#pushing the agenda that people should work work work and never rest is so dumb

[aimseytv]

i know it’s quite silly but seeing you know ur limits and not over working urself like very comforting in a way? makes me realise i need to do that a lot more yknow?

trusting your body is one of the hardest things to learn, but one of the most beneficial ones

[yoongihan]

Paint My Nails - HJS - OneShot

pairing: jisung x femreader

genre: f2l, almost pwp probably, slice of life smut, fluffy too

rating: M (so not for minors)

word count: 4.5k or so

warnings: smut in the forms of fingering (fem receiving), penetrative sex (protected - responsible people here in this fic), cursing, a lot of kissing and mc fantasizing about Jisung in ways that are not platonic. They (Felix makes an appearance as the roommate) are all the same age, but mc is older by a few months so they call her 'noona' to annoy her. Mc has a few too many drinks, but most of it is burned off by the time anything provocative occurs. everyone is of age to drink and consent. there's a mention of penance and self-flagelation, but not in a literal sense. mc is just being dramatic.

a/n: i wrote this today. i barely edited it because it was like a race against time because it's still his birthday here where I am and my god, I love this man so much that I hate him (you know what I mean). so in typical me fashion, here's another fic of just pure han jisung adoration, kinda friends to lovers (typical me again), and all inspired by the skz-code episodes of them at the sauna and nail-painting. I'm kind of sure this is just a mess and I apologize for any inconsistencies.

~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a knock on your apartment door and you lift your eyes from attempting to paint the nails on your right hand (why can’t you be ambidextrous? It’d be so helpful. Like you know…for spy stuff and nail painting) to Felix who is seated on the floor, leaning back against the sofa you’re both using for tonight’s chill night.

“Who’s that?” you ask, squinting at the door now, like you might be able to perceive who’s on the other side. You have had a couple of drinks. Sweet sweet cocktails premade in bottles and cans. Both you and Felix have been indulging in an evening of dumb 80s teen films and self-care. You’d already done his nails, a very pretty lavender, and he was letting them dry.

“Jisungie,” he answers, carefully pushing off the floor to go and answer the door.

“What?”

You don’t mean for your voice to go so shrill, but this is brand new information and there should always be a warning when Felix invites people over.

Especially the Han Jisung.

Felix pauses to look back at you. “Jisung. I invited him over. He was bored at his place.”

“And you didn’t think to let me know?” You gesture wildly. “When I look like…” You wave at yourself, encompassing the loose sweatpants and cropped t-shirt that you definitely first bought in middle school. It wasn’t cropped then. It was normal. You just got taller and a little more…endowed. 

Wearing something like this was fine in front of Felix. Because it’s Felix, your beloved roommate. Yes, he’s one of the prettiest humans on the planet, but because the world is weird, you don’t feel anything but massive amounts of love and affection for him - platonically. Which works out well because romance is the subject you struggle with most. 

Felix cocks his head to the side and you remember that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how you feel about his friend, Jisung. 

Probably because you keep that shit to yourself because the moment you ever share stuff like that with someone, it comes back to bite you in the ass. Broken and strained friendships, accusations of trying to steal someone’s crush, loss of contact…a mess. 

“You look fine…he knows we’re just hanging out.” 

Oblivious boy.

You huff and close the nail polish bottle tightly (you don’t need to add a tangible mess to this evening’s agenda). You also decide to finish off your off-brand vodka-cocktail-in-a-can as though liquid courage can save this night.

Never mind that you usually say way too much under the influence. 

The door opens and you stare as Felix embraces the newcomer. Jisung’s smile is tired, but warm as his chin rests on his friend’s shoulder. He sees you and mouths a quick ‘hey’. 

You wave. Or you mean to wave, but you actually knock over the empty can instead. 

“Shit,” you mutter, picking it up then cursing again because you definitely messed up a fingernail in your can rescue. 

“Okay there?”

You look up as Jisung slinks off his windbreaker, tossing it on the arm of the sofa and sitting down in the middle. You have one side and Felix was on the floor of the other side. Cuddling would happen after fingernails were dry and safe. 

“Just clumsy,” you say, feeling your face heat up. Hopefully, it shows up just as too much alcohol and not embarrassment. “Hi.”

“Beer?” Felix asks. “Water…Coke?”

“Coke’s good,” Jisung states and glances at the television. “Is this…Teen Witch?”

“Oh my god,” you practically squeal. “How do you know that?”

“My older brother’s girlfriend loves eighties movies. Like…so many…” he glances over at you, grinning. “You know this is like shitty cinema, right?”

You make a face. “You can walk right out that door, Han Jisung, if you’re going to mock our viewing preferences. Tonight is classics,” you point to the screen. “Drinking.” You hold up an unopened bottle. “And nails.” You flash your mostly finished left hand at him. “To stay here you have to participate in at least one of those. Unironically.”

His grin has just widened as he takes a glass of soda from Felix, the latter who plops back down on the floor and unpauses the movie. 

“I do?”

Felix shrugs. “She��s the noona.”

You sigh dramatically, turning back toward your bottle of liquid ‘Starry Night,’ an almost blue-black polish.

“We’re all the same year, losers. I just showed up in the spring instead of the fall like you two.”

Felix and Jisung fist bump (Felix is very careful again because nails) in September solidarity and you huff again. 

“Noona,” Jisung says just to irritate you before taking a swig of coke and reaching into the big bowl on the coffee table in front of him for some trail mix. 

Felix wiggles and groans. “My butt is numb.”

Jisung laughs. “Then sit on the couch, idiot.”

Felix points at you both. “There’s not a lot of room.”

“Since when did you have personal space, Lix,” Jisung scooted closer to you, bumping your arm and you pouted. Another messed up nail. “Sorry.”

“I’d be mad if I actually had had success with this hand,” you reply as Felix plops in the empty space at the end. You can smell Jisung this close. Sort of like cloves and rosemary. He turns to see you sniffing. 

“You okay?”

You are such a moron.

“Sorry…” You stare back at your hand, trying to undo the damage of the last attempt. “You smell good.”

“You can smell me over that?” he points to the open bottle. He has a point, but to explain, you’d have to detail how hyper-aware you are of him and that isn’t going to go well at all. 

Felix pipes up about the movie and Jisung is momentarily distracted from your lack of reply. You try again to paint your right pinkie nail.

“I can do it for you?”

“You can?”

Jisung laughs bashfully, head ducked down as he takes the polish bottle from you. He turns toward you, crossing his legs and patting his knee for you to rest your unpainted hand on. 

“I’m not claiming I’ll be great at it, but I feel like I’ll do a better job than you doing it on your own.” He snorts. “Felix should have offered.”

“I can’t until mine are dry!” The youngest protests. 

“Obviously, Felix is a terrible friend,” you say, placing your hand gently on his jean-clad knee. 

“Both of you suck.”

You and Jisung both coo over Felix’s pout, but Jisung starts painting your nails. You watch his face more than his hands (either feature is one you’re weak about, so it’s really like which type of suffering do you want to inflict on yourself); the furrow in his brow as he concentrates, the pursed lips (okay you cannot stare at those too long because getting horny while drunk is just asking for a restless night), how soft his hair always looks. It’s currently his natural black after having it wavy and orange for a time. He’d worn the unusual color well, but it wasn’t like you could see anything but stars when you looked at him anyway.

“So…” you begin. “Drinking, movie-watching or nails?”

“Hmm?” He lifts his head to meet your gaze and you want to just openly stare (you are the heart-eyes emoji). He has such big pretty brown eyes and when they’re focused on you, you lose all ability to function.  

“Which are you going to do? To stay?”

He smirks at your persistence. “I guess nails. I drank too much last night and still feel like I need to recover.”

Felix holds up his nails. “She does a pretty good job, Sungie.”

You preen at the compliment, making them both laugh. 

It gets quiet (except the movie) as he continues your nails. You press your lips together to not speak, because having his hand holding each of your fingers might be the most erotic moment of your life.

Which is just sad when you think about the last time you had sex. 

“Why were you out drinking?”

“Bin and Hyunjinnie won their bowling league tournament thingy.”

“Why didn’t you go, Lix?” you ask, looking over at your roommate.

“I didn’t get the text until I woke up the next morning,” he says. “Also, are you both going to talk through this…the whole time?”

You and Jisung share a smile. 

“Does it bother you?”

Felix shoots you an unamused look. “I’m going to grab us more drinks and food if you both are going to talk over this.”

“And miss the witty dialogue?” Jisung mocks. You smack his arm with your already dried and done hand and he winks at you.

Fuck. Why is everything he does so impactful?

“Are you okay to drive?”

Your roommate rolls his eyes. “I've had two of those…the rest…was all you.”

You look at the empty cans. “Oops.”

You’re rewarded with laughter from both of them as Felix grabs Jisung’s windbreaker and heads to the door, slipping on shoes. 

“Stealing this, Sung.” 

“It swallows you.” The owner of said windbreaker seems unperturbed by the theft. 

“Because Felix is a delicate flower.”

You get a defiant middle-finger from Felix as he shuts the door behind him. 

Leaving you alone with Jisung.

Which you just realized. 

“How’d I do?” he asks as he holds up your right hand, looking at it with critical eyes. 

“Much better than I was doing.”

He grins at you. “That was a pretty low bar, noona.”

You pull away your hand, mock-annoyed. “I guess, thank you.”

He leans back on the sofa as you screw the cap to the polish back on and set it on the side table. You lift up a green bottle for his inspection.

“This color?”

“For what?”

“For you, Han Jisung.”

“Oh….” He crosses his arms over his chest, drawing your eyes to the width and breadth (is that the same thing, your brain questions) of his torso. He’s not a big guy, not like Chan or Bin, but Jisung works out at the same gym as them and my god, you can tell. 

He once wore a sleeveless t-shirt at a cook-out and you nearly fainted. 

Felix thought it was just the heat and humidity, but you knew it was Jisung’s glorious shoulders. 

“I think I’m going to be super basic and go with black nail polish.”

You grimace. “Ugh, why so boring?”

His eyes are warm. “Cause I am boring.”

“Bullshit.” You hold out your last can of whatever you’ve been drinking. “Please open.”

He pops the top and hands it back to you. You take a long swallow, knowing you’re flushed with his proximity more than anything else. 

“You don’t think I’m boring?”

“Are you fishing for a compliment?”

He straightens up and leans toward you as you continue to look through your supply of polishes. “If I am?”

He probably has no idea that his breath has hit the exposed skin of your neck. Like there’s no way he knows that you shiver because of him.

“If you want me to wax poetic about you, just say the word.”

You can hear his chuckle as you finally find your black polish and turn. He’s only half a foot away and you see his eyes widen at how close you are. 

“Really?” He swallows and draws back just a little, which reminds you that he most definitely does not feel about you the way you feel about him. 

You shrug and hold out your hand. “Hand please.”

He doesn’t immediately do as you ask, and it makes you look up at him. He isn’t smiling, he’s not frowning either. He looks thoughtful, like he’s trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle. 

“What?”

“You can’t see the movie like this.” He says it slowly, as though he’s testing…something. 

You look at the television then back at him. “So?”

“I thought movie-watching was vital to this evening’s plans.” One corner of his mouth lifts and there’s the beginnings of a smirk. “I wouldn’t want to mess that up.”

You roll your eyes, a little nervous for some reason you can’t really explain. “What do you suggest then?”

He adjusts so he’s facing the screen, leaning against the cushiony back of the couch, and then pats the space between his legs. 

“Sit here. Then we both can watch.”

If he sees how wide your eyes get then he doesn’t show it. He just looks at you expectantly, innocently like sitting on his lap, in between his legs is the most normal of things to do.

Which…with Felix, yeah, you totally have. But Felix isn’t Jisung.

Jisung is not Felix. 

It’s probably only a few seconds (it feels like an hour) but you shrug again and move to sit right there.

Oh this is a bad bad idea.

He curls around you, hands coming to set upon your thighs, ready to be decorated. One of your friends might diatribe about Minho’s thighs and you never really got it, but sitting with Jisung’s flush against yours is up there with all transcendent experiences; seeing the Sistine Chapel, getting high in a field at sunset, hearing Led Zeppelin live…

You shake the bottle and undo the cap, placing the bottle in one of his hands before taking the other in yours. 

“You have nice hands, Ji.”

You feel his chin touch your shoulder before resting fully. He’s so close to your neck that he could press his lips (those perfect lips - full bottom and sharp top lip) without having to move much. 

“Thanks.” His voice seems deeper but that’s probably because he’s so close. You start with his thumb, trying to focus on doing a good job and not that your body temperature went up a million degrees in the last two seconds. 

A few minutes pass, not that you’re watching the movie because nail-painting takes all your concentration. You don’t know if he is and if you try and look, your faces would be so close and you don’t think your self-control is that good. 

You know it’s not.

“Are you cold?”

“No, why?”

“Your legs are shaking,” he says softly and you look past his hand to where your legs, clad still in sweatpants are indeed trembling.

Yeah, you’re not cold. You’re so turned on that your body is about to go into a lust-frenzy. 

“Just fidgety,” is all you can come up with.

His head moves on your shoulder, turning a bit more toward you. “Yeah? Do you need to get up, move around?”

God, he’s so nice. Worrying that you might be atrophying and here you are, trying to imagine his hands were under your shirt. 

You might need to do some major penance after this. Some self-flagelation too. 

“I’m good.”

Yeah, you’re so good. All you want to do is turn your face and kiss one of his beautiful cheeks, trail along his jawline, nip a little at that neck, climb him like a fucking tree…

You squeeze your eyes tight in an effort to calm the fuck down. 

You finish one coat on both hands despite your wandering mind. You take the bottle out of his hands, recapping it and shaking it well. He shifts, one hand (the first, the drier one) touching your waist which is bare because of the way too small t-shirt you still have on. 

His touch is scorching. 

“Um,” you squeak. “Do you need to get up and move around? Legs falling asleep?”

You feel his chest move against your back as he takes a deep breath. “No.”

You do turn (stupid really) to see him, confused as to why he’s now gripping your waist as though to keep you in place.

“Jisung?”

His eyes, closed when you turned, now open and stare into yours in a way that makes you forget how to breathe. 

You turn a bit more and as you do, you realize why he’s holding you still. So you couldn’t feel him.

You’re not the only one stimulated right now.

His cheeks are red and he drops his gaze. 

“M’ sorry. I wasn’t…”

With guys, you know that anything can encourage such a response physically. It doesn’t mean that he likes you back. That he even really thinks of you like that. Your nearness to his dick and movement might just be all it is.

But you prefer a different interpretation. Fueled by alcohol and your overactive imagination. 

You kiss him.

Just a light kiss because he’s embarrassed and though you really want to like go full ‘rip off clothing and fuck’ mode, your heart is pretty soft for him. And you just want him to be okay. To know that he’s wonderful and every part of him is wonderful and he doesn’t have to be embarrassed around you.

Because he’s wonderful.

You draw back and offer him a smile. His eyes are wide again, looking at you like you might be speaking in a foreign language. 

“It’s all good, beautiful.”

You’ve never called him that before, but you don’t take it back. Because it’s true and even sober you wouldn’t argue that fact. 

He’s really just beautiful. 

You hear and feel him take another breath, this time a bit shaky. 

“How drunk are you?” His voice isn’t much more than a rumble. 

“Not enough to pass this off as just a drunk mistake.” You fiddle with the closed polish bottle. “Unless you want me to.”

His mouth covers yours in less than a millisecond and you’re too stunned to react immediately. The bottle of nail polish falls from your hand, you hear it plunk on the floor as he turns you around, lifting you so you face him, straddling him. Any worry of the damage to his unfinished nails flies out of your head because holy shit, Jisung is kissing you. 

His mouth is so warm, tongue wet and slick. You fist the front of his tshirt, your other hand tracing his ear and down his jaw. He hums at this, holding you by the hips, pressing you down so you can feel exactly what he wants you to feel. 

“Fuck,” you breathe against his lips. He’s hard and when his hips roll, the contact is delicious. Your head falls back when he does it again, a moan that echoes in the empty apartment. 

He presses kisses to your neck, his teeth catching slightly and you tremble. 

“So damn cute,” he mutters into your skin. He lifts his head, pulling you back down for another kiss. “Cute as fuck, telling me I’m beautiful, watching me like I’m special… I really hope you aren’t drunk because I want you so bad.”

Super reluctant, you draw back, staring at him. His hands have drifted; one is up and under the back of your shirt tracing along your spine. The other has spread over your ass. 

“Not drunk…a little bewildered.” 

He grins up at you, pressing a kiss to your chin. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

His eyes are nearly black, blown out with as much desire as you feel. Lips bright red, plump. Skin flushed. 

“That I see you.” He lets go of your ass, cupping the back of your neck to maneuver you into another kiss. “That the moment Lix said that it was just him and you hanging out, I wanted to come over.” He tugs on your lower lip with his teeth, making you whimper. “That I really hope he gets stuck in traffic and doesn’t come back for several hours.”

“That’s not very nice of you to say about one of your best friends.” You brush his hair back out of his eyes. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve never wanted to fuck Felix.” 

The sentiment reverberates through your body and you wrap your arms around his neck, mouth finding whatever skin available. He holds you like that for a while, groaning when you suck a bruise in the curve of his neck. He stands up, letting you slide down his body until your feet touch the floor.

“But you know, in case the universe isn’t listening and there isn’t any traffic, can we go to your room?”

You laugh at his sheepish expression.

“If you want, I mean.”

You link your fingers with his, tugging him away from the living room and down the hall. You gesture to your open door, but he backs in, pulling you to him, one arm wrapping around your waist. Another kiss or five as he shoves close the door. 

He laughs when he falls back onto your bed, letting you straddle him and start untucking his shirt. 

“How long?”

“Hmmm?” he replies to your question. He’s secured you by your hips, only letting go so you can pull off his shirt. You trace one finger down the center of his chest. 

“How long have you–?” Liked you? Just wanted to fuck you? 

“Wanted you?” He watches as you smooth his tousled hair before you lean down and kiss his forehead then his nose then his lips. “You remember when you took one more green tea shot than Bin?”

You raise up to meet his eyes. “Then? Like the fact that I drank too much?”

He smiles, clasping his hands together at your lower back. “You got pretty sick after that, but you didn’t care. You were so happy to beat Bin.” His fingers slide down past the back of your sweatpants’ waistband. “Fuck…you aren’t wearing anything?”

“I mean…it was just a hangout night…with my roommate. I didn’t expect you to show up.”

He pouts as he pinches your butt. “You’re saying you’d have on underwear and a bra if you’d known?”

“You knew I wasn’t wearing a bra?”

He rolls his eyes. “Duh.”

You try to smack him on the arm, but he catches you by the wrist. He props himself up (hand leaving your un-underweared butt) on one elbow before kissing the hand he’s captured. Just one peck in the middle of your palm. Then he rolls you over, tugging on your shirt. 

You dutifully raise your arms as he rids you of it. Watching his eyes sweep over your half-naked form will live in your memories eternally. He has the most expressive face.

“I…um…” It’s dawning on you that you are definitely about to have sex with Han Jisung. You have not prepared for this at all. “There’s…condoms in the bottom drawer.”

His eyes pull from your chest to your face before he leans down to kiss you softly. 

“Baby, are you shy now?”

“A little.”

He rolls off of you, grabbing a condom before slipping a finger under the waistband of your pants. “Can I take these off?”

“Yep, sure.”

He laughs again before lying down next to you, his hand resting on your stomach. “Why are you nervous?”

“Maybe because we’ve never done this before. I mean, us. Together.”

He nods solemnly. “But I like you, you know. I want you to feel good, so I think it’s gonna be okay. Hopefully more than okay.”

He likes you. 

You roll to your side to face him, mouth meeting his. You undo the button of his jeans, the zipper, hand wrapping around him. He curses. 

“Fuck, your hand feels so good.”

“Ji…it’s your dick. Any hand feels good.”

He makes a face at you before kissing you again. He works to shove off his jeans and boxers.

“Feels way better than my hand.”

You snort as you stroke him, carefully, listening to his breathing, his gasps. After a minute or two his hand encircles yours and he pulls you off.

“I’d like our first time to not have me embarrassing myself.”

You can’t help but look at him fondly as he pushes down your sweatpants, those big brown eyes of his fiery and dark. He cups you before raising one eyebrow.

“Was this just from sitting on my lap?”

“Your very existence is a turn-on.”

He laughs at your petulant tone before sliding one finger into you. You grip his wrist, eyes on his. He moves close, tongue finding yours as he matches the rhythm of his finger with his kissing. It feels good, even if it’s not getting you there. Kissing Jisung could last for days and you think you’d be this content. 

You jolt when his thumb presses on your clit and you feel his smirk against your mouth.

“Cocky bastard.”

“Sounds mean, but your breathy voice tells me I’m doing it right.” He adds another finger and you moan. “You close?”

You nod, which is insane because you’re not usually this primed. 

His fingers curl and his thumb presses just right and you break. He swallows your cries, kissing you as your body quivers with the aftershocks of a very good orgasm. When your heartbeat starts to slow down, he pulls his fingers out of you, drawing you close to kiss your cheek and forehead.

“Okay?”

You push him so he’s on his back, your meager strength enough because you’ve surprised him. You move to cradle his hips between your thighs before looking for the condom he’s dropped on the bed. You open it and roll it on him, seeing his eyes close the moment your hands are back on him. 

He lifts up, resting on his elbows when you position him. HIs fingers grip your hip so tight, you think there might be bruises tomorrow, but it feels good. 

As you sink down on him, he raises up more, almost sitting so he can kiss you, holding your face in his hand. 

“Okay?” he asks softly when you don’t move anymore.

“You feel really good,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Not to try and one-up you, but you feel amazing,” he says, making you smile even though all you want to do is have him move. “Can I?”

Your nod is enough for him and the rhythm for you both takes a few tries to get in sync, but his little laughs when it goes wrong are almost as good as when it finally goes right. He’s sweaty and flushed and panting and when his eyes open to see you, you’re overwhelmed. Because he likes you, he laughs with you, he paints your nails…lets you paint his. 

He likes you because you outdrank one of his friends. 

He comes first, a full-body shudder as he falls back onto the bed, you in his arms. You rest your head on his chest, hearing his heart. 

It’s quiet, even though the movie credits are rolling in the other room with some very poppy eighties one-hit wonder creating the soundtrack to this moment. 

You wonder if you should get off of him, let him clean up when his hand comes back to help you find your own end…again.

“Ji, you don’t have to–” He pushes just enough with his thumb that you squeak. His laugh is weary, but happy. He lifts his head to look at you.

“I don’t, but I want to.”

When Felix does come back, he says nothing about the fact that you are in a different set of pajamas, that Jisung’s t-shirt is backward, and that you are still painting his nails. 

He drops the bags on the coffee table and plops on the floor. 

“You didn’t do it on the couch at least, did you?”

--

(c) yoongihan 2023. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part five: Click here, butters, elpacho, last meheecan.

Part six: You're here, dumb!

Part seven: Finally here!

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Peeta and I end up helping Haymitch to his compartment, the reek of vomit and alcohol wasn't exactly pleasant.  Since we couldn't set him down the bed, we ended up hauling him to the bathtub, setting the shower on him. 

Peeta gave me an odd look when I laughed awhile ago; there was no humour in the situation after all. Forming a good impression wasn't really on my agenda. "It's alright; I can take it from here," he said.

I nodded, "Okay," I nodded, putting my lips together. "Do you—need me to call those Capitol people?" I asked, stumbling over my words. My confidence seemed to have been drained at some point.

He shook his head "No, I don't want them," he responded. I nod for the last time and head to my own room, relieved that I don't have to wash putrid vomit off Haymitch's chest hair, or something. Though it would be the perfect "revenge" for the people working here, I get why he doesn't want to see them. 

I wonder, why does he want to help such a wreck? Was he simply kind like the time he gave me bread? Or was he using this to gain Haymitch's favour? A feeling of nervousness bubbled up within me, a kind Peeta Mellark was way more dangerous than an unkind one. Not everyone in the district can afford to be kind, so kind people make such a mark on me.

I looked at the packet of cookies at the table beside the fancy bed—a lump formed in my throat. Kindness would've been nice, but not in this situation. I sighed, taking my attention to the window instead. 

There stood a lonely yellow flower, a dandelion. It took me back to the schoolyard, all those years ago. My eyes had just left Peeta's bruised face when I saw that dandelion; hope rose within me that moment, I plucked it gently from the ground and hurried home. I grabbed a small, broken bucket and grabbed Nal's hand and headed to a meadow. It was filled with the same flowers.

It was the first moment where Nal smiled after our Father's death. He loved the way the flowers smelled and looked. However, he was quite upset because we had to eat them, with the rest of the bakery bread. My father loved his plants, maybe a bit too much. 

I remember countless hours we spent in the woods looking for a specific type of plant, whether for eating or for medicine. He had me memorize them by heart, which took a couple of years because I got distracted halfway through. 

The next day, we were off to school. I hung around the edge of the meadow after, contemplating whether I should jump the fence. My mother couldn't get a job, well, she didn't want to. She thought the whole District would shame her the moment she stepped out of our crumbling home. It made no sense to me; we had nothing to lose anymore.

Which is exactly why I went under the fence, retrieved the old, leather-bound daggers my father made from scraps and wood. It was pretty frail, but if you handle it carefully and throw it properly, it won't break—most of the time.

I didn't go beyond twenty yards that day; I didn't feel confident enough to go deeper, fearing I'd get lost in the forest. I took home a small rabbit that day, we hadn't had meat for months, so it honestly looked like a full course meal, like the one we were served in the tribute train.

My mother isn't the greatest cook, so she burnt a couple of bits, mainly the thighs. But it still filled us. The woods became my second home, escaping the sad atmosphere my mother gave off and the pressure the Peacekeepers would regularly make us feel. 

The hunting started slow, but each time I went under, I went deeper. I stole eggs from nests, jumped from tree to tree and managed to shoot a squirrel or two down. I struggled with the fish; my father would always throw his dagger to the fish with little to no effort. Whenever I'd throw mine, it would miss. It took me a couple of times to figure out the water distorts my vision.

The plants were no effort; I knew which one to pick, which ones were poisonous. The signs of danger used to terrify me back to the fence until I gathered enough courage to climb the tall trees, then I stuck with it, not liking the feeling of being chased. The wild dogs would always leave me alone after a while.

On July 15th, I finally signed up for the tesserae, carrying the first batch of grains and oils in the same broken bucket I used to gather those dandelions. I patched it up with some scrap bark. On the 15th of every month, I would put my name once again. I still had to hunt; grains weren't enough. We still needed soap, milk, thread and many more things we used to have. I began to trade in the hob, learning how to hold my tongue in the process. My father used to trade there as well; he used to do all the talking while I watched, stayed silent. 

And so I simply tossed the game I had to their tables. They caught on fairly quick; I'd only speak up when it came to bargaining or when I'd change what'd I'd buy. Or when I would insult wild dog soup. My father was a charismatic man, always able to persuade people to buy whatever. Not me, though, I was like a sore thumb. Painful, to talk to at least.

My mother wasn't very enthralled with the fact that I had been hunting, too much like my father, she said. That's when we argued, "Don't be stupid like your father!" she shouted. I remember my face contorting to anger, how my fists clenched as she continued to scream. 

I finally exploded, "Why don't you go out and get a job if you don't want me hunting, then? You'd rather we starve?!" I said, slamming the table. "I won't die, I won't end up like father! I won't be Capitol's pig, neither was he!" 

"But if you do die?" She argued back, tears flowing down her cheeks as she gripped both my shoulders. "I'm only thinking of you, Y/n!"

I scoffed, glaring at her, "If you're thinking of us so much, then why aren't you helping us?! If I don't die being accused of rebellion, then I'll die because of those stupid games because of you!"

"Don't blame me for this! It was your father's fault for being brash—" She reasoned, but I cut her off by pushing her off me. I stared at her as if she grew three heads. "They asked you," I whispered, "All you did was nod, you could've lied."

Her green eyes shook at my words, "Lie to the Peacekeepers? The Capitol? And get us killed as well?! I only what your father wanted," 

"They didn't have anything on father! It was your voice that gave it away! It's your fault that he's dead, now we're over here starving because you can't get over yourself—"

Then there was a sting on my cheek. She had slapped me. My eyes landed on a crying Kunal; guilt surged through me, so I ran. I ran to the woods and slept on top of a tree, humming a soft tune to the mockingjays next to me. They listened and sung back. I fell asleep to their lullaby, surprisingly, not falling off.

I found my hand on the same cheek my mother slapped that day. I was going to die the same way I said, how ironic. I won't be able to apologize or tell my mother I loved her anymore. A sigh left my lips as I continued to stare out the window. 

I clenched my fists, punching the wall as my breath hitched. I let out a groan, holding the stinging part of my hand. I glared at the wall, grumbling under my breath before I decided to fall asleep, not wanting to think of my regrets and what I could've done. As I closed my eyes, I only hoped my dreams would be pleasant. 

"Up! Up! Up! It's a big big day!"

Effie Trinket's voice awoke me from my dreamless slumber. I groaned, muttering profanities as she left my compartment. I tried to imagine what it was like in that stupid wig--- well--- head of hers, it made my head hurt.

I had fallen asleep in the green shirt, causing it to become wrinkled, the. Not that I cared, there will be some stylist stripping me anyways. I shuddered at the thought of Capitol people touching me, what a nightmare. My eyes landed on the packet of cookies on my bedside table. I decided to grab it.

I entered the dining compartment, still half-lidded and yawning. Effie Trinket brushes me with a cup of black coffee. She was muttering obscenities, probably because of Haymitch. Peeta held a roll, looking somewhat embarrassed  "Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch said.

Peeta flashed me a smile, amused by how dishevelled I look. To be fair, I wasn't a morning person, I find waking up to be a tiring task. I rubbed my eyes, the packet of cookies still in my hands as I slid down the chair.

They served an enormous platter of food. I'd hate to admit it, but I was starving. So for the first time, I decided to stab it with the fork, not sure what to do with the cookies so I pocketed them. I figured I'd eat them much. . . much later.

I chewed slowly, glare on my face as my eyes struggled to remain open. I didn't even notice the orange juice next to me because of it. Peeta nudged me, handing me a cup of brown, rich liquid. It was quite warm. "They call it hot chocolate," he said. "It's quite good,"

My green eyes moved from him to the cup, then back to him. As if asking for permission. I sniffed, muttering a "thank you," before I took the cup from him. The moment the hot chocolate touched my lips I felt awake.

Not only was it hot, but it was also amazing. I've never tasted anything like this before. Coffee was a luxury, this I cannot even fathom. After I've drained my cup, I put it down and muster a sheepish smile. "Is there more?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Effie seemed to be excited by my sudden interest. "Glad you're finally appreciating the finer things," she quipped as another cup was passed to me. "Right," I responded, gripping the cup tightly.

I stopped eating when I felt somewhat full, only asking for more hot chocolate. Peeta is still eating, breaking off bits of roll and dipping them in his hot chocolate.

Haymitch hasn’t paid much attention to his platter, but he’s knocking back a glass of red juice that he keeps thinning with a clear liquid from a bottle. Judging by the fumes, it’s some kind of spirit. I don’t know Haymitch, but I’ve seen him often enough in the Hob, tossing handfuls of money on the counter of the woman who sells white liquor. He’ll be a mess again by the time we reach the Capitol.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," I said, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He grinned, "Here's some advice, stay alive," then he burst out laughing.

My brows furrowed, "Ha. Ha." I let out, unamused. I glanced to Peeta, surprised to see Hardness in his eyes. Usually, he looked mild. "That's very funny," he said as if adding to my remark. He suddenly lashed out at the glass in Haymitch's hands. It shattered, spilling the blood-red liquid on the floor. "Only not to us,"

Haymitch took this opportunity to punch Peeta straight in the jaw, knocking the boy out of his chair before turning around to reach for more spirits. I stopped him, driving a knife into the table, between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers.

I expected some sort of retaliation, but that didn't come. "Oh, well what is this?" he said. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Peeta rose from the floor and scoops up a handful of ice from under the fruit tureen. He started to raise it to the red mark on his jaw.

"No," Haymitch stopped him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you’ve mixed it up with another tribute before you’ve even made it to the arena."

"That’s against the rules," said Peeta. "Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren’t caught, even better," said Haymitch. He turns to me. “Can you hit anything other than the table?"

I shrugged, pulling the knife off the table. "Your head or. . ." I said, before tossing the knife in between the seams of two panels. If I was confident at one thing, it's my aim. But not so much with a bow.

"Stand over here. Both of you," ordered Haymitch, nodding to the middle of the room. We obey and he circles us, prodding us like animals at times, checking our muscles, examining our faces. “Well, you’re not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you’ll be attractive enough.”

Peeta and I don’t question this. The Hunger Games aren’t a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always seem to pull more sponsors. Though I do enjoy the fact that the stylists are likely going to have a hard time styling me.

"All right, I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t interfere with my drinking, and I’ll stay sober enough to help you," said Haymitch. "But you have to do everything I say,"

Of course, there's a catch. "Fine," Peeta said while I shrugged carelessly, sipping on my hot chocolate. "In a few minutes, we’ll be pulling into the station. You’ll be put in the hands of your stylists. You’re not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don’t resist," Instructed Haymitch

Oh, well there goes my plan on being a general nuisance. Damn you, Haymitch.

He takes the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. As the door swings shut behind him, the car goes dark. There are still a few lights inside, but outside it’s as if night has fallen again. I realize we must be in the tunnel that runs up through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains form a natural barrier between the Capitol and the eastern districts. It is almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. This geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to my being a tribute today. Since the rebels had to scale the mountains made them easy targets for the Capitol's air forces.

Peeta and I stood in silence. My finger raised, mouth opening but I decided it wasn't worth it and awkwardly shuffled to one of the windows. He seemed to have caught on, however. "Nice view, isn't it?" he joked.

"I guess if you're blind," I answered dryly, raising the warm cup to my lips. "Sophisticated darkness, my favourite type," I finished.

He chuckled, walking next to me, the train slowing on cue. My muscles tensed as the sunlight entered the compartment. It was blinding. After my eyes adjusted I finally saw the Capitol.

I would be lying if I said it wasn't beautiful. Rainbow hued buildings that tower to the sky, possibly beyond. Shiny cars rolling on the fancy, clean pavement streets. The cameras failed to capture its beauty. It would've been perfect if not for the fact that the oddly dressed colours, wearing blizzard wigs and painted faces exist.

They looked painfully artificial. I much prefer the natural tones of district 12. "Eugh, how do they look at themselves?" I muttered, catching the attention of Peeta, who chuckled at my comment.

Huh, I forgot that he was there.

The same disgusting people began to point at us, enthralled. I was sickened, they couldn't wait to watch us kill each other like wild wolves. I suppose that's better than ending up at soup.

I stepped back, a scowl on my face. No longer able to stand the obnoxious attires and the mocking smiles of scums. Peeta held his ground, smiling and waving at them.

He only stopped when the train stopped at the station, blocking up from their view. "Who knows?" he said. "Some of them may be rich."

My body seemed to freeze as I took one last sip of the now-luke warm hot chocolate. That's when I realized, I had misjudged him. Not that I can read people well.

Which made sense, if I could I would've known that his father visiting me, offering to help Haymitch only to challenge him and now, waving and smiling at those slugs. He had a plan in mind.

He hasn't accepted his death yet. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread was fighting hard.

And that terrified me.

word count: 2.8k

Hey guys! sorry for the long wait! Had to take a break!

tags;

@nin3s

[liddolwhynot2000]

Chains: Part 4

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Summary: Both times he's watched a woman hold his heart in their grasp, and walk away without it.

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Parings: Levi/Reader, Erwin/Reader

Genre: Angst, One Sided Love, regrets, heartbreak, death, I think I should stop being mean to Erwin woops

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ChainsPt1 ChainsPt2 ChainsPt3

Drabble#1

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Being a leader was never on Erwin's agenda, not when he started out in the military at least. But he accepted that the only way to achieve his goals was to rise to the top, because there was simply no one he could entrust his dreams to.

He's accepted his role as a monster, the villain who gets innocent soldiers killed for his goals. People throw stones at him, hurl slurs at him, and Erwin thinks it's okay. It's fine.

Someone has to play the devil. Someone has to step up and take the heat. Who better then the man who spouts words like fast acting venom, whose one inspirational speech sends their loved ones to their graves in a matter of minutes?

His own actions lit this fire. His determination to discover what's in that basement, his absolute ruthlessness, they all contributed in him sitting where he is right now.

A one armed, pathetic man, who can't even sit up on his own.

The physical exhaustion is taking its toll on him, messing with his mind. Half of him wants to retire, to settle down in peace. The stress of his job has taken its toll on him. Erwin firmly believes that he shouldn't be alive right now, that his punishment was supposed take place inside the stomach of a titan. Its sheer dumb luck that some soldiers, in their devotion to him, rescued him. Otherwise, his corpse would be rotting away outside the walls right now, missed by no one. He isn't dead right now, and he should be grateful.

Except Erwin wishes he was dead right now.

Most soldiers retire after losing a limb the way he has, but Erwin can't bring himself to take the easy way out. He wants it to be difficult for him- especially since all he's done is get others killed. Some sort of deity-God or whatever is out there, is the reason he's still alive. Was it a sign he should move forward? Or a sign that he should stop and rest? Maybe it was punishment for his lack of humanity. Erwin doesn't know and frankly, he doesn't want to know. Not when it has the potential to jeapordise the mission that gives him the will to breathe.

He comforts himself, reminding himself of his goals. He has to prove that his father was right about the outside world. His entire purpose for living all these years, for pushing and exhausting his soldiers, has to come to fruition. Their efforts couldn't be in vain, their deaths wouldn't meaningless. Erwin is alive to achieve this. His time in hell is waiting for him, but not yet.

Not until he reaches the finish line.

His resolve is a little strengthened, so Erwin allows himself to settle into the pillows. He welcomes the darkness as he closes his eyes, determined to get some rest. He convinces himself to stop wishing for his own death, and allows sleep to finally overcome him.

He also pretends that every fibre of his being isn't screaming for you to be here, sitting besides him, holding his hand.

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It's painful, watching you and Levi go around each other in circles. He remembers feeling like shit, having to watch the woman he wants as his own, engage in a soft courtship with someone else. The fact that he has to see Levi everyday at work makes it even worse, knowing that the short man holds the heart of the woman he desperately wants without even trying.

He had been in his position once too, except his loose hold had caused you to slip away from him.

Erwin's beginning to accept his situation, that he'll never have you. He's had several moments of weakness, where all he wants is to storm to your house and tell you how he feels. Beg you to forget about Levi and give him one last chance. But he knows it won't work.

He knows he'll only be making a fool of himself.

So he begins to chain up his own heart. The organ that keeps him breathing, making him live even when his mind wishes he wouldn't, he has to stop it from its philanderous ways. The traitorous thing kept opening itself up, presenting its vulnerability to others, even when he knows better. He's fooled himself one too many times that someone like him can actually love like a normal person.

First Marie, then you. He isn't sure he can take more of this, the hurt, the loneliness.

Both times he's watched a woman hold his heart in their grasp, and walk away without it.

In their defense, it's not like they callously threw it away. It's not like they didn't try for him. The problem wasn't them, the problem was Erwin himself. It was best for everyone if he kept himself on a leash from now on, locked his heart in chains that would take a lifetime to undo.

But, much to his despair, no chain is strong enough to completely keep everything he feels out. He tries and tries, yet when he's on the verge of passing out from overworking himself, he keeps seeing your face.

And he keeps wishing that his mind would stop taunting him about you, why can't he see you smile at him?

Why must he visualize you smiling at Levi, gazing at him as though he's your everything?

Why can't he, even if its delusional and entirely fabricated, see you as his?

Life really is too cruel.

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Having known Levi for so long, he isn't surprised by his threats anymore. He's made a habit of being as nonchalant as possible in the face of an irate Levi. It's the only way to keep the man in line and from slaughtering half the people that cross his way for breathing too loud.

He remembers how he and Levi started out, Erwin was the one who extended the olive branch and made a move towards friendship. Despite his concerns about Levi's interest in you, he stuck to his priorities as a soldier and made it a point to befriend the man who would later become the most brilliant soldier the military has ever had.

He doesn't regret it, by any means, not as far as his professional life is concerned. But a part of him, the one that perisistantly tears at those chains, insists that he should. It's a horrible voice, dripping with self loathing, that reminds him how back then, he still had the power to stop Levi from coming near you. Erwin shuts it down of course, because its been years now, and disregarding his prolonged infatuation with you, he does consider Levi his friend.

He's reminded that Levi considers him a friend too, as he tries to stop him from going on the expedition to reclaim Wall Maria. He makes valid points, and maybe if Erwin's goals extended beyond that basement, he would have agreed to sit this one out. To value humanity over himself again.

But he can't.

He's always been too selfish, too reckless. Uptil this point, all his goals have aligned with saving humanity. But the jig is up, Erwin can't pretend that he's a saint anymore. He's not fighting for humanity like Levi thinks he is, it's always been about fighting to sate his own curiousity. To justify his hand in his father's death.

Like a glass shattering, he can see this realisation dawn on Levi. His image of the pristine commander who gave it all up for humanity has been effectively ruined. He now sees Erwin for the piece of shit he actually is. All this time, Erwin imagines, Levi likely thought that Erwin had never pursued you out of obligation to his duty. That he was playing hero by sacrificing his personal wants.

He sees the hurt in Levi's eyes, the absolute betrayal clouding him. He can tell he's questioning everything, wondering how he had never seen through the Commander he had sworn his devotion to so blindly before. The short man is a master of not expressing himself much, so he doesn't let his thoughts show on his face. But Erwin knows that these few minutes have tainted their friendship.

He feels upset about it of course, but a part of him is glad. And as he watches Levi leave his office, his footsteps loud, he feels something akin to relief.

At least there's one person in this world who finally sees him for who he really is, who won't buy into his lies anymore. Someone who he can actually feel some shame in front of while giving out his orders. Someone he doesn't have to look in the eye to lie to and convince them of his intentions.

Even if it meant you would likely find out about it too. But then again, Erwin is a master at earning the hatred of others, to the point that he's sure most people pray for him to die in the most gruesome ways possible.

Although, it feels much more soul crushing to so much as think about you of all people looking at him like that.

The idea of you harbouring that hateful, disgusted expression others do towards him, is far more painful then when he lost his arm.

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In all his time in the Survey Corps, many things that should surprise Erwin, have not. Or at least, that's the impression he purposefully gives to the world. His mind is practical, often choosing to immediately think of how to utlize the information he's learned in the best possible way. He's never shocked, never hesitant on planning what's next.

But today, for the first time, he's speechless. There's no plan of action to think of, no battle to jump into. There's no enemy he needs to deal with either. All he has to do is control the chains in his heart, and their increasingly dull resistance.

He's already had to accept that he's lost all of his chances with you, that you'll never look twice at him again. But now, it's even worse. Even his heart can't afford to ache for you, because you're pregnant.

It's history repeating itself at its finest really. He wasn't even this heartbroken when you and Levi got married, having coped with his loss with another binge drinking session and a meaningless one night stand where he could only see you. But this hurts too much, even for a strong man like him.

Erwin is used to being on the recieving end of bad news, so he smiles at Levi and congratulates him with a smile that's seen better days. He ignores the knowing looks from Hange, and the cool indifference with which Levi accepts his well wishes, all the while giving no indication of how he truly feels.

He makes himself follow his routine, to go to his office and work on his papers, and not grab a bottle of alcohol like he wants too. He goes on to solidify the plan for the upcoming mission, and not dwell on the idea of you becoming a mother to a child that's not his.

He works well into the night, before his bones grow weary and his hands scream at him to stop writing. He does his best to convince himself he doesn't need to sleep yet, but ultimately gives in and goes to bed. He thinks of the mission again, while drifting in and out of his dreams

As he embraces the darkness of sleep, Erwin wonders if a man whose dead inside can even classify as being alive.

Because if he survives the mission, it'll only be a victory for his body.

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Levi knows him too well, Erwin concludes to himself, as the short man kneels before him.

'.. I order you to die..'

The last time he was ordered to do something was by Commander Shadis, and no ones ordered Erwin around since then. He's been in the military for a long time, he knows how to give and take orders without feeling much. Its been a while since someone looked at him so fiercely and told him to do something no questions asked.

It should irk him, like it secretly used to before. Infuriate him even, that he's worked so hard to get to the top, only to have to be ordered about.

Instead, he's relieved. This order is the first in his life that's brought him so much relief, that's offered him an escape from his demons. His cell in hell is wide open for him, the guard impatiently waiting for the prisoner arrival.

Erwin has no plans of keeping him waiting any longer.

He smiles at Levi, and thanks him out loud. Because Levi has just saved him. He no longer has to be the demon that bears too many sins to count, the bastard that everyone looks to for orders. He'll finally be free.

Free of all responsibilities, of the burden of leadership, of being such a monster. And most importantly, Erwin almost giddily notes to himself, free of watching you and Levi create the family he wants with you.

He's grateful to Levi, who looks at him with a solemn expression. He doesn't want him to die, but if there's anyone who knows why Erwin is so okay with this order, it's Levi. The two of them look at each other meaningfully, aware they don't have the time to say more.

Erwim thinks his eyes manage to get across at least one message.

Take care of her Levi

Because Levi's eyes had looked like they were saying something too.

Of course I will

As he yells and charges towards the Beast Titan, spurring his cormades to do the same, he feels something shift inside of him. The chains stop rattling, going deathly silent. They don't loosen or untangle themselves. Rather, they disintegrate completely, not leaving behind even a speck of dust, let alone any evidence that they had existed before.

It makes him feel light, and fittingly enough, free.

In his last moments, time slows as he sees that rock heading in his direction, he knows his time has come to an end. It feels like ages past in those precious seconds, because he sees you.

He sees your pretty smile, hears your sweet laughter and envisions you standing in front of him, wearing that white dress, and vowing to love him forever. It's a sight that's so wholesome, that maybe he could have died with a smile on his face.

But he doesn't get to be lucky, not after selfishly playing the role of a monster his entire life. Before his lips can curl to express that one emotion, every part of him suddenly hurts. His vision goes black, leaving him aching to see you again for just one more second.

When he wakes up, he's in an endless void, surrounded by metal bars and, ironically enough, wrapped up in chains.

He's dead, and he knows it. Erwin can only bitterly chuckle at the beginning of his well deserved punishment.

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A/N: Surprise!! 🎉. Heyooo! I know I said part 4 will be fluff, but in my defense, I just couldn't get the idea of exploring Erwin's heartbreak before he dies out of my head. I have tagged a smol fluff drabble between Levi and reader, set in Chains. It's right here. So do read that!

How much did you guys like that? I felt kinda emotional writing it 😅

[celestialmark]

Lacuna - Part One

- Characters: Johnny Suh x reader, members of nct - Category: single parent au, fluff, slight angst  - Word count: 4.8k - Warnings: none - Navigation: prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue - Author’s notes: enjoy <3 

“Okay something definitely happened at that gala.” 

Taeyong is watching your every move as you pace back and forth your kitchen, grabbing necessary items to make him coffee. He’s sitting by your dining table with brows raised and arms crossed across his chest, analysing your strange behaviour. When you finish pouring the coffee in the mug you set it down in front of him and turn your back on him once again to get started on the dishes piled up on the sink. 

“Y/n, stop avoiding me.” 

“I’m not avoiding you.” 

“You’re avoiding my questions.” 

“What questions?” 

You hear Taeyong sigh behind you. “Stubborn, as always.” You dismiss his comment by continuing with the dishes, hissing in pain when the water from the tap is too hot. You draw your hand back almost immediately and Taeyong rises from his seat in less than a second. He walks over to you and inspects your now raw and red hand, blowing cool air on it gently before you’re retracting it from him and hiding it behind your back. 

“Now will you tell me?” Taeyong prods, leaning against the sink, searching your already panic-stricken features. “Did Doyoung confess?” 

You snap your head towards him, “Confess? Doyoung?” 

“What?” Taeyong asks again, face contorting. “Why is that a surprise to you?” 

“Because why would he confess? Confess what?” 

Taeyong’s mouth falls open, “That he likes you? As if he hasn’t made that obvious to you already?”

“He doesn’t like me,” you deny and tear your eyes off him to stare out the window above your sink. “No way he would.” 

Taeyong rolls his eyes and you see it from the corner of your eye, “For someone who’s pretty smart, you’re actually pretty dumb.”

You drop your shoulders at the same time you release a sigh, lowering your head and resting your hands on the edge of the counter, memories of last night flashing right before your eyes you have to physically close them just to unsee it all. 

“If it’s not Doyoung, then what is it?” Taeyong asks, his voice quieter and concern evident in his gentle tone. 

“It’s not a what, it’s a who,” you mumble. Taeyong doesn’t say anything and you know he’s urging you to continue with the way he’s leaning forward to catch a glimpse of your face. “Johnny Suh,” you finally say, looking up, the name rolling off your tongue for the first time in so many years.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh again, your mind blank. “He was there at the gala, for a partnership with Doyoung.” 

“Oh.” 

You turn to face Taeyong, grabbing a towel from below to dry your hands completely. “You know Yong, it’d be really nice if you could say something else other than “oh”.” 

Taeyong blinks and bites his lower lip, “Well, I don’t know how to tell you this but.. I kind of knew he was back in the country.” 

“What?” You’re glaring at him by now as you place the towel back on the counter. “And you didn’t even tell me?”

“Y/n, I only found out two days ago,” Taeyong explains, taking a step back from you. “I was shocked too, I mean we didn’t have contact with him for what? Five years? I didn’t know how to tell you, plus you had other things on your plate, the gala and everything.” 

“How did you even know he was back?” 

“He got in touch with me. And the guys.” 

“The guys knew too?” 

Taeyong nods and presses his lips in a thin line. “Did you know he’d be at the gala?” You ask in a huff. 

Taeyong shakes his head. “No. All he told us was that he was back and that he wanted to meet us.” 

You press your index to your temple, feeling a slight headache coming on. Taeyong scurries to grab a glass nearby and fill it with water before handing it to you. “What.. happened at the gala?” he asks you cautiously and quietly. 

You down the glass of water in one go, hand the empty glass back to Taeyong and forcefully pull at a nearby chair and sit on it. Taeyong takes the seat beside you, leaning forward until he’s resting his elbows on his knees. “He asked me to dance,” you reply, picking at your fingers. 

Taeyong’s eyes widen and before he can even ask further questions, you interrupt him, “But we didn’t. Doyoung came in time and that’s when I got him to bring me home.” 

“So you didn’t talk?” 

You shake your head, “No. Though Doyoung did introduce us to each other. And it wasn't the most pleasant. I had to pretend like it was my first time meeting him. I swear I saw him glare at me from the corner of my eye.” You run a hand through your hair out of frustration. “The world is too small. I don’t want to live here anymore.” 

Taeyong consoles you by rubbing your arm soothingly, the sadness in his eyes serving as evidence of how much he feels for you. He knew you hated confrontations, you always ran away from them because you believed that as long as you didn’t acknowledge things, they’d never be able to touch you. But this was something that needed to be addressed and Taeyong knew that you knew that too. He thinks you just need a little bit of a push. 

“Are you going to tell him?” 

“What?”

“Y/n, he deserves to know. He has-”

“Good morning uncle Yong,” a small voice cuts Taeyong off from digging into the conversation any deeper. He tears is eyes off of you and immediately soften at the little figure standing proudly by the doorway clothed in a fresh uniform. 

Taeyong immediately stands from his seat and walks over to the little one with you following suit. “Hey buddy! Are you ready for school?” Taeyong asks as he crouches down to ruffle his hair.

The child nods with a grin, “I am. I’ll just say bye to mommy,” he replies and walks away from Taeyong to make his way over to you.

You instantly wipe away the dazed look on your face and shift your focus onto the figure waddling over to you. You bend down to match his height and you are met by his little hands reaching out to you for a hug. “Have fun in school today okay? Be kind,” you remind him as you give him a tight squeeze. His laugh resonates in your ear and your heart melts. “I love you,” you says as you let him go and fix the straps of his bag on his shoulders.

“I love you more mommy,” he says smiling and eyes twinkling at you.

You walk Taeyong and your child out to the car and wave him last one goodbye before you turn to your best friend who’s already staring at you with questioning eyes.

“I know Yong, I know,” you exhale, defeated.

He sighs in return, feeling guilty for adding to your worries and concerns. He brings an arm around you and rubs his palm on your back in a calming manner. 

“You know I’m always on your side. But you can’t hide forever. You know that too.”

“We hope you’re just as pleased as we are about this partnership, Johnny,” Doyoung says with a grin, buttoning the coat of his tux as everyone begins to pile out the conference room upon the completion of the meeting. 

Johnny smiles, his eyes forming crescent moons. “Of course Doyoung, it’s our pleasure. We can’t wait to have your furniture across our malls. And plus it was a reason to bring me back home, so I definitely have gained a lot through this.” 

“How many years did you say you’ve been away for?” Doyoung asks curiously, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. 

“Five years,” Johnny replies, a heavy breath escaping his lips, feeling genuinely elated to be back. “Feels much longer than that though.” 

Doyoung chuckles, “Well it isn’t easy being far from home.” 

Johnny falls silent and unconsciously begins to stare into nothing when he hears the word home with the distant thought of you somewhere at the back of his mind. Doyoung’s words ring in his ears again amidst the silence and he finds himself slowly nodding. 

“Yeah... it really isn't,” he mumbles. 

Doyoung leads the way and navigates through his company building towards the exit, continuing his conversation with Johnny about different business matters. When the two reach the entrance, situated by by the lobby, the automatic revolving doors just right in from of them, Doyoung stops in his tracks to face Johnny who does the same. 

“So what do you say, dinner? It’s on me,” Johnny offers, thinking that maybe Doyoung could be his first friend upon is return home. Plus, it had always been on his agenda to definitely get to know the people he does business with. 

Doyoung contemplates for a second before he’s giving Johnny an apologetic smile, “I’d love to.” He then takes a glance at his wristwatch that’s hidden beneath his sleeve. “But I have to pick up y/n from work. She should be finishing soon.” 

Johnny’s ears perk up at the mention of your name and unknowingly, he raises his brow, but brings it back down just in time so that Doyoung doesn't see. “Y/n?” 

Doyoung nods, “Remember y/n? She was at the gala. I introduced you guys to each other.” 

Johnny nods and feigns ignorance by pretending to finally remember. “Oh, yeah I remember her.” He plasters a smile on his face before he purses his lips into a thin line, his fingers beginning to twitch. “You guys... dating?” He’s not so sure what he’s trying to gain from asking the question, after all, it hasn’t been long since he’s known Doyoung and he was definitely in no place to pry into his personal life but the words are out even before he could prevent himself from saying them. 

Doyoung breathes a small chuckle and stuffs his hands in his pockets, blowing air out of his cheeks. “No, we’re not.” And somehow Johnny’s shoulders drop in relief unknowingly. “But I might as well ask her to,” Doyoung finishes. 

Johnny tries hard not to show the change in his expression by maintaining a straight face, angling his face upwards so that Doyoung doesn’t pick up on it. “You like her?” 

Johnny doesn’t even need a verbal answer because Doyoung’s smile says it all. “Yeah, something like that,” he says, a bashful hint to his voice. Doyoung clears his throat and stands up straight after realising his behaviour. “Unless, you’d like to come and have dinner with us? I'm sure y/n wouldn't mind.” 

Johnny is quick to shake his head and shrugs it off with a small smile, “Oh no, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. There’s always a next time. You guys enjoy your night.” 

“You’re sure?” Doyoung asks, slightly concerned, the thought of Johnny having dinner by himself popping up in his head. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

You’re waving at the four year old who’s last to leave the preschool premises as he runs to his parents. Doyoung pulls up just in time to see the scene and there’s a smile playing on his lips as he tears his eyes off the family who’s about to take off to land his gaze on you. You wave at him too and gesture for him to wait out here while you grab your stuff inside. It takes you no less than five minutes to come back out and you find Doyoung standing outside, looking at the trees that  surround the humble building. He’s quick to take your bag from you and you don’t even notice as you fall into conversation with him about the occurrences of your day. 

“Fancy anything specific for dinner?” Doyoung asks as he begins to drive. 

Taeyong’s words suddenly echo in your head and as you watch Doyoung’s side profile from the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but think if Taeyong’s assumptions were right. It was either that, or Doyoung was just extremely nice enough for him to go out of his way to pick you up from work every now and again. But then again, Taeyong does that. Jaehyun does that. And Ten does too, and they most definitely do not have any feelings for you. 

“Y/n?” Doyoung calls out when he momentarily catches you staring at him. 

You snap out of your daze then, convincing yourself you were overthinking and way ahead of yourself. This should be the last thing on your mind right now, “I’m sorry, you were saying?” 

“Dinner, is there anything you’re craving?” Doyoung repeats, blinking onto the road ahead. He turns to you again briefly, “Everything okay?” 

You nod too quickly and keep your eyes ahead on the road, “Y-yeah.” You feel your stomach ache with uncertainty then, the mere thought of the possibility of Doyoung harbouring any sort of feelings for you making you feel unsettled. “Doie, I think I'm going to skip dinner tonight. I’m really sorry.” 

Doyoung nods understandingly, “Are you sure everything’s okay?” 

“Yeah. I’m just, tired.” 

“Alright. Let’s get you home.” 

“I’m just picking up some groceries,” You say into the phone that’s tucked between your cheek and your shoulder, picking up a bag of potatoes. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Take your time,” Jaehyun says on the other line. “No rush at all, we’re having fun over here.”

“You know I’m beginning to think my own son likes you more than he likes me,” you laugh and continue to weave in and out of the supermarket aisles.

“Well, I’m really good with children,” Jaehyun says proudly.

You rolls your eyes playfully. “Yeah well anyways, talk to you later. Thanks again Jae.”

“Safe home Y/n.”

It takes you another half an hour to pick up everything you need, from basic ingredients for everyday food, general necessities needed at home, to your son’s daily snacks for school. You’re about to head towards the cashiers when the news headlines catch your attention on the TV hanging on the ceiling in the middle of one of the aisles. You hook the basket on the crook of your elbow and fixate your eyes on the LED screen. On it, you find Johnny all suited up in grey, entering a building with a man you remember to be his dad.

“Suh Youngho, the only son of Suh Hyuk, to take over Suh industries by the end of this year,” the headlines wrote. You almost don’t recognise him then and there because of his unfamiliar demeanour. He had a taught expression on his face, hair completely out of his face, and stature well composed. It reminds you of the night of the gala, only then, he looked so much more at ease. He looked like a real businessman; so far from the Johnny you once personally knew; the one who was always smiling, goofying around, dressed in more casual everyday clothes. But then you realise he was the Johnny you remember from five years ago, and you come to a conclusion that maybe in the span of that time, he’s grown to change into this person.

“Y/n?”

You snap your head towards the direction of the voice that had just called you. Your eyes fall to the man who had just been in your thoughts seconds ago. Johnny shifts his gaze from you to the TV he had found you watching and he suddenly feels embarrassed when he finds himself being the centre of the headlines.

“Johnny, hi,” you manage to reply, not being able to help yourself eyeing him from head to toe because your previous thoughts perfectly matched the situation right now. It’s been two weeks since you saw him last and today, Johnny’s wearing a cap over his head, a plain white shirt grazing his torso and pair of black jeans hugging his lower body. Looking at him now, nobody would ever suspect he’d be next in line to manage one of the country’s biggest and most powerful companies. Your eyes catch the bottle of water in his left hand and a black plastic bag hanging in his fingers on the other.

“You’re on the news,” you suddenly blurt out in the midst of your attempts to calm your thoughts.

Johnny smiles a small one. “Yeah- I didn’t know the press would release the news that fast. I only found out a few days ago.”

You find yourself nodding at his words and when his eyes dart to your basket, full of children’s snacks, you get the sudden urge to hide it away from him. So you tug it away slightly and hide it by your side.

“We never really got to talk in the gala,” he says, your heart slowly picking up its pace at the reminder of you pretending not to know him. “How have you been?” 

You find yourself nodding profusely for some reason and you feel your palms begin to sweat. Johnny eyes you closely and doesn’t even take his eyes off you even for a second, “Yeah, I've been well, thanks for asking,” you reply even when the shakiness in your voice says otherwise. “Yourself?” 

Johnny smiles nonetheless with a nod of his head, “Good, thank you.” 

“What brings you here?” he asks again, smiling.

“Groceries. There’s no food left at home,” you half chuckle. “And you?”

“I had this sudden craving for spicy rice cakes on the way home,” he replies, gesturing at the plastic bag in his hands. “And this was the first place I came across.”

A soft laugh escapes your mouth, “Tastebuds missing it here huh?”

Johnny nods, “Tell me about it.”

Silence envelops the two of you for a few seconds with you two just standing there, staring at each other and the only difference was that Johnny’s smile only seemed to broaden as the seconds passed while you remained expressionless, trying to figure out what could be running through his mind. But his smile disappears almost immediately when he remembers his conversation with Doyoung from weeks prior and begins to contemplate if it’s a topic he should bring about. But he decides against it because it was too soon and he didn’t want anything to ruin the atmosphere. After all, it’s been five years and that’s a long enough time for him not to have the right to meddle in your business regardless of your past together. 

“Well, I guess I should get going,” you announce finally.

Johnny nods and takes a step closer to you, “Oh here, let me help.”

You don’t even realise Johnny taking the basket from you and securing the handle in his hand because you’re too engrossed with how he’s gotten too close to you for a mere two seconds. Still, you don’t protest when you fully grasp the situation and lead the way towards the tills instead. Johnny follows you silently and unloads your basket when you arrive at a free till. You avoid his eyes when he empties your basket completely, fully aware of how he’s examining the contents of the object that he’s set aside neatly. Johnny doesn’t ask any questions though and you mentally thank him. He takes it upon himself to collect everything inside your grocery bag and after you’ve paid for everything, he carries it and makes the effort to bring it all the way to your car.

“Thanks Johnny. You really didn’t have to,” you say when he finishes putting the bag into the boot of your car.

Johnny smiles and straightens himself after shutting the door close. “It’s nothing. Don’t mention it.”

“Drive safe, okay?” You say to him, returning his smile.

Johnny nods, “You too Y/n.” You’re about to turn away from him to make your way to the driver’s seat when he speaks again. “Let’s uhh.. grab coffee sometime?”

The sudden offer catches you off guard and it’s obvious in the way your limbs grow weak. There’s a bashful smile playing on his lips and a tint of red spreading on his cheeks to match it. Nostalgia seeps through your bloodstream and a part of you wants to say no, fearing for what it might entail, but the other part, the bigger part, pushes you to say yes, secretly intrigued in what coffee might have in store.

“Okay.”

Johnny asks for your number that night and when he dials your number for his to be saved on your phone, you realise it’s the exact same number from five years ago.

“So you’re staying for good?” Ten asks as he takes a bite of his pizza.

It’s a Friday night and the much awaited reunion with Johnny was finally happening in Ten’s house. It reminds Johnny of the old times, of when they were all much younger and caught each other everyday for lunch in university, of when they were all just trying to come to terms with adulthood. Sitting on the table surrounded with friends he spent the most crucial years of his life with makes him feel nostalgic yet happy at the same time. It’s been too long he thinks, it has been way too long. 

Johnny takes a sip of his soda and nods shortly, “Yeah. It seems so.”

“That’s good,” Jaehyun, who’s sitting beside Johnny at the round table, grins. “Glad to have you back John.”

Johnny smiles gratefully as he lands both of his palms on his thighs. He sits up on his seat then, straightening his back. “So what did I miss?”

Being the sharp person Johnny is, he doesn’t miss the way Ten and Jaehyun share a quick glance at each other across the table. He raises a quick brow but doesn’t prod.

Ten smiles awkwardly and turns his body to Johnny who’s expecting an answer. “Nothing much really.”

“Y-yeah,” Jaehyun butts in. “Nothing interesting happened while you were gone.”

Johnny laughs and playfully raises a brow at the two. “You sure? You guys look guilty.”

Ten opens his mouth to say something when the ringing of the doorbell echoes through the house. He gets up almost immediately and looks more flustered than he intended to reveal. Jaehyun shakes his head disapprovingly at his friend who is whizzing out of the kitchen and out to the hallway.

“Must be Taeyong,” Jaehyun mutters under his breath before he’s getting up to follow Ten as Johnny follows suit.

“Hey guys!” Jaehyun and Johnny hear Ten say by the front door. Johnny sees you and Taeyong standing by the door, greeting the host when he stops in his tracks just behind Jaehyun.

“Youngho be careful!”

Johnny’s ears perk up at the name that leaves your mouth and before he can train his eyes on you, a small figure runs past Ten and into Jaehyun who immediately scoops him into his arms.

“Uncle Jae I missed you!” he pipes up, making Jaehyun chuckle.

From where Johnny is standing, he sees the face of the child who has his arms wrapped around Jaehyun’s neck and is resting his head on Jaehyun’s shoulders. The child stares at Johnny, his big brown orbs blinking at the stranger.

You on the other hand, witness the whole thing and you have to grab a hold of Taeyong’s arm to steady yourself when you see Johnny inside. Taeyong glances at you and then at Ten and then at Jaehyun who’s absentmindedly entertaining the toddler. His eyes fall on Johnny who’s staring at the child intently, brows furrowed in the middle and expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were bringing Youngho,” Ten whispers apologetically to you, making you tear your eyes off Johnny.

You shake your head in response, feeling a slight comfort settle inside you when Taeyong’s palm rubs your back gently.

“No Ten, it’s fine,” you mumble though not quite convincing yourself or Ten. You certainly missed the memo that Johnny would be present tonight. 

You pretend everything is okay during dinner and the rest of the guys get your message when they do the exact same thing as you; pretend. There’s occasional laughter that burst at the table and you laugh along even when you don’t understand what the conversation was about to make it seem like you don’t feel the need to shrink under Johnny’s gaze who hasn’t left you ever since you sat down opposite him. You focus all of your attention to helping Youngho with his food, sitting quietly between you and Taeyong. Every now and then Taeyong would help feed Youngho just so you could have the opportunity to eat as well. You and Taeyong share silent glances at each other and it mostly consists of Taeyong raising his brow at you in pure concern, knowing all too well just how tense you are right now.

“Mommy, I’m full,” Youngho says when you attempt to feed him another spoonful.

You nod absentmindedly and reach across the table for a napkin that’s too far for your reach. Johnny, who’s been watching you this whole time, leans forward to grab the stack so that he can hand it to you. The chatter stops momentarily and everyone’s eyes falls upon the two of you as you take the object from Johnny, muttering a soft thanks in the process. When you settle back in your seat, you wipe away the excess food that had settled on your son’s lips. Youngho smiles at you then and you smile back, grateful that he made everything feel better even without him knowing, and even at such a nerve-wrecking time.

Jaehyun who’s sitting beside you, lands his hand on your arm and uses his thumb to rub it. You are met with soft eyes and dimples and you manage to give him a small smile, bringing your hand to land on top of his as a token of gratitude for his silent acts of comfort.

“So Johnny, I heard about Suh industries,” Taeyong says and it’s only this time that Johnny tears his gaze away from you. “That’s some amazing stuff.”

“Thanks Tae,” Johnny starts. “Actually, me and the guys were just talking about it before you arrived, looks like I’m staying for good,” he finishes and spares a quick glance towards your direction, one that you catch.

You feel Youngho shift in his seat and a second after, you feel him leaning towards you. You lean towards him when you realise he wants to say something to you. “Mommy, who is he?” he attempts to whisper in your ear, but it comes out much louder and you’re sure everyone else heard.

“Baby, he’s an old friend of ours,” you whisper back in his ear. When you sit back on your chair properly, everyone is staring the you and Youngho who’s innocently looking towards Johnny’s direction, in pure curiosity.

“I’m Johnny,” Johnny says suddenly, smiling at your son. Youngho only blinks up at him, the unfamiliarity of the stranger making him hide behind Taeyong’s arm. “I’m a friend of your mom’s. and your uncles’.”

Ten eyes you carefully and you nod at him, reassuring him you’re okay.

“What’s your name?” Johnny asks and you close your eyes momentarily before gazing at your son who by now has scooted fully towards Taeyong’s side. You wait for your son to answer and you hold in your breath.

“Y-Youngho,” your son replies.

You’re the first to excuse yourself for the night when Youngho falls asleep in Jaehyun’s arms. You’re unsure about the turn of events, especially after tonight but seeing Johnny tonight really sucked the energy out of you and so all you want to do right now was to get away and not think for the rest of the night. You know there are questions that need to be raised and issues that need to be cleared but for a second time, tonight at least, you choose to run away.

“Thanks for the dinner Ten,” you say as you give him a hug by the front door of his house.

Ten responds by hugging you tighter, “Thank you for coming, and I’m really sorry about tonight,” he murmurs into your ear.

When he lets go of you, you only smile at him, knowing all too well that nothing was his fault.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Taeyong asks as you reach up to hug him next.

“I promise we’ll be okay,” You reassure him, hugging him a little longer so that the nerves inside of you would calm.

Taeyong caresses your hair and tighten his arms around you when he feels you not letting go anytime soon, “You did really well tonight. And don’t beat yourself up too much alright?”

You nod against his shoulder before peeling yourself away from him. Johnny only smiles at you when you reach him next and it’s a smile that knocks air out of you. You awkwardly shift in your spot, not really knowing what to say to him because you knew. You knew that even when he’s here, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, he had burning questions that needed to be answered by you.

“We’ll get going then,” you say, earning a nod from him.

You don’t say anything more as you turn on your heels to walk out of the house and towards your car with Jaehyun carrying Youngho in his arms.

“What a night, huh,” Jaehyun says after he straps the sleeping Youngho into his car seat.

You exhale a breath and feel your shoulders slump out of exhaustion. “What a night indeed.”

“You think he knows?” Jaehyun asks softly when he embraces you.

Your limbs feel weak beneath Jaehyun at the thought and focus on inhaling the lavender scent of his shirt instead.

“I have no idea.”

[itsmattsunshinehere]

Hello!! I was wondering if you could do a scenario with matsukawa and a shy reader? They get paired up for a project and matsukawa has never spoken to her bc she’s always quiet but as he gets to know her, he finds out she’s actually really funny bc she sends memes and they eventually fall in love 🤧 abit cliche but I’d love it 👉🏼👈🏼

Of course I can! I love Mattsun, so I’m always happy to write something with my sweet angel :)

I didn’t know how to put memes so there aren’t any BUT actually there are some nerdy jokes (wich I adore), like really really bad jokes. I kinda have the feeling Matsukawa only know these lmao, he’s dumb (BUT WE LOVE HIM). I hope it’s okay for you, please don’t hate me.

Thanks for your request, hope you like it! 😘💘

-L

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

A Change of Heart.

Matsukawa Issei x reader

synopsis: Matsukawa has never spoken to you, but something changes after you two being paired together for a school project.

word count: 2.1 K

tags: fluff

~~~

Matsukawa Issei. Of all the possible people, he was the last of your classmates you thought you could be paired with for group project. You don't have any problems with him, you don't find him annoying or anything else, it’s just that sometimes you forget about the presence of some of your classmates, Matsukawa included: you are a shy girl and you almost never talk during lessons; you often get distracted thinking about your own business, it is normal for you to not notice the people you don’t talk to, even more if they tend to be as quite as you.

On his side, even Issei hasn’t noticed you, too busy sleeping a few desks away from you: the night before he went to bed late, staying up until one o'clock only to play computer games with some friends.

Anyway, he's your science project partner and you can't do anything about it, even if you prefer to work alone and organize everything to your liking all by yourself, you'll have to collaborate with him and as you, even the guy agrees that for the sake of your GPA it will be essential to try to get along and cooperate. That's why at the end of the class, before your math teacher arrives, your project partner comes to your desk.

"Good morning Matsukawa-san." You greet him shyly, his height puts you slightly in awe, you’ve never noticed how tall he actually is.

"’Morning Y/N-san, apparently we are project companions." He replies to you yawning a little distracted, without looking too sure on what he’s saying; you get the impression that he would like to have been paired with someone else, probably one of his friends, but you try not to pay too much attention to your thoughts.

"Yes, that's correct." You nod looking at him again with a patient smile on your lips.

"I thought that maybe we could exchange our phone numbers to organize on what to do and when to see each other." The boy still keeps his eyes away from yours not looking at you but rather looking up at two of your classmates who are throwing a ball just a few feet from you. You smile at him once more and take your agenda, ripping off a sheet, and after writing some numbers, you give it to him.

"Here to you, I am almost always free every afternoon after six. How about starting in two days, maybe this Wednesday? Is it okay for you?" you ask him, and after thinking about it for a few minutes, as if he were consulting his own agenda mentally, the boy in front of you nods and after greeting you, he turns back to his desk.

You didn't think there were people quieter than you. Or maybe he thinks you’re boring. But what could you have done to him to make you so annoying? You put aside your bad thoughts and focus on the rest of the lessons, more concerned about your grades than the idea that your partner has of you. Of course, sometimes you tend to have no self-esteem, not trusting you’re decisions, but having never spoken to him, he has no reason to hate you, so you don't worry too much about what he might think of you.

But while you don't care about his thoughts, Issei can't say the same for himself: he's curious about what kind of girl you are, what a hobby you have... Why are you only free after six?? Are you in any club? Would you like to go to college? Are you moving to Tokyo next year as most of your classmates? He'd like to ask you so many questions, you intrigue him in a certain way, and he can't deny that you're a pretty girl. He finds adorable how you carry the pencil on your lips every time you stare at the sky out the window.

The two days pass fast, and from Monday you are almost immediately to Wednesday afternoon in the library, you waiting for him at the table on the corner and he who has to run because, due to Oikawa and his obsession with improving the whole team’s service, he is definitely late. The boy looks out the door of the room and rushes you to a table near the windows, listening to music with headphones in your ears and studying some subject. He joins you, slowing down the pace trying not to make any noise.

"Y/N-san." He calls you whispering, but you don't hear him, which is why he tries to get your attention by touching your arm as he sits by your side and you gasp surprised, causing him to giggle.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." You look at the boy with a gentle smile, moving your hand and telling him that he doesn’t have to worry.

“It's nothing, I was doing chemistry homework for tomorrow, but I can't calculate the reaction and find the name of this binary salt.” You say giving up your homework, changing the page of the book and taking the section assigned to you for your work.

"You know chemists are great solving problems? They have all the solutions." Matsukawa replay with a smile, taking your notebook and looking at what you've written.

"I tried telling a chemistry joke once, but I got no reaction." You watch the boy with a grin as Matsukawa lifts his head up surprised, definitely not expecting a joke from you, but you instead look at him laughing at his expression and Matsukawa gives you a sincere smile chuckling.

Time passes quickly as you organize your project and decide what and how to expose it to your classmates. You divide your work and begin your research together, each one giving his own contribution to the other, to try to make it better and giving a sense to what you are doing. When you look at the phone you realize that it is now seven and a half o'clock in the evening and you inform your project partner, who nods and you two begin to pick up your books. Matsukawa is faster than you, so waits for you at the library entrance.

"Y/N-san, I wanted to ask you a question." He tells you while he’s walking by your side, and you can't help but think about how many centimeters there are between you two. You nod kindly with your head.

"How come you never talk? You're funny." He asks you a little hesitantly, and you think for a second about what to answer. You don't know that either, it's not that you don't have any friends, it’s just that you're not the kind of person who starts a conversation. You have no problem talking to others, you just don't like to take the first step.

"Sorry, maybe I was too rude." Matsukawa says softly, worried that he has maybe offended you in some way, but you shake your head with a smile, trying to make him understand that he didn't do anything wrong.

"No don't worry. I can't give you an answer, I think it's just my character. I'm a very shy girl and I tend to stand all by myself, but I've never had a problem talking to people. Once I know someone, I have no problem opening up." you answer him by giving him yet another smile of the day.

Matsukawa looks at you as you walk past him and reach the school gate: part of him that morning had been convinced that he would be bored with you, he felt like you were a serious person, unable to make jokes or something similar. Yet you have happily surprised him, showing a side of your character that you keep secret and that maybe you only show to your closest friends. He feels a bit special.

You reach the gate and you greet him by according to meet at Friday at the same time and so on the following Monday, ending up meeting on those three days every week throughout the entire month, in the library at six in the afternoon.

It has become a habit for you, as well as exchanging messages, during lessons or in your free time. You start spending more and more time together, on lunch breaks you join Matsukawa with his friends in the school canteen, having fun joking with Hanamaki. Matsukawa feels that something has changed. He understands that he has started looking at you differently, seeing you always beautiful and always happy. He understands it from how he has started to notice details on your face; that little mole on your chin, how you tie your hair when you're focused on some math exercise.

A change in his heart.

He starts to think that yours are no longer just moments where you study, but that they are slowly evolving into something more intimate, much more like dating, where you joke and talk about anything. As you tell him how you would like to travel the world, he tells you about the few places he has visited abroad; while you talk to him about the reading club you're a part of, he tells you about his passion for volleyball and his dream of going to the Nationals tournament with his team. You unravel your secrets to each other, without fear, fully trusting each other.

Until one day, when Iwaizumi seeing him smiling atone of your message suggests him something, a particular idea that remains stuck in his head for days.

"You should ask her out." The ace tells him with conviction and the middle blocker looks at him doubtful, not too convinced that you may be interested in dating him.

"Definitely, you can’t take your eyes off her and you're always distracted. Push your pride aside and make the first move before someone takes her away from you." Hanamaki speaks by sitting on the bench next to him and taking a sip from his water bottle. Matsukawa bursts into laughter, though he can't deny that a certain annoying feeling has awakened in him. Maybe jealousy? Impossible, unless...?

The days pass and the date of the presentation of your project approaches, until you arrive at the last Friday before you have to expose your work in front of the whole class, Iwaizumi's words have not yet disappeared from Issei’s mind, as well as those of Hanamaki. What if someone realizes what a beautiful person you are and asks you out? Maybe he should make a move, or maybe they just told him to annoy him... he walks through the corridors until you reach the library that you have been frequented for just over a month. He sees you sitted in your usual place with the usual headphones in your ears and the usual chemistry notebook under your eyes.

He comes near you, moving the chair next to you and sitting to your right and you as always don't even notice him, too caught up in what you're doing. He touches your arm and as always you gasp, quickly turning towards him, while Matsukawa giggles for your reaction. You tongue out and punch him on his shoulder.

"You know you scare my Issei!" you scold him while once again the boy next to you takes your notebook and looks at what's wrong with your equations, remembering when few minutes before you text him that you couldn't do anything.

"Here you go. You miscalculated." Matsukawa answers by giving you back your notebook.

"Forget hydrogen, you're my number one element!" you smile him while he giggles a bit.

"Oh, it's that time of the day where we tell each other stupid chemistry jokes?" he asks you chuckling and you nod happily.

"Well I hope you love science, because tonight we are going to have a chemical reaction." The boy immediately answers you and you can't hold back a laugh, getting the attention of the last remaining students that like you are study and the librarian, who throws you glances from behind her desk. Embarrassed, you apologize and look over Matsukawa, while the boy has a sip of water.

"How about you ask me out first?" you whisper him, blushing instantly, and the boy almost chokes with water and begins coughing, while you try to help him, this time you're the one giggling for the other’s reaction.

Once calmed down, Matsukawa looks up at you, as red as you. Did you really say that? He tries to think of what to answer quickly, not wanting to waste the opportunity.

"There’s a Cafe where they make delicious pancakes." He proposes you embarrassed and you look at him happy, beginning to pick up your books under Matsukawa's eye.

"It’d be amazing." You stand up slowly, sticking your hand out with a smile. Matsukawa copies your movements and gets up taking his backpack. He squeezes your hand with a wink.

“Let’s go.”

[lilwenney]

looking for affection in all the wrong places (ii)

pairing: will x female!reader warning(s): alcohol, swearing, general banter, kissin’ boys, oh and stephen tries is drunk word count: 4k  a/n: part two of five, part one can be found here / things!! get!! interesting!! so we have finally began the rising action part of the story and things get a bit heated in more ways than one ;) this was one of my favorite parts of the entire story for the longest time. anyways i hope you guys enjoy x 

London, England December 2019

“I don’t know what I’m gonna wear!” 

“A dress! A skirt! Those denim shorts you bought last week-”

“It’s December, Cleo,” 

“And you were the one who bought them in December!” She called out with an eye roll. “And you know, a hoe never gets cold,” Cleo said, mimicking the video that plagued the girls’ group-chat every Friday night from October until May. 

(Y/N) groaned at the infamous quote and pulled out the first article of clothing she spotted on her wardrobe rack - a black bodysuit, bought months ago while lounging on her sofa with a hangover, but that didn’t stop her from planning her next party outfit. It came in handy during the times she had no idea what to wear, just like this night. 

Sliding on the black bodysuit and into a pair of denim jeans, she looked at herself in the mirror, spinning around, looking over her shoulder, posing, trying to catch herself from all angles to deem it worthy. 

“Have you seen my- oh, you look hot,” Cleo cut her own self off when she barged into (Y/N)’s room, welding a tube of mascara in one hand and an eyelash curler in the other. Panic written across her face as their eyes met. “Have you seen my mascara primer?” 

She nodded and pointed to the vanity across the room. “Had to borrow it. It should be with mine.” She said and Cleo slid over, searching through the makeup bags on the counter.

“Ah, found it,” Cleo said before looking back at her best friend who was posing in the mirror while tugging the shoulder-less top down to reveal more of her chest. She rolled her eyes. “If that top gets any lower for Adrian tonight-” 

“Oh shut it. I’m not wearing it for him.” 

“Who’s it for then?” 

“For myself, thank you,” she said, turning and grabbing a tube of lipstick off the small table, applying the finishing coat. “It’s my first night out since we split and I plan on looking good for no one else other than myself. So,” she paused, raising a brow, “hurry up so we can go.” 

“You can't rush mascara or perfection, love,” Cleo groaned before swiftly leaving the bedroom to her own.

The girls met in the living room fifteen minutes later, five minutes after they originally planned to leave. After sliding into heels, throwing lipstick, their own drinks, and IDs into their bags, they left their flat, whisking down to catch the Uber that had been waiting for them. They were usually good with driving to James’ flat, taking turns with drinking each week, but this Friday both girls planned to drink more than they could handle. It was supposed to be Cleo’s week to drink and (Y/N)’s turn to drive, but after a bit of heartbreak no less than 72 hours ago, Cleo gave her some slack and they split a drive across the city. How they would get home later was just up to the party gods. 

The vibrating bass of an Oliver Tree song led the girls right to the front door of James’ flat. 

The door was open, people popping in and out from the hallway, and they found themselves among those heading inside. They dodged the unfamiliar people that littered the space in the foyer, pushing inwards until they reached the center of everything and everyone in the living room - the multicolored lights revolving around the room, the drinks pouring behind them, dancing bodies filled the space between the sofas and next to the foosball table. Most house-parties didn’t truly start until 11 o’clock, but the height of these parties hit at 10 p.m. - better drinks, people not yet on the verge of blacking out, and better music. It beat going to a nightclub and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with people you didn’t know while downing an eight pound drink and dancing to yet another Rihanna remix. 

Like she was trained, her eyes instantly scanned the familiar space for Adrian, only for her mission to be cut short when James found her first, breaking away from his own girlfriend to greet them both. 

“Heyy!” She could tell he was already tipsy, borderline drunk, just like how the host of a party should be when everyone started to arrive. Laughing, she threw her arms around him and pulled him close, rocking from side-to-side before pulling apart and allowing him to hug Cleo, who stepped around from behind her. 

It was when she pulled back that she spotted him, but not because she was looking for him, but because he was looking for her. Adrian saw her come in, a light shine down onto her like she was the only person in the room, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she wore that off-the-shoulder top for him. 

Taking a step back while Cleo and James clashed in laughter and hugs, she looked at him, and her eyes followed his head as he looked down while a petite brunette leaned up to whisper in his ear. She felt her heart drop into her stomach and felt dumb for talking herself into believing he would come alone. Hell, the first time she met him at a party he had brought a date.

It was just a glance, tenths of a second, but it felt like an eternity. She needed something to distract her. Standing there, she decided that the pre-game bottle of rum wasn’t enough. She needed something a lot stronger in her system - she needed something that would make her dance, make her forget. 

When Cleo and James pulled apart, she grabbed Cleo’s hand and their eyes met through the flashing lights. “Come on, let’s go get a drink.” 

Cleo, the friend who was known to always be down for a good time, followed behind with no hesitation. She allowed (Y/N) to guide her through the bodies and straight to the table. They grabbed cups and made a concoction out of vodka and fizzy drinks, more vodka than anything else, and then downed them in just a few gulps. 

They poured another, this time to the rim, and carried the drinks to the floor while finding the rest of their friends with the intentions of working the room. Cleo spotted Becky in the hallway and nearly jumped over everyone to get to her and say hi, while leaving (Y/N) to sit on the kitchen island and talk to whoever came by. She chatted with Tobi and Josh and eventually Callum, and then Stephen stumbled (literally) around - it was Stephen who had his fair share of tequila shots, his eyes wild and laughter heightened, which made him much more ten times more fun than normal. 

“We just got back like two days ago!” Stephen called out as they talked about his trip to New York. “I’m still fuckin’ jet lagged but there’s no better time to get smashed then, aye?” 

She shook her head and his girlfriend, Zoe, leaned into her to speak over the music. “He won’t admit it but he threw up in the bathroom of a Broadway show after betting me he could eat an entire pizza by himself in half an hour.” 

While laughing, she raised her head and looked over everyone to see yet another familiar face, not uncommon in the flat, but this was one she hadn’t seen all night.

“William!” (Y/N) called out above the music, her face brightening, mostly due to the alcohol in her system, half due to the fact that she hadn’t talked to him since yesterday. The friend group was so close they often never went over 12 hours without talking to each other, barely 72 hours without being in the same room. 

She watched him, hovering above everyone else, push past circled groups and stop straight between her knees. He was tall enough to just be a few inches shorter even while she was perched on a tall kitchen stationary. 

“I didn’t know if you were coming or not.” She said, an arm sliding over his shoulders while he placed himself between her knees. His arm slipped around her torso, innocently letting his hand rest on the band of her jeans. 

“Ah, couldn’t resist it in the end. Had to come.” 

“Because you knew I would be here.” She teased with the biggest smile, digging a finger into his dimple, drawing a cheeky smile from him before he swatted her hand away. “Seriously glad you’re here though.” 

He leaned against her for support, “yeah, I was too,”

“And then Hanna walked in.” Stephen piped up, taking another sip from his drink, and Zoe slapped him on the arm. 

(Y/N) brow scrunched as the cup of vodka fell from her lips, glancing from Stephen and then back to Will. “She’s here?” 

Will let out a deep breath, using his hand to motion to the floor, but shrugged it off a second later. “With some bloke.” 

Using the height of the stationary to her advantage, she scanned the party, over each head, every face, until she finally spotted Hanna and her date. They were standing next to the coffee table, his arm around her waist while they talked closely, sharing a drink between them among the others who were dancing. 

“Well that’s a bit fucked,” she said under the music. 

Will nodded and looked up at her, pulling her apart from the conversation with Stephen and Zoe. “I saw Adrian too,” he said and she looked down at him, noting the way his hat shifted on his head, “now that’s a bit fucked.” 

She snorted at his repeated words. “Tell me about it,” 

“So how about we,” he paused, grinning, “go get some tequila shots?” 

It was normal for Will to pretend that things didn’t bother him, that he never let things get to him. Even though this time it was obvious he wanted to avoid all talk of his ex-girlfriend, they let it slide. The question wasn’t even really a question for her. Drinking and drinking and taking shots was the only thing in her agenda that night. 

“That’s a hard bargain you drive, William..”

“Stop talking like that and come on,” he said through small laughs.

He grabbed her hand and helped her hop down off the island, leaving her cup and the couple behind as they pushed through the throngs of people back to the drink table. It was actually a dining table, but tonight it served one purpose and one purpose only - the insane abundance of alcohol brought in to be stored and mixed. While allowing him to guide her, the effects of all of her drinks were starting to hit once and for all. The music was suddenly louder, the lights became blurry, her steps were a bit lighter.

It was the time in the night when it truly felt like a party scene from a movie - everyone dancing and laughing in slow motion, drinks spilling, the music becoming overpowering and propelling them forward. It was the moments that (Y/N) cherished the most. 

In the back of the room, she shouldered her bag and watched Will pour tequila into two small shot glasses that looked like cacti. He sat the bottle down and handed her a glass, keeping the other for himself. 

“To fuck all,” he finally said and she laughed, raising her arm. 

“To fuck all,” she repeated, clinking her glass with his. 

Bringing the small glass to her lips, she turned the bottom up, allowing the rich alcohol to slide down her throat, burning all the way down to her stomach. Her face twisted at the taste and so did Will’s, both laughing at their reactions seconds later. 

“Okay,” she said sitting the glass down and wiping the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, “again,” 

“Again?” His voice was heightened, face still scrunched from the taste. 

“I need something that will get me to dance here. And no amount of beer is going to give me the courage.” 

He smiled, popping the top off the bottle again, “okay, okay, one more, and then we’ll dance, yeah?” He poured the shots, handing her the same glass. “Here’s to… dancing?” 

“To dancing until someone plays Aitch?” 

“We’ll be dead asleep on a floor way before then.” 

It was only 12:30 a.m. to be fair. But more hours of drinking like this until someone played Taste would surely have them landed in a hospital. 

“Alright, to just dancing then, you knob,” she cursed back at him and he chuckled. 

They clinked their glasses together and slammed them back with no problem. On top of the drinks already in them, it didn’t take long for the effects of the tequila to take over. In the midst of the bodies, they were on the makeshift dance floor, dancing to the beat of every song as the alcohol coursed through their veins, as their heads spun. 

James had regained control of his own speaker from Alex and played from his playlist, which at the moment was filled with nothing but The 1975. He had saved all of their songs again in preparation for the upcoming show they were all attending, and this would have been good to practice to learn their songs if everyone going to the show wasn’t already pissed out of their minds.

The bass of She’s American thumped against the walls, surely granting them a noise complaint in the future, but the party carried on. (Y/N) danced among everyone, her hips rocking to the beat while she sang loudly. On the floor between the sofas, she could feel Adrian’s eyes on her. To be fair, his eyes hadn’t left her longer for three minutes the entire night - he was watching how she laughed with her friends, how easily she downed shots, and how she danced with the people she always told him were “just friends” for months.

She was well aware Adrian was looking when she turned to Will - Will’s hands shooting out to take hers as her body teetered and they laughed while she steadied her stance. Over Will’s shoulder when he stepped in closer, she could make out Hanna standing by the patio door, her eyes trained on them while they moved freely together.

“They’re watching us.” She thought out loud when the song changed to Give Yourself A Try. Gasps and shouts of excitement filled the room before more bodies filled the space between the two sofas, pushing everyone closer together. 

Will stood back to his normal height, eyebrow raised. “You want to give them something to watch?” He asked and she nodded innocently, not clear of exactly what his intentions were until he touched her waist. 

She followed his lead, allowing him to turn her around and step behind her, hands gripping her hips, guiding her back against his lap. The heavy beat of the song replaced the lyrics in her brain, and she rocked her hips against him to the fast tempo, the lights moving rapidly across their bodies. The idea of both of their exes watching drove them to make irrational decisions, and that included allowing them to dance this closely.

Leaning back against his chest, her arm snaked around his neck. Every move was a bad decision that night, so she was going to make all of them if it meant a little bit of revenge. 

“They made us jealous,” she whispered, head tilting back against his chest. Their breath was hot, mouths close. His eyes focused down on her, and her eyes flickered between his and his lips, then back up, “so let’s make them jealous.” 

His hand raised from her hip and grabbed her face, her hand on the back of his head, and they allowed their mouths to meet in the middle. He tasted like lime and she tasted like cherry chapstick and the tequila they had downed fifteen minutes ago, their heads were swirling. 

It was a harmless kiss, it wasn’t the first time they kissed after all. Another time, almost two years ago on a trip to Barcelona, they had too many drinks and spent the entire night after the club making out on the chaise lounge of their Airbnb while everyone else was asleep. It didn’t lead to anything and it actually became a running joke between them, because whatever attraction they had to each other, was only brought out through alcohol.

This night included. 

Because (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she would have turned around and pressed herself harder against him to deepen the kiss if there wasn’t a bit of something in her system. When she began to taste the alcohol on his tongue, the threads of her own sobriety started to weave together, and she knew this was a bad idea - kissing him like this, in a fit of petty revenge on their own exes who couldn’t help but watch on, their own anger boiling inside of them. But she didn’t care, in fact, she liked it.

When she stumbled back into the coffee table and their lips broke apart, it’s less than a second later that Will grabbed her arm and pulled her to the outskirts of the room, and her back was against the wall and his lips on hers again. That’s when she realized that maybe, just maybe, he liked it too.

***

When her eyes flutter open no less than five hours after she and Cleo stumbled back into their flat, the sun was already flooding her room through her sheer curtains. She closed her eyes again, shoving her head under the white duvet in an attempt to shield herself and her hangover from the world. No amount of painkillers or blue raspberry sports drinks was enough to fight off more or less than a dozen shots and a few drinks over the span of a few hours. 

From under the layers on her bed, she could hear Cleo down the hallway in the kitchen, flipping knobs on the stove, getting out plates. Cleo had always been an early riser no matter what the last night consisted of, and frankly, it was the worst part of being flatmates with her. She was just thankful that she made it to her bedroom and wasn’t on the sofa again, waking up to the sound of cupboards slamming at the ungodly hours of 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning. 

Cleo had found her under the covers an hour later - pushing her way into the bedroom with a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of Advil in the other. She laughed at the small ball bundled under the covers that was nursing a hangover and an upset stomach. 

“Hate yourself?” 

“What’s new,” she huffed, throwing her arms out and throwing the blanket off her. She squinted at the lights again, but her eyes adjusted quickly soon after. “What time is it?” 

“Almost ten,” Cleo said with a mouth full of toast, sitting down on the edge of her friend’s bed, holding out a plate of food. “Take a piece. I know you don’t want it, but you need it.” 

She knocked a couple tablets out of the bottle and handed them to (Y/N), allowing her to take them with the sports drink leftover on her nightstand. “Why are you up early this time?” 

“Because I didn’t drink as much as you did,” she said, taking the bottle back, holding it in her hand while she watched her shovel bread into her mouth. “And I think you are still drunk.” 

“Feel like hell,” 

“Yeah you’re still drunk.” Cleo laughed. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the traffic on the street outside their flat, to the crunching of the toast that made them laugh together a few seconds after. “So are you going to talk to me about it?” 

She raised a brow, knocking the crumbs off her hands off the side of her bed and placing the plate on the nightstand. “About what?” She asked, her mouth still full of bread. 

Cleo deadpanned, not believing the way she was playing off the events that happened just a mere few hours ago. The entire party was talking about it, or those who were stone-cold sober anyways, and on the nightstand her phone had been blowing up for at least an hour with texts and calls about it.

“Whatever happened between you and Will last night.” Cleo continued, remembering how she found them making-out against the wall in the living room. “Because I, for one, would like to know because… what the fuck, love?” 

Moments from last night flashed in the back of her mind - the burn of the tequila, the beat of the song, Will’s hands on her hips, her tongue in his mouth - and she slid down further into the bed, hands raising up to cover her face.

“No, no,” Cleo laughed, hopping up on the bed, straddling her friend’s waist. “You have to tell me. All of us are so confused because we all saw it and we have no idea what happened. One second I was banging back a shot and another second you were banging Will.” Cleo tried to pull her hands away from her face but only received a slap to her own hands and they both laughed. 

“Because I’m not sure either,” she said as Cleo dropped her hands. “It just… happened, you know?” 

“No, love, I don’t know. I don’t know how one goes from being a strong, independent single lady to making out with one of their best friends within well… an hour?” 

“It was the tequila shots, I tell you. They never did me well.” 

Cleo shook her head and rolled off the bed, her slippers hitting the carpeted floors. “Whatever, I’ll just tell everyone you did it to make Adrian jealous.” She said walking to the door. “And come eat breakfast, I didn’t bloody slave over a stove for you to not eat.” 

Her body stilled in the bed listening to Cleo’s explanation because in truth, that’s exactly what it was. A harmless kiss to make their exes jealous did turn into much more than that, but they were successful in the attempt. 

After seeing his ex-girlfriend kiss the friend she had always been closest too, Adrian and his date stormed out to the patio, and Hanna tried mimicking them, throwing herself onto her date in a desperate attempt to get Will to notice, but he was too busy with his own agenda to even give her a glance. 

When she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hands flat against her lower back, the way his mouth slid against hers. It reminded her of the trip to Barcelona, but it felt different. It felt like this time they were more than just two drunk friends making out on a whim. And now that she was (slightly) sobered up, she didn’t know exactly how to feel about it. Her already fucked up emotions were thrown in a loop of denial, repressed heartbreak, and confusion. 

When the door clicked shut, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and pressed the button to see the screen light up with notifications - texts, phone calls, tweets, anything and everything from those trying to reach her. 

Cleo Gallagher hi hi are you awake if you are come eat also what the fuck happened last night

Jorge Why the heck is will saying you snogged him 

James + epals alright who stole the inflatable penis from the bathroom 

She also woke up to a hefty Instagram block from Hanna, which made her double-check Adrian’s Instagram too, but his private profile (that she unfollowed in a petty fit three days ago) came up like normal. She had unblocked his number last night too in fear that he would text her after the party and she wouldn’t know, but as of that hour, nothing had come from him either. 

And in an odd sense, she was okay with that. 

Tossing the phone down on the bed, her hands met her face again and she let out a deep breath. 

[paintedwithapalette]

Art by @summonerdagger88​

-------------------------------------

Memories of You Chapter 12 (snippet)

Word Count: 1,755

------------------------------------

"For a second there, I wasn't sure if you were going to show up,” Naminé said. “I thought you might ditch me for the Guardian Festival."

"Actually, it was the other way around," Roxas said as he took it upon himself to get comfortable and plopped onto Naminé's bed, tying his hands behind the back of his head as he shut his eyes. "I kinda ditched my friends at the festival to hang out with you."

"I still can’t quite understand why you would do that."

Roxas shrugged. "I've known those guys for years and I've been to plenty of festivals and parties with them. I think they'll live. You can always count on old friends, but I think I’d rather prioritize a newer one.” 

Naminé couldn’t fight back the small smile. “I... suppose so.”

“Besides, the festival will be going for the rest of the week. Maybe I'll go tomorrow."

"Yeah, but..." Naminé trailed, twiddling her thumbs. "...I don't want to be the reason for any rifts between you and your friends."

Roxas smiled at her. "You're not going to cause a rift between us. I'm sure they understand."

"I guess I just think the festival sounds a lot more fun than hanging out with me. Aren't I kind of boring in comparison?"

Roxas scoffed. "If I thought you were boring, I wouldn't be here."

Naminé massaged her left arm as she sat on her bed next to Roxas. "Well, I don't think there's much we'll be able to do at my place today. My dad is downstairs and I don't think he plans on leaving, which means whatever we do, we'll have to be quiet about it."

"...Are you hitting on me?"

Naminé's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed once she realized how suggestive her words sounded. "I meant we can't watch bad movies downstairs or something! Get your head out of the gutter."

Roxas laughed. "If you say so." He noticed Mocchi eating in her bowl across the room and sat up. "Mocchi! Come here, girl."

The cat peered her head from her breakfast and licked her snout. She stared at Roxas for a moment before returning to her food.

"Guess she still doesn't like me very much," Roxas said.

Naminé sent him the slightest of smirks. "How many times do I have to tell you she isn't a dog? Cats don't work like that. You have to let her warm up to you."

"How do I do that?"

"Nothing," Naminé replied curtly. "You don't choose the cat, the cat chooses you. She'll come to you once she's more familiar with you."

"Understood, sensei." Roxas tapped his chin. "Guess it's a good excuse to keep coming around more often then, huh?"

Naminé tucked some hair behind her ear. "Guess so."

Roxas cleared his throat and rolled over until he was sitting next to Naminé. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

Her eyes widened. "You're leaving that up to me? Aren't you supposed to be the one that takes initiative?"

"I was gonna suggest another movie but it looks like that's off the table. Now, I'm kinda stumped."

"Well, I don't know what to do. I suck at coming up with plans, Roxas," she said in a whiny voice. "It's not like it's something I do often..."

Roxas crinkled his eyebrows in thought. "Is it... really such a bad thing if your father sees me?" he asked. "Don't you think it'd be better if you just introduced me? It's not like we're, um... you know."

"R-Right." Naminé kept her eyes trained on her twiddling thumbs. "I'm not sure if that's such a good idea. He gets really... overbearing. My father isn't exactly one to trust people. Even if the situation is harmless."

"Sounds kind of extreme."

"He has his reasons," she said cryptically. 

Roxas searched for a solution in his head. He inwardly admitted he should have come a bit more prepared considering it was the week of the festival when very few people went to work. They sat in a comfortable silence until Roxas snapped his fingers. "Oh, duh. We can just go to my place," he said nonchalantly as he stood up. He eyed her current attire of a camisole and pajama shorts. "You might wanna get dressed."

"Wha—w-wait a minute! Where'd that come from all of a sudden?"

Roxas raised an eyebrow. "You said it yourself: there's not much to do here. No harm in getting some sunshine every once in a while. You look like you could use some," he added with a wink.

She glared at him for his unnecessary comment. "You better not be planning on trying anything funny."

Roxas frowned. "You better not be serious about that."

She gave a trollish smile. "Just wanted to see your face."

Roxas cleared his throat. "Look, are you coming or not?"

Roxas wasn't wrong. Inappropriate jokes aside, what could they do cooped up in her room all day? Besides, if her father unexpectedly dropped in, that would spell all kinds of bad news. But she didn't feel like being by herself either.

"Okay," Naminé muttered. "Let's do it, I guess."

Roxas smiled. "Great."

"I-I hope you realize I'll have to get ready first," Naminé quickly clarified. "I have to take a shower and figure out what I'm going to wear and—"

"What? Aww, come on."

"Hey, even I have some dignity with how I'm presented to the outside world. I mean, just look at my hair and—” 

"Okay, I see your point,” Roxas said, cutting her off before he got a laundry list of Naminé’s insecurities. Though, it earned him a frown in the end. “Fair enough."

Naminé began twiddling her fingers. "Umm, you know you're not staying in my room while I shower, right? I'm going to be getting dressed here."

Roxas felt his face flush when images of Naminé—he stopped himself right there. "I mean, I get not wanting me to see you but we're kind of backed into a corner here."

"Just go wait in Kairi's room or down the hall."

Roxas rolled his eyes. "You and I both know that'd be a dumb idea. I'll just stand in the corner of the room and keep my eyes closed."

"Nope, sorry. Please leave."

"You don't trust me?"

"It's not that," Naminé assured. "It's just... w-weird."

Roxas tapped his foot impatiently. "Well, where am I supposed to go? Out the window?"

Two minutes later, Roxas found himself begrudgingly climbing out the window. He found the circumstance rather annoying considering he couldn't enjoy the AC unit filtering out the sticky, humid air inside of the Villiers residence and instead had to be submerged in his own sweat thanks to the Destiny Islands heat.

Naminé poked her head out of the window and gave him a guilty but gracious smile. "Thanks for understanding, Roxas."

He narrowed his eyes. "Just hurry up."

Roxas sat in the grass with his back against the wall as he waited for Naminé to get ready. He tried to be as patient as he possibly could, but the heat wasn't making it very easy for him. He could barely scroll through social media on his phone due to his sweaty fingers. After an agonizing forty-five minutes, Naminé poked her head out her window again.

"S-Sorry for the wait," Naminé said.

Roxas was quick to get up to his feet. "About time. Pretty sure I was seconds away from a heat stroke. Ready to go?"

"Yeah, um, I think so," Naminé said, trailing off with her eyes darting in all sorts of directions. 

"What is it?" Roxas asked with a hint of frustration. 

"I-I'm, uh... not sure what I should do," she said. "I don't think I can go out the front door. For... obvious reasons."

"Then I guess we only have one option," Roxas said, a smirk playing his lips.

Naminé gulped. "This is weird. I've never jumped out of a window before."

"It's not that bad of a jump. I've climbed up and out of there a bunch of times."

"Yeah, well, not everyone is a stalker like you." Roxas gaped at the jab. "Kidding. I just don't want to break my neck, that's all."

"You're not gonna break your neck," Roxas said exasperatingly. "I'll catch you, okay? Think of it like one of those trust exercises."

"Roxas... there's a big difference between falling into someone's arms who's less than a foot behind you and jumping out of a window!"

"Will you just come on?" Roxas asked as he held out his arms, his impatience becoming more apparent. "We'll be here for another twenty minutes when we could get it over with in twenty seconds. Sometimes, you just gotta take the leap of faith, Nam. Pun intended."

Naminé let out a whiny moan but figured he wasn't wrong. It would be better than having to come up with another lie for her father. "If I die, it's on your conscience."

Roxas scoffed. "Dramatic as usual."

"First things first," Naminé said before tossing out her sketchbook. Roxas caught it with a confused glance but shook his head. It seemed like Naminé didn't like leaving the house without it. He set it on the ground for the time being.

Naminé sat on her window sill with her legs dangling over the ledge. She bit her lip with anticipation of what was to come next. Roxas looked at her from below with his arms waiting for her. He did his best to be patient and gave her a smile full of encouragement. It helped, albeit a little.

"Here goes nothing..." she said to no one in particular. "See you on the other side, Mocchi."

Mocchi only watched confusedly as Naminé kipped herself off the ledge. Mocchi, unsure of what was happening and concerned for her favorite human's safety, made a dash on top of Naminé's bed and peeked outside only to find Naminé firmly within Roxas' arms. She was covering her own eyes with her hands despite wearing glasses. When she opened them, she found that Roxas was carrying her bridal-style.

"You okay?" he asked with a confident smirk.

Naminé returned a shy smile before she felt a sudden wave of heat in her face and she didn't think the cause was the sun. She quickly got out of his hold and picked up her sketchpad from the ground before it could get any dirtier. She turned around, flattened the wrinkles of her outfit, and pushed her glasses up to her face.

"F-Fine. Lead the way."

Link to full fic and full chapter and fic if anyone is interested in reading Memories of You! Thank you so much if you reached this far! 

[hecohansen31]

May I ask for a fluffy time with Duncan, Michael and their silly girl ? Like, they are always busy because of their jobs, even at home, so she decided to do a " secret competition" between them, with a board in her room, and the one who have more points at the end is the best. Will they discovered it, will one be better, or they will both be stupid boyfriends who never get any point ? As you want, but a happy ending, pleaseeeee !! (I'm glad you are back and feel a bit better wifey, love you !)

(A/N): Hello there lovely!

Ah I am also glad that I am feeling better and I hope the same for you, may you have a beautiful 2020!

But without further ado I am going to leave you fo the fic (I low key changed a few details and I hope you won’t hate it, since it ended up being a bit angsty, but hey... without a bit of sadness we wouldn’t be happy!

Have a lovely day!

Also as always, my askbox is open, so if you want to request either something about this couple or any other character I write for, please feel welcome to send your ideas!

WARNINGS: Poly-Relationship, Relationship Neglect, Jealousy, People Just Being Idiots.

You had always been thankful for the holidays: you could spend entire days just simply lying in bed in your favorite pajamas, the comfortable one, the warmest you owned, meanwhile you watched cheesy Christmas movie and even cheesier re-runs of your favorite TV series.

No responsibility other than eating when you felt like it (which was much more than you usually did) and washing yourself to warm you up.

But since you had entered a relationship with Duncan Shepherd and Michael Langdon, the peace and the calmness of your holiday had been ruined.

Not only you weren’t able to enjoy your free time, but also your lovers escaped your hug in the morning and entered it late by night.

… if they did come home.

The thing was taking quite the toll onto you, but as Christmas neared, something started changing-

Your boys, although they kept on being busy, started being more attentive, dropping casual gestures of affection that made your heart sparkle with joy, although they weren’t fully back to you.

One day Michael would gently cover you with a blanket, as you fell asleep onto the sofa, meanwhile you were watching a movie, and the following night Duncan would clutch you tight to his chest, meanwhile you slept, a bit shaken by a nightmare you had just had.

Michael would buy you pretty jewelry and Duncan would take you shopping, ‘awing’ at each dress you tried on, meanwhile you cheered onto French champagne.

It was starting to be kind of a competition and, unknowingly, you had raised it, making a board in your agenda, where you would half-mindedly count the point of each boy, adding one for each gesture that would make your heart burst and taking one away, when they overworked himself, depriving you of their presence and love.

It was rather stupid, but it was your own secret and a way to keep your mind busy and to let your heart know that, no matter the time spent away from you, they still loved you, with small gestures.

One day, meanwhile you were out on a cocktail party with Michael, you had left your agenda unattended, sure to have hidden it in your room, having brought it back after you had noted a few appointments on it.

And Duncan, at home, for once, had thought about looking through it, since it resembled his, a present from Michael to both you and Duncan on an anniversary: your initials being carved in the back of it.

He had immediately realized it was yours, but it was too late and his gaze had found the board you had made, being caught by his name next to Michael’s and a collection of blue spots under each of their name, some being cancelled with your eraser some other being written right that morning.

It didn’t take a genius to realize you were confronting your lovers, but what Duncan couldn’t understand was why.

Was it the money?

One of the biggest thoughts that troubled Duncan on your relationship with Michael and you, was the constant thought that he wouldn’t be able to give you the proper life you deserved, because of the money he earned being not enough.

So, it wasn’t a mystery that his mind immediately went into some dark places, also because in that moment Michael was on top of the competition and as he kept on thinking about it, only darker scenarios kept spinning in his mouth.

He had been the one who had introduced you in his relationship with Michael, he had been the first one to fall in love with you and you had reciprocated him immediately, meanwhile it had taken quite some time for both you and Michael to warm up to the other, but was it possible that you had lost all the love you had had for him, preferring Michael?

As he kept on spiraling, the door to your shared apartment opened and revealed you and Michael, both giggling, lightly dizzy for the wine you had drunk, meanwhile your arms were wrapped around Michael’s mid-waist, in a joking hold.

Duncan had never ever been jealous of the relationship between you and Michael, except in that moment.

“I am glad to know that you had fun” he mumbled, as he closed the agenda, with a movement that made a rather startling noise, catching your attention alongside Duncan’s grim expression.

“You could have joined us” replied Michael, also grimly, meanwhile you sent a look to Duncan’s face, coming closer to him, to gently relax him under your touch, but it didn’t seem to work in the slightest, as he pushed you away.

“… oh, I am sorry, but somebody has to work to keep up your expensive lifestyles!”.

Both you and Michael were startled by the accusation and finally your attention was dragged to your agenda, realizing he had found out your board, and Duncan realized you had understood.

“… exactly… Duncan is certainly below Michael” he chanted, almost crazily and Michael sent you a confused look.

“What is he talking about?” he asked, as your face was completely covered with shock.

“… yeah, (Y/N)… tell Michael about your ‘little point board’ “.

Now you were completely colorless in your face, your breathing completely coming a bit shallowly and Duncan’s harshness came to an immediate halt, seeing you in that bad state, and he tried to come close to you, but Michael halted him, worried for you.

“I… I didn’t think you would… find out about it… it was a… stupid game” you mumbled, meanwhile you sat down, onto the sofa on the opposite side of Duncan, who looked at you with puppy eyes, slowly realizing he was overthinking “… I… lately you have been a bit distant, even though… it’s the holidays and… I thought you would have… taken a bit of time… off… but… you are busy I get it…”.

“You should have told us about it, lovely” encouraged you softly Michael, coming next to you, between you and Duncan, and gently caressing your back to push you to talk with more calm and easiness “… we would have made sure to spend more time together”.

Duncan nodded, because he might sometimes not see things eye-to-eye with you or Michael, but he surely understood the basilar things.

“… I just… you started being nice and doing nice gestures and I thought about writing them down…” and then you grabbed onto the agenda, opening it further, revealing the date of when you had gone out to a nice private dinner with Duncan, the thing noted on its specific date, alongside how much fun you had had with him, that night “… they make me think that… you love me… when you are a bit more distant…”.

“Oh sweetie” Duncan’s voice was lightly rough and definitely hazed, showing he was a few minutes from crying and, giving him his best puppy eyes, he managed to get through Michael to hug you, meanwhile your body was shaken by little sobs “… I am so so sorry… for… accusing you. I am a dumb idiot”.

You just sniffled a bit, but came closer to him, pushing your head in the crook of his neck, allowing him to lay a soft kiss onto your head.

Michael took in the scene, before he moved to gently cradle you both in his arms, mumbling something about ‘you being the only idiots he could stand’-

You both moved to cuddle onto your bed, passing the rest of the night together, in tangled arms, meanwhile Duncan made it up to you, with sweet words and lasting promises, desperately ‘trying to get a few points for the board’.

“… wouldn’t want to lose it to old man, Langdon…” he mumbled, gaining an elbow in the stomach by said ‘old man’.

“Oh, don’t worry Duncan, I don’t care about that old thing” you replied, cradling him closer, meanwhile Michael nuzzled into your neck, gently caressing your hair “… you have already won my heart, don’t worry, and that win last for ever”.

[averagedoctor]

Breakups and beginnings

11th doctor x reader

Pronouns: gender neutral

Word count: 2,462 (I didn’t realize I had written so much wow)

TWs: crying?, breakup?

Tagging: @evyiione

Summary: While out trying to clear your head of a recent breakup, a odd man sits down next to you.

A/N: I got broken up with a few weeks ago which is where the inspiration for this came from. This also took forever to write and isn’t really edited so yeah there’s that

Wiping your eyes, you took a shaky breath in. You never thought that this was actually going to happen. You looked away from the person in front of you and sniffled. Tears still dripped down your face and you tried once again to get rid of them. It didn’t work. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you turned around and left, walking home, not looking back. You couldn’t believe that this was real. You didn't want to think that this was real. Except, it was, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. So, instead, you walked home, crying.

Reaching your stoop, you realized just how biting cold it was outside. Funny, it didn’t even register to you since you were so wrapped up in your thoughts. Unlocking your door, you headed to the bathroom to assess the damage. Your eyes were swollen, nose raw, and cheeks incredibly flushed and red. Splashing water on your face, your thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to them and tears welled in your eyes once again. It was so surreal and yet you had just experienced it. Breathing in, you backed up and slid down the bathroom wall, burying your face in your hands and sobs. Truly, painfully, sobbing. You hadn’t cried like that in a long time and it felt like an old friend. You wished it didn’t feel that way.

After an hour or so, you collected yourself. You hadn’t felt so drained and lonely in such a long time. Immediately, your thoughts rushed to texting them, they always made you feel better, until the wave of reality crashed down on your, forcing you to remember that you no longer had that lifeline. Closing your eyes, you breathed deep, attempting to hold more sobs at bay. You couldn’t stay in your house anymore, so, against your better judgement, you left. Whisking your coat on and stuffing your phone in your pocket (even though there wouldn’t be anyone texting you) you headed out. To where, you weren’t sure. All you knew is that you had to leave. Just leave. The last conversation you had with them played through your mind as you walked the bitter streets. Streetlights were the only thing that illuminate your path.

“I’m sorry.”

That was the one sentence you couldn’t shake. You hated how sincere they sounded. “I’m sorry.” If they were so sorry, then why did they do this to you? Why did they figure hurting you was so much better? It wasn’t like it mattered anymore but you wanted to know so badly. A tear fell down your cheek and you quickly got rid of it, continuing to hurry forward.

Eventually, you reached an empty park. It was nearly pitch black and the sky was full of stars. You were a little shocked that you were here, considering that it was so far from where you live, but you figured you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to process anything. You took a seat on the nearest bench you could find. The cold metal bit at your legs and you shivered against it, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself. Looking off into the distance, you let the numbness consume you. You couldn’t even find the energy to cry, all you could do was sit on that freezing bench and watch the trees dance in front of your vision as the dark twisted their shapes.

You couldn’t say how long you had been there before, suddenly, a man had sat down on the bench next to you. Fear immediately filled your body. It was the middle of the night and there was a strange man next to you and you had no idea what his agenda was. Still, you couldn’t help your head turning and looking at him. He had brown hair that swept over one side of his face. His clothes were interesting for this time of night, but he could have just come from a party. He was wearing a red bow tie, white button down, a light brown tweed jacket, and some color of dress pants that your eyes couldn’t pick up in the dim light. You didn’t say a word and you could feel the blood draining from your face. He looked shocked at your reaction.

“Oh, hello! I didn’t mean to scare you, you just looked upset and I wanted to see if you were okay. I should have thought about the time of night it was, really. Honest mistake, I forget about it sometimes. Well then, are you alright?” He rambled off, looking at you with expectant eyes. Your fear ebbed. He seemed harmless enough, just a nice guy looking out for another person. Nearly anybody else would have seen you and hurried on by or not even been outside at all.

“I…” You paused, trying to decide whether to lie or not, “I’m not alright.” You admitted at last, hanging your head. The man gave you a sympathetic frown. “It’s really no big deal though. You didn’t have to stop to talk to me. I’ll be fine. You should go, enjoy your night.” You said, looking at your lap, still.

“I stopped by because you seemed sad. I can’t stand seeing anybody sad.” He left it at that and it was up to you to say something now.

“Well, okay.” You opened your mouth to continue speaking but paused, looking at the man for a quick second. Even thinking about saying the words and admitting it was real was causing your throat to close up. “Um.” You coughed, a blush forming on your cheeks. Your eyesight turned to the trees in front of you. “My partner. They left me.” You stammered out, tears pricking at your eyes. Shifting, you swiped your hand at them. “It’s… it’s dumb. I knew, I knew, and yet… I’m still surprised and, and hurt and yeah. That’s my night.” You huffed out in a laugh, mirroring self deprecating. “Sorry. That was pathetic of me.” You laced your fingers together, worrying with the skin.

“I’m so sorry.” He said with such sincerity that it hurt your heart. Who knew a stranger could be so nice.

“Yeah, but nothing can be done, so…” You trailed off, going to stare at his shoes now, trying to decipher their color in the dark. “What’s, uh, what’s your name?”

“The Doctor or just Doctor.”

“Y/N.” You replied with a curt nod. It was an odd name but somehow it fit him. You couldn’t have imagined him having any other name. Maybe John, but that was besides the point.

“Thank you.” You blurted out suddenly. “My night has been going horribly. I have no one to talk to and everything was just building inside. I thought I was going to explode. I didn’t realize how much I needed to say the truth out loud until you. So, thanks.” You finished lamely, now holding eye contact with him.

“Of course. I try to be helpful like that. Plus, people like to talk to me. I guess I have one of those faces.” He joked with an easy smile. Putting your hands on your knees, you pushed yourself to stand.

“I should be going.” You excused, pointing behind you.

“Would you want a lift home? It’s cold.” He reasoned, standing up as well. You hesitated, knowing you shouldn’t trust a stranger like that, but you were now noticing the cold and couldn’t bear the walk back home.

“Alright.” You caved, sticking your hands in your jacket pocket. The man lit up at your response.

“This way.” He motioned, striding in front of you, and the two of you walked out of the park.

About a block away, there lay a tall object blocking the horizon, a bright light at the top of it a beacon. The Doctor headed straight towards it and you trailed behind, cautious. He stopped right at the doors, waving you to come over.

“This… this doesn’t look like a  car.” You joked, nervously. It was some decades old blue police box. You hadn’t even ever seen one in person before and didn’t think any existed anymore.

“Oh, it’s better than a car.” He winked, tapping the wood lighting with a finger. “You can go in, it’s perfectly safe.” He assured you, heading to push open the door.

“I don’t think we could both fit in there. I should just walk.” You said quickly. You thought you could trust this man, but this was getting weird now.

“It’s terribly cold. Please, just step in for a second, I think you’ll be surprised.” The Doctor pleaded, running a hand through his hair.

“Fine.” You said, curtly. You couldn’t think of any way to excuse yourself out of this situation so you figured you would be better off stepping in.

As he pushed open the door, you shut your eyes and stumbled in, your hand a guide on the wooden wall. The wood that turned to a cool metal as you entered. Your eyes snapped open with the texture change and you found yourself in a much larger space than you ever could have imagined. It was all gleaming metal with a control console in the center of it all. Stairs were fanned around the room, leading off to who knows where.

“Oh my god.” Was all you could breathe out, spinning around slowly so you could take in all that was around you. The Doctor stood by with a pleased smile on his face, leaning on a  stair rail in front of you.

“I know.” He said, hopping up to the control panel. “So, care to go someplace other than home?”

“Huh?” You tilted your head, walking over to him. “What do you mean? What happened to going home?” A light blush formed on his cheeks and his eyes darted everywhere but your face.

“Well, this is my ship, the TARDIS. She can travel through space and time and I thought, maybe, you’d like a distraction… I can drop you at home, if you want.”

“Space… and time?”

“Yes, anywhere. Maybe not the 652nd sector, but anywhere else.” You scoffed and rested a hand on the cool metal of the console.

“What about a star being born?” The Doctor’s eyes lit up happily and he whizzed off, yanking levers here and there, and soon enough the TARDIS was bucking and shaking. You gripped tight to anything near you in hopes to stay somewhat upright. Then, just as soon as it had started, it stopped. The Doctor skipped along to the doors and guesterued at you to come over. Regaining your balance, you shakily walked over to the doors.

“Are you ready?” He asked, hands tensing on the handles. You nodded in reply.

He flung open the doors with a flourish, beaming at the sight before you. It was stunning. He had brought you just as it was starting to form and so many beautiful things were happening before you at once. Tears filled your eyes and you blinked them away, shocked. You had never cried at anything beautiful before.

You and the Doctor stood there for the whole process, you gaping in awe the entire time, and the Doctor watching with a pleased smile on his face.

“Why a star being born?” He questioned you when it was over, the two of you walking back to the main area.

You shrugged, thinking. “New beginning, I guess.” He patted you on the shoulder and went to go set the coordinates to home. With a quick jostle, you were back on Earth, back at your home.

“Is this what you always do?” You were sitting on the stairs leading up to the center.

“Yes.” He replied, taking a seat next to you.

“Alone?”

“Sometimes. I try not to be.”

“Where are the people you’re with then?” That question only earned you silence and the Doctor averting his gaze.

“Sorry.” You said hastily, wanting to recover for your blunder.

“It’s fine.” He assured, looking back at you and giving you a tight smile.

“Thank you, for everything. I really needed that tonight.” You stood up, giving the man a smile, your first real one of the night. “I should be going now, though, for real.” You laughed, anxiously. You were never good at being the one to initiate the goodbye. Just like… no. You weren’t going to think about them right now. They weren’t going to ruin this for you. “Goodnight, Doctor.” You waved to him, walking over to the doors to leave. Cracking open one, you were just getting ready to step out into the cold night when you heard noises behind you and turned around. It was the Doctor, standing at the base of the stairs now, shifting his weight, and adjusting his bowtie.

“Actually, Y/N, would you want to come travel with me?” He rubbed his hands together nervously. Your eyes softened and you frowned.

“I’m sorry, Doctor. I have a life that I need to take charge of.”

“Yes, of course.” He nodded multiple times, lowering his hands. In a moment of pure impulse, you rushed over to this near stranger and gave him a hug.

“Be safe.” You whispered to him before fleeing out into the cold. Your walk home was monumentally better now that you could replay all that you had seen tonight in your mind. You hardly even thought about them until you got into bed that night. That’s when the tears broke free and flowed from your eyes. Even new stars and strange, wonderful, men couldn’t stop the aching loneliness you now felt without them in your life. Hopefully the star would be enough to show you that things can begin again and be more beautiful than they were before.

The Doctor sat down slowly on the stairs. He found that his breath was stolen from his lungs and it took a minute before he could breathe normally again. It’s always the good ones, the best ones, that got away. All the possible futures shattered in the instant they decided to leave. He understood, of course, that you were in a spot where going off with him would be a lot like being tied down and back in that relationship you had just been thrust from. He knew, but that didn’t mean it pained him any less. He put his head between his legs as some tears fell through the cracks and tried to think about how much happier he had made you tonight and how you would carry this with you for the rest of the life. Surprisingly, it helped him feel a tiny bit better and soon enough he was pulling himself up off those steps and shooting himself straight into another adventure, another world.

[mariosomething]

MISTAKES I MADE AS A COMIC OR NOTICED AS A BOOKER...

(NOTE: Never say never, but I can’t imagine getting back on stage again. However, now that comedy is returning to clubs--and potentially booming here in Austin--I think this is worth repeating. Especially #15. Enjoy!)

So, I might be hopping on stage again for my own, personal reasons. Number one being distraction from the crushing loneliness that comes with self-employment. Woo! On the first page of my newly-purchased comedy notebook, I started making a list of things I don’t want to do this time around. The comic I don’t want to be, should I continue performing. Getting in my own way with unfounded beliefs about my abilities or lack thereof. I will—NO DOUBT—repeat some of the following blunders out of muscle memory, and if you catch me doing so, by all means, call me out! In no particular order:

1- Worrying about who’s heard this bit before. One cure for this is to never stop writing new stuff. Also, it’s the JOB of a comedian to repeat the same shit with the same zeal and sincerity for different crowds…crowds that probably don’t attend comedy shows as often as we perform on them.

2- Worrying about making the comics laugh. This is still the hallmark of a great comic to me…the person we’ve all seen before but stop the chit-chat when they get on stage. It’s the opposite of a “crowd-pleaser.” In a perfect world, I can please both—as some do—but ultimately, we don’t get paid to make the back of the room laugh. If I’m building a half-hour, those comics may ‘check out’ during my set, and that’s to be expected. If I concern myself with their approval, I’m ignoring the audience, and by extension, disrespecting them. THEY bought a ticket. They deserve my best attempt.

3- Starting your act with a risky joke. Are there exceptions for these “rules” of mine? Absolutely. But they are just that…exceptions. This one always drove me nuts when I ran the Velv. Especially when the rest of one’s act is relatively benign! Would you lead with your “crazy” on a first date? Talk about all of your flaws on a job interview? Or with music you like…if I wanted to get you into Tom Waits, I’m not gonna recommend The Black Rider—an album only die-hard fans might appreciate. I’d start with something accessible, like Small Change or Rain Dogs. Get them on your side first with your palatable stuff, then give ‘em what you want. (Now go listen to Tom Waits’ Small Change and Rain Dogs.) 

4- Worrying about looking stupid. This is the big one for me. Even though I KNOW the audience WANTS us to look foolish; even while I KNOW they want us to be both vulnerable and confident about it, I have a crippling fear of embarrassment. And this is NOT a good quality for any comedian. I learned that words account for only 7% of communication. The rest is body language, facial expressions and tone. I’ve always hidden behind my words, and have given up on bits that require me to be more animated. So dumb. Which leads me to…

5- Not doing enough ‘act-outs’ in bits. When I watch amazing comedians, they all have this in common. They perform or act-out dialogue. More show than tell. They don’t just recite jokes or one-liners. Even Steven & Mitch & Todd do/did act-outs in their own, low-energy styles. When you start looking for them, they’re everywhere. So much rolling, sustained laughter derives from act-outs. They don’t have to be BIG, they just have to be well-delivered.

6- Writing what I think they might like, not what I like. Another big ‘duh’ but worth repeating. I fell in this trap on the road. I was lovingly told to “write a dick joke already!” when I was a new, quasi-clever comic. And man alive, did I ever make up for it! Some may have had a fake nose and mustache, but they were dick jokes nonetheless, and I wasn’t proud. But they got laughs, and more laughs meant better comment cards, which meant return visits. Awesome way to remain a road comic…shitty way to evolve or get industry to pay attention. It’s also a fast track to burnout. If you’re not doing stuff you like, resentment builds and ambition wanes.

7- Not having goals. A new, tight 10 minutes is my goal today. If that goes well, a new 30. Then maybe an album. When I DID have things to strive for, they “magically” happened. I kept comedy goal lists on my wall, and most came to fruition. Then I got in my head and stopped making those lists. The more I was learning about the biz, the more inadequate I felt. I stopped writing, stopped going to mics and eventually stopped touring. With no new goals, I lost steam and confidence. I was a competent middle, but a spotty headliner…THAT is my ceiling for now. I’d love to be a rock-solid, reliable closer with at least one killer album to show for it. It’s feasible, but I need to start with that initial aim of a new, polished, consistent 10 minutes that I like.

8- Not watching more pros. Something that baffles me about so many new comics. You have the option to catch A-list comedians for FREE at Cap City, your home club, etc…why would you not take advantage? You learn by watching pros, even if it’s what NOT to do. Or what’s being done to death. You can learn structure, pacing, opening and closing. I used to watch comics I knew I wouldn’t like, but came away with respect for how they did things. People forget or don’t know that the late, great Bill Hicks used to be a clean-ish, set-up/punch kinda comedian. He learned the rules so he can break them effectively. Even at his viscous best, he was still super-polished. It’s respect for the craft, dammit. All of your heroes have it.

9- Getting jealous of your friends’ progress. There is sooo much leap-frogging in this business, there’s no need to denigrate yourself for not keeping pace with a peer. “Comedy is the closest thing there is to justice,” according to Colin Quinn, and I 100% agree. If you’re funny, consistently funny, you will get work. Period. When producers run and book shows, they want reliability more than anything. There is no island of misfit-but-actually-brillant comedians out there, waiting to be discovered. Funny gets noticed by EVERYbody. If you’re not getting booked, start looking inward. Seriously. When Cap City demoted me from headliner, I didn’t fight it. I thought they were right to do so because I knew my 50 minutes was about 15 shy of reliable material. Challenge your beliefs about your own act. Maybe you’re better than you think, but maybe it’s just the opposite. It’s worth asking, “What am I doing wrong?” if you’re having trouble getting past open mics. Maybe you are indeed funny, but still too green or inconsistent. Maybe you had a bad showcase set and your friend killed. Your friend may get Montreal before you, but you might get a manager first. You just don’t know! Keep plugging away, because there’s too much out of your control.

10- Not being humble. Jeezus H. Christmas, where did all of this unearned confidence come from?? Not only will I never relate to this, I will continue to chastise and scoff at it. Don’t assume your shit is crushed fruit, especially when you’re new. Don’t trash talk other comics, it WILL bite you in the ass eventually. Or immediately in some cases. Don’t think you’re immediately entitled to the same things that other comics took years to obtain or achieve. There is always something to learn, even from people you disagree with…it’s the definition of being open-minded. There are comics I detest personally, but goddamn if they aren’t great performers/writers. And I’ll probably get push-back for this, but I never called myself a “comedian” until I was able to quit my day job. Until that happened, I was just a dude who “did comedy.” I wanted to earn that title, don’t you?? Skip the business cards and build your act.

11- Not taking chances on stage. I’ve heard from too many comedians that if you’re always killing up there, you’re not taking chances. When I booked a room, I wanted to reward comics who tried new stuff every open mic, or was tweaking it. If a comic kept going up with well-worn bits, I ignored them for a few weeks or longer, even if they got laughs. It’s open mic, the point is to experiment! When I worked the road, I stopped doing mics when I was back in town. Big mistake. I was afraid to try untested jokes in clubs on the road, and too lazy or complacent to take chances at open mics. I stunted my own growth. 

12- All agenda, no punchlines. I remember watching a well-known comic in NY struggle with Jesus jokes. He could NOT have been in a more welcoming arena for such, but he wasn’t funny, just angry. So he said, “Oh, I guess you guys don’t like religious jokes,” To which my friend replied, “We do! We keep waiting for one.” I think comedians can be the most insightful people on the planet, and the great ones don’t berate, they put funny first. It just makes sense! If you really really really want your message to be heard, then it’s in your best interest to make it funny. Funny cuts through. Or maybe you just wanna use the stage as a soapbox, in which case, quit comedy.

13- Not presenting both sides. I once told an established headliner he couldn’t return to the Velv, despite the numbers. In fairness to us, it was Valentine’s Day weekend, we were packed anyway. He never gave me a chance to explain why, but here’s why: he was too angry about women and wasn’t self-deprecating enough to balance it out. Conversely, I had a female comedian come through a couple of times, and the bulk of her act is male-bashing, BUT, it’s tight and well-crafted and funny as shit…AND she sprinkles in enough self-effacing humor so as not to divide the crowd. If the guy I banned was her parallel, I would’ve re-booked him. But I’m a freak about balance. While I don’t believe ANY person or group of people is above criticism, you can’t just point fingers at others while patting yourself on the back.

14 - Not putting more of ‘me’ in my act. Trends are fun as a reference, but full bits built around them have a tiny shelf life. It’s fluff and filler at best. Relationships will never be hacky. Aging will never get old. Folks! We all have specific quirks or approaches to life in general, why not explore those approaches? That’s when a ‘comic’ graduates to ‘comedian.’ When they stop saying funny things and start saying things funny. Not my line, but damn accurate.**

15- Knee-jerk hating and never asking WHY? Okay, this one’s a personal lament. When I found comedy, I found harmony. Anyone funny was welcome. I didn’t see us as men or women or gay or straight or black or white, we were comics, and I fucking loved it. We were equals from every walk of life, and no jerks allowed! I found a circle of curious, liberal-minded pals who were always asking why. Friends who would call out each other’s bullshit or hypocrisy or bad bits, then laugh about it at Mugshots. Friends who preferred brutal truth over blowing smoke. It was bliss for someone who values sincere feedback and funny, earnest people. Comedians we respect and adore are always challenging norms of behavior and tradition. Pryor, Chapelle, Carlin, Rock, of course, but even Larry David, who’s the king of offending people by rejecting small, societal niceties. 

I’m starting to see too much division and moral cowardice in comedy--on and off stage--and this is antithesis to its value, in my opinion. Everything I hated about high school. Cliques and whispers and spiteful exclusion. I will echo what I wrote earlier: NOBODY IS ABOVE CRITICISM. This is the salty to the sweet of “Everyone welcome.” Comedy is a LOT of failing, tons of real-time rejection, and that SUCKS. But if you think it has anything to do with anything but your act, you’re not asking Why. It’s easier to say, “Well, it’s clearly ‘cos I’m ________.” Really? Maybe it’s ‘cos you’re not funny, or not funny YET. Maybe it’s because you haven’t written a new joke in months, or refuse to change the ones that never work. Maybe you think there are no rules to comedy, and you can just get up there and people will love you because so-and-so does it that way. Maybe you don’t have so-and-so’s natural talent or likability. Or work ethic. Or self-awareness. If your first response is to blame a crowd, a booker, society, or whatever, ask yourself: are there successful comics who look like me? Why them and not me? What are they doing differently? My first guess is: they’re addicted to the craft so they keep their head down and write and tweak and fail and ask why and learn from mistakes. Stop complaining and start paying attention. At the end of the day, you and you alone are responsible for your career. If you believe women aren’t funny, I pity your ignorance and sheltered life. If you think men have it easier, tell that to the thousands of male comics who go nowhere in this business.

Maybe I’m an idealist hippy dippy doofus, but I believe that what we admire about others is pretty universal stuff. Regarding comedy, we all like someone who’s fearless on stage. Confident but not cocky. Capable. Quick. Genuine. Someone who keeps writing and honing their act. Someone who connects with people. Someone who comes back once a year with 30 new minutes. Someone who plows forward, not consumed with the opinions of others. Are these gender or race-specific qualities?? Hardly. And when you’re a top shelf, A-list comedian who’s paid their dues, it’s all preference at that level. It’s Gin vs. Vodka vs. Bourbon vs. Tequila, no one is “better” than the next. Maria Bamford is Bill Burr is Dave Chapelle is Carrot Top. They’re all pros who never stop working.

I’ll leave you with this…Comedy is a powerful and special thing, and I’ve always been crazy-grateful to be part of this tiny, uniquely rewarding world. Even if this experiment crumbles after a few months, even if I can’t vanquish some personal demons, it’s been a pursuit I’ve yet to regret. If you’re just starting out, or five years in, or going on the road, relish every minute. Meet all the people. Make all the friends. Get over your fears, get over yourself and get better. xoxo mario 

**This is how I first heard it. Comic/comedian or vice versa. You get it. Though I personally feel that “comedian” sounds more like an official title, while you can’t spell “comic” without “mic.” Just sayin’ is all.

[joyofcrime-elinorhigh]

Teen Titans Go! REVIEW: (Part 2)

 Hello everybody, my name is JoyofCrimeArt and welcome to part two of my Teen Titans Go! retrospective! Or should I say my Teen Titans.....................................................................................................................No....retrospective.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzKJ4HX4Fuk

Get it? because the show isn't that good! Okay, remember to click that bell icon and turn on notifications to-  So in case your just joining in, this is part two of my Teen Titans Go! retrospective/review. If you haven't seen part one than I highly recommend that you check it out before going forward. To sum up the point I made in my last part...I didn't like this show that much.  WHAT?! A CARTOON CRITIC ONLINE WHO DOESN'T LIKE TEEN TITANS GO?! WHAT A NEW AN UNIQUE TAKE-  But for THIS part we are mostly going to step away from the show itself, and focus on the more meta aspect of the show. So really this part isn't even a review of Teen Titans Go! and more of "A review of elements that are tangentially related to Teen Titans Go! and the conversation around it." But since that title won't fit in the Deviantart title box and it's not "clickbait-y" enough, we're going with this instead.  So I just want to re-emphasize that, for the most part, none of the things I clique here are actually the fault of the shows crew or creators or anything. But I think it's still important to discuss these points because, as I stated last time, I think the conversation around the show is far more interesting than the show itself. So let's dive in.  We'll start with the elephant in the room. Let's talk about the shows handling of critics. This is one of the most notorious elements of the series. Now, I'm just going to say this...I kinda get where the creators are coming from. For real. While there are MANY legit reasons to dislike the show, (Around 4,000 words worth according to my last review alone.) However, out the gate, Teen Titans Go! got hate from ALL cylinders. Young Justice fans bitter about there show being "replaced." Old school Teen Titans fan upset this wasn't season six. People who just wanted action shows. And I'm not going to be high and mighty, as I said last time, I was one of these people. (However, I never made long curse filled rants on Youtube or called for the creators to be shot or anything crazy like that.)  Some people say that reboots are "lazy and easy" because you get a built in audience with zero effort. But I believe the total opposite. Making a reboot sounds like a nightmare. People are much more unforgiving when it's an i.p they love and often times will hate you for the littlest things and won't give you a chance. Just look up how many Powerpuff Girl 2016 rants there were BEFORE any footage of the show was even released. People who are in these positions have it rough, and deserve more appreciation. I can't imagine the amount of hate the two show runners must get on a daily basis, which is probably why they don't seem to have social media accounts.    HOWEVER this is where we get into what I think is one of the biggest problems in society today, and that's strawmaning. And I feel like I shouldn't have to say this, but here I go. And this can apply for anything. JUST BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE WITH AN OPINION ARE ASSHOLES DOESN'T MEAN THAT EVERYBODY WITH SAID OPINION ARE ASSHOLES!  I'm not going to act like there aren't people out there who take Teen Titans Go! WAY to frickin' seriously. That's just factually wrong. But not EVERYONE who has issues with the show are loud obnoxious neck beards who are mad that there "childhood was ruined." And that's how the show and some of the more hostile defenders of the show try to paint "all the haters." Some people just have legit criticisms that they want to get out into the world. When most people write a review of Teen Titans Go!, I don't think there doing so expecting the creators to see it and change the show for them. (I know some do, but again, don't mix the rude jerks in with the rest of us.) They're doing it because they feel passionately, and want to share there opinions with others. Or because they see wasted potential. There's a difference between criticism and hating.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4Ai4G6ccfA

 And the thing is...and this is something that I think I'm in the minority opinion on, but I don't think you HAVE to listen to every piece of criticism you get. I've noticed this trend as of late, where people expect that if they criticize something, the author or creator is obligated to change it. And if they don't then there just "not taking the criticism." But that's not how it works though.  For example, if someone where to tell me "You're reviews are too long." I would definitely take that into consideration, and I would appreciate the input. However, I like overly long analytical reviews, and that's what I'm going to keep doing because that's the type of reviews I wanna make. I might try to shorten them a LITTLE bit, but I would never just start writing few hundred word reviews, cause that's not the art I wanna create.   In the same vain, if Teen Titans Go! doesn't wanna except any of there criticism, that's fine. If the show wants to just go about doing it's own thing, more power to it. But when it does these criticism tackling episodes it's breaking the first rule of the internet. Never let people know when something bothers you. And yeah, I think if a TV show goes out of it's way to tell the critics "you suck" than the critics have the right to say it back. And I know you could say that the show has the right because they started that. But I don't know, there's just some part of me that believes that as the content creator, you have a responsibility to be the bigger person. If that makes sense?  This show basically is "Dab On The Haters: The Animated Series." Really, all the criticism tackling episodes can be summed up like this.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rnd6WLi3TWk

 And the thing is, Teen Titans Go! really doesn't need to defend itself so hard. Because the show is a huge hit! It's clearly super popular with a large group of kids and adults alike. Why be so fixated on pleasing the people who you know your not going to please, when you can focus on the people who love you just the way you are? You don't see shows like Powerpuff Girls or Ben 10 reboots attacking the "haters" like this, and those shows don't even have the added advantage of being that popular.  As it stands, Teen Titans Go! is a show that reeks of insecurity. And as much as I shit on the show last time, it shouldn't be. Clearly the show is doing something right if it lasted this long. Teen Titans Go! the show that taught me how NOT to handle criticism. And honestly, I thank the show for this. I'm a sensitive guy, and I can be very harsh on myself. Without Teen Titans Go! acting as an example of what NOT to do, I could see myself becoming that kinda guy, who mask his insecurities with a faux ego.

Hey...did you see the way I just casually used the word "faux." Oh, I'm great and anyone who think otherwise is dumb...  However, I will give Teen Titans Go! this. I do think that when the humor goes "meta" it's when the shows comedy is at it's best. Because the people behind this show clearly know what this show is. They know it's reputation and it's status among other works of superhero fiction. Plus, as I said, the conversation around the show is far more interesting than the show itself. So when the show tacking these more interesting aspects the episodes tend to be more interesting as well. It's rare to find a show as self-aware of it's own status, and they take advantage of every opportunity that this presents.  I just wish it could do so without insulting me is all.  But do I even have the right to be criticizing this show though? I mean it's for kids, and kids clearly like it. Who right do I, a fully grown adult, have to stop kids from enjoying what they like. Why do I have to stand here and push my radical pro-Steven Universe agenda?!  That has been an argument I have been seeing a lot lately. And honestly, there are some aspects I actually do agree with. If you are reviewing a show with the hope of convincing someone to hate something that they previously liked, just because you hate the show, than in my personal opinion you are reviewing the show for the wrong reason. If you like Teen Titans Go! and somehow made it this far in the review, I want to be clear, you have the right to like whatever you want to like. Whenever I do a negative review of something, it's never with the intent of trying to stop someone from enjoying something they like. I just want to express why I don't like it.    As for the kid show argument, in some instances I agree with that argument too. Kids and adults are different. They have different taste and different things that they relate to. And shows are, from a business standpoint, targeted at a specific age demographics. I don't know why it's okay to call a show an "adult cartoon." but if you call a show a "kids show" it's deemed as an insult to the medium. Why is it wrong to say that I enjoy things aimed at kids? But getting back to the point, adults and kids look for different things in a show. Like, a kid obviously wouldn't be able to relate to the theme's presented in Bojack Horseman, and an adult would likely be board to tears by something like Peppa Pig.  However, the difference here is that Teen Titans Go! airs on Cartoon Network. And thus, it should be held to the same standard as other Cartoon Network shows are held to, since all CN shows are pretty much aimed at the same general age range. Not only that, but the show is rated TV-PG! i.e.) The same rating as Adventure Time, Steven Universe, Regular Show, and Over the Garden Wall. Technically speaking, kids aren't even suppose to watch this show without an adult. So I think it's fair to say that this show SHOULD be made with kids and adults in mind.  If this show was truly intended only for kids, and adults shouldn't watch it, than why are there so many 80's references and scenes that feel very...um....

Totally Spies...If you know what I mean.  Basically, my point here is that it is, in my opinion, completely reasonable to cirque this show. And it's weird because the whole "It's for kids" and "Don't like, don't watch." arguments are usually seen as a joke argument. (even though I personally feel like both arguments do apply in certain situations.) But with this show, I see people using these arguments a lot. And to each there own, I'm not going to stand her and say your argument is "invalid." But I think it is odd that this show seems to be the only show where these arguments is deemed "acceptable."  Also, if you watch Cartoon Networks live feed on a regular basis, it's hard to follow the "Don't like, don't watch." rule because the show is on so frickin' much!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyxX3ix2jp8

What makes this ad worse is how much this kid looks like Logan Paul...  Cartoon Network spams this show. And while I'm sure that this show would still very much be hated regardless of the scheduling, I think the scheduling is a major factor in how this show manged to stay a relevant topic of conversation in the cartoon community for over five years at this point. Humans, in case you haven't realized this by now, are very stubborn and spiteful creature by nature. If you shove something down someone's throat, or in this case tell that that it's there new favorite show, there bound to have an adverse reaction. Regardless of the actually quality of the product. Also, the show wasn't even "new" when that ad campaign started!  However, I do want to point out that it isn't Teen Titans Go's! fault that it's being spammed so much. It's Cartoon Networks scheduling departments. Traditional television is dying, and channels need to air what gives them ratings. Cartoon Network has always been in last place rating wise, when compared to there rivals Nickelodeon and Disney. They need to air what gives them ratings. And Teen Titans Go! is that. I get it.  However, and keep in mind I'm not an expert on any of this and have no idea what I'm really talking about, I feel like eventually this will come back to bite them. EVENTUALLY Teen Titans Go! is going to end. Even if it's after we're all long dead and buried, the show will die. It's already been running for five years, which is an eternity in kid cartoon time. And when this show does end, CN is going to need something else to keep people coming back. Because as of now, this show and Gumball (which is ending soon.) are the channels only main draws with the ratings. CN, as of it stands now, needs this show. And when this show does end, they'll need some kind of back up series if they hope to survive in this modern, cord cutting climate. This cash cow can't be milked forever.  R-right? P-Please God, tell me it can't last forever!

...Again with the Totally Spies.  But while I'm on the topic of Teen Titans Go! success, I have to ask the question of why? Why do kids gravitate more towards this show, in particular? Because as I stated in the last part, the idea taking an establish i.p and making a more comedic slice of life reboot may have been fresh back in 2013, but now of days we are over saturated with shows just like that. Show's like Powerpuff Girls 2016, Ben 10, and to a lesser extent Justice League Action and Be Cool Scooby-Doo are all more comedic versions of there respected brands, but none of those shows are nearly as successful. (And this isn't me saying those shows are bad because they follow TTG's mold. It's all about execution and I'm trying to make a point.) What does Teen Titans Go! have that these other shows don't?  The way I see it, the reason why Teen Titans Go! is popular while those other "Teen Titans Go-esq shows" (Even the really good ones like Justice League Action.) aren't has to do with intent and execution. Those other shows only chose to become more comedic because it was deemed "more marketable." And while I'm sure that was a factor in why Teen Titans Go! was pitched as a comedy, I feel the difference is how the shows chose to treat itself. Those other shows are made to be safe and marketable. They want fans new and old to like the show, so people will be more likely to buy the merch, which in turn will fund more seasons. Teen Titans Go! on the other hand, doesn't care about playing it "safe." It'll do whatever crazy and messed up things it wants to. The show revels in it's inaccuracy to the original.  A marketing team and a bunch of executives think Teen Titans Go! is successful because it's a comedy based on a beloved brand. But the reason I think it's popular is because it doesn't give a fu*k! To people who like this show, that's why they like it. And that's why the show is so interesting to talk about.  Also there a lot of elements in Teen Titans Go! appeals to kids. It's full wish fulfillment. Who doesn't want all the power and none of the responsibility. Who doesn't want to not have to worry about school or work, and just sit on a couch eating food all day. The show is loud, crazy, and colorful. It appeals to kids, and some adults, on a base level. It appeals to our more lazy and selfish aspects of our personalities that we all have, but chose to keep buried inside out of fear of social consequence. And while all that may sound harsh, I really don't mean that as an insult. There's nothing wrong with a show appealing to those aspects of our subconscious, because it can allow us to express those feelings without acting upon them. It's the same reason why people like characters like Bender from Futurama, or Rick from Rick and Morty. Teen Titans Go! is that for kids, and there's nothing wrong with that. Especially in a time where so many other kids shows are so nice and non-cynical. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  So, to wrap everything up, Teen Titans Go! might just be one of the most fascinating and influential shows of the 2010's? But do I recommend it? Well, despite EVERYTHING I ranted about in part one, from the lackluster comedy, horrendous writing, lazy reusing of voice acting and animation, and the lack of basic understanding when it comes to telling a story...I surprisingly actually do highly recommend it. 

 Listen, just hear me out here. While this show in all technical aspects is a frickin' train wreck. But sometimes, you just want to watch a train wreck unfold. It's fascinating to see just what this show is going to do next. What crazy, half backed decision it'll do. And honestly, it's hard not to admire how much the show just goes for it, even if "it" isn't something that you should go for. The show has this element of "watch-ability" even if I know the show itself isn't technically "good." It's a show worth watching, if for no other reason than to have an opinion on it. I think it's pretty obvious who will love this show, who will hate this show, and who will ironically love it. Maybe it's just Stockholm syndrome, but I will be genuinely sad when this show does come to an end.  But I want to end on this note. If you hate this show with a fire-y passion, feel free to do so. You have the right to like or not like whatever you want. Don't be afraid of giving your opinion just because your worried that people will think that your a "hater" or that it's "cringy to still be talking about Teen Titans Go! in 2018." Value your thoughts and share them with the masses. Just don't be a jerk about it. Don't assume that "everyone who likes Teen Titans Go! are mindless sheeple." or complain that this show "ruined your childhood." Because forcing your opinion down other peoples throats will get you nowhere. And remember that no show last forever. In ten years from now this show will most likely be forgotten about. Think about how many people HATED Johnny Test just a few years ago, and complained about how much CN spammed that show. When was the last time anyone talked about that show? Meanwhile the original Teen Titans, a show that originally aired fifteen years ago, is still getting prime time reruns on Cartoon Network as recently as early 2018. And honestly, without Teen Titans Go!, there's a good chance that the interest in the original Teen Titans wouldn't have risen to the point where it is today. So you should thank TTG for that.  And to the people who defend Teen Titans Go!, I get it. It can be rough loving something when EVERYBODY online hates it. I went threw a similar thing when the Powerpuff Girls reboot came out. It sucks feeling like you're in the minority opinion, but remember that just because something is hated online, that doesn't translate to actually results. There's a reason this show is on it's fifth seasons and got a theatrical film. And if you love this show, if it really is your new favorite show, enjoy that fact that a show you love is as popular and influential as it is. But don't be a jerk about your opinion either. Don't belittle people for feeling passionately about a series and remember that not EVERY person who hates the show isn't some kinda "hater." Never assume that the worse people in a group represents the whole group. And never let other people force you to hate something you love. You're taste make you the individual you are, and never forget that.  I want to end this review with a line from Teen Titans Go! A line that I believe the show sadly forgot about, but is a message that I think is very important. Especially given the current climate of the cartoon community.

 This applies to all sides.  Hopefully this review was able to add something new to the table.  What do you think of Teen Titans Go? Leave any thoughts you may have in the comments down bellow. I love love to hear all opinions from both sides of the aisle, and start some conversations. Maybe help people gain some new perspectives. Also what did you think of the format of this review? Would you like more deep dive retrospects in the future? Please fav, follow, and comment if you liked this review and have a great day.

https://www.deviantart.com/joyofcrimeart/journal/Teen-Titans-Go-REVIEW-Part-2-755898579 DA Link

[drippinwalchemy]

This Thing That I’m Saying

Part 1 of the Either/Or Series

Summary: Simon and his friends have graduated from Creekside and are ready to enjoy their last summer together. Hanging out at Leah's one afternoon, Simon, Bram, Leah and Abby make plans for the rest of their time together.

Pairings: Simon Spier/Bram Greenfeld

Characters: Simon Spier, Bram Greenfeld, Abby Suso, Leah Burke, Nick Eisner

Tags: Fluff, Canon compliant, Gay male character, college, summer, angst, pining. 

Words: 2149

Canon Compliant with Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14134404

--

“I can’t believe you guys talked me into getting my face painted before we took all these” Leah groans.

“Aw, Leah that cat on your cheek is so cute though!” Abby exclaims.

“That’s Totoro,” Leah says, never missing a chance to correct Abby or an opportunity to talk about anime. “He’s like a giant rabbit forest spirit or maybe a small bear? It’s unclear.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” Abby deadpans, “Can’t believe I got a diploma never knowing who Totoro was.”

Graduation was a week ago, and we’re going through pictures from the senior party on Leah’s deck. I guess a couple of years before Alice was in high school some kids had left graduation and gone to a party where there was alcohol and they all drove home drunk. They were in a pretty bad car accident and one of them even died, at least that’s what the rumor was. Ever since, Creekwood has had a mandatory Senior Party right after graduation. All the seniors head to the school which is decked out in Creekwood color balloons, full of food, and set up with events and activities to occupy our time all night. We had gotten our faces painted, then decided it was a good idea to head to the photo booth. It’s pretty lame but we all secretly (OK very openly) had been psyched about it for weeks.

“Not a problem, we still have all summer to knock out that Miyazaki marathon you guys promised me!” Leah says with a smirk.

“Yes! And that Buffy marathon we’ve been talking about FOREVER. I still can’t believe you think I’m Cordelia-” Abby laughs, missing Leah’s purposefully obvious eye roll.

“Hey we talked about this,” Bram interjects, “we’re done making plans for this summer, graduation was a full week ago! Let’s start making some headway on this list of ours.”

“Yaaasss!” Abby howls, “we could really make some progress if Nick would hurry up already! Where is he? It’s not like our coffee order has changed over the last two years.”

Leah and Abby start guessing what was taking Nick so long: he had forgotten the drinks on top of his car again and they flew off as he clipped the corner out of the parking lot, he’d gone home to change out of his work clothes to look nice for Abby, he was at the hospital from burning himself on the cappuccino maker again.

Bram turns to me “You OK? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”

I realized I wasn’t talking as much today but honestly, I'm fine with that. I like listening to my friends talk, soaking up their banter. I woke up after the senior party reliving how much fun we had getting our faces painted, playing giant Jenga, Bram even did a cake walk but the prizes were a bunch of ridiculous pairs of boxers. All the soccer guys won a pair and wore them over their jeans, except Bram of course, he was so modest I think having anyone see him in his underwear even with a full set of clothes on would cause him to disintegrate (‘cept me of course). Since the party though I realized I had taken a back seat with my friends, watching them joke and make all our plans for the summer was something I knew was quickly going to change. After all we’re starting college in August, and aside from Leah and I we’re all scattering, even Bram and I, but I can’t think about that yet, I won’t.

“Yeah, I’m good,”  I say, grabbing his hand. “I’m just really happy it’s a Thursday afternoon and I’m somewhere other than Calculus.” God, why did I think Calculus was a good idea, college credit be damned there’s no way it was worth all that grief, although I did get to use the “Mom I need to go to Bram’s for help with Calc” excuse pretty loosely.

“Simon look at this picture of you and Bram!” Abby cooes, holding up her phone. Someone had taken a bunch of the “winners” from the night and posted them to Creeksecrets. On her phone is a picture of Bram and I laughing, me with my head buried in his neck, a hint of the Harry Potter scar I had painted on my forehead peaking out between my hair. Bram got a soccer ball on his cheek, he said it was the boring and obvious choice, I told him it was authentic. I smile and stifle this weird feeling in my chest that maybe words like ‘forever’ don’t mean what they used to.

“Oh my God look at all the hashtags on this!” Leah says grabbing the phone. “#CoupleGoals #Gay #Boyfriends #Spierfeld, you guys this is seriously giving me heartburn it’s so dumb and cute.”

“Aw, I love that picture Babe” Bram says squeezing my hand. We exchange side glances and I know he’s as over it as I am. Ever since we came out Junior year there seemed to of amassed a low key following on the Tumblr of straight girls who had essentially turned us into a meme. At first it was flattering and felt empowering almost, but it quickly became a very high key freaking nightmare. Leah says straight girls fetishize gay guys because we subconsciously remind them of what a heartthrob could look like in the absence of toxic masculinity (Leah started reading a lot of queer books when we came out to be supportive, she’s kind of like my gay guru). Bram has never been one for the spotlight and heck I had gotten so used to being an extra in musicals I never thought I would be at the center of my own story one day, let alone one about love. Dammit there’s that feeling again. Like my heart is beating in my throat and if I speak my friends will get covered in blood. I wonder if Elliott Smith ever wrote a song about this feeling, I doubt it, but I mentally add going through his song book when I get home to the other list of things to do this summer.

Leah senses Bram’s tone. “Look it’s weird for sure, and a lot of these sophomores really should be focusing on studying for the SATs, not fantasizing about you two.”

“Oh wow” Bram says under his breath. I think the idea of anyone but me fantasizing about him makes him nervous, let alone a 16 year old girl.

“But there’s a lot of people who look up to you for legit reasons, people you’ve inspired and people you helped in ways you can’t even fathom, just by being yourselves,” Leah goes on, “that comes with some responsibility so just revel in it while you can.”

Bram’s holding my hand tighter and locks his fingers with mine. I know what he’s saying as soon as he adjusts his hand. Sometimes I can’t believe how special he makes me feel. After prom, we all slept over at Nick’s house in his basement, Bram and I on a pile of blankets underneath his stairs (I may have made a scene to ensure we got the most Harry Potter spot in the basement possible). He fell asleep with his face towards me, his forearms wrapped up in mine. I must’ve stayed up for hours after he drifted off just looking at him, at his perfect knobby fingers and his gentle angled face barely visible in the light of Nick’s VCR clock. How could I be this happy at 18? Who gets to be this blissed out of their mind so early in life? I can’t help but think this means something is coming, I start thinking about the word forever again.

“Yeah guys sorry you’re so dang CUTE!” Abby chimes completely over exaggerated and thank god because this all got way too real way too quickly for how I’m feeling today.

“What gives you NEVER tell me I’m cute!” Nick runs in carrying five iced coffees and his guitar.

Leah and Abby look him up and down. “Definitely went home and changed,” Leah says staring at Nick’s henley.

“Oh you’re not foolin’ anyone with this caught up at work business babe, I smell your body spray from here, what did I tell you about that stuff?” Abby says “You won’t make any friends in Athens wearing that junk”.

“Hey I’m trying to save as much as I can for college and deodorant is expensive!” Nick replies. “Plus I’ve got like 6 flavors left from middle school, this one’s called Beast Mode ”.

“That’s horrifying.” Leah says grabbing her drink.

“Yeah please go shower this is not working for me” Abby says grabbing her coffee and pushing Nick’s face away playfully.

Bram and I both start cracking up as Nick slinks off to shower.

“OK you guys so let’s get to work on this summer then!” Abby says. “What should we do first?”

“Well I was thinking,” Bram says. “We had talked about getting away to the lake, I could ask my Dad maybe about going to his lakehouse next weekend?”

“Bram that’s brilliant!” Leah exclaims. “We should get out of town, I’m so sick of all these grad parties anyways. We get it Taylor Metternich, you’re going to Juilliard, I do not need to eat that information off a fucking cookie.”

“What do you think Si, want to go away next weekend?” Bram asks me. All I can think of is going away with him forever, whatever that means to me now.

“Let’s do it” I say with a smirk.

“What is who doing?” Nick yells from upstairs.

“We’re getting outta Dodge Eisner!” Abby yells back to him. “Make sure you get work off next weekend.”

Nick comes barreling back downstairs. “Yes! I love the lake, dibs top bunk!” Nick says without any hint of irony and Abby rolls her eyes and smiles into her hoodie.

Nick’s grabs his guitar. “Any requests?” He says.

“Play something to cheer Spier up” Leah says. “Where you at today Si?”

I’m a lot of places. I’m here, with my best friends, with my boyfriend. Shady Creek, my home my entire life, soon to be where I grew up. I’m at the end of Summer, I’m at Thanksgiving break when we’ll all be back and I’m even further out than that. I’m thinking about where I was, before I came out, when I met Blue, when I realized he was Bram. I’m everywhere between then and now. Once in physics our teacher said Einstein thought time was a circle and we could theoretically experience all of existence at once in the right dimension. I wonder if Einstein realized that before moving away to college.

“I’m just thinking about how much we still have left to do this summer!” I sigh. “How about some Tegan & Sara?”

“Aw Simon they’re so sad though!” Abby groans.

“That’s the whole point!” I exclaim and Bram starts to laugh cause I swear I’ve had this conversation with him so many times he could write a thesis on it.

“As you wish” says Nick, and he launches into an acoustic Leah’s deck version of Call it Off . Leah grabs Abby’s arm and gives her a side hug, Abby whips out her phone and starts an Instagram story filming Nick, he really is a good singer.

Maybe I would have been something you'd be good at

Maybe you would have been something I'd be good at.

Bram plops his feet up on my lap and I squeeze his calves, his cute firm soccer calves already starting to bronze from the week we’ve been out of school. I listen to Nick, to Tegan & Sara and look around and let myself feel what I’m feeling. I look at Abby and Leah, swooning and laughing and exuding the freedom that comes with this golden space between high school and college. I look at Bram, and oh my god it’s like looking at an eclipse, every muscle in my body transfixed on him while my nerves simultaneously burst into flames from how beautiful he is. I let myself be in this moment in my life, for today and for all the days that still remain in this perfect group of humans I get to call my home.

But now we'll never know

I won't be sad, but in case I go there

Everyday, to make myself feel bad

There's a chance that I'll start to wonder if this was the thing to do.

Leah and Abby chime in on the now we’ll never , and I close my eyes and feel the sun speckle my face through the leaves of Leah’s oak tree. I wonder if this happiness, our happiness, is worth the risk of the sadness it keeps at bay. It has to be, I tell myself as I hum the harmony and return to right now.

[taehyvnggs]

Park Jimin // “Side Hoe”

Summary: You didn’t mean to kiss Jimin...it just happened. And now you can’t stop thinking about it.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: there’s cheating:-(, mentions of sex

It was all a drunken mistake. Partying with Jimin was part of your normal weekend agenda. The goal was to get safely shitfaced and call Jungkook for a ride home. It’s what best friends do! Weekdays are reserved for Jimin’s girlfriend, Sana. That was just how the cookie crumbled, and you made a note to not complain about it.

The number one rule to your nights: Don’t get involved in games that may lead to a hookup. You didn’t have much to lose, but Jimin had his relationship on the line. Even piss drunk, Jimin understood this concept. That’s why his girlfriend trusted him so much -- Jimin knew where the line was, and he knew not to cross it.

Except when you both were stumbling home because Jungkook was out of town. He just kissed you underneath a flickering street light. It was completely out of the blue, but you still kissed him back. You didn’t regret it in the moment, but now you do. You haven’t even spoken about it with Jimin, and it was two months ago. You both have been distancing yourselves from each other. There are only brief conversations and small smiles when you walk past each other. You talk to Sana more than you talk to Jimin now.

You didn’t want to stop being friends with Jimin, but you assumed that it’d be better off that way. All you thought about was kissing him again. How could you possibly do that to him and his girlfriend? Coming between them was the last thing that you’d want. That being said, cutting off Jimin would reduce the likeliness of catching feelings. It made you feel like shit, but so be it.

~

“Jeez, Y/N. If you like Jimin, why not just tell him? You will get a straight answer!” Yoongi says before taking a sip of his coffee. His is hot and black while yours is iced and creamy. It’s the perfect display of how you two are polar opposites. It’s a miracle how you’ve both been tolerating each other’s presence for two months.

You cross your arms and lean back against the cafe’s chair. “That ruins friendships. Plus, I don’t like him!” you defend yourself. Yoongi never really understood the concept of “having feelings” because he’s too involved with work to see the googly eyes he gets from people. The other business majors are swooning after him but he’s got his nose so far up in his textbook that he’ll never notice.

Yoongi rolls his eyes and adjusts his dark hair. Under the day’s sunrise, it looks pretty good. “My ass. You’ve been talking about him awfully much. You have also been spending more time with me.”

“Yoongi, I always spend time with you when Jimin’s with his girlfriend,” you counter.

“Y/N, that’s during week nights. It’s five in the morning on a Saturday,” he responds quickly to prove his point. “I mean, I’m not complaining, because I love you as a person, but I can’t help you when you reject my advice.”

“Because I don’t want to see him, Yoongi. Every approach you have hurts me in the long run.” You sip your cold coffee and feel it make its way to your stomach.

Yoongi laughs. “Well that’s inconvenient for you. You’re both history education majors and have the same exact classes.”

“Damn Jimin for suggesting that,” you huff.

“You see him every day, dude.”

“I’ve been sitting with other people,” you mention. Jimin hasn’t really cared much about that. If he did, he would have confronted you about it by now. You’ve learned to accept the fact.

“And you’ve been seeing other people,” Yoongi adds, smiling cheekily at you. Part of you wants to vomit because you know he’s referring to himself.

“Not interested,” you say like it’s a chore.

“Wasn’t implied,” he smirks. “Morning, Hoseok.”

Yoongi scoots over so that Hoseok can sit next to him. He’s wearing a black sweatshirt and gray joggers. He looks dead tired with bags under his eyes and black coffee in his hands. At least he looks good while tired.

“Hey, lovebirds. What’s today’s topic of interest?” yawns Hoseok before taking a gulp of his coffee.

“Y/N’s plain and obvious love for Jimin. She should tell him about her feelings already. Agree?” Yoongi tells Hoseok like this is something you’d actually do. All you do in response is stare itently at Yoongi.

“Well, not all of us kiss our best friends and nearly have sex underneath a lamp post,” Hoseok states before drinking his coffee and looking away from you two.

“You did not tell me about that last part,” Yoongi snickers, almost about to break into complete laughter.

“She told me in vivid detail,” Hobi chimes, setting his cup on the table.

“I say you just tell him your thoughts,” Yoongi mumbles before resting his head on the table.

“But what about Sana? You know, the girl Jimin has been dating for six months now.” You glare at Yoongi for his dumb suggestion.

“Maybe she’s one of those girls that are like, ‘Tell my man you like him. It’ll boost his confidence. I won’t hate you for that because I trust him and know that he loves me,’” Hobi points out an obvious lie. Sana is very protective of JImin.

“Dude, she put another girl on blast for holding the door for him,” Yoongi states while showing Hoseok a Facebook post that you’ve read one too many times. It makes you wonder why she hasn’t done that to you yet. As of now, you are more than deserving. “She’s been pretty lowkey lately, so I wouldn’t fret.”

Hoseok purses his lips and looks at you with his scheming face. “If she trusts you enough not to blast you, why not just be Jimin’s side hoe?”

“I don’t condone the ‘side hoe’ concept and I don’t like being called a hoe. I also respect their relationship,” you scowl at the two nodding boys. How they think so little about a relationship stumps you.

“Side chick?”

“Yoongi!” you hiss at your friend, who averts his gaze from you. Neither of these boys would understand this if it hit them in the face.

“What’s stopping you from doing anything?” asks Yoongi, still not looking at you. “Are you scared of Sana?”

Compared to you, Sana is a pea. You both have the same demeanor, but hers is more intense. Physically, you could definitely take her on. Mentally, she would conquer you.

“I’m not scared of her. I simply respect her relationship. It’s common courtesy, asswipe,” you mutter, trying to reach over the table in order to whack Yoongi. He reacts quickly by taking shelter behind Hobi.

“Hey! It was just a question!” Yoongi yelps and hops back onto his chair when Hobi deems it safe. “Plus you didn’t respect their relationship when you made out with Jimin.”

“We get where you’re coming from. You still have to talk to Park Jimin about this. Relationship or not, it’s clearly been bugging you. Stress kills, Y/N,” Hobi lectures you.

“Fine!” you exclaim. “I’ll talk to him!”

“You’ve finally relented,” sighs Yoongi. “Let’s head back to campus now. We can begin our movie day without another Jimin discussion.”

The three of you slide out of your stools and push them underneath the table. You hold your coffee cup in your hand like it’ll warm you up, but it is doing quite the opposite. Your hands are not only ice cold, but they are wet too.

You are wedged between the two boys, walking sluggishly. As much as you enjoy five o’clock coffee, it has slowly been draining you. Yoongi and Hoseok are the only two that would voluntarily wake up at five in the morning for you. Jimin never agreed to waking up this early.

A boy dressed up in a white button down and slacks approaches the three of you. His droopy brown hair identifies hm immediately. Plus, that peace sign greeting wouldn’t be used by just anyone. How could someone look this extra so early in the day?

“Taehyung-ah, you’re going to get robbed if you’re dressed like that,” Yoongi scolds the smiley boy that begins skipping over to you. The kid’s smile lights up your day, but you’re still exhausted.

“Y/N! Yoongi hyung! Hobi hyung!” Taehyung exclaims, grabbing your cold hands. Hoseok pulls your coffee out of your hands so that it doesn’t spill. “How have you all been? I haven’t seen you in two weeks!”

You smile at Taehyung as he jumps up and down. He sways your hands side to side and you just let him continue.

“I’ve missed you quite a bit too, Taehyung,” you chime and go along with Taehyung pulling you around.

Suddenly, your wrists are wrapped by something cold. It’s finished with a click, and Yoongi shrugs once he’s done putting it on you. Handcuffs? Why? Is now really a good time to kidnap you?

“I’m so sorry,” Taehyung mouths to you. His smile has faded and been replaced by a frown.

“Yoongi?” you raise your voice at your friend while Taehyung picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You pound your handcuffed hands against his muscular back as they begin taking you somewhere.

“Y/N, we’re doing your dirty work for you because we love you,” Yoongi attempts to assure you. He tries too hard to sound nice, which in turn makes him sound evil with an ulterior motive. You retaliate by kicking Taehyung as hard as you can.

The boy carrying you groans in response to your actions. “Y/N, you don’t attack your allies!” Tae whines while Yoongi ties up your ankles.

Hoseok stares innocently at you as he drinks down more coffee. “This wasn’t my idea.”

“Whose idea was it?” you shout at all three boys knowing that they are all scared of you. “Min Yoongi, was this your idea?”

Yoongi steps behind Taehyung so that you can get a good view of him. “Half,” he admits. “The rest was Namjoon’s.” He smiles at you and gives you a thumbs up. You simply glare at him, as well as everyone else that was in on it.

“This looks illegal, but I promise it isn’t. You do get something good from this,” Taehyung says to you. His own stab at being reassuring doesn’t help your cause either. This causes you to punch Taehyung’s back.

“None of this is enlightening!” you screech, elbowing Taehyung’s shoulder blade. “Let me go, you assholes!”

“Personally, I am against this. The outcome will be beneficial though,” Hobi says between sips. As soon as you’re released, he’s the first person you’re going for. He can act as innocent as he wants, but he’s still doing nothing to help set you free. That’s punch-deserving.

Eventually, you give up flailing and let Taehyung haul  you to wherever they want to keep you hostage. They’re too clumsy to purposely inflict damage upon you, so you’re not scared -- just anxious. These boys are exhausting.

“You three give me angina,” you quip when you realize you’re being brought to a park. It’s not one of you go to often, but you’ve been here a handful of times. Each time you’ve been here, it was with Jimin.

In the distance, you can hear shouts. Because you don’t have the strength to lift yourself and look, you remain slumped over Tae’s shoulder. Now is one of those times where curiosity does not get the best of you. Considering this could be a kidnapping, you should probably at least care a little bit. Too bad you don’t care anymore. You want this dumb thing to be over with. These boys aren’t capable of purposely doing anything bad to you.

“They look like they handled that terribly,” whispers Yoongi when he gets a glimpse of people from across the park -- likely the ones that were shouting. He winces, which causes Hoseok to do so too.

“He looks dead,” Taehyung points out all too casually. He’s only giddy because you’ve stopped hitting him. He’d be grumpy if you had continued the assault. “Did they kill him? Oh my.”

You shoot up and try to look past Tae. Unfortunately, you can’t see anything because Taehyung swivels you away. “If you’ve witnessed a murder, you have to report it!” you yell, beginning to flail again. If you’re in the midst of murderers, there’s no way you’d be caught dead here. Literally.

Yoongi shushes you and waves his pale hands in your face. “We didn’t witness it! The guy’s also alive, so stop yelling bloody murder this early in the morning!”

If you had the ability to cross your arms, you would’ve done so. Instead, you pout and give Yoongi angry brows.

“Hey, guys,” Hoseok greets people you cannot see.

“Good morning to the four of you,” grunts an exhausted voice. You could recognize that voice anywhere.

“Kim Namjoon! This is all your fault!” you wail. “Kim Taehyung, let me down this instant!”

“Apologies,” Namjoon smiles sweetly at you and frees one of your hands from the cuffs.

You take this opportunity to try to jump from Tae’s grasp. Realizing your attempted escape, Taehyung grips even harder onto you. You hit his shoulder blade again and he merely endures it.

“I don’t forgive you,” you answer Namjoon and look away from him.

“Then I guess I won’t feel bad when I do this,” replies Namjoon. You feel metal around your free wrist and then a click following it. It wasn’t even the cuff he just unlocked -- he put a whole new one on you. “Have fun!”

Taehyung promptly sets you down and you look over at the other end of your second handcuff. A light silver-haired boy smiles weakly at you. Your first instinct is to hit his shoulder. Hard.

“What was that for?” Jimin asks while the other boys run off to a dreary tree across the park.

“For not talking to me anymore!” you reply with an angry frown. “I missed you, idiot!”

Jimin stares blankly at you, and you take his bareface in all its glory. He’d never wake up this early for you...so what did Namjoon bribe him with to get him out of bed? “What are you talking about? I’ve been trying to text you everyday for the past two weeks to confront you about it and you hadn’t texted back. I assumed you were mad at me, and I know you like your space when you’re upset.”

“Texts? I didn’t get anything,” your voice slowly enters a mumbling tone. “Please don’t lie to me, Jimin.”

Jimin fishes in the pocket of his gray sweatshirt and pulls his phone out. He clicks it on and you notice that his lockscreen is an old picture of the both of you from high school. It was taken in a shady photobooth on a sketchy part of town. Part of you is grateful for still being a key part of his life past the odd turns.

“Look,” Jimin says as he scrolls through a series of text messages, “I sent a good morning and goodnight text every single day. No response from your end.”

He’s not lying. He did send you messages every single day. The question is: why didn’t you get the messages?

You pull out your phone this time and show him your thread. There’s nothing, just a text asking for homework answers that Jimin didn’t respond to. When he didn’t respond that day, you started avoiding him more often. That settled it between you two.

“My messages say delivered,” jimin says as he peruses through his messages. “If it didn’t go to you, then where’d they go?” he asks sadly.

Suddenly, you press the contact icon to see your phone number. To both your dismays, that phone number isn’t even relatively close to yours. It’s just a bunch of random numbers that doesn’t look familiar at all.

“You’ve been texting a stranger,” you tell him.

“That’s Sana’s number…” Jimin rolls his eyes. “She must’ve switched your contact information. I’m so sorry, Y/N. She probably blocked your number too.”

“Your girlfriend’s a psycho,” you sneer and tug your end of the handcuffs away from Jimin.

“Ex-girlfriend. We ended it a week after you and I kissed. I had to tell her.” Jimin smiles sadly at you. He looks absolutely heartbroken. This isn’t what you wanted. Jimin doesn’t deserve this.

“Come here,” you say and pull Jimin closer to you with your free hand. He places his head on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Chim. You dated a psycho. Did you break up with her?”

He sighs; his forehead still pressed against your shoulder like it’s home. “She ended it. I didn’t think she’d be jealous of you.”

“Why is that?” you ask as you rub his back to comfort him. You’re a little offended because are you not worthy of being jealous of? Well, you didn’t really want Sana to be jealous of you at all...but still.

“Because she was everything that I needed! I loved her so much, Y/N.”

Your heart aches at those words. Your best friend, madly in love with another girl. You never saw Jimin as the type to fall in love, and you never wanted to be his girlfriend. Your friendship had been extremely platonic until he put his lips on yours. That was the game changer.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Yes I did. I kissed you.”

“Okay, so you deserved that, but you didn’t deserve to have our numbers switched like that. Sana did a shitty thing,” you clarify.

“If my breakup means I get more Y/N time, then I have accepted the fact,” Jimin says, pulling away from your shoulder so that you can see his face. He has a great big grin, but his tear-stained face says otherwise.

“Jimin, if we’re going to be friends again, I have to be truthful with you,” you sigh and look down at his black Pumas.

“Of course!” Jimin sways your handcuffed hands side-to-side.

WIth a deep breath, you quickly say, “Truthfully, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. That kiss was...completely unexpected. I know that you knew you were kissing me, not your girlfriend. I keep wondering why you did it, and why I didn’t stop it. There’s a possibility that I have feelings for you, but I haven’t admitted it to myself yet.”

He stares at you. His eyes look like cinnamon in the light. His lips are now pursed, not smiling. Just the sight of him has your heart lurching. Did you say the wrong thing?

“I’m sorry if that’s creepy and taints our friendship. If you don’t want that, I’ll make Namjoon unlock us and I’ll never speak to you again.”

“Y/N…” Jimin says to you very calmly and quietly.

You turn away and shake your head to avoid his stare. This is the end. All of those years have gone to waste. Maybe you don’t deserve a boy as wholehearted as Jimin. Karma has decided your fate, and you have accepted it. You kissed jimin; it’s only fair.

“No, Jimin. Don’t pity me. You know I hate when you do that -- of all people.” You look back at him with tears in your eyes. It’s not that unrequited feelings hurt, but you’re losing JImin, and it’s official this time.

“I wish you would’ve told me this sooner,” he says to you while wiping tears away from your face. His hands are warm in comparison to your cold wet face. You knit your brows together, which causes him to laugh at your vulnerability.

“I was scared to lose you,” you say once he pulls you into his arms for an awkward handcuffed hug. “I can’t keep spending my mornings with Yoongi! He’s getting tired of me.”

“I love Sana,” Jimin murmurs into your hair.

“I know,” you reply with more tears that dampen his sweatshirt. “I’m sorry for coming between you two.”

“Let me finish, Y/N-ah!” JImin laughs at you as he rubs your bac with a free hand. “I love Sana, but I love you so much more. Yes, I felt bad for kissing you, but it was a weight lifted off of my chest. You are beautiful inside and out --”

“Like a mango?” you ask before wiping away the last of your tears.

He sighs, “Yes, like a mango. You know every last bit of me. Sana wasn’t very happy when I told her about what happened, but she made out with another guy not long after we called it quits. That goes to show how much she valued me. Jungkook told me that she was at some party on top of another guy while we were dating. He didn’t tell me until after the breakup though. That dumbass.”

“So you both were unfaithful,” you point out, not really feeling much sympathy as the ‘side chick,’ in Yoongi’s words.

“What I mean is,” Jimin pauses and looks at you.

“I’m waiting.”

“Well…” he trails off, causing you to vie him a confused look.

He quickly kisses you, one hand on your hip and the other lacing his fingers with yours. It’s not like last time, with the bitter taste of alcohol on his lips. This time it’s much more careful and slow.

“Get a room!” Jungkook shouts at you two, causing you to pull away from Jimin with a cherry red face.

“I don’t promote sex,” Seokjin says from behind you. “It looks like you don’t need these handcuffs anymore,” he adds, pointing to your laced fingers.

“I didn’t know that you were here, Seokjin,” you say, slightly startled by his appearance.

“I assisted Namjoon and Jungkook in hauling Jimin’s sorry ass here,” replies Seokjin while pulling out a small key from his pocket.

“They made Jungkook carry me because both of them are old and weak,” Jimin tells you while simultaneously making a face at Jin.

“Don’t make me handcuff you again, kid.” Jin glares at his friend once he sets you both free.

“Sir, yes sir!” Jimin grins at his hyung.

“No sex is safe sex!” he shouts back at you, walking away from the scene.

“Someone better tell Hoseok that,” you giggle and lock your fingers again.

Jimin pulls you closer to him and places a sweet kiss to the top of your head. How wonderful it is to be loved by him again.

[sol1056]

hi. i have a quick and possibly dumb question but i'd like to know your opinion on vld+racism. fandom has claimed several times keiths and allura's relationship is written in a racist manner. i don't agree with that claim but i do think voltron's writing can get borderline(???) racist. how? in the way they write the alien races that have been oppressed by the galra empire for the longest time. something in the way they are all... mentally weak seems off. what do you think about this matter??

(sorry for the delay, lots to unpack here)

Okay, so there’s several issues. One is the way Allura is written, and the way the narrative treats her, when it comes to her (completely justified) distrust/hatred of the Galra. 

The second is the political aspects of the alien races. I’ll just say… this is bad writing. You’re right (in postscript to the ask, not quoted here) that ‘mentally weak’ is kind of a loaded term, but I would say the formerly subjugated peoples are… insipid. 

Part of the problem in writing a really smart or competent character is that you have to be fairly good, yourself, at figuring out what defines being ‘smart’ or ‘competent’. For Hunk and Pidge, it’s pretty straightforward; we give them hard problems to solve, a smattering of quasi-technical lingo, and then we have them solve it. For more complicated matters like diplomacy and warfare, it takes a really analytical (and savvy) mind to come up with a solid ‘third way’ that will strike the reader/viewer as ‘smart’. 

But if the writers can’t think up something brilliant to put in the characters’ mouths, there are a few tricks they often fall back on, to compensate. One, they stack the deck so the only resolution the writers can think of is, in story, the only possible resolution. Two, they can either make sure no other character questions or devils-advocates, OR if that would be wildly OOC, they find a reason that character isn’t present, OR they bypass the whole thing by stacking the character deck. 

(An example of the last is when Keith says in S3, “we need to go after Lotor, now”, and Shiro insists on an alternate plan – rather than debating which is better, the rest of the team simply falls in line with Shiro, and Keith’s plan is overridden. The writers just bypassed having anyone say, “hold on, which of these is really better?”)

So when it comes to the aliens, to make Allura seem like a politically savvy character (which she patently is NOT), and to make Kolivan seem like a militarily savvy character (which I’ve come to realize he also is NOT), either we give them really good ideas that show their competence… or we make sure everyone else around them is just that much more ignorant. 

Parallel to this, if we want to show that Allura is bringing people together, then either we show how she does that (yet another complex and difficult skill set) or we have her say something moderately acceptable and stack the deck, there, too. Writers do that by removing all possible agendas or conflicts from the listeners. The aliens are basically just place-holders, timed to cheer on cue. 

If the writers were certain Allura’s or Kolivan’s words would be convincing in their own right, then we might see aliens raising questions, or pushing back with their own agendas – and yet we viewers would remain in Allura’s or Kolivan’s corner, as a convinced audience. Instead, the writers are relying on those insipid aliens to be the plants in our audience. 

On a cynical day, I might be suspicious that the EPs/writers actually lack the imagination to realize they’re even doing this. If they think already that Allura or Kolivan are that smart and competent, and see the written words/actions as the Best Course of action, then it might not even occur to them that anyone would protest. Of course everyone would go along. 

But even on my cynical days, I can’t help but think that even bad writers have to have at least some awareness of humanity. Put nine people in a room to decide on something big, you’re probably going to end up with at least two arguments and seventeen opinions. Even with Keith’s outburst (which was neither full argument nor alternate option, in the overall scheme of things), the kind of meeting we saw in S3 with the aliens just never, ever works out that smoothly. Never.

tl;dr: they made one character look extra-smart by writing the rest as stupid.

As for the first question, about Allura and racism… @stitchomancy linked to a post I can’t find right now, but there’s a trope about the Racist Black Woman in Space. And the only thing I can say is: this writers’ group is predominantly white, and predominantly male. I get they’re trying to address an elephant in the room of the racial conflict between Alteans and Galrans, but they’re badly equipped to handle it. They’re writing from a position of privilege, and it really shows. 

They skipped the massive emotional beat of the reveal, they did it on the tails of hugely swinging audience sympathy towards the poor kid who just discovered his hidden ancestry, and they isolated Allura as the only one reacting so badly (Coran, for the most part, is neatly kept in the background, so we don’t really know what he thinks). So instead of seeing Allura’s distrust as entirely justified, the narrative supports that we should see her as behaving like, well, an irrational racist who’s hating on Keith solely because of something outside his control and boy isn’t she just nasty about it. 

(I’m not even getting into the agonizing cringeyness of watching a WoC apologize to a coded-white-guy about her – totally justified!! – hatred for a race that systematically destroyed her people. Just no.)

If they had done it right, and given us a narrative that actually supported Allura, it could’ve had a powerful impact. It could’ve also laid the groundwork for why Keith (in S3) wouldn’t actually care if Allura lost her way and got left behind. She threw him away, in a sense, and whatever loyalty lies between them is still somewhat damaged, as a result. But again, since the narrative continues to affirm Keith’s POV, from the outside Allura just looks kinda irrational, and biased without reason. 

And that dynamic does come across as racist, as a result, and that’s entirely the fault of the writers for the way they established, framed, and carried through the emotional beats (or lack thereof). In a way, I don’t see downgrading the alien races into insipid head-nodding puppet characters as anywhere near on the same level as their treatment of Allura, but it does kind of stem from the same place: something is holding the writers back from digging into those opposite points of view, that might contradict or undermine the direction they want the viewers’ loyalties to lie. 

As an addendum, it’s entirely possible the writers might want to be exploring these deeper questions, but keep in mind: Dreamworks and Netflix are both US-based companies. Americans historically have a very, very, very difficult time talking about race. Remember, this is a show ostensibly meant for kids (cue think of the children), for an audience that unconsciously has swallowed the notion that ‘the only ones who talk about race are racists’. 

It might not be far from the truth to say any exploration the writers do write (or suggest writing) is getting shut down from on-high, and the result ends up being an emotionally-truncated and emotionally-incoherent result.  

[thisdaynews]

Operation Amotekun: What Igbo Leaders Should Learn

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/operation-amotekun-what-igbo-leaders-should-learn/

Operation Amotekun: What Igbo Leaders Should Learn

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The creation of southwest security outfit, AMOTEKUN, is a direct message to the Islamic federal government that the west of the country won’t accept its larger plan of arming Fulani jihadists and throwing Nigeria borders open to welcome more reinforcements. We’re in a country where Fulani jihadists are armed with assault rifles and allowed to roam freely. Thousands have been slaughtered by them, communities have been razed down, and more mayhem promised. After each killing campaign, Miyetti Allah, the umbrella body of Fulani herdsmen, will address press conference flanked by the Nigerian police.

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TY Danjuma has since been screaming that the current Nigerian leadership has a sinister agenda. Of course, Danjuma should know for he has been up there with them. Obasanjo have added his voice too. And Obasanjo should know for he too has been there. It’s also important that both Danjuma and Obasanjo are now realizing that they didn’t fight for one Nigeria, instead, they fought for the subjugation of the rest by the caliphate.

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The purpose of this article, however, is to awaken the consciousness of the Biafran to the unfolding events. Southwest have both political parties, APC and PDP, states. When it comes to issues that matter to them they united to pursue an aim. The national leader of APC, Tinubu, is from Lagos state. There is no one political leader, whatever party he or she belongs, that is opposed to Amotekun. It’s something for the security of all Yoruba against the Federal Government. Yes, Federal Government.

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Tinubu, having observed the caliphate’s intention to monopolize power, has thrown his weight behind Amotekun whose creation has sent a strong message to the Fulani oligarchy that its plan is unacceptable. This is not all about security – it’s also about 2023 presidential race.

From the formative stage of Amotekun to its fruition, Yoruba political players and traditional leaders held several meetings, yet not one of them let the secret out. Not one saboteur! They didn’t let in Joe Igbokwe or Loretta Onochie; however, they love the duo. The funding went smoothly. The recruitment and training went without notice. Perhaps because all attention was on IPOB. They spoke with one voice. The Fulani-led Federal Government found it difficult to deal with the matter because every Yoruba backed the move. Can the Igbo learn anything here? The greatest bane to our freedom is internal enemies.

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Observe that whenever the Yoruba meet to discuss the all-important response to the Fulani-led Jihad plots, they do not advertise it. No one knows they are meeting. For instance, we just saw Amotekun, but we all know a lot of plans and meetings went into it. How didn’t it leak? Igbos should learn to keep secrets. We call them cowards but their actions have spoken louder than words.

Since the floating of Amotekun, the Fulani-controlled Federal Government has been jolted. They just don’t know how best to respond yet. And this tells the significance of Amotekun. The East can do it too if we can trust ourselves and work for ourselves. Biafrans have the widest of connections worldwide. But we need unity. We need oneness; we need ourselves; we need one voice; we need each other’s support; we need a rallying point, a rallying figure. We need one purpose, one dream, one pursuit, one mind. Our resources and strength of industry is an unmatched asset. The idea of wanting to swallow each other so as to hold sway is our greatest bane.

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See how Tinubu follows Buhari at daytime but at night-time turns to his people. This way they pulled this huge surprise. Not so with any of us. Once our people get a foothold on government they pitch tent with the caliphate. We’ve never had a set of dumb governors as we have now. The Fulani wish is their command. The great work of IPOB though is resetting the minds of millions of Igbo youths. This work is growing, and of course, cannot be ignored. The war against IPOB is a war no one can win. You can’t muster huge resources against a course you think will end in vapours.

Published by: Chibuike John Nebeokike For: Radio Biafra Media Facebook Comments