#might as well sing it at the guy who actually wants to be your sugar daddy

[murkystarlight]

Screw it.

Dreamzzz season2 spoilers pt.1

(And my personal comments)

Alright. Starting from episode 1

I didn't realize that Cooper having a sudden interest in chips would be a hint to something later(it probably isn't but it seems like it to me). Cooper apperantly had a full list of things to fix and make... also the Night Bureau really can't do their job done properly can they. How does Cooper go to school? And study? And get good grades?? Also love how everyone names their cars

It was cool seeing Sneak working with them. And Nova, too bad they... uh- dissapear after like... episode 4? I think

Mateo trying to find a way to get z-blob back, and the Nightmare king... why is he such an icon all of a sudden?? Like-

Also, I like that how Mateo got the kid show treatment. Might as well sing 'we're all in this together'

And Dallas joining the knitting club!!

It was pretty nice. Just a simple small detail, but I like stuff like that so... Looks like he's not going to be bullying anyone now

It was very fun watching the crows(ravens? Don't remember) snatch their memories. When I saw what the memories that was stolen were about I started screaming like-

I actually think they all have a good reasoning. Logan always loved his music(would've been better if he forgot how to sing entirely) , Cooper... well he's the tech guy, and for Izzie, she was the who accepted the dream world the fastest. Who liked it the most in the first season right? There are more cool and amazing reasons than this but my stupid brain can't think of anything else right now

Episode 2

Apperantly there's a lava realm? Cool

Mr. Oz being angry, Logan being.. well, Logan. And Cooper is just adorable. He's having so much trouble. His purpose in life kinda snap

And when everyone else just jumps into the castle, Izzie takes her time to take the stairs

And Izzie having trouble with "dont open your mouth" she's so funnn

I had trouble understanding Astrid-

Royce guy has a weird whistle.

Cooper looks so happy until his mind went blank and his face is just- 'dude wait, what was I doing?' I thought he lost his tech skills?? Why did he become... dumber? It's cute though

"Sorry-" _ Izzie

Also, Logan said a lot of smart stuff in this episode. One of my favorites was

"If I forgot it, how would I know?"

Mr. Oz trying SO hard not to swear. I could see the struggle-

And the flash cards 😭 when did they get a rule book?!!(first ep)

Also, how many eggs do you think Cooper cracked. How does he not remember how to not but a bolt and screw together?? Just- stick it in! Learn to do it again? Poor thing

And the Night Hunter! +Susan and Snivel. They're a bunch of sillies

Cooper getting pressured by his family again- (is it just me or does he get his character development after like... two episodes and be the one stable guy holding the team together? He's useful. Like actually useful) Cooper's voice also wouldn't stop cracking

"Do you ever get sand in your eyes? Or your shorts?" (The Sandman had legs?? Yes, had. He... he gone now.)

Also kinda funny how all of Mateo's dreamcrafting gets blob-ified

"The one time! I actually want to hear your beats, and you forget?!"

Zoey! Why would you randomly jump into a cauldron!! (Also, the Night Hunters memory being Zoey- I already had a feel)

Mrs Castillo is the best

I'm also very curious of... what or who the Never Witch is??

There is a lot of pushing and shoving people. And it's only the second episode

Also-

"So you're not the tech genius you used to be. You still got- ....uh.... what other talents do you have?"

Oh godddd noooooooooooo he said it- Oh god........

"I'm gonna go drown my troubles in the candy realm" (kids. Too much sugar isn't good for you)

(He can't even figure out how to put his phone on silent anymore) he got an A+ in a science project, by cooking?? I thought it was a SCIENCE PROGECT??

Imagine a kid suddenly pulling out an apron and asking for a kitchen to work in. During a science project (he's a chef now), he also just... kept the flan? Thing, in his locker-.... is that... okay?

I mean... I did watch this science show on Netflix about these super smart girls and their names being mc². And one of them bakes. Using science. I mean... science works in everything... and I guess if the teachers said okay then its.. okay?

Sandman and Never Witch fighting, he will be remembered. It was pretty cool actually. I wonder if they have any history

Next part

Bonus(also the reason of why I said screw it)

[yanderes-galore]

im so glad to see your request are open i love your works!! Cay i request yandere Jerome Mcelroy ( simply the Chef lol ) with reader please? there are barely anything about him!

Yeah, I get it. I think it's because when people write South Park fanfics it usually revolves around The Boys and Chef has a controversy (but it's South Park, when does someone not?) I'll see what I have for Chef ^^ In the concept I'm going to refer to him as Chef, just letting you know.

Yandere! Jerome McElroy ("Chef") Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Mentions of intimacy, Trust issues, Persistent behavior, Dubious relationship, Fear of cheating, Toxic behavior, Manipulation.

Chef is a character that's often talked to for advice by The Boys.

He's also more of a romantic type.

Or at least... skilled in the intimate side of romance.

While Chef is a character that would most likely be a romantic yandere... he has potential to be a platonic yandere.

As a platonic yandere he'd act somewhat of a parental figure.

As a romantic yandere he'd be flirtatious yet respectful of his darling's boundaries.

This concept will revolve around his romantic yandere tendencies.

As much as Chef wants to be intimate with his darling he is willing to wait for it.

Chef is passionate about cooking and singing, traits he'd use to win his darling over when he falls for you.

He's also level-headed, for Chef that means he hesitates with kidnapping and murder as he knows it just isn't the right thing to do.

He's more toxic in the way of he makes you feel bad for wanting to leave him.

Even if it holds the potential to have you to himself.

Chef has been shown to not be commited so him finding a darling and wanting to stay with them is a strange feeling for him.

His past intimate relationships might actually turn you off to him which makes having his darling harder.

Chef tries to be a good guy to his darling.

Yanderes tend to be dedicated to their darlings but with Chef's past that's hard.

You're hesitant to accept his advances as doing so may have the risk of him cheating on you.

To avoid heartbreak you most likely turn him down all the time.

While Chef is patient, he gets upset at the idea of his darling not trusting him.

As a result... Chef may try to stave off the intimacy in his life.

It sounds impossible for him... but yanderes are willing to do just about anything they can for their darling.

Chef isn't sure why he likes you so much.

However... he can't deny the feelings he does hold for you.

Even when you see him try to be more dedicated you still may not be with him.

Chef then tries harder, singing love songs for you and cooking your favorite dishes.

It's sweet behavior but you still stand your ground.

"Chef... I can't be with you like this. You'll break my heart."

Chef probably calls you affectionate names like "sugar" or "sweetheart". It feels in character for him.

He calls you all sorts of sweet names yet he can't seem to sweeten you up.

At this point all he wants is one date.

Just one... so he can see how it'll work out.

Chef would try not to get angry with you or lose his temper.

He understands where your worry comes from...

He just wishes you'd trust him.

Chef doesn't really show jealousy but he would be passive-aggressive towards any date you tell him about.

Chef believes he can treat you well.

If you'd just let him.

Chef isn't too violent but he'd verbally fight with someone.

Chef may also be a persistent yandere.

He's caring and patient... although he doesn't stop looking for that date.

There's a point where you may just break and accept the date.

Which is a mistake as now it lets Chef into your life.

He's not too manipulative or possessive... but it's still there.

Chef is touchy and overly affectionate with his darling.

He's always been one for intimacy... so if you aren't someone who enjoys it then he may not be the partner for you.

Chef isn't too controlling yet he does make you second guess yourself and your decisions at times.

Chef promises and promises he'd never cheat on you.

He's a changed man!

Even if he isn't thinking of marriage or children (if you can have them)...

He knows he can't wait for you to meet his parents once he finally has you.

[catboyfever]

Tea Time - Owlbit Fluff

WHOA YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH A NEW WTP FIC

Pardon my absence as I've been committing to a lot of OC writing as of late. But I've been thinking about this ship and discussing it with others in the wtp fandom a LOT so I thought this would be as great a time as any to write a fanfic for it! I hope you enjoy, lemme know what y'all think!

The afternoon sun shone lazily on the Hundred Acre Wood. Rabbit ordinarily would’ve been outside tending to his garden in the heat of that sun, but even he had to take a break sometimes. While he could’ve been just as comfortable at home, he didn’t feel like just lounging about the house. The only person he could think of that would provide a somewhat peaceful evening was Owl. It was a no-brainer. He sometimes stopped by his house for tea anyhow, and spacing out while sipping tea and pretending to listen to some convoluted story actually sounded pretty fantastic just about now.

Rabbit was sat in his living room across from Owl with a saucer and a teacup filled with perfectly brewed tea in his hand. He’d already added his sugar, he was just listening to Owl go on about something before he took a sip. The warm, dark flavor of the black tea relaxed him… but he felt like he wanted just a little more something to flavor the drink.

“Owl, I don’t mean to bother but could you bring out some honey? I’d love some for my tea.” Rabbit said.

Owl smiled and halted his story. “Oh, of course! I’ll resume my tale once I’m back.”

Owl flew out of the living room and swooped into the kitchen to retrieve the honey. A few seconds later Rabbit heard a thundering crash and jumped to his feet to investigate before a very excited looking Owl brought back an in-tact honey jar, but more surprisingly, an accordion.

“Owl, what IS that?” Rabbit asked, pointing at the unknown instrument.

“This, my dear friend, is called an ‘accordion’” Owl said. “It’s a wonderful instrument, my relative in Italy gave it to me years ago.”

“Do you play?” Rabbit asked pointedly.

“But of course! Here,” Owl began, setting the jar of honey down for Rabbit. “enjoy your tea and the music.”

Rabbit felt excitement bubble up in his belly. He usually knew better than to get his hopes up too high about things like this with his friends, but there just seemed to be something so genuine about the way Owl spoke about the instrument. Besides, Rabbit hadn’t even known what it was called before Owl told him.

“This song I learned from my Great Great Granduncle, he used to play it while taking a leisurely boat ride.” Owl said.

Owl’s feathery hands moved across the keys on the instrument as he pushed it in and pulled in a slow, jaunty song. The unique sound that the instrument produced had Rabbit totally transfixed… as well as how oddly suave Owl looked playing it.

His hands were moving with such grace and the way his body swayed to the beat of the song just took his breath away. His eyes were moving with Owl as he swayed across the room, coming closer to Rabbit before dancing away while continuing the slow, romantic melody that Rabbit was enchanted by. When the song ended Owl bowed while Rabbit clapped fervently.

“Stupendous! Absolutely marvelous! I had no idea you were such a musician!” Rabbit said.

“But of course I am! I wasn’t only gifted with a beautiful singing voice, I’m an owl of many talents you know!” Owl said proudly.

Ordinarily Rabbit would’ve scoffed at the notion but the way Owl spoke… especially after his performance… Rabbit actually felt a sort of reverence for Owl for the first time.

“I know this might be sudden but… would you be able to teach me a few notes?” Rabbit asked.

Owl nodded enthusiastically. “Of course of course! I’d be happy to aide in someone’s quest for knowledge!!”

Owl handed Rabbit the surprisingly heavy accordion and stood behind him. Rabbit’s cheeks flushed as he felt the bird’s soft, warm hands covering his as his fingers touched the keys. Owl even helped push and pull the accordion at first, guiding Rabbit’s arms by pushing them and pulling them with his hands. Rabbit could feel the soft as a cloud feathers of Owl's crest pressing against the back of his head which distracted him greatly as he tried to concentrate on what was happening. Eventually though, Rabbit got the hang of how the instrument operated. Owl danced around the room as he had before, but this time he guided Rabbit along with him, swaying along with him as Rabbit practiced the intro to the song Owl had just played for him.

After a while the sun began to set and Rabbit reluctantly put a stop to their music lesson.

“It really is no trouble if you stay for dinner, you know.” Owl said insistently.

“I appreciate it really, but I must get back and get things ready for tomorrow. You know how it goes, the work is never done around the garden!” Rabbit said.

Owl opened the door and saw Rabbit out. Rabbit turned to Owl with a smile.

“Goodnight, Owl.”

Owl leaned forward and quickly gave a small love peck to Rabbit’s cheek. “Goodnight, Rabbit.”

Owl withdrew to his house and closed the door leaving Rabbit a flustered mess at his door. Rabbit dashed back to his house and sighed as he began to fix his supplies to make dinner. The accordion was from Italy, he was probably just saying farewell like they do! It was just his way of saying Ciao! That was what Rabbit convinced himself as he continued to fix dinner, trying desperately but failing to get the kiss out of his head.

[boysplanetrecaps]

Build Up Episode 2: 숨 (Breath)

Welcome back to another recap of MNET’s Build Up. In the last one, we covered Something Like That, and I got myself a new bias! In this one, we’ll be taking a look at The Hardest Song on the Show (along with all the other songs), 숨/ Sum / Breath. Let’s do it!

(photo: Choi Haram’s Insta Update, via Reddit)

As has become traditional on the show, the judges talk about how this is the hardest song. They say that about literally all the songs, though. Vocal Coach Guy (VCG) wonders aloud if the guys chose the song voluntarily, or if they were forced to do it because no other songs were available. No, that was mostly Every Moment of You. 

Breath was originally performed by Park Hyo Shin, who, per Wikipedia, “is a South Korean ballad singer and musical theatre actor known for his emotional vocals.” His songs have reached number one on k-pop hot 100 charts, beating established acts like A*pink. Breath came out in 2016 and hit number 1 in Korea. Here’s a cover of it by Chen from Exo, and here’s a cover of it by Jungkook from BTS, and here’s Bang Chan and Lee Know reacting to the original version. I just like covering my bases. 

It’s a sad song, but it’s a bit hard to say what it’s actually about. It seems to be about being depressed and lost and not really wanting to face reality. I’ll let you read the lyrics and decide for yourself.

The guys come up to the sound of athletic guitar music, like they’re ready to wrestle or box or something. It’s… 

LTR: Lim Junhyeok, Choi Haram, Jeong Inseong from KNK, Lee Hwanhee from Up10tion

Lim Junhyeok, the one who was a member of Day6 for about six months, introduces himself as a singer-songwriter. He was V5.

Choi Haram introduces himself as the “icon of challenge”. He’s a musical actor and was V8. 

Jeong Inseong is from KNK and seems to have a certain fanbase out there. He was V6. He introduces himself as the main vocal of KNK with a “soft charisma.”

Lee Hwanhee is from Up10tion, but you might remember him better from Boys Planet. He introduces himself as the cutie of team Breath. He smiles big, and then just a tiny bit looks like he wants to evaporate.

“Why do I keep going on these shows omg when will people just like my voice it’s a good voice I hate dancing I just want to sing oh god…” --Hwanhee, probably

The show makes a lot of their “prince-like visuals.” Are they handsome? You guys know by now that I have no idea who is or isn’t considered handsome by other people. 

Eunkwang gets right to the point and says it’s an extremely difficult song, so did anyone there choose it voluntarily? Haram, looking dapper in his pinstripes, says it was his first choice. The judges ask why.

Time for a flashback!

I’ll tell you now the order that the guys join. Inseong was in 11th place and chose it first, then Haram in 21st place chose it. Hwanhee came right after Haram, while all other options were still open, so it’s fair to say that at least those three consciously chose the song as their best option. Junhyuk was tied for 38th and had a choice of either Every Moment or Breath, and chose Breath, so it wasn’t really much of a choice for him.

We see the guys talking about how Breath is hard and wondering who would want to tackle it. But we also see the other guys asking Haram what he wants to do, and he always answers “Sum” (Breath). 

Side note: Kpop songs where you can hear the word “sum”!  It’s in the first line of Sugar Rush Ride by TXT (saenggageun got sumeul meomchweosseo), it’s at the beginning of the chorus of Mmmh by Kai (Mmmh mmmh, sumeul naeshwigo baeteo like…), and of course it’s in the first line of Breathe, performed by Lee Hi and written by Jonghyun (sumeul keuge swieobwayo). Those were just the first few songs I thought of. If you open your ears, you’ll hear “sum” a lot. 

We learn that Haram is a pianist as well as a musical actor.

Huh huh. Pianist.

Haram explains that he hasn’t engaged much in Korean music as he pursued classical music, but Park Hyoshin’s songs were his first exposure to singing. “I know it’s a really dangerous choice,” he interviews, “but I really wanted to sing the song that raised my dream on stage.”

Hwanhee takes the wrong route up to Breath and ends up going all the way around. Isn’t that just how things go for Hwanhee? He needs General Gunwook to boss him around. 

As Junhyuk arrives on the team, we get to see a little of his life. (I found a nice video on Youtube of this part, if you want to watch it. )

He says that he writes and sings his own songs, confirming my suspicion that songwriting is his true love, not singing exactly. He says that he has been releasing singles, and even teaching students at an academy. 

Pianist, Idol Main vocals, Singer-songwriter

Haram and Junhyuk take the lead on dividing harmonies almost immediately. 

Inseong asks Hwanhee, what she would do now? And Hwanhee says, “I guess… take a breath?” 

“They talked about music stuff a lot,” Hwanhee interviews. “To be honest, I don't know much about that. They were using difficult musical words so I couldn’t say anything. It was scary/” See? He needs someone to boss him around. Luckily, he has Haram and Junhyuk! 

Hwanhee tries singing his part, using a lot of vibrato, and Junhyuk confirms my good opinion of him by suggesting that Hwanhee dial back the vibrato a lot. It’ll give it a more casual, conversational feel.

Haram is so glad to have Junhyuk on his side to help, and we see a little montage of Haram working really hard. Does this mean Haram will be top tier? 

Here’s the link to the version without reactions. 

My thoughts:

This was a great performance. All four of them had voices I found myself liking a lot. Listening with my eyes closed, I was still able to pick out Hwanhee (I mean it’s pretty obvious) but I was listening to the others blindly and I found I had a positive opinion of all four voices. I don’t even want to nitpick them too much since I really thought this was all very good. I didn’t even mind the song -- I put this on my playlist. 

Haram’s voice is so full and mature, it’s almost incongruous with his youthful looks. I really like how he sings, though I’d prefer if he used a little less vibrato. There may have been moments when he was very slightly off pitch, but I couldn’t swear to it because the song’s melody isn’t super clear to me. I also would have preferred if he sang with his eyes open. But those are nitpicks. His voice is lovely.

Side note: He and Hwanhee are both wearing suits that are way too big on them.  What’s up with that, stylist unnies? Did you ask them to wear sweaters and they said no so you punished them with giant suits? 

Inseong’s voice is rich like Haram’s, but not quite as deep, and a bit smoother. I have no criticism. He also does a great job harmonizing with Hwanhee, singing in a sweet falsetto. I know I’m not saying a lot about Inseong, but it’s just because I have no notes! He did great. 

If you read my Boys Planet recaps, you know that I really like Hwanhee’s voice and always have. I think he sounds a lot like Baekhyun from Exo, and that is fully a compliment to both of them. He uses more vibrato than I would have liked here, but that’s a preference thing. I think he did great here, and I hope he won a few fans, since I feel like not many people supported him on Boys Planet. But isn’t it satisfying when it’s his turn to sing? I love his full belts. 

I wasn’t thrilled with Junhyuk in his teaser performance, but I find his story so sad and affecting that I was really rooting for him. So I was so glad to find out that the full, bright, satisfying belts I heard with my eyes closed belonged to Junhyuk. He also proved himself singing low as a counterpoint to Haram later in the song. Ok, his vocal color is a tiny bit sharp in tone (not pitch), but not unpleasantly so. He can get a tiny bit nasal, but it’s never anything “bad.” 

The harmonies were great overall, and I credit those to Junhyuk and Haram. 

I don’t know who I’d pick as my top tier, I really don’t. Every time I think I’ve decided on someone and type his name, I immediately change my mind to someone else. This was a strong team, in my opinion. 

The MNET Edit is kind, as is usual on this show. It was funny for me to hear one of my biases (Baekho) compliment another one of my biases (Hwanhee). But it seems that the judges didn’t like Junhyuk -- they were squirming around uncomfortably during his high belts. Well, I liked it, you dumb dumbs. 

Hong Seong Jun is enjoying the singing. I think. I guess?

When the song is over, everyone applauds and says they did a good job. 

VCG says that the song is hard to sing well, then tells Haram that he enjoyed his singing, for not trying to imitate the original singer too closely, but instead singing it in his own style. 

VCG goes on to say that Junhyeok was disappointing with “one thing” -- his voice was too “bare” in the chorus. He wanted to hear his “modal voice”, which I think meant his chest voice. I disagree, personally. I think having the contrast of Junhyeok’s voice was refreshing. But I guess that’s just a matter of taste. Also, since VCG said that Junhyeok was disappointing with “one thing”, the implication is that VCG must have had a lot of compliments for Junhyeok as well that we didn’t get to see. 

We don’t hear them say anything about Hwanhee or Inseong. 

The judges vote, and it’s unanimous -- they all vote for Choi Haram. 

That seems fair -- his singing was impeccable, and he also helped devise the harmonies. 

Haram pretty much can’t believe it. 

He almost looks like he’s going to pass out for a second, then says thank you and promises to keep working hard to justify his win.  

As the guys leave the stage, the judges say that they’re glad that the difficult song worked out so well. Then VCG adds, “It’s so nice to have an audition with just singing. I’m used to dancing too and this is much better.” 

Ok, my friends, I’ll post this much so that I can keep going crazy with as many screen shots as I want. Just two more songs to go! I fear I’m going to fall further and further behind… Sigh. Well, thanks for sticking with me and being patient. I’ll see you in the next one, which is going to be Decalcomanie, originally by Solar’s group Mamamoo. That should be interesting! See you then. 

Xoxo BPR Noona 

[journeydb]

October 31 2023 Barcelona

Happy Halloween! This afternoon we had a community costume party at the community center at our Illa de la Llum apartment complex. People really dressed up, kids and adults alike! There were witches, pirates, Spidermen, clowns, ghosts, pumpkins, and firefighters, as well as many other creative costumes. The committee running the party did a great job decorating and they also laid out an amazing spread of food that people had donated. I couldn't eat a single thing.

The little ones were adorable and some took it more seriously than others. I think these girls are supposed to be black cats, don't you?

Oscar and Michael's girls took their picture with me and I was impressed with their costumes. The twins, Valentina and Paula are preteens now and a lot more serious than they used to be and their "little" sister, Julieta, who is nearly as tall as Valentina, is always trying to keep up with them. Me? I'm just a kid at heart so Little Red Riding Hood seemed perfect for me.

Oh my gosh, the baby angel and toddler Batman were so cute!

I had just enough time to go home and make dinner for Bruce before the Trick or Treaters arrived. First they stopped at our neighbors' door, where the dad, Keko had rigged up a very scary light show. The kids loved it and I actually heard a few kids scream.

The kids were all so excited to Trick-or-Treat in our complex, where we usually have about fifty kids show up at the door. I had mostly small toys and trinkets for them because I don't believe in giving out lots of candy, but I also did have a few dark chocolate mini-bars without too much sugar.

As the night wore on the kids got older, so by the time we ran out of candy and toys, I turned out all the lights and wouldn't answer the door.

As Bruce and I left for the party at our friends Carla and Carlos's place, we stopped at Oscar's. I had bought a woodsman costume for Bruce and he didn't want to wear it so I gave to Oscar earlier in the day. It turned out to be pretty scary with the wolf mask he already had so we staged a photo with The Big Bad Wolf menacing Little Red Riding Hood and it turned out to be rather convincing.

By the time we arrived at Carla's place, everybody had been eating and drinking for a while and the sangria was flowing and the karaoke was loud, but we all had fun with it, even the husbands.

I'm not sure what the "stick your tongue out" move on Branka's part was all about but Mafe (Maria Fernanda) looked happy and Carla's dog looked bored.

Pepi, Fernanda, and Carla got a little carried away with the groping scene and it looked like the color scheme for the costumes was black and red, so I guess I fit in, kind of.

Araceli and Angie fit right in and Javier was dressed to save everyone's Souls, so we were in good company.

The guys usually don't like to dress up and Toni and Bruce were no exception but whoever was under the scary mask, and I think it was Carlos, didn't read the playbook.

Michele's mother, Iria, looked lovely in her Day of the Dead costume. I'm still not sure what Araceli's costume was supposed to be but the thing on her head looked like a spider.

I'm not good at karaoke, especially in Portuguese, but I did my best to sing along with everyone else. Michele was the best and had the sultry voice to be able to pull off the Latin pop and jazz songs.

If there is one mixed drink I like here it's definitely sangria and Carla makes a yummy pitcher with lots of fruit. I might have had a couple of glasses but I felt like it was more. Bruce wasn't complaining.

It was one of, if not the most fun Halloween parties I've been to in a long time but by the witching hour I was ready to call it a night while the rest of them partied on. Even the kids here stay up later than I do!

Yes, there WERE children at this party but none of them sang karaoke, to my knowledge. Iris is a pre-teen now and her devil costume was not appropriate because if there has ever been an angel child, she is it. Julia made a good witch but, apart from a few meltdowns I've heard she has had, she's a really sweet little girl, so that costume was off base. Of course, it's Halloween, so people are supposed to dress up like someone else, especially their alter ego.

I didn't know the other girl, I think she was a friend of Santiago's and I don't even think she was wearing a costume, but Santiago was his usual mischievous self. He seemed to be sans costume also, unless there was some significance to the t-shirt that I missed.

Iris has always been like Julia's big sister. Since their mothers are best friends that makes sense. They are both getting SO tall and they aren't really little kids any more, either. Iris just turned twelve in September and Julia turned nine in July. Iris is taller than I am and Julia will be by the time she turns ten next summer. It always happens that the little ones are taller than I am by the time they are ten!

[lifewiththelulus]

Look at THIS dapper dude! thank you man!

She couldn't help but believe this might be a dream. That boy, the object of her affection, the one who had already stolen her heart many times over.. somehow did it again. She knew he had a beautiful voice, angelic even, but boy what a difference some dressing up and actual music playing could do.

It was over way too soon, but at the same time not soon enough. She clapped slowly as the rest of the audience started to applaud.

She practically stumbled over her own feet walking over to him. At first she was speechless, trying to come up with something to say, anything. What was seconds felt like minutes before she finally spoke. "Hey Zil." She mentally slapped herself. That was smooth. "Y-you were.. wow" She giggled nervously and looked away, face full on blushing. She was glad for the dim lights. "Who was that song by?" She hadn't heard it before, and knew she'd wanna listen to it again, though it wouldn't be quite the same as hearing him.

The boy's face started to heat up, he had felt so powerful up on stage, like he had no trouble singing his heart out as long as he was a few feet off the ground and had a mic in his hand (Now he can feel why Willow and her sister loved doing this) but once the girl he had set this whole thing up for was in front of him, once again he began to fumble over his words. "Hehe, Thank you, and uh, well, a-actually…ahem Well your sister did most of the work."

Willow's smile was immediately replaced by an expression of pure awe. "You mean… You wrote that?" She looked down then slowly back up to meet his face once more. Damn She swallowed her nerves and pushed the hair from her face. She was going to say something else but forgot it the moment she realized- that song was about someone - a girl. She stifled the noise she wanted to make when that knife stabbed her heart, and she just kept smiling. "W-wow, whoever you wrote it for is really lucky.." She clasped her hands together and swayed in place awkwardly. "You got really into it.. maybe we can play something together sometime.." She blushed more at the idea of him being close to her.. singing love songs.. oh god she never knew she needed to see him on that stage. She didn't know if she could hide what she felt for him now- why did he have to make it so hard!?

"Y-you really think so?!" He thinks that she knows that the song was for her. "Wow… and yeah! I'd love to sing with you. I'm still not great at writing music but m-maybe we can… y'know write together?"

Some of her smaller flowers that tended to stay closed suddenly bloomed. She stared at him for a moment. "That- that would be fun." She couldn't stop blushing and looked down. She really hoped he couldn't tell how frazzled she was internally. "I'd love to do my favorite thing with my favorite person." She giggled, not having meant to say that out loud

Before Zilan could say more, two figures appeared behind her and pounced. It was her brother and sister, Charlie and Nebi. "So, you guys planning the wedding or what?"

Willow squeaked when they appeared out of nowhere. "What the- wedding?? Who's getting married???" She looked at them utterly confused. Her siblings were so weird.

Zilan, upon hearing that started to get even more flustered. "Wed-we-What, uh, m-m-maybe I should clear up the stage for the next act, be back in a few!" He waved them off, leaving Willow at the mercy of her siblings.

Willow was a bit surprised, then deflated "Oh.. ok." She watched him go then turned to her brother and sister, who were still all over her. "What is with you two? And who's getting married, seriously??" Sometimes she was a few steps behind.

Charlie: oh like you don’t know. Nebi: Yeah! Zil’s and y- They were both cut off by Aurora’s hands over there mouths.

Aurora gave them both a death glare, then smiled softly as she could at the youngest of them. "Don't mind them, I think they got into some sugar pops." She smiled and pushed the two of them back so they wouldn't jump on her again. "But uh… How'd it go with Zil?"

Willow blushed once more and shrugged. "We're gonna write together at some point it looks like.. I never knew he was such a poet." Aurora smiled and hugged her sister. "Oh that's wonderful!"

Willow hugged back. "Yeah… I just wonder who that song was about. You don't… Know, do you?" Aurora kept hugging her and made a face. "You're fucking with us right" Willow raised an eyebrow and looked at the twins for some sort of explanation

At first they thought she was joking but seeing her serious face made them want to strangle the nearest living thing in frustration. “Aurora, pleeease?” They begged to just tell her.

Aurora turned to them and made a zipping motion over her mouth with her hand.

She turned back to Willow "Maybe you should ask him- I only helped with the music."

Willow nodded and glanced at the boy who was helping Kindlin clean up.

Kindlin was smiling and seemed to say something funny because they both laughed. It made willow's heart stutter. She couldn't ask him- she might cry even though she knew it shouldn't matter to her… As long as he's happy. "Maybe."

[storytimewithnova]

Everybody’s fool

Shona miya manaager of Karasuno smart bubbly loved by all every guy wanted her every girl wanted to be her one envied her and was jealous of her except they Don't know she is a miya remember i said one was jealous that one showed up one day asking to be the new manager she acted all sugar sweet butter would melt Jezebel Kaneko is the tipcal pick me girl and when saw the way the teams were with shona she started making shit up

she managed to turn nearly everyone against shona apart from her friends her brothers and boyfriends shirabu Kenjiro and Goshiki Tsutomu They started to talk behind sho’s back shun her some went as far as getting physical she had,had enough she got on the next train to Hyōgo and when to her brothers school she even messaged her friends

In the Chaotic Bitches GC

Sho is online

Sho: guys to to let you know well for those that don't i have left Karasuno and Miyagi i am going to my brothers school

Sho: Are you okay sis

Akaashi: cousin be honest with us i can tell went you are lying

Seijirou: as can I

Sho: Guess i am caught red handed no i am not

Tetsuya: hun what did they do don’t worry I just want to talk🔪

Sho: Tetsu Ni all the did was shun me and some nasty rumours are going around about me

She didn’t tell him about the physical abuse but Sora felt something off with her reply so she questioned it

Sora: sho chan why do i feel you hiding something from us

Osamu: love what do you mean?

Omi:Angel?

Sho gave up and told them everything which made the friend group and her boyfriends extremely mad to the point kenma started singing

Kenma: 🎶some bitch made my bestfriend cry do dah do dah that said bitch is gonna die oh de do dah day doesn’t matter to me if she's just 15 that bitches final hour is naigh oh de do dah day🎶

This made everyone laugh yes they were behind their screens but they were still laughing those with siblings thought they lost it and sho she smiled for the first time in a long her brothers were happy to see that smile again

Tsukishima thought of an idea and it just maybe stupidly crazy to work he knew Sky and suna would be collecting any evidence/Info on Jezebel

That can clear all the rumors and lead back to her making them but the idea Tsukishima had was do a lyric prank Not to as well when they give the go that thet have collected everything he told this idea to the sqaud they thought it was actually a brilliant idea sky said she need another week her and suna can have it done before training camp so that is what they did

2 days before training camp all evidence was collected now they are going to humiliate a bitch in the big GC 😒

Semi: besties assemble

Everyone: present Eita and accounted for

Sora: @everyone get your sorry ass online say nothing and listen that includes the bitch

Everyone online

Kuroo: why were we summoned

Kenma: what part of button it didn't we get🔪

Kuroo: 🤐

Sora: sho now and no one talk apart from us and may you regret everything

Sho: 🎶Perfect by nature Icons of self indulgence Just what we all need More lies about a world that🎶

Kageyama: what are you talking about Boke

The friend group: 🔪

Kageyama: 🤐

Sho: 🎶Never was and never will be Have you no shame don't you see me You know you've got everybody fooled🎶

Jezebel's thoughts 💭do they know the truth shit this can't end not like this I have come so far for it to end like this

Sho: 🎶Look here she comes now Bow down and stare in wonder Oh how they love you No flaws when you're pretending But now I know she🎶

Terushima: you wish that was you, you sound kind of desperate

The siblings: talk to our sister like that again try us bitch we dare you 🔪

Everyone minus the Friends: SISTER?!

Sho: 🎶Never was and never will be You don't know how, you've betrayed me And somehow you've got everybody fooled🎶

Kyotani: who are you talking about?

Kunimi: you might be my senpai but at this moment i have no respect for you so shut it🔪

Kyotani: 🤐

Sho: @Jezebel 🎶Without the mask where will you hide Can't find yourself lost in your lies🎶

Sky sent several attachments of recordings of Jezebel making a plan with her bf shona ex to ruin shona's reputation and life they didn’t know they were messing with the wrong person

Everyone listened and watched the videos of Karasuno and other teams beating shona up on daily basis

The siblings: you messed with the wrong person bitch

Sho: 🎶I know the truth now I know who you are And I don't love you anymore🎶

She is talking about everyone involved in her misery she don't love them the way she did she don't see them as friends anymore she will not forgive them

Sho: 🎶Never was and never will be You don't know how you've betrayed me And somehow you have everybody fooled🎶

Just to do extra damage to the people involved Sora added Mr and Mrs Miya just as shona was finishing up the song

Mr and mrs miya was added to the chat

The friend group: hello mom/Anutie and hello to you dad/Uncle

Kito Miya: hello you lot and Sora why did you add us

Sora: back read uncle sho is almost finished

The Miya’s parents back read and are not happy

Sho: 🎶It never was and never will be You're not real and you can't save me Somehow now you're everybody's fool🎶

She is talking about how she puts on a fake smile a façade and how in reality she is depressed she self harms and she fears she can't be saved from herself Sho went offline that worried her boyfriends

Kenjiro: Auntie can me and Tsutomu come check on sunshine please

Hana Miya: of course dear she hasn’t left her room in days or eaten now we know why Kito dear i leave you to sort the root of the issue out and i will check on our daughter

The siblings: we're coming too Imōto you better have your room unlocked when we get there

Mrs miya offline miya siblings offline

Kito Miya: Jezebel Kaneko On behave of Sunshine and foxes corporation I hear by fire your parents not just for your behaviour but for theirs as well trying to bankeupt my company thank you suna and Sora for finding the evidence

Both siblings: you’re welcome uncle

Kito miya: i also hear by Disbanded the following volleyball club Karasuno as you were the main reason for my daughters depression

Daichi: sir with respect you can't do that

Kito miya: yes I can I was your sponsor was not now as for the other teams involved i believe you can redeem yourself and shona may forgive you in time

Nekoma fukurodani seijoh Nohebi and a few others: we would like that we are sorry for what we did to her it is unforgettable

Jezebel: TCH

Hana miya online

Hana miya: Kito we need your help Shona is Unconscious

Everyone: What?!

Jezebel: attention whore probably faking it

Atsumu: shut up slut 😒 you done enough to our sister

Jezebel: I'm the slut she has two bfs what does that make her

Sora: coming from the one that took Kageyama from her but is cheating on him with daichi and daichi is meant to be dating suga but you also cheated on daichi with kuroo man you do get around

Suga: i knew he was cheating that is why i am with Satori

Kita: baby fox you really are like your brother you maybe shy but when i comes to you friends you are everywhere aren’t you

Sora: I maybe shy but I am not afraid to put someone in the Grave 🔪

Suna: Sis your Yandere is showing

Sora: 🤷🏻‍♀️ these bitches need to know their place now we will go and check on sho @Osamu love how is she

Osamu is online

Osamu: not good hun she hasn't been eating she has cuts as well god knows what she has been doing to herself

Everyone: .....

Suna: oh you lot i silent now why you just realised you screw up how you believed some you hardly know over someone you have known for ages

Jezebel's thoughts💭 crap crap crap i am losing them think think think oh maybe i still can claw it back to my way

Jezebel: and who says they believe you and your phoney evidence it could be docker 🙄

Kito: i can confirm it is not i have had it checked by a professional so don't try it young lady

Jezebel's thoughts💭 No No No their dad never left the chat crap

Sora: aww did little miss pick me girl get found out in another lie just tell the truth we showed all the evidence so stop denying it

Jezebel's thoughts💭 what do I have left to hind they got me I'm fucked either way

Jezebel: fine i was jealous of Shona she is smart a top ranking student Everyone loves her every guy wanted to date her even these simps in the volleyball club i wanted that kind of attention i wasn't getting from my boyfriend his mind is still fixated on shona even though he cheated on her with me no less i knew i could never compete with her she had it all perfect body perfect smile perect grades perfect life so I made up rumors to ruin her reputation and her life there

Yaku: which put my twin into a depression she is now in hospital in a coma so congratulations you successfully got what you wanted with the help of these knucklehead simps

Sora: OSAMU FUCKING MIYA WHEN I ASKED YOU HOW YOU SISTER WAS YOU NEVER MENTIONED SHE WAS IN A COMA WELL MORE REASON FOR ME TO PUT THE BITCH IN HER GRAVE

Sora exited the house before suna or Sakusa could stop her and went to car a drove fast to Miyagi

Osamu: guess we got to go after her after all this is my fault i didn’t tell her sho was in a coma

Omi: Its not your fault Samu and yes we are going after right Suna

Suna: yep she will be heading to Karasuno

With sora she picked up the sqaud and now they are out for blood and they are happy to paint Karasuno's gym red the boys arrived to find Jezebel beaten up and the Karasuno Volleyball team scared

Daichi: stop

Sora: Beg me

noya:Sora please we're sorry

Sora: not good enough

Yams: Sora we are sorry you are right we shouldn't have believed someone we barely know over someone we known longer please let us redeem ourselves somehow do what you want to her

Jezebel:Yams?!

Noya: shut it bitch it's because of you we are in this mess is because of you we can't play volleyball anymore it's because of you we lost shona you are nothing but a jealous cow

A COMA IS MEANT TO LAST 3-4 MONTHS SHONA'S LASTED LONGER MAYBE SHE DIDN'T WANT TO WAKE UP OR MAYBE SHE WASN'T READY TO FACE THE WORLD YET OR THEM THE MAIN THING IS SHE IS STAYING ALIVE FOR HER SIBLINGS HER FRIENDS

AND JEZBEL MESSED WITH THE CEO'S DAUGHTER THEY THREW HER OUT AND CUT HER ALLOWENCE THEY WERE GOING TO TRY GROVELING FOR THEIR JOBS BACK WHEN THEY WERE TOLD NO BECAUSE THEY WERE CAUGHT STEALING MONEY FROM THE COMPANY AND TRYING TO BANKRUPT IT THEY GAVE UP KNOWING THEY CAN'T FIGHT THE NUMBER ONE COMPANY IN JAPAN

ALMOST A MONTH AND SHONA HAS FINALLY WOKE UP AND GOSHIKI AND SHIRABU HAD SOMETHING TO SAY ALL THEIR FRIEND GROUP WAS THEIR SORA AND SUNA FILMED IT

Kenjiro: hello our sleeping beauty me And Tsutomu have something to say so please listen okay

Shona just nodded not having the strength to talk at the moment

Semi starts playing his guitar

Kenjiro: 🎶 Heart beats fast Colors and promises How to be brave?🎶

Goshiki: 🎶 How can I love when I'm afraid to fall? But watching you stand alone All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow🎶

Kenjiro: 🎶One step closer🎶

Shiragoshi: 🎶 I have died every day waiting for you Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years I'll love you for a thousand more🎶

They are talking about how apart of them felt like it died watching shona just laying there motionless lifeless almost waiting for her to wake up to come back to them it felt like forever when she finally did wake up and how their love stayed strong even in their darkest hour

Goshiki: 🎶 Time stands still Beauty in all she is I will be brave🎶

Sho was crying even if she didn’t get what they were doing she was touched And felt their love even in her comatose state she felt their love

Kenjiro: 🎶I will not let anything take away What's standing in front of me Every breath, every hour has come to this🎶

Omi: are you crying Love

Sora: yes this is lovely my bestie deserves this after everything

Osamu: So are you Kiyo

Suna: wait you know what’s happening sis

Kei: who do you think organised it and chose the song

Hajime looked at Keiji who was also crying

Iwa: when did you start showing emotions

Akaashi: I’m not a robot Oni chan and this is our cousin asshole

Iwa: gomen gomen carry on guys

They nodded

Shiragoshi: 🎶One step closer I have died every day waiting for you Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years I'll love you for a thousand more🎶

Sho: 🎶 And all along I believed I would find you Time has brought your heart to me I have loved you for a thousand years I'll love you for a thousand more🎶

Goshiki; 🎶One step closer🎶

Sho: 🎶One step closer🎶

Shiragoshi: 🎶I have died every day waiting for you Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years I'll love you for a thousand more🎶

Sho: 🎶 And all along I believed I would find you Time has brought your heart to me I have loved you for a thousand years I'll love you for a thousand more🎶

Kenjiro: when you were in your coma we thought you were going to loss you because you flatlined a couple of times and that scared us when the doctors pulled you back and said you should be fine but there was no telling if and when you would wake up me and Tsutomu decided there and then that when you do we would ask you this

Shiragoshi: will you marry us we never want to be put in this situation again where we might loss you for good

Shona nodded tears rolled down her face her siblings and her cousins hugged them then her friend group

The people that wronged her was able to redeem themselves themselves they are on good terms but shona is more cautious around them they haven’t got her full trust as for Jezebel she disappeared some rumours say she was kidnapped while sleeping rough others say she was killed and no body was found no one knows her parents arrested for fraud stealing money and tax evasion not to mention evidence of child abuse and Neglect

As for shona she got married and had twins well what did we expect given she has twins in the her family the twin gene was going to be strong the rest of the squad also got married to the partners and had kids even Sky osamu and Sakusa sky is expecting her third child i say third because like sho she is expecting twins

Even when you faced obstacles and negative they still over came them and shown that they are stronger together

[ghostysword]

I think Wei Wuxian would be very into Santa Baby. He’d lip sync to it at Huaisang’s Strictly Ironic Christmas Party. He’d flutter his eyelashes at Lan Wangji as he struck dramatic “sexy” poses that had everyone else laughing and Lan Wangji desperately willing himself to not get a boner during a cheesy and vaguely problematic Christmas song. By the final “Hurry down the chimney tonight,” Wei Wuxian would basically be giving Lan Wangji a lap dance.

Lan Wangji would leave the party immediately afterwards, to Wei Wuxian’s well-concealed hurt.

The next day, Lan Wangji would roll up to Wei Wuxian’s apartment driving a convertible (light blue), with a ruby pendant in a little Tiffany’s box on the seat beside him.

Oh, and a ring in his pocket.

[officialcherryysodaa]

Lemon Boy - Rodrick Heffley x GN!Reader

(A/N: This is based off of the song “Lemon Boy” by Cavetown, I just felt like it really would fit with Rodrick in some situations)

Warnings: Angst, and maybe fluff¿?

There once was a bittersweet man

And they called him lemon boy

Rodrick Heffley, the fluffy haired drum player who wears eyeliner. Y/N, the nice innocent person that everyone loves and adores. They were the exact opposite of each other in every way and form.

He was growin’ in my garden

And I pulled him out by his hair

Like a weed

One day you tripped and fell onto Rodrick by accident.

“Watch where you’re going next time dollface” he said to you

“It’s not my fault I fell asshole” you said glaring at him

He went wide eyed, you weren’t as innocent as he thought.

And like weeds do he only came and grew back again

So, I figured this time I might as well let him be

After that day it seemed Rodrick followed you around like a lost puppy, he was never seen not by your side.He would flirt and annoy you all day.

“Y/N~” Rodrick whispered in a sing-songy tone

“What?” You asked with a huff

“Hi” he said with a smirk, as he was just trying to distract you

Lemon Boy and me started to get along together

I helped him plant his seeds

And we'd mow the lawn in bad weather

It's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him

So, I got myself a citrus friend

You and rodrick somehow suddenly became inseperable, going everywhere with each other, having sleepovers, going to band practice with him. Hell, everyone thought you guys were secretly dating, but nope, just best friends.

But soon his bittersweet started to rub off on me

You'd think smelling like lemon zest would be pretty neat

I found out that my friends are more of the savory type

And they weren't too keen on compromising with a nice lemon pie

Rodrick soon started to rub off on you, you started to enjoy rock music, started wearing eyeliner and more black, basically dressing like Rodrick and enjoying the same things as him, and with that came some consiquences. Your other friends started to dislike you for some reason, maybe it was because you were dressing different or wearing more makeup, but they just started to dislike you.

So Lemon Boy and me, we just gotta get along together

I helped him plant his seeds

And we'll mow the lawn in bad weather

It's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him

So, I got myself a citrus friend

When your friends ditched you Rodrick was with you the whole way, every panic attack, mental breakdown, every tear that slipped out of your eye he was there to witness. With every passing day both of you realized you had feelings for the other, that you enjoyed each other’s company and you wanted to be together.

But what if I run out of fertilizer?

What if the clouds run out of rain?

What if Lemon Boy won't grow no longer?

What if beaches dry of sugar cane?

As Rodrick started to realize his feelings for you he began to distance himself from you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or upset. This made you very upset and you started questioning everything.

Did I do something?

If I did what was it?

Did I make him uncomfortable?

No, you didn’t do anything, he didn’t ever wanna make you think that, but he did.

Oh well

The whales start to beach themselves

Tortoise shells tear away from their spines

It happens all the time, it happens all the time

You finally decided you had enough and stormed up to Rodrick in the school parking lot.

“Rodrick why have you been avoiding me, and don’t say you haven’t been because I know you have!” You scream making everyone turn their heads

“I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything like that.” He says flatly

“How would you make me uncomfortable? Tell me!” You said

“Im in love with you Y/N Y/L/N, and I didn’t wanna tell you because I was scared so I distanced myself away!” He confessed

Lemon Boy and I, we're gonna live forever

Like Snufkin and little my, we'll get around wherever

Lemon Boy and I, we're gonna live forever

Like Snufkin and little my, we'll get around wherever

“I…love you too Rodrick” You smile and smash your lips into his, it slowly turning into a heated kiss

You pull apart and Rodrick says “Does this mean we’re official?”

“I guess so” you smile

It's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him

'Cause we're the bitterest boys in town

Yeah, we're the bitterest guys around

And I got myself a citrus friend

You guys would go on to get married, but that’s for later, for now you guys were happy right where you were.

[snackhobi]

this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested.  It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose  at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.) 

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.) 

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist. 

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle. 

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.) 

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back. 

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power. 

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it. 

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

 “Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall. 

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered. 

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond. 

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it. 

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron. 

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi. 

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner.  There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.  

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway. 

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out. 

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot. 

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire. 

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway. 

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary. 

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. 

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting. 

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you. 

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else. 

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it. 

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright. 

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you. 

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.) 

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung. 

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth. 

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to. 

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up. 

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say. 

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really. 

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists. 

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.” 

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor. 

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn. 

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed. 

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad. 

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee. 

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is. 

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

 “Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say. 

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all. 

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice. 

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity. 

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think. 

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand. 

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?” 

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say. 

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove

[flyingraijin]

MHA Boys in a Band!AU

Ft. Bakugou, Kirishima, Denki, Sero

Warnings: Swearing, my pure undiluted simp thoughts

Note: Yes, this is a Bakusquad specific post. And yes, this is a preface to a series I'm writing. Enjoy :)

Katsuki Bakugou 

So we all know he's the drummer.

Nothing else needs to be said. 

In addition, however, I also think he sings.

Sometimes.

Like veeeeeery rarely.

He's actually got an amazing voice that's great for alt rock (which is what I feel this band would generally produce).

But he'll only do it if he's really feeling it.

So it's like a huge treat for the fans when it happens. 

I think he can also play guitar as well.

But he finds it boring, which is why he sticks to drums when they're actually producing / performing.

In terms of appearance, I think he looks much the same as in high school.

His hair is as spiky as ever.

He's just a hell of a lot taller.

Not as tall as Kirishima.

But still tall. 

And muscly (come on, we've all seen him, that boy is ripped).

He probably has tattoos.

Not a huge amount but a quite a few.

All on his arms.

Also, piercings. 

Might I add that his staple piece is his smudged eyeliner?

Definitely likes to twirl his drum sticks literally every second of the day .

He's almost knocked Denki out a few times. 

(It was done on purpose) 

If you were dating him, he’d keep you away from the public. 

He’s definitely someone people simp over and he knows if his fans found out about you, there’s a chance they would attack you online.

He’s not even willing to take that chance - nothing and no one upsets you on his watch .

Because of this, you have to fight him in order for him to let you come to his concerts. 

He pretends not to want you there but every time he’s on stage, he finds himself searching for you in the crowd.

Behind closed doors, though, y’all are constantly on top of each other. 

Bakugou doesn’t mind having you all over him when he’s around his band-mates. 

It’s almost a possessive thing for him - having you draped across his lap while they practice makes him feel like he’s proclaiming to the world that you two are together.

He has straight up told his friends that if they even dare to look at you in the wrong way, he won’t hesitate to snaps some necks.

He’s just completely head over heels for you, even if he’s not the best at showing it.

His song: sugar honey ice & tea - Bring Me The Horizon 

Eijirou Kirishima 

He's the lead vocalist of the group. 

He'll also play electric guitar when the situation calls for it.

Can I just saying his singing voice is magical??? 

He also writes the songs, usually with Sero but sometimes he'll work on his own .

In terms of appearance, he's probably the most intimidating. 

He grew. 

Like, grew. 

He's huge now.

Not to mention, like Bakugou, this man is ripped.

I also think he grew his hair out.

Not long enough to be a full pony tail but he does like a lil’ half up, half down situation. 

Also known as The 'Eren Jaeger'.

I also think he has full sleeves of tats.

Plus a huge one across the back of his shoulders.

Idk for some reason I feel like he also wears a lot of string bracelets??? 

He's just one of those guys that had the nicest hands. 

He wears rings .

Many. 

I also feel like he'll have his nails painted black always. 

He's the kind of guy that looks like how Chase Atlantic sounds.

If you two are dating, he’s gonna be the silent but constant type. 

He’s not gonna flaunt your relationship to the public but he gives enough that his fans know he’s taken. 

He isn’t the kind of guy who likes a huge amount of attention in the first place - honestly, seeing his fans idolised him as a sex symbol before you two got together made him pretty uncomfortable. 

He also doesn’t want you to feel jealous or like there is even the slightest chance that he’s gonna leave you .

When I tell you this man is whipped.

You two have matching silver chain necklaces that he’ll proudly wear on stage. 

He’s written soooo many songs about you, lemme tell you. 

It’s like a game in the fandom to find lyrics that reference specific instances in your relationship. 

You would tell him to chill but the songs are all so freaking beautiful you just can’t.

He’s always asking you to read lyrics he’s written to make sure they’re not “shitty or unmanly”

You’re basically the band’s official editor at this point - honestly, they should just pay you to read their music.

His Song: Softcore - the Neighbourhood 

Denki Kaminari

Okay but this man embodies alternative rock. 

He's got full ears of piercing. 

Snake bites.

Eyebrow piercings.

Everything .

I also think he wears the most make up. 

He'll do a full smokey eye. 

And it looks damn good. 

He also has a leather jacket that he wears everywhere.

Like, he and his leather jacket are never apart. 

He's married to it.

It's probably a huge meme with his fans at this point.

He plays electric guitar. 

I also think he can play the keyboard, so if they ever need to add a little spice to their music, he'll whip out his piano skills. 

He's the shortest of the four.

His hair has also grown out a bit so he'll put it back into a ponytail to keep it out of his face.

Otherwise, and I don't know why I have this very specific image in my brain, but I feel like he's does the messy, slicked back look. 

Think Alex Turner at the Grammys. 

Honestly, I think he probably has the best fashion sense. 

Not that any of the others are bad - this man just knows how to dress (besides the leather jacket ofc).

I also do think he's worn platform's on stage before. 

(He was lowkey salty about how tall all the other guys were) 

Unlike Kiri and Bakugou, if you were dating Denki he would absolutely show you off. 

I’m talking instagram photos, tweets, dedicating songs to you at concerts, everything. 

He’s never disrespectful about it though, let me clarify that .

He’ll go only as far as you’re comfortable with. 

Thankfully for the most part, his fans are so supportive of your relationship. 

They can see how happy you make Denki, and how happy he makes you.

You’re one of those couples where people simp for both of you. 

One time, for your anniversary, y’all did a professional photoshoot and basically broke the entire internet.

The amount of edits came come from those photos was unreal.

His Song: Electronic Lover - Breathe Electric

Hanta Sero

I'm just putting it out here. 

Sero has THE mullet. 

Fuck this man is good looking .

He's the bassist of the group. 

But I honestly feel like he can do a bit of everything. 

He wears bandanas. 

I also think he wears a lot of loose, open collared shirts. 

This man has god tier collarbones. 

He wears dog tags. 

He also has tattoos - a lot of little ones along his hands and collarbones. 

Crop tops are a regular part of his wardrobe.

He absolutely wears the most rings out of the four. 

He also has new nails basically every week. 

I feel like he doesn't a wear a lot of makeup but when he does, it's always a very specific aesthetic and it is perfect. 

Like, picture Euphoria-style glitter, eyeliner eyeshadow - that’s what Sero does. 

I also firmly believe that the second this man gains any kind of following on any sort of social media, he just instigates absolute chaos. 

He goes live a lot and reads hate comments. 

And then responds by just roasting the living shit out of anyone who insulted him. 

He is also the kind of guy who, when he sees people photographing him in public, will pull the most hideous faces or will just blatantly flip them off.

He's definitely the most chill of the group though. 

I feel like he engages the most with his fans. 

Like reposting fanart, replying to comments and tweets, going live to chat with people, the whole shebang. 

Of course, all the boys do it, but Sero does it the most. 

He's also streams on twitch and plays video games, you can't change my mind. 

If you were dating him, you two would be the kind of couple that no one could imagine not being together. 

You two are just. so. cute. 

Probably the most homey couple - you two act like normal people, as if Sero wasn’t an internationally famous musician. 

Your relationship is so natural - you’re not insanely lovey-dovey or anything but it’s so obvious you’re both completely head over heels, 

You two are probably also the biggest trolls on the internet. 

Think Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively. 

You two are constantly roasting each other on twitter while literally sitting in the same room. 

There are also soooooo many memes of photos of you. 

You probably made most of them 

Whenever Sero goes live, his fans are always clamouring to see you. 

He likes to joke that people probably simp more for you than they do for him. 

His Song: Heat Waves - Glass Animals

[guqin-and-flute]

Episode 73: Koala Chlamydia Is A Problem [My Brothers, My Sister and Me Excerpt]

[MBMSAM AU] [First Installment] [Podfics!] [Ao3 Link]

[COVER ART BY THE FANTASTIC LITTLESMARTART]

Jin Zixuan: Do we want another question?

Qin Su: Sure, yeah, got one right here. 'When I was younger, I was really skinny and weak'--hey! Hey, now, negative body talk, much! That's super judgmental of yourself!

Mo Xuanyu: And of us people who are skinny and weak right now! [teasing] Right, Yao-gege?

Meng Yao: [calmly] I'm not affiliated with you.

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [cackles]

Qin Su: 'When I was a kid, I was really skinny and weak, so I made it my mission to get as jacked as possible so people would take me seriously. I put in a lot of hard work, changed my exercise routine and diet and it worked. But now, as an adult I'm a 6 foot 7 dude--'

Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] 6 foot 7 ?

Qin Su: Just a mountain of a man. '--6 foot 7 dude with serious muscle mass--'

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [sotto voce] Good God .

Qin Su: '-- and a pretty intense resting face. I routinely make children cry just by existing and everyone shoots me nervous looks in the grocery store. It gets to me sometimes. I’m not a bad guy! I just look scary. What are some ways that I can make myself less intimidating?’

Mo Xuanyu: Huh.

Qin Su: I mean, let’s see...puppies are unintimidating. Can you devise a system where you carry a few around with you at all times? Maybe in some saddle bags, everywhere you go?

Mo Xuanyu: The movies, the gym, on dates… .

Jin Zixuan: Sure, until they start pissing down your legs. Then you’re not just unintimidating, you’re the guy no one wants to stand next to at the bus stop.

Meng Yao: I mean, it still does the job, doesn’t it?

Mo Xuanyu: You could get a butterfly tattoo, like, directly on your forehead.

Meng Yao: Okay, please explain to me your thought process on how exactly that would make anyone more approachable.

Qin Su: They still want to be able to navigate human society, A-Yu.

Mo Xuanyu: Ew, why? 

Jin Zixuan: Let’s see...what makes someone approachable….Who is the least intimidating of all of us?

Qin Su: [immediately] You.

Meng Yao: [affirming] Mm.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] What?

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Oh yeah, you’re like...you’re like a poodle. Or a--

Jin Zixuan: [highly offended] Excuse me! I'm the oldest and definitely the tallest one here!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [ill concealed snort]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [pityingly] Oh, da- ge .

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Or a golden retriever.

Qin Su: Please don't tell me you think that being tall translates into you actually being scary. You’re tallest by, like, 3 inches. At most, that’s just part of the equation of being scary.

Meng Yao: And the rest of Zixuan’s equation is just filled with collared polo shirts. Which absolutely tanks the intimidation ratio.

Mo Xuanyu: That doesn't tank yours, though.

Meng Yao: I wear button downs. It’s not the same. [Vaguely disgusted undertone] Collared polos.

Jin Zixuan: Excuse you, polos are weekend wear and there is nothing wrong-- I can be intimidating!

Qin Su: [doubtfully] Ehhhhh…

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [badly stifled snickers]

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: I can! Just because I’ve never had to intimidate you --

Qin Su: Let's just say; citation needed

Mo Xuanyu: Please, jiejie has you beat.

Jin Zixuan: [indignant] Wha--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: He's right, gege; an unopened jar of mayonnaise has you beat. And I'm no unopened jar of mayonnaise. 

Mo Xuanyu: That shit is opened .

Meng Yao: That’s a Tinder profile quote.

Qin Su: What? 'Spicier than mayo?'

Mo Xuanyu: [half singing, half chanting] ‘My mayo brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like-- [normal voice] this is really underwhelming.’

Meng Yao: [musing] ‘Saltier than soy sauce, spicier than mayo….’

Qin Su: Why do we always come back to food? Are our Skype calls haunted by starving Victorian ghost children? Are we possessed?

Mo Xuanyu: [mournful, high pitched, bad British accent] ‘My name is Bartholemew and I’m starving. Please, spare some mayo.’

Meng Yao: It’s your own fault if none of you bother to eat before we record. You all had the schedule.

Mo Xuanyu: [crunches loudly near mic]

Meng Yao: [falsely happy] Hey, thanks! Thank you so much, A-Yu, love the level spike on that one. Editing mouth noises out of our podcast makes my day brighter.

Jin Zixuan: [under his breath] Just...unbelievable….You all….

Qin Su: [smiling] I think we broke him.

Meng Yao: [laughing] Zixuan is limping behind the conversation indignantly, brandishing his cane….

Mo Xuanyu: [sympathetically] Awww.

Jin Zixuan: I--! I am a high powered businessman! I am trained in martial arts and archery and swordsmanship --

Mo Xuanyu: [mouth full] Oh please, gege, you’re a pod caster.

Jin Zixuan: [forcefully] I am a CEO--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [ignoring him] I think Yao-gege is somehow the most and least intimidating out of all of us at the same time, if we're all being completely honest with ourselves and our place in the world.

Mo Xuanyu: Aww, I thought I was at least a contender!

Qin Su: Honey, you're feral. There's a difference.

Mo Xuanyu: What does a kid have to do around here to be intimidating?

Meng Yao: Learn how to chew with your mouth closed, for one.

Jin Zixuan: [indignantly] A-Yao? Are you not going to deny this?

[Brief silence]

Meng Yao: [calmly] I don't think I'm scary.

Qin Su & Mo Xuanyu: [instant uproarious laughter]

Jin Zixuan: Oh, come on! He's like...a little koala bear or something! How is that scary!

Meng Yao: [offended] Excuse me--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [still laughing] I’m gonna pee --

Meng Yao: -- koalas have smooth brains and eat poisonous leaves all day. Are you calling me a poisonous idiot bear?

Qin Su: [wheezes] Only in private.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughter trailing off] Wait, wait, hold on. Don’t all koalas have chlamydia or something?

Qin Su: [renewed laughter]

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [startled laugh] What?

Mo Xuanyu: Chlamydia! I think that I read--!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god, I think I’ve actually heard that. The plague, the bubonic plague, isn’t it? Or that--Some sort of--that disease people used to get where bits of you fall off?

Qin Su: Beheadings?

Meng Yao: [voice strangled from laughter] Yes, A-Su, that ancient disease the French Revolution that all koalas have--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [snickering]

Mo Xuanyu: [loud and close to mic] LEPROSY .

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Ow--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Holy shit--

Mo Xuanyu: It’s leprosy and you’re thinking of armadillos, da-ge. 

Jin Zixuan: [muttering] Aren’t we all….

Qin Su: [solemnly]  Armadillos and guillotines. Every damn minute of every damn day.

Mo Xuanyu: And I googled it, I’m right; koala chlamydia is a problem.

Meng Yao: And we’ve just found the title of this episode.

Qin Su: If most koalas have chlamydia, I feel like they have other problems they have to deal with.

Mo Xuanyu: Those pesky, promiscuous koalas!

Qin Su: Get them some damn sex ed! Use those eucalyptus leaves for protection!

Meng Yao: [pleasantly] That’s just about the worst thing I’ve heard all day.

Mo Xuanyu: Eugh, that menthol, though. Like Vicks for your dicks!

Meng Yao: I hate it.

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: [pained] PSA: don’t do that. Ever.

Qin Su: The voice of experience?

Jin Zixuan: I don’t think you actually want an answer to that, meimei.

Meng Yao: You people make me hate learning and also knowing things.

Mo Xuanyu: Also I've been looking it up and mountain lions are the ones that can have the bubonic plague.

Meng Yao: Choose your fighter; chlamydia ridden koala, leprosy ridden armadillo, or mountain lion with the Black Death.

Qin Su: Well, at least the mountain lion could inflict some damage. Use it like a poison delivery system, like an anthrax letter to secretly infect people.

Meng Yao: [patient teacher tone] ‘A mountain lion is to an anthrax letter, like a koala is to a…?’

Qin Su: [mock frustration] Oh, man, I know this one….

Mo Xuanyu: 'I can't come into school today, I got attacked by a mountain lion.'

Qin Su: [acting concerned] 'Oh my God, are you okay? Are you gonna have scars?'

Mo Xuanyu: 'Worse. The Plague .'

Jin Zixuan:  Okay, glad we got our animal infections all sorted out--back to what we were talking about. So, riddle me this--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [delighted, Riddlemancer voice] Rrrriddle Me Piss, kids--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao & Qin Su: NO!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god --

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] I don't actually have anything today--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: A blessing .

Mo Xuanyu: --but I'll get you next time.

Jin Zixuan: No, I need to know, genuinely, this is not a bit-- why do you think A-Yao scarier than me?

Qin Su: I mean, what's not scary about a smooth brained bear full of toxins and chlamydia?

Meng Yao: [disgruntled] Uh huh.

Mo Xuanyu: Technically, they’re not bears, they're marsupials! And I think Yao-gege is more of an armadillo--hard on the outside--

[slight crosstalk] Qin Su: --And full of leprosy on the inside. 

Meng Yao: [further from mic, keyboard tapping] 'And to Mo Xuanyu...and Qin Su...I leave... absolutely nothing, except...this bag of dog shit and...spiders…..'

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Awww, A-Yu, we're being written out of his will again!

Jin Zixuan: Listeners, am I wrong? Am I crazy? He’s the size of a toddler--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still away from mic, keyboard tapping] ‘And to Jin Zixuan...I leave--’

Jin Zixuan: He looks like a sugar glider baby that got turned into a human man--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘This box...of useless...tetanus filled screws….’

Qin Su: Da-ge--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘--that i...encourage him to use…--’

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [snickering]

Meng Yao: ‘As acupuncture needles.’ There. Sent to the notary. Now, what were we talking about, again?

Qin Su: Da-ge, all those things might be true--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [flatly] Wow.

Qin Su: But here’s a test. What would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Jin Zixuan: [immediate, sounding businesslike and slightly aggressive] I would contact their parents and set up a meeting with the school officials and make it very clear that they are never to do that again.

Qin Su: [grinning] Okay. Yao-gege, what would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Meng Yao: [calmly] Absolutely nothing you could prove in a court of law.

Mo Xuanyu: [bursts out laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: I mean--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Uhhhh--

Qin Su: You see? Also-- [quick sing-song voice] 🎵 This is a joke, for legal reasons, this is a joke 🎵 [normal voice] He’s got that--that--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [lingering laughter] Yeah, it's that menace. Da-ge, you’re like--you’re like if a duckling--okay, you remember when I brought you to Hot Topic? You were like a duckling at a Death Metal concert.

Jin Zixuan: [defensively] The music was so loud--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [pityingly] Oh, Zixuan.

Qin Su: You're like if a golf course got turned into a human. 

Meng Yao You're what would happen if you gave mac and cheese a social security card and keys to a lamborghini.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Okay.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] You're the lightly salted almonds of people. 

Qin Su: You're like a wholesome Hallmark movie fucked the concept of the suburbs.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Sure. Sure.

Meng Yao: You emanate the peril of a box of lethargic kittens.

Jin Zixuan: Wow. My own family. This is coming from the physical manifestation of a My Chemical Romance song--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [smug] You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan: -- and the woman who cries at the Land Before Time every time she watches it. I think this is a case of glass houses, here. Let ye who are intimidating... 

Qin Su: Oh, so we’re not roasting Yao-gege back?

Meng Yao: Not sure how me being compared to a STD riddled marsupial for about 5 minutes straight escaped your notice, A-Su, but alright. 

Jin Zixuan: I feel that you are all being...heinously short sighted, here. Are you seriously trying to tell me that A-Yu is scarier than me, a full grown man?

Meng Yao: I would certainly be more warranted in my concern about him stabbing me than I would about you.

Mo Xuanyu: Oh my God, gege, that was like 5 years ago and I already said I was sorry--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [loudly] What--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Did we actually help this person? I mean--

Mo Xuanyu: We always help, jiejie.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Hold on--

Qin Su: We learned a lot about exactly how disturbing the animal kingdom is, but….

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: No, go back--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: Dress like a middle aged accountant, share minion memes on Facebook, and buy your son a puppy so you have an excuse to talk to the dog and not people. There you go. Done.

Jin Zixuan: No, rewind--Xuanyu, you stabbed our brother? 

[brief silence]

Qin Su: [brightly] Well, that's going to do it for us today, folks--!

Jin Zixuan: A-Yu!

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: It was only a little!

Jin Zixuan: How can you stab someone a little ?! 

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Thank you so much for listening in this week--

Jin Zixuan: With what ? Why?!

Mo Xuanyu: It honestly wasn’t that bad, he made it sound like--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: That's not an answer --

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [begins laughing]

Jin Zixuan: A-Yao--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still laughing]

Qin Su: [brightly]  We hope you enjoyed our enlightening romp, here! We want to thank Sister Sledge for the use of the song We Are Family. A-Yu, how about that last Yahoo?

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [farther from mic, clearly grinning] Ohhh, boy. 

Mo Xuanyu: Okay, okay--anonymous Yahoo Answers user asks….[exaggerated, desperate voice] ‘I can’t afford a freezer. Where do I put my deer meat?’

[Outro music begins quietly]

Qin Su: [laughs] I’m Qin Su.

Jin Zixuan: [sighs, disgruntled] I’m Jin Zixuan.

Meng Yao: [grinning] I’m Meng Yao.

Mo Xuanyu: [sheepish] I’m Mo Xuanyu.

Qin Su: And this has been My Brothers, My Sister, And Me! Thank you to everyone, see you next week and remember; send your trash dad straight to jail!

[kaijime]

lights down low

pt. 2

includes. kuroo tetsurou, bokuto koutarou, tendou satori, sugawara koushi, tsukishima kei, tanaka ryunosuke, oikawa tooru, ushijima wakatoshi, nishinoya yuu.

cw. fem reader, phone sex, masturbation, fingering, toys (vibrator, dildo), slight dom, squirting

a/n. Ok I’m really really sorry about this, I had an ask in my inbox and I think I accidentally deleted it or something, I don’t know what happened. its just not there but I’m gonna answer it anyways.Basically the ask was about making a fic out of this video, go watch it for a little bit of context (it is a little nsfw, you have been warned)

After that disastrous prank from the boys, you were left hot and needy. You gather your things from the couch, where previously there was a calm ambient of doing homework, now it was just an uncomfortable place because you were sweating buckets. On the way to your bed you left your notebooks and pencils on the desk and lay down on the bed. 

Looking back at those pictures, your imagination was left to run. What could those jim shorts be hiding? The thoughts of them around you, making you feel good in all the ways possible, made your mind wander-- and your hand too.

Sneaking a hand into your cute lacy panties, you imagine its someone else’s hand, any other hand but yours. Your finger touches your clit, rubbing small, light circles around it in a teasing motion.

“H-hah- I...” your hand quickly covers your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself. You take off the damp fabric from your heat, lifting your legs to slide it off and throw it into some unknown corner of the room. The room grows hot, as well as your insides, it know has a lust-like vibe. Your body sits straight taking off your shirt and bra, massaging your breast with your left hand while rubbing yourself with the other one.

A few minutes of this made you bored, reaching for the bottom drawer of your bedside table where you hid all the good things. Your breath hitched at the sigh of the familiar toys, the blue dildo and the small bullet vibrator. Taking your previous place on the bed you turn on the small vibrator on the lightest setting and rub it over your nipples, teasing them and leaving breathy moans to slip out of your mouth.

The feeling of the vibrating bullet on your sensitive nub made you go crazy, thinking about how good it would feel to have one of those sexy boys tease them while filling all of your holes. You dragged it through your entire body, from your upper stomach to where you needed it the most.

You were lost in the pleasure, very lost in the pleasure. Still, you could never be lost enough to ignore the ringing of your phone. Your body jumped involuntarily at the scare, scrambling to find the source of the annoying sound that interrupted your session. That’s when you saw it.

Video call from the group chat.

Not just any group chat, the one with all the men you were just fantasizing about. Fuck. There’s no way you couldn’t join, they would think something is wrong with you, when really you’re just trying to get off. You throw on the shirt you had previously discarded.

“Hey hey hey! (Y/n)~ How are you feeling?~” Bokuto’s teasing, sing-song voice welcomed you into the call after you hit the green button on the screen. Even if the group chat was a big one, a few of them weren’t in the call. The ones who usually went to bed early were gone, so that means Kageyama, Akaashi and Asahi were not in the group call. Memories of the prank made you gush, your slick dripping onto your ass and eventually to the sheets, since you didn’t have enough time to throw on some panties, but that’s fine. It’s not like you’re gonna show them anything.

“I’m feeling good y’know, after being harassed with such lewd pictures I’m feeling just peachy!” the sarcastic tone really evident in your voice. A few of them laughed, some remained silent. You didn’t care, you  just wanted the call to be over so you could resume your previous actions. Then Kuroo spoke.

“Yeah here’s the thing (Y/n), if you weren’t reading the chat” which of course you were not, you were too busy trying to relieve the heat these boys had caused you. “We were actually gonna ask you if you could maybe send us something like that?”

“Wh-what?”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but if you did we would never send those pictures to anyone else” The thought of them, wanting to see you in a picture as provocative as theirs made you blush. Your face turned red at the thought, it all felt too good to be true...like a prank.

“Alright... very funny, yeah right” but the boys could not understand what you were saying, they genuinely meant what they said, so they were taken aback that you wouldn’t believe them. Then Tsukishima chipped in on the awkward silence.

“Does it look like were ki-”

“What’s that?” you heard Tendou question. That’s when you looked to your right and saw the dildo, in all its glory, completely visible to the camera. All this time you’ve been talking while all the boys could see the toy you used- or were planning on using.

You quickly cover it with your sheets and cover your own face with your other hand to hide your growing blush and the tears on the corner of your eyes, for one more embarrassing moment with these boys and you would snap.

“How lewd (Y/n)” Nishinoya spoke, his teasing tone not helping you at all.

“Hey come on guys, stop it” said Sugawara. And then there was an awkward silence once more, honestly, it would’ve been better to be endlessly teased than to be in the thoughts of everyone. You could tell they were all silently judging you by the way they stared at the camera. That’s when you broke down, not full on sobbing, just a few tears that trickled down your cheeks.

“Whoa, hey-- sweetie, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing its jut that I feel so bad, I was about to touch myself thinking about all those pictures you guys sent me a-”

“Wha- wait a second, you were going to touch yourself thinking about our pictures?” Tanaka asked, though you couldn’t tell if he was going to be judgy about it or if he genuinely had curiosity. “As in... put that thing inside yourself thinking about us?”

The nod of your head makes the whole group crazy. Just thinking about you, shoving that toy into your heat with your thoughts fixated on them, that made most of them hard, except for Ushi. He simply cleared his throat and said:

“Can you show us?”

“WHAT?!”

“If you feel uncomfortable doing it then don’t but I think everyone here is hard and we could all use the relief, including you soo...”. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. These men, some of them older than you, even, wanted to see you masturbate.

“Are you sure this isn’t a prank?”

“It’s not a prank (Y/n), we all want to see the same thing so if you feel like doing it, whenever you’re ready would be a good place to start” added Oikawa. You swallowed the saliva that had gathered up on your mouth, by this time, the sheets beneath you were soaked in your essence. Someone looking at this from an outside point of view might have described it as peer pressure, but when you set the camera on the end of your bed and spread your legs to show them how hot and bothered they had made your cute little cunny, well, you didn’t feel pressured at all. In fact it all felt so normal, as if this was something normal friends did.

“Oh my god” “Soo hot” “Spread them wide baby” and other praises could be heard from the phone. All the different voices worshiping you and ordering you around made you feel somewhat safe, like you had lost a bit of your control, but you had given it to the right people.

It should be noted that at this time everyone was hard, including Ushijima. You took off your shirt again and a few cheers from Tanaka and Nishinoya were heard. You then did what you would normally do in a horny night, except of course, with the exception that there was a phone with nine friends in front of you. 

“Touch yourself for daddy”

“Uh-huh, I’ll be a good girl for you daddy” pushing your fingers into your hole. “Your cocks are all so pretty” moaning at the sight of they’re long members on the camera, as they used their hands to relieve the hardness.

“You’re being so good for us sugar, put in another finger” Sugawara’s orders made you clench around your small finger, reminding you that it wouldn’t  be enough to satisfy you. A loud moan slips past your lips as you enter another finger into your wet heat. “Good girl, now put the vibrator to your clit, darling”

Doing as you’re told you moan at the sight of all of them jerking off to your sweating figure. Tanaka and Kuroo were in the same position as you were, sitting on your bed with their legs spread to get better access to their cocks, Ushijima, Bokuto and Tsukishima appeared to have their cameras right in front of their dicks, just so that you could get a good close look on how their hands were working on themselves. The rest of them were in different positions that you couldn’t make out because you drifted your gaze to the ceiling, searching for something to help you, to save you from the immense pleasure you were having. 

The little bullet making you shiver in ecstasy. The way your fingers couldn’t reach that special spot inside yourself made you feel sexually frustrated, but you kept fingering yourself, for the sake of all the hot men who were panting and moaning like crazy in front of you. Even if you couldn’t do exactly what you wanted to, you were feeling very good, and you were so close to your orgasm.

“Pull out your fingers and put in the toy” Nishinoya ordered. For a small boy he had some big balls, (metaphorically)

“But daddy! I-I’m sooo close...daddyyyyy”  And you came, your sweet juices seeping out of you as you rubbed yourself with your fingers to gather a bit of your slick. You take that same hand to your mouth, licking all the creamy substance off.

“Ugh, baby” and they moaned out lots of different nicknames, all of them making you clench around the emptiness in your hole. You grab the dildo once again from under the sheets and tease yourself with the tip at your entrance looking into the camera to give the group a good show. Keeping your eyes fixated on the camera you shove the toy into your abused hole. When you feel it reach your pelvis. 

“Daddy, y-...y-you’re so deep inside me-... h-hah” the pace you set is slow, as you realize, too slow, even for you. “Its so big d-daddy!”

“Shut up and take it like a good slut” Tsukishima exclaims, which makes you go harder and deeper into your cunt. You lift your head from where it was buried in the pillows and look at your pussy, the way its taking the big toy makes you clench around it, making it harder to pull it out and push it inside.

“(Y/n)- p-please keep going, I-I’m gonna cum” 

“I-I’m not-... I can’t-t stop” you say pushing the toy further inside and hitting your g-spot. The volume of your moans increases with each hit to that special spot inside you. “I’m go-...a-ah-ah! Daddy I’m cumming” 

“Cum, make a mess l-like the good girl you are d-darling” Suga said in between all his moans. Your insides threw out the blue toy and started spraying your clear essence. You take a hand to your clit to make it last longer. Gushing all over the place, on the bed sheets and even on the phone, which of course only brought the men closer to their climaxes as well. By the time you were finished and taking in what just happened, all of them had released and were just panting in the afterglow of their orgasms.

“Wow” “That was so hot” and other commentaries where made by them.

“We should do this more often”

©️ kaijime 2021 | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[ktheist]

girls like you [don’t] run ‘round with guys like me | m

characters. popular!reader x shy!jimin

genre. college au. rich kids au. fwb au. eventual ceo au. eventual racer au.

words. 4k

warnings. 18+

note. this is a repost. tumblr messed up my exposure last time. this fic didn’t show up in search and it’s probably a third post of mine that ends up like this. this one probably won’t either but posting bc someone might see it and like it.

x

It’s easy to tell when Park Jimin is in love.

Unlike Kim Seokjin, his eccentric, dad joke-loving friend, Jimin would only wear the pastel pink when he’s feeling giggly and shy and mushy inside.

The source of said feelings being either the barista he goes to get his daily dose of coffee from, or the girl at the library he studies at during finals or well, right now it’s the girl he’s fucking almost every day of the week - you.

“What are you doing?” Seokjin looks at him like he just dumped a spoonful of salt in a broth that needs a little, teensy bit of sugar.

Or his face seems to say that as he goes on, “she’s a mean girl. She’s mean.”

Jimin isn’t sure if Seokjin’s aware that he’s just repeated the same thing twice.

“She calls you Chim!” The older man reiterates.

“Yeah, it’s…” Jimin trails off, the heartwarming image of you cuddling into him after yet another mindblowing sex, flashing at the back of his mind, “...her pet name for me.”

“Sounds to me like she can’t remember your actual name,” Min Yoongi interjects from the couch he’s claimed for himself ever since they got to their usual hangout.

It’s a penthouse Jimin’s parents bought him on his 18th birthday. Him and the boys would hang around there after they’re done with classes or just need a place to crash whenever they have problems with their girlfriends or boyfriends or parents or any sort of problem that renders their usual room not sleepable.

“I think we can just agree we have different wants,” Jeongguk - or the sanest of them all, as Jimin likes to call him - chirps in, taking a bite of the apple he got from the fridge.

“Exactly,” Jimin throws his hands up as if freed from his elder friends’ judge-filled eyes. The vibration of his phone in his lap gives him even more comfort to know that he finally has an excuse to slip away - he checks his phone, your name flashing in the bubble that says ‘hey, wyd?’

“I have to go, it’s ___.”

A series of groans and hollers equally erupts from the men in the room at the realization of what Jimin’s ‘having to go’ means.

And so it goes. Jimin finds himself under your blanket that smells like fresh laundry - it’s a nude green color compared to the pleated black and white from last time. Your head is on his chest and he’s caressing your hair like it’s the softest thing he’s ever laid his hands on.

Besides your boobs, that is.

“I was thinking… since we have Monday off… maybe we could-”

It’s the way you push yourself off him, eyes that are onto him gazing straight into his soul, “oh shoot, Monday’s a public holiday. I totally forgot! I have to meet my parents. My dad’s been nagging me to come back since I skipped Christmas and New Year.”

And there goes his chance to ask you out on a date.

“Oh yeah, what were you saying about Monday?”

Jimin wears the biggest fake smile he can muster, “just that… me and the boys are gonna hang out and we’re bringing our girlfriends and boyfriends and uh- doesn’t have to be someone you’re exclusively seeing,” he almost chokes at the almost-admittance that he has the fattest crush on you and wants to make it official by inviting you to a couple’s-only hang out, “but like, I don’t think I’m going, it’s boring anyway.”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying to play it cool.

You make a cooing sound, eyebrows knitting together as your lips pout cutely before a playful smile blooms on your face, “I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?” Jimin thinks he heard his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Yeah, you’re single and all the boys have someone special they’re gonna bring… it’s gonna be awkward as hell because they’re gonna act different because they’re around their special someone so you thought if I was there, it’d be more fun because at least you have a friend with you that’s not gonna act fake the whole time there but I can’t go so you decided you’re not going too like a minute ago.”

Silence lulls in after your analogy that you sound so sure of when, in fact, he has a whole list of things he’d do on the date which he may or may not have gone over a hundred times in his head.

Doesn’t matter now, since that date is a no-go.

He’s going to delete that list off his phone once he gets to his place and drink himself silly until he wipes it out of his mind.

“Yeah,” Jimin says a moment later, “yeah… I mean, girls in love are cute but boys in love are just… annoying.”

The week flies by without Jimin ever mentioning Monday and you’ve showed him the clothes you’re going to wear to visit your parents because apparently-

“It’s lunch at some five star Michelin restaurant and I think they’re gonna tell me they’re getting a divorce,” your voice drifts into the room from the open, walk-in closet.

“If they’re not in some long, dreadful battle on who gets the holiday house with the pool and the dogs - how do I look?” You step out, in a frilly creme sweater with a black ribbon tied around the collar of your white undershirt with a black pleated skirt that stops mid-thighs, just inches from your black stockings.

A glaring contrast to your collection of washed out skinny jeans, plain t-shirts and sneakers.

“You… look…” Jimin knows he should stop openly ogling at your never-before-seen drip but there’s just something about the creme colored sweater.

“Like a good girl?” You offer with a smile Jimin couldn’t quite put a name to. Somehow he notices a trace of sadness in your eyes, but you disappear into the closet too soon.

“I’ll think about what to wear the morning I need to wear it,” you’re in the middle of pulling off the sweater when Jimin comes up behind you, kissing your neck and grabbing your boobs like they’re his.

The sound of your giggle is music to his ears.

That is, until his boner brushes against your butt and you gasp, “Chim! We just did it.”

“I know but you look so cute in that sweater.” He sounds exactly like Jeongguk. Like a fuckboy.

Like one of the boys you got tired of before you finally noticed him, the quiet, shy guy who’s friends with the outgoing, baby-faced Jeon Jeongguk whom - Jimin hates to admit it but he thinks about this every once so often and gets jealous all on his own - you’ve humped and dumped.

How you and Jeongguk still manage to stay friends and tease each other about the other’s choice of partners, Jimin doesn’t know.

It’s like a twin calling the other ugly.

He wonders if you and him will still stay friends after…

Jimin pushes the thought out of his mind. It’s not hard to forget everything when he’s with you - when he’s kissing you on the mouth like you’re the only girl he’ll want to spend the rest of his college life with and maybe his old days with together too.

“Chim, I can’t get my shirt creased,” you say but you’re already dripping wet and laying down in said shirt that’s half ridden up from him sucking and biting on your nipples.

He stopped you when you tried to take off your clothes.

“I’ll wash it and iron it for you,” he negotiates just as he rolls the condom over his length.

The sound of your giggle makes his heart skip a beat. Or maybe that’s the libido?

Either way, your mouth clamps shut when he pulls you down against him by the dip of your waist.

A different kind of hymn leaves your lips as Jimin throws his head back, relishing in the feeling of you around him.

When Monday rolls around, Jimin’s lying on the bean bag with his two legs sprawled over the floor. The boys are all out with either their significant others, working part-time or at a party.

The worn out baseball Jimin’s been tossing in the air and catching with one hand finally hits him square in the face when he hears the doorbell, signaling the presence of someone at the door and that someone being none of the boys because they would just punch in the code and strut in like they own the place.

Jimin thought maybe it’s Yoongi - the guy couldn’t even remember what he had for dinner and actually forgot the passcode to his own rental room once.

So he didn’t think to check who it was.

When your bright smile and slightly puffy eyes flash in front of him, Jimin thinks his soul just yeeted itself out of his body.

“Hey!” You sing song, holding up two plastic bags of beers and snacks.

It takes a moment for him to snap out of his stupor and grab them from your hands and then stepping aside to let you in.

“Is… everyone late or am I just early?” You sound increasingly confused as you step further into the center of the room, standing right next to the bean bag he was laying in just a moment ago.

“Oh-” he says once before he opens his mouth the second time, ready to spurt out another lie, “oh yeah… we decided not to ‘cause why hang out in a group when you can hang out with your significant other… you know, just the two of you… doing what couples do…”

“Huh,” you say, nodding though not quite believing him but you being you, easily lets it slide, plopping on the bean bag and grabbing the closest thing to you which is the ball that hit Jimin in the face - he’s sure he has a circular mark smack dab in the area on the top of his nose bridge, in between his eyes.

The dress you end up wearing is creme colored and riding up your thighs - Jimin swallows thickly and give extra attention to the bottle opener.

“So… how did lunch go?” He pops two beers open and hands one to you, taking a seat on Yoongi’s favorite couch and admiring how your dress is taking the shape of your body as gravity pulls it down.

“Oh, you know, everyone was being fake and acting like the perfect role in the family,” you put the beer down a few inches above your head so as to not tip it over with the ball you’re waving around but not throwing in the air like Jimin did.

“Sounds suffocating,” Jimin repeats a similar answer he gives whenever you use that dismissive tone while talking about your family.

“...are you okay?” Then he asks - and he’s genuinely asking - about your state of mind while casually downing the beer and feeling the bitterness lessen with every gulp.

The silence that lapses in between you is familiar.

“If I say no, can I get a hug?” It’s the look in your eyes, glimmering like the lake he used to go to in summer.

“Always,” he sets his beer down on the table next to the couch and goes over to you, standing on his knees before bending down and engulfing you in his arm.

You’ve always had a knack for picking yourself up.

When he sees you the next time, which is on instagram and a post of you having lunch with your friends, Jimin could hardly believe that’s the girl who asked him for a hug as if she’s afraid she’ll be putting him in an uncomfortable spot by asking for too much.

But there’s something…

Like an invisible wall made of ice that he can’t thaw through nor can he climb over to get to the other side where you are. Where you keep the people you love the closest. Closer than he’ll ever be.

Jeon Jeongguk is one of them.

In the picture of five people huddled close to fit in the frame, Jeongguk has his arm over you with a peace sign while you lean your head on his neck but not actually resting on it - like it’s an unconscious action you’d do because you’ve done that plenty of times.

Is it when you two were together?

Everyone he knows, knows that you and Jeongguk used to be more than just friends at some point.

Sometimes he still hears people talking about you two in passing.

‘Did ___ and Jeongguk get back together? I saw in Jeongguk’s snapstory - they were in a club or something.’

‘No way. There goes my chance of getting close with Jeongguk.’

‘Girl, with ___ hanging around him 24/7, do you think he’d look at girls like us?’

‘A girl can dream though.’

Jimin wanted to open his mouth and tell them they deserve way better than Jeon Jeongguk - though they’re not prettier than you.

He thinks you’re the loveliest girl on planet earth and if there was another life form on another planet, he’s almost a hundred percent sure you’d still be prettiest being in the universe with your obsession for skinny jeans and the way you’d unconsciously pout when he talks about how things weren’t going his way that day as if you would’ve exchanged your abundance of luck with his shitty one just because you’ve got that big of a heart and how you’d be walking with your friends, laughing and giggling and when you see him, you’d wave at him like you’re good friends.

Second only to Jeongguk and your friend group that you’re always hanging out with.

“Oh, ___? We were childhood friends.”

“Hmm… Gguk and I became friends because our parents are friends.”

The two of them say at different times and settings when Jimin asked, trying to play it cool. Like he isn’t just brimming with jealousy. Like he’s not half-way to losing his mind because the girl of his dreams just went to a retreat with his friend-of-a-friend-turned-actual-friend together when everyone else in the group who was excitedly planning for the trip - couldn’t make it.

The rooms at the inn weren’t even pre-booked. It was owned by Jeongguk’s family and they didn’t deposit any money for the trip for them to rationalize going on that trip anyway despite everyone else not being to go.

“The trip? It was fun, if you want we can go together next time.”

Jimin isn’t sure if you even mean that when he asked how the trip went after you’re glistening with the glow of after sex and scrolling through instagram, liking posts of everyone you know.

But then three months later, on your break, Jimin is hit with a ‘keep your schedule free next week for a whole week!!!’

Then he finds himself at a five star hotel by the beach with the most breathtaking view of the sea.

It wasn’t the inn owned by the Jeon’s but Jimin liked the fact that you brought him to a place - and he hopes his assumptions are true - your friends have never been before. Especially Jeongguk.

“Woah, this place is better than I thought,” a king sized bed lies directly across from the balcony where you’re standing, hair flying behind your back as the seaside breeze blows into the room.

“We can watch the sun rise and set from our bed,” Jimin comments for the sake of saying something.

He’s not sure what this means. He’s not sure if he should be having a boner at the thought of the two of you being together for a whole week without any other person getting in the way. He’s not sure if his heart should be thumping this fast.

For the first time since he’s known you, Park Jimin is the most unsure he’s ever been.

“You know what I wanna watch?” Your hands slip in his as you stand between him  and the open balcony door, “you under me, biting your lips because you’re still shy about the sound you make.”

So when you tug him back into the bedroom just minutes after checking in, naturally, Park Jimin follows like he’s been bewitched by your ungodly beauty.

Once the one week of nothing but heavenly morning wishes and passionate night kisses - oh, there was more than just kissing but Jimin remembers how your lips meld so perfectly together with his the most - Jimin is sure.

‘Something definitely changed.’

He thinks maybe it’s not impossible to dream of a future with you even after college.

“Jimin I-... I’m not at a point in life to be thinking about relationships,” you say, hand gripping your arm, head lowered as if your whole body is saying sorry.

“O-oh,” is all he says, he hearts his heart breaking and his chest caving.

All of a sudden, the lights in Gangnam city doesn’t seem so bright anymore.

You both live your last year pretending like the other doesn’t exist. He doesn’t look at you when he passes you and neither did you. Only talks to Jeongguk even though you’re right next to the aforementioned man - granted you were talking with your other friends like you didn’t even notice him there.

But Jimin’s never felt so invisible in his life than he does now.

Then, graduation rolls around and he thinks finally, he won’t have to walk through the hallway and pretend like he didn’t see you. Don't have to keep a five feet distance whenever you meet up for a group project.

Park Jimin doesn’t need to see your pretty face and starry eyes anymore.

“Jimin… do you have a minute?”

Or so he thought.

“So… congrats on surviving college,” you make small talk while standing just ten feet away from the boys whom he’s sure are speculating on what you’re talking about.

Jimin never got to prove to his friends that you’re not the mean, name-forgetting girl they all thought.

Jeongguk knows you’re not. He’s always backing Jimin up when Jimin’s debunking their passing accusations about you.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out between two people but doesn’t mean one of them is the bad guy.” Jeongguk's words put an end to their debate of whether Jimin deserved better than you or not.

For someone young, Jeongguk spoke his mind decidedly.

Jimin felt ashamed that he’d ever been jealous of Jeongguk’s relationship with you.

“I just… didn’t wanna leave things on a bad note. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no but I really like spending time with you - whether it’s sex or just staying over and cuddling for hours… I like it all.” You say the word sex and cuddle like they’re used interchangeably and Jimin thinks his heart just fluttered.

And you’d said it in public where your everyone can see or possibly pick up on what you were saying, at that.

Well, one thing’s for sure, you’ve got bigger balls than he does.

“My feelings are the same as six months ago and call me crazy but I don’t think you dislike me either.” He finally says and it feels like a deadweight has been lifted off his shoulders.

There comes that pout, as if something is bothering you and you always ever pout like that when that something concerns him.

“You kidding me? I can never dislike you.”

The Jimin from six months ago would have stared at you with disbelief and a dust of pink on his cheeks. But the Jimin he is now simply smiles, heart thumping in his chest. He nods.

“Thanks for telling me that,” and Jimin knows that’s the closest to an ‘I like you’ he can get with the girl who builds an ice fortress around her heart.

A whole year passes by and Jimin finds himself in different shades of grey every day, working at his dad’s company and attending dinner meetings. Life comes to a standstill while time passes him by.

“So, like, you have a sports car, right? Why don’t you come over to the race circuit after dinner? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

Jeongguk tells him over the phone.

And by ‘everyone’ he means the sons and daughters in the corporate world. It’s networking at its finest.

When he’s there, three cars are already racing in the circuit. The smell of burnt rubber and the sound of tires screeching against asphalt isn’t exactly his favorite but they have cheap booze instead of fine wine and he knows the people here are in for the same thing as he is.

An escape.

Away from the grandeur of fine wine and dinner dresses and the elders breathing down their necks and having to act like the next heir to the legacy they were born to carry.

“That Chevrolet over there,” Jeongguk comes, hand on Jimin’s back as his other one that’s holding a bottle of beer points at a red car that looks like a racing fireball, “everyone’s betting on that one tonight.”

Jimin doesn’t know there’s a bet.

“I’ll skip the bet this time ‘round. Haven’t seen the driver yet,” he shrugs dismissively.

Even in stock investment, he’d learned to study the market first before placing his best bet.

Jeongguk leaves his side when his friends - he’s got new ones now - beckons him over. At the same time, the Chevrolet passes the finish line seconds before the Ford Mustang and McLaren 720s, making it the winner of the night.

The driver seems like a show off with the way the car rolls up to the audience, the sound of its engines revving into the night being met with cheers of half-drunk young adults.

Arrogance is a man’s downfall.

Jimin’s about to turn around and head for the exit when the door of the car gets pushed open. The driver steps out, decked in black and red leather jeans and jackets that seem to match the car.

But it’s the smooth, silken hair that cascades past the helmet that catches his eyes.

Park Jimin’s seen many arrogant men in his life but he’s only ever seen one woman with balls and looks good wearing them.

“___! ___! ___!” The crowd starts cheering as you pull off the helmet, holding it underneath your arm and waist.

Your eyes are as brilliant as the night sky full of stars. They’re tinged with shock and then recognition. And finally, you smile that gorgeous smile that gets you misunderstood often as a woman who doesn’t need anything or anyone but uses them as they come.

But Park Jimin knows better than anyone, how wholeheartedly happy that smile looks when you see him.

Like meeting a good friend after a long time.

Seven months down the road, Jimin finds himself with just a blanket draped over his waist while you’re taking a shower in his bathroom to get ready to head to Hong Kong for a business trip.

He hears the sound of the shower head being turned off. The tapping of your foot around his bedroom as you pick up your clothes that are strewn all over the floor.

Then the bed dips ever so gently under your weight as you climb over to him, the fresh scent of shower get filling his senses.  Lips press a deep, lingering kiss on his. As if you don’t want to go to a place where he won’t be.

A few socials and midnight races after his first meeting with you after a long time, you asked him if he’s seeing someone.

“If I say yes, what will you do?” It’s playful at first, because Jimin didn’t want to get himself hurt the second time.

But it’s the way you tilted your head, a finger tapping on your chin as you pondered on his words, “that’s a problem because I don’t want to be that girl that steals another girl’s man,” then you looked at him like you know he’s the one you want to wake up to every morning and the last face you see when you sleep at night and if you can’t have that. then-

“Can you be mine… just for tonight?”

“I don’t think I can.” The crestfallen expression you wear makes his own heart break, even if it’s just for a split second-

“Because I’m not seeing anyone but I’m in that point in life where I want a serious relationship or nothing at all.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is how he doesn’t want a relationship if it’s not with the girl who still haunts his dreams even after all this time.

Just like how you’d turned him down because you weren’t looking to be in a relationship before, you’d courted Jimin like you’d want to spend your whole life with him now.

Flowers got sent to his office everyday until it smells nothing short of floral. You’d be there, waving at him like he’s your savior in that dreadful social you were both attending. Every week, you’d plan dinner dates under the guise of catching up.

Before you race, you’d look over to where he’s standing, as if saying ‘this one’s for you’ before slipping into your car and coming out first every single time.

As if you were making up for every month of the year that you’d let life pass you by.

Now you’ve won a total of 36 races since he met you and the metal band you gifted him on the night of your 12th win feels warm against his skin. As if it’s absorbed all the love and adoration you poured into it.

And you’re wearing that ring he got you on your birthday on your finger that’s resting on his chest where his heart is as he kisses you back just as reluctant to let you leave.

But Park Jimin knows wherever you are, wherever you will be - you will always find your way back to each other.

Back home.

[spencersawkward]

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

[tea-and-la]

“Katara is Hot-Headed”

.... okay, so i’ve seen this ICE cold take enough time to warrant a formal post. i’ve seen and strongly agree with the posts i’ve seen that refute this, like @shewhotellsstories post here. but unfortunately, this sentiment is still something that’s widely accepted in the atla fandom. it’s no surprise that “katara is hotheaded” is the common argument for “why zutara doesn't work.” and while it’s more than irritating that zutara antis love to align them in ways that are only negative in nature, i’m not going to get into that. i’m going to focus on katara. 

one of the key defining aspects of katara’s personality is her patience. she is unwavering in her faith of aang (through their numerous supportive talks), as well as her encouragement of her friends when they need it (ex. toph in the runaway and sokka in sokka’s master.) but most notably? let’s talk about the desert episode because this is where katara’s patience really shines. 

there are a lot of things going on in that episode. aang is dealing with grief from the loss of appa and lashes out at both toph and katara while also intermittently flying away from the group. what would a “hot headed” or quick-tempered person do in this situation? let’s look at some of the dialogue: 

aang: [Enraged.] How could you let them take Appa?! ‌ Why didn't you stop them‌?!

toph: [Defensively.] I couldn't! The library was sinking! You guys were still inside and-

aang: [Snaps at Toph in a harsh way.] You just didn't care! You never liked Appa! You wanted him gone!

aang looks extremely furious at Toph as Katara walks over to him. She puts her hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down.

katara: We're all concerned, but we can't afford to be fighting now.

in that dialogue, katara inserts herself in to mediate. she recognizes that he’s in a dark place, and she sees past the harshness of his words to see that they come from a place of hurt, not malice. she reacts with empathy and understanding. 

a quick-tempered person would not have responded in this way.

the majority of this episode, katara is essentially the leader of the group. it’s swelteringly hot, which is enough for any hot headed person to get irritated, but she doesn’t. 

toph: Katara, can I have some more water?

katara: Okay, but we've got to try to conserve it.

sokka: [As he points to his mouth.] We're drinking your bending water. [He tries to define the taste of the water, smacking his lips. Disgustedly he exclaims.] You used this on the swamp guy! Urch!

toph: It does taste swampy.

katara: [Sad tone.] I'm sorry, it's all we have.

in this scene, even momo complains about the taste of the water, the only water they have. and katara’s response was to apologize for something she can’t control. 

after this point, she has to lead toph through the sand, while sokka is high on cactus juice and aang is upset. instead of getting frustrated, she tries to inspire hope into them all: 

aang: [Hopelessly.] What's the difference? We won't survive without Appa. We all know it.

katara: [Encouraging.] Come on, Aang. We can do this if we work together. Right Toph?

toph: As far as I can feel, we're trapped in a giant bowl of sand pudding. I got nothin'.

katara: [Hopeful.] Sokka? Any ideas how to find Ba Sing Se?

Sokka and Momo lie side by side on their backs, arms and legs stretched out. Sokka smiles blissfully.

she does get annoyed, but she doesn’t direct that frustration at any of them, unlike a quick tempered person would do.

katara: [Grabs her head in annoyance.] Ugh ... We're getting out of this desert, and we're going to do it together! Aang, get up. Everybody, hold hands. We can do this. We have to.

the point of these excerpts isn’t to say that anyone else in the gaang is horrible. i just wanted to point out the moments when she could’ve gotten frustrated and lashed out, but didn’t. not once. 

patience and quick temperedness are antonyms of each other. and imo, the fact that so much of katara’s character is defined by her patience (even outside of this specific episode) and nurturing (for over 80% of the show)  is enough to refute her “hotheadedness.” especially, when the other members of the gaang are allowed to be upset and/or angry on occasion and their dispositions/temperaments are not immediately associated with hotheadedness. maybe unpack why that is. 

let’s take the instance when she and toph argue in the chase. first of all, this episode is characterized by all of the members of the gaang being sleep deprived (i.e. not in their normal states), so their attitudes should be taken with a grain of salt. (what humans do you know that are happy-go-lucky when they haven’t slept enough?)

 anyway, the episode starts with katara attempting to lightly hint to toph about  group dynamics. 

katara: So Toph, usually when setting up camp, we try to divide up the work.

toph: [Shrugging casually.] Hey, don't worry about me. I'm good to go.

katara: Well, actually what I'm trying to say is, [Holds arms out in gesture.] some of us might fetch water, while someone else might set up the fire pit, or put up the tent. [Momo flies over to her, dropping several berries he had collected into her hands.] Even Momo does his fair share.

toph: [Breezily.] Katara, I'm fine. I can carry my own weight. I don't need a fire, [Pats bag.] I've already collected my own food and look, [Earthbends a rock tent over her.] my tent's all set up.

katara: [Slightly irritated.] Well, that's great for you, but we still need to finish 

toph: [Angered.] I don't understand what's the problem here!

katara: Waves her hand dismissively and walks away.] Never mind.

from the above excerpt, she drops the issue and doesn’t lash out. later, she even goes back and tries to make amends with toph. she even tries smiling before she heads over there.

Cuts to Katara, who sets down a jug of water. She looks over at Toph, sitting comfortably beneath her earth tent. Her dull expression changes to one of slight happiness. She approaches Toph who is eating some sort of food item.

katara: [Rubs back of head sheepishly.] Hey Toph, I wanted to apologize for earlier. I think we're all just a little tired and getting on each other's nerves.

toph: [Casually.] Yeah, you do seem pretty tired.

katara: [Growing disgusted.] I meant all of us.

Cuts to shot of inside Toph's earth tent as she lazily tosses the food item onto the ground and lays her head down to rest.

toph: Well, good night.

katara: [Slightly irked.] Good night.

none of her mannerisms and word choices are characteristic of someone with a temper. despite toph’s slight unintentional antagonistic remarks, katara doesn’t react. 

later, after they managed to evade the azula’s tank train for the night, they land appa. and katara tries, again:

toph: [Leaping off Appa and lying on the ground, relieved.] Ah, land sweet land! [Rises and says cheerfully.] See you guys in the morning!

katara: Actually, can you help us unload?

toph: [Points a finger at Katara in irritation.] Look! I didn't ask you to help unload my stuff! [Turns and begins walking away.] I'm carrying my own weight.

katara: [Angrily.] That's not the point. [Approaches Toph.] Ever since you joined us, you've been nothing but selfish and unhelpful!

toph: [Enraged.] What? Look here, sugar queen, [Points finger at Katara.] I gave up everything I had so that I could teach Aang earthbending. So don't you talk to me about being selfish!

the only times when katara reacts in anger that could be perceived as impulsive, is when she is insulted by Pakku and when Sokka suggests that she leave the Fire Nation town without helping. Both of these are hardly instances of hotheadedness, and moreso a reflection of who she is as a character: someone who doesn’t turn her back on people who needs her and someone who fights injustice. 

why would we call katara hotheaded for not settling for being antagonized by a misogynistic asshole? she was a trailblazer in that scene and it meant so much to the little girls of the Northern Water Tribe. similarly, why would we call her hotheaded for not being able to turn away from people who are in need? after all, that’s a core part of her character’s trauma: feeling of survivor’s guilt that there was something she could’ve done to save her mom. it’s part of why she has to act to help others. her passion isn’t synonymous with hotheadedness.