held it in his hands and said here, hold this and left, but not without Eliott’s heart. And Eliott was left holding on to it, this thing he couldn’t quite find the word or feeling for, and a hole where his heart should be. And it’s softened now, melted, turned to liquid and still losing shape. And with every glance and hidden smile more and more slips from his hands. 

Eliott is violently brought back to his senses when everything in his vision is darkened by the shadow of Lucas climbing up the ladder of the dock and blocking the setting sun. Eliott’s eyes involuntarily rake down the boy before him, all sun-soaked skin and water dripping from every pore. He catches himself after a second too long, obvious even under the sunglasses he has on. He tilts his head back up to Lucas standing at the edge of the dock - taller than him for once - and the sight makes Eliott’s insides shift. 

Eliott’s eyes adjust to the lack of direct sunlight, squinting up at him. He watches as Lucas brings both of his hands through his wet locks, putting his skin on display as the water that Eliott swam in returns to the air, reflecting what’s left of the day’s rays as they go. Eliott feels a shiver run down his spine - be it at the sight in front of him or the now dry surface of his own skin.

“You coming?”

Before he realizes, there’s a hand being offered to him. Eliott’s brain is a few steps behind and he takes the hand when it catches up. Lucas pulls him up and he’s back to being the taller one, although he still feels at Lucas’ mercy. 

Lucas leads the way back to the house, leaving wet footprints on the dock and concrete of the patio. Eliott follows and uses the prints as relief from the scorching surface. Lucas grabs the towel hanging on the patio chair, rubs it into his wet hair, then lets the damp material hang around his neck. 

And there it is, finally: a moment where he could bring it up. A chance to give back the heavy, shifting feeling he’s been holding since. Ask him if he remembers, if he meant it, if he regrets it. The shapeless thing he carries starts to move again, starts to form into something akin to the shape he was given. He can give it back. 

Eliott stands there looking at Lucas, eyes flicking down to the lips he can’t stop thinking about on his own. They’re red and chapped now, a product of sun and salt. He holds in a breath and forces his eyes up to Lucas’, which are darting around the patio looking for something. 

The moment is there and then it’s gone - and the thing starts to slip yet again, just as the water had off of Lucas’ back. 

“Hey, did you bring any chapstick, by chance?” Lucas asks when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

That’s another thing that happens sometimes: Eliott thinks about something and the next minute Lucas brings it up, or vise versa. Like noticing his chapped lips conjured Lucas to search for relief. 

“Uh, yeah.” Eliott walks over to the bedroom he and Lucas and Arthur share through the back door and returns with it. 

He hands it over to Lucas; the gesture feels strangely intimate given the context of Eliott’s feelings toward him, the context that their lips have touched now. It feels coded with something more than a favor for a friend, and hurts more than it should. 

“Thanks,” Lucas says before removing the cap and pushing the balm onto the split skin. 

Eliott can imagine the minty balm stinging the cracks in the other boy’s lips and swears he can feel the same tingly sensation on his own, even without having used it all day. 

It’s entirely innocent, but it gets Eliott’s heartbeat to quicken at the thought of using the chapstick after him. It doesn’t have to mean anything - Lucas borrowing his chapstick - but it does. It’s as if the tube of balm is a placebo for the real thing - having his lips pressed to Lucas’ again - but still just as effective. 

And technically another moment presents itself: the topic of lips, specifically both of theirs, sharing something like the lip balm. 

Think, Eliott, think. He could casually comment on the party, ask how bad the hangover was, anything to get the ball rolling. But the second Lucas returns his gaze and places the tube in his hands again, all rational thought leaves his mind at once. 

The silence is starting to grow uncomfortable until Lucas breaks it.

“How was your exam, by the way?” He shoves some hair behind his ear and rubs his lips together to spread the product.

“Uh, it was fine,” Eliott answers, watching the movement. Something blooms in his chest at Lucas asking about it, the genuine curiosity present on his golden face.

Say something, anything about the party. 

He gets an idea. 

“You know—” He stops when Lucas puts the towel back on the chair to dry. The remaining sunlight hits just right, the balm on his lips shiny and intoxicating. Eliott swallows and starts again. “You know, if college doesn’t work out I could always marr—” 

“Lucas, there you are!” Arthur shouts as the trio come walking through the patio to get inside.

The look on the younger boy’s face turns bright at the sight of his friends, high points of his cheeks dusted pink with sun and stars sprinkled on his nose in the form of freckles. Yann shoves his shoulder and the skin turns white before returning to the pinkish tan. The skin is soon covered in cotton when Lucas shrugs his shirt on. 

Lucas bites the corner of his bottom lip and gives Eliott a glance over his shoulder when he follows the guys inside - a glance that could be saying something, but Eliott’s not sure what.

Eliott makes his way to the kitchen and pours some drinks and thanks the girls for preparing the meal. Everyone sits around the counter and some at the table nearby; Lucas takes the seat across from him. 

There’s chatter between the girls and the gang that Eliott feels slightly disconnected from, but he focuses on filling his empty stomach with food. 

“Eli, what were you going to say, outside?” Lucas inquires, not in a whisper but not loud enough to draw attention towards them.

And there’s another moment, right there for the taking. Lucas literally asks about it - possibly without even intending to. 

Lucas looks at him while taking another bite then puts his fork down to take his napkin and wipe the pasta sauce - and chapstick - off his mouth. 

Eliott’s chest feels tight again, the heavy feeling still there but no longer physically. No way he can hold it and give it back now. The moment is gone like the sun for the day, only leaving what it has touched behind.

The placebo burns a hole in the pocket of his boardshorts. “It was nothing.”

2.

Eliott hates drinking. He’s not a fan of the taste of beer, wine is okay only if it’s expensive, and liquor is gross unless mixed with so much sugar that makes the hangover even worse than straight alcohol.

He finds himself in a gay bar with Lucas celebrating Mika’s half-birthday because Mika decided that ‘6 months is too long’ to celebrate.

It has now been two months since the kiss and neither of them have said a word about it. The unnamed thing Lucas dropped into his hands has vanished, no way of returning it to its owner. Every day is harder to pretend and even harder to speak up. 

The birthday boy is already on his way to being wasted living it up on the dance floor and Eliott sits next to Lucas at the bar. Lucas is on his second beer and Eliott has a melting vodka tonic in front of him. The DJ takes a short break and the music changes to quieter radio jams through the house speakers instead of the mixing table.

“So?” Lucas asks behind his beer bottle, tilting his chin in the direction of a handsome guy across the bar. “Aren’t you gonna go over there and talk to him?”

Eliott looks at the sweaty glass on the countertop and quickly glances over to the him Lucas refers. He picks up the glass and raises it in the guy’s direction as a thank you and sips the thin black straw. It’s strong but watery and makes his lips pucker.

“Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to make the move?” Eliott answers Lucas’ question with one of his own and flags the bartender for water instead.

Lucas points to the drink. “Well, technically, he already did.” Eliott huffs. 

The music picks up again as the DJ puts on another mix, volume even louder than before, or perhaps it’s just loud in comparison to the radio.

Eliott raises his voice and leans into Lucas’ ear. “What if I’m not interested?”

When he pulls back, they share a look similar to the one at Arthur’s lakehouse with the same indescribable meaning. There’s also something different this time in the way Lucas intentionally keeps his gaze. 

It’s dark on this side of the club but when the flashing lights hit the side of Lucas’ face he notices the contrast of his crystal eyes and his blown pupils. Eliott thinks if he stares any longer he’ll drown in their oceans.

To stay afloat, Eliott turns back toward the mirrored wall behind the bar and grabs his water to sip. The second the liquid touches his tongue he realizes it’s not the water he reached for, but the vodka soda. He winces in reaction and shoves the glass toward the lip of the counter out of his reach.

He can feel Lucas’ eyes on him and then in the direction of the sender of the drink. Eliott gathers the courage to look again, but he shouldn’t have - the determined scowl of his brow hurts more than the back of his throat when he puts together what Lucas plans to do.

Lucas reaches for the drink at the edge of the bar and brings it to his lips, tongue darting out to catch the thin black straw he closes his lips around, downing as much of the concoction as he can stomach. 

Still looking at the guy across the bar, Lucas says, “Then I’ll tell him you say thanks for the drink.” 

Eliott’s soul is soaked when he sees the blue of Lucas' glance as he makes his way over to the other end of the bar.

Over the next two hours Eliott nurses his glass of water from his seat and tortures himself by watching Lucas dance dangerously close to the stranger that hit on him with a new drink in hand.

Eliott directs his attention to the glass Lucas emptied when it gets too much to bear. The black straw sits in the glass of ice staring him down and he gets a new urge to drink the remnants of alcohol from it. Perhaps it’s a new prescription of placebo that would work better than the drink itself.

Eliott steps out for a cigarette later, in need of the fresh air more than the smoke in his lungs, but it gives him something to do instead of sulking in a room of dancing strangers. 

Lucas comes to find him minutes after, no handsome stranger on his arm. 

“Okay. My head hurts so bad I can’t stay a second longer,” he says instead of a greeting, words slurred and movements wobbly. 

“Where’s Mika?” Eliott asks, helping him stand up straighter.

Lucas giggles. “He went home with a guy like two hours ago.”

“Oh,” he hadn’t even noticed. “What about the guy and the drink?” Eliott clenches his jaw and looks around expecting him to show up.

Lucas giggles again, and the sound makes Eliott’s heart flutter - it flutters then stops at what he says next.

“Don’t worry, Demaury, no one is coming between our eventual marriage.”

Eliott trips on a bump in the sidewalk and Lucas falls into his side. 

And just like that, he’s back at the lake again – the sting of a moment there and gone – and he’s sinking deeper and deeper.

3.

Everything seems to happen by accident ever since the night on the balcony. 

Eliott hadn’t even planned on going back to Lucas’ flat, but after the party was shut down prematurely, Lucas asked if he wanted to come inside for another beer. And it’s not like Eliott had the heart to say no. He definitely didn’t plan to stay this late, but he also doesn’t want to leave.

“I thought you said you were going to lay off the weed now that you’re ‘taking your studies seriously.’” Eliott grins as he watches Lucas light the joint hanging from his lips. 

“I don’t remember saying that,” says Lucas, leaning his head back on the couch and releasing smoke from his lips. 

His pursed lips carve out the hollows of his cheekbones and plants a rather dirty image in Eliott’s mind. The movement also makes his hair bounce a little; it’s messy and fluffy from when he shrugged his hoodie off when they came inside. Eliott has to busy his hands with the frayed edge of his jeans so as to not reach out and touch.

Eliott pivots from his stare and instead laughs at Lucas’ nonchalance and the irony that he said that while high.

Lucas’ eyes stay closed for a moment before slowly blinking them back open. His long lashes fan over his cheeks like that of a renaissance painting as he’s bathed in a muted golden light from the kitchen. The eyes underneath them look tired, probably due to the lack of sleep that comes with the first year of university Eliott knows too well. The oceans of blue aren’t any less breathtaking, though; Eliott has to look away before he drowns in them once again.

Eliott takes a sip from the plastic cup he filled with water once it was empty of beer. He feels his heart shift and twists in his chest like it does when he looks at Lucas too long, performing a somersault when he feels the ghost of those lips on his. 

Eliott’s words just slip out, his mumbling echoes in the plastic pressed to his lips. “Yeah, you don’t remember a lot of things.” 

It’s almost quiet enough that he could have gotten away with it, but not quite. He can tell he’s been caught by the furrow of Lucas’ brow and the confused tilt of his head - which is way more endearing than it should be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

Lucas slowly wets his lips and worries one between his teeth in anticipation. It’s like a knife to Eliott’s gut, piercing through his heart where it rests there. 

Eliott scrambles for an answer, panicking and lacking the courage to tell the truth. “I mean maybe this is all going to your head.” He makes a vague gesture to the smoke wafting the air between them. Not like he meant anything else.

Lucas takes a page out of his book and gives him a one-shouldered shrug before sitting up and putting out the joint in the ashtray on the coffee table. He takes a moment like he’s trying to decide his next move, then gets up and runs a hand through his hair. God, that hair.

He goes to the kitchen and cleans up, leaving Eliott to sit in the awkward space he left. Eliott takes his phone out of his pocket and checks his notifications, noticing it’s already almost 4am. As in, no buses back to his place at this hour.

“Maybe you’re right. I’m super tired so,” Lucas turns his body in the direction of his bedroom indicating he’s going to turn in.

“Yeah, um,” is all Eliott can find in response, shifting on the couch to settle into a position for sleep.

“Come on, Eliott, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s fine—”

“You’re literally too tall and don’t even fit on that couch. Come on,” Lucas insists, cracking a smile.

And what is he supposed to do, deny him? 

So they fall asleep in Lucas’ bed — without bringing up the kiss. Eliott doesn’t know how much longer he can breathe under the pressure. 

+1

Eliott startles awake with Lucas too close for comfort; they’re facing each other in the middle of the bed even though there’s plenty of room on either side.

Lucas is wearing an expression he’s never seen before, although he never seems to be able to read him these days. Eliott wants to ask about it, but gets lost in those eyes again, looking tired but somehow refreshed like he’s been awake for a while.

And Lucas does that thing again, bringing up what he’s thinking without fail.

“We’re okay, right?” Lucas asks softly, like the words burn on his tongue as he says them.

Eliott studies his face again, an openness to it that wasn’t there before – like he wants to talk about it seriously this time, no more dancing around.

“Yeah, of course,” he takes a breath and lowers his tone, matching the sincerity of Lucas’, “Why wouldn’t we be?”

 Lucas twists his mouth and answers, “I just, I feel like things have been weird between us since Mika’s half-birthday. Is there— did I do something?”

And do something he did - he brought up their wedding talk on the way home and basically confirmed he remembers that night at Emma’s, and maybe the kiss. But Eliott can’t find it in him to ask, but can’t stand not asking any longer.

Lucas looks expectant now, an adorable wrinkle forms on his forehead and those eyes are crystal clear. If it’s his eyes that pull him in, it’s his lips that pull him under.

Eliott removes his hand from under his pillow and slowly raises it near Lucas’ face resting in front of him. Eliott’s gaze is drawn to those lips again, the ones he can’t ever seem to stop thinking about in the phantom touch from months ago. Lucas’ tongue peeks out to wet them followed by teeth trapping one, which makes Eliott sink further. 

His hand tenderly brushes Lucas’ rosy cheek and thumb rests near the corner of his mouth, the touch causing Lucas’ breath to hitch and release the pillowy flesh from his teeth.

Eliott quickly looks up at Lucas again, only to find the other boy’s eyes trained on Eliott’s lips now. It’s enough confirmation Eliott needs to do what he’s been wanting to since the day at the lake. And he doesn’t want to swim around it anymore, it’s finally time to reveal the truth.

He delicately strokes his thumb over Lucas’ red bitten bottom lip. “You really don’t remember?” 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lucas speechless before, at least not like this. Perhaps absentmindedly Eliott strokes his lips again, and it’s the closest thing to a kiss he’s had since the one on the balcony. It’s too much and not enough, and also the closest placebo to the real thing.

Eliott suddenly gets nervous that Lucas has no idea what he’s talking about, and that the breath caught in the other boy’s throat is not a sign of remembrance but of surprise to the incredibly intimate touch without the context of that night.

He hopes he hasn’t misread Lucas’ mind, for that would be the first time they’ve been on different wavelengths in years. Sure this whole fiasco was push and pull of avoiding the truth, but there was always some unspoken understanding present even so. Eliott feels he’s in too deep and Lucas is just floating, too much darkness and pressure between them. 

Eliott retracts his hand like he’s caught flame, silently begging for forgiveness as he meets Lucas’ eyes again. 

And this time it’s Eliott who can’t breathe. Lucas inches even closer, eyes flicking back down to Eliott’s lips once more. He whispers hotly in the limited space between their lips. “Make me remember.”

After days and weeks and months of waiting, dying, drowning, Eliott gets his fix as Lucas presses his sinful lips in a kiss – a completely and intentionally purposeful kiss. A kiss that pulls Eliott up so quickly he gets the bends, muscles and bones aching from the speed of his ascent, head and heart feeling lighter than ever.

“Lucas—” Eliott sighs, everything this means dawning on him.

“I know. Me too,” Lucas interrupts before locking Eliott’s lips again.

They indulge in the taste of each other with nothing to hold them down, eager and wanting like all kisses should be. He’ll never have to refill the script for placebo ever again, too busy getting high on the real thing.

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 06 | Boolean Logic  | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 05: Your friends have good intentions when eavesdropping on your first tinder date. When things don’t go exactly as you imagined, there’s comfort to be found elsewhere. A charming gesture takes your breath away and you find yourself dangerously close to crossing a line you’d never thought of before.

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 12.8K

Series: Love Bytes (6/?)

Genre: F2L, fluff, humor, SLOW BURN, friendship feels, ANGST! pining, sexual tension, smut, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, S O F T Namjoon, did i mention slow burn??? :)

CW: anxiety, panic attacks, some negative self-talk, dirty talk, teasing, grinding, dry-humping

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7 masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Do not repost.

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It’s been twenty minutes since Seokjin barged into your apartment and started listing all the things you did wrong on your date. You’d be mortified if you hadn’t already dealt with Yoongi earlier in the evening, telling you much of the same. He’d already covered the basics of looking at your date and given you a touching pep talk about knowing your worth. You’d be double mortified if not for the fact that you’re slightly distracted.

Not even thirty seconds before Jin walked in, you’d willingly put Namjoon in a position to grope your tits and it’s been on a relentless loop that surfaces between every other word Jin has to say. Kim Namjoon. Dorky professor? Firewall enforcer? Clumsy bestie? Thorn in your goddamn side? It’s only consuming every bit of brainpower as you wordlessly nod along to Jin’s lecture about the importance of posture in showcasing one’s demeanor.

Namjoon has been sitting across the room with a plate of half-eaten food before him, growing more amused by the tale Jin spins of your disastrous behaviors. He’s blowing everything way out of proportion, but you can’t muster the energy to fight him on it, not when the gears are grinding so hard to form a solid reasoning behind your earlier actions. But every time your eyes gloss over and you replay the scene in your mind, your stomach forms knots that cause you to repeatedly cross your legs over one another. You’ve done it at least three times now and both men have definitely noticed so you’re consciously fighting the urge to repeat the action.

Jin attributes it to your fidgety nature, tying it back to the way you had squirmed under the scrutiny of your date. “Y/N, I don’t think you’re really getting it. I need you to pretend we’re on a date. Here. Namjoon, be the observer.”

“Gladly,” Namjoon replies, happily slurping up a mess of noodles and fixing his gaze on your reaction.

You don’t even bother wasting a glance on the man on the floor as Jin angles his body towards you. He folds a leg over his lap, plants an elbow on the back of the sofa and rests his cheek on his palm as he leans towards you. The famous panty-dropping smoulder makes an appearance and you can’t help but feel a bit flustered by the intensity he brings to the charade. Your shoulders raise like they might shield you from the attack of such a gorgeous face. “Tell me about yourself, Y/N.”

This is torture.

You drum your fingertips on your thighs and look down at them briefly before remembering your conversation with Yoongi. Nervous eyes tear themselves away from the stubble coming in on your kneecap, forcing you to focus on the piercing gaze of Seokjin.

“Well…” you begin, fully intending to let this play out, but freeze once your eyes land on his face. “Why do you look angry? I can’t talk to you when you look like that.”

“What do you mean? Do I really look angry to you?” Jin’s brow sinks even lower towards the bridge of his nose.

Stifling a giggle, you nod and smack your lips. “It’s good practice if I ever go on a date with grumpy cat. So cute, yet so grumpy.”

You boop him on the nose and he swats your hand away. “Are you going to tell me about yourself or continue to dishonor the memory of grumpy cat?”

A sigh passes your lips. “I don’t know what to say,” you finally admit with a wince. “My life is so boring. Like, what am I supposed to say? Hi, I’m Y/N. I work on people’s computers all day and answer boring emails and support calls. In my free time I like getting drunk and laughing at videos of cats falling off of things, playing video games with friends --most of which are men by the way, is that cool?-- and going for walks at sunset.” You pause and let him take that in. “Ooh, or should I be like every generic profile I’ve seen? I like going on adventures! Hanging with friends! Living my best life. I’m an old soul. Here for a good time, not a long time! EL OH EL hit me up on Snapchat.”

The animated nature of your features quickly fades as you slump against the cushions. “I mean and here I thought I was boring as fuck. But Chul comes along and actually proves to me that I can be topped. And not in the yummy dom way.”

Namjoon chokes on a piece of pork and smacks his chest a few times, successfully dislodging it from the back of his throat.

Jin curiously roams his eyes across your face, flickering back and forth between your eyes and lips. “Ah, so... you prefer to be the sub?”

A heat rises to your cheeks and you know answering is a trap, but the longer his question hangs in the air the more flustered you become. “Are-Are you kidding? Like I’m gonna be the sub. You know I have to control everything.”

Lies are easier to tell when they’re coated with a layer of truth, no matter how thin that layer may be.

“True.” Namjoon swallows, the remnants of his cough sputtering from his mouth.

Jin considers your answer for a moment and grins, flashing you his pearly whites. “So you dom then? What’s that like?”

The other man in the room dribbles water onto his shirt at the question. He’s about ready to give up on breathing altogether. Jin knows it, too. That’s what makes this game so much fun.

You drag your teeth across your lip, trying not to think about the implication that Jin is also not a dom. “So! Enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Jin.”

With that, Seokjin snaps his fingers and points at you. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner! People love to talk about themselves. If you’re out of ideas on what to talk about, ask your date something about himself based on whatever random information you have. Give him a chance to impress you. Take me, for example. I am the head chef at Heart & Seoul, where I give everyone a taste of my heart … and soul. Everyone who has ever tried my food says it reminds them of home. You should come by sometime. I’ll make a plate special for you, courtesy of the handsome god of cookery.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, that’s certainly a statement.”

“Ask me about my food!” he prods, nudging you with his elbow. “Don’t you want to know what kind of plate I’d make for you?”

“Jin, I already know your food is good. I don’t need to ask--”

“It’s Barbe-cute,” he blurts, clearly proud of himself.

“You’re so…” You try to finish the thought but start laughing as he breaks into his own windshield-wiper cackle. A defeated half sigh, half grumble follows the trail where your laughter leaves off. “I just feel like this is the worst part, you know? Trying to explain to people who I am and why I matter. It’s like, on one hand, I don’t care! This is awful! And I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. But then… on the other hand… What if they don’t like me? Like Chul? Chul made up his mind the moment he saw me in person. He didn’t like me and I don’t know that there’s anything I could do to change that. I feel so stupid! ‘Cause I’m like, bro, didn’t you see my photos? Didn’t you look at my profile? Like why you gotta be so judgy when we talked all day?”

The man on the couch next to you uses his large hands to anchor the wrists that you’ve unconsciously been waving around during your tirade. “Okay see, this is what I’m talking about. You need to slow down and stop waving your arms whenever you speak. Imagine you’re a sloth. Slooow motions.” He uses his grip to slowly push you back against the cushion. “Relax.”

You puff air out of your lips indignantly. “Jin, I can’t. I’m not wired like a sloth. I’m more of a...a...” You shake your head, unable to find the word you’re searching for.

“Hummingbird,” Namjoon chimes in quietly, rapidly flapping his fingers up and down to mock you.

Jin laughs at the comparison, pushing you back against the seat when you begin to rise. “Oh, little hummingbird. Sit. Stay.”

Your brow furrows and a pout stains your lips as you comply, rigid shoulders resting flush against the couch.

“Good girl,” Namjoon adds with a snicker.

Ignoring the excitement stirring in your belly at the words, you narrow your eyes at him and he clutches his heart. “Oh wow if looks could kill…”

You finally sigh, dragging your hands down your face. “Jin, I get it. I suck at everything.”

“Oh don’t start that,” he scowls, jabbing your knees with a bony finger. “You’re perfectly fine. You may be a mess but you’re actually a very adorable mess.”

“Fuck off.” You wriggle away from his touch, grimacing at the nod of agreement Namjoon sends your way. “Both of you.”

“I mean it.” Jin laughs between words. “You are a delight, Y/N. Just because you have things you need to work on doesn’t make that any less true. And I'm only telling you that you need to work on these things because you are my dear, dear friend. I want to see you succeed and live your best life." He cocks his head to one side and gives Namjoon a pointed look while you're distractedly glowering. "Especially if you're dating another mess of a human, maybe someone even worse than you. Someone has to have manners. You can't both be terrible at everything."

Jin's eyes snap back to your face as he becomes the focus of your deadpan stare. "Thanks for the pep talk.”

A hand clasps your shoulder and the weight of his arm drapes across the expanse of your back. He uses his grip as leverage to press you against his torso as he scoots closer to you. "Oh, it's okay. You just have to stop trying to knock your date out. Just try to focus on that one thing for your next one okay?”

“I kind of don’t want a next one,” you grumble, allowing your cheek to fall against his collarbone. “Not if it has to feel this bad after every time.”

Wisps of his hair tickle the side of your face as he shakes his head close to yours and tightens the hug. “You don’t give up! You can’t give up! Trust me when I say the next will be better!”

You hum a doubtful note against the fabric of his shirt and push him towards the opposite end of the couch. “If you say so.”

“I know so,” he replies matter-of-factly, catching the antsy circles the chopsticks in Namjoon’s hand are drawing in the noodles left on his plate.

Just like that he begins to feel guilty. There’s something going on here, and he can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s no doubt in his mind that he truly walked in on something he wishes he hadn’t. They’ve all been waiting for him to make a move and now it’s possible that he’s trying. Today was a dud but one thing is certain: it would be so sad to see him lose you to a stranger because he’s too scared to elicit change. Namjoon isn’t going to outright ask him to leave, but it’s written all over his face. Maybe it’s time to let whatever developments have obviously been happening between you two continue.

With a loud sigh and stretch, Seokjin rises from the cushions and makes his way to the door. “Well, I think I’ve made my point. I should get going though. Don’t let this experience bother you too much.”

You spring from the couch and catch the door as he opens it. “I’m fine. Really.”

He shoots you a questioning look but you pull him into a quick hug that allays most of the tension within it. Namjoon unfolds his legs and stands as you exchange goodbyes with Seokjin and usher him out of your apartment with a tired smile.

The door finally closes with a dull thud. Your shoulders deflate with the air in your lungs as you turn the heavy deadbolt. Namjoon’s palms find purchase on the precipice of your shoulders, fingers dipping softly into the crevasse made by your collarbones. You melt back into his touch, throwing your head into his chest when the pleasurable chill of the massage works its way down your spine.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not that stressed. Really,” you weakly attempt to reason with him, silently wishing he’d never stop. A moan rumbles in your throat, making your brain go numb.

“I know,” he mumbles while continuing the controlled movements of his fingertips. “Fist of Fury sounding good?”

“Mmm, I was thinking about something with more comedy.”

“Way of the Dragon then?” he suggests, gently leading you towards the couch in a slow waddle.

“Please don’t make me watch it in English,” you groan, shuffling in time with his strides. “I don’t think I can take that dub again.”

“Fine, fine. Hold up.” He offers an amused smile as he pushes you towards the sofa as he searches for the DVD in question.

The loss of his touch leaves a chill in its wake and you instinctively pull on the fuzzy blanket scrunched into the gap between cushions. You drape it across your torso and bury your arms underneath just as Namjoon pops the DVD into the xbox below the television. He mindlessly grabs a controller, flicks the lightswitch, and shoves the nearby ottoman with his foot until it’s closing in on the sofa. You react before it can hit your shins.

As he flops onto the cushion beside you, the sensation of your legs brushing against each other has you leaning towards him with a shiver. The startup screen highlights his face as you lift the blanket, offering coverage despite feeling the heat radiating from his body. You just want to feel someone next to you. Much to your surprise, he accepts the offer and huddles in, pressing your bodies close together.

Quelling the shakiness of your exhale, you reach over to grab the controller from his lap. Instead the muscles of his thighs flex as your hand drags across them. You’re already apologizing as you jump in place, retracting your hand as quickly as possible while fumbling to look for the controller. He looks down at your hand and then back up to your face, silently pursing his lips as he drops the controller into your palm.

"Sorry," you mumble again as you navigate through the menus, not daring to peek over at his face.

"Don't worry about it," he whispers, sprawling an arm over the couch cushion behind you. His fingertips lazily tap against the contour of your shoulder, wishing that the t-shirt was smaller, thinner, something that could expose more of your skin beneath the blanket.

You fail to contain the deep inhale that causes your chest to rise and slowly breathe out the nerves constricting your lungs. As you start the movie and set the controller on the armrest, you turn your head to look at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he parrots back at you. The warmth of his leg presses into your thigh, serving as a reminder of the wetness between yours.

“About earlier, I…” you trail off, unable to finish the statement. The needy touch-starved thoughts haven’t yet worn off and you curse your brain for letting you taint your friendship with impure thoughts of the man beside you. How could you possibly tell him that you weren’t thinking clearly before when you still want him to touch you, when your pussy clenches any time he pushes his body against you? The familiar sound of the title music fills the silence.

“Don’t worry about it,” he repeats softly. “Let’s just… watch Bruce Lee, hmm?”

His words somehow simultaneously bring you comfort and disappointment. You smile and nod, shifting your attention back to the television, though you can feel the feathery touch of his fingertips flirting with the hem of your sleeve seconds later. As you shift in your seat to relax your head against him, that same touch trails up your shoulder to brush a mess of hair from your neck before settling comfortably in the space between them. You chuckle at the old woman staring down Bruce Lee as your eyelids grow heavy. There’s no way you were even going to make it five minutes in, but you attempt it anyway.

“She lookin’ at him like a snack.” You’re relying on your thirst to keep yourself awake. “I agree.”

Namjoon snorts. “She’s looking at him like she’s gonna call the cops. Are we watching the same movie?”

“My bad. I’m self-inserting for granny,” you murmur, voice growing wearier by the syllable.

“Are you already falling asleep? We can watch it another night if you’re tired.” You can feel his eyes boring into the top of your skull as your eyelashes flutter against his chest.

“No,” you argue weakly, not bothering to lift your head to meet his gaze.

“I can feel you closing your eyes.”

“No,” you say again with a slight shake of your head that doubles as an excuse to nuzzle into the warmth of his chest.

“So if I took my phone out right now and snapped a pic, your eyes wouldn’t be closed?”

“Nope.”

“Not nice to lie,” he teases softly, smoothing the hair back from your forehead.

“Shhh, don’t talk during movies. You’re missing the part with the soups.”

He cradles your head with a scoff, resisting the urge to impart a goodnight kiss to the top of it as you obviously doze off. Your arm falls into his lap with the sound of a dull ‘pat’. Immediately his hand carefully draws yours away from the danger zone and sets it loosely over his. The gentle twitch of your digits against his palm beckon him to lace your fingers together. Butterflies wrack their way through his stomach and he soon complies, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he does so.

Do you realize what you do to him? Probably not. Being here feels like walking a tightrope that he keeps wobbling back and forth on. But leaving would kill the adrenalin rush and leave him with nothing. He’d take the highwire any day if it meant there was a chance you could be waiting on the other side.

He’s determined to make it further into the movie, and he has every intention of nudging you awake, but not even five minutes later his eyelids droop and his neck bends back over the top cushion.

Just a few minutes. I’ll wake her up in a few minutes.

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The change in volume from the end credits to the top menu of the DVD catapults you from slumber. You groan as you crane your stiff neck up towards the open-mouthed, snoring man whose warm chest you’ve been napping on. The grin creeping across your face threatens to break into a giggle, but you muzzle the sound before it can leave your throat.

The haze of sleep still clouds your mind and as your eyes travel up the dark skin that stretches up to his jaw, empty cravings for intimacy permeate the fog. Your head lolls back down and you scrunch your cheek against the base of his throat with a shaky exhale before turning towards him. You skim your lips over the muscles in his neck, shivering at the thought of pressing down. Pushing away the growing urge to suction your mouth down on his flesh, you lightly tap the side of his cheek. “Joonie.”

He groans loudly as he lifts his head off the cushion, but offers no other words of acknowledgement. Discomfort spreads across his features, brow knotting as he palms the back of his sore neck. His other hand firmly wraps itself around your knuckles, subconsciously dragging your palm across his lap as he stretches his limbs out. Heavy arms come back down and constrict you in a sleepy hug; the comfort it brings threatens to take you back into the world of slumber, but you shake off the impulse to close your eyes again.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you announce softly against his white t-shirt, basking in the warmth of his embrace.

He peers down at you through dark, half-lidded eyes and struggles to bring a response to the forefront of his mind. You trace your fingers along the contours of his jaw, causing him to lean into your sleepy caress. Before you can register the movement, his lips graze the precipice of your forehead and your stomach lurches into a somersault at the sensation. Wait. Did he just...?

The bubble of his dream-state finally pops. Suddenly everything feels too real. His eyes widen and his heart drops, desperately wishing he could awaken from this moment panting and sweating within the confines of his bedroom. Is there a chance you’re not aware of his embarrassing mistake? He pulls back and the sharp sound of his lips smacking together awkwardly fills the room as the menu loop resets.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, abashed features straining to look anywhere else. “I’m gonna go.” He shifts uncomfortably, wriggling out from beneath your form, but your fingers reach out and curl around the solid mass of his forearm.

“Stay,” you whisper. “Please?”

You can’t fight the way your heart is pounding, desperate to feel the tickle of butterflies in your stomach at least one more time, to find your hand enveloped in his warm, comforting grasp. Deep, dark eyes settle on yours, searching for any excuse to decline such a tempting offer. When he comes up empty, you also find yourself at a loss for words and you shake your head, trying to come up with some explanation for the blurry lines you’ve been drawing all over your friendship with him.

You rationalize that it’s not crazy to find comfort in the arms of a good friend. How many times has Jennie kissed your forehead without meaning anything by it? How many times have you held hands with her and platonically snuggled up together? Is it really so different now that Namjoon is the one beside you?

Your mind flashes back to the moments leading up to Seokjin’s arrival. You were the one to guide him towards you. Your lips never touched, and you refuse to accept the fraction of your brain that screams of its disappointment. The fact that you got close enough to expose the possibility of Namjoon as a makeout partner is a thought you’re struggling to bury. That’s what makes him different. That’s what makes it difficult to let him leave.

You know it’s selfish, but there’s a shred of something that you can’t allow yourself to acknowledge. Until you fill the void of a relationship in your life, or sex at the very least, maybe this is exactly what you need. It’s harmless, really. Just a comforting snuggle buddy. It’s harmless... right? You ask yourself again, the echo of his heavy breaths fresh in your mind. The memory plays again: one hand clasps around his neck and pulls him down towards you, the other guiding him teasingly towards the lace of your bra as your noses brush against each other; it’s enough to set your cheeks on fire but not enough to retract the offer.

“Don’t leave. Please, just… Just lay with me again?” you plead quietly. Could you sound more pathetic? There’s never been a more appropriate time to wish you were built like a computer, or at least something you could flush the short term memory from, but here you are: painfully human and seeking complacency.

You keep your eyes fixed on him as you rise, his expression never falling into the expected air of pity. Shock. Confusion. Maybe even relief. But never the pity you anticipate. The television coats his features with a soft glow and your shoulders instinctively relax as his smile molds shadowed dimples along either side of his mouth. The word of affirmation that escapes him is barely audible over the sound of the tv.

The room grows dark and silent all too fast as you tap the power button on the back of the screen. Warmth radiates from his hand as it trails down your arm, finally twining itself between your fingers as he waits for you to lead the way. Of course he’s memorized the steps to your bedroom, but he’s not about to let impatience reveal the alacrity within.

It’s no trouble to navigate in the darkness and you find yourself needlessly tugging him closer. You’re quick to hide your own eagerness under the guise of fatigue, forcing a loud yawn from your mouth as you flop back into the center of the bed. He stumbles forward a bit before catching himself on the soft mattress, quietly climbing onto it as though the weight of his body will shatter its molecular structure.

Tonight the moon is blocked by the clouds in the sky, and the unusual pitch black nature of the room is a little unnerving. It’s easy to imagine shadows moving when you can’t see anything clearly. Before you can burden yourself with unnecessary anxiety, Namjoon’s palms are dipping into the mattress on either side of you, parallel to your waist. You can feel him ascending like a silent panther, closing in on his prey. Stale air hitches in your throat as he hovers above you, a delicately placed knee sinking into the space between your thighs.

The heat from his core sears shameful desire into the surface of your flesh and you attempt to close your legs. The inside of your soft thighs squeeze against the unexpected muscular mass of his, trapping him just below the wetness you’re refusing to acknowledge. It doesn’t take long for you to become keenly aware that if he leans any further up he will be wearing it and you press your legs even tighter together, despite knowing the barrier of muscle between them makes the task impossible.

Your palm reaches up to find his face, curling under his jaw to cup his chin in a playful venture to diffuse the tension in the air. It’s closer than you expect. There’s a strange relief in the realization that he can’t see the way your jaw falls open. That relief quickly dissipates when his plump lips press against the pad of your thumb, causing your sharp inhale to cut through the white noise of the fan nearby.

He laughs softly, breath hitting your skin in puffs as your fingernail scrapes against his upper lip. This position is not exactly ideal, considering the erection beginning to form in his boxers. With one leg trapped between your thighs and the other plunging into the mattress beside you, all it would take is one lazy dip of his pelvis to allow you to feel how you affect him.

“What are you doing?” You find your voice, but it sounds hoarse and foreign, and you make no effort to hide the accusation dripping from your own guilty lips.

“I…” His heart drops to his stomach. What is he doing? The more time that passes leaves the memory of you on the couch feeling increasingly surreal, like a cruel joke originating from a desperate imagination that he’s foolish enough to believe. He squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to think of something that will fix this mess. The rain pattering against the window is soothing and it tries to wash the awkwardness from the air, but it’s not enough.

Then a lightbulb goes off, and his hand is already gently bringing yours down to the mattress. His voice is even, despite the humiliation coursing through him. “I dropped your defenses.”

“You what…?” Before you can contemplate the meaning behind his words, his hand tightens around your wrist, pressing it into the soft mess of blankets beneath you with his full weight. You strain against his grip as he begins playfully jabbing at your waist with his free hand. You scrunch your hips towards your elbow as you swat fervently in the direction of his arm to no avail.

Strong, stubborn fingers poke and prod all of the sensitive spots he’d briefly had the pleasure to acquaint himself with. You do your best to keep the laughter from spilling out, but he isn’t satisfied by the restraint you’re showing. The noises he wrenched from you earlier had been so delicious and he’s desperate to pull more, so he dares to pinch his fingers at the tender crease in your skin between your thigh and hip.

You buck your hips and cry out at the sensation, the fabric of your shorts riding up just enough to grant his fingertips access to the outermost edge of your panties. His eyes roll into the back of his skull for a fraction of a second, reveling in his success. Your hand clamps down on his bicep, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks. He would be hissing and backing off if not for the delectable sound of you stammering out a slew of pleases on repeat.

Are two fingers all it takes to make you beg me? He muses, pleased with the visual he’s created for himself in the darkness. He can feel his cock poking out from the hole in his boxers, sensitive head sliding against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

“Joonie, please! I’m gonna--” A snort escapes the back of your throat and you choke back a gross fit of giggles as his fingers twitch against the cotton fringe beneath your shorts. “It’s too much!”

Those are definitely a string of phrases he’s going to file away for later. He licks his lips before loudly smacking them, enjoying the fact that you can’t see the devilish smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Really? ‘Cause, uh, I don’t feel a thing.”

His thumb and forefinger pinch against your flesh in that same sensitive area, ripping another uncontrollable cackle from you. Even in the darkness, it’s easy to tell that you’ve got tears in your eyes from the way you’re pleading with him. Your clammy fingers slide along the lean muscles in his bicep, tapping him repeatedly as though a referee will appear and save you from his relentless fingers. Your head falls back and you half-bury your face into a pillow to muffle the way you’re howling beneath him.

“Please, please, please,” you beg between pained wheezes, hopelessly bucking your hips up towards his. “I’ll do anything. Please. Please. Please. Please. Namjoon...”

He does his best to avoid your frenzied thrusts, dodging to the left and right to keep his now rock hard dick from touching any part of you. But the breathless way you’re pleading and panting against the pillows has him melting, daring him to grind his aching cock on your hips. His fingers slowly drag a delicate path away from the cotton he’d been trying to build the courage to do something more bold with. They trace invisible teasing lines downward and the abs hidden beneath your soft layers of flesh finally stop contracting. This time the final laugh that escapes you trails off into a breathy moan, body flaring with desire for more contact while simultaneously fatigued from twinging and fighting against his mischievous digits. Namjoon’s form lingers above you in the darkness with your crass groan refusing to leave his eardrums.

Hot breath fans the shell of your ear, his already deep voice somehow dropping an octave lower as the gravel in his throat fights the word bubbling out from it. “Anything...?”

Why does he keep doing that? It’s driving you insane. You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice take on this tone before tonight, even in jest, and it’s making your ears ring with how hard they’re now straining to take in more of that delicious, gruff whisper. You have no choice but to hold your breath to quiet the exhale that threatens to reveal the lust coating your thoughts.

Just as you’re certain he’s about to drop his weight onto your thigh and expose the wetness soaking through your shorts, Namjoon pulls his head back with a loud contented sigh, flopping down onto the mattress beside you. Maybe he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine. Can you blame him after all the mixed messages you’ve been sending? You’ve been filling pretty much every conversation with sexual tension lately; it makes sense that he would try to dish some back at you.

In your defense, Tinder hasn’t exactly been the fun, liberating experience you’d been promised by the app’s promotional messaging, and your frustrations are starting to become palpable. Even your vibrator can’t keep up with the rollercoaster highs of your sex drive right now. Poor Joon is just caught in the middle of a very, very bad drought and you’ll be damned if you let your friendship become a casualty of your desire for a little rain.

Coward. The thought reverberates against his skull hard enough to make him shake his head as he props himself up on one elbow.

“Help me hook my laptop to my TV so I can watch movies on the big screen,” he says, cutting through the self-loathing. Knowing you’re glaring at him in the dark, he pauses. “What? You said anything.”

“Just get a Firestick. They make those things specifically for people like you. I don’t need your incompetent ass calling me every time you can’t get it working.”

“You always gotta be rude about everything?” he tuts. “Besides, Firestick ain’t gonna help with what I want to do.”

The conversation allows you to forget the shame dripping out of you and you flip onto your side to more comfortably counter his point. “You can get every YouTube video on the planet on that thing. Not to mention Hulu, Netflix, PrimeVideo… Like, you can get anything you want to watch at the push of a few buttons. Well, everything except…” you trail off, the gears in your head spinning fast enough to come undone.

He swallows, knowing you’re about to call him out. “I don’t need a Firestick,” he reiterates.

Your cheeks flush. Porn. Of course it’s porn. Just another thought you don’t need floating around your head: Namjoon jerkin’ it to whatever weird shit he’s into. Honestly, you’re almost afraid to touch the laptop with how much he’s probably used it for that specific purpose.

“Of course not.” You sigh as your palm pushes him back against the bed, eager to just forget the night and feel the same way you did last week. “You’re gross.”

He huffs at the accusation, even though he admits to himself you’re completely right and doesn’t audibly argue the point. He also doesn’t fight the way you force him down, resting his head against a soft pillow as the weight of yours comes down onto his chest. Instinctually, his arm reaches around you, pulling you closer with his fingers tented against the small of your back. You shiver into his t-shirt, briefly catching the scent of his deodorant before closing your eyes.

“So, that’s a no then?” he asks dejectedly, voice rumbling up through the ear you’ve got pressed to his chest.

You chuckle into him as you nuzzle your face back and forth a few times, reveling in the way it feels to be in such a comfortable position with another person, even if it is Namjoon. “I guess I can do it since you’re indulging me right now... I won’t tell if you don’t?”

His fingertips move down your back to idly play with the band of your shorts, tracing lazy lines across them. You tense, taking all the self control you currently possess to stop from grinding your hips into his thigh.

He hums in response, finally resting his hand respectfully above the fabric of the t-shirt at your waist. “Okay,” he whispers.

You lay together in silence, listening to the increased assault of raindrops at your window. Normally with the fan going like this you’d be feeling chilly and be rushing to pull a blanket over you, but with the heat coming off of him in waves, you’re feeling rather warm, almost sweaty. It feels like the breath in your lungs isn’t enough and you take in a few deep, noticeable inhales and exhales. Your heart is pounding like you just ran some kind of incredible marathon.

“Y/N… You ok?” Even sleepy, you can still hear the concern dripping from his tone.

You take in a couple more hungry breaths. It almost feels like a panic attack sneaking up on you. But why now? You’re not even doing anything worth freaking out about. Is it the stress of the day? Is it the embarrassment?

“Yeah… Just...anxiety...” you manage to pant out weakly, your chest heaving frantically for more air. “I’m sorry."

He fishes for your hand in the darkness, turning his face down towards the top of your head to plant a small, innocent kiss there. “Shhh, shhh, I got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trembling fingers gripping his with a sense of urgency, like at a moment’s notice he’ll melt away and you’ll be left alone. “Don’t leave, okay?”

He twines his steady fingers between yours. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. You’re okay. Try to breathe deeply. I’ll be right here.” He starts to inhale loudly, causing your head to rise with each deep fill of his lungs, and fall with his audible exhales.

Over the course of a few minutes, your breathing aligns with his, and you’re even holding at the same moments to help your body relax. When you seem stable, he wants to say something comforting, but simply gives your hand a gentle squeeze once he recognizes the soft snore leaving your mouth.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Joonie, did you clean your apartment before I came over?” you’re eyeing the spotless nature of his abode suspiciously. “Since when do you not throw your shirts wherever?”

He smiles, pleased with himself as he folds his arms and crosses the room before sinking into the couch. “Since you always complain about it.”

You stare him down incredulously. “It’s just… I’m shocked. It’s so unlike you.”

“What?” He scoffs. “Are you seriously gonna complain now that my place is clean?”

“Hmph. Where’s your laptop?” you question,

He pulls it from the folds in the couch cushion sheepishly. “Hold up.” He’s opening it and typing in the password as you flop down next to him.

“If you seriously left porn on here knowing I was coming over to do this, that’s on you. Gimme. I wanna see what fucked up shit Professor Kim gets off to.”

He tries to cover the screen, but you can still see the raunchy frozen frame beneath his splayed fingers. Your eyebrows raise, taking in the sight of a nude woman’s body straddling a well-endowed man on a black leather couch. It’s tough to push back the smile fighting through your pursed lips. “Couch cowgirl, huh?”

“You know…” He fumbles to close the tab and thrusts the computer into your lap, clearly embarrassed at the thought of you seeing any of that. “I don’t stand over your shoulder judging your porn choices.”

You shake your head and scoff. “What makes you so sure I watch porn?”

“I know you,” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” You laugh, beginning to navigate to the display settings. “I’m not judging. It’s just a little more tame than I was expecting.”

“You’re judging,” he declares finitely. “And what the hell are you expecting anyway? What kind of fucked up shit are you into, hmm?”

Your face flushes and you stop typing. He laughs. “See? Just that reaction there tells me you’re one hundred times worse than me. You’re just better at hiding your search history.”

You swallow hard and snap the laptop shut. “Joon, you knew I was coming over to do this today. You had all night to clear out your embarrassing stuff. It’s not my fault you’re a dumbass.”

He starts to quietly interject. “Actually, my IQ is--”

“I don’t care what your IQ is. You’re not goading me into telling you my porn preferences. I’m just here to help you get your laptop hooked up.”

“Is that why you’ve closed it?” he asks with a smirk.

You blink at him a few times. “N-No.”

He laughs again and you can feel your face burning, knowing that he’s pridefully drinking in the sight of your mistake. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to say a thing.” He leans in, closer than you expect and begins speaking in a low, gravelly whisper that freezes you in place. “I already know what you like.”

You do your best to keep your breathing steady, but it quickly turns into a sputtering mess when he cups your chin and trails his index finger down your neck, stopping just above your breast bone. With no effort at all, he guides you down with the press of his finger until you’re laying flat on your back. He steadies himself over you with a strong arm that sinks into the cushion beside your face, effectively boxing you in as he descends.

“You like it when I take control,” he announces, an unfamiliar confidence in his husky tone. “Don’t you?”

At this point, you know your jaw is trembling as it hangs stupidly open. Every word you can think of dies on your tongue as his free hand draws a line beneath your t-shirt, up your belly and teases the lace trim around one of your breasts. You shiver as he drags his fingertips back and forth in the valley between your tits, growing more and more desperate for him to reach beneath one of the cups and take you into his hand. Chest heaving, you turn your gaze away, hoping he will spare you the embarrassment of looking into his eyes with the hunger in yours.

“Yes,” you whisper weakly, knowing he’s got you. If Jimin has been teaching him how to play Chicken, he has taken it to the next level and it’s gone past the point where you think you’re able to willfully extricate yourself from the situation.

His hand shoots up from beneath your shirt to clasp your jaw, forcing your face back into position. “Look at me when you answer.“

You let a tiny moan slip at the rough contact and your eyelids flutter for a moment before meeting his gaze. His eyes are dark and eager, pupils blown out to the size of dinner plates, perfectly set to devour you. You need it now. You need him now.

“Yes…” you whimper. His hand drops like lightning down beneath your bra, molding as much of your tit as his strong grip can manage.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, clasping your arms around his neck and desperately bringing him down to meet your lips.

He moans into your mouth as he comes crashing down, greedily sucking the air from your lungs with every last taste he imparts. The hand that had been supporting his weight tangles itself in your hair as you buck your hips up into him, thirsty for more of whatever he’ll give you. The rocking passage of your hips causes him to mirror the motion, grinding his thigh deliciously up against your clit. You mouth falls open with the need to take in air at the sudden friction in your jeans. He uses the opportunity to slip his himself past the barrier of your teeth and deep into your mouth, gliding his tongue across the surface of your own.

While this has never been a thought that’s crossed your mind in the past, you can’t imagine not knowing his taste. And yet when you try to describe it and pin down his delectable nature, it slips away. Your lips crash harder around his, hopelessly searching for the moment that your thirst will be quenched and never finding it. You want him more than you ever thought possible, in any way possible. It’s like he’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time, flooding all of your senses with a ravenous need that refuses to fade, even as you drink him in again and again.

As he pinches a pebbled nipple between his fingers, you whine through a gasp and fight to bite at his bottom lip, sucking it through your teeth. You hold him in place long enough for him to prop himself up on the couch and move back. Like hell if you were going to let him have all the power.

“Please,” he groans through gritted teeth, sounding incredibly vulnerable. It’s like music to your ears. You drag your teeth over his lip slowly one last time before letting it snap back to him.

With an ease you’re not used to, you’re able to push him back and sit up, carefully untangling your legs and rising from the couch. He’s about to pull you back towards him when you point to the middle of the couch. “Sit there.”

His adam’s apple bobs a few times, dark hunger never leaving the spark in his eyes as he positions himself as instructed. Clasping the outside of his knees, you force them closer together as you straddle his lap. With your legs spread like this, you can smell how wet and ready your pussy is, so you know damn well that he can too. You should be embarrassed and hiding your face in shame. You should be, but you’re not.

Your fingers knot themselves in his hair as you slowly roll your hips across his lap. Your voice is low and husky, filled with messy impatience. You’re ready to fall apart at his hands if he’d let you, but first you want him to know how it feels. “Is this how you like it, Namjoon? Is this what you want?”

A sharp inhale gives you your answer, but you continue to roll your hips just above his lap, hoping to elicit an erection. He groans as he buries his face into your neck, sliding his hot tongue over a particularly sensitive area and latching himself on. You realize you’re going to buckle quickly under the ecstasy you’re not used to feeling. Feeling reckless and bold, you reach down into his sweatpants, grasping for the cock you know has to be rock solid at this point.

Your hand clumsily slides against the gray band at his waist, unable to even clutch the drawstrings in your haste. The harder you try, the more your fingers seem to tangle in them. Soon you find yourself trapped, unable to move your hands away from the gray material they’ve become encased within. Using the brunt of your shoulder, you force Namjoon off your neck and much to your horror the laughter spilling out of him becomes squeaky like a windshield wiper.

“Wooow!” Jin’s disappointed voice has you breaking out in a cold sweat, frozen as you take in the broad shoulders dressed in Namjoon’s clothes before you. “Are my eyes deceitful like you? How many times have I asked if you had feelings for him? And now I catch you like this? What do you mean, none? I’m sure I asked at least once!”

As you shake the hair from your eyes and try to break free, the horror intensifies as the man before you morphs into a giggling Hoseok.

“Tsk-tsk-tsk. Dirty girl,” he chides, bringing his arms around your neck. “How long has it been? Have you forgotten how? I can help you remember if you want.”

You shut your eyes, trying to wish the temptuous voice away, but when you open them it’s now Jungkook staring at you, cackling. “Showing him your tits wasn’t enough, noona? You want him to touch you too?”

He tuts as he leans forward, and you begin to slide from his lap, which seems to be growing larger and steeper by the second. You’re desperately trying to get your hands free so you don’t fall, but it’s no use; you can feel yourself slipping away.

“Oh, are you stuck?” His obnoxious guffaw echoes into the darkness encroaching the apartment. “Well, since I’m a nice guy, let me help you with that. I’m really good with straps.”

He stands and you feel yourself fall, but he catches you by your bound hands, causing your elbows to knock against your head. You feel about 2 feet tall in his clutches as he suspends you in the air with one hand. The other starts pulling on the tangle of gray drawstrings, causing your body to twist in his grasp. With a sharp tug, he has you completely unraveling in a dizzy haze. You clamp your eyes shut again to avoid the vertigo jeopardizing the stability of your stomach contents.

You hang in Jungkook’s grasp, his cackle reverberating through your skull as you feel a gentle breeze caressing your body. As you open your eyes and look down, you realize you’re completely naked, and as you fight against his hold, your body spins. You’re face to face with Taehyung, his eyes cold and calculating as they roam across your body, searching for imperfections. He cocks his head to the side, wearing an expression of granite as his eyes slowly, painfully ascend your exposed flesh.

He blinks at you a few times before breaking into a boxy smile. “Wow. I’m glad we kept your clothes on.”

As you recover from the sting of his words, you fight against Jungkook’s grasp and attempt to swipe at Taehyung’s gorgeous face. As he leans back, his visage morphs into Yoongi, who stands there looking perplexed by your current predicament.

“Hobi’s right. You are easy, aren’t you?” He quirks an eyebrow and turns away, his form evaporating into the darkness.

Again you fight against the man holding you in place. This time you fall, but you land softly against a couch cushion with the cheshire grin of Jimin looming over you.

“Oh, Y/N… You went home with Namjoon-hyung, hmm? I thought you liked me?” His smile quickly falls into a rare scowl, all traces of mirth absent in his stone gaze. The jealous venom biting in his tone causes you to wince. “It’s fine. I have better options.”

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes and allowing the tears to fall, attempting to descend further into the cushion.

Your body congeals into the cushion, slowly melting through it and sending you hurling into the darkness. Your knees hit a hard surface with a loud crack, but it doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts like the words in your head. You know they’re right.

A spotlight appears over you, drawing attention to your lack of clothing and you clutch your knees to your chest to cover yourself as best you can. As you look around for an exit, you notice a mirror running along the wall behind you, taller than you can even fathom. Quick to disregard the sight of yourself, you turn around and there’s another one waiting ahead of you. Glancing around the room again yields dozens and dozens of mirrors in every direction. There’s nowhere you can even pretend to hide.

So you stand, tears stinging your eyes from the heartbreak of the truths you keep telling yourself. You shuffle over to the nearest mirror, feeling like your feet are sinking into sand and unable to fully rise with each step. Your reflection stares back at you: tired, cold, tear-stricken. You exhale and shove at the glass, unhappy with the person you see staring back at you. Instead of shattering or at least cracking like you expect, the glass bends in and bounces back, forcefully sending you into the mirror behind you. Your back lands against the hard surface and you slide down, allowing yourself to just sit and cry.

As you hug your knees close to your chest again, a fuzzy warmth envelops you. Clutching at the soft blanket that covers your body, you look up to see Namjoon’s dimpled smile starting back at you. He lowers himself to his knees and embraces you from behind, arms cradling you, lulling you into a place of comfort. It’s only when you stare ahead again that you can see the smile now gracing your own features.

He always finds a way to help, doesn’t he? With a contented sigh, you turn your body to gently bring your lips to meet his. The warmth of his body floods yours once more.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You awaken to your lips pressed against something hard. Your eyelids flutter a few times and you can just barely make out the shape of Namjoon’s arm pressing into your cheek. You must have rolled away from him in your sleep. Thank God. The sweat that trickles down your neck somehow runs cold and you shiver, tugging at the blanket covering your shoulders that was definitely not there when you closed your eyes. With a few deep breaths, you attempt to calm your heartbeat. You’re in your room. None of that was real. You’re safe.

Gently wiping your saliva from his forearm, you carefully shift your weight and turn your body to face him. Thankfully, he appears to still be sleeping, half tucked beneath the same blanket. What do you know? Even the human heater must get chilly sometimes.

Your heart still pounds wildly against your ribcage; it’s so loud that you’re almost afraid the sound will rouse him from slumber, but he lays peacefully beside you. There’s a hint of moonlight breaking through the clouds, and it casts just enough light to illustrate how angelic his features look while reposed. With the dream still fresh in your mind, you feel the need to reach out and make sure this is real. 

Your hand gently glides through his hair before cupping his cheek and stroking it with your thumb. You catch yourself wondering how you might explain the action, should he awaken at this moment. For now, all that matters is the tranquility the subtle movement provides; it coaxes you into security. As your heartbeat calms, you rest your head on his chest. There’s a dull thumping that you can feel beneath your palm and you swear time stills as you lose yourself in its soothing cadence. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Sunshine can’t seem to clear the clouds enough to illuminate the room. It still feels like it could be too early to rise, but the sound of birds chirping over the soft patter of rain lets you know that it’s later than you might believe. You blink a few times, irritated that you’re rising at all on a Saturday morning when you could be sleeping the day away. It’s not like you have anything planned. As you stretch your spine straight up, a pair of lean, muscular arms constrict your chest and waist, lazily pulling you back into a prime spooning position. 

You lightly massage the pair of forearms pinning you in place with oblivious fingertips. That’s right. Joonie’s still here.

He’s careful to keep your form from his pelvis, knowing that it wouldn’t take much for you to feel the stiff bulge tucked into the band of his sweatpants. Whatever alternate dimension he’d stumbled into last night had given plenty of fuel for his fantasies: your moans, your touch, and kiss you had nearly shared. 

But with the gray fragments of daybreak twinkling through the blinds, reality has to kick in at some point. He knows there’s no way you would pass up the opportunity to make fun of him should you feel even the tip at your back. Now’s not the time to tempt the luck of the universe, not when he has you like this.

You do your best to ignore the blush creeping across your cheeks as you settle in, lacing your fingers with a firm squeeze to his. He lifts his head and sleepily sets it in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning the surface of your skin and giving you new chills with each exhale. "Morning, Geeksquad."

You hum in response, leaning back into the sensation. He breathes deeply, taking in the subtle mingling scents that linger on your form: the hint of lilac conditioner in your hair, the traces of moisturizer on your skin, the remnants of perfume spritzed some time ago, and the fragrance he can’t place as anything other than “you.” He could stay here for hours just breathing you in, trying to figure it out, but any description would fall short of capturing its perfection.

The tickle of his breath at your neck causes to you shake your head against the pillow a few times, attempting to hide the smile curling the corners of your mouth. You’re content with the scene staying as it is and you’re almost relaxed enough to drift back to sleep when the ceiling above you allows the first long creak to break through the quiet of your bedroom. Then another. And another. Soon there’s a steady familiar squeaking of the bed frame in the apartment above. An awkward silence falls between you both, but quickly fills with a rhythmic squeaking.

It was too much to hope that the noisy neighbors could put off their sexcapades until you weren’t in a compromising position with a friend. You side-eye the light fixture above you as it rattles in time with the sound of the headboard now hitting the wall. You know from experience that the noises will dull in time, but it doesn’t make right now any better.

Just as you’re about to say something, there’s a slew of loud “yes”es that cut through the room. Not daring to look back at Namjoon now, you scrunch your face into a grimace and silently pray for the bed to fall through the ceiling and crush you. Neither of you are willing to say anything, either embarrassed or enthralled by the lewd visions plaguing you as a result of the sounds above.

While you can't recall the most recent dream to grace your subconscious, an encore of the previous one pervades your thoughts. The image of Namjoon feeling you up as you make out like a couple of horny teenagers has you squeezing your thighs together and tensing your body against him. 

Desire charts a course from your brain straight down to your pussy, the noises descending from the ceiling only serving to heighten the fantasy. The thought of him cupping your tits and pulling you back into his chest creeps into your mind with every second you spend tucked beneath his arms.

You bite your lip and stretch again, this time purposefully nudging your ass into him with a forced yawn. Even through a heavy knit layer of cotton, you feel the hard shape that butts up against you. A soft, sleepy groan croaks out from the base of his throat, which only allows the perverse reverie to further take over. 

Dropping his forehead against you, a heavy, tight-lipped grumble sends vibrations up your neck. This, combined with the creaking bed frame and muffled moans from above, sends a hot, prickly wave of adrenaline surging through you. A restrained puff of air forces its way through his nostrils as his nose sweeps against the sensitive spot at the base of your neck.

Your pussy clenches at the sound of his weakness, like the gravitational pull of your soaking cunt can draw in his cock if those muscles deep inside can contract hard enough. You're hyper aware of the way your shorts are riding up, removing that extra barrier between you both, but you're too worked up at this point to care. 

You reach back, wordlessly carding your fingers through his hair. The action elicits another faint moan into the flesh of your neck, sending the high of your adrenalin to new heights. Silent, jagged breaths wrack the outline of your chest as he tightens his arm's hold on your waist. 

He makes a fist to keep himself from grabbing your hips, knuckles trembling against your belly and clearly struggling to keep things PG. But you're not having it, not after the dreams that have plagued you and the filthy things running through your mind. Hoping to lure another lewd sound from him, you wiggle your hips and shimmy your shoulders to provide the cover that perhaps you're trying to get comfortable. His fist opens and desperate fingers sink into the flesh beneath your t-shirt.

It's not a request, but a harsh demand in the form of a whisper against the shell of your ear that leaves you absolutely quaking beneath him. "You don't want to keep doing that."

The subdued whimper crawling up your throat nearly dies behind pursed lips before transforming into a pleased hum. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own, rising to challenge what may or may not be a bluff, and slowly grind back into the erection firmly planted at your backside. You're too enticed by the possibility of a gratifying answer to stop the word falling from your mouth. "Why?"

That definitely came out brattier than intended. A swarm of angry butterflies pump their way through your system. Their fluttering clogs the path to your brain that tends to lean towards subtlety. Dull fingernails dig into the skin at your hip and shoulder tight enough to leave marks. His hips thrust forward for the first time, slowly dragging the mass of his cock up your ass and then back down in delicious, languid strokes.

You hold back the moan building in your throat and a sharp sigh chokes its way past your lips instead. The subsequent needy, ragged inhales fill the space around you. Your back arches while your hips remain in place, causing your chest to rise as you knot your fingers in his hair. When you throw your head back and close your eyes, he bites his lip to quell the urge to pepper kisses along your exposed neck. His restraint is admirable, but the toll it takes on him is palpable at this point.

“I think you know why,” he accuses in a low whisper, dropping his forehead against you again and halting the stroke of his hips.

“I won’t tell… if you don’t,” you promise, your chest about ready to cave in on itself from the amount of pressure his arm is now squeezing into it.

Feeling brave, you offer one more subtle roll of your hips, tempting him to follow the provocative pattern. Now he’s the one who tenses. He’s still, holding his breath for just a moment in disbelief as the dull sound of the lovers above cut through the air. Then you feel the sliding of his palm across your abdomen and a greedy exhale at your ear. Fingers dig into your flesh, holding you in place as he answers your unspoken question with gentle rock of his hips. You respond with hungry need, clasping your hands over both of his as the rhythm of your bodies begin to sync.

He lets you lead the campaign to your mutual destruction. If this is hell then he’s happy to be the fiery tide at the back of a devil disguised as a moon goddess. His hips ebb and flow against whatever pace you set as you listen to the lovers upstairs and soon you find yourself wishing for more. You feel as though at any given moment his cock is going to spring free and rub against the meat of your ass-- and you're ashamed to admit that you couldn't be more turned on by the thought. 

His fingers start to tease the band of your shorts as he rocks himself against your ass, savoring the way you’re panting. He slows his pace without realizing as he drifts into his own fucked-out daydream. It becomes clear you’re at his mercy when you whimper his name at his unintentionally lazy thrusts. The tides have turned.

You’re definitely about to say something you might regret --as if you didn’t have enough of that going on already. Your dripping cunt urges you to beg, to plead with him to go farther. You’ll set up as much porn on his TV as he wants. But right now, you want to be touched so badly you feel like you’re going to explode. “Please.”

What he wouldn’t give to hear you say that again. He hooks a finger beneath the fabric at your waist and dips his tongue out to wet his lips, which deliberately skims your neck. This time you moan and he finds himself echoing the sentiment as he decides he’s going to take his time with you and pull out as many “please”s as you’ll give him. 

You jump when your cellphone’s ringtone cuts through the room. He holds back the sob building in his throat, leaving only choked air in its wake. It’s suddenly clear to you that the only other sounds in the room are both of your labored breaths. You strain to reach out towards the nightstand and Namjoon’s arms reluctantly give way to your movement. He immediately rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling in disbelief as you fumble to swipe at the screen.

“Why do you do this to me?” he whispers to himself, and rolls away from you to contemplate the meaning of life.

“H-Hello?”

“What uuuuup, bitch." Jennie’s voice is loud and carries through the receiver even though the volume isn’t at its highest setting. 

You wince, trying to shake the lingering nerves from your voice. “Heeeeey, Jennie.” You stumble through a few incoherent syllables. “A-Are you back?”

“You sound guilty. What are you doing?”

“I wasn’t doing anything, Jennie,” you scoff.

“Doesn’t sound like it. Oh, did you go have a rebound bang after that shitty date yesterday?” she asks excitedly.

“What? No! I was just minding my own business. Relaxing.” You swallow, sparing a glance at Namjoon. “Alone.” 

He raises his eyebrows at you and your roll your eyes, mouthing the word ‘what.’

“Okay, okay! I got it. I don’t need to hear about how great your vibrator is again. I get actual sex from actual real people, Y/N.”

Your mouth falls open and you cringe at her statement, tearing your eyes off of Namjoon’s giggling form. He folds his arm over his face to hide his laughter, but from the corner of your eye you can still see his body convulsing.

“You know what!” You shriek, rising from the bed and scurrying out of the room as fast as possible. “I don’t need this. Is there a reason you called?”

“Obviously you don’t check your email. I’m on my way back but Taehyung stopped by and asked me to retouch those photos he took.”

“Taehyung drove all the way there to ask you that?”

“He was apparently out this way for a gallery or something. I don’t know. He stopped by with a flash drive and asked me to work my magic aaaand ta-daaa. Well. Open your email. It works better if you can actually see what I’m ta-daing about.”

You swallow, putting her on speaker as you open the mail icon on your phone. Sure enough, there’s an email from Jennie with several attachments. Your eyes skim along the text in the body of the email and settle on the photos below. Holy shit.

“Well? What do you think? Pretty good right? I mean I haven’t touched them all but Tae and I picked out what we thought were the best of the best for your profile. He liked the artsier looking ones, but I said hey man, sex sells. And it does, Y/N. So sell that shit. Put em up, get some matches! Oh and don’t worry I didn’t use any liquify shit to make you look thinner or anything. I just focused on accentuating your natural beauty and fixing the lighting with some adjustments to levels and curves, maybe a few color balance filters. Honestly though, Tae knows what he’s doing with a camera and I didn’t have to do much for most of them. Some cropping and smoothing out wrinkles in the backdrop to make it look more like a real beach. Adding some plants in places for dimension.”

You stand there staring at the photos, quietly taking in just how gorgeous the pair have made you look in each one. “Honestly they look so good. But this is so much work for my stupid profile,” you mumble as you scroll through, admiring the images that you still can’t believe are you.

“Y/N, sweetie. I love you. You’re a catch and I can’t wait to see you find the person who will appreciate and love you even half as much as I do. But you need to get laid. Badly. Right now you’d probably fuck anything that moves. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me you banged that meathead Jungkook. Even though we both know he’s a fuckboy. Totally pump-and-dump type. One hundred percent not boyfriend material. Not even worth the trouble of a fuck, honestly. But you know we on about those arms… I’m pretty sure he’s the only person we know that could actually do your fantasy of being fucked against a wall and, like, not even be tired from holding you up...” she trails off, lost in her own thoughts. 

The words don’t embarrass you, even if Namjoon can hear them; you’re too distracted to find yourself even remotely fazed. You’re too lost in the work they’ve presented here, too shocked to say much of anything because of how excellent a job they’ve done. Can this really be you? Is this what you look like on a good day?

Namjoon listens in, taking this opportunity to inspect his own arms. He flexes the scrawny muscle in his bicep, trying to will it to grow bigger with a glare. His head snaps up. Your fantasy. She said ‘your fantasy.’ Is that really what you like? 

He looks back down at his muscles, entertaining the possibility of such a scenario. It seems challenging, but not impossible, considering he’d half-carried you up three flights of stairs not too long ago. Then again, that’s a little different than holding someone up while thrusting into them and not giving a sloppy performance. What a fucking thought. Restraining the urge to palm himself over his sweats, he brings a curled finger to his lips in contemplation while eavesdropping on the rest of the conversation you don’t seem interested in hiding.

“And because you fucking suck at selling yourself, this is the easiest way to you get there. You get the sex out of your system and then you find mister right --or misses right; I don’t judge!”

You sigh, knowing she’s the one with experience. Jennie has a new prospect every week, but she knows how to utilize others’ infatuation to her advantage, get what she wants, and discard them as she sees fit. And she does it so effortlessly that you can’t help but envy her. She would know better than you could ever hope to.

“Thank you, Jennie. Really. I-I’m so grateful. Just… thank you. I’ll put these up and see if I get any hits.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, Y/N. It’s no big deal. Dudes are gonna be lining up to get in that pussy, babe. Don’t even worry ‘bout it, ‘kay? Love you bitch.”

“Love you…” The call ends and you wander thoughtlessly back into the bedroom.

Namjoon’s shit eating grin says everything that he doesn’t, but you settle into bed beside him and choose to ignore the look he’s giving you in favor of scrolling through the images again, completely disregarding the way you two were previously dry-humping to the sounds of your neighbors going at it. Namjoon’s frustrated sigh lets you know he hasn’t forgotten.

“Apparently Taehyung and Jennie worked on these together,” you say, pulling up the first one to show him. “Do you…” You hesitate, suddenly feeling shy and you nervously on your earlobe. “Do you think this is okay? Like am I lying to people if I put these up? I feel like they’re too good. I feel like they’ll expect this all the time and I don’t think that’s really fair.”

Namjoon’s eyes soften as he takes the phone from your palm. He licks his lips as he scans the details in the photo: the curve of your smile, the sweetness in your eyes, the way your head coyly rests upon your shoulder. You’re beautiful, as always. Makeup doesn’t really change that. But your smile radiates positivity and light in this particular instance; you’re practically glowing.

You twiddle your fingers together as you wait for the verdict, unable to read his stoic expression. “Well?”

His eyes roam from your face down to the photo a few times and he cracks a smile. “I think you need to stop worrying. I don’t see a difference.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you think I look too… good there?”

He mirrors your confused expression. “I think you look as good as you always do.” He catches himself when your confusion turns into bashfulness. “You know, for a nerd.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at the short lived compliment before propping your head up on his chest. Your finger pokes the screen, swiping across the images one by one and taking some time to review them with him. Not a single insult passes his lips. There’s nothing but praise spilling from him, finding something unique and genuine to compliment you on with each photo. He must sense your insecurity because he pauses each time and reminds you that he’s not being paid to say nice things. You silently thank him for at least trying to build you up. Surprisingly, it helps.

“I guess I’m using them then,” you sigh in defeat, rolling away from him as you take the phone back. You’re already downloading the photos so you can set them to your profile.

Namjoon rises at the opportunity, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of you actually finding someone. Because Jennie is right. With photos that actually do your beauty justice, people will be flocking to you in droves. It seems too real now that you’re eagerly putting them on there. “Tinder won’t know what hit ‘em,” he says dejectedly. 

You’re too distracted to properly catch the disappointment in his tone. “I hope so.”

“Hey... I’m gonna go, Geeksquad. I just remembered I made plans with some of the guys and I want to make sure I run all my errands ahead of time.”

You hum a note of approval and almost miss the way his face twists in anxiety because as you look up, he transforms his stress into a soft smile. Still, you see just enough to know you’re being a rude bitch right now and it’s bothering him.

“I’m sorry.” You drop the phone and cross the room, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Thank you for staying with me, Joonie. I… really appreciate you. I’m a mess and you always take care of me. So thank you. For real.”

“I know, Geeksquad.” He strokes your head a couple times before taking a few steps back. It hurts too much to say what’s on his mind. 

“And, um… before Jennie called I…” You lock eyes and you mouth the words you wish to say, but they don’t come as you want them to, “just got caught in the moment. I’m sorry.”

He blinks at you a few times before vigorously nodding. “Yeah.” He clears his throat after hearing the crack in his own voice, bringing it a few octaves deeper to protect his ego. “Yeah, uh, me too. Don’t even worry about it, okay? I’ll, uh, I’ll text you when I know what we’re doing.”

You nod enthusiastically, a grin spreading across your face. “Okay!”

With that, he disappears and you hear the unlocking of your door and the soft click when it closes behind him. Picking your phone up from the bed, you struggle with setting the order of the photos. You save and resave different combinations for about 10 minutes until a notification blocks your screen. You’ve got a match.

[caitiesramblings]

Girls who walk onto dancefloors with slender, long legs delicately slipped into a piercing heel. Girls who wear bodycon dresses that mould to their bump-less shape. 

I’ve struggled with body image for as long as I can remember. I went to a small school of just over a hundred people. The maximum number of girls in my year only ever reached eight, and of the eight I was the biggest. I’ve always been a healthy weight, teetering on the higher end of what’s deemed a “healthy” BMI. When I think about the thing that pushed me over the edge, I distinctly remember being about twelve and seeing a post on an anonymous ask-me-anything style website by a girl in my year who had been asked to list all of the pretty girls in our year - everyone was listed except for me. The word “fat” being thrown at me in an argument when I was about fifteen also stung a bit. It wasn’t until I turned seventeen when I started to restrict my eating and count calories. Influenced by a friend at the time who would openly talk about the bodies of other girls, dreading to wonder what she thought about me; I turned vegan (for the wrong reasons), woke up at 6am before college to exercise and chop up veggies for my lunch, track all of my calories, tell people I’d eaten when I hadn’t, obsessively research “thinspo”, and hope no one looked at me too closely.

Girls who drape themselves around poles, aerial hoops and ballet bars as their bodies bend backwards and forwards effortlessly. Girls who have bony, yet soft fingers that tangle in your hair.

Lots of WLW make jokes about “Do I want to date that girl? Or do I want to be her?” Which is fine, I don’t think it’s harmful to make those jokes, but I do think it perfectly sums up body insecurity in the LGBT community. You find yourself lusting after people you both want to date and look like, which for me, and I’m sure many other people, resulted in a “not good enough” mindset, which became a “not skinny enough” mindset. 

Things changed when for the first time in my life, I was putting myself out there in terms of dating. Dating apps were difficult when I hated myself. I never thought I hated myself until I saw beautiful women with abs, small boobs and small thighs. Girls who wore pretty floral dresses and looked like heaven. Girls who could never look at me the same way I looked at them. This is the thing, I know everyone is insecure. But the difference is, when you’re a woman who likes women, the comparison is not that of competition with other girls, it’s of being enough to someone who has the same body features as you. We’ve all had body envy - of wishing you had the thighs, hips, stomach of someone else - but when the body envy is of someone you’re trying to win over, your insecurity heightens. I guess it’s also because girls you want to look like as well as win over spend so much time looking at their own, smaller bodies, you’d wonder why they’d want to take a second to consider your slightly larger one.

Girls with lacy bikinis on golden beaches. Girls with golden hair that falls perfectly over their exposed collarbones. Girls with defined jawlines and cheekbones to cut glass.

In 2018, I was seeing someone for the first time in my life. Someone I met on Tinder, who I was shocked matched with me, partly because of the difference in our body types. It wasn’t until after we stopped seeing each other, and I was experiencing my first (quite melodramatic) heartbreak, that I entered the worst period I’d ever gone through in terms of my relationship with food. It was during my first year of university, and due to circumstances at the time I didn’t have access to a kitchen. I lived pretty much exclusively off low calorie instant soup, or anything else I could make with a kettle I kept in my room. I remember seeing my parents for the first time in a few months and them commenting, with concern, on how much weight I’d lost. I felt both guilty for causing them concern, but more than that I felt proud of myself. I felt pride that the lack of food I was consuming was having visible results, and felt that maybe one day I’d be desired again. My mental health plummeting due to being isolated to my room meant consuming a lack of food, and when I started to get better mentally I sometimes wished I wasn’t so that I could look how I did when my parents made that comment.

Girls who float above insecurity, sculpted to perfection. Girls with brittle looking bones who tiptoe in the palm of your hand.

I’m in a better place now. Not a perfect place, but a better one. I won’t pretend there aren’t days where I look at other girls and want to curl up and disappear, I won’t pretend there aren’t days where I fill my phone with dieting apps, I won’t pretend there aren’t days when I attempt fasts, I won’t pretend there’s days where I throw myself into the gym just to eat very little for the rest of the day. I’m not going to pretend that things are perfect, or that they ever will be. But something I have realised is truly how little people give a fuck about what a body looks like, and I’m working on adopting that attitude myself.

[babyleclerc]

Love Her Madly

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Style: One-Shot

Warnings: Just mild cursing, but what’s new lmfao.

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: After probably the worst day of your life, you find yourself stood up at a nice restaurant by your date. To make things worse, you also run into your ex - who sees you there alone. Who better to save the day than the one and only Tom Hiddleston?

A/N: W O W. Guys. It’s been a fuckin’ WHILE since I’ve gotten Tom to flow through these fingers. PHEW it feels so fucking good to be back to writing him. I’ve missed him so much. All praise goes to my absolute partner in crime, writing buddy, and bestest of friend, @sxbastianstan. She is my everything, my ultimate bae, and the reason this fic even exists. So go THANK HER for getting me out of my writing rut. Ily all. Hope you enjoy. <3

This was officially, easily, the worst night of your life. You glanced at your Apple watch for the hundredth time that hour, its little neon numbers staring back at you; mocking you. As if looking at it again would magically erase time. Surprise: it hadn’t.

“Would you like to order anything, Miss?” You could tell your waiter was getting impatient and wanted to give the table to someone else. The hour you had been waiting for your blind date was starting to look pathetic, and you knew it. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the judgment laced throughout the waiter’s tone and smiled up at him as sweetly as you could.

“Sorry, just five more minutes.” Right as the words slipped from your glossed lips, you heard a male voice from across the room.

“Y/N?” He called out, and your heart sank. You felt your stomach drop and your head feel dizzy as you looked up at the owner of said voice, recognizing it immediately.

“Hey,” You said timidly as your eyes rested on your ex’s handsome face. Damnit, now this really was the worst night of your fucking life.

You stood to give him a quick hug, annoyed by the smell of his cologne and the blonde bimbo hanging off his arm, with perfectly manicured hands and highlighted hair. You immediately felt self-conscious of your own looks and tried to make yourself as small as possible in comparison (as if that were even possible).

“What are you doing here? Are you here by yourself?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer, and instead just plowed on. “This is Anastasia, my fiancé.”

Fiancé. Good. Fucking. Lord. This was just getting better and better.

You smiled tightly, that nauseating feeling twisting in your gut as you shakily held out a hand to meet hers, exchanging niceties. This was the worst.

“So… no date?” He asked again, glancing at the empty chairs in front of you and looking at you with pity. Was there a small smirk on his lips, too? You would give one million dollars to slap that look right off his face.

Before you could answer, you notice some shuffling from the corner of your eye, and a tall man, clad in a dark blue suit, approaches you, leaning over to kiss you gently on the cheek.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, darling. Traffic was a nightmare.” You felt your cheeks get hot and your eyes widen as the British man easily snaked an arm around your waist, his large hand resting gently on your hip. There was a collective pause from the group as they soaked in the man standing in front of you. You tried not to let your jaw drop as your eyes glazed over his gelled hair, his bright blues, and a slight 5 o’clock shadow resting along his jawline. He swiftly buttoned his suit jacket and extended a hand to your ex-boyfriend who just stood there, baffled. He turned his attention to Jack, as if just noticing him for the first time. “Ah, sorry, didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Tom.”

“Jack,” Your ex shook his hand and seemed to stand up straighter, as if measuring himself against this mystery man named Tom. (It was of no use, Tom was a full foot taller than him, at least). There was an awkward beat, and you hoped no one noticed that in reality you had no idea who the hell this Tom character was, but boy were you thankful that he had decided to step in right at this moment.

“Well, we should get back to our meal. I’ve been keeping my poor girl waiting for over an hour; she’ll kill me if I don’t get food in her system soon.” Tom winked at you and you felt yourself coming undone, your cheeks so hot they could burn the restaurant down.

Without waiting for dismissal from Jack, Tom led you towards the table you had previously been abandoned at, pulling your chair out for you and allowing you to sit down. By the time he sat down, swiftly unbuttoning his suit jacket in the process, Jack and Anastasia had gone back to their table, stunned. You could feel the envy seeping from both of them as your heart pounded in your chest, finally drinking in the man in front of you. He seemed completely at ease, as if this had been his plan all along. As if he hadn’t just spotted you from across the room at the bar, and decided to swoop in and save you like some sort of prince charming.

“Uhm,” You started, biting your lower lip. “You didn’t need to do that.”

Though his eyes smiled at you, his lips formed into a beautiful smirk, oozing with confidence. “A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.” He raised his hand and called for the waiter. You sat there, stunned, sputtering stupidly. “I’ll take a vodka tonic, and the lady here will have…?”

He turned to you, waiting, and you blinked, your brain trying to process what he was asking you but being infinitely distracted by his confidence and distracting British accent.

“I’ll have a Scotch, please.” You finally managed out, your hands trembling slightly.

Tom flashed a smile towards the waiter, thanking him, before once again letting his beautiful blue orbs rest on you. It made you feel uncomfortable, the way that he was assessing you – as if he knew you were panicking and sweating beneath your somewhat (?) calm exterior.

“So, where were we?” He asked, leaning back against the chair, crossing one leg over the other easily. His hands rested on his thighs. “Ah yes, you were about to thank me.”

You would have scowled at him had his grin not been so fucking handsome. You hated to admit it, but the guy was smooth. Too smooth.

“Right,” You rolled your eyes, gaining some of your confidence back, “Thank you for swooping in and now hijacking my dinner.”

Tom raised an eyebrow at your tone, “I’m sorry, did you want me to leave so can eat by yourself?”

You glared at him, his comment a straight punch to the gut. You sighed, backing down. “No, but thank you for saving me. You don’t have to have dinner with me, though.”

Tom waved it off with his hand, shaking his head, “I was only teasing. No need to thank me. I hate seeing a beautiful girl stood up. I’m assuming that’s what happened, yes?”

You sighed again, but suddenly feeling more comfortable, nodded. “Yes.”

“Tinder?”

“Bumble, actually.”

“Ah.”

The waiter now returned with your drinks, setting them on the table in front of you and taking your orders. Tom ordered the fish while you ordered a steak (thank God you knew what you wanted already, you would have died if he looked at you stupidly again), and he took a sip of his vodka, letting the ice-cold glass rest in his hand. He fidgeted with the lime, head cocked to the side as his eyes watched you.

“So that’s an ex of yours, I gather?” He asked finally, swirling the drink in his hand as his head nodded discretely towards Jack.

You blushed slightly, embarrassed that he had caught you staring at Jack and Anastasia for the thousandth time. You sighed, nodding. “Yeah, we used to date. For a while, actually.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” Another swig of his vodka tonic. You watched as his tongue dashed along his lips slightly, annoyed at how effortlessly your body was in-tune with his.

You sighed, partially from the question but mostly from the way Tom oozed sexiness and comfort without even trying. “Long story, but he broke up with me. Typical ‘guy likes girl, guy wins over girl, girl falls in love with guy, guy falls in love with someone else’. It was a while ago.” You shrugged, taking a deep swig of your Scotch.

Tom’s eyes darted over to Jack, just in time to see him glaring at you. He thought for a moment, then peered back at you, a playful look dancing in his eyes. He leaned across the table and reached for your hand, allowing his fingers to gently intertwine with yours before speaking in a low, husky voice.

“Let’s make him burn with envy.”

Dinner went on so smoothly from there, it was hard to believe that the night had started out the way that it had, and that this was a “first date”. Tom was ever the gentleman – listening intently, complimenting you at all the right times, never getting distracted or looking uninterested. It was as if he was hanging on to your every word, like his life depended on them. It was as intimidating as it was refreshing.

“So tell me,” You started, cutting your knife easily into your steak, “What made you come over and save me earlier tonight?”

Tom grinned, chuckling slightly, “You should know by now that your radiant beauty made it hard for me to stay away.”

You laughed wholeheartedly, amused, “You seriously expect that line to work? What do other girls say to that?”

He shrugged, “Wouldn’t know, you’re the first woman I’ve ever used it on.”

You immediately sobered, your head tilting slightly, “I call bullshit.”

It was Tom’s turn to laugh, the corner of his eyes crinkling just slightly, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. You wondered, for just a moment, what it would feel like to kiss them…

“Not bullshit, actually, I hardly have time between filming to go out on dates.”

“So it just happened to be my lucky day that you were here, tonight, huh? Just waiting for a damsel in distress to save?” You grinned back at him cheekily.

“I’d hardly call you a damsel in distress, Y/N.” The way his accent drawled your name out sent goosebumps up your arms. You wanted to hear him say it a thousand times over, preferably in the dark, in his bed, his lips pressed against your skin in the most sinful ways.

You squirmed slightly in your chair at the visual, crossing a leg over the other in an attempt to calm yourself down. Tom noticed the slight gesture and smiled softly against his raised glass, fighting everything within him to wink at you.

Tom cleared his throat, glancing at his watch, “I know this is extremely forward of me, and I swear I would never ask just anyone this, but, would you-”

“Yes.” You answered before he could finish.

Tom grinned, his eyes twinkling. He pulled out his wallet and set down a few hundred-dollar bills – you weren’t sure how much but tried not to gape at the load of cash he still had in his wallet. He took you briskly by the hand, pulling you in front of him as he guided you out of the restaurant, both hands resting easily on your hips.

You were too happy, the grin far too wide across your lips, to notice a sulking Jack behind you.

Fin.

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[lightsandlostbells]

Skam France S2.2 reaction

they managed to make one of my most disliked parts somewhat less bad

slow clap for Skam France?

some very heated opinions below, be aware!

Episode 2

For real, some very negative opinions are coming, and it’s not my intention to make anyone feel like garbage about something they like. If you’re a fan of Noorhelm/Marles, maybe don’t read.

Clip 1 - Manon and Emma in class

I like Emma a lot more this season. I didn’t feel like the actress quite carried the really vulnerable moments, but she’s exhibiting more personality with her take on S2 Party Eva.

They cut the scene with the two girls asking Noora if Jonas had a girlfriend and if he were dating Eva, so the vibe is kind of different. With that context it seems like Noora wants to gently nudge him Eva into moving on because she suspects Jonas is moving on. This has some of that but it also feels less urgent, because Manon doesn’t have quite the same reason to be concerned for Emma’s feelings in that moment.

I do like Emma’s bit about being kidnapped by that prostitution ring in Taken, that’s funny.

Clip 2 - Yann the Man

Charles’ text about seeing Manon even though she was trying to hide - WHY. Why would they add this shit? Do they not get how uncomfortable this makes girls feel? Manon goes to school with this guy so there is nothing she can do to completely avoid him. He is not only just checking her out, but he’s making sure she’s aware of it. Let’s be clear: she wanted to hide from him, and he made sure she knew that he noticed she was trying to hide, and he made sure she knew that it didn’t work.

Look, I know that many Noorhelm fans also hate William’s behavior at the beginning of S2 and only warmed up to him as the season progressed. For me it’s that this opening behavior is so bad, such a textbook example of male entitlement in action, that it’s hard for me to ever get past it. I just have very few fucks to give about men who prioritize their boner feels over women’s boundaries.

Lucas, Sarah, and Ingrid here are like when Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown started sucking face and Harry and Parvati Patil had that shared moment of “God, our friends are getting on our nerves.”

I super love French Ingrid. I love her being bored and annoyed by Lucas and Sarah, and then her flustered reaction to Yann was great.

So what I’m taking away from Daphne’s reaction is that Manon and Emma probably told the whole girl squad about what they saw on Lucas’ phone. Not cool.

AND NOW a breakdown of Yann’s power walk. This scene annoyed me, because they did not put in the work of setting it up. This is Skam France’s worst quality; it copies the events at surface level without understanding why they are there or how they got there in the first place. At least this is a smaller humorous moment and not something dramatically important, even though it is relevant in terms of Emma’s character this season.

Let’s go over how the two shows set up this scene. Skam plants the setup during last Friday’s scene at Noora’s. The girls get to talking about sex, it’s a frank conversation. Vilde wants to know if the others have ever experienced a guy going down on them, because she thinks (hopes) William may do it to her. Eva jokes that no Norwegian guys will go down on girls, telling us in an indirect way about this aspect of her relationship with Jonas. This part of the scene is so comedic and light-hearted that on first viewing, you might not assume that it’s not anything except banter, a fun conversation that Noora has no part in and serves as a contrast to her anxiety over William’s attempts to contact her and Vilde’s continued interest in William. At the start of the next episode, we have a clip with Noora at her locker and being approached by two unknown girls who clearly catch her off guard, too, and want to know whether Jonas has a girlfriend. This random encounter leads her to prod about Jonas from Eva and subtly push her in the direction of moving on, as she suspects that Jonas may no longer be single. Then we get The Clip. As Vilde makes conversation with Ingrid, Eva notices girls’ heads turning in one direction, whispering and giggling. She follows their gaze. They’re looking at Jonas. She wants to know why, and she gets the answer about Jonas going down on a third year. Vilde looks confused, then starts to ask Eva about what she said on Friday, but Noora shakes her head as we get Eva’s stunned reaction. Jonas comes up to them and we get an iconic quote.

Skam France sets it up like this: Sarah tells us that Yann is the big man of campus, we see him walking and girls reacting, we get the explanation about Yann going down on the third-year, Emma seems a bit upset, he goes up to the girl squad and drops his line.

We don’t get the setup of “French guys not going down on girls” so there’s no impact of Yann being THE man, THE one true cunnilingus hero (and I have no idea what’s the general attitude of French men toward going down on women but I mean, you could spin this as “teenage boys are all about their own pleasure and don’t eat out girls” no matter what country you’re in) (except lol it ain’t gonna work in Skam Italia, thanks Giovanni!) - like I can understand in-universe why the girls might be impressed but from an audience POV, we’re not given any means of comparison to understand just why this is such a big deal

We don’t get that earlier line from Emma in particular so there’s no impact of understanding how upset she might be about this - not just that Yann is hooking up with other girls, but that he’s doing something with them that he apparently never did with her

There’s no additional moment of realization, “oh, so THAT’S why those random girls suddenly wanted to know if Yann is single,” a Brick Joke to use a TVTropes phrase, because they cut that scene

Even within the scene itself, it’s not built up? Like in OG we see girls reacting to Jonas and Eva picking up on it before we land the punchline. This one just tells you off the bat that Yann did a Thing, look at him (this bothers me less than the omission of the other stuff but in combination with it, it’s another symptom)

Is any of this a crime? No. Could people still find the Yann scene funny? Sure. But if this were my show, and I had to cut some things that didn’t fit into the episodes? I would question whether this scene was as effective without the buildup. I would question whether it was necessary. If I had to get across Emma’s moment of hurt, that likely inspires her to start hooking up with dudes from social media, I would consider whether it could be written in another way.

TBH I know I’m sounding nitpicky, but honestly this is why I enjoy overanalyzing the remakes. I felt like I learned something about setup and punchlines from observing the two scenes, and I appreciate how deftly Julie managed to make an extended oral sex joke pack some emotional punch.

I did like the music break from when he was walking to the exposition, and that was an admittedly great line from Yann about being hungry.

Clip 3 - Daphne loves lesbians

Daphne was sitting apart from the other girls at the beginning of the scene seeming very disconnected, hmmm.

Also Emma is not using Tinder in this version, she’s using Instagram  and seems a bit firm that she isn’t using Tinder, so I wonder what the significance of that was. Maybe because Tinder is an app used for dating, and she doesn’t want to seem like she’s trying too much to move on, whereas Instagram is a more generic app with other purposes and hey, if a guy happens to message you, why not just roll with it, right?

And Emma immediately says no fake plans, like she just immediately calls it, though Manon fakes them anyway.

Does anyone else think that Alex’s sexuality is being handled really strangely, and by strangely I mean not at all? Because from what I recall, in canon we really just that comment about her hooking up with the girl named Clara and wanting to see Daphne’s topless pics. Her bisexuality was confirmed by the actress, outside of the show. This scene would’ve been a perfect time to address Alex’s sexuality directly, especially because Daphne is the kind of clueless character who would say something boneheaded that would require some education. When Daphne asks Manon whether she’s a lesbian, why not have her mention something like, “It’s OK if you like girls, so does Alex,” or even make a misguided comment about how Alex and Manon could pair off? Or have Alex make some kind of joke related to the discussion? Like this is genuinely weird to me not to acknowledge it at all in this context, when Daphne is even saying that their laughter makes it an unsafe environment for Manon to come out, but there’s also a bi girl sitting right there, participating in the laughter? It feels like another example of them just not thinking through the script that much.

This is why I’m skeptical about how they’ll handle the bit with Daphne and Emma making out, as seen in the trailer. Because again, they have a girl in the group who actually is supposed to be bisexual and who has apparently hooked up with girls, and yet we don’t hear much about it except in passing, but if we get these two supposedly straight girls making out because they’re drunk … that’s not a great look? What I’m worried is that they’ll play it completely like the original show because they’re just following the script and not thinking about it, while ignoring that they’ve changed a character’s sexuality and it might be relevant.

They cut the bit with Jamilla and her crew, so maybe they won’t play a role this season. I guess if they ever get to season four, they’re really going to have to rewrite the story because the bus plot will not make sense. But it’s kind of a bummer, I hope they find another way to include those girls. I think Skam France could improve on the original in how much they used the hijab squad in the show.

Manon, what was your objective in coming on to Daphne like that? You just have to get in her personal space. MMMMkay girl.

OK I laughed my ass off at Daphne posting a “love is love” image immediately after this clip. 

God, I really wish we had Daphne for season three.

Clip 4 - The date

It only took me two whole episodes to figure out who Mika reminds me of: Ben Whishaw. Which is super obvious now that I recognize it.

Mickael’s DRAMAAAAAA is up there with P-Chris’ iconic version. Manon’s imitation is also good.

Mickael is smart negotiating for a birthday gift even if it didn’t quite work. I like his style.

Manon doesn’t wipe off her lipstick (like Noora did) which maybe is supposed to signify that she’s attracted to Charles, or maybe that she’s less concerned with how she presents to him. She does seem to be more confident when she squares off with him verbally.

I know the part in the car with The Weeknd is Iconique but I thought this version was fine and worked about as well   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

This is one of my most hated parts of the original show, so let’s see how they did.

Disregarding the context of how he got her on this date, that’s a nice setup with the chairs on the rooftop (which I’m guessing he dragged up there himself).

Actually ... you know what, there’s a lot of uncomfortable stuff about this part that I didn’t even realize previously because it’s presented so cinematically. (Assume that when I refer to Charles here, I also mean William because it’s more or less the same writing.) One thing I’ve never really considered until now is that if Charles (or any guy) pressured me into this date, didn’t accept my rejection, said that saying no will just make him want me more ... I would be fucking afraid if I finally went with him on a date and he took me to an isolated area. Now I didn’t think about that at first because this is a very beautiful scene from an aesthetic point of view! There is some gorgeous cinematography in both this scene and the original version. And he gives her something to drink and it’s cute because he remembered she doesn’t drink alcohol, so he made cocoa, cocoa is a drink that brings to mind warm, cozy feelings! Awww!

But take this out of the pretty TV context: in real life, a guy who has made it clear he doesn’t take no for an answer and who takes me to a nice secluded area and gives me a drink he made himself? Would raise serious alarms. I would have this feeling of dread in my stomach. And I don’t think you can disregard this train of thought or call it unfair or over-the-top, because guess what, Noora (Manon too by the looks of it) is potentially drugged later in the season when someone gives her a drink (I don’t remember if they ever confirmed if she was drugged or if she just got very drunk and blacked out, but we’re definitely supposed to think it’s a possibility). We do have a sexual assault storyline later on, with this very same character. It is completely reasonable to consider these dynamics especially in light of the season’s larger themes and topics.

I am being 100% serious ... what reason does Manon have to think that Charles is not capable of date rape at this point? Think about it, consider it from her POV where she doesn’t know what’s going to happen later in this season, just analyze what she knows in this moment. So far he’s had sex with her friend and then ignored her and cruelly put her down, and he’s pursued her despite her rejecting him, he’s openly said that he doesn’t take her “no” seriously, he’s sent her messages that make clear he’s noticed she’s tried to hide from him and he doesn’t care, he’s cornered her into this date. Other than the fact that Charles is our designated male lead, why should Manon trust him? Why should we? The only reason is because we know we’re watching a TV show, we know that this is the scene where we start to build up to our characters getting together later. Charles is handsome, Charles will be The Love Interest, therefore Charles is going to be a good guy. If Charles was some gross, unattractive, obnoxious dude who would clearly not end up with our heroine, how would this scene feel? 

The jab at Twilight is hilarious and accurate. They are Bella and Edward.

“Why did you get into my car?” You fucking know why, dude.

This shit about him not pressuring her to go out with her is wrong. Yes. He did. Him just saying he didn’t doesn’t make it true. If just saying stuff made it true I’m going to go around calling myself Julie Andem and telling people I’m working on Skam Season 5: The Adventures of Dr. Skrulle and Her Wife, The Danish Receptionist.

In original Skam Noora did tell Vilde that there was nothing going on with her and William before this point, I don’t think Manon did. So I guess Manon could have done that. But Charles has put her in a complicated place. Manon asked him to apologize to Daphne. He did so on the condition that Manon go on a date with him. At this point Manon can’t tell Daphne she’s going out with Charles without having to explain why, which means nullifying the apology in the first place. And Manon is trying to avoid him but he won’t let it happen, and he’s shown that he’s willing to use Daphne to get to her. 

All right, here’s why I fucking hate this scene: this is a prime opportunity for William/Charles to show some humility and character growth about what happened with Vilde/Daphne, and he doesn’t. Not once during this conversation does he express regret for how he handled the Vilde/Daphne situation. Not once does he express remorse or consideration for her feelings. Instead he offers several excuses about why what he did was justified, which happen to be about benefiting himself. So basically his apology was hollow and only about getting this date with Noora/Manon. Yes, it is early in the season and his character should be able to grow in future episodes, but I don’t recall William ever changing his tune on this topic, specifically. 

And tbh what's irritating is that this is framed like William/Charles has some reasonable points, and no, he doesn’t, literally every excuse he offers can be easily torn down. Noora/Manon can be judgmental, for sure, they can assess people incorrectly, but in this scene, they are completely right in their criticisms of what happened.

“Being nice to someone you want to get rid of doesn’t work ... I’ve been clear with her.” So did he ever try ... telling her outright ... you know, BEFORE they have sex, “hey, I’m not looking for a relationship.” Oh wait, the girl might not want to have sex with him then. Or even explaining it in direct but not malicious words afterwards? From what I remember, he basically just ghosted her until she confronted him and he tore her down. He doesn’t have to promise her anything, but he also owes her some basic respect. And he knew he was doing something cruel. Remember when he walked by Daphne and the girls in the schoolyard and he made a point of establishing eye contact, then looking away? 

“I’m not responsible” for harming Daphne’s self-image - oh shut up. If I went up to a random person on the street and told them they were ugly, I probably wouldn’t break their spirits forever and ever. But I probably would play on any insecurities they had. I would possibly create new insecurities that weren’t there. And I would possibly make them feel like garbage. So yes, I have to take some responsibility for the fallout.

And lmao, what bothers me is that yeah, actually we do see how cruel comments can affect one’s self-image over and over throughout the show. We see it with Vilde and Daphne, how this made them feel like they weren’t pretty enough and influenced their disordered eating. We saw it with Noora, how her shitty previous boyfriend also messed up her self-image and caused her to get sick. We saw it with Isak, how casual homophobia and comments about gay people around him influenced how he saw himself and made it difficult to call himself gay. We saw it with Sana, how she was bullied at her old school for being Muslim, how Islamophobia affected her and shaped her, how desperate she was to prove herself because people were judging her on all sides. It’s fine if William/Charles is meant to be wrong. What bugs me is that the way this is presented, makes it seem like he’s supposed to be right.

“I’m not letting her think there are chances when there aren’t” - aren’t you texting Daphne and inviting her to things? He absolutely knows how Daphne is going to respond to this. If he was so desperate to use one of the girls as a go-between for him and Manon, he could easily get Emma’s number from his pal Alex. But no, he is going through Daphne deliberately, because he knows she’ll be an enthusiastic messenger. And he knows she’s going to get hopeful. He literally says that she’s into him again! 

Characters can be flawed, characters don’t need to always say the right words. But William never had a turnaround where he acknowledged that his courtship of Noora or his treatment of Vilde was wrong, outside of that apology that he apparently didn’t mean, when these were things that he really, really needed to address in terms of his development. I fear that they’ll do the same with Charles since this remake is so close.

That being said, there are a few things in this scene that I preferred to the original:

One of the dumb things William says is that “if you see if from his side” Vilde is the one who pursued him, she approached him and wanted to sleep with him,. This is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard. William is not obligated to sleep with every girl who comes on to him. He and Vilde had a consensual sexual encounter, Vilde did not trip and fall on his dick, and he was participating in her flirtations and contacting her. Take some responsibility for your role in this, dude. This bit of blame-deflecting is thankfully missing from this scene, sparing me that particular headache.

Charles’ actor has more emotional range than William’s and I felt like he maybe did feel a bit less assured in his position, whereas William felt pretty smug about it the whole way through.

Manon seems less stumped by Charles’ comments than Noora did. Not that Noora needed to have all the answers all the time, but it always  saddened me that William’s BS excuses were what had her tongue-tied. Also her turning his sad anecdote into sarcasm about the homeless was good.

When Manon says she’ll walk home, Charles doesn’t push her and says it’s fine. That seems counter to chivalry, but it’s at least him respecting something she wanted, even if it might just be because he was busy with his fight drama.

The music throughout the clip was good, but the music at the end got too DRAMAAAAAAAAA for my liking.

General Comments:

I’m going to be honest, I think the actor playing Charles has more charisma than William, so on a superficial level I’m engaged more during the Manon/Charles scenes, and like I said above, I think it benefited his character in the date scene. But there are some ways I think this might make his character seem worse, for instance when telling Daphne she wasn’t good enough, it felt a lot more deliberately mean whereas William seemed so checked out of the whole thing that it was less like he wanted to twist the knife. So we’ll see how he fares at some later parts of the season. 

Tangent but I love the girls texting about Jane the Virgin. Also that Manon references Pedro Almodóvar and Emma’s like “we don’t have the same reference pool,” that legit made me laugh.

This had a lot of negative remarks, lol. Probably this will be as negative as it gets, tbh. That one scene just makes me angry.

I’m not French so I apologize if I misinterpret, and feel free to correct me. 

If you made it this far, thank you for reading!

[cinco-de-chocobo]

C’est la vie...

I’ve never been a heavy user of social media. 

I never have Instagram, Path, Snapchat, Tinder, LinkedIn, and Pinterest. I have shut down my Facebook account for a while now. I only have 2 active accounts presently: Twitter and Tumblr. Twitter as my news sources and Tumblr’s for the sake of my right brain happiness.

WHY?

When i ask myself the reason why, the first thing that comes to mind is privacy. I believe that my life is mine alone, no one else need to know except for few people whom i trust with my whole heart. Secondly, every time I’m about to create an account, i always ask myself “do I really need it?” or “for what purpose?”. If the answers are not satisfactory, then i won’t sign up. 

But are those really? Are those really the reason i’m not really into social media? Are privacy issues and sense of purpose really the things that i’m actually concerned about?

When i started being really honest with myself, i slowly realized those reasons were not the only reason why i didn’t like social media. I was blinded by my pride, drowned in self-deception, haughtily thought: “being able to conserve myself from social media make me a better person.” But, there was something much deeper than that, something which i was afraid to admit.

I think some part of my inner self was scared and anxious to use social media because every one seems to be so successful in living their life. Browsing through social media was pretty-much a roller coaster ride for me, sometimes i felt superior towards other and judge whom they are for what they post. Other times i felt inferior about myself because i thought my life is not as awesome as theirs. There were times in my life where i unmuted my close friends on Twitter just because of my low self-esteem. Which was pretty irrational and ridiculously foolish behavior. 

DEALING WITH MY SUPERIORITY COMPLEX AND INFERIORITY TENDENCY

Let’s talk about superiority and inferiority for a bit.

Superiority complex is “an attitude of superiority that conceals actual feelings of inferiority and failure.” It is an illusion of grandeur about oneself. 

On the other hand inferiority complex means “a lack of self-worth, a doubt and uncertainty, and feelings of not measuring up to standards”. In other words you suffer from feeling less important or insignificance compared to others.

Apart from superiority complex and inferiority complex, there is another way of being in the world and that is INTERIORITY. Caroline McHugh, the author of “Never Not a Lovely Moon” said:

“... the word “interiority” describes a particular disposition, and there’s two reasons it might be useful to you. Number one, it’s completely uncomparative. If you have a superiority complex or an inferiority complex you need other people around. For a superiority complex you need other people to be smaller. For an inferiority complex you need to suffer from the I’m-going-to-be-found-out syndrome, so somebody needs to find you out.

Interiority is entirely unrelative, so to operate from this position of interiority, it’s like a perceptual vantage point. It’s a sensibility. It’s an orientation. And it’s the only place in your life, the only place in your life, you have no competition. Try and find a comparison to yourself, and you’ll draw a blank...”

She then proceed to include an interview answer from Jill Scott to emphasize the meaning of Interiority:

Interviewer: Are you nervous you’re going to perform after her (red: Erykah Badu, famous singer-songwriter)?

Jill Scott: “Have you ever seen me perform? I am the Lady Jill Scott. I am a poet, and a singer, and a lot of other things. We all have our own thing — that’s the magic– and everybody comes with their own sense of strength, and their own queendom. Mine could never compare to hers, and hers could never compare to mine”.

The first time i heard that, i sat in silence for 5 minutes while thinking “i finally hear the one thing that I've been desperately need to hear”. I never really realized that i have my own queendom. For many years I've been looking for reassurance, thinking that i’m okay, i’m good enough, i’m unique in my own way. But i never really believed it. I lied to myself. Lying to oneself is very easy, because once you understand the power of lying, it is really like magic because you can solve all your problems easily by lying. For example, when i was scrolling down my timeline and i saw someone who post something about their life, my inner-self would go “who is stupid enough to post crap like this on internet? Well not me though, i’m a very private person” I look down on people as self-defense mechanism for my inferiority. I lied to comfort myself; cheated to think that i was a better person. I temporarily feel good about myself; problem solved. But i never really felt content.

I’ve been trying almost my entire life to compare myself with other person and felt dejection because i always think that i’m not good enough. I never quite figured out the reasons. But the more i think about it, the more i realize my huge mistakes. Of course i was never okay, of course i never felt good enough, of course i’d think so little about myself, because for all this time I've always compared my worst to someone’s best. 

“BE YOURSELF, EVERYONE ELSE IS ALREADY TAKEN” - OSCAR WILDE

I’ve heard this famous quote so many times, but only now i really begin to grasp its meaning. It is all started when i graduated in October. But i want to flashback a little bit.

When i was still a pure innocent freshmen i have one belief, that:

“Every decision that I make should be in service to fulfill my dreams”

YEP, that’s a quote from a famous TV series and I've believed that for so long. I do believe that my life should be my message. Even if i’m not ever going to be a Gandhi, I really do want my life for a greater purpose. I want to leave a legacy. I want my existence to have a meaning. I want to help people. But along the way, i strayed further from my idealism and my dream. At some point i forgot my belief and i also lost myself.

When i graduated in October, I was in this frantic mode to find a job after graduated and was desperately trying to send my resume to every company. That time all in my mind was, “Well let’s just go for whatever job i could land on.” I was so frustrated and stressed out because all of my friends were getting jobs that pays well, while i, was at home doing nothing but waiting for interview calls. But eventually, effort bore fruits. I got accepted to a multinational company and they offered me a position as a production planner. I should be happy, excited, and grateful. But the weird things is, instead of happiness, i suddenly felt this anxiousness and started to question the decision i was about to make; “Is this really whom i want to be and what i want to do with my life?”

I panic and had a cold sweats because i had to give answer immediately. But i’m lucky enough to know that when in doubt, there is always The One that has all answers and never fails. After unloading and bursting everything, my head became clear, my heart was unburdened, and i knew the answer. I called my parents and i told them my decision. My dad said, “Well, i believe in you. Whatever your decision is going to be, we will always support you. But whatever you do, whatever it is, you do it wholeheartedly, because only then you’ll have no regret, and only then you’ll be happy.” That is the moment i know, my parent’s happiness is not about me being successful, my parent’s happiness is about me being happy.

After that i called the company, i said, “Thank you for the opportunity but i’m sorry i have to refuse.”

***

It used to bother me a lot when someone ask me, “Where are you working right now?” I tried to find acceptable answers and beat around the bush. But now when people ask me the same question, my answer will be, “well nothing much. I’m unemployed, mostly at home, doing things that i love to do but never get the chance to back then.” I finally comfortable being truly me, without pretense and facade.

I started to remember the person i once was. I dream again. I hope again. And even if i’m still afraid of uncertainties, i’m starting to figure out what i want to do with my life. And once i know that bit, it’s amazing how liberating life can be. It’s my own journey and i want to make my own story. Everybody agrees that every good story is an original story, right? The story that i want to make, has to be so original and unlike any others. So what’s really the point of comparing myself to other people, when my job is to be as unlike them as i can possibly be, when my only job is to be as good at being me as they are at being them. 

C’EST LA VIE...

I rarely put my vulnerable side on social media because i always thought “what’s the point anyway.” But if there is somebody, anybody out there who reads this and you ever feel the same way as i did, i want to say a few words if it helps to ease your mind:

Everything you see in social media may not always be true. Behind those smiles, laughter, behind those pictures, behind those happy videos, everyone has their own “baggages” and burdens, we all do. Some people are just better pretender. Some people are just tougher. 

Everything you see in social media should not affect you in any way. Don’t judge people for what they seem, yet don’t you ever belittle yourself. Do what you want to do. Don’t ever seek for anybody’s approval for the one that truly matters is only yours. You’ll never be perception-less, as people will always have opinions about you; you can’t control that. But you can always be perception-free, as you have a choice to ignore them; and you can control that.

Don’t compare yourself. Instead of wasting your time looking at others and tirelessly comparing yourself, building your own kingdom/queendom you have always dreamt of, seems like a better story to pass on. 

And that’s life, c’est la vie...

- BSW

[a1town2called3hypocrisy]

Wednesday 23:55 20/11/19

Ok so this blog has been many things over the years a diary, a place to stick my random thoughts, a dream book, a bitching blog, a music blog, a photography blog and many many more.

Now starting today it's going to be a no holding back 100% account dairy of me mainly focused on looking back at this and helping me remember my past later in life.

This will be updated everyday just like 13 year old girls diary every evening I will try to include all the days main points and some of my thought processes from the day.

If you know me and you follow or end up following this blog that's fine I'm not one for secrets or being personable so I don't mind I'd ask only if you have a comment to make specifically about a post I make to make that comment to me personally before making to amyone else good or bad (all publicity is good publicity) or something like <- that.

Ok so to start I'm just going to give a rough outline of where we are at right now and some major points that I will no doubt be referencing back to in letter posts.

Mental health:

Tbh I didn't think this had changed much recently at all until I really sad back and thought about how things used to be day to day for me around the time I actually got to the extreme point of talking to a health professional about my mental state. So in January 2019 my mental health was shit I relied 100% on my friends/colleagues/family and most of my girlfriend for my happiness (that right there is in it's self unhealthy). 6 out of 7 days or basically every work day I had constant intrusive thoughts all the time my brain would just wonder, one minute I'd be happily filling the shelf the next I would have to go out back to the chiller to cry as my thought process had just gone down some random lane of self injury/my girlfriend breaking up with me or cheating on me/ a family member or close friend dieing like seriously upsetting things like ALL THE FUCKING TIME! And it's crucial to understand that I didn't think these thing would happen or that I thought they were real but I have a vivid imagination and these thought processes would just spring up and I wouldn't at first do anything and I would let this destructive depressing train of thought develop. I think this was largely due to the fact I had a job which required little intellectual thought or concentration and what I later learnt was that the more sleep deprived I was the less likely I was to shut these thought process down early on. This sometimes affected my mood for the whole day and even made me over think things in my relationship that I would never of normally given even a first thought let alone dwell on for days on end.

Thankfully I haave realised that after my change in job in February I have barely had monthly intrusive thoughts let alone daily, it took me quite while to realise this as in February I went through a break up which left me quite depressed/sad for the first 3/4 months at least of my new job but after this sadness had mainly past I have now come to realise I'm SO much happier here, amd that isn't beacuse of the people the people I met at Tesco were some of the kindest most lovely inclusive most diverse people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting it is 100% down to the fact my brain is constantly thinking now concentrating on what I'm doing or planning my day out and when I will do each important task and in what order I will do them and how could I make thos process easier/quicker/more/efficient. My brain doesn't have time to wollow in self pitty or have time to construct elaborate ideas of sadness. And when I'm not at work I'm studying or being social plus I live with one of my most dearest/closest and longest friends now who I've had the pleasure of knowing for well over a decade which is over a 1/3 of my life.

Family:

So my Nan passed away this year which saddened me greatly not only because I loved her and have fond memories of her caring for me as a child and even as I got older, but also beacuse this leaves my lovely (and I mean lovely besides my mother and my sister my favourite family member) grandfather alone in a house at 81 years old suffering from early stages of cancer all the way south in Devon. But luckly I have ma aged to see quite abit of my lovely grandfather and even hear stories I had not heard about his youth and when him and my Nan first started "courting" (which by the way sound so much more romantic and chivalrous compared to now days) which has been lovely and I'm much looking forward to seeing him for this Christmas at my mothers house (2019) I can't wait.

Love:

So surprisingly enough my thoughts on love haven't changed since my breakup early this year I still think you have to give everything communicate and try to resolve issues and compromise from time to time but also be romantic and affectionate/spontaneous keep that spark alife and most of all always remind them how truely special they are to you and try to show this as best you can. Furthermore my last relationship made me realise that I do infact really want kids, there is literally nothing more joyous than watching as a young child learns something for the first time or even more heart wrenching calls your name as one of their first words (honest to god I've never cried with happiness but the closest I've ever got is when that kid said my name the first time) or when you have desperately been trying to teach them something and they finally get it/understand or when you do something that makes them giggle and laugh over and over again (this literally has no comparison to anything I've ever felt before I could have the worst day ever have spend most the day crying see that kid for no more than an hour just playing with him and seeing the pure joy that brought him would completely change my mood) And yeah if you know me and know who I'm on about I honestly don't care that he wasn't my kid after the time I spent with him playing/watching him grow up even calming him down and putting him back to bed in the middle of the night countless times/watching him learn new thing I loved that kid.

But I'm honestly not actively trying to find love I'm not on tinder ever 5 seconds like last time I was single or on any online dating site, but at the same time I'm at the point now that if something came about I'd give it a shot. But honestly I can't be fucked with beating around the bush now I've had my fait share of it didn't work out or short term fling I want my happy ever after and a family that's where I'm at now.

I mean at this point it's well gone 1am and that covers a large part of the basics I'm happy I love my family and friends I love my job for the first time in my life and I'm pretty happy I'm not depressed or even that anxious so it's going quite well.

Anyway speak to you tomorrow.

[cumstricbusrie-blog]

Interracial dating asian man white woman

Asian Men Dating Single Women Many conservatives responded with the hashtag myrightwingbiracialfamily, posting pictures of their multiracial families to combat stereotypes that indicated a large number of southern Republicans still opposed interracial marriage.  Why is this country, which was suppose to be the melting pot, turned into a Cultural buffet? Often times women will be more happy talking and cuddling, than constantly being in the bedroom.  The question haunted me as I pondered my crush on Tian.  I am the furthest thing from a racist, believe me It's just that I now know how important some of these things can be.  Do you do your shopping, work or socializing online? Surely the other female foreign teachers at my college had secret crushes of their own.

Interracial Dating: Asian Male / White Female Couples! ft. Peter Adrian The author is actually pretty funny and, someday, I hope to marry someone just like her! The racist backlash against seeing a black man with a white woman was so severe that Cheerios had to disable comments on its YouTube account.  A European woman I worked with in 2001 famously told me that, while she found all Chinese men completely repulsive, she considered Chinese children so adorable.  However, it has also been due to the way my uncle has been treating her as well.  If that's wrong please forgive me and ignore this post If you did learn Vietnamese, how did you go about it? February 1, 2015 at 2:29 pm Hi Lisa, sounds like you might have to try and approach him.  Instead, one should recognize where each race and ethnicity comes from and their history of oppression.

Interracial Dating: Asian Male / White Female Couples! ft. Peter Adrian Like you said, the family is what Asian men need to reconcile with when it comes to this topic.  Within this racialized landscape in which whiteness has reigned supreme, the line between white and black has been the starkest marker of racial difference, with the white side of the line representing all that is positive, and the black side of the line representing all that is negative.  I'm Chinese and I've had a crush on a white guy before, and I liked him because of his openness and his carefree nature, and he was very assertive too.  InterracialDatingCentral is where people of all races, including white women, black women, asian women and latino women, come to find love and enter the asian dating world. He was friendly and respectful- and not just to me - but you too.  A total of 114 couples of Western men and Asian women versus only six couples of Asian men and Western women including him and his Brazilian wife.

alert However, my family has no Holy spirit in them.  Plus you seemed to be way overdoing it like you were putting on a performance.  Fortunately, I did not listen to their advice and I have dated men of other races.  If you like what you see, you can upgrade and obtain full access immediately! It seemed natural and normal to do the same in China.  I think it starts now, and not later.  Peter Adrian+Joanna Talk Asian Male Interracial Dating Dynamics Submit Questions or Comment Below: Subscribe for More Dating: Peter Adrian is back to discuss a very hot topic - interracial relationships.

Why is interracial dating with Asian women and white men appreciated but not the other way round? On this list, the only person I think has successfully attracted Western females is Will Yun Lee, but obviously this guy is quite successful in Hollywood, has a good body build, and unconsciously you can see he poses well, which means he acts as a high value male in real life.  However no white women in the family.  When I came down with the flu, he accompanied me to my therapy at the clinic and read to me from Chicken Soup for the Soul.  We could even reinvent ourselves and what it meant to be in love with someone.  Chinese is hard to learn to write due to the character set, where as I found vietnamese slightly easier in writing because it uses many letters similar to the english alphabet.  Wherever you are located, if you fit into our white women or black women categories, we can get you started on your asian dating journey right away! Perhaps you can ask him for help with something if you have a class in common.

Interracial Dating: Asian Male / White Female Couples! ft. Peter Adrian Last holiday season gave me plenty of food for thought on this all too familiar and often uncomfortable racially-tinged question.  But, not all women crave satisfaction like people think.  In fact, why bring up that stereotype once more? When I thought about my burgeoning crush for Tian, I figured it was no different from that college semester when I studied in Spain.  They are comfortable because, for example, blacks understand where other blacks are coming from.  Whenever someone dismisses China's entire male population as undateable, they're essentially denying that diversity.  But I don't know if Chinese is different than Vietnamese in verbally learning it because Vietnamese is what's known as a tonal language.

6 Stunning Celebrity Couples of Asian Men & Non These racial and gender preferences and the reasons behind them may not be conscious to people in the dating world, who, by and large, would probably decry bias against black women.  If I wasn't already engaged, I could say to you for certain that I'd never ever date another person so different from myself.  The driving force is, instead, my awareness of all of the straight African American women -- beautiful, smart, good women, some of them my own family and friends -- who might not have a honey to bring home this Thanksgiving holiday because they cannot find a date, even as rising numbers of eligible African American men will be wooing white women.  I enjoyed it and hope you will too! White men can therefore afford to be the pickiest group in the online dating market; they respond to fewer overtures than other men on dating websites, and they have a strong preference for white women.  Whenever anyone dared to broach the subject, usually someone would quickly pounce on the thread and sully it with some juvenile comment about Chinese men that wasn't all that different from that Long Duk Dong movie still.  However, we are continuing to investigate.

Interracial Dating: Asian Male / White Female Couples! ft. Peter Adrian Do you they approve of you dating a white woman? Right now make a Tinder profile with an average White guy or an average Asian boy and see who gets more matches from Asian girls.  Its not unusual to talk about family especially people who married in if they actually do something wrong.  Try as I might to suppress the reaction, I experience black men's choice of white women as a personal rejection of the group in which I am a part, of African American women as a whole, who have always been devalued in this society.  He even watched The Bridges of Madison County with me -- one of the weepiest chick flicks ever made -- and actually shed a few tears when it ended.  Plus she taught me the alphabet, and basic sentence structure, and so on Thanks Lynn I have some books and tapes etc, now I just need to use them lol.  But for me, personally, I'd be too scared to undertake something like this ever again.

Swirl Dating, Interracial Dating, Ready to date different? Race and the characteristics that have come to represent it -- like skin color, eye color, and hair texture -- would not be factors in matters of the heart.  All the dating app data shows it.  I would never blame anything on race or culture alone.  I am not too sure about the White community.  And when people do venture across the color line to date, they do so in ways that continue to affirm a social hierarchy based on race in which whiteness is prized.  Then again, her post appears downright classy in comparison to what I've read in the free-for-all world of anonymous expat forums across China.  In the still, he's locked in an awkward slow-dance embrace with a girl an entire head taller than him, but that's not even the worst of it.

Interracial Dating: Asian Male / White Female Couples! ft. Peter Adrian But like you said, some fear this rejection which rises a challenge in the concept of interracial dating.  My heart melted at that first sight of his big sesame-oil brown eyes.  The idea is that the more educated or the more successful black women become, the fewer opportunities they have to date black men, and therefore, they should expand their dating pool.  If you want to find true happiness, start dating Asian guys online with InterracialDatingCentral today.  Everyday InterracialDatingCentral has more and more men meeting and dating White women with whom they form meaningful relationships.  All the American girls I knew liked flirting with the local Spaniards, and why not? It is afterall part of their racial identity.

[apsbicepstraining]

24 Things You Shouldn’t Appear Guilty For Revelling In At 24

At 24, you’re expected to have a lot figured out. Your profession, your personal relationships and your investments are suddenly all up to you to manage- and it’s a balancing act for the best of us. The truth of the matter is, we all need to indulge a few frailties in order to stay sane at twenty-four. Here got a few we need to stop hit ourselves up over.

1. Drinking wine alone.

There may not be many benefits to adulthood but this is indubitably one of them.

Youve stirred it through the years of imitation I.D.s, binge-drinking, nasty next-day hangovers and maybe even a interval or two of moderation.

Now that youve learned to( largely) administer your liquor, youre clear to enjoy it responsibly that is, alone on your couch on a Thursday evening, like young adults. Because you worked hard the coming week. And you deserve it.

2. Dating someone you dont want to marry.

By twenty-four, your Facebook photo stream is nothing but a gallery of ring finger with stones nuzzled onto them. And while the pressure to find your soulmate is seeming realer than ever, the very important to remember that you dont have to find them tomorrow.

You still have time to date around. You still have is high time to get your mettle crack. You still have time to go on bad Tinder dates, requiem over ridiculous hookups and prosecute the guy or daughter who are not able be the one, but who clears you fairly glad right now.

The more heavines you put on noticing the one, the more your sexual love will balk under the pressure. So take the possibility of being chill out, move slowly and give whatever happens, happen. You have plenty of age left to find your future partner at twenty-four years.

3. Announcing to your mummy.

Just because youre a full-blown adult who may even have things like a errand and their own suite you havent stopped being someones son or daughter. And you havent stopped necessary support from the people who know you best.

Its okay to have dates where the world feels like too much. Its okay to not have it together one hundred percent of the time. And its okay to still lean on kinfolk or sidekicks who maintain you afloat. They love you and they want to be there for you the same direction youd be there for them in an instant if they needed it.

So you binged on twenty-five dollar candles. So your living room looks just like a pinterest board but your purse took a trouncing to corroborate it. And as frivolous as those buys may seem in retrospect, its okay to establish them now and then.

Because the thing about being twenty-four is that youre transitioning between life phases. And you sometimes need to indulge in a few transitional objectives to induce yourself detect more like the adult that you are becoming.

5. Leading out and getting 21 st-birthday-style drunk.

You dont have to be completely done having fun at twenty-four.

You may not hit up the dance storey as regularly as you used to, but theres no reproach in used to go every now and then and living it up the direction you used to when you were twenty-one and twenty-two.

You have real world responsibilities now, and with that comes real-world stress. The nature you need to blow off, in whatever method works for you.

6. Missing the hell out of your ex.

Navigating life gets lonely thats an irrefutable fact , no matter how surrounded by loved ones “you think youre”. Its tough to take on brand-new phases of your life all alone, and its natural to miss the ones who formerly took them on alongside us.

Its not weak or pathetic or worrisome to spot yourself missing your ex at twenty-four. Its only human to miss who weve cherished. And you have all the time on earth to move on.

7. Wreaking a position just to get money.

Its okay to not be working your fantasy undertaking at twenty-four.

If youre attracting in enough coin to money your own hire, make minimum payments on your student loans and keep your energy from shutting off, youre doing a whole lot better than most.

Be patient with your daydreams and ideals. You have a long occupation ahead of you to pursue them, and your pragmatism will be represented you in the long run.

8. Expending your money on traveling.

If youre enthusiastic and free enough to travel at twenty-four, future developments self will thank you terribly for having done so. The knowledge you compile will intend more to you than the dreaming mansion or automobile you could have acquired one year sooner had you stayed home and hoarded your paychecks.

Plus, “youve never” know which commitments are suddenly going to pop up and keep you settled in one target. This may be the last chance you have to travel freely, for many years to come.

9. Staying home while everybody else is traveling.

Just as traveling is worthwhile and admirable if its what you truly crave from their own lives, the same could be said of abiding residence.

While your Facebook feed is spate with photographs of your ex-pat friends in Asia, take pride in your own decisiveness and future directions if youd instead be at home advancing professionally. Youre old sufficient to reach your own selects at twenty-four and you dont have to hop on whichever bandwagon examines the most glamorous.

10. Experimenting with your identity.

Theres still so much is high time to figure out who you are at twenty-four. You arent chained to the identity you structured in college or high school or childhood, and you shouldnt be ashamed to keep inquiring yourself.

Dye your fuzz a strange colouring. Get a tattoo. Take up a brand-new sport or brand-new pastime. Its never too late to start something new. You could be a whole new person by the time you stumble twenty-six or seven.

You cant burn the candle at both ends and expect to somehow remain sane. Youre old-fashioned enough and secure enough to know when you need a nighttime in. And the last situation you should ever feel is guilty for cashing in on your right to have one.

For some, a frightful promotion and compensate heighten is an accomplishment. For others, simply getting out of bed and taking a shower every morning is a accomplishment.

Whatever it is that youre proud of yourself for going done, own that pride. You are your own best friend and counselor at twenty-four. And if you cant celebrate your accomplishments, who else is going to?

13. Equating yourself to others your age.

Comparisons can be undesirable and detrimental at worst but they can also be perfectly normal.

If youre rarely weighing yourself up to the people around you and determining yourself coming up short, congratulations you are a human being. Youre going to feel inadequate sometimes. Youre going to feel like everybody else is onward. And the only thing worse than drawing likeness between yourself and others is overpowering yourself up for doing so.

Comparisons are a natural part of life. And as long as you can accept that and take them with a grain of salt, youre perhaps going to be just fine.

14. Allowing your friendships to change.

Its normal to find an enormous amount of push to conserve old friendships at twenty-four. Youre in a new chapter of life, but you dont want to leave the people from your last phase behind.

But that doesnt mean you have to break your back to keep something together. Ensure your friends a little less doesnt mean youve stopped desiring them. It just means youre ready to cherish them differently in a way that works better for both of you.

15. Asking for help at work.

Its ordinary to feel as though you should unexpectedly know as soon as somebody mitts you a big-boy or big-girl undertaking. But thats an unrealistic expectancy.

Refusing to ask for help merely means that youre limiting yourself and your potential. Its okay to indulge in the skills required of others at twenty-four years old. Possibilities are, all of your supervisors formerly did the exact same.

16. Dismissing everyone elses advice for you.

Just as its useful to know when you need assistant at twenty-four, its also useful to know when the advice youre being given isnt helpful. Just because youre at the bottom of the barrel professionally or personally doesnt means you dont inherently know whats excellent for you. And you owe it to yourself to follow that insight above all else.

17. Trying the newest fad diet.

Dont worry about being that guy or girlfriend. Youre learning what works for your organization and thats going to make some trial and error along the way.

So you hop on board the kale fad or try out a brand-new juice purify. Just because its overdone in the media doesnt mean its not going to work for you. In reality, youd has become a buffoon to opt out of trying something you want to try exclusively because it is favourite.

18. Skipping the gym now and then.

Fitness and health are important but its no secret that you have a lot of rivalling priorities at twenty-four.

Sometimes youre forced to sacrifice a bit of self-care to get ahead professionally and personally. And thats okay. As long as youre able to keep yourself on a health regime that works for you long-term, the odd bounced workout wont kill you. So cut yourself some slack when you need it. Youre not doing yourself any advantages by over-exerting yourself.

19. Saying No to professional or personal commitments.

If you said yes to every social commitment, networking incident, employment assignment and familial commitment that you were invited to, youd physically drop dead by the age of twenty-five. Memorizing when to strategically say No is not just a suggestion for your twenty-fourth year of life its a survival programme.

20. Watching too much Netflix.

Theres ever something more meaningful or important you could be doing with their own lives than watching Tv. But sometimes “youve been” exactly is a requirement to escape actuality for several hours at a time. And thats okay. You cant be on youre a-game 24 hours per day, 7 days a week. Youre only human.

21. Still missing college sometimes.

Life as a young adult is exciting and invigorating and parcelled with new opportunities. But its likewise stressful and harried and seemingly impossible to navigate some dates. And on those daylights, its okay to remember about simpler experiences. Missing the past doesnt mean that you are not moving forward it precisely means youre able to appreciate the good times that youve had.

22. Forming some greedy decisions.

Youre allowed to quit the job that is constructing your mothers proud of you. Youre allowed to break up with members of the public who perfect on paper. Youre allowed to choose yourself, over and over and over again when youre twenty-four years old. Because if you are not putting yourself firstly at this stage of life , nobody else is going to do it for you.

23. Still harboring pipe dreams about living and ardour and handiwork.

Youre faced with a lot of coarse realities at twenty-four years old but that doesnt mean you have to let go of the ridiculously gigantic dreamings that youve been reining since childhood.

If youre not fantasy of bigger and better and more amazing things for yourself at twenty-four years, youre likely doing something wrong. Because the only behavior to stimulate those daydreams come true is to keep adamantly agreeing to them.

24. Taking your damn age figuring happenings out.

If theres anything you still have at twenty-four, its age. Time to try, time to miscarry, time to fall down and mess up and pick yourself back up, as many times as you still need to.

You dont have to have your entire life figured out at twenty-four years old. You precisely have to be committed to trying your damnedest at got to get. And if youre doing that, youre going to be more than okay.

The post 24 Things You Shouldn’t Appear Guilty For Revelling In At 24 appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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WhCristiano's reinvention: his stats are worse than ever at Real, but he is for sure one of the greatest ever

Comparisons, as Miguel Cervantes correctly asserted, may well be odious but they are 'Nirvana' to football's statistics and information gatherers currently working overtime as Cristiano Ronaldo hones in on the all time league scoring record. Has he reached 400 goals in the colours of Real Madrid, or is it as many say 399? Can we count his free kick strike in Real Madrid's 2-1 victory over Real Sociedad or was it deflected in off Pepe? On such minutiae, friendships founder, families fall out. More importantly, does it matter? As if the experts didn't have enough data to work on with the constant comparisons that sally back and forth between Cristiano and his main rival for football lovers' affection, Leo Messi, now the names of former greats, Gerd Muller and Jimmy Greaves once again enter the spotlight they adorned with such distinction in the dim and distant past. And the problem is of course with facts, figures, stats and records is that very often they depend on the criteria you work with and - depending on who you believe - Cristiano is already the greatest scorer in League football history and not as the stat men would have it, one behind Das Bomber (Gerd Muller) and two short of Jimmy Greaves. The five leagues that qualify as 'top' apparently - and might I add at this point, says who?? - are in Spain, England, Italy, Germany and France and NOT in Portugal where Cristiano scored three goals for Sporting before his move to Manchester United, goals that would already have seen him lauded as the number one scorer in league history. This is one stat that will certainly provoke puzzled disbelief from a league that has, in Porto and Benfica, historically two of soccer's great sides and a country that, lest we forget, currently holds the European Championship. But I digress. What is most important is that in goal scoring terms at least, Cristiano and Messi and Greaves and Muller are/were the best - the very very best - and to make comparisons between one and the other bearing in mind they played in different times, in different conditions, on different surfaces with different equipment and a different approach to the rule book is ultimately to demean their greatness. A while back I incurred the wrath of Ronaldo fans across the world when I said he had declined physically. The reason I said it was simple - he had. A chronic knee injury - and I use the word in it's literal meaning which describes an illness or medical condition characterized by long duration or frequent recurrence - meant that he no longer had the blistering pace that would regularly destroy defences. And he knew it. I never said he would stop scoring and in fact it was the nature of the injury that compelled him to re-invent himself purely as a striker and bring him in from the flanks. He lost his speed, his electric bursts of pace and replaced them with even more of what he already had in abundance namely, a voracious hunger, an unceasing desire to be the best and a competitiveness and dedication to adapting to his new role. As he says himself, "With dedication and hard work things happen naturally", to which I might add that if it was that easy then we'd all do it. In the process he realised that to become the greatest striker in the world - and there is no greater at the moment - he has even strived to change his body shape to make him even more lethal in and around the penalty area. He is now around three kilos lighter, has less muscle development on his top half but has increased his muscle power and strength in his legs in his transformation purely as a striker. He has also for the first time realised that as the sands of time begin to run, then sometimes less is more and so consequently is far more prepared to be rotated and/or occasionaly substituted by Zinadine Zidane who he clearly trusts implicitly. At a time when many players of his age - Ronaldo is 32, and a battered and bruised 32 at that - are looking towards retirement, media work, cameo appearances and perhaps a bit of coaching, he will be hoping to plot the downfall of probably the likes of Giorgio Chiellini and Leonard Bonucci as Real and Juventus makes their almost inevitable journeys to Wales for the Champions League final next month. Real Madrid's third final in four years and one that should they win will make them the first side since the tournament changed into the Champions League format to win the trophy in successive years. Meanwhile, Ronaldo, who has scored 50 goals or more every season at Real, has got the worst stats of this time at Real (35 goals 'only') but he has scored more goals than ever from the quarter finals of the Champions League. Another proof of his re-invention. The hunger and motivation that forced the change comes from a desire and a motivation to be the very best and a psychological toughness that is difficult to fathom but probably has its roots in the tough lonely road both he and Messi trod on their way to the very top. It there are to be comparisons made about the relative greatness of the four players then it is in this psychological department that we should pay most attention. As mere boys both Messi and Cristiano climbed aboard boat, trains and planes in search of their fortune while the likelihood is that players like Greaves and Muller used to go home to their Mums for tea after training with their local clubs. Much against his better judgment Greaves did take the plunge and travelled aboard although, in truth, he never wanted to go and did his level best to get out of the deal. He hated every minute of his stay with AC Milan in Italy. Muller to be fair had more success on the road in the twilight of his career though at a much lower level scoring a goal every two games more or less over three seasons with Fort Lauderdale in the USA Both Greaves and Muller succumbed for whatever reason to the demon drink post-playing and both are now in poor health. Greaves suffered a severe stroke in 2015 and is now looked after at home by those who love him now as they have always done, for better or worse, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. In 2015 Bayern Munich chairman Karl Heniz Rummenigge confirmed that Muller had been diagnosed with Alzeimer's disease adding by way of tribute that: “Gerd Müller is one of the all-time greats of world football. Without his goals, Bayern Munich and German football would not be what it is today." “He was a fantastic team-mate and is a friend. Gerd will always enjoy a place in the Bayern family. And when the cheering, the success and the adulation stopped, the drink and depression kicked in. Thankfully both despite poor health, gained redemption. We live in a different world today. Players have more therapists, counsellors, advisors, assistants, coaches, trainers and general Svengali's than you could shake a stick at. But even accounting for that, the impression that the likes of Crisitiano and Messi spend their life cushioned and protected from the outside world is illusory. The fact is they are probably mentally, and certainly financially, better prepared to deal with the pressures that will come with facing the end of the road than perhaps Gerd and Jimmy were but only time will tell us how they will cope with retirement when it comes along. But ignoring comparisons, tinder dry statistics, and boring facts that never really tell it like it is or was, I'm reminded by what I once heard the brilliant radio and television presenter and football nut, Danny Baker say which, for me, kind of sums it all up. "The thing about great players is that what makes them great is that when you watch them play, they make you gasp," he said. And when we are pulling mere numbers, sterile figures, impersonal stats out of the air to justify our arguments this is what we should remember above everything else. When Cristiano and Messi play, as when Greaves and Muller played we all gasped as they showed us, week in week out, just why we love - and occasionally hate - this magnificently flawed game so much.

[apsbicepstraining]

24 Things You Shouldn’t Appear Guilty For Revelling In At 24

At 24, you’re expected to have a lot figured out. Your profession, your personal relationships and your investments are suddenly all up to you to manage- and it’s a balancing act for the best of us. The truth of the matter is, we all need to indulge a few frailties in order to stay sane at twenty-four. Here got a few we need to stop hit ourselves up over.

1. Drinking wine alone.

There may not be many benefits to adulthood but this is indubitably one of them.

Youve stirred it through the years of imitation I.D.s, binge-drinking, nasty next-day hangovers and maybe even a interval or two of moderation.

Now that youve learned to( largely) administer your liquor, youre clear to enjoy it responsibly that is, alone on your couch on a Thursday evening, like young adults. Because you worked hard the coming week. And you deserve it.

2. Dating someone you dont want to marry.

By twenty-four, your Facebook photo stream is nothing but a gallery of ring finger with stones nuzzled onto them. And while the pressure to find your soulmate is seeming realer than ever, the very important to remember that you dont have to find them tomorrow.

You still have time to date around. You still have is high time to get your mettle crack. You still have time to go on bad Tinder dates, requiem over ridiculous hookups and prosecute the guy or daughter who are not able be the one, but who clears you fairly glad right now.

The more heavines you put on noticing the one, the more your sexual love will balk under the pressure. So take the possibility of being chill out, move slowly and give whatever happens, happen. You have plenty of age left to find your future partner at twenty-four years.

3. Announcing to your mummy.

Just because youre a full-blown adult who may even have things like a errand and their own suite you havent stopped being someones son or daughter. And you havent stopped necessary support from the people who know you best.

Its okay to have dates where the world feels like too much. Its okay to not have it together one hundred percent of the time. And its okay to still lean on kinfolk or sidekicks who maintain you afloat. They love you and they want to be there for you the same direction youd be there for them in an instant if they needed it.

So you binged on twenty-five dollar candles. So your living room looks just like a pinterest board but your purse took a trouncing to corroborate it. And as frivolous as those buys may seem in retrospect, its okay to establish them now and then.

Because the thing about being twenty-four is that youre transitioning between life phases. And you sometimes need to indulge in a few transitional objectives to induce yourself detect more like the adult that you are becoming.

5. Leading out and getting 21 st-birthday-style drunk.

You dont have to be completely done having fun at twenty-four.

You may not hit up the dance storey as regularly as you used to, but theres no reproach in used to go every now and then and living it up the direction you used to when you were twenty-one and twenty-two.

You have real world responsibilities now, and with that comes real-world stress. The nature you need to blow off, in whatever method works for you.

6. Missing the hell out of your ex.

Navigating life gets lonely thats an irrefutable fact , no matter how surrounded by loved ones “you think youre”. Its tough to take on brand-new phases of your life all alone, and its natural to miss the ones who formerly took them on alongside us.

Its not weak or pathetic or worrisome to spot yourself missing your ex at twenty-four. Its only human to miss who weve cherished. And you have all the time on earth to move on.

7. Wreaking a position just to get money.

Its okay to not be working your fantasy undertaking at twenty-four.

If youre attracting in enough coin to money your own hire, make minimum payments on your student loans and keep your energy from shutting off, youre doing a whole lot better than most.

Be patient with your daydreams and ideals. You have a long occupation ahead of you to pursue them, and your pragmatism will be represented you in the long run.

8. Expending your money on traveling.

If youre enthusiastic and free enough to travel at twenty-four, future developments self will thank you terribly for having done so. The knowledge you compile will intend more to you than the dreaming mansion or automobile you could have acquired one year sooner had you stayed home and hoarded your paychecks.

Plus, “youve never” know which commitments are suddenly going to pop up and keep you settled in one target. This may be the last chance you have to travel freely, for many years to come.

9. Staying home while everybody else is traveling.

Just as traveling is worthwhile and admirable if its what you truly crave from their own lives, the same could be said of abiding residence.

While your Facebook feed is spate with photographs of your ex-pat friends in Asia, take pride in your own decisiveness and future directions if youd instead be at home advancing professionally. Youre old sufficient to reach your own selects at twenty-four and you dont have to hop on whichever bandwagon examines the most glamorous.

10. Experimenting with your identity.

Theres still so much is high time to figure out who you are at twenty-four. You arent chained to the identity you structured in college or high school or childhood, and you shouldnt be ashamed to keep inquiring yourself.

Dye your fuzz a strange colouring. Get a tattoo. Take up a brand-new sport or brand-new pastime. Its never too late to start something new. You could be a whole new person by the time you stumble twenty-six or seven.

You cant burn the candle at both ends and expect to somehow remain sane. Youre old-fashioned enough and secure enough to know when you need a nighttime in. And the last situation you should ever feel is guilty for cashing in on your right to have one.

For some, a frightful promotion and compensate heighten is an accomplishment. For others, simply getting out of bed and taking a shower every morning is a accomplishment.

Whatever it is that youre proud of yourself for going done, own that pride. You are your own best friend and counselor at twenty-four. And if you cant celebrate your accomplishments, who else is going to?

13. Equating yourself to others your age.

Comparisons can be undesirable and detrimental at worst but they can also be perfectly normal.

If youre rarely weighing yourself up to the people around you and determining yourself coming up short, congratulations you are a human being. Youre going to feel inadequate sometimes. Youre going to feel like everybody else is onward. And the only thing worse than drawing likeness between yourself and others is overpowering yourself up for doing so.

Comparisons are a natural part of life. And as long as you can accept that and take them with a grain of salt, youre perhaps going to be just fine.

14. Allowing your friendships to change.

Its normal to find an enormous amount of push to conserve old friendships at twenty-four. Youre in a new chapter of life, but you dont want to leave the people from your last phase behind.

But that doesnt mean you have to break your back to keep something together. Ensure your friends a little less doesnt mean youve stopped desiring them. It just means youre ready to cherish them differently in a way that works better for both of you.

15. Asking for help at work.

Its ordinary to feel as though you should unexpectedly know as soon as somebody mitts you a big-boy or big-girl undertaking. But thats an unrealistic expectancy.

Refusing to ask for help merely means that youre limiting yourself and your potential. Its okay to indulge in the skills required of others at twenty-four years old. Possibilities are, all of your supervisors formerly did the exact same.

16. Dismissing everyone elses advice for you.

Just as its useful to know when you need assistant at twenty-four, its also useful to know when the advice youre being given isnt helpful. Just because youre at the bottom of the barrel professionally or personally doesnt means you dont inherently know whats excellent for you. And you owe it to yourself to follow that insight above all else.

17. Trying the newest fad diet.

Dont worry about being that guy or girlfriend. Youre learning what works for your organization and thats going to make some trial and error along the way.

So you hop on board the kale fad or try out a brand-new juice purify. Just because its overdone in the media doesnt mean its not going to work for you. In reality, youd has become a buffoon to opt out of trying something you want to try exclusively because it is favourite.

18. Skipping the gym now and then.

Fitness and health are important but its no secret that you have a lot of rivalling priorities at twenty-four.

Sometimes youre forced to sacrifice a bit of self-care to get ahead professionally and personally. And thats okay. As long as youre able to keep yourself on a health regime that works for you long-term, the odd bounced workout wont kill you. So cut yourself some slack when you need it. Youre not doing yourself any advantages by over-exerting yourself.

19. Saying No to professional or personal commitments.

If you said yes to every social commitment, networking incident, employment assignment and familial commitment that you were invited to, youd physically drop dead by the age of twenty-five. Memorizing when to strategically say No is not just a suggestion for your twenty-fourth year of life its a survival programme.

20. Watching too much Netflix.

Theres ever something more meaningful or important you could be doing with their own lives than watching Tv. But sometimes “youve been” exactly is a requirement to escape actuality for several hours at a time. And thats okay. You cant be on youre a-game 24 hours per day, 7 days a week. Youre only human.

21. Still missing college sometimes.

Life as a young adult is exciting and invigorating and parcelled with new opportunities. But its likewise stressful and harried and seemingly impossible to navigate some dates. And on those daylights, its okay to remember about simpler experiences. Missing the past doesnt mean that you are not moving forward it precisely means youre able to appreciate the good times that youve had.

22. Forming some greedy decisions.

Youre allowed to quit the job that is constructing your mothers proud of you. Youre allowed to break up with members of the public who perfect on paper. Youre allowed to choose yourself, over and over and over again when youre twenty-four years old. Because if you are not putting yourself firstly at this stage of life , nobody else is going to do it for you.

23. Still harboring pipe dreams about living and ardour and handiwork.

Youre faced with a lot of coarse realities at twenty-four years old but that doesnt mean you have to let go of the ridiculously gigantic dreamings that youve been reining since childhood.

If youre not fantasy of bigger and better and more amazing things for yourself at twenty-four years, youre likely doing something wrong. Because the only behavior to stimulate those daydreams come true is to keep adamantly agreeing to them.

24. Taking your damn age figuring happenings out.

If theres anything you still have at twenty-four, its age. Time to try, time to miscarry, time to fall down and mess up and pick yourself back up, as many times as you still need to.

You dont have to have your entire life figured out at twenty-four years old. You precisely have to be committed to trying your damnedest at got to get. And if youre doing that, youre going to be more than okay.

The post 24 Things You Shouldn’t Appear Guilty For Revelling In At 24 appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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24 Things You Shouldn’t Appear Guilty For Revelling In At 24

At 24, you’re expected to have a lot figured out. Your profession, your personal relationships and your investments are suddenly all up to you to manage- and it’s a balancing act for the best of us. The truth of the matter is, we all need to indulge a few frailties in order to stay sane at twenty-four. Here got a few we need to stop hit ourselves up over.

1. Drinking wine alone.

There may not be many benefits to adulthood but this is indubitably one of them.

Youve stirred it through the years of imitation I.D.s, binge-drinking, nasty next-day hangovers and maybe even a interval or two of moderation.

Now that youve learned to( largely) administer your liquor, youre clear to enjoy it responsibly that is, alone on your couch on a Thursday evening, like young adults. Because you worked hard the coming week. And you deserve it.

2. Dating someone you dont want to marry.

By twenty-four, your Facebook photo stream is nothing but a gallery of ring finger with stones nuzzled onto them. And while the pressure to find your soulmate is seeming realer than ever, the very important to remember that you dont have to find them tomorrow.

You still have time to date around. You still have is high time to get your mettle crack. You still have time to go on bad Tinder dates, requiem over ridiculous hookups and prosecute the guy or daughter who are not able be the one, but who clears you fairly glad right now.

The more heavines you put on noticing the one, the more your sexual love will balk under the pressure. So take the possibility of being chill out, move slowly and give whatever happens, happen. You have plenty of age left to find your future partner at twenty-four years.

3. Announcing to your mummy.

Just because youre a full-blown adult who may even have things like a errand and their own suite you havent stopped being someones son or daughter. And you havent stopped necessary support from the people who know you best.

Its okay to have dates where the world feels like too much. Its okay to not have it together one hundred percent of the time. And its okay to still lean on kinfolk or sidekicks who maintain you afloat. They love you and they want to be there for you the same direction youd be there for them in an instant if they needed it.

So you binged on twenty-five dollar candles. So your living room looks just like a pinterest board but your purse took a trouncing to corroborate it. And as frivolous as those buys may seem in retrospect, its okay to establish them now and then.

Because the thing about being twenty-four is that youre transitioning between life phases. And you sometimes need to indulge in a few transitional objectives to induce yourself detect more like the adult that you are becoming.

5. Leading out and getting 21 st-birthday-style drunk.

You dont have to be completely done having fun at twenty-four.

You may not hit up the dance storey as regularly as you used to, but theres no reproach in used to go every now and then and living it up the direction you used to when you were twenty-one and twenty-two.

You have real world responsibilities now, and with that comes real-world stress. The nature you need to blow off, in whatever method works for you.

6. Missing the hell out of your ex.

Navigating life gets lonely thats an irrefutable fact , no matter how surrounded by loved ones “you think youre”. Its tough to take on brand-new phases of your life all alone, and its natural to miss the ones who formerly took them on alongside us.

Its not weak or pathetic or worrisome to spot yourself missing your ex at twenty-four. Its only human to miss who weve cherished. And you have all the time on earth to move on.

7. Wreaking a position just to get money.

Its okay to not be working your fantasy undertaking at twenty-four.

If youre attracting in enough coin to money your own hire, make minimum payments on your student loans and keep your energy from shutting off, youre doing a whole lot better than most.

Be patient with your daydreams and ideals. You have a long occupation ahead of you to pursue them, and your pragmatism will be represented you in the long run.

8. Expending your money on traveling.

If youre enthusiastic and free enough to travel at twenty-four, future developments self will thank you terribly for having done so. The knowledge you compile will intend more to you than the dreaming mansion or automobile you could have acquired one year sooner had you stayed home and hoarded your paychecks.

Plus, “youve never” know which commitments are suddenly going to pop up and keep you settled in one target. This may be the last chance you have to travel freely, for many years to come.

9. Staying home while everybody else is traveling.

Just as traveling is worthwhile and admirable if its what you truly crave from their own lives, the same could be said of abiding residence.

While your Facebook feed is spate with photographs of your ex-pat friends in Asia, take pride in your own decisiveness and future directions if youd instead be at home advancing professionally. Youre old sufficient to reach your own selects at twenty-four and you dont have to hop on whichever bandwagon examines the most glamorous.

10. Experimenting with your identity.

Theres still so much is high time to figure out who you are at twenty-four. You arent chained to the identity you structured in college or high school or childhood, and you shouldnt be ashamed to keep inquiring yourself.

Dye your fuzz a strange colouring. Get a tattoo. Take up a brand-new sport or brand-new pastime. Its never too late to start something new. You could be a whole new person by the time you stumble twenty-six or seven.

You cant burn the candle at both ends and expect to somehow remain sane. Youre old-fashioned enough and secure enough to know when you need a nighttime in. And the last situation you should ever feel is guilty for cashing in on your right to have one.

For some, a frightful promotion and compensate heighten is an accomplishment. For others, simply getting out of bed and taking a shower every morning is a accomplishment.

Whatever it is that youre proud of yourself for going done, own that pride. You are your own best friend and counselor at twenty-four. And if you cant celebrate your accomplishments, who else is going to?

13. Equating yourself to others your age.

Comparisons can be undesirable and detrimental at worst but they can also be perfectly normal.

If youre rarely weighing yourself up to the people around you and determining yourself coming up short, congratulations you are a human being. Youre going to feel inadequate sometimes. Youre going to feel like everybody else is onward. And the only thing worse than drawing likeness between yourself and others is overpowering yourself up for doing so.

Comparisons are a natural part of life. And as long as you can accept that and take them with a grain of salt, youre perhaps going to be just fine.

14. Allowing your friendships to change.

Its normal to find an enormous amount of push to conserve old friendships at twenty-four. Youre in a new chapter of life, but you dont want to leave the people from your last phase behind.

But that doesnt mean you have to break your back to keep something together. Ensure your friends a little less doesnt mean youve stopped desiring them. It just means youre ready to cherish them differently in a way that works better for both of you.

15. Asking for help at work.

Its ordinary to feel as though you should unexpectedly know as soon as somebody mitts you a big-boy or big-girl undertaking. But thats an unrealistic expectancy.

Refusing to ask for help merely means that youre limiting yourself and your potential. Its okay to indulge in the skills required of others at twenty-four years old. Possibilities are, all of your supervisors formerly did the exact same.

16. Dismissing everyone elses advice for you.

Just as its useful to know when you need assistant at twenty-four, its also useful to know when the advice youre being given isnt helpful. Just because youre at the bottom of the barrel professionally or personally doesnt means you dont inherently know whats excellent for you. And you owe it to yourself to follow that insight above all else.

17. Trying the newest fad diet.

Dont worry about being that guy or girlfriend. Youre learning what works for your organization and thats going to make some trial and error along the way.

So you hop on board the kale fad or try out a brand-new juice purify. Just because its overdone in the media doesnt mean its not going to work for you. In reality, youd has become a buffoon to opt out of trying something you want to try exclusively because it is favourite.

18. Skipping the gym now and then.

Fitness and health are important but its no secret that you have a lot of rivalling priorities at twenty-four.

Sometimes youre forced to sacrifice a bit of self-care to get ahead professionally and personally. And thats okay. As long as youre able to keep yourself on a health regime that works for you long-term, the odd bounced workout wont kill you. So cut yourself some slack when you need it. Youre not doing yourself any advantages by over-exerting yourself.

19. Saying No to professional or personal commitments.

If you said yes to every social commitment, networking incident, employment assignment and familial commitment that you were invited to, youd physically drop dead by the age of twenty-five. Memorizing when to strategically say No is not just a suggestion for your twenty-fourth year of life its a survival programme.

20. Watching too much Netflix.

Theres ever something more meaningful or important you could be doing with their own lives than watching Tv. But sometimes “youve been” exactly is a requirement to escape actuality for several hours at a time. And thats okay. You cant be on youre a-game 24 hours per day, 7 days a week. Youre only human.

21. Still missing college sometimes.

Life as a young adult is exciting and invigorating and parcelled with new opportunities. But its likewise stressful and harried and seemingly impossible to navigate some dates. And on those daylights, its okay to remember about simpler experiences. Missing the past doesnt mean that you are not moving forward it precisely means youre able to appreciate the good times that youve had.

22. Forming some greedy decisions.

Youre allowed to quit the job that is constructing your mothers proud of you. Youre allowed to break up with members of the public who perfect on paper. Youre allowed to choose yourself, over and over and over again when youre twenty-four years old. Because if you are not putting yourself firstly at this stage of life , nobody else is going to do it for you.

23. Still harboring pipe dreams about living and ardour and handiwork.

Youre faced with a lot of coarse realities at twenty-four years old but that doesnt mean you have to let go of the ridiculously gigantic dreamings that youve been reining since childhood.

If youre not fantasy of bigger and better and more amazing things for yourself at twenty-four years, youre likely doing something wrong. Because the only behavior to stimulate those daydreams come true is to keep adamantly agreeing to them.

24. Taking your damn age figuring happenings out.

If theres anything you still have at twenty-four, its age. Time to try, time to miscarry, time to fall down and mess up and pick yourself back up, as many times as you still need to.

You dont have to have your entire life figured out at twenty-four years old. You precisely have to be committed to trying your damnedest at got to get. And if youre doing that, youre going to be more than okay.

The post 24 Things You Shouldn’t Appear Guilty For Revelling In At 24 appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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