#to avoid being crushed on a direct line bu

[thatscarletflycatcher]

"Why don't we read more critical theory, I feel the environment of this college oppressive" says dude who is paying hard money he hasn't earned to study humanities at a private university, minutes before picking a taxi to go home at rush hour, 100 dead, 400 injured.

[alextturcotte]

there are just a bunch of rants besties. yall better buckle up for this one💀

these aren’t directed at anyone in particular, this is just what i’ve noticed after being on tumblr for a while💀 also these are my opinions so you dont have to agree with anything, this is just me ranting lol

rant #1

i actually can not believe that there are STILL people on this app supporting trevor zegras. Are y’all high or something?! Because the last time i checked he SA’d a girl and liked trump’s tweets. I do not care if “the girl actually lied about it” you ALWAYS believe the victim and honestly i have not ONCE seen the evidence that he did not. I see so many anons and people defending him saying that it was proven false and all a lie, like um ok where is the proof? Show me rn. As soon as a blog asks where the proof is, all of a sudden that anon disappears and doesn’t get back to them. Something isn’t adding up there. The whole liking the trump tweets situation i can kinda understand why TZ did it (and a bunch of other athletes as well), the dude is an athlete and wanted the country to “reopen” so that he could obviously play the sport he’s passionate about but even with saying that, it doesn’t justify that it’s literally trump. I am 100% NOT defending him or any other athletes actions. 

rant #2 

why do some people actually have the audacity to get mad when a hockey player gets into a relationship... please explain that to me because i don’t understand that logic whatsoever. Like I get that you have a crush on them but babes you can’t act like they were even yours, to begin with. You can’t go living life thinking your favourite hockey player is going to stay single forever, it doesn’t work that way. I’ll never understand why people get so butthurt and throw a fit because of it. Also, the fact that some people have to bring their fav players’ S/O down to get some sort of validation and make themselves feel good is the most fucked up shit EVER. I saw a post on here that said something along the lines of “it’s always girls supporting girls until they start dating ur favourite hockey player. They all of a sudden have all these faults and flaws” and that is SO TRUE. Everyone can be like “omg this person is so pretty” and shit like that till they start dating someone. All of a sudden they’re a bad person, they’re a slut, they’re not pretty anymore, not in that person’s league, etc. Just you what?! STFU!! Stop being a fucking jealous bitch and get on with your life. I don’t get why people do this. I honestly have more things to say about this but that’s for another time. 

rant #3 this one might be a little controversial but i'm willing to risk it all

The fact that we’re sexualizing hockey players that have a family makes me feel icky. Like bro, they have a literal CHILD and you’re writing fics about their parent and sexually talking about them.... They also are fucking MARRIED TO SOMEONE. I know that wags don’t really care about that stuff but it still feels almost wrong to me. I get that people find them hot and stuff but idk it just feels weird and off. And i know that no matter what people are going to do this anyway but for me it just makes me feel super weird and uncomfortable. So personally i try and avoid when people talk about sexualizing them. I’m definitely 100% NOT shaming anyone who does, just to make that crystal clear and i’m definitely NOT judging anyone who does. This is more for me and what I'm comfortable with. No hard feelings to anyone!! 

rant #4 

I absolutely hate when blogs on here act like they’re all shit and know everything and just all around act like they don’t need to listen to anyone. Like, calm the fuck down becky, get off your high horse and stop acting like that. You don’t need to make other blogs feel bad just because they didn’t know something that apparently “everyone knows”. It’s just fucking exhausting and annoying to see. You don’t need to make other people feel dumb so that you feel smart. Like hate to break it to you but you’re just making yourself look fucking entitled and a complete bitch. Another thing is that they always have to be “different”. They can’t put the *keep reading* for fics, they can’t put fucking trigger warnings on posts, they can’t be respectful when lbing a game. They don’t bother reading a whole post and reading the tags because i’ve seen a few times where someone shows their face and says VERY VERY clear that they do not want it reblogged but some people actually just go ahead and do it anyways like why can’t you just be respectful to others and stop acting like you’re all that. When someone calls them out on something they always say that “oh i didn’t realize” or “oh i’m sorry I’ll remember that for next time” like bro very disrespectfully shut the fuck up. I’m so so sick of blogs acting so entitled and so fucking selfish. And to kinda tie into the TZ situation and just bad players in general, it’s the fact that y’all know they’re bad people and yet you choose to support them and shit but as soon as what they did is brought up again you jump on the bandwagon and pretend to care but as soon as it all dies down you got straight back to supporting them. That’s the one thing i will genuinely never understand.

[deitysnips]

Regrettably Attached Pt. 1

Stark!Reader x Loki

Word Count: 2958

Authors Note: I wanna thank you guys in advance for reading this. I haven’t written anything in probably 6 years so it might be a little sloppy. I am open to suggestions and any fixes you guys can bring to my attention!

Summary:; You’re Tony Stark’s younger sister and you are somewhat part of the Avengers, but behind the scenes, not necessarily on the front lines unless you’re needed. This is an UA where Loki is living in the compound living under strict supervision and the reader slowly starts falling for the God of Mischief after hating him due to, yaknow, trying to kill her brother and some of her closest friends, but that quickly turns into lovers(obvi)

Growing up as Tony’s sister was and still is kind of terrifying. Tony has always been such a “smarty pants” for lack of a better phrase. Even with him being a child prodigy, you two have always been close and you would want it any other way. You grew up following in his and your fathers footsteps.

Years past and you have graduated with multiple engineering degrees and even though your mother and father weren’t here to see it, Tony always made sure you knew how proud they would be of you. No graduation, presentation or ceremony went unattended by the now Iron Man. So it was no surprise when Tony asked you to join him and the other Avengers at the compound to help with logistics and help Tony and Bruce create safer suits.

“Hey Kid! Get down here, we need your help!” 

It’s been 5 years that you’ve been living with Tony and still, nothing surprises you.

“Hold on! I just got out of the shower!” You shouted from your cracked bedroom door. You quickly put on some extremely worn jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt that you MIGHT have stolen from your older brother. You cracked open the door once more and yelled to Tony

“Is this a no shoes project?!” You sat with your head out the door tapping your fingers along the door frame when someone threw what seemed to be a wad of paper at the back of your head. You groaned and sucked air through your teeth. “I swear to the gods, Rogers, if you don’t stop throwing shit, I’m gonna curb stomp you” You said as you turned your head to send a glare towards Steve. To your unpleasant surprise, it was not Steve, but the annoying, somewhat attractive God Of Mischief, Loki

“Oh, my dear, Mr. America isn’t the only one who likes to get under your skin” Loki said very nonchalantly while leaning against his own door frame. “Now if you don’t mind. Stop that obnoxious yelling. Some of us are actually trying to work and not be babied by their dear brother.” Loki glared at you from where he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. 

You and the god have never been on good terms, even after the pleading Thor gave you when he brought him back from Asgard after its destruction. You wanted to believe him when he said that his brother had changed and was working towards being a better ‘person’, but it still left an unpleasant taste in your mouth since, you know, he tried to kill your brother.

“Get fucked, Loki.” You stepped out of your room, body completely turned towards the man in front of you. “I have told you multiple times to leave me alone. Tony might be okay with you being here, but I certainly don’t give a shit what happens to you.” You spat at him with venom and malice in your voice. Tony told you time and time again to try to be civil with Loki, but you never listened. You just couldn’t. 

You continued to stare at the slimy, yet oddly handsome man-god thing in front of you and if looks could kill, he wouldn’t be breathing.

“Hey, kid, did you not hear the urgency in my voice or do you enjoy giving me a heart attack?” You jumped when you felt your brother out his hand on your shoulder. “I told you that yes, you did need shoes. Bruce and I really need your help on the Mark VII suit- wait, sis, are you alright?” Tony studied your face after turning your shoulder towards him with a worried expression

“Yeah, I’m fine Tony. Let me just grab my shoes and I’ll be down” You pulled away from your brother and ran into your room, slamming the door behind you. You sit with your back against your door and hide your face in your hands, groaning loudly.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” You whisper softly to yourself. You’ve been at such a crossroads when it comes to the trickster god. You hate him for what he did to Tony and your friends, but at the same time, you can’t help but have this… attraction to him. The sharpness of his jawline, the softness in his bright blue eyes, or the way his lips curl up into a cheeky little smirk when he does something that riles you up. It’s been a year and a half since Thor brought Loki back, and you still haven’t adjusted.

You let out a long sigh of frustration as you stand up and walk to your closet pulling out a loved pair boots. After you pull your shoes on, you finally find the strength to walk out of your room and start heading towards the workshop to find Tony and Bruce. You make a pitstop to the kitchen to grab some coffee and a small snack

“Hey FRIDAY, can you ask if Tony and Bruce want anything?” You call out into the empty room while making a PB&J sandwich”

“They both say nothing at the moment other than your presence, Miss. Stark. Mr. Stark said it is very urgent and they need you down there quickly” 

You groan as you toss the butter knife into the sink and start walking down the stairs to the workshop. Once you enter you see Bruce leaning over one of the tablets with his hands running through his hair.

“Alright, what did I miss?” you say as you take a bite of your sandwich, causing the men to look up at you, seemingly irritated. “Whoa whoa boys, what the hell?” You raise an eyebrow at your brother who’s sitting across from Bruce, impatiently tapping his fingers on the desk. Tony sighs and stands up to walk over to his computer, pulling up the internals of the suit

“For whatever reason, the suit keeps overheating after about 10 minutes and we cannot for the life of us figure out why” Bruce says while Tony is flipping through all the internals for you. You can’t help but smile and giggle a little bit.

“Alright kid, what's so funny? Tony asks, slightly glaring in your direction.

“Oh no, nothing. Nothing at all. But, uh, unrelated, how long have you guys been working on this?”

“A couple h-” Tony goes to speak but is interrupted by the suit powering up, seemingly without issues.

“Big brother, you’re a terrible liar. When I woke up yesterday morning, you both had already been down here working on it. It was a simply missing variable and a loose connection.” Tony and Bruce both keep switching between the suit and their respective computers trying to figure out how they missed such a small thing.

“How the fu-” “LANGUAGE!” Steve yells out as he stares coming down the stairs. Tony rolls his eyes and starts going through the internals again before smacking his palm to his forehead. “Thanks kid”

“No problem old man, now go get some rest.” You say, patting Tony on the back.

“Hey, can I talk to you really quick, Squeak?” You groan loudly at the nickname that the team gave you when you first showed up. You were so nervous about making a good impression, that when you started to speak, all of your words got stuck in your chest and all that came out was a little squeak.

“Yeah Cap, maybe if you stop calling me that god awful nickname, like I've told you to do multiple times!” You both start walking up the stairs and you playfully push Rogers shoulder, knowing it won’t do much. 

Once you make it up the stairs, Steve leads you to the living room and sits at the couch across from your favorite chair

“Alright, if this is an intervention, I’m leaving. I get I shouldn’t be smoking bu-” You stop talking when Steve lifts his hand up and just stares at you with a dumbfounded look “This isn’t an intervention, but maybe it should be- yo- what?!” Steve gets a little loud at the end of his sentence, catching the attention of Tony and Thor who are in the kitchen making some lunch

“STEVE SHUT UP” You blush slightly and hide your face in your hands again.

“Conversation for another time, anyways” Steve pulls your hands away from your face and makes you look at him and quietly says your name “What was going on earlier when Tony came up stairs? I was in the bathroom down the hall and I heard you yelling at someone? Was it Loki again?” You avoid eye contact but nod slightly. Steve lets out a small sigh and sits back

“What he did wasn’t even terrible, Cap. He threw a ball of paper at me and basically told me to shut up. I just get so irrationally angry at him for what he tried to do to my family. Tony is all I have left. I know that everyone has told me to make nice and just fake it for the sake of all of us being here almost all the time, but I can’t. I'm just so confused and..” You stop yourself and look up at Steve who is intently listening.

“What are you confused about, doll?” He raises an eyebrow and you start blushing again.

“I- I don’t wanna talk about it..” You whisper softly and glance over to where Tony and Thor are at. As much as Tony begs you to be nice and try to be civil, he would not hesitate to beat your ass if he found out that you were harboring a crush for the trickster. Steve leans in and whispers

“I think I know. I may be from a different time, but I know a crush when I see it.” He pulls back and smiles at you and for whatever reason, this makes you angry.

“WHAT?! You think I have a little schoolgirl crush on that fucking murderer?! HE TRIED TO KILL TONY MULTIPLE TIMES!” You yelled at Steve as you stood up, tears stinging your eyes “I would NEVER mess with the likes of Loki, whether he's a God or a prince of whatever the hell he is!”

“Squeak, now hold on-”

“No, Rogers- Leave me alone!” You storm away from him and go up the stairs leading to your bedroom. Once you get to your door, another wad of paper is thrown in your direction, but this time you catch it. Turning towards where the paper had come from, was he himself.

“Hello, darling. I heard you and Rogers speaking about me” He smirks ever so slightly and starts slowly sauntering over to you. Once he gets close to you, you pull a dagger out of the sheath around your thigh and press the tip to his chest

“I suggest you leave me the hell alone, you psychopath.” You grit your teeth as you finish your sentence and Loki puts his hands up in defeat and takes a few steps back

“My my, little one. I didn’t know you could be so feisty.” He chuckles slightly and crosses his arms over his chest. “I just wanted to have a civil conversation and see if we can come to an understanding about where my loyalties lie and try to get your tiny Midgardian brain to understand that I’m not the same person I was.. Before” 

You sheath your dagger and pinch the bridge of your nose hopeful to fight off your frustration.

“Look, Loki. You may not realize the severity of what you did, but that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna accept that you’re some righteous person-god- whatever the hell you are.”

“Oh, good heavens, no. I’m not righteous whatsoever, darling. Never have been, never will be. But” He points a finger at the ceiling and smiles “I can promise you that I do not plan to murder anyone… in this building” 

You smirk softly at the humor in the tricksters voice and cross your arms over your chest. 

“So how about that conversation?” You gester to him to come in your room but when you look back at his face he has a rather dumbfounded look on his face

“What a minute, 45 seconds ago you had a bloody dagger to my chest, ready to skin me alive, but now you want me to come into your room with you?” Loki walks closer to you slowly still with that dumb look on his face.

You place your hand back on your dagger and laugh “Just because I’m inviting you into my room, doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to stab you if you give me a reason to.” You wink at him and walk into your room, where you kick off your shoes and lounge in the recliner at the far corner of your room. 

The rooms at the compound were not small by any means. Each room has a giant California king size bed, a double walk-in closet, its own little mini fridge, plus enough room to have 2 Hulks lay side by side on the floor.

You have yours decorated in your signature color, with white accents on the furniture as well as copious amount of liquor bottles on the top of your bookshelf.

Loki saunters in after a few seconds and takes a seat on your bed, directly in front of you. It seems like he’s… admiring you? He won’t look away and seems to be studying your face, how your wavy hair falls softly from the messy bun on the top of your head, how your eyes sparkle with the sun coming through the windows, how your lips are just a subtle rosy color, indicating that you either suck of chew on them when frustrated.

“Are you gonna say anything or are you just gonna sit here and stare at me all day?” You blush softly and stare right back at him

“My dear, if I may be rather brash, it just seems like something seems of worry to you, my apologies. But, yes, where would you like me to begin?”

You and Loki sat there for 3 or 4 hours talking about what really happened when Loki invaded New York, what happened to his mother and how Asgard was completely destroyed by his and Thor’s elder sister. Half way through the conversation, you had pulled down a rather nice bottle of Whiskey and two rocks glasses, pouring both of you a drink while Loki was reliving what he described to be the most painful part of his life. There you sat with the man you had sworn to hate until your last breath, actually feeling sorry for judging him so harshly. But who can blame you?

“Wow” You said after he had finally finished. You looked down at your glass and it was empty. While Loki was explaining everything to you, you had finished 4 or 5 full glasses of whiskey and were starting to feel a little tipsy

“Loki, I am so indecently sorry. All of the times Thor and I had talked about what happened, he never once told me how hard you took everything.”

Loki scoffed a little and looked at his glass “Well, my story really isn’t for my brother to tell, and he never really understood my feelings on the matter. I never really spoke to him about it. It was really only me on my own.” He shrugged softly and finished what liquor he still had in his glass “I really hope this changes your viewing of my, darling. I truly meant what I said. I have zero intentions of harming anyone in this compound.”

You shook your head a little and pushed the hair that had fallen into your face back “But why tell me all of this? Why tell the one person who probably hates you the most in the tower all of your worries and how at fault you feel?” You looked up from your glass when he chuckled.

“My dear, I know you don’t truly hate me. You hate what I did to your brother and the Avengers.” He leaned forward to be at eye level with you and spoke very softly “Do not forget, little one. I can read minds, you know” He winked at you and sat back in his chair

“I- you what now?!” You sat up straight and your face became very flushed. How could you have been so naive? Thor had mentioned it a couple of times that he believes his brother could read thoughts, but you never took it to heart.

“Miss. Stark, it seems as so Mr. Stark is worried about you. He has no idea where you are and I didn’t think to make him privy of your location.” FRIDAY interjected before you or Loki could say anything regarding the mind reading matter.

“Thanks, FRIDAY, can you tell him I’m up in my room? I don’t think I’ll be able to walk after the amount of alcohol I’ve drank” You chuckled slightly and rubbed your face with your hands.

“Right away Miss. Stark. Oh, it seems as if your brother is coming to see you.” 

You internally began slightly panicking because as much as Tony wanted you to be civil, I don’t think he would want you damn near wasted with the God Of Mischief in your room.

“I shall be on my way, darling” Loki stood up and walked over to you. He rests his hands on the back of your chair and soon your face to face.

“Conversation for another time” He quickly places a kiss to your cheek before disappearing in a green cloud.

What the fuck is happening?

[freddiekluger]

please drop the essay length analysis Judas and Jesus (extra gay Swedish edition), O great and knowledgeable monarch of our times

alright, you ask i deliver! please excuse any typos, my eyes aren't exactly working rn

welcome to my probably super subjective but correct analysis, aka

Judas Was Right and Jesus Was A Victim (At Least, In Swedish)

Before we get started, a couple points: i’ll try to avoid comparisons to other specific productions, i’ve only seen the other recorded 2012 british version which i didn’t like for reasons including but not limited to the amount of white people with dreadlocks. Also, my understanding of swedish is limited to a couple words and phrases, so most of the lyrics i reference will be english subtitles from Ola Salo’s swedish translation and therefore might not be the most accurate !

There’s so much i could cover in this, but for now i’m going to focus on how jesus and judas are portrayed in the 2014 swedish arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar (JCS) starring Ola Salo as Jesus and Peter Johansson as Judas, along with how this production more implicitly views god. 

From the opening number, translated into swedish as En Dimmig Himmelsdröm (A Foggy Heaven’s Dream), Peter Johansson’s acting and semantic differences in the lyrics present us with a deeply sympathetic portrayal of Judas. Looking purely at language, the english equivalent Heaven On Their Minds instantly paints Judas as much more of a faithless doubter- lyrics exclusive to the english version like “all your followers have gone blind / too much heaven on their minds” and “they think you’re the new messiah / and they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong” strongly enforce Judas’ main motivation for his actions being that he has less belief in Jesus and God’s plan than any of the other disciples with strong statements judging the other disciples for following him and claiming that Jesus ISN’T the messiah. The swedish translation doesn’t paint exactly the same picture- the focus of Judas’ number becomes his fear for Jesus’ wellbeing, not because he isn’t the messiah (the production remains fairly ambiguous on this point), but because Jesus can’t cope. The root of Judas’ concern comes from fear for Jesus’ wellbeing, and the disciples are referenced as regularly misunderstanding and wilfully twisting Jesus’ words. The swedish equivalent lyrics for the above examples are “they say, “jesus is god’s son” / but you know how people can change” (judas isn’t concerned with truth, just the danger that jesus will be in if the tide turns), and “the kingdom of heaven is within us, that’s what you said / bu they sew it, stitch by stich into some kind of foggy heaven’s dream”. Judas is showing that he HAS been listening and cares for Jesus’ teachings, but ‘they’ [his disciples] are turning them into something else entirely, and Judas’ worries that the support of the masses is fragile at best- the lines “and everything you say gets twisted by your lackeys / it will be anything but what you’ve said”  and “you are being used by people who want you in their battle” reinforces this again. When combined with Peter Johansson’s tough but tender performance, in which he dances between disdain for Jesus, the institution, and affection for Jesus, the man (an important distinction), Judas is the harsh realist doing his best to look out for the man he loves. The way he takes Jesus hands and looks at him with love and urgency straight away establishes that his motivations are pure- Judas is doing what he thinks is best, even though it feels like no one will listen to him. 

That was long, but En Dimmig Himmelsdröm is the perfect character introduction for Judas. He’s not totally unrecognisable, still delivering digs about ‘Jesus, the little carpenter’s son’, his manner is still rough and at this point we’re not sure whether or not the claims he makes about the disciples have any truth to them, BUT we can also see how much Jesus means to him, an important point that give context to the intensity of their future arguments and really makes the whole story much more heartbreaking.

This brings me to Ola Salo’s Jesus. Delightfully camp and queercoded, Judas describes him as being caught up in his own magic and mystery and buckling under the pressure, and he’s not entirely wrong. Throughout the first act, Jesus basks in the luxuries that being messiah can give him (the oils Mary paid for using disciple funds that were supposed to go towards helping the poor, him absolutely thriving in the shopping cart in What’s the Buzz?), and is shown actively avoiding any reminders of the seriousness of his position. He’s sick of the disciples asking him for a plan, he chooses the comforting Mary, who’s theme consists of telling Jesus everything is okay and he doesn’t need to think about anything, over Judas, who is less perhaps ‘cosy’ but is actively trying to warn and protect Jesus from an awful fate. During The Temple, he starts to crack as he’s overcome by the followers begging him to make him well, fear in his eyes as he raises his arms while frozen on the spot trying to avoid being devoured by the frenzy in desperate need of a messiah. Judas’ point about Jesus buckling under the pressure is starting to look more and more reasonable, and the dashes of showbiz campness add to the sense that much of Jesus is a persona constructed for the masses to give himself enough distance to prevent him from being crushed by the weight of God entirely. Jesus, the institution, prances around, lays his hands on his followers, and projects an air of easygoing calm. Jesus, the man, is scared and alone, and Jesus, the man, really comes out in Last Supper, but before we get there, I want to circle back to the Jesus/Mary/Judas thing.

Jesus, Mary, and Judas are presented as a love triangle: so much so, that Judas seeing Mary sing of her love for Jesus (I Don’t Know How To Love Him) is actually played as the inciting incident that sends him to the pharisees. Judas, the picture of the jealous lover, storms onto the scene, breaking them up and attempting to kiss Jesus, who instead shoves him to the ground in disdain. Judas, who is perhaps a little controlling, realises that any influence he had over Jesus has gone, and it’s likely a combination of jealousy and the knowledge that Jesus won’t stop that prompts him to head to the pharisees. In his meeting with the pharisees (known in english as Damned For All Time, although that phrase doesn’t appear once in the swedish), Judas’ expresses outright that “I’m the one who sees / Jesus, he can’t handle it anymore” “the truth is that this hysteria is making him lose control”, once he can get past explaining how much this plan of action feels like a last resort. He never even verbally or physically accept the pharisees’ offer of money, he denies it twice before it is eventually thrown over him after he reluctantly gives them the date and time to find Jesus- we never even see him pick it up, unlike other productions which show Judas grabbing for the cash and place a higher emphasis on Judas making sure he ‘won’t be damned for all time’, painting Judas as far more self serving. When it comes to Jesus, Judas is active- he’s running around trying to help, caressing him, embracing him, grabbing his hand, kissing him. They share countless moment of intimacy, especially at the start, establishing the fondness between them instead of instantly jumping to their conflict. When it comes to Mary (and admittedly, this is partially because she’s a secondary character- don’t get me wrong I still love her and Gunilla Backman does a brilliant job), she’s much more passive. Other than the much more gentle kisses in I Don’t Know How To Love Him and her penchant for dabbing Jesus’ forehead, she’s mostly just ‘there’. She cares for Jesus after the fact, and even when performing acts of intimacy like the oil and the kiss, she maintains a lot of physical distance- her songs touch on this as, much like Jesus (admittedly for different reasons), she actively distances herself from feelings to protect herself, so naturally she literally places distance between herself and the object of her love.

This brings me back to Last Supper, Gethsemane ( I Only Want to Say), and the kiss of death that broke all of our hearts. Throughout this segment, this is when Jesus, the man, really comes through, and it’s devastating. In Last Supper, he properly expresses the sheer amount of loneliness he feels, reiterating how he feels everyone will forget about him once he’s gone, and doesn’t really care about him as a man (”for you, my blood is not worth more than wine / for you, my body is not worth more than bread” “you will have forgotten me as soon as i give up my life”). This devolves into the disciples fighting each other and, you guessed it, ignoring him. For the first time, Jesus meaningfully lets out his anger, and as it turns to Judas, Judas does the same. Because of the set up of their complicated romantic relationship and the stakes involved, the amount of personal attacks and anger that comes out of Jesus and Judas’ repeated fights (which get physical) make complete sense- Jesus’ frustrations come from the fact that his entire fate has been predetermined and to him, Judas is just another instrument in the ways he’s been controlled (both with Judas being his betrayer, but also the way that Judas’ constant advice and interference with Jesus’ life (most obviously, the mary thing) are acted by Ola Salo as becoming increasingly frustrating to Jesus)- these frustrations are directed at their real cause, God, in Gethsemane. Judas’ frustrations come from the fact that no matter how hard he tries to help Jesus and keep him safe, Jesus keeps rejecting his efforts resulting in “all that we’ve built up [being] destroyed”- Judas’ heart hasn’t just been broken by Jesus rejecting him romantically, but on every level. Here, he’s actually shown to be the disciple most passionate about helping people practically and long term, being the only one concerned about Mary taking money which was supposed to help people, manipulated by the pharisees with the promise of doing good for the masses, and criticising Jesus for how they could be doing so much for people, ending his part of Last Supper with “every time i look at you i ask myself why you let all your things go so wrong? / all i ever wanted was to help you”. 

This is also the point where Judas’ claims about the disciples are essentially confirmed, and this productions intent to portray Judas as more of a tragic hero become absolutely clear. In the english version, the disciples chorus remains virtually the same each time it appears, generally being far too calm considering their leader is about to die, revealing their aspirations to be apostles, and their intent to write the gospels to be remembered. the swedish translation still achieve this, but with variations from chorus to chorus it becomes much more poignant. i’m just going to stick to ttwo, which are choruses 1 and 3. In chorus 1, lines roughly translate to “i’ve always wanted to be an apostle / life is so nice when you’re saved/ then when we’ve got time we’ll write the gospels / then everything will be the way we want”-  the apostles declaring that life is so good when you’re saved supports Judas’ opening statement that they care more about some idea of heaven than anything else, not to mention ignoring the absolute horrors that Jesus will have to go through to be saved, while the final line about the gospels introduces their intent to change whichever details they need to make ‘everything the way we want’: once again, exactly what Judas warned us of in En Dimmig Himmelsdröm. In chorus 3, taking place after Judas storms out for the last time, these lines change to “never really liked that judas / never saw what jesus saw in him / then, when we’ve got time we’ll write the gospels / and we’ll angle it so he gets all the blame”. Judas as a sympathetic character is confirmed here, as the disciples straight up admit how they don’t like Judas anyways and intend to write him as a villain (also inadvertently admitting that, since they have to write the gospels to make it look like only Judas’ fault, Judas isn’t really the sole one responsible for everything that is to come). It’s deeply unsettling, and for me was the point where I really began to question how good any of these disciples were, and by extension, how good is this production’s God if his truly sanctified followers are acting like this?

Jesus vents out all of his anger and desperation in Gethsemane. He acknowledges his own powerlessness and begs him to change the plan, but with the dark stage and no response (along with Ola Salo’s spectacular acting) it becomes clear that if anyone is there, they’re certainly not listening (”you, who have all the power / can you please change the plan / for i can already feel the pain burning in me”). It’s worth mentioning that a lot of the imagery in this swedish version is much more intense than the english, both in this song and the production as a whole. Jesus plainly calls god “thoughtless”, begging to understand, and it’s that this point we realise that he agrees with much more of what Judas has been saying than he’s been letting on- Jesus’ faith appears to be the only thing keeping him from listening to Judas and running away. Judas’ messages about people misunderstanding Jesus’ words also come out (”you care that everyone sees / but not that anyone understands”), and his eventual agreeing to die is played less as an inspiring act of faith, and more an act of desperation as he realises, he realise has no other choice. In this song, we see just how much of Judas Jesus has valued and taken on board, and that his air of carefree aloofness which frustrated Judas was, as we’ve already touched on, a complete act. The line “might as well finish what i’ve... what YOU’VE started” is absolutely miserable, reinforcing one of the major themes of this production: the idea that Jesus and Judas were both just ordinary men tormented by futures defined by forces out of their control. Just as Jesus has absorbed Judas’ logic, as an audience so we have, and it’s difficult to view the rest of the play’s events as anything other than an immense and unnecessary act of cruelty.

we’re almost done i promise!

Even knowing what Judas has/will do, Jesus still greets him with love. Judas, still under the impression that Jesus will be okay and that he’s doing what’s best, approaches him with the utmost tenderness, and the kiss is a beautiful signifier of two things. For Jesus, the return of his love for Judas shows his realisation in Gethsemane that Judas isn’t the one who’s sealed his fate and has only being trying to help, it’s god himself who has decided Jesus’ future. For Judas, the kiss shows that despite all of the anger and frustration that has been pouring out of him, he truly does love Jesus, and the way he cradles the scared and alone Jesus to his chest afterwards shows just how much he wishes he could be the one to help him and keep him close. Even with all their arguments and dysfunction, here Jesus and Judas find comfort in each other, and it almost seems like everything will end up alright. It’s in this moment that Judas and Jesus are most identifiable not as enemies, or as villain and hero, but as archetypal lovers from a Shakespearean tragedy. Neither of them set out to hurt each other, but through miscommunications, their own flaws, and external forces (both natural and supernatural), their love is simply never to be. Furthermore, in the following torture and spectacle, everything that Judas predicted for Jesus is about to come true. Another detail I find interesting is the way that Jesus and Judas both sport black nail polish, leather pants, and similar length hair: along with just looking cool as hell, the similarities really reinforce how close they are and how much they influence each other- it feels like a contemporary version of carrying a cameo or a lock of your lover's hair with you, a way for 'star crossed lovers' to keep a piece of their beloved no matter what.

The disaffected persona of Jesus, the institution, comes back as he’s taken by the authorities and subsequently insulted, degraded, and whipped. Also the swedish version of The Arrest, when the chorus starts singing questions, contains this dick joke and I think we all deserve it: “why were you dating a whore? / talk about a huge magic wand!”

Skipping forward to Judas’ Death, this is where both his character and the production’s conception of god beautifully (and miserably) align. When Judas runs to the pharisees, minor semantic changes (along with the genuine concern and great acting from Peter Johansson) reinforce that this Judas genuinely didn’t know that Jesus would be beaten and sentenced to death the way he has been, and Judas’ concern regarding how things look is played less as ‘oh no people will hate ME!’, but how having sentenced the man you love to death is one nightmarish thing, but for everyone to think you did it knowingly and willingly and then congratulate you for it is unthinkable. Where the english shows Judas’ attempting to evade responsibility for Jesus death, the swedish is more focused on Judas’ guilt, horror, and regret. The english “I’d save him all the suffering if I could / don’t believe our good / save him if I could” is swapped in swedish for “If anyone should die here I should / don’t say I’m good / better if I died”. While the english statements are somewhat empty (sure, Judas says he’d save Jesus’ suffering if he could, but he can’t so we’ll never truly know) and are still focused on Judas’ attempt to construct himself as a good guy, the swedish translation has Judas admit his guilt (even if it’s not really his fault), and make the promise of “better if i died” which, given the name of this sequence, he later delivers on. When english Judas sings “Christ, I’d sell out the nation / For I have been saddled with the murder of you”, swedish Judas sings “Jesus, I’ve been deceived / because of my act your blood’s now being spilt”, and instead of ending this first section with “I should be dragged through the slime and the mud”, swedish jesus returns to the theme of character assasination with “i will be cursed as the one behind your murder”. 

The swedish translation of the next rework of I Don’t Know How to Love Him also places much more emphasis on Judas’ genuine romantic love for Jesus- we’d be here for hours if i listed everything but here are a few key contrasts. The english has Judas sing “I don’t know how to love him /  I don’t know why he moves me”, whereas the swedish has Judas crying while singing “how do I show my love / all I want is to be close to you”. Along with acknowledging Judas already loves Jesus, the entirety of this segment is shifted from Judas singing about Jesus in the third person ‘he’, to a direct address. Judas isn’t performing his sadness, or venting his emotions, he’s emitting one last desperate cry to the man he loves as he sobs on a stage completely shrouded in darkness, and it’s devastating. Peter Johansson lets his voice run raw as he’s belting, and interrupts lines with sobs, and this Judas answers the question of “do you love me too? do you care for me?” with a quiet “no”- Judas is about to go to his death convinced Jesus must hate him, just as Jesus will face his knowing his love inadvertently put him there.

We finally reach Judas’ actual death, and the production’s far more ambiguous (if not negatively geared) depiction of god comes to a head. Judas’ screaming at god the moment he realises that his god essentially forced Judas to be the one to kill Jesus (an act of ultimate cruelty given their love) comes across as horrifying in it’s validity, unlike in other english language productions where it follows the more common characterisation of Judas being an unbeliever who can’t take responsibility for his own actions. When he spits on the ground, screaming “you have murdered me!”, we can’t help but agree- Judas was trying everything he could to stop Jesus from dying, and yet here he is. Most notably, Judas doesn’t set up his own suicide- a noose literally descends from the heavens, already tied, and Judas is literally trapped between the edge of the stage, and the symbol of death behind him. Much like he didn’t choose to kill Jesus, Judas has no choice in his own suicide- it’s suggested to merely be another part of the plan god has for him, and Judas raising his arms to form a crucifixion pose before he finally turns and jumps, disappearing into the depths of the theatre as the rope trails down (somewhat evocative of a leap to hell), highlight the sick joke. Much like Jesus begging in Gethsemane, a plea with god that in anyway implies fault or cruelty is met with silence followed by a death sentence. 

When Judas reappears to the broken and bloodied Jesus in Superstar, he appears as more of a twisted hallucination than the literal spirit of Judas. He’s the opposite of everything he was in life, draped in colour, surrounded by red lighting instead of the signature blue, his hair quite literally let down, joking and dancing. Despite singing about him, Judas virtually ignores Jesus for the whole song except when he’s taunting him, snatching his hand away after a broken and desperate Jesus reaches out for the image of his beloved (refuting Judas’ belief that Jesus would die hating him), along with the swedish additions of Judas repeatedly addressing him as “little Jesus”. Where the living Judas was serious, sometimes harsh but always well intention, often paying more attention to Jesus than he received, this Judas is the opposite: light hearted but cruel, not caring about Jesus one bit. It’s somewhat an inversion of the beginning of JCS, where the tormented Judas was constantly reaching out to Jesus, and often met with scorn and insult (see: most of their arguments, this line from Everything’s Alright: “the thought is beautiful but quite unrealistic / yes, even quite stupid”). As the song goes on, and even as Jesus is crucified, the victorious scoring of the Superstar theme ends up reinforcing the cruelty and questioning of god distinctive of this production: Ola Salo’s Jesus is one of the bloodiest Jesus’s (Jesii?) I’ve been able to find, with blood covering his torso, his arms, and all over his face, not in passive dribbles, but violent ‘swooshes’ spreading out from his eyes, emphasising the fear and pain contained within them. As the music suggests how great and wonderful Jesus’ death is, the images straight out of a horror movie before us don’t seem to match up: as both Judas and Jesus question, if no one is understanding what Jesus is saying, why kill him? instead of making a point, you’re ensuring that the falsehoods continue to circulate, unless spreading the true message isn’t really the intent at all. or, simply that Jesus was wrong: his interpretation and teachings of god were far too kind and practical, and the true god really is the one that he briefly saw in the garden of Gethsemane, and that Judas saw before his death- a cruel and vindictive god using them for his own sick purposes. If you're a strong Christian, I'm sure you could watch this production and still believe that God was right (although I think Jesus and Judas being in love counts as blasphemy), but I think in doing so you'd lose part of what makes this production so hard hitting and, as i keep saying, devastating.

that’s pretty much it for this one! i feel like jesus and judas as a queer couple is less significant to this production than the fact that it’s specifically jesus and judas that are in love - they don’t face explicit homophobia as such, although i do think the paratextual and historical associations of queerness (both with them each looking visibly queer, and them as a couple) adds a beautiful dimension by subverting the standard christian teaching of Jesus’ sacrifice as “a love that changed the world” and making the love that truly could have been transformative (and was, to a degree) the love between Jesus and another man, not to mention the way in which queerness is often viewed as radical perfectly upholding the ‘radical’ views of god and the story of Jesus shown in the production. Why wouldn’t the love between two men be the love which has us questioning god, faith, and that which many of us have been taught since birth? Ola Salo has talked about how he’s able to be positive and negative towards christianity, along with how he wanted Jesus and Judas to really represent two sides of the same coin (’faith and intelligence’), and being bisexual along with having alluded to being raised christian (not to mention Breaking Up With God, a song by his band The Ark), it’s not surprising he’s managed to present such a nuanced and layered interpretation of Jesus Christ Superstar that even me, a trans exvangelical, can fall in love with.

UPDATE: @bands-and-hobbits has just let me know that Ola's dad was a priest! Apparently he's said that he liked the organs and the music, but that was all when it comes to christianity, which (when combined with Ola stating in interviews that the JCS soundtrack has been one of his favourite albums since he was 14) makes a lot of sense about the level of familiarity he had with the text giving him confidence to go in and make changes to really capitalised off of some of the themes that are hinted at in the english version- you have enough information to understand how everything works together, but aren't so dedicated to preserving belief that you feel you can't improve/change things (and my god are we glad he did)

[spyoikawa]

Peonies for Goshiki Tsutomu, you can write the confession however you please.

@2-player-game yay, another new character! Thank you for this request!

Also, I would figure people would know this seeing its goshiki, but just in case, ⚠️spoiler warning for the karasuno vs shiratorizawa game⚠️

Rion's Flower Shop: Peonies

(Goshiki Tsutomu)

♡romantic♡

Goshiki was REALLY clueless when it came to having a crush. And it didn't help that all his senpais had different ideas on how to woo a person.

"Do it in the spring with cherry blossoms, I see that in manga a lot!" -tendou

"Try writing a song or poem, thats something they can treasure forever, and its made just for them" -semi

"Just tell them, the worst that can happen is a rejection" -shirabu

He wasn't sure who's advice to take, so he ended up pushing it away for a while. He had to focus more on his volleyball matches anyways.

But thats harder to do than he thought, seeing how you never failed to miss a match.

Everytime he looked up, he could see you in the audience, watching the match as intently as possible. And if he was completely honest with himself, thats where it started. When he sees you watching the ball, and the players, and the court with a passion and support for your school.

And it was after one of these games, that goshiki spoke to you for the first time. Or rather, you spoke to him.

"Hey!" You piped up, "Goshiki!"

He nearly dropped all his stuff right then and there, and it took everything the team had not to laugh at him.

"Y/N! I mean- y/n, did you need something?" He stammered out

You grinned, happy to see he was willing to talk with you. "Yeah! I just wanted to let you know, you did great back there! The line-shot was incredible, and you looked so confident, like you knew you were gonna hit it no matter what! It was amazing!"

*goshiki.exe has stopped working*

Well what does he say now?! His crush is right in front of him, and they just complimented his play-

"You could be the ace someday!" You interrupted his thoughts.

That's it. Nope. Goshiki was a goner.

"Give me one second" he silently said to you, before whipping around, dragging his teammates around the corner. Everyone was a little confused at this.

"Um... goshiki...? You alright there?" Semi asked, "you look pale and red at the same time, I dont think that's norma-"

"WHAT DO I DO" he cut through his senpai's sentence, "I dont know what to do- I mean I know I could just tell them, but that seems to basic doesn't it?"

Shirabu rolled his eyes at this, "dude. Just do it. Or don't, if you dont feel like doing it, then say 'thanks for the compliment yada yada' move on and leave, not that hard"

Goshiki sucked in a breath, knowing he was right. "Okok, I got this"

He walked around the corner, facing you again.

You tilted your head a bit, "you ok? You look pale and red at the same time? You don't have a fever right?"

*cue muffled laughter of tendou and semi*

"I'm 100% a-ok, I am good, thank you for the compliment, and thank you for coming to our games, have a good day" he stated before walking away, leaving you to stare in confusion.

And now comes the hardest part for the both of you. The avoidance.

He really didn't want to go through that experience again, speaking to you, he felt like his heart would leap out of his throat and he doesn't want to be caught like that.

His solution? Don't speak to you for months. It was rough, seeing you enjoyed chatting with him about random things and volleyball. And it was rough on him to have to avoid you, simply because he didn't know how to handle this sort of thing. And he went all out to make sure you didn't cross paths. He would do a full 180 in the hallways, even if he was talking with someone else or his class was in the other direction, after practice he would clean up at speeds that freaked out the team, and did his extra practice someplace else, knowing that you come to the gym after school.

Time passed, and soon came the next game, against karasuno.

It was rough on everyone, the team fought so hard, only to be swept down by the new team who came to the top out of nowhere. It was crushing to everyone, the 3rd years played their last game and they were so confident in winning.

Goshiki was by himself, packing his stuff before you came up behind him.

"Goshiki?" You quietly asked.

He jumped slightly at this, and panic flooded his senses when he realized you were here.

"Y/n- what are you doing here? The game ended ages ago, why didn't you go already?"

He was nervous, but he'd be damned if he showed it.

"I wanted to speak with you," you started, "I'm really sorry about the game, I know you were excited and ready for it"

He sucked in a breath, not ready for the pep talk that would allow the fact that they lost to really settle in.

You continued, not noticing, "and the thing is, you did your absolute best, so it doesn't matter! Because I know that despite the outcome of the game, you are the better volleyball player, and- wait are you ok?"

You had paused when you realized he was looking up at you. And before you knew it, he was hugging you.

"Please stop," he barely whispered, "please don't say that. Just let me have this and it can be said without you speaking"

You loosened your body, releasing the initial tension that took you when he embraced you.

"Right sorry, I'll be quiet now" you whispered.

After what felt like ages, he released you and wordlessly gathered his stuff. You walked beside him in comple silence to the bus stop.

"Hey... ive gathered my thoughts now" he mumbled, voice raw from the earlier game, where he had used so much breath and yelling.

You looked up in curiosity, "what are you talking about?"

He inhaled sharply.

"Im sorry for avoiding you for a while, and I'm sorry for telling you to stop talking earlier. I was upset. I was so focused on volleyball and what would happen, but the season's over now. So I guess I can say it now"

The bus he would take pulled up, interrupting him for a second, opening the door.

"I like you, and I wasn't sure what to do"

And with that he pecked you on the cheek, and walked into the bus without another word. Leaving you stunned.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

*across the road*

"👁👄👁"

"👁👄👁"

"👁👄👁"

"😐"

"D-did he really just do that?" Tendou stammered out in confusion.

"I guess so...?!" Semi's eyes were wide open, watching your shocked figure, still frozen at the stop after the bus had left.

"At least he did it. Horribly. But he did it" Shirabu sighed, "what do you think senpai?"

Ushijima looked over, realizing he was being addressed, before shrugging.

"Im glad he did what I told him to do" he stated simply before walking away.

"WHAT-"

I'm sorry if this was bad, I'm really not familiar with goshiki, but it was still fun to write! If you want me to try again, let me know and I will fix it!

God I really feel like I messed up sorry-

But still, thank you again for the request, it let's me try new things! And to those of you who aren't aware, this is a part of my event, so go check it out please!

[xxcyj]

Comfort 2.0

Comfort pt 2 is finally here! I hope you guys like it. Honestly this was kinda hard for me to write lol Anyway requests are open so feel free to request anything~ Masterlist << right here 

Part 1

Genre: Fluff Word count: 2.7k Summary: Confession time 

The sun rise was truly beautiful, you wondered why you never watched it before. You made a mental note to watch it another time. Maybe after a full night’s rest? This was your first time watching the sun rise and it was all Choi Yeonjun’s fault. You were tossing and turning the entire night and barely slept a wink of sleep; finally giving up at 5 am and just sitting at your desk and busied yourself by browsing the net. 

It had been like this recently as Yeonjun seemed to occupy your mind. Absolutely making it hard for you to concentrate during your classes and assessments. You were praying to any gods out there that this torture would end before your exams started. Studying was already difficult as it was.

Your thoughts were interrupted with a good morning text from yours truly, Yeonjun. In the past, you never really thought much of it. Yeonjun and you would just text each other good morning to annoy each other to see who was awake first or to remind the other person that it was the morning if they had been pulling an all nighter.

Good morning munchkin~

Normally, you didn’t pay mind to whatever cute and cheesy nickname Yeonjun had thought of that morning as he only used them because he was a major flirt. However, this morning, you found your heart skip a beat and flutter. You tried your best to shrug it off and rolled your eyes while writing your reply.

‘Morning junnie 

You set your phone down only to hear a familiar ping go off as you were about to roll back into bed.

We’re gonna be in the recording studio today~ wanna come?

A blush spread onto your cheeks as you read the invitation. It really wasn’t a big deal, Yeonjun often invited you to their recording sessions as you found the whole process fascinating. So why were you blushing a like a fool as you stared at the message on the screen. You found that your thumbs hovered over the keyboard as you hesitated answering the question. 

Yeah sure, when?

Good enough. Yup.

12! We can hang out before my session  [ attached selfie ] See you there munchkin!!

Dammit. He just had to add that selfie. It was a little obvious he had just woken up as his face was still swollen and his hair was a mess, poking out in multiple directions. However, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking how incredibly handsome he looked. There goes your heart again, skipping another beat like it’s playing jump rope or something. Placing your phone on your desk, you walked over to your bed before burying your face into your pillow. 

“Why did my feelings decide it was a good idea to catch feelings for my best friend” You muttered into the pillow as you let out a frustrated scream before turning around to look at your phone that rested on your desk.

It had been about two weeks since that walk to the bus stop. And you had been acting like a fool in those two weeks, getting flustered easily while trying your best to seem like everything was normal. You had talked to some of your friends about it and they all suggested to confess along with saying that it was time you finally realised you had feelings for him. 

The thought of confessing did occur to your but you backed out and just planned on letting the crush fade. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship with Yeonjun, the thought of everything going down the drain because of a simple confession made your insides churn. Not that Yeonjun would be a jerk about it but you knew it would probably make everything awkward. You knew Yeonjun and knew that he would try his best to let you down easy and pretend nothing happened but that would just make everything worse. 

Your thoughts swirled into a mush as your eyes finally felt droopy as you were thankful for finally being able to sleep.

You opened your eyes to the sound of your ringtone. What? Still a little froggy, you walk over to your phone and answer without looking at the caller ID.

“Y/N? Are you still coming?” Yeonjun’s voice startled you as you take the phone from your ear and check the time. 12:25. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I fell asleep.” You reply back put your phone on speaker and start scurrying off to the bathroom to get ready.

“It’s alright. Taehyun’s in the recording booth first so I’ve got sometime to kill. Wanna get some food?” You tried your best to listen to him but the running water drowned out most of what he was saying. 

“Ummm yea sounds good! Text me the details.” You call out as you finish washing your face and start brushing your teeth. Hurriedly, you finished brushing your teeth and wiped your face with the towel from the rack. “I haven’t had breakfast.”

“Perfect! Ok, I’ll text you the address of the cafe. How long do you think you’ll be?” He asked, you stood there not having single idea. Usually in situations like this you would just throw on a pair of leggings and a hoodie with a bare face before calling it a day and leaving. 

But here you stood in front of the mirror suddenly feeling a little self conscious.

“Y/N?”

“Oh, give me twenty minutes! I’m so sorry!” You profusely apologised as he just chuckled and assured you it was fine. 

“Alright see you soon Y/N” Yeonjun said before ending the call. You quickly rushed over to your closet and examined it before nodding to a skirt and a long sleeve shirt. As for makeup, you didn’t have much time so you only put on bb cream, eye shadow, lip stick and brows. Looking at yourself one last time in the mirror, you decided to just leave your hair down before calling for a taxi.

Yeonjun sat at the corner of the cafe dressed in a grey shirt with a green flannel and a pair of black jeans. Although he was wearing a mask, you could tell it was him by the hat you had bought him a few months back. Subconsciously, you fixed your hair before walking up to the table where he sat. 

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late. I’ll buy your drink to make it up to you.” You said, catching his attention. He looked up at you, even with his mask you could tell he was smiling by his eyes. 

“It’s alright but we should get the drinks to go and just have them at the studio.” Yeonjun said as you both walked to the counter.

“I’ll have a caramel macchiato and a salmon beagle please.” You spoke to the cashier before asking Yeonjun what he wanted.

“I’ll just have an iced americano please” Yeonjun answered before taking out his card to hand to the cashier.  

“Wait no, sorry I’ll be paying.” You interrupted and pulled out your card. However, Yeonjun just shook his head and pushed your hand out of the way before giving his card to the cashier and typing his pin on the machine. 

As you both walked off to the side to wait, you stared at him until he finally looked at you.

“What?” He said leaning in and lightly tapping your forehead. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you pay did you?” 

“Yeonjun, I said I was gonna pay for you to make up for me being late.” You pouted and put your hands on your hips. Instead of intimidating him, this only made him chuckle and ruffle your hair, making your heart beat faster. Please don’t be blushing, you chanted in your head. 

“It’s ok, you can make it up by buying dinner tonight.” Yeonjun cheerfully said. 

“Actually, I can’t have dinner with you tonight. I have plans.” You reply as you thought about school. You had a group project due at midnight and still had a little bit to do until you were finished. Yeah, you had to admit you were a little slack on this group project and honestly you didn’t have a good enough excuse. It’s ok though, you were all getting graded individually so your group mates’ marks won’t suffer due to your poor time management. “But next time for sure.”

He gave you a strange look and just as Yeonjun was about to speak, your orders were called up. You both collected your items and started to head towards the Big Hit building. The two of you walked in silence as you munched on your beagle. You stole glances here and there at the man walking beside you.

“What is it?” Yeonjun finally asked as you reached the building and made your way up to the studio. He finally took his mask off and sighed before putting the mask into his bag. A little flustered by his question and not wanting to say it was because he looked handsome even with a mask on, you thought for a second before giving him an uneasy smile. 

“Just feel bad about being late and having you pay for my things you know.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He replies back with a smile before leading the way into the studio. You politely said hello to the producers and sound engineers before sitting on the couch. Taehyun was just wrapping up for today’s recording as you gave him a little wave.

“What are you doing tonight anyway?” Yeonjun asked as he skimmed past his lines. Not wanting him to scold you for your academic habits, you avoided his eyes as you answered. “Oh, just you know, meeting up with a friend.”

Yeonjun looked at you and seemed to be biting back a reply as he left to go into the recording booth. Taehyun said a polite hello and goodbye as he left to go off to the practice room. You sat on the couch sipping on your drink as you watched Yeonjun do some sound checks.

You couldn’t help but admire how passionate he looked when he was recording. The way he would carefully listen to the producers feedback and write little notes on his lyric sheet. The way he would smile and cheer a little when he got something right. Everything about him looked so admirable, making you realise you how much you respected him and his dedication to his dream. 

Your phone vibrated on the table and you were quick to check it as to not disturb anything. The caller ID read your groupmate’s name making you let out a silent curse before excusing yourself from the room.

“Hey what’s up?” You tried your best to answer.

“Y/N are you finished?” She sounded a little impatient through the phone, making you feel even more guilty.

“Almost. Just the final finishing touches. I’ll have to done by tonight, don’t worry.” You tried to reassure her.

“Ok, but I need it by 9 so I can check it before I send the manuscript for the presentation to the professor.”

“Yup. You bet, it’ll be sent by 9.” You replied back before you heard her sigh and hang up. You let out a sigh of relief before entering the room again. Your eyes met Yeonjun’s as he raised a brow at you as if to ask what you were up to. You gestured to you phone and just gave him a thumbs up with a smile before continuing to listen to him record again.

“Who were you on the phone with?” Yeonjun asked as he exited the recording booth. Not wanting him to find out it was your group mate as he would surely ask what it was about, you just replied with “Oh, just my friend.”

The two of you were walking along the hallway when you took a peak at the clock, reading 3:45. Shoot. You really didn’t have time to hang out with Yeonjun any longer, your presentation was begging you to finish it.

“The same friend you’re having dinner with tonight?” You stared at him as his voice sounded with something that you couldn’t pin point. He stared back at you as well as he leaned against the wall. 

“Uh, yes. Actually I have to go right now, I promised them I’d get there around 5.” You gave him a sheepish smile and was about to press the button for the elevator and wave goodbye when he spoke up.

“Are you going on a date?” The question flustered you. 

“What? What makes you say that?” You asked as you stood there trying to read his face. 

“Well, you’re all dressed up with makeup and everything. And you’re leaving so early.” He walked closer to you and suddenly you were very aware of how small you were compared to him. 

“Am I not allowed to dress nicely? I just wanted to look good today.” You simply stated feeling your heart pounding in your chest as you crossed your arms across your chest. 

“Sure sounds like you’re trying to impress someone, that could only indicate a date. You never dress this nicely just to meet up with a ‘friend’” A rush of confidence hit you as he spoke. Something about him staring at you with heat woke something in you.

“So what if I was going on a date? Anyway, look it’s not a date ok?” You challenged as you carefully watched his expression. You waited for an answer but nothing came, it was as if he was trying to find a response. “Yeonjun, I really need to go.”

“Then why is your outfit so cute and your makeup so good? You never try to dress up when you’re with me.” He finally replied, sounding a little...disappointed? His lips were slightly pouted and you didn’t know if you were seeing things but was that wistfulness in his eyes?

You looked down and played with the hem of your skirt before meeting his eyes once again. Seeing him like this made your heart ache slightly. Letting out a sigh, you mentally shook yourself. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t just let this crush fade. 

“Yeonjun, the only reason I dressed up today was because I was coming to see you. I’m not meeting up with a friend at all, I’m leaving early to finish up some school work.” He looked a little surprise by your answer. 

“Dressed up for me? But why?” You found it adorable watching him look like the confused pikachu meme. 

“Yes you. I-” Here it goes. Now or never. “I like you.” You turn around and quickly hit the elevator button, thanking the gods out there when it opened. “I need to go.” And with that you hopped in the elevator button, regretting setting in rather quickly. 

You had ruined it. You just ruined your friendship with him. Great. Wonderful. You were too deep in thought that you realised that the elevator hadn’t moved. Dammit you forgot to press the button for Ground floor. Looking up, you noticed Yeonjun’s body at the door frame of the elevator thus preventing the doors to close.

As you were about to ask him what the hell he was doing, he stepped forward to cup your face and let his lips meet yours as your eyes widen in shock before closing as you melted into the kiss. The kiss was the type to make your knees feel like jelly as it was deep and almost hungry. Just as you thought he was about to pull away, he held you closer as he slightly bit onto your bottom lip before sucking on it. Your mouth opens a little to gasp as his tongue made its way into your mouth making you stumble back a little. Your hand held onto his shoulders in order to stand up as you felt your legs wobbly a little. His kisses began to trail on your neck before they made their way to your ear. He nibbled on them a little before he stopped, his ragged breath sending shivers through out your body. 

“Good, because I like you as well.” He whispered into you ear before pulling away. Your eyes met you and you watched him smile as he kissed your lips once again, this time it felt soft and innocent. As he pulled away, a shy smile graced your face as he stared at you with such adoration. 

“You’re so cute.”

[imomomi]

Summary: Y/N isn't too sure what it is about Kozume Kenma that makes her nervous, but avoiding him doesn’t seem to be working especially since Kuroo keeps bothering her...

Word Count: 1,607

Warnings: None :)

A/N: Just a cute little story that I had drafted. Part two will be up soon! 

         Y/N had been startled when Kuroo first asked her to come to their game. The second time, she grew increasingly wary that her classmate had a crush on her. The third time, Y/N declined much to his shock and her growing annoyance. It wasn’t that Kuroo was a bad person---he was nice when he wanted to be and smart enough to occasionally catch the mistakes she missed in her chemistry homework. But it was Kuroo Tetsurou. He was captain of the volleyball club, loud and boyishly charming in a way that had girls whispering about him in the locker rooms. To put it simply, he wasn’t Y/N’s type.

           “Why not?” he pestered, poking her back with his pen in between math problems.

           “It’s volleyball,” said Y/N dully.

           “Yeah, duh,” he leaned forward, hair flopping in his face, “that’s kind of the point, Y/N.”

           “I’d rather be at home,” she admitted.

           “Doing what?”

           “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

           “Come one, it’s just one game,” said Kuroo pushing his lips out in a pout. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest in disgust.

           “You’re very nice, Kuroo-san, but I’m not interested,” said Y/N bluntly. A twinge of regret filled her. Hopefully, no one around them had heard their conversation and started a rumor. She didn’t want to deal with gossip, especially Tokyo gossip that would spread to the neighboring schools like a wildfire and reach her brother’s ears at Tokyo University.

           “Wh…what?” he sputtered, earning a look from their teacher. He winced, leaned down, and whispered, “I don’t like you.”

           “Well…is it that Yamamoto kid?” she asked in horror, remembering the shy, stuttering first year who’d yelled some gibberish at her, “Or worse Yaku? He’s too short.”

           “Say that to his face, I dare you,” Kuroo laughed, throwing his head back, “You’re the same height.”

           “Whoever it is, the answer is no.”

           “Oh, come on,” he begged.

           “No. You have this meddling look and it makes me think of a bakeneko coming for my soul.”

           “I don’t see it,” mused Kuroo, leaning forward and staring at her intently. Her brow wrinkled.

           “What?”

           “What makes you attractive? You’re like the witch of the waste before she got ugly,” he said, dodging her hand as she swiped at him.

           The following Monday, Kuroo slams a Nintendo switch on her desk. Their game had ended in a win and Y/N was glad because it meant Kuroo wouldn’t be depressed and annoying, but now he was happy and annoying.

           “Thank you?” said Y/N, turning the device over in her hands. She switched it on, the familiar logo lighting the screen.

           “It’s not for you. Just hold on to it.”

           “Isn’t this Kozume-san’s?” asked Y/N. Kuroo snorted, resting his head in the palm of his hand. His gaze sharped as she spoke his friend’s name.

           “Kozume-san? He’s younger than you.”

           “He’s mature,” Y/N murmured, “Though, Fukunaga is as well sometimes.”

           “You’ve spoken to Kenma?”

           “No. Of course not,” she scoffed, loading Animal Crossing as she spoke, “He comes by the café sometimes.”

           “And you notice him?” Kuroo’s gaze sharpened, voice coming out in sly as a snake. She found she liked this side of him the least.

           “He doesn’t shout and never loses. It’s hard not to notice.”

           “You watch him long enough to know he never loses?”

           “Is this Kozume-san’s? He’ll be upset that you took it,” she looked up, giving Kuroo a light glare and handed him the Switch, “Give it back.”

           “And you protect his stuff? No wonder.”

           “Give me five minutes of peace Kuroo. I don’t have the mental energy to handle you right now,” she said, falling silent. He attempted to pester her for a moment longer, before giving up. She wondered what it was that had made him take Kenma’s switch away. Usually when Kenma stopped by her grandfather’s internet café, he took a seat in a corner and spent all day tapping away at the keys. She hadn’t lied when she said she’d never seen him lose. Y/N was good at video games from constant exposure, but she played them the way a child practiced piano---out of boredom and familial expectation. Kenma breathed video games as if he were enjoying his last meal. Often, she worried that he’d pass out from exhaustion from not eating and would leave him snacks, but she doubted he even knew about it.

           Clearing her thoughts from head, she pulled out her notebook and slumped forward.

           “Here, neko-chan,” Y/N called out softly. She scattered two dried anchovies on the floor, looking for the familiar orange stray that was frequently caught on campus. A soft meow sound from the corner and Y/N pressed against the side of the school, careful to stay under the awnings and out of the rain as she coaxed the cat forward. A smile blossomed on her face as she took in the rounded belly of the cat. In a week or two, there would be kittens hiding somewhere on the school grounds.

           “Y/N, come here,” Kuroo shouted, holding an umbrella up. Y/N looked at the onslaught of rain and considered her options: One, she could take Kuroo’s offer and walk home with him and Kenma. Two, she could brave the weather, catch a cold, and miss the next two days of school. Three, she could simply wait at the school until her grandfather or one of her brothers were available to pick her up.

           “You’re seriously that against walking home with us,” Kuroo asked, leaning over her. His body cast a large shadow on the ground, dark hair and sharp eyes lending to the villainous atmosphere that surrounded him. Kenma offered a brief, silent nod looking as uncomfortable as she felt. The stray cat nudged her hand as if scolding her for not leaving yet. Y/N stood, pulled down the hem of her skirt, and straightened her blazer.

           “I don’t mind walking home with Kozume-san,” she said, taking cover under Kuroo’s umbrella, “You, on the other hand, are far too loud.”

           “I miss when he was quiet,” muttered Kenma’s, lips twitching at the affronted look on Kuroo’s face. His gaze disappeared from her line of view as he slumped forward, hair shielding him from view. Y/N frowned lightly, looking up to meet Kuroo’s thoughtful gaze. The soft pitter patter of rain filled the silence as they walked, but her worry grew. Was she making Kenma uncomfortable with her presence? On normal days, Y/N would sometimes spot them coming off the morning train, Kuroo animatedly talking about whatever nonsense he’d thought up while Kenma softly answered back. They’d always seemed close like brothers, teasing and irritating each other at every chance. But they both had fallen silent now, having an awkward conversation behind her with their eyes.

           “You can drop me off at the bus stop,” said Y/N. “I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

           “Oka-“

           “It’s not out of our way,” Kenma said. His voice cut across Kuroo’s and broke the silence. Cat like eyes, gold and bright and sharp, met her own briefly before looking on ahead. Y/N nodded and bowed in the same motion, offering her thanks. His shoulders hunched up even more and she was suddenly grateful that Kuroo was here and stood between them.

           Kuroo nudged her and tilted his head in Kenma’s direction. She scowled back and pulled the umbrella closer leaving one of his arms out in the rain.

           “Kenma, tell Y/N she can call you Kenma.”

           “Hmmm…oh…you can call me Kenma if you want,” his hands fiddled with the button on his umbrella, “T…there’s no need for honorifics.”

           “Oh. I hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable.”

           “You didn’t. But, Kozume-san makes you sound like Hashimoto-sensei,” said Kenma. His eyes abruptly cut to hers again, the gold cutting through her like ice. She frowned, pressing a hand to her face and then narrowed her own eyes.

           “She’s so old,” said Y/N, voice high-pitched in indignation. “I’m only a year older than you!”

           “When were you born?” asked Kenma.

           “March 1st.”

           “Only seven months than,” he said, voice steadier, “Kozume-san makes me sound like an old man.”

           “I was being polite,” said Y/N, huffing in anger.

           “That’s our youth these days,” said Kuroo, grinning widely, “Rude and always on their devices.”

           “Shut up,” both her and Kenma said at once. They turned to each other in surprise, a light blush blossomed across both of their faces. A tight itch of anxiety built in her chest, but Kenma, for the first time ever, didn’t look away and held her gaze. It seemed so small and insignificant, but Y/N felt as if a hand had tightened its hold on her chest.

           Kuroo took over the conversation, pulling tiny strings that push and pull her and Kenma in different directions. She learned that he was an only child and Kuroo’s first friend in Tokyo. Y/N found herself telling them how she had two older brothers and lived with her grandfather who worked for an animation studio. Before she realized it, they’ve stopped in front of her house. Both boys gazed at the traditional awnings and bonsai tree with curiosity. She felt as if she should say something to cement their newly sprung friendship. Y/N lingered, a slight smile pulling at her lips.

“Your island was really pretty,” she offered quietly. Kenma coughed sharply.

“You…send me your switch code…I’ll let you visit it,” he turned around and walked down the street. Y/N frowned, looking at Kuroo.

“Uhh, just text me, I’ll give you his number,” he said over his shoulder as he jogged to catch up with Kenma.

[seokmingiggles]

on cerulean tides.

Anon requested on 201219: "Would you do an idol!Kim Namjoon one shot where the reader (non-idol) is best friends with the Maknaes and believes there's no way Namjoon would ever like her so she begins to avoid him whenever she hangs out with the Maknaes at the dorms/studio/dance practice to try to get over him and Joon picks up on it and thinks he did something wrong/is sad since he thinks he stands no chance with her until the Maknaes force them to realize they return each other's feelings? Thank you in advance!"

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x female reader

Genre: angst to fluff, idol!au, non-idol!reader, happy ending.

3.04k words

Warnings: heavy feelings of inferiority and insecurity, self-doubt, an incredibly brief mention of alcohol consumption, a dragged out metaphor about the sea.

With the ocean of uncertainty plaguing you, you've been avoiding the boy your heart yearns for, not knowing just how much your distance has been impacting him too. Alternatively, Namjoon is your beacon to guide you through the stormy feelings of self-doubt that you've been struggling with lately.

A/N: Thank you for your request! I probably made this much angstier than you intended, but I promise a fluffy ending awaits you. I hope it's okay! (I promise it’s not some pirate!au with a title like this lmao)

This one is dedicated to anyone who feels doubtful of themself. I wish that one day you will be able to see what an astonishing and beautiful being you are. All of us have insecurities about ourselves—big or small—but letting those criticisms consume you is unhealthy and prevents you from living your life to the fullest. Please reach out to talk to someone you trust if these feelings become overwhelming. Things will get better. Please take care of yourself!

•• You and Jimin laughed as you ran down the hallway, each of you with a bag of food in your arms. You could hear Taehyung and Jungkook scampering behind you, the former being noisy as he chased after you, Jungkook only had slightly more grace as he moved.

Being close with the maknae line of BTS had its perks. You could visit them in the studio if they called for you, you could have movie nights at their dorm on their off days, and above all, you could goof around to lift your spirits. You had boundaries; you knew when to leave them be during the busier periods of their schedules and how you couldn't post anything about them online. You didn't mind, though. Your friendship was more than enough.

You were a high school classmate of Jungkook's a few years back, although the two of you never spoke much during those first couple of years. It was only after his group's debut where the boy found himself in need of a tutor, and the school recommended a few to him. Yours was the only name on the list that Jungkook recognized, so it was an easy decision for him to make. Once you and your classmate graduated high school, Jungkook was no longer in need of a tutor, but he wanted to maintain your friendship as he didn't have many others he was close to in your graduating class. Slowly but surely, you also became friends with Taehyung and Jimin when visiting Jungkook over the years. Now, the four of you were practically inseparable. While the boys wouldn't tell you to your face, they all admired you because you never once treated them differently despite their status as idols, especially as their public popularity increased over time.

Jimin reached the vacant studio room before you, holding the door open to let you inside before shouting back at his friends, "You two better hurry up or else (Y/N)-ah and I will eat all the food!"

"Oh, I believe it!" Taehyung cupped his mouth as he yelled back, being pulled by the younger boy at his wrist.

Soon enough, Jungkook and Taehyung made it to the room before Jimin could lock them out. This whole ordeal began when Taehyung needed to use the bathroom after you all had entered the BigHit building. Jungkook went with him, leaving you and Jimin with the lunch he'd ordered.

"All that running from you guys worked up my appetite," you declared as you removed the assortment of containers from one of the bags.

"Well, all that chasing worked up mine," Taehyung countered, teasingly sneering at you and Jimin, the latter already breaking apart his disposable chopsticks.

The four of you began to devour your meal. The three boys were in the middle of a busy working day and invited you to join them for their lunch break. It wasn't an uncommon request; you'd see the trio at least once a week, sometimes more if their schedules cooperated.

Some playful banter with full mouths and filling tummies later, you were sitting back in your chair as you watched Jungkook finish the last of the japchae when someone knocked on the studio door.

After Jungkook managed a "Come in," with his cheeks full of noodles, it was Namjoon's head that poked through the doorway.

"I just want to remind you three that you'll be needed for our meeting in fifteen minutes," the group leader said, eyeing the now-emptied remnants of the lunch you enjoyed. "Hi, (Y/N)."

"Hi, Namjoon." You matched his monotonous tone, maintaining difficult eye contact as he shut the door behind him.

"Okay, whatever is going on between you two needs to stop," Jimin sighed out, visibly frustrated. "You used to get along so well with hyung, and now it's so awkward seeing you interact."

Taehyung sat up straighter, "I agree. You two have so much in common. It's sad to see you so distant now."

Jimin and Taehyung were right. You and Namjoon had to do a lot of scheduling together back when you were Jungkook's tutor, so he was the first one you'd gotten to know in the band, other than your former classmate. The two of you shared a similar mindset: you were both compassionate, responsible, and—arguably above all else—incredibly bad at sharing your feelings.

You wished you could determine the exact moment you began to develop feelings for Namjoon. Maybe it was something about his warm smile; maybe it was his cheery laugh. Or perhaps the way he so intently listened to what the others had to say and would consider ideas other than his own. You not once ever doubted his ability as a leader. You've known the boys since their debut, and even back then, you found Namjoon fit for his role; he's only become better at his job in the passing years.

Yet, something about him made you doubt your ability to be his equal. Part of you knew it was silly to begin avoiding Namjoon in the first place, but the other part of you couldn't bear to suffocate with those annoying butterflies swarming every time your gaze met his. Even from across a room, Namjoon had a powerful effect on you. Part of you wanted his impact on you to stop; part of you missed his closeness.

"Jungkook, you're being awfully quiet," Jimin exchanged a look with Taehyung, "Do you know something that we don't?"

Your head snapped up in Jungkook's direction, silently begging for the boy to deny their assumption.

The youngest hummed and grabbed a water bottle, twisting the cap off and taking a sip. He swished the water around in his mouth.

"Don't make me squish your cheeks to spit out that water, Jeon."

Jungkook swallowed. He glanced at you for confirmation, although instead, took in your tired appearance. He brought it upon himself to make your exhaustion stop.

"(Y/N)-ie likes Namjoon."

You sighed at hearing those words aloud. You couldn't even be mad at your friend; the only way he found out about your feelings was over some drinks one night where you were rambling about how pretty you thought Namjoon looked earlier that day. In hindsight, maybe it wasn't a good idea to tell your crush's bandmate that you liked him.

Jimin shifted in his seat, "Okay, and...? Don't tell me you thought we didn't already know, (Y/N)-ie."

"Yeah, it was obvious when you'd become flustered around hyung!" Taehyung added, "But after you began avoiding him I figured something had changed."

You fiddled with the cap of your water bottle. "Does he know?"

"Namjoon? No, there's no way. He's about as clueless as you are when it comes to crushes." Jimin pondered then continued, "Maybe we could talk to him about it-"

"Absolutely not."

"But why not (Y/N)? It's painful for us to watch the two of you interact lately; it must be worse for you guys."

"I don't want him to know."

"That's not a good reason-"

"It's good enough for me. Now please, can we just forget about it? Don't you guys have a meeting to get to?" You felt bad for shutting down their request. After all, they were only trying to help you.

The boys began to stand, collecting the bags and containers scattered on the floor. They were visibly defeated, but they respected your plead.

Jimin stood by you before turning to the door, "Okay, if that's what you wish, we won't tell him. I do think you should, though, (Y/N). Maybe the results will be in your favour."

•

You felt numb as you were on the bus heading back to your apartment. You tried to escape from your thoughts about the boy you were so fond of, yet your mind defeatedly wandered its way back to him no matter how hard you tried. It pained you to see Namjoon's behaviour shift with yours as you began to avoid him throughout the past month. You didn't realize how severe it had become until your friends pointed it out to you. You thought the distance you created would help alleviate the pounding sensation in your chest and clammy palms associated with Namjoon's presence. You never thought that one day you'd prefer your racing heart to the emptiness you feel now.

He's too good for me, you kept convincing yourself until it was all that you believed.

He couldn't love someone like me.

You have struggled with self-compassion throughout your life thus far. Feelings of gratitude coming in inconsistent waves like the unpredictable ocean tides. You were stormier lately—lost in the sea of doubt and floundering to find stability on shore again.

Namjoon used to be your lifeboat. He taught you that appreciating oneself is necessary to become genuinely happy. He even wrote lyrics about the phenomenon. He made it sound so simple, so achievable. Yet, the theory is typically easier than the practice. Wind and rain continued to pelt down at you, thrashing the waves beneath your surface and making it difficult to breathe.

You wanted to change your mentality; you wanted to be more confident. But constantly comparing yourself to others is equivalent to drowning in the murky ocean, the depths sucking you further and further below until not a trace of sunlight remains.

You made it back to your apartment safely in one piece. You were mentally exhausted and drained at all of your overthinking. You felt the need to cry out of frustration.

"Remember to breathe when you're feeling like this. Come on, just slow, deep breaths."

Namjoon's voice resounded in your head from a few months back when you overheard him calming Taehyung down in a neighbouring room.

You missed hearing his voice.

It was an unmistakable desire. You missed the way he'd look at you with utmost attention and care when you'd speak with him. You missed the way he'd give his thoughtful advice. You missed his smile, his laughter; you missed him. You longed to be back in Namjoon's presence. He always knew what to do or say to help calm the storm. He was a lighthouse beckoning you back safely to shore.

You were getting tired of avoiding him.

But you were also getting tired.

Padding your way to your bed, you slipped into comfy loungewear and got beneath your covers. You momentarily stared up at the ceiling before closing your eyes.

"Come on, just slow, deep breaths."

•

Your ringing phone was what awoke you. It could have been minutes or hours later; you weren't sure. You reluctantly pushed yourself out of your blanketed fortress and made your way to the kitchen counter where you left the device. It was still light outside, but you could see the sun beginning to approach the horizon line.

"Hello?" You said, cursing in your head for the way your groggy voice sounded.

"Hi, (Y/N). It's been a while. Could we talk?"

You froze, being doused by the icy sea.

"Um..." you hesitated. You were caught off guard in a place that was supposed to be your retreat, by a person who was supposed to be your oasis.

"Deep breaths."

"Yeah, I-I guess we could talk."

"Great. Would it be okay if I came to you? I'm almost done here in the studio, maybe another thirty minutes before I can head out."

You were nodding your head before you verbalized your agreement.

"Okay. I'll see you soon, (Y/N)."

"See you, Namjoon."

You hung up first and set your phone back onto the kitchen counter, your elbows following shortly after so you could place your face in your hands.

You knew this was coming; Namjoon was a responsible young adult. There was no way he could have missed your change in behaviour around him as much as you wished for otherwise.

•

Thirty minutes went by faster than you wished. The sharp knock on your door startled you as you were washing some dishes in the kitchen. Cleaning when stressed wasn't an unusual habit of yours.

You hesitated, grabbing a tea towel to dry your hands before treading carefully to the door.

"Deep breaths."

You removed the chain and carefully opened the door. You knew Namjoon was waiting for you on the other side, yet your breath still hitched as your eyes wandered upwards to meet his.

"Come in," you forced from your lips and stepped to the side to let your guest past.

Namjoon thanked you as he slipped his shoes off and made his way to your sofa, declining your offer of a drink.

You joined him shortly after, keeping him more than an arms-length away.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?"

"Deep breaths."

"Did Jimin mention anything to you?" You could tell your voice sounded weak, but you had other pressing concerns.

"Nothing elaborate. All I was told by him and Taehyung was that I should try talking to you. They didn't say why, but I think we both know."

You searched his face for any signs of dishonesty but found none. "Nothing's wrong-"

"Please," he pushed, "I'd like to think I know you well enough over the years. Something is wrong. I should have come here sooner. You know you can trust me." He even bared a small smile after his words.

It only made your heart plummet further into the depths: a watery grave with your name written on it.

"You're just..." you sighed out, already feeling tears prickling at your eyes. "You're really... just... good. I hope you know how good of a person you are, Namjoon. I don't know how else to explain it. You're a good person. No, that's an understatement. You're... it sometimes doesn't feel like you're real, you know? You're just so giving and considerate and so aware of others' wellbeing." You failed to hold back your emotions; a tear slid down your cheek. "You're good."

And proving your point, Namjoon slid closer to you on the couch so he could take your hand in his.

"Sometimes I feel so insignificant," you continued, "like I'm nobody special or that I'm not doing anything important or worthwhile; that I'm not enough. It's like I'm stuck on the bottom of the ocean. I'm not drowning, but I'm able to see the world passing by above me."

Namjoon said nothing for a moment and just absorbed your thoughts as he mindlessly brushed his thumb across the back of your hand. "There are times in everyone's' life where we all feel that way. You can only tread water for so long before you exhaust yourself and begin to sink. I've felt that way, too—stuck, insignificant. If I'm being blunt, part of my desire to change my mindset was because of you, (Y/N). When I first met you as Jungkook's tutor, you seemed so knowledgable, responsible; you had a good head on your shoulders. You were good. Part of you reminded me of myself, yet part of me also felt intimidated by you." Namjoon stopped momentarily to smile at your astonished face as you mouthed 'intimidated?'. "Yes, intimidated. I've admired you since day one. Then slowly, I realized that those feelings became more than just a simple admiration. But I held back saying anything because I didn't feel worthy of you. I let my own self-doubt get in the way."

"I'm the one not worthy of you, 'Joon."

"Please, love, nothing about that is true," the boy's voice became so tender as he brought his free hand to the side of your face. "One day, I'll show you just how incredible you are to me," he swiped his thumb to collect a stray tear, "but right now, I think you're more in need of a tissue and a hug."

A small, breathy laugh fell from your lips as you accepted the tissue Namjoon retrieved for you. After effectively wiping away your salty tears, you gladly situated yourself in his outstretched arms, being held in a tight embrace. The two of you remained like that until your breathing gradually calmed down, then you moved so you were lying against him with your back to his chest. His nose lightly nuzzled the top of your head.

"All of us have a bit of the ocean inside of us," Namjoon continued, delicately grazing his thumb around the curved corner of your eye, "it means you have the power to control the waves to some extent. The sea can be unpredictable, but so is life. It takes practice to learn to control your waves. I know you may not believe in yourself now, but please, (Y/N), believe me when I tell you that you're enough. You're more than enough."

•

Namjoon stayed with you for the rest of the evening to make sure your spirits were lifted even the slightest bit. The distance that grew between you was from a mutual error; you came to understand your similar sides to the story as you continued to talk. The whole ordeal made you realize that you're not alone in your insecurities. Even someone you suspected to be flawless had doubts of their own.

You were situated back in your bed after Namjoon had left minutes ago. He wished you a good night and pleasant dreams, topping off his adieu with a quick peck to your cheek. You relished in the feeling of your butterflies returning, no longer letting them suffocate you, instead, embracing them in their colourful magnificence.

You recalled what Namjoon said earlier to you:

"You know, what you said about the ocean, it can be beautiful too. Yes, it's scary when you're alone and trapped at the bottom beneath the waves in the dark, but the thing about the sea is that it's continuously moving and shifting. Like our lives, tides come in highs and lows and can change from day-to-day, hour-to-hour. It's unfair to assume we can always remain floating on the surface; when that happens, you can't go anywhere yourself. You need to be partially submerged to move and make choices.

Why don't we traverse this sea together? We can help guide each other until we've found our shore again."

Namjoon was your lighthouse; you were the moon guiding his tides.

••

[lettheladylead]

avoid the unhappy ending (ch4)

ships/characters: Goldie, Webby, Dewey, Scooge/Goldie, Webby/Lena words (ch4): ~1900  summary: Goldie comes to town to see Scrooge. Instead, she somehow manages to run into literally everyone else. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108943/chapters/66282616

Chapter 4 below the cut:

That was not someone she’d anticipated speaking to anytime soon. Or, well, ever.

When Duckworth died, Goldie found out almost right away. Scrooge was already in his deep My-Niece-Is-Missing depression at the time, during which she tried to reach out every other year just to make sure he was still alive. He didn’t always pick up the phone, but that time he did, and he’d simply said, “What do you need? I don’t have the energy for games. Duckworth is dead.”

In what she considered probably not her finest moment, Goldie responded with, “You can’t stuff everyone in an immortal magic castle, Scroogey.”

After he hung up on her, they didn’t discuss it any other time. No one had mentioned his ghost hanging around. Now she almost felt bad about what she said.

Goldie stepped through the hallway and looked at the stairs. She sighed and sat on the second-to-top stair, leaning against the top with her head back. She looked up at the ceiling. This day was turning out to be very...conversational. It wasn’t what she’d planned on - usually Scrooge was much easier to find.

She closed her eyes and took a moment just for herself. She’d check downstairs for Scrooge, and then he wouldn’t be there because why would he be? That’d be too simple. He was apparently not going to make this easy for her.

A moment later, there were some small footsteps behind her that suddenly came to a stop. Goldie opened one eye to see a familiar tiny face staring down.

“Hey, Kiddo.”

“What are you doing on the stairs?” Webby asked with a tilt of her head.

“...thinking.” She closed her eyes again, hoping the kid would take the hint and go away.

Instead, Webby kneeled down and plopped herself next to the much older woman.

Goldie turned her head and opened her eyes again. “Can I help you with something?”

There was a good chunk of silence before Webby finally spoke.

“You’re a con artist and a thief.”

“True.”

“My granny says no one should ever trust you.”

“True.”

“Uncle Scrooge says you’re always looking for angles.”

“True.”

“But Louie says you’re just a softie trying to look tough.”

“Tru-wait, what?” Goldie sat up and stared at her. “I’m sure he must’ve been talking about someone else.”

“No.” Webby shook her head. “He was talking about you. He said you saved him when you didn’t have to.”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “Not wanting to watch a child die isn’t the emotional triumph he thinks it is.”

Webby looked down the hallway and then back at Goldie. “Maybe not. But it shows you care.”

“If you say so.”

“And you care about Uncle Scrooge.”

Goldie simply hummed as a response - she looked at the feathers at the tips of her fingers and played with them a bit.

Webby felt awkward for a moment and tapped her hands against her legs. Goldie could tell this line of seemingly unrelated statements was leading up to some sort of personal question, and she was not excited for it.

“...how do you know when you’re in love with someone?”

That wasn’t the question she’d anticipated. Something personal, sure, but not like that. Goldie looked back at the preteen with a raised eyebrow. “What makes you think I’ve been in love?”

Webby looked like she was about to laugh. After a pause, her smile faded to pure confusion. “Wait, are you serious?”

Goldie just frowned.

“Okay…” Webby turned away from Goldie’s eyes uncomfortably. “...have you ever had a crush on a girl?”

A single, surprised blink. “Ah...when I was younger, sure. I’m a bit too old for crushes nowadays.”

“So how did you know?”

Goldie exhaled loudly and adjusted her sitting position again, lifting her butt up to sit on the top stair with the tiny duck. “What are you really asking me, Kid? You think you’re in love with one of your friends?”

Webby looked down at her knees with a bright blush on her face. “I...yeah. Maybe.”

This wasn’t a conversation she was prepped to have. She could give advice on fighting, on pilfering, on adventuring, on gently teasing while casually avoiding real feelings getting in the way. But...there was something about this kid that struck a chord. Maybe it was her tenacity or the way she didn’t take any of Goldie’s crap the last time they’d met. Maybe Goldie just really was going soft.

“...what do you feel when you’re around her?”

Webby let out a short laugh. “Oh...I don’t know...happy?” She started playing with the ends of her hair. “My chest gets warm and I wanna support her in everything she does and I just wanna hug her all the time!”

Goldie ran her fingers through her ponytail. “Alright. Do you want to kiss her?”

“Um-!” Webby’s face turned somehow even redder. “I don’t know. I think I do.”

“I’d say that’s pretty definitive,” Goldie shrugged. “Kissing and love usually go together.”

“Usually,” Webby repeated. “But not always? Or always except for when it’s you and Uncle Scrooge?”

Goldie scoffed and adjusted her position again so she was leaning against the wall and staring directly at the talkative little girl. “You’re very nosy.”

“I just like to have my facts straight.”

“I’m sure you do.” Another eye roll. “Any chance you know where he is?”

Webby didn’t react to the change in topic. “Nope! But speaking of Uncle Scrooge…”

“As everyone is doing.”

“...I have some questions for you!” A notebook was pulled out of who-knows-where and Webby pointed to the first sentence at the top. “What brought you to Dawson? How did you and Uncle Scrooge meet? Did you really poison him? Why did you go to his claim? He’s written down the details before, but scribbled them all out or ripped up the pages.”

“Nope, nope,” Goldie stood up - her bones creaking a bit as she did. “We’re not doing this.”

“But I didn’t get to ask you before!” Webby waved her notebook around. “I have so many questions! Do you still own the saloon? I heard it’s a hotel now!!”

Goldie jumped past the girl and rushed off in another direction. If Scrooge didn’t answer these questions, it definitely wasn’t her place to answer them. Especially not questions about...that particular time. And she certainly wasn’t going to answer questions about her current life.

She saw an unfamiliar door and quickly popped it open before Webby could follow after her. Running away from a small child? Yeah, that’s just where her day was at. It wasn’t a problem. Scrooge should thank her for it, though. Spilling his secrets to his ward would’ve been a fun way to ruin his reputation. She quietly closed the door in front of her.

“Oooh! Now here’s a surprise guest, everyone!”

Shocked by the sound, Goldie turned around to find the blue triplet sitting at a talk show desk while some balloons with drawn-on faces were strapped to the chair next to him. She didn’t have any idea how to react to the scene in front of her.

“What the h…”

“Glittering Goldie O’Gilt!!” Dewey got up from his desk and pressed a sound effect button behind his back, mimicking the sound of a large audience clapping. He motioned for Goldie to walk up to him and for reasons unknown, she did exactly that.

Dewey shook her hand excitedly and led her towards the seat - tearing the balloon people off and ignoring them as they floated off to the ceiling. She sat down and didn’t say anything as he danced his way back to his own seat behind the desk.

“So, Glittering Goldie - is it alright if I call you that?”

“No -”

“What brings you to our humble studio today?”

She looked around. “What is this? A fake talk show? Is this what kids do nowadays instead of playing outside?”

Dewey laughed and looked straight at the camera, making an exaggerated shrugging motion and shaking his head slowly. “And they say old people can’t be funny!”

“Hey-!”

“So is it true you’re like a million years old?” Dewey asked, clasping his hands in front of him and leaning over the desk eagerly.

Goldie was thrown off by the speed of which topics changed and the fact that he didn’t seem to be even the least bit intimidated by her. “No.”

Dewey looked at the camera, wiggled his eyebrows, then looked back at Goldie. “So how old are you, then?”

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to ask a lady that?” Goldie crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh, they absolutely did,” Dewey said with a big smile. “But our audience wants to knooow!”

“...audience?” Goldie squinted at the cameras. “Don’t tell me people are actually watching this.”

He jumped up on the desk. “You know it! My fans are plentiful and thirsty for knowledge! So let’s Dew this surprise interview!!”

She stood up out of the chair and shoved the nearest camera so it was angling away from her. “Nope.”

“Oh, c’mon! I haven’t had a real interview in forever!” Dewey stomped his foot on the desk. “And you’re so mysterious!”

“It’ll only stay that way if I stay off camera.” She put a hand on her hip and glared at him. “I’m not like Scrooge. I don’t feel the need to brag about how long I’ve been around.”

“But weren’t you, like, a showgirl or something? Back in prospector times?” Dewey flung his hands around in the air, hoping one of the cameras was still on them.

“What?”

“Y’know...big stage! Bright lights! Skimpy sparkly outfits!” He posed for dramatic effect. “That’s what Uncle Scrooge said, anyway.”

Goldie tapped one foot repeatedly as she considered how to respond without sounding too angry. “He is an aggravating man. I was the proprietor of the most successful saloon Dawson has ever seen!”

Dewey smiled brightly, feeling a little bit like Louie in that moment. He was sure Scrooge could handle being thrown under the bus. “Oh? So you didn’t dance?”

“Of course I danced,” she said while pointing an angry finger in his chest. “I did everything! I danced, I sang, I bartended, I did whatever needed to get done. Scrooge loves to act like all I did was swing my hips and drug handsy sourdoughs when he - !!! ”

She froze at the embarrassing realization that this kid had gotten her to say a lot more than she’d planned to.

“...when he what?” Dewey asked, genuinely interested and also hoping his viewership would go up thanks to the unbridled tension.

“When he...nothing.” Goldie threw her hands up in the air. “Where is he, anyway? I’ve run into everyone else in this stupid house, but have yet to see the actual reason I’m here.”

Dewey shrugged and turned around, attempting a cartwheel from the desk back to his chair. He fell with a loud clatter and held a hand up to stop Goldie from helping him as he climbed back to a seated position (she wasn’t going to help him anyway, but the gesture added to the drama of the scene). He smiled at his camera again before turning to face the blonde. “Came here to see Uncle Scrooge, eh? You guys have a smooch session planned?” He laughed and finger gunned at the camera. “That is so gross!”

“Nothing’s planned,” she answered with a smirk. “But who knows where the night will go?”

“Oh, wait, what? EW!” Dewey scowled and ran his hands down his face. “That was supposed to be a joke and you just RUINED it!! Ewww, I don’t know where he is!! Just leave! Ewwwwww!!! Nooo! What?!”

She chuckled and headed out the door she came in through, happy to see that Webby hadn’t followed. Frustrating as Scrooge’s little disappearing act was, mentally torturing a child with the reminder that his ancient Uncle had a love life was always fun.

[probably-writing-x]

Knocked off guard.

Arón Piper x Reader

Request by @isthatmaryanna : the other one is with aron where he is like super stressed on the filming of season 4 and he ends up bumping the female reader on the set, she apologizes and he got very mad and stuff like that just because he is stressed, and then he finds out she’s new to the cast and is chris new love interest and he starts to get a crush of her and gets jealous when she’s filming scenes with christian till one day he kisses her when they are recording (Wrote this with Samuel instead of Christian so that it matches season 4🤍)

Gif is not my own

Requests are closed🤍

You’d never known nerves like this until today, they’d been basically eating away at you since you’d first woken up and they hadn’t ceased yet. You were terrified of the impression you’d make on your first proper day of filming for Élite and even more terrified of all of the things that could go wrong. You’d made sure to wake up early enough and try to get onto set within enough time but already found yourself rushing to catch up with the hectic schedule.

“Shit,” You mutter to yourself as you try to find your way back to where they’d told you to meet for your first call to makeup and hair.

You’re so busy trying to make sense of the timetable they’d given you that you don’t notice anybody else around you. Only stopping when you knock into one of them abruptly.

“Fuck!” They exclaim as the drink in their hand spills all down their outfit.

You recognised the clothes instantly as the Las Encinas uniform and realise painfully that you’d just made a first impression on one of your cast mates by knocking into them.

“I’m so so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going-“

“Clearly!” The boy scoffs, trying to pat down the wet patch now covering the front of his crisp white shirt.

“I’m so sorry, I’m-“ You stop as you glance up and recognise him as Arón, who played Ander in the show.

“I’m going to be late,” He rolls his eyes, “Just please try and keep your eyes ahead of you next time.”

With that, he takes off in the opposite direction as you try to regain composure and continue in the direction you’d been previously heading towards.

You reach hair and makeup and it relaxes you when the team are genuinely nice to you for the whole time. They ask you about your new role as Samuels love interest and you chat to them about everything they felt you should know about working on the show.

“No I don’t think we need to-“ A new voice speaks as the door opens and two guys walk in to have their hair and makeup done, “Hey! I don’t think we’ve met before.”

You stand up and recognise the boy as Omar, who played his same name character on the show, “Yeah, no, I don’t think we have. I’m (Y/n), I’m playing Savannah.”

“Yes! I completely forgot you were starting today!” Omar exclaims, “Well, I’m Omar, and this is Arón.”

You glance to the boy that had entered with him and notice him instantly as the boy you’d knocked into earlier. His eyes fall to his feet to avoid eye contact as he instead turns to sit down in one of the chairs to get his hair done.

“Dont worry about him,” Omar rolls his eyes, squeezing the boy’s shoulder, “Someone’s being a little grumpy today. Anyway, tell me about yourself. Have you done much acting before?”

Just like that, the impression you’d made on the cast so far seems to clearly improve. You chat to Omar and get up to the stage where it feels as though you’ve known each other for a lot longer than a matter of minutes.

“When are your first scenes?” Omar asks you, “I’ll walk you down to set if you like.”

“I think I have to be there in ten minutes, that would be great thank you!”

He agrees and the two of you head out to start walking towards where you’d first be filming for the day.

- - - - - -

You’re introduced to Itzan who was going to be your main love interest in the show. It’s a relief when he’s genuinely lovely to you and makes it easy to feel natural around him.

“I wouldn’t worry, this place is full of second chances,” Itzan shakes his head as he speaks Samuels line, “All of us here, we’re on at least our fifth chance.”

“Maybe I won’t do so bad then,” You smile, “Thank you, by the way.”

He readjusts his grip on his bag strap and nods bashfully to you, “It was nice to meet you, (Y/n).”

The director yells cut and somehow you find yourself finishing your first full scene of the day. It had gone a lot more smoothly than you’d expected. Especially having started the day by spilling hot coffee over one of your cast mates.

“Omar and Miguel to set for next scene,” One of the crew calls, you think they introduced themselves earlier but it was already becoming overwhelming to remember all of these new people.

You take your seat on one of the black canvas chairs and prepare to watch the scene unfold in which Guzmán and Omar share a heart to heart about Nadia, where Guzmán confesses everything he regrets about what happened between them and what he would’ve done if he’d have had another chance with her before she left. You’re soon joined by someone beside you in the next seat and glance over to recognise Arón on your right hand side.

“So, you’re the new cast member,” He comments, twisting open his water bottle, “You didn’t introduce yourself earlier.”

“I didn’t really have the chance,” You return, shifting a little in the chair beneath you.

He scoffs, “I was too busy being late and covered in coffee.”

“I did apologise,” You defend, still slightly nervous despite your hope of appearing somewhat confident.

“And I was stressed.”

The conversation falls flat and you let the silence remain as you watch the scene unfold.

- - - - - -

Over the next couple of days, you’re starting to get settled into the motions of things. You’re starting to remember everyone’s names and the crew have been complimenting you on some of your scenes. Itzan was a good screen partner to have, always making you laugh and giving you tips whenever he felt like you were uncertain.

You’re walking through the different sets when you stumble upon Arón in one of the rooms. Nobody was filming at the moment so you found yourself slightly bemused as you watch him flop face down onto the bed beneath him that was normally used as a bedroom in the show.

“You know the cameras aren’t rolling?” You comment, unsure as to why you bother speaking anyway, “Or did you just need to practise that scene?”

He turns his head and looks in your direction. The two of you had spoken very minimally over the past days as he’d clearly continued that stressed attitude ever since you first met. You’d gotten to the point where you simply treated it as him being completely rude. Even if you didn’t want to accept that.

“I just needed some peace,” He mumbles, shuffling on the duvet of the bed as his arms fall at either of his sides.

“Sorry, I’ll leave you,” You comment bashfully, going to walk away.

“How have you been finding it so far?”

It surprises you. Of course it does. Up until now you’d assumed that he simply just didn’t like you. Perhaps not.

“It’s been good, everyone’s been really friendly,” You smile, “And I think my scenes have been going well.”

“Yeah, they won’t stop telling us how great you are,” He scoffs, “Seems like you’ve made a good first impression.”

“Well, on most people.”

He’s silent this time.

“I should go,” You say, not wanting to say anything more that might ruin the nicest moment you’ve shared with him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so rude to you. I’ve just been a little stressed,” Arón admits, “I’m not really sure how to approach my storylines this season and I guess I’m just letting it get to me too much.”

“What do you mean?” You walk into the room and take a seat on the bed beside him as he shifts to sit up.

“I’ve always had such intense storylines, theres always something bad going on. But, this time, Anders actually happy - him and Omar are doing well for the first time in forever. I’m not really used to it,” He shakes his head, “Sorry, you don’t need to hear my acting problems.”

“Well, I guess I’m not the best person to give advice,” You start cautiously yet again, “But I would say that you should use exactly that. Anders not going to be used to it either, he’s never had that time where he’s simply been happy so he’d probably feel exactly the way that you do about having to act that story. Use that.”

He stays silent and you’re certain you’ve said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s probably useless bu-“

“No, no, that makes sense,” He interjects, “Thank you.”

“Well, I should go, I asked Itzan if he’d run lines with me,” You explain, “See you later.”

“Yeah, bye (Y/n).”

- - - - - -

The next day, you’re filming your first kiss with Samuel. It sounded silly but you’d never been so nervous to film a scene - it would be the first time where you had to show that sort of affection on camera and it felt intimidating to say the least.

You’d been nervous all morning, for something so annoyingly simple.

You’re hurrying down towards your trailer when you knock into someone on the way.

“Fuck!” You exclaim as your water pours down you.

As irony would have it, it’s Arón stood in front of you.

“Looks like karma circled back round,” He smirks at the sight.

“Not now Arón,” You mutter, dashing off before he can say anything more.

It was harsh, you knew it was deep down. But you were so caught up in your own stress that you couldn’t really think of anything beyond that. You carried on towards your trailer and prayed they’d left you a spare uniform to change into if need be.

It’s ten minutes later when there’s a knock at your door and Arón is stood on the other side.

“Hey! Sorry about that, I should’ve been looking where I was going,” He comments, you’re too pressured to notice how he seemed slightly nervous.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” You rush to say as you search for the right script amongst your stuff.

“Are you okay?” He frowns, “You seem a little-“

“Stressed?” You finish for him as you turn around, his appearance relaxing you a little, “I’m sorry, I’ve just got my first kiss scene with Itzan today and I’m really nervous about it.”

He laughs gently, “Why? Do you like him or something?”

“What?” You scoff, “Of course I don’t. I just don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Okay...” Arón starts, “Well, wouldnt your character be nervous too? Maybe you should take your own advice and use that.”

You smirk at his attempts at helping, “Well, this is a real role reversal!”

He steps inside from where he’d been waiting in the doorway and smirks, “Or... you could just practise.”

“Practise?” You cock a brow, “What? Ask Itzan to kiss me before the cameras roll?”

Without any further introduction, Arón takes a stride forward until he’s close enough for you to understand his real intention. He leans in only ninety percent of the way, waiting for your approval to seal the last ten percent. When you do, his eyes flutter shut and his lips curl into a smile against yours.

“Was that your plan all along?” You mumble against his lips as he pulls away.

“We all need ways of coping with stress,” He smirks a little, “Is that so bad?”

You laugh and try to fight against the bold blush on your cheeks.

“And you have nothing to worry about. You’re a much better kisser than Omar.”

“Well, I was coming to get (Y/n) to set but looks like I’ve seen and heard much more than I needed to,” Omar raises his brows from where he stood at your door, “I’ll tell them you’ll be a little late. Close your fucking door next time!” He laughs and walks off.

“Any less stressed?” Arón cocks a brow at you.

“Maybe let’s try that again.”

[burgerpocalypse]

Back 4 Blood Beta

It's not good. I don't recommend buying or playing this game. Avoid it. If you like it, you're actually wrong.

I'll be directly comparing Back 4 Blood to Left 4 Dead because it's the same development team (supposedly). I'm also in an especially unforgiving mood, so this will be an outwardly hostile discussion of this terrible product. If you think I'm just being overly negative and want the game to fail because I'm an asshole, well, yeah, I am, but this shoddy product deserves considerable ire and I won't be convinced otherwise.

Some publications and individuals are calling it good, a worthy successor to L4D. They're wrong. L4D was a charming, polished, streamlined game. B4B is passionless, janky, and complicated. It makes mistakes that L4D solved or cleverly avoided, and introduces critical issues that ruin the experience.

Game Feel

Shooting feels weak and unresponsive, slows your movement speed, and requires aim-down-sights to have any accuracy.

Basic movement is slow and plodding. Sprinting drains stamina almost instantly, and is barely faster

Melee attacks rapidly drains stamina and has dubious reach; shoving enemies provides almost no benefit unless you have a specific perk card.

Zombies (or Ridden, a terrible, thoughtless name for zombies) shumble at you like they're competing for the Jank Olympics. One zombie can drain your health bar in seconds through sheer jankitude.

Players will regularly be yeeted, and it will seem like you just experienced an unintended bug or glitch rather than a deliberate force.

You're constantly taking damage from random, unidentifiable sources.

In summary, the game feel of this particular game is woeful.

Characters and Monsters

I hate the player characters. Well, that's a lie. HG, the prepper guy, or whatever his name is, is the only one I don't hate. He doesn't say cringeworthy lines, and he has a definable personality beyond broad emotional traits or bog-standard tropes. Player animations are also jank

The Ridden, which I will reiterate are named terribly, are indistinguishable from each other, players, and the environment. The common zombies are of the same color and height as players, so you're gonna probably be shooting teammates a lot, especially when everyone's covered in blood effects. Special zombies are awfully designed, to the point that I have to complain about them for the rest of this section. They:

are unpredictable, in a bad way

have entirely too much health with easily missed weak points

do far too much damage from unreasonable distances

move faster than the player's default speed, and can charge for extended distances

often appear in multiples and crowd chokepoints

The Hocker operates like the Smoker from L4D, but can lock down multiple players at once, chunk your health from great distances, and repeatedly jump from vantage point to vantage point at random. Its name is also stupid.

The Snitcher calls more zombies if you shoot it, which isn't obvious at all until you end up shooting it and call more zombies. It's also a key mistake that the developers of L4D avoided through rigorous playtesting, which allowed them to see that a similarly designed enemy was completely unfair, resulting in it being cut from the final release. Its name is also stupid.

The big fat guy can douse you in health-draining bile from 50 meters away, is difficult to kill, and has a variant that charge you and explode. This like they took the Boomer and made it worse in uniquely awful ways, just to see if they could. I don't remember the name, but its probably stupid.

The big arm guy can thwack you for 50% of your health bar, pin you in place, is also difficult to kill, and has a variant that is even more difficult to kill. I don't remember his name either, bu its definitely stupid.

The final one I can remember is the one that sits in a flesh pod and ambushes a player that gets too close, pinning them exactly like the Hunter would. The flesh pod blends into the environment in an especially egregious way, and the enemy itself looks stupid. Its names is also probably stupid.

Difficulty

I've cut my teeth on L4D and other coop shooters. I've beaten all the official campaigns on Expert. This game is stupid hard and unforgiving to such a degree that I fully believe that the developers do not understand at all what made L4D fun.

As players lose health, they also accrue trauma, which reduces maximum HP, potentially down to 40 HP. This cannot be recovered, even after respawning at a safe room or midround, unless you find a special medicine locker, which costs copper to use.

Levels are far too long, and there is never, ever any room to breathe. Players are constantly assaulted by zombies from all angles with no sense of rhythm or dramatic tension.

Levels also have no flow. Players will feel as though they are randomly wandering with no sense that they are being led in a particular direction. In L4D, the player characters would constantly be making observations about the environment (i.e. "Up that ladder!" or "We can use X to get across"). While L4D used tooltips to point out important objects, B4B relies entirely upon them.

Players have an elaborate inventory and currency system that is confusing and unreliable. Instead of providing healing and ammo at the start of each level, players have to buy it with copper. Like, literal in-game microtransactions. Each player has a unique wallet, though any copper picked up is given to all players equally. The copper system is an unnecessary addition that serves to slow down the start of a round.

Players can hold one offensive, healing, and support item. Medkits are not given a specific item slot, but instead compete with bandages and pills for inventory space. Guns and melee weapons also have tiers and ranks that are ill-defined. I have an extensive list of gripes I could go on about with this system, but I'll list some key issues:

There are too many items of each type, and they are too plentiful in the environment to be worth spending copper on

Ammo is broken into 4 types, which can leave you with lots of ammo for a weapon type you aren't using and no ammo for the gun you're actually using

Weapon attachments and ammo upgrades do nothing but provide confusion and force you to stop and stare at a stat screen to understand what it is you're adding to your gun. You also can't transfer them between guns, so you'll eventually have to swap a lower-tier gun with great attachments for a higher-tier gun with no attachments

Some offensive items do not behave in the way you expect them to, or provide so little value that they aren't worth using

Bandages and medkits operate identically, offering no interesting decision-making opportunities

The efficacy of healing items in general is needlessly reduced by players being able to heal by killing enemies, as well as trauma reducing max HP to the point that they don't provide any value

The Legacy of Left 4 Dead

Left 4 Dead provided a tightly packaged experience that nearly anyone could pick up on, and has a satisfying core loop that kept me coming back for years in spite of its many obvious glaring flaws. It was not bogged down by unnecessary progression systems or overly complex mechanics.

Since Valve allowed the series to shrivel and die, there has been no refinement of the mechanics that give L4D its magic, only inferior imitations that do not understand why things were they way they were.

Warhammer: Vermintide fails by being too complex, with vast differences between player characters, and an awful gear system that locks players out of higher difficulties with an arbitrary power system and random lootboxes

PAYDAY has zero polish, an unfathomably dull progression system, uninspired characters, awful artificial difficulty, and generally wastes the player's time with crushing amounts of busy work and waiting around

Back 4 Blood could have been great, but it completely misses the point. I'm going to try and play more of it while the beta is open, since I'm a miserable masochist, but also because some small part of me still wants to like it.

I'm sorry that this was so long and uncoordinated. I also apologize if you do enjoy the game. I just hope that I was able to provide a unique perspective of some small value to someone.

Thanks for reading. Sorry there's no interesting art to look at. I only put that comically small cover image there because it made me feel slightly better.

[camseanron]

𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: "fuck this, i need a drink." he leaves the circle. he looks at nobody. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: sean had gotten up and was about to go after craig, but when ellie did, he turned off and went in the other direction instead. sean's pissed at a lot of things, and overall he's really fucking drunk. all he can think is one foot in front of the other but he hears ellie's voice and it sounds like he might be imagining it and if he's not, then he's definitely not doing this right now. so he keeps walking, through a door and round a corner and when he hears paige's voice, he turns to face her whilst taking a couple steps back and pulling cigarettes out of his pocket, pulling one from the pack. "i'm not okay, really, but i'll find you later. i just -" he held his cigarette up, turning again to make his way outside. the cool of the air is refreshing and it sobers him up just enough to sit on the ledge of a fountain and light his cigarette without any risk of  falling in and drowning . when he hears a door on the other side of the courtyard-type-area open up he dreads it's someone coming after him, but when it's craig and he's going in the opposite direction towards the cars, he's relieved and concerned and angry and everything in between.  𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: craig doesn’t witness sean move to get up and go after him, doesn’t see ellie start to do the same, nor does he witness her going after and then getting blatantly ignored by sean. by then he’s already moving through the house pushing through people at a pace that makes him damn near impossible to keep up with, making his way back to the place where in his out of his mind inebriated state, he last remembers having the keys to his shitty car. he’s got a bottle in one hand while he’s searching around in the trampoline room, and once he finds them it turns into him making a beeline for the nearest door to lead him out of the hollingsworth house. he finds himself crossing the driveway where there’s tons of cars parked, drinking from the mouth of the bottle as he walks. when he gets close enough to the drivers side door of his own vehicle he yeets the bottle he’s holding, watching the glass shatter and the remainder of the booze soak into the ground. he thinks about what a good time he’d been having, how weird he feels now. maybe it’s the come down, maybe it’s the confusing emotions that came from kissing an ex, or being insulted by a best friend’s replacement for him, or just... sitting in that circle with all of those people. either way, craig is ready to go. he fumbles with his keys, dropping them, having to bend down to pick them up, and when he’s in that position he kinda feels like he might puke. he doesn’t, thankfully. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: sean's annoyed. and angry. on behalf of the past few months of his life, and for everything that happened in the past five minutes. everything he had to witness sat in that circle. it was shitty, and he feels bad for the fact paige came after him and he asked her to go like that. he was just pissed. and he'd been avoiding both ellie and craig for months now to avoid an argument, to avoid a fight, and then one nearly appeared right in front of him. he never asked, or gave permission, for landon to be pissed on his behalf. and it also wasn't okay for craig to have been such a dick towards landon for no reason. but that doesn't mean he suddenly gives zero fucks about craig whatsoever, and when he sees the guy walking towards his car - he knows it's a bad idea. he gets up, throws his barely-burned cigarette into the fountain and pretty much runs over to where craig's bending to get his keys. he almost falls over when bending down, but he steadies himself and reaches out to grab them before craig manages to, managing a "you're not driving" and a half-hiccup before stepping back a few paces, putting some of the distance back between them that had been present since mid december.  𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: “dude.” craig complains through half slurred words, “gimback my keys, i’m goin’ home.” he steps forward at the same pace he creates distance, and holds out his hand for them like sean is just going to willingly give them back over. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: "fuck off," sean says, not with nearly any venom but just distaste at the fact that craig would even think that he'd just hand the keys back over like that. he doesn't like the way that craig is coming forward at the same pace he's going backwards, and it's only when he nearly knocks over an array of flowerpots that he stops. "order an uber." 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: "m'not paying for a fuckin uber! i can drive. gimback my keys!"craig he does his best to try and snatch them right out of sean's hand, not even realizing he's backing him into flowerpots until one teeters and almost topples over. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: "well it's a long walk, then." sean sounds the most sensible that he has done all night, and he's not sure what brings that out of him. especially where his stupid ex best friend trying to drive whilst drunk pulled him away from the calming cigarette he'd planned to have, which floats in the fountain as they have this stupid argument. he ducks under craig's arm, too drunk to have any sense of balance and hitting his head on his forearm on the way under. but he makes it, and this time he's backing towards the direction they'd just came, definitely not in a straight line. "stop being a baby." 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: craig accidentally smacks sean in the forehead with his arm, "i'm not being a baby! you're bein an asshole!" he lunges for the keys again, grabbing sean by the wrist, trying to pry them out of his hand. he is taller than sean by a notable amount (he thinks anyway bc he's a turd), but sean is definitely stronger, so they're a pretty even match. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: sean's fist is clenched around the keys, not willing to give them up for no bitch. the audacity of craig to call him the asshole? after sean having to maintain hurt for multiple months and still being there to make sure craig didn't drive whilst this fucked up? ridiculous. he grabs the wrist of criag's hand that's holding sean, moving around swiftly so that his back was to craig's front and pulling his arm down. he just figured craig wouldn't be able to reach over his shoulder and down that far, planning to put space between them again when he's free. "yeah, well, that's me," he concludes, taking ownership of the title. "go catch a bus." 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: craig doesn't hesitate when sean turns around to get away from him, jumping and climbing up onto his back the second he presses it to his front like a damn monkey as he reaches over his shoulder, still trying to fight the keys out of his hand. "dude! c'mon i'm serious, i wanna go h-oh shit!" obviously they topple over. i said craig was toller. he's also heavier, and sean's drunk, so i mean.  𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: sean can barely keep himself upright and has absolutely no chance with craig suddenly on top of him. he hadn't anticipated it, and suddenly he's holding the keys underneath his body. which granted - it feels safer there, but he also does not want craig on top of him. he uses his elbows as a weapon, jutting one backwards in effort to get this pain in the ass off of his ass. "you can go home, but you can't -" he pauses here to try and shake craig off. "-can't ride me home so get off my back!" 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: craig is now yeah literally sitting on sean’s ass as he tries to reach underneath his body where he knows he is shielding the keys from his reach, “is that a challenge?” he asks sean, a line that comes to him way too quickly, sneaking a hand underneath him finally but not getting a grip on the keys as desired. instead he accidentally pinches a nipple in the struggle, “shi- sorry..- dude, c’mon!” 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: sean's not sure where the line is, but he's definitely sure they've way surpassed it when he gets nipple injury from this stupidity. "this isn't fucking funny," he warns through gritted teeth. and everything's spinning so slightly and he feels like he's gonna throw up with craig sitting on him like he's a fucking beanbag but somehow he manages to put both hands on the ground below him and push himself up, hoping to knock craig off but unsure if it'll instead result in craig sitting on sean's back like a child playing horsey. 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: “who’s laughing?” craig demands, “fuck!” but suddenly he’s being thrown back and he has to hold on or risk being yeeted, so that’s exactly what he does, just grips onto sean’s shoulders and doesn’t let go, then winds one arm around his thick ass neck, but doesn’t actually apply any pressure, it’s the loosest not chokehold ever. “give. me. the. keys!” 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐧: "it's not gonna happen,"he pushes up onto his knees, trying to get him off. "i'll drop it round yours tomorrow," he offers, not for one second believing that craig deserved this level of kindness but somehow happy to play the role whilst it was here and still easy to slip into. "fucking- just go back in the party," he ordered, just wanting to have his cigarette at this point. and if sean discovered that they were crushed, craig might wanna be long gone for his own safety. 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠: months of rising tension fueled by going so long without speaking has led up to this moment- this ridiculous moment, with craig on sean's back in the middle of the hollingsworth's insanely long driveway, not that far from a smashed bottle of liquor on the ground beside them, screaming at each other because he won't give craig his keys (rightfully, he shouldn't have them). "yeah, yeah okay, alright, okay- 'cept you haven't been to my house in months!" and with that he finally climbs off of him, or rather shoves off of him, coming to his feet. "yknow joey asks me about you every fucking week, at least- sometimes multiple times a fucking week and i have to tell him, 'no joey, i know joey, we all miss sean joey, sean hates my rotten fucking guts joey, sean's never coming over again!'" he is definitely way too fucked up to be having any conversation with sean...- but he definitely shouldn't be steering it in this direction. his eyes are getting glassy, threatening to flood when he speaks, and the words start sounding thicker in his throat. he turns away from him, blinking it all back. "fuck this, i'm just gonna walk." he definitely can't walk from this rich ass neighborhood and expect to get to his house in the burbs, but in that moment, he doesn't care. he just starts walking. 

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 11

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

Synopsis: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

A/N: just a short filler chap.

Like Peanut Butter and Jelly

"So you're a mobster now?" Quentin interrogated like a cop. A very judgemental and somewhat betrayed cop.

You look up from your book. "No, where did you get something stupid like that from?"

"You just said you're friends with that jerk!" He spat for the whole library to hear.

"Would you stop shouting we're in a library," you hissed.

"He's a fucking criminal," Quentin jeered.

"Listen he isn't so bad," you explained. You weren't defending him. You were just being honest. "He's kinda nice. He beat the crap out of this guy for me."

"Now you're making him kill for you?" He asked incredulously,  "God, what's wrong with you?"

You rolled your eyes in aggravation. "I'm not doing anything like that!" You snapped.  "He just so happened to be at work and helped me."

"Uh-huh, yeah," the brunette scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping in his chair. "Ever thought he might've put that guy there to do that to you?"

"What are you talking about?" you squinted at him, leaning towards him and against the table, slightly peeved by his attitude.

"What if it was all planned?" Quentin suggested. "What if he did it so he could make you like him?"

You shook your head in denial. "He wouldn't do something like that. He's not that kinda guy." Okay, why am I sticking up for this guy?

"Oh and you know a lot about him for some reason," he taunted whilst shaking his hands back and forth.

You grumbled audibly, slamming your book shut. "If you're gonna be an asshole Quentin, I'll just leave."

His hands drop and so do his shoulders. The curve of his lips runs crooked and you can tell he feels sorry. It wasn't so hard to read him. He knew you inside and out, and you knew him outside and in.

"Sorry, I'm not trying to be," he sighed regretfully. "I'm just worried about you. This guy's bad news, Y/N," he warned.

"He's in the damn mob. Hell, he is the mob. He runs the entire New York crime syndicate for crying out loud!" He shakes his arms animatedly. "Extortion, racketeering, drugs, all the worst things you could possibly imagine probably has something to do with him," he drops his arms and you could see he's doesn't like any of this. "I just don't want you to get stuck in that kinda life."

You blush a tiny bit and sit back in your seat. You twirled a piece of hair around your finger, trying to avoid his eyes by looking at your book. "But he's never really talked to me about the mob stuff. Sometimes I think he doesn't even remember he's in the mob."

"That could be for now. You don't know the future. What if he does a total 180 when he's got you in real deep?" He asked.

"It's not like that." You replied. "We're just friends."

"Just friends?"

"Just friends," you stated firmly. "Besides weren't you the one who told me to make friends? To get out of my comfort zone?"

"Yeah, but I didn't tell you to get all smoochy-smoochy with a criminal," he counters.

"It was nothing like that!" you defended yourself. "You're such a jerk!" You crossed your arms and looked away with a pout.

He chuckled, finding your reaction really cute. "You sure there's nothing I can do to change your mind?" He asked one last time.

"No, there isn't," you shake your head, defiantly.

"You crushing on this guy or something?" He dropped.

A burning hue of red darkens your cheeks and your face tells more than words could ever say.

"Oh my god, you are!" He groaned loudly, almost teasingly, slightly obnoxious. He slapped his forehead with his hand and wove his fingers into his hair. He shook his head in disappointment. "Where did I go wrong?"

"S-shut up!" You stammered.  

"She's in love with a mobster," he repeated to himself as if he didn't believe it the first time.

"Shut your face before I do it for you." You leaned over the table, pushing it slightly towards him in an attempt to intimidate him.

He points at you while laughing. "Look at you!" He roared, loud enough to earn them a few glares from everyone else. "You're blushing like crazy!"

"N-no I'm not!" You refuted, cheeks burning brighter than ever. Why did you even tell him in the first place? Oh right, he's your best friend. Your very stupid friend who laughed at the dumbest things. You kicked him from underneath the table. He winces in pain but doesn't dare stop laughing.

"Ow, you tryna kill me, mob woman?" He asked between fits of laughter.

"I hate you."

"Mrs. Y/N Rogers," he hums while thinking, "has a nice ring to it."

A vein in your forehead snaps and the next thing Quentin knows, he's kissing a really heavy textbook, and wondering what his post-mortem was going to look like.

Quentin Beck. Male. 22. A whole idiot.

Cause of death: Bludgeoned to death with a Campbell Biology textbook. (She thick as fuck).

"So I take it things went well?" Bucky asked with a smirk, sitting across Steve in his office.

"Better than well." Steve beamed. "Amazing. Fantastic. Superb. Had the best damn time of life," he exclaimed.

Sam rolled his eyes. "All she did was kiss you on the cheek," he deadpanned.

"It's a step in the right direction," he stated positively. No bad vibes in his neighborhood. "This is monumental. We're really going somewhere. I could see it in her eyes. They were sparkling. I mean they always do but like more than usual."

"Y'think she even wants anything to do with the mob?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, but I sure as hell won't stop now," he countered.

The days following his lovely talk with you by the bus stop only consisted of daydreams and giggles, scene by scene replays of his favorite parts. The way your eyes shined under a starless sky. The feel of your lips on his skin. The feel of your lips on his skin.

Though it was short and quick, you kissed him. That had to mean something right? Something really good? There's a lot he still needs to know about you. But from what he did know, he knew you wouldn't just kiss any guy. You're a tough shell to crack and it might take time for him to chisel through the stony layers surrounding your heart, but he was getting somewhere.

Steve wasn't complaining. He was excited and determined. If this is what it felt like with just a meager kiss, then how would it feel to hold your hand? To share those cozy moments you said you liked so much? To be the only one you'd share your warmest smiles and most passionate kisses with?

The thought of that alone had Steve riled up like a shaken soda can. Fizzling inside and ready to burst the minute someone popped him open. God, if only you knew what you did to him.

"She's a bit of a firecracker. I think she'd make a nice addition to the family." Sam smirked, knowing full well he was striking a chord in the man's heart.

Steve lets out a breathy chuckle. Shaking his head lightly, he thinks about it just for a second. "Yeah, she's great."

"Now to more serious matters," Bucky interjected, reminding them why they were in the first place. He pushes a file in front of him. Steve opens it to find a picture of a man along with some papers. "Guy by the name of Rumlow wants to talk to you."

Steve raised a brow while looking through. "Who's he?"

"They call him Bullseye. He never misses a shot. He's also a bigtime narcotics man," Sam replied, "Gotta big field all the way in Morocco."

"Says he wants to expand the business," Bucky continued. "He's working with the Lucchese family, Helped him buy a warehouse and fronts to get set up."

"We've already got guys like him," Steve dropped the folder back onto the desk.

"Yeah, but this guy's different." Bucky pointed out. "This stuff that he's got is top of the market. And if we don't get in on this action it's gonna be a major loss." He stated. "Maybe not now or tomorrow but in the next ten years. I mean who knows?"

Steve frowns slightly while scratching the side of his neck. "I don't know. I don't trust him," he said doubtfully."Sam?"

Sam shrugs. "It's all on you big man."

Steve huffs. "Fine, I wanna meeting with this guy," he gets up and pulls his jacket off his chair. "Sometime tomorrow. And before that, I want every piece of information you can get on him on my desk in the morning. Send Clint and Scott."

Steve put his coat on and slipped his phone in his pocket.

Bucky raised a brow. "Where ya going?"

"Out," he replied curtly, heading for the door. He opens the door and they already know where he's going. Steve pops his head back in. "Oh and tell 'em to take the kid with 'em. I don't pay him to sit around all day," he reminded them. "Teach the kid some ropes and make sure he doesn't get shot in the head for saying something stupid, alright?"

"He's a pain in the ass," Bucky deadpanned.

"Never said he wasn't," Steve retorted. "But I don't need his auntie on my bad side. So do me a favor and deal with it," he stated firmly.

"Easy for you to say," Sam jabbed. "You're not the one who's stuck listening to him yapping about Star Wars or some crap. Kid's a nerd," he grumbles.

Steve chuckles while leaving. "Leave him alone. He's a good kid," he contended. "Anyways, I'm off."

"Why are you here?" You deadpanned.

"You don't seem very happy to see me," Steve said, sitting on one of the barstools lining the granite counter with a mischievous grin splayed on his face.

"That's because I'm not," you said flatly, wiping down the counter.

"Ouch, that hurt me right here," he winced while clutching his heart.

"That was my intention," you remarked, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your face.

Steve notices it. He obviously did. Nothing ever went past those pretty blue eyes. He leans over the counter with his arms crossed on top.

"Doesn't seem like it," he teases.

You click your tongue and push his face out of yours. He chuckles and you couldn't help but let go of a chuckle or two.

"You're an idiot, Rogers," you remarked.

Steve props the side of his face with his hand, watching the way you move around the place, frolicking from one spot to another. He watched you like you had the stars in your hands and hung them up in the sky. Even in a dull all-black uniform and hair twisted in a loose bun with a few strands running rampant, there's a glow to you that has him warm on the inside. Your face was bare, only marked with an acne scar here and there and dark circles underneath your eyes due to a lack of sleep and yet, he thinks you're the prettiest thing in the world.

"What?" You asked puzzled and slightly embarrassed.

"Nothing," he smiled, a tint of pink spreading on his cheeks.

"Don't you have anything to do?" You asked. "Or is the mob all talk and no work?"

"I finished early," Steve replied with a chuckle. "So I thought I'd meet my favorite waitress."

"Oh, I'm so honored," you replied sarcastically earning a roll of the eyes from him. You leaned over the counter in front of him with a smirk. "And what have I done to earn a visit from the high and mighty kingpin?"

"Stole my heart," he murmurs.

"What?" You asked standing straight. I didn't hear that. Let's pretend I didn't hear that.

"N-nothing," he quickly replied.

You shake it off as a trick of the mind. "Well if you're here we might as well do something," you dug your hand into your pocket.

"Good idea!" He exclaimed.

"Here," you slammed a stack of cards with a rubber band twisted a few times around.

He furrowed his brows. "What the heck is this?"

"My flashcards. You're gonna help me study," you stated calmly.

Steve groans. "I thought we'd do something more heartfelt to get to know each other more."

"There's the door if you wanna leave," you deadpanned.

"Fine," Steve huffs. "Gimme that." He snatches the cards from you.

Slipping off the rubber band, he flips through the cards and picks a random one.

"Alright," he reads the flashcard. First, he squints then opens them wide in confusion. "I don't understand what this says. It's not even in English."

"Lemme see that," you took it from him.

"It says deoxyribonucleic acid."

"What the fuck is that?" He questioned, his nose scrunched in disgust.

"Its DNA, stupid head," you retorted, slightly annoyed.

"Then why didn't you just write that?"

"Cause I wanna practice spelling it, moron, and cut the sass before I end up kicking your ass to next Tuesday."

Steve smiled, feeling a streak of mischief. "Damn, sweetheart, you sound so pretty when you talk like that. Keep going." He cooed.

Your cheeks burn read. "D-don't say things like that! You're such a weirdo!" You stammered with an angry pout.  

"Oh, my heart!" He exclaimed while clutching his chest. "You're making me see stars!”

"Shut up, you idiot!"

"Why don't you make me with those pretty lips of yours?" Unable to say anything you yank on his ear hard and he yelps. "Ouch, that hurts!"

"Fucking good!" You shouted still pulling on him.

Wanda watched from the small window of the kitchen with a smile. "They make a good match, don’t they?" She asked May. May chuckles while watching you pour out your rage on the poor mob man.

"Like peanut butter and jelly."

A/N: School starts next week for me so updates will get slow. 

TAG LIST:  @ashwarren32​ @rootcrop​ @siriusement​ @savedbystark​ @little-dark-empress​ @great-goddess-of-sin​  @boxofteenageideas​   @imsonick​  @scuzmunkie​ @achishisha​ @calwitch​​ @chuckennuggets1213​​ @captainchrisstan​ @thirstybunz​ @voltage-my2dlove​

[vminity21]

Hold Your Hand Again | jjk

Pairing: Student!Jungkook x Female!Reader, BestFriend!Jimin x Reader, ExBoyfriend!Namjoon x Reader, school!au

Genre: fluff/angst

Word Count: 2,369

Warning: none really, just angst revolving a past relationship, rating: pg

Summary: You are a busy bee, with a best friend, who gets your heart broken by an ex-boyfriend who happens to move on much quicker than you expected. Unbeknownst to you, someone who you happen to get partnered with, understands exactly what you’re going through, foreshadowing what will potentially be the most beautiful relationship you truly deserve.

With squinted eyes you observe the batter, sucking in your lips, concentration reflecting off your expression while the audience watches in hushed murmurs. All eyes are on you- both teams in a tie- if this batter hits a home run, the team will leave with triumphant smiles, shouting in victory whilst you slump in defeat. Though the pressure of striking out the opposing team weighs heavy, you brush it off, shrugging your shoulders once before posing, swinging your arm rapidly before tossing the ball toward the umpire.

"Strike one!" is yelled, you roll your neck from side to side, a breath of relief escapes momentarily before you ready yourself for the next throw. Despite today's events, you can't escape the list of things you still need to do this evening. With a new choir song being introduced tomorrow as well as the dance competition next weekend, you have hardly caught a breath; yet, the busy life is all you can be grateful for. Especially with the way, things have been going with-

"Strike two!" The bat nearly blows the ball out of the park but by one split second, the opposite team member misses- your heart racing within you, you furrow your eyebrows, sweat beading along your forehead, the sun beaming down onto the field relentlessly making its presence known. This is it, you add mentally, This. Is. It.

With one fast swoop, the ball lands in the umpire's mitt, "STRIKE THREE!" When the audience rejoices with upraising 'hoots' and 'hollers', you, with a wide smile, bend forward, your hands resting on your knees, the adrenaline gradually leaving your frame. The team members crash into you, clinging onto you tightly- abruptly, you're raised into the air, rump landing on a strong shoulder, smiling down to reveal your ecstatic best friend, Park Jimin, pumping a free fist in the air. Eyes panning the audience, you search for the one person you hoped kept their word. When your smile falls, thankfully nobody notices, your heart shatters, eyelids brim with warm tears. Jimin sets you down, you trying to get lost in the elation encircling you without exposing one ounce of pain.

If Namjoon thinks he is redeeming himself, he really thought wrong.

Black and white pictures align your bedroom walls; pictures that hold the memories of your friends and family, adventures you've been on, even random pictures of dance routines you've been a part of, or solos given to you in chorus class. Though Spongebob plays in the background to prevent complete silence, you wipe away at the tears threatening to spill onto your desk, refusing to make eye contact with yourself in the mirror. Namjoon's called twice since you've been home, and you have already reviewed through the musical notes, though your brain can hardly concentrate on anything but your now ex-boyfriend.

When the loud vibration of your phone sounds again, you sniffle, raising your head just enough to see who is calling. "Jimin," you murmur. Grabbing your phone in one swift movement, you answer trying to suppress the thickness in your voice from the crying,

"Alright," Jimin echoes through the phone line, "What's wrong?" Jimin is the Patrick to your Spongebob, the two of you have been best friends since elementary school- the brother you've never had, but always wanted.

"Excuse me, Mister Intuitive," you let out a breathy laugh, wincing at the loud sniffle that sounds in order to clear your nostrils. "Let's get straight to the point, huh?"

"[Y/N], if he hurt you, I'm going to-"

"Chim," you interrupt, slamming your eyes shut from the pain overriding your countenance, "I don't want to talk about it,"

"[Y/N], seriously, you can't keep things bottled up so much, it's unhealthy,"

"I get it, Chim, but right now's just-"

"Not the right time," silence floods the line, you hear Jimin's muffled sigh of frustration, "I just want you to be okay. He's hurt you way too much, and you just keep letting him." You pinch the bridge of your nose, shoulders trembling from fighting the sobs you manage to repress all too well.

"Chim," but that's when your voice breaks, Jimin's heart nearly falls to his feet.

"I'm coming over," is all he says. Showing up at your door within twenty minutes, Jimin envelops you in a tight hug, you burying your face into his shoulder, "I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood for some-"

"SpumBom?" Your muffled voice causes a wide smile to spread on Jimin's face.

"Yes, yes that's exactly it, SpumBom and Packwit," when he follows you to the living room, he settles beside you on the couch, "By the way have you practiced any of the choreography for next week?"

"Uh," you draw out, "Kinda,"

Jimin's eyes widen, "You know this is like, a mid-term grade right,"

"I know, I know," you swat your hand at him, "I just- I've been busy,"

"I'm aware," Jimin narrows his eyes, observing the way you avoid his gaze, "And tomorrow Mr. Kim is assigning us partners for the spring concert. Same with Mr. Jung. If I were you, I'd start stepping."

You, exasperated, bury your face in your hands, "Why can't you let me slack for five seconds,"

"Because that's not the [Y/N] I know and love," Jimin's teasing glare lifts your spirits, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Love you, too you brute."

The morning comes fast, you rushing to class close to breathless, hair swaying behind you until your steps come to a halt. Setting your bag at the back of the classroom, you swivel around, hearing Mr. Kim Seokjin announce that the partner assignments are listed on the whiteboard. The vibrant pink paper is taped high enough for everyone to see it, though you with crossed arms stand before it, eyes searching until you find your name.

"Jeon Jungkook," you whisper, tilting your head in surprise. Jungkook is the most well-known singer and dancer of the entire school, Jimin being right behind him hence why you and Jimin tend to practice together though with everything that's been going on with Namjoon has ceased that for the time being, you can't help but curiously scan the classroom your eyes finding the slim figure of Jungkook; his hands in the pockets of black slacks, dawning a light brown shirt that sits loosely along his torso, gold earrings decorate his ear lobes, green strands blend into his dark hair covering his forehead as he searches along the list of names. You're staring, not noticing how long you've remained standing there, letting the wonder of him captivate you in a way you don't understand. As if he feels your gaze, his eyes catch yours, timorously bowing in your direction, your cheeks flushing with the chagrin clouding your features.

"Alright, class! As soon as you find your partner, please take a seat so we can begin."

Gulping, you follow the teacher's directions, shoulders tensing when Jungkook relaxes into the seat beside you. Timidly, he peeks over at you, "Hello, I'm Jungkook," he offers his hand formally, you return it much quicker than you anticipate.

"And, I'm [Y/N]," you take note of the way his thin lips fall into a kind grin, small dimples forming on his cheeks, shy, brown eyes bore into yours, even the sharpness of his jawline...

You look away the moment a student slaps the new music sheet onto your lap. Realizing it's Jimin, you playfully glare at him- Jimin chuckling to himself until all the music sheets have been handed to the other pupils. When he settles in his seat, you notice Jimin has been partnered with your acquaintance LenLen- someone he's had a crush on since the beginning of time prompting you to sneak him a text with emojis indicating that you're aware of his current partnership. Of course, when Jimin sends you the 'eye roll', you stifle the giggles wanting to erupt.

The second class ends, you rush to your bag, slinging it behind your shoulder, immediately heading in the direction of your next class. What you see nearly knocks you off your feet, heart tearing in half as your pained gaze is fixated on Namjoon who is cornering a snickering girl, her hands wrapped around his wrists as he leans in for a sloppy kiss.

"What?" The figures in the distance blur, you blink, but a tear pangs your cheek, the world pausing around you to the point you hardly notice the soft fingers interlacing with yours. Swallowing, you break eye contact with the devastating scene ahead, looking toward your shoes to notice the hand holding yours. With furrowed eyebrows, your eyes trail to see the mesmerizing orbs of Jeon Jungkook, his parted lips remain, but his eyes read something along the lines of, 'Follow my lead.' You typically don't play along with scenarios like this, but at this moment, you don't care.

Squeezing his hand, he nods once after your approval, stepping ahead of you, you follow suit. Jungkook glances at you once both of you near the interlocked couple, you keep his stare refusing to look away. Jungkook's thumb runs along the back of your hand collecting stares from the hallway audience- two pairs of the eyes belonging to Namjoon and his new attraction. If tension really is a thing, you know it now, especially with the girl glaring daggers into the back of your skull; Namjoon's Adam's apple bobs at the clench of his jaw.

When you make it to your next class, Jungkook fully faces you, nerves jittering within his tummy mirroring your quivering arms. "Don't move," he whispers, leaning forward, planting a sweet kiss upon your cheek. The sensation of it lingers, you want to touch the delicate spot, but refrain. Your mouth ajar from the shock overwhelming your expression. "I'll see you in dance class." He nods, you robotically turning on a heel to find your desk, your conscious filling with swarming questions, the main one being: 'What. Just happened?'

Stretching is always how dance class begins, you lean forward until your fingertips brush the tip of your shoe. Thankfully, dance is your last class of the day, and you make it early enough, finding some sense of peace before students start filing in. Mr. Jung Hoseok must have run to grab some lunch since he isn't sitting at his desk, and as you continue maneuvering your body around with different stretches, someone flops beside you.

At first, you think it's Jimin, "Well, well, well, if it isn't Pinhead Larry," you bellow, turning to face with utter horror that Jungkook is staring at you blankly. The blood drains from your face and you open your mouth and shut it multiple times with no words forming. That's when a sly smirk grows onto his lips,

"And if I'm not mistaken, you must be Dirty Dan."

"You-" You stutter, "You watch Spongebob?"

He chuckles finding your look of astonishment quite cute, "Every day," he beams. The two of you return to stretching, your mind racing, but there is one question you can't seem to shake off, especially with what happened earlier today; the feel of his lips on your skin still felt even after hours since it was placed. Slanting your head, you muster enough courage to ask,

"Why-" You stammer, "How- how did you know?"

A look of recognition shows within his eyes when he glimpses at you, swallowing at the lump in his throat, sadness seems evident just from the way his lips purse; but the moment ends way too soon, for people start making their way into the classroom, you moving to stand to your feet, Mr. Jung announcing class is about to begin.

When class ends, you're grateful, the exercise is nice, especially when it relieves the majority of the stress threatening to haunt you. With a quick swig from a water fountain in the hallway, you run a sweaty palm through your hair, briefly checking your phone to see Jimin texted you to remind you to practice the choreography which causes you to chortle at his persistence.

"So," a voice sounds, you whirling to see Jungkook making his way to you, "I believe you asked a question I may or may not have the answer to."

"Answer while you walk me to my car?" You're shocked with how quick-witted you became in that moment; especially with that being something you would typically only reiterate to Jimin. Jungkook doesn't hesitate- backpack hanging off his shoulders, tendrils in slight disarray from dancing, he walks you to your car, both of you facing each other once you reach it.

"So how did you know?" You repeat the question, folding your arms across your chest to bring some form of comfort. Jungkook's tongue pokes at his cheek, him avoiding eye contact at first, "She's, um," his hands cuddle into his pockets, his shoulders tensing, "She's my ex-girlfriend." The girl your ex was with.

Of course, you're shocked when you hear his words as sympathy gathers within you, relating to him on a spiritual level. The only thing you can't seem to get past is how you had no idea Jungkook was dating anyone before. Maybe it's because he's mostly quiet- keeps to himself a lot- hence why you never truly noticed him until today.

"I'm- I'm so sorry," you whisper, hugging yourself tighter. Jungkook shrugs, looking ahead, his eyes trailing the multitude of cars in the parking lot. "I had no idea."

"It's not your fault," he meets your eyes, the genuine shine of them reaching to the depths of your soul that have needed to be healed for some time. "Besides, they had it coming. And," his voice softens, "I wouldn't mind holding your hand again."

Your eyes widen, his words making the pace of your heart quicken before you can think to reply. Namjoon never said words so sweet, wishing you would have paid attention to the red flags before you discovered his infidelity. Regardless, new hope arises, one you don't voice, but instead, reaching your hand forward, Jungkook gently taking it, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, leaving yet another small peck to burn into your memory forever.

[triptychexe]

TITLE: 2016 Gaon Music Awards SUMMARY: Triptych attend the 2016 Gaon Music Awards, make some connections, and win an award. PAIRING: Alluded Changkyun/Yen, some Asayen?, setting up Jooheon/Zim, Cal/Rosé mentioned? GENRE: Friendship, some fluffiness?  WORD COUNT: 1.9k WARNINGS: Some swearing, alluded bathroom hookups. 

Asa twiddled his thumbs and gazed out of the limo bus’s window solemnly. If he had to look at what his members were wearing, he’d remember that they are all wearing color-coded outfits. If he remembered that they all looked like a crayola factory explosion, he’d never leave the vehicle. 

After taking two more turns, the bus finally pulled up to the venue and red carpet. Asahiko let out an involuntary whine. How could he forget about the red carpet? Now there’s going to be photographic proof of their tacky matching outfits. 

“C’mon, Koko, quit being a baby.” Micha, who was sitting next to him, gave him a nudge with her elbow. It was easy for her to say. She looked beautiful. "Why do we have to look like a crayola ad? Couldn't we have just dressed like sluts and called it a day?" Asa complained. On the other side of Micha, Calvin let out a bark of a laugh. Yerin didn’t look too pleased with the comment, but she just shook her head. Eli looked over his shoulder at the younger boy, giving him a look that told Asa that he better go along with it, or there will be a price to pay.

Asahiko swallowed his pride and stepped out of the bus. He turned around to help Yen get out of the car without tripping over her heels. He extended his hand to help Ura down, but she gave him a scowl. He took the hint and followed behind Yen, heading towards the red carpet. 

After a blinding photo-op, the group finally made it to inside the venue. A staff member lead the idols down to their seats. Asa couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the venue in awe. Not only was it spectacularly decorated, but there were just so many idols everywhere. Even though he was fully aware that he too was an idol, it always seemed a little surreal when he passes a famous singer and realizes that they are in the same line of work.

“Hey!” Yen called out, waving her hand excitedly. Asa’s eyes landed on Monsta X, who were sitting right in front of their assigned seating. 

Monsta X rose to greet Triptych, exchanging a mix of handshakes and polite bows as the nine members settled into their seats. 

“Hey man,” Asa grinned, shaking hands with one of his best friends, Changkyun. “How’s it going?” 

“Alright. I like the blue,” Changkyun grinned, giving his friend a look over. “Really suits you.” Asa arched an eyebrow playfully. “You checking me out, bro?” Changkyun wrinkled his nose. “You wish.” 

“Hey, Changkyun.” Yen butted in, batting her eyelashes at the rapper. Changkyun grinned, his eyes scanning over Yen’s dress. “Hey, Micha. You’re looking gorgeous tonight.” Asa fought back the urge to roll his eyes. If his friends were going to flirt the whole night, he was going to go sit with another group.

Yen smirked before checking the clock on her phone. “When do you think the show will start?” Asa shrugged, leaning over to check Yen’s phone as well. “Probably like… Thirty minutes?” 

“That works. I’m going to run to the restroom really quick.” Yen rose to her feet, smoothing her dress out. She gave Changkyun one last knowing glance before hurrying off to the restroom. 

Changkyun tapped his fingers on the back of the seat, his eyes watching Yen as she left. Asahiko huffed, a mild annoyance building up in his chest. 

“Dude, you should make your staring a little less obvious.” Asahiko advised. Changkyun’s attention snapped back to Asahiko suddenly, as if he forgot all about him to begin with. “Huh? Oh, yeah. You’re right.” The Monsta X member let out a dry chuckle. “Uh… Yeah. I think I’m just gonna run to the bathroom real quick too…” 

Asahiko watched as his friend hurried off. He slouched a little lower in his chair. Of all the women in Triptych, why did Changkyun have to crush on his best friend? 

Down the row of Triptych members, Zim was trying really hard to keep herself in control. She’s been begging Yen for months to introduce her to Monsta X. Monsta X was Eunha’s favorite idol group and now she’s making small talk with them.

“So, wait,” Shownu furrowed his eyebrows together. “Your lineup isn’t complete yet, even though you already debuted?” Zim and Nia shook their heads in unison. “Well, yes and no,” Nia mused. “I guess it’s complete for now, but we still are expanding our lineup…” 

Nia launched herself into a spiel about Triptych and their concept to Shownu and Wonho. Zim wasn’t deaf to the subtle praises that Nia wove into her explanation. A smile quirked on Zim’s lips. Where was that fondness during dance practice? 

“Are you guys performing tonight?” Jooheon asked. Zim looked at Nia, expecting her leader to answer. However, Nia was still talking to Wonho and Shownu, completely distracted. With a shock, Eunha realized that Jooheon had directed the question at her. Zim looked back to Jooheon, trying to focus on his eyebrow instead of looking him right in the eye.

“Yeah, we’re going on at around ten.” Zim said roboticly. Jooheon nodded. “Cool, cool…” His eyes drifted around the arena while his fingers drummed against the seat anxiously.

There was an awkward air between the two of them, and Eunha had a feeling she knew why. Last year, Eunha had mentioned in an interview that Jooheon was her idol crush. She had said it with such confidence back then, but now she was regretting ever saying anything. He must have seen the interview, or at least heard about it. Why else would he be so tense around her? 

Eunha couldn’t stand silences like this. She had to say something. Apologize, even, for saying that he was her idol crush. She couldn’t go the whole night avoiding him when he was sitting right in front of her. 

“I’ve been meaning to-” 

Eunha paused when she realized her voice wasn’t the only one speaking. The two of them had said the exact same thing at the exact same time. Eunha’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Jooheon’s eyes went wide before a small, sheepish smile turned his lips upward. “Sorry, you first.” He said. “No, no, you first.” Zim responded. “No, you.” Jooheon insisted. “You can go, it’s really okay with-” “Eunha, just say what you wanna say.” Minhyuk intervened. “He won’t back down from things like this. He finds it amusing.”

Jooheon gave Minhyuk a sour look before focusing his attention back on Eunha. Zim took a deep breath before speaking.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I named you as my idol crush.” Eunha’s cheeks were cherry red. “I’ve heard.” Jooheon smirked. “And I’m honored that someone as talented as you would name me their ideal type.”  Zim blinked, unsure of how to respond to that, so she continued with her apology. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”   Jooheon gave a small laugh. “I’m not uncomfortable, not in the slightest. I was going to ask you if you’d be interested in maybe working on some music together at some point.” 

Zim’s jaw dropped. She could feel her brain working overtime trying to piece together what Jooheon had just said. Her favorite idol wanted to work with her? The rapper in front of her chuckled in a fond way. “Cute.” He said under his breath, but it was just loud enough for Zim to hear it. The short comment brought her back down to Earth, her cheeks going from pale to pink. 

“Yes.” Zim said suddenly before catching herself. “I mean, yeah. I’d love to work together. I can give you my manager’s number and we can plan it out later?” 

Jooheon and Eunha swapped information just as the lights started to dim in the arena. As the cheers started erupting from the fans, Yen and Changkyun finally returned, flopping down in their respected seats. Zim blinked in horror at the small smudge of red lipstick under Yen’s lower lip. 

Yen caught her group mate starring and ran her thumb under her lip, removing any excess product from her skin. “Mind your business.” She said gruffly.

Eunha didn’t need to be told twice. She turned her body away from her younger friend and focused on the MCs, who were just announcing the 2016 Gaon Music Awards had begun. 

If Van squeezed Cal’s hand any harder, Cal was sure he’d have permanent nerve damage in his fingertips. Even though the possibility of never feeling anything with his hands ever again scared him, what scared him even more was the results for New Artist of the Year. He was probably gripping Van just as hard, both of them curling in towards each other as they watched the MC open the envelope with the results slowly. 

“Best new male group goes to… NCT127!” The MC stated. Near them, NCT127 rose to their feet, shocked looks on all their faces. The members of Triptych also rose, cheering for their friends as they made their way to the stage.

“They deserve it.” Van said to Cal, clapping his hands together. “They’re very talented.” “I can’t tell if you’re trying to take the high road or if you’re being genuine.” Cal admitted. Van smirked and shook his head. “I’m not worried, they still have two rookie awards to give out. One of those is ours.” Van said confidently. 

After NCT127 disappeared off stage, the MCs took over again to announce the second rookie award.

“Best new female artist goes to…” The MC dragged out. “Blackpink!” 

Triptych rose again, cheering for the four girls, despite them never meeting the YG girl group. Cal’s clapping faltered when Rosé’s face was put up on the big screens. She was really pretty. Like… Very pretty. Her smile was bright as she spoke into the microphone, accepting the award humbly. Her motions seemed so fluid, so perfect. Cal never believed in religion or anything like that, but he was convinced that Rosé had been sent straight from the heavens. An angel on Earth. “Wow.” Calvin said under his breath, watching Rosé and her members disappear behind stage. 

“Someone’s got a crush.” Van teased, nudging Calvin playfully.

“Shut up.” Cal rolled his eyes.

The MC returned to the mic and a stiff silence fell over Triptych as they all sat down together again, clutching each other’s hands. On the opposite side of him, Ura latched onto his hand. Van curled back in towards Cal, as if bracing himself for an explosion. 

“Best new artist award goes to…” The MC peeled open the envelope. With a small smile the MC leaned in and spoke clearly. “Triptych!” 

“AH!” Van yelped, instantly covering his mouth, his eyes wide. Cal looked between his friends, the win not registering in his brain. 

Nia took initiative and led everyone to the stage. Looking up at the big screen, Cal realized that Nia was brushing away tears impatiently, like the emotional response was too inconvenient. He’s never seen Yerin be emotional over anything before. Seeing Nia be this proud of them made Cal’s throat close up. 

“We want to thank our company, HBH Entertainment, for all the opportunities and support they have given us,” Nia spoke into the microphone, her voice cracking slightly. Teo placed a supportive hand on Nia’s shoulder, patting her in encouragement.

“We also want to thank our Artychs, who never fail to show us love.” Nia’s tears were really flowing now. She wiped them away quickly and swallowed thickly. “Artych, we love you. Thank you.” 

“We love you Artych, thank you for everything!” Asa yelled in Japanese, clapping proudly.

“We love you, Artych, thank you very much!” Ura jumped in, speaking the phrase in Chinese. 

“We love you to the moon and back, Artych. Thank you so so much.” Zim concluded in English. With that, Triptych was ushered off the stage.

[brwnskin-bunnyteeth]

Golden

A/N: Here it is!! About 2K of gibberish and longing. Hope y’all like this!! I did this as part of @hsogolden ‘s #FineLineFicChallenge. Sorry for the late entry! :-)

summary: heartbreak, Shakespeare, and bars

When she first met Harry, Y/N didn’t know what to make of him. The bar was dark, starlight shining down on a local performing spoken word, the population focused most on the performers and in booths, her friend waving her toward her barstool. Taking in her surroundings, admiring the various vintage posters and shirts that decorated the walls, the exposed brick and homely booths, and the brown-haired bartender that was currently chatting up her friend. 

His hair, curly, a golden brown mess on top of his head, hands decorated with green and yellow nail polish and a spattering of rings, a gaudy dress shirt thrown on them. 

She’d been friends with Dahlia long enough to know that Harry was an ex, someone that she didn’t connect with romantically but claimed he was her “shag soulmate”. But there wasn’t much that she knew about him, just that they were merely friends with benefits at the moment, an arrangement that was largely on hold as long as Dahlia stuck with her current fling. 

His hand reached out to her as she sat down, a dimple appearing on his face, “ ‘m Harry.” 

“ Y/N,” she said, as her hand dwarfed under his large grasp, his fingers calloused, his eyes boring down into her as he nodded and repeated her name as if he were reciting ancient text and couldn’t mess up the pronunciation. Dahlia simply rolling her eyes, ordering a cocktail and shots, and jumping into a work story. 

Harry would join in here and there, chuckling at them. 

 And at times, he’d center his attention to her, head in hand as he intensely listened to her talk, his attention unwavering as cupid’s bow smites at her weary heart. Other moments, he’d be zoned out, listening to the slam poetry and serenades being played by locals and his hands would break the bubble they’d place around themselves whenever he was particularly enraptured. 

 Dahlia would later recant his behavior as normal, that he’d always been so impassioned and affected. Describing him as sensitive and dreamy-eyed.

 The night ended uneventfully after the last of the patrons mulled out at 1 am. Harry calling a cab as he and a coworker closed up. 

Her head full of dizzying thoughts when she was given his number, “I can tell we’re gonna be good friends, better to get this away with”, wide-eyed and just drunk enough to only be able to reply in a stuttering thanks as she drove away. His hand wriggling at her yellow cab, a faint dimple dotting the left side of his face, the sky clear and starry-eyed.

  Waking up, Y/N was greeted with, “ ‘til next time, good night xx. ” to her “ got home safely “ text. They’d only known each other for a night and he already had a hold on her. 

A nice cold shower brings her back to reality, as she scrubs his green eyes and cologne out of her system. His curly brown hair and easy smile invading her senses, butterflies flying about in her chest. It’d been so long, desire and infatuation feeling new and unnatural in her body. But she couldn’t let herself have a girly crush on a man like him, someone as enchanting as him—especially not one who regularly shags her friend. 

Anything romantic was just a figment of her mind, obviously starving for affection and latching onto anyone remotely nice and endearing. He was just a nice guy, one who kept an agonizing gaze on her face whenever she spoke, one who smelled really nice despite working a whole shift at the bar. There was nothing remarkable about him, nothing worth getting attached to.

And yet, it was like her body was punishing her for being away from him, dealing with withdrawals after only meeting him once. Chest hurting as she thought about him.

Two weeks would go by and she’s still thinking of him. She passes by his pub on bus rides and a second always comes where her fingers swipe to his number, yearning to feast her eyes on him again. 

Aphrodite herself would soon take pity on her state this night, Y/N unaware as she walks up the theater steps. Her mood, however, is morose when the night begins. Anxiety eats at her from the inside out, hands wringing as she avoids familiar faces in the theater hall. 

Large posters don the walls, the face of her ex spread out in colossal laminated fashion and staring down at the floor. 

It has been three months since Y/N’d seen him, her heart just as heavy as the day he left. It felt silly, still affected by his frame, still as love-sick, still as devastated. 

He looked good, he was doing well. Memories of auditions and line readings, of all the frustration and dedication and late nights, flood her and she can’t help but be delighted for him. He’d been working hard for so long, and securing a lead role in this play was a dream of his. 

Her ticket arrived after the fight, from when her presence was expected and assumed. And at first, she just ignored it; still too heartbroken to acknowledge his presence without tearing up. But she’d been preparing for this event for so long, too much of her energy wasted on him and this play, that it felt absurd to not at least go and see the damn thing. Even if she wasn’t attached to him anymore, even if she wasn’t even keen on theater. 

Y/N can feel eyes boring into her, a chill moving down her figure as she enters. At this moment, she can tell she’s not going to get through the night without at least one drink if she planned on staying placid. Too many of his friends, his family, and his coworkers occupy the space, people she hasn't spoken to for far too long. She wondered if any of them knew about what happened or if they missed her or if she was even welcomed anymore. 

The bar offers some relief; ordering a chill mojito, she admires the marble counter and intricate chandeliers on the ceiling, her eyes nervously looking around. And when her drink is placed in front of her, she reaches into her wallet, but her actions are interrupted when a familiar voice and ringed hand put some money down.

“Let me take care of that for you, bunty.” 

Y/N can feel her heart jump all the way up her throat, gasping up at his frame and meeting his sparkling emerald eyes for the first time in weeks. She can feel her face warm up, heart beating as he peers down and wraps an arm around the back of her barstool. All she can do for a second is gape and gasp out a small objection, “Harry I-”

But his hand comes up, shaking his head, “No, nope”, dimples protruding as he continues to smile at her. “I’ve got this” he simpers, ordering his own drink and leaning in as other patrons squeeze by to grab a drink before the show. His voice turns sincere, low, when he takes a full hard look at her, “You look nice, really like that color on you”

And she wants to admonish him, wants to push his money away, wants to question his behavior, but his scent envelopes her—feeling fixed under his gaze. Tension fills the air and she’s drawing her eyes over him as well. 

He’s wearing a red patterned vest with an embroidered oxford shirt collar peeking out at the top with the sleeves folded; his pants wide-legged and grayish-blue, loafers brown and heeled. His hair is parted in the middle, and his facial hair has grown, nails painted watermelon red and bright green. Several rings occupy his hands, and a pearl necklace winks at her from his neck and she breathes out a light, “So do you” before chasing her drink. 

He’s laughing now, music to her ears, and she wants to bottle it up and save it for later. The two of them take another glance at each other, grins on their faces, silence falling as they take sips of their drinks. 

The play begins after they make their way to their seats, the objection of her despair taking the stage. Seeing him for the first time in weeks affects her more than she realized it would. 

Y/N knew heartbreak. At age 13, she experienced her first. As a cruel joke, the second hottest boy in her grade level pulled her to the side and kissed her, called her sexy, all for a dare, to win $40 for kissing a pig. He’d stolen her first kiss, playing with her emotions for forty fucking dollars. Her first reaction was to kick him in the nuts. And it gave her some relief, but tears still stung her cheeks, his pain doing nothing to soothe the heartache he inflicted on her.

She spent the rest of the night hiding in the bathroom, too ashamed to tell her parents, too broken to even speak of the incident. Weeks later, a new boy from New York tells her that he fancies her, well all she could do was laugh. How could someone as cool and cute as him like her?  Her heart hardened then, the first of many betrayals. 

So when she met Benji, she let herself settle, let herself be taken in by the conceited prick who didn’t deserve her love. They’d been together for almost two years but had known each other longer, Benji’s mom running a daycare next door. And she’d loved Benji, still did. 

But, sitting there next to Harry, a thought occurred to her. Here is Benji, performing and doing an amazing and inspiring performance in front of industry folk. The fruits of his labor were finally blooming. Yet, she had little to show for those two years. It felt like a waste of her time, her youth. All of her focus was on him, not her. 

She felt disgusted, her eyes wetting up and shooting daggers in his direction, his eyesight blinded by the stage lights. She thought she’d gone through the worst of it, that she was done crying, and yet tears threatened to fall down her cheeks—-stomach churning and leg antsy. Why did she drag herself down here? What did she think was going to happen? Was he supposed to realize that he was wrong for cheating on her, for dumping her, and welcome her back in? Was that really what she wanted?

The Shakespearean play continued in the foreground, Y/N slipping into what felt like a panic attack. Her heart dug at her chest, her feet propping her back up and leading her through the double doors. 

The lobby is empty, one patron sitting at the bar, the play muffled but continuing in the background. Y/N feels the cold air and is granted with relief, head still spinning with negativity. Not a minute passes before the orchestra is unmuffled, the doors opening and showcasing Harry. He chases after her, concern on his face. 

She feels embarrassed, embarrassed for him to see her like this, embarrassed to have made a scene. She turns to tell him to leave her alone when she’s engulfed in his arms, head resting on hers. 

“You alright?”, his voice whispers as his arms rub her back, earnestly trying to calm her down. He’s looking at her, his eyes looking her up and down, trying to identify anything concerning. She’s humiliated, clutching onto his body like a toddler, internally deciding if she wanted to tell him everything. When she looks into his eyes, her lips detach from her teeth, and she tells him as much as he needs to know. 

While she explains everything, he’s nodding, his face serious as his hands continue to rub her shoulders and back. He squeezes her tighter, his eyebrows furrowing as he takes in everything. He’s so quiet that Y/N can’t help but feel as though she shared too much. That he was only pretending to care, being a friend of a friend. But then he’s grabbing her shoulders, voice tight, as he speaks up, “Y/N, he’s a dick. He’s an absolute prick, and he doesn’t deserve to be cried over. I’m so sorry he hurt you like that.” He’s letting out a breath, anguish appearing on his face, as he continues, “you are not hard to love. the right people will love you because of who you are, not despite you. you're worthy of that love, and I don’t know if I should be the one to give that to you, but I like you. And I’d like to try and be the one to give that to you.”

Harry’s gripping her hands now, the weight of his words affecting her as she searches his face for any deceit. She tries to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish, pursing her lips as she gathers her bearings. “Harry, that’s...I don’t know what to say.” 

Mind racing as her mind begins to warp and twist his words. She’s rejecting his statement, mind unfurling and rejecting him.

He can feel her pull away, can see her do the mental gymnastics to reject his words, wracking his brain for some way to convince her otherwise. “I get that you’re scared. Rightly should be. But, you deserve happiness. I want to help you get over this talentless jerk. Wanna mend your broken heart.” 

His hands move to her jaw, bringing her closer and boring into her eyes, “I know I’m acting pathetic, bunty, you’re just so striking that I haven’t been able to go a day without thinking of you. You’ve got me under control, have since you walked into my bar. I can’t imagine the thought of anyone else when I’ve got you right here.”

The air is charged, their bodies close to one another, eyes faced squarely on each other. Y/N can feel her heartbeat out of her chest, hands trembling on his biceps. His face is backlit by the golden chandeliers of the lobby, the only other sounds either muffled or clinking glass bottles. 

He’s right, she’s scared. Scared of getting her heartbroken all over again, of being used by yet another man in her life. And yet, she wants to give in. His green eyes are tracing her features and she’s never before felt as snug and protected like this. 

The space between them closes and his nose slides against her, her eyes fluttering closed before softly responding, “I don’t know what to think. You’re so bare, so frank, that it’s scary. How do I know that you won’t do the same as him?”

Harry kisses her. He presses his lips against hers, their bodies pressed closer than ever, eyes shut, as they both enjoy the moment. Harry kisses her like his life depends on it, her jaw in his hands. He kisses her like no one else has ever done. She’s breathless as she chases after him, want increasing by the second. Arms reach his neck and pull at his hair, his grip on her back as the kiss deepens. 

Every fiber of her being is telling her to stop, that she shouldn’t trust him, that he’s just another smooth talker. But she can’t stop. His intoxifying taste has pulled her in, too drunk on his words and actions to even care anymore. 

Pulling away, his lips follow, until Y/N is pushing him back. Her hands rest on his shoulders as the two share moony-eyed looks. Catching her breath, thumb reaching to rub off a bit of her lipstick from his lips, Y/N drops her hands to his. She pulls his arm, his body following after her as she heads for the door, eyes hooded, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

Harry smiles, dimples jutting out, as he nods and pulls her in for one last knee-wobbling kiss, as they head out the door and into the golden sunset.