do people love me yet or do i need to make more

I’ve wanted to talk for So Long about the portrayal of anxiety in YOI but I’ve been having so much trouble putting together what I want to say in the most effective manner. I kept trying to come at this in a more analytical fashion, but considering that this is such a personally important topic to me, I’m going to try a more emotional approach. Something I don’t normally do.

So really, to start off, I wanna say that I’m so damn thankful for the way Yuuri is written. Really, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever had the ability to relate more to character; Yuuri is close to a mirror of my own experiences with anxiety and it’s so fantastic to have a model of development and growth for me and people like me. I found the portrayal to be frighteningly accurate, from types of thoughts, behaviors, mannerisms… I think the episode that stood out to me the most in terms of Yuuri’s anxiety was ep7, aka Yuuri’s on-screen panic attack episode. 

The first thing I noticed was this: 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself in that exact position. I bounce my legs when I panic, just like Yuuri is doing here. Head in his hands, breathing heavily, bouncing and jostling limbs. This isn’t the Mary-Sue cutesy portrayal of anxiety–this is a real anxiety disorder. It’s not pretty. It’s not easy. It can’t be fixed with a single word or a touch or a person. Quite frankly, it’s ugly and you lose control of your body. 

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I’m glad we’re not getting a Season 2 this year

I’ve seen people disappointed about the movie, and wanting a Season 2 in October.

My perspective is… This is the BEST NEWS THAT I HAVE HEARD in this fandom, hallelujah.

The biggest enemy that Yuri on Ice has always had is its own success. When your show is basically printing money in DVD and merchandise sales, you can bet that the higher ups are breathing down your neck. Do more. Do it now. Do it faster. If you find a goose that lays golden eggs, by all means, make that thing lay as fast as it freaking can, and while you’re at it, can you make those eggs any bigger?

I have seen success absoutely ruin amazing shows/series/book series/etc. Over and over and over again.

This is particularly true when the show/series/book series has a strong romantic subplot, as Yuri on Ice does. That’s because often, in order to keep people who are invested in the romance invested, shows tend to do one of two things: 1. Keep people from getting together long after any reasonable person could imagine that they’d be apart, or 2. Add ridiculous drama to keep splitting them apart and then getting them back together.

I trust Kubo and Yamamoto. I don’t for one second trust bean counters. And I absolutely do NOT want to see someone splitting up Yuri and Victor in nonorganic ways just to keep some unnaturally stupid tension. Yuri on Ice was magical because it was made with love–every aspect of it–and every time the show surprised us, it was with how much more love was in the show than we’d ever imagined. But it is hard to manage that fine line between enough internal tension to move the story forward and that love that makes Yuri on Ice utterly magical.

When I heard details about the production, I could sense that love. They traveled to every venue, constructed the story around what was actually possible. The spirit of everywhere they went to pervades each scene. You can line up shots of where they were with anime scenes. The way they constructed characters, their skates, the music for their skates, how it all fits together to tell an overarching story about love in all its forms, something that is utterly compelling and yet lacks villains. Even details like putting the wedding rings on the right hand. This is storytelling at its very damned best, at every level, and I’m on my knees to it.

And you want them to do what they did in years for season 1 in a matter of months? It’s not possible. Not with the site visits. Not with needing to construct characters with respect and love. Not with commissioning music. Kubo was talking on Twitter today about visiting Mexico, and the idea of her taking Leo’s heritage as a Mexican American so seriously, and with such respect, in a time when Mexican-Americans are being absolutely vilified in this country, makes me almost weepy. That is what I want–that love, that respect for what they do.

The very, very worst thing that could happen to Yuri on Ice is for the second season to be made with money in mind rather than love. I would rather have no second season than to see someone push this show to become more “mainstream” (read: toning down the queerness, fuck that), or for them to not have the time to develop a story line that continues season 1 with the mastery and the love that made it so special.

The fact that they’re taking their time is the best thing I could have heard. We can get it fast or we can get it good. There’s plenty of media out there that comes out fast. There’s a reason this one was special. Everyone who wants something fast, well, there’s plenty of crap out there–feel free to be a fan of it.

Have a little patience, and trust the people who brought you this piece of genius, who have every financial incentive to take as much money as possible. If they say you’re not getting a season 2 this year, you better believe that it’s because they can’t do it well.

Two years may sound like an eternity, but a crappy season is the thing that actually lasts forever.

A MESSAGE FROM AVI
Hello everyone. If you haven’t yet watched the video then these words might come as a shock to you. If you have watched, know that this is exactly what I would have said in the video, if filming it wasn’t one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do. This morning, I announced that I will be taking a step back from PTX.
I’ve struggled with this decision a lot. It has been the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make in my life. Before I explain why, I want you all to know that the past 6 years have been the most unbelievable years of my life. The things we’ve accomplished, the places we’ve seen, the people we’ve touched with our music… It surpasses anything that I could have ever dreamed up for my life.
I believe one of the big reasons why we have been so successful and accomplished all that we have is because of the unbelievably fast pace that we keep. Throughout my journey with PTX, this pace has always been a struggle for me. It’s been hard for me not to be with my family and friends when I need them or when they need me. It’s been hard to not be able to escape into nature when I’m feeling overwhelmed or just need some time to myself.
Through all of this, I’ve done my best and I’ve kept pushing myself to keep up. Really, the reason why I’ve been able to push so hard and for so long has been because of you guys. You all have inspired me and lifted me up every single day and, for that, I am eternally grateful.
I do love you all so very much, but I’ve come to a point where I just can’t keep up anymore and I would never want to inhibit any type of success that we have because I truly do believe in everything that we’ve done and everything that they will do. I just know that I can no longer continue at this pace and so I have to do what’s best for the group and I have to do what’s best for me.
I do want you all to know that I’m still going to be doing music and I’m going to be doing it with my whole heart. I will ALWAYS do my best to lift others up with my voice. I hope that you’ll all support my decision and that you can understand where I’m coming from. And regardless of anything, I just want to thank you for all that you’ve given to me. I have been so unbelievably blessed and humbled to be a part of all your lives in any way and I wanted you to hear this from me. From my voice. And from my heart.
I love you all deeply and I thank you for everything. Truly.
And just so you know, I will still be performing at all of our announced shows, so come say hi and give me a hug. I love hugs.
Avi


I know the announcement is already going around tumblr but I thought I’d upload the video. Watching it made me realize how sad and sorry he is. And even though I’m upset about the news, I think I’m more worried about him. I’m seeing lots of support and love for him on the internet, and I hope he’ll see it. Hopefully his decision will allow him to take back control of his life, get some rest and focus on whatever he wants. Maybe he’ll finally ask Sara Bareilles out, who knows… I just want him to be happy. It’s going to be hard for the band and for us fans, but both Avi and Pentatonix will still be able to make good music and succeed; except now he’s going to be able to breathe and go at his own pace.
Also, give him a hug from me if you can! x

xNFx Friends


ENFJ:

  • Seems very chill and easygoing.
  • Is easygoing indeed, but camouflages stress very well.
  • Has a tendency to prioritize everyone that matters to him.
  • Can be very withdrawn when it comes to his feelings.
  • Stupid (yet funny) misunderstandings happen because he refuses to be “selfish” (meaning he refuses to tell what he thinks/feels).
  • Always creates a friendly atmosphere.
  • Has the most genuine smile.
  • Loyal™.
  • Has been in love with his best friend ever since they met.
  • Good student, is not really at the top of the class.
  • Every time he gets in trouble, it’s ENTP’s fault.
  • Healthy lack of ambition.
  • High emotional intelligence.
  • Has a very solid routine
  • assuming responsibilities has become one of his hobbies.
  • Bookworm. Loves novels.

Common phrases include:

–  “Let’s hear their version first”.
–  “Call me if you need anything”.
–  “It’s no bother”.
– “But what about my heart?” (As a response to INTP and ISTP telling him he should care less).

INFP:

  • Sees everything, understands everything, says little, does nothing.
  • Prefers to be unnoticed.
  • Incredibly intelligent.
  • But the lack of motivation is real (drives INTJ nuts “such a wasted talent”).
  • She secretly is the main nexus of the group since she’s adopted them all.
  • Sleep deprived™.
  • Has become one of ENFJ’s closest friends.
  • Can see the best and worst of everyone.
  • Soft and delicate (but don’t mess with her loved ones).
  • Has a very specific “yeah, we knew that” look with INFJ.

Common phrases include:

–  "You shouldn’t have said that" (whispered to ISTP’s blunt self).
–  "I’m never fixing others’ problems again" (fixes everyone’s problems).
–  "Are you sure that’s a good idea?“


INFJ:

  • His academical success in a specific subject depends like 40% on his interest and 60% on his opinion about the teacher.
  • Is not the best student.
  • Still has many generic skills (such as good analysis and writing) of useful application.
  • Spends his free time reading whenever he is not in small groups of friends.
  • Witty puns. 
  • Feels like he is always wasting his time.
  • He likes to pretend that nothing really affects him that much, but he cares very deeply.
  • Whenever in larger groups of people, he remains quiet and silently analyzes everyone.
  • A lot of smirks.
  • And a lot of dark humour.
  • He looks tough, but his skin is too thin for all his emotions.
  • Has a thirst for knowledge.
  • Normally keeps his conclusions for himself.
  • The result is that he knows much more than people are aware of.
  • He doesn’t look forward to being the center of attention, but he handles it quite smoothly.
  • ISTP and INTP find him very entertaining.

Common phrases include:

–  "Humans suck. And I’m human, so I suck, too”.
–  "Yeah… I already knew that".
–  "Oh, is that so, you *insert witty insult*“.
–  "Sorry, can’t talk now, I’m busy regretting all my decisions”.


ENFP:

  • Thinks rules are important but is constantly breaking them unconsciously.
  • Good friend™.
  • Says “I’m sorry” way too much.
  • Kind heart.
  • Smiles a lot.
  • Starts everything, ends nothing.
  • Has tried all extracurricular activities.
  • Says she’s not afraid of commitment and responsibility.
  • Can’t commit to an ice-cream flavour.
  • Very difficult to upset. Unless you mess up with her loved ones.

Common phrases include:

–  "But it’s so cute" (as a response ro ENTJ best friend telling her something is useless).
–  "Planning? I think I’ll pass".
–  "Oh, no… Oh, no" (every time she realises there was work to do).


Shared traits

  • Compassionate and caring beings.
  • Strong sense of others.
  • Solid moral base.
  • They care more than they would like to admit.
  • Might be to a higher (ENFJ and ENFP) or lower (INFJ and INFP) degree but they believe the world can actually work better.
  • Yes to deep meaningful conversations.
  • Self loath danger.
  • Need to feel in the mood in order to do something.
  • Easiest way to lose their trust forever: make them feel used and/or manipulated.

———–

IxxJ squad

xNTx squad

Red

I am FINALLY done with this. Hope you guys enjoy it, please let me know if you do, your comments are very much appreciated. Lots of love, B xx

Originally posted by hotsauceharry

Red.

It’s all he can see when he looks at you. It’s the color that paints your lips and it’s the only thing he’s been able to think about all night long.

When he picked you up earlier tonight, on your way to a dinner with a group of friends, his eyes had zoomed in on your lips the second you opened the car door to greet him - while you stepped inside and leaned in to say hello, placing a chaste and pert kiss on his cheek, his eyes followed your lips as you came closer.

“What color is that? Crimson? Bright red?” Is what he thinks, the shades of it swirling in his mind. He doesn’t know and he’s tempted to ask you but to do that was to show he’s been paying more attention to you than he’s got the right to and maybe it’d give you the wrong impression - he’s not interested in your lipstick but more on the way the color makes your lips look full and incredibly inviting.

Biting onto his bottom lip after greeting you quickly, his eyes fleet to his rear view mirror, spotting the patch of skin close to his jaw where you had placed your kiss - a lipstick mark remains, the shape of your lips stamped onto his skin in a bright shade of red.

The sight gave him goose bumps and he couldn’t explain why, but when you leaned forward on his front seat, the visor pulled down so you could look in the mirror and make sure your lipstick was not smudged, Harry felt his stomach sink - images of you on your knees, eyes hazy and lips swollen while you suck on his cock with greedy, swollen and red painted lips, leaving a stain on his length, invaded his mind without his permission and he feels his cock twitch in his pants, heat rising underneath his skin.

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Barn Mates - One Year On

Barn Mates was first aired exactly a year ago today… and what a monumental episode it was for both Lapis and Peridot!

For those of us who were already shipping Lapidot, it was a dream come true – and for some of those who weren’t, it opened their eyes to a whole new (and now completely canonically viable) ship.

I’ve written about this episode a few times in the past, but it feels fitting to look back on it again today; for day one of Lapidot Anniversary Week!

So, without further ado…

The episode opens with Peridot wistfully speaking into her tape recorder about sharing her new home with Lapis.  Only a couple of episodes prior to this point, Peridot had made the decision to stay at the barn by herself whilst the other Crystal Gems returned to the temple. The fact that she now so enthusiastically wants to share her home with Lapis (as opposed to going back with the other Gems or staying by herself in the barn) just shows that she already has some level of admiration for Lapis.

Peridot says:

“Why don’t we watch the sun come up and figure out what we’re going to do with all this time, eh Lazuli?”

Watching the sun rise with someone is an old romantic tradition/cliché, so the fact that Peridot specifically mentions wanting to do this with Lapis certainly speaks some volumes.   And it also transpires…

…that this line was foreshadowing a scene that came later in the show – in Room For Ruby, not only are they watching the sun rise together (just as Peridot wanted to do), they’ve actually been sat together all night stargazing prior to this point, which is another activity that has obvious romantic connotations.

After Peridot has finished speaking into the tape recorder in Barn Mates, Lapis expresses her desire to live in the barn all on her own. Steven suggests that the barn be split down the middle, with each of the two Gems having their own “side”, which leads to a very interesting shot of the pair of them:

Notice how they’re effectively framing a picture that’s behind them.   This picture is of the barn’s previous owners – Greg’s aunt and uncle, who Greg described back in Space Race as follows:

“My aunt and uncle had a great love for aviation, and each other.  They cherished the years they spent together, and they held on to every belonging they ever owned.”

It’s interesting, then, that a picture of a happy couple has been placed directly in-between Lapis and Peridot in this shot.  This becomes something of a trend as the show progresses, with the picture being placed in-shot with Peridot and Lapis on occasion in a fair few other episodes, such as these:

This could well be foreshadowing a romantic relationship between Lapis and Peridot.  The fact that Greg mentions “aviation” is also something interesting to think about, considering that Lapis can fly and Peridot was the pilot of the Hand Ship back in Jailbreak.

Lapis isn’t keen on the idea of splitting the barn, telling Steven that Peridot is the problem:

“I can’t stand the thought of looking at her everyday!”

This statement is now somewhat ironic because, in the episodes since Barn Mates, Lapis almost always has her eyes on Peridot – and gives her some extremely suggestive looks, too!

Peridot and Steven both try to assure Lapis that Peridot has changed, but she doesn’t want to hear it. Steven thinks it’s “sweet” that Peridot wants Lapis to see how much she’s changed since their last encounter, and he helps her to make an apology card which has a very interesting picture drawn on the front of it:

Steven may well have the intent of getting Peridot and Lapis to be friends, but he’s drawn them looking like an actual couple here; they’re even holding hands.

Eventually, after some persuasion from Steven, Lapis joins them – and a beaming Peridot hands over the card.  This still fails to win-over an unimpressed Lapis, much to Peridot’s disdain.

“It took me over an hour to compose [the message in the card], and I was the most sincere as per Steven’s instructions!”

The fact that Peridot put so much time into her apology message gives us an indication of how highly Peridot thinks of Lapis – and how much she wants to make her feel better. She then spends some time deliberating what she could give to Lapis as a gift (upon Steven’s suggestion), and they come up with an idea…

“H-2-Oh my GOSH!” … “It’s a gift for you!  You know, ‘cause water’s your thing.”

Peridot’s mannerisms and tone of voice here are very flirtatious.  However, given Lapis’ previous traumatic experience of being trapped on the bottom of the ocean, this is another idea that falls completely flat.

And what does Peridot do?

“A pool?!  What a cloddy idea!  Of course she wouldn’t like that!”

She actually blames herself for the mistake.  This is very uncharacteristic of Peridot, who normally has a very lofty opinion of herself and her intellectual capacity – which, again, shows how highly she must think of Lapis.  She even uses the word “cloddy” to describe her own idea; with “clod” being an insult that she usually only ever levels at other people when she’s at her most angry.

She then decides to make a very grand gesture…

…and offers her most prized possession – the tape recorder – to Lapis as a gift.

She’s very flirtatious in doing so here, as well.  With a wink and a smile, she tells Lapis:

“See, the ribbon is even blue.  I got yo’ number!”

Peridot has offended all of the other Gems at some point in the past, but she’s never been seen to perform as grand a gesture as this one in order to win them over. 

Peridot is, in a lot of ways, incredibly materialistic - she has been shown on more than one occasion to hold her very few possessions really closely to her.  By Peridot’s standards, handing the tape recorder over is essentially the biggest thing she could do for someone, which is a very clear indication of her feelings towards Lapis.

This gesture is completely lost on Lapis, however, who proceeds to crush the tape recorder in her hand.

Usually in these situations, Peridot would be distraught that one of her possessions had been destroyed (see, for example, Peridot on her knees begging Amethyst not to throw away her beloved tablet in Too Short To Ride).  However, this time, she actually seems to be upset by the fact that she’s managed to upset Lapis once again, exclaiming:

“What, were you trapped in a tape recorder too?!”

Peridot is exasperated by this point, and gives a very heartfelt speech which, I believe, really gets to the root of one of the key reasons why a relationship between Lapis and Peridot just makes perfect sense:

“Look, I get it, you know?  You’re confused!  You can never go back to Homeworld.  This place doesn’t exactly feel like home yet.  You’re alone, no one could possibly know what that feels like!  Oh wait, I do!  We’re the same, except…  you don’t have to be alone.”

She and Lapis are going through the exact same thing at basically the same time; namely, being stranded on earth with no way of returning to Homeworld.  There’s literally no-one else who they could bond with over this, except for each other – it’s a common ground that they share with each other and only each other.  It’s logical and sensible storytelling, therefore, to have these two characters stick together and share the experience with each other.  It puts them on equal ground, gives them both an acute understanding of each other, and enables them to both support one another as they adjust to life on earth.

At this point in Barn Mates, however, Lapis still isn’t having any of it.  Peridot, clearly at her wits end, asks what Lapis wants from her.  Lapis angrily tells Peridot that she wants her to leave… and that’s exactly what Peridot does.  She wants Lapis to be happy so much that she’s even willing to give up her home so that Lapis can live there instead.

As she walks away, Steven reprimands Lapis for treating Peridot so badly.  As he’s talking, Lapis folds her arms and shifts on the spot, her gaze meeting the crushed tape recorder on the floor.  Everything about her body language in this scene exudes guilt.  

Peridot comes screaming back towards them moments later, however – being pursued by a Roaming Eye that she’s convinced is after her.    

The trio flee from the ship, but eventually come face-to-face with it, which causes Peridot to cower behind Steven in fear.

However…

…Lapis steps forward, and glances back at a wide-eyed Peridot.

This scene is very important because it’s the first time we ever get to see that Lapis does actually care about Peridot, despite the pair of them getting off to a very turbulent start.  She steps up to defend the helpless Peridot from the Roaming Eye, and makes sure to specifically ask Peridot if she’s ok after the threat has been neutralised – proving that she didn’t only have Steven’s interests at heart when she took out the Roaming Eye.

What happens next needs no introduction…

Originally posted by geekylaugifs

Peridot has still, to this day, never looked at anyone else with such love.  The way that her hands are clasped to her chest makes it the typical “cartoon character looking at their love interest” pose.  That smile on her face is literally the biggest one that she’s ever given.  And Lapis’ deep blush, that she actually turns her head away from Peridot in an attempt to hide, is also a reaction from her that’s unique to this scene – and very much implies that the apparent feeling of attraction is mutual.  There appears to be some symbolism behind the sun coming out as Peridot smiles, too.  This could well be an indication that Lapis is warming up to Peridot and seeing her in a new light.  It also has a somewhat poetic quality to it, with the storm clouds (both literal and metaphorical) dissipating at this very moment.  

Originally posted by giffing-amethyst

Steven picks up on what’s going on, giggling to himself as he looks at Lapis.  It’s also very interesting that Peridot’s loving look is still lingering even after the camera angle has changed – this is no fleeting “micro expression”, it’s a very prolonged and deliberate look…

…which was the first of very, very many that the pair of them have since gone on to give each other (the above images being a small handful of examples).

All in all, Barn Mates was the start of a very beautiful relationship between these two Gems, which has well and truly endured throughout the past twelve months – and has gotten ever stronger with each episode that they’ve appeared in together.

Can Tumblr Just Stop

Listen up y’all! Because when it comes to this topic:

Originally posted by blackbeak

I have had it with people saying you can’t enjoy something that doesn’t ‘belong’ to your culture. Apparently you’re racist if you’re a white girl dressing up as Tiana for comic con. Or if you’re wanting to adapt a story from China into a blockbuster movie. Or if you’re trying to cook an ethnic meal even if you have no experience. Because according to Tumblr (and alarmingly a lot of colleges) it’s ‘culture appropriation’ to even be curious about another country. Seriously. I had to write a paper to explain that you can still enjoy Mexican food even if you’re not from Mexico. And people argued with me. My professor argued with me! They all claimed that if you enjoy food from other cultures that you were stealing from that culture! Really?

I see this kind of attitude all the time about media too. Like, people flip out when they see a black girl playing Eponine from Les Miserables. Or when a predominately white school is performing The Wiz. People just jump into blind hate and claim that these performers are racists… but most of the time these performers are doing a role or a show because they love it. Because they connect with it in some way. 

Here’s a quote we all need to read:

“You don’t need to be the same ethnicity as the story you’re watching in order to identify with it. If the story is told well. It [a good story] is about relating to people that you may not necessarily think you’re going to relate to in the beginning, but by the end you’re going ‘That’s me.’ ”

You know who said that?

Lin-Manuel Miranda

AKA:

The guy who wrote In The Heights and Hamilton, which did WONDERS in including people of all different ethnicities in mainstream musicals. AND in the interview he said that he was inspired from when he saw Fiddler on the Roof when he was six years old. Even though he was Puerto Rican and the show was about Jews and Russia- he related to the story about the sacrifices you make for your family. Because that’s something that everyone can relate to.

In other words, a good story can speak to anyone regardless of culture and that’s okay!

It’s okay for a Japanese cast to perform In The Heights. It’s okay for an African American to play Éponine in Les Miserables. It’s okay for people to adapt a J-Pop song into English. And it’s okay for a predominately white school to perform Hamilton or The Wiz.

If people are doing something because they genuinely love it, then there is nothing wrong with that. And this applies to everything!!!

If you’re a white girl wanting to wear dreads in your hair because you think it looks cool- GO FOR IT! If you’re a Korean man who loves listening to Latin music- GREAT! If you’re an Irish kid obsessed with learning Japanese- AWESOME! If you’re British and want to try out for Hamilton- NICE! If you’re an African American who jams out to K-Dramas- SWEET! If you’re an American who has moved to South Africa because you want to learn more about local tribes- THAT’S SO COOL!

Look:

People shouldn’t be guilt tripped into staying in their own cultural norms. I hate it when people say “you can’t enjoy this thing because it belongs to another culture.”

Doesn’t that sound a bit racist? Scratch that. IT SOUNDS A LOT RACIST!

Yo, I can kinda see where the anger comes from. I know there are people who claim to know a lot about a different culture… when they obviously don’t by their actions or mistreatment to those who actually belong to that culture. But there is a HUGE difference between those who are being “entitled” and those who just haven’t learned enough yet. Learning about a different culture takes time! Man, it takes several years just to learn a different language. Much more to learn about social norms and values. 

And if they get a few things wrong… for crying out loud, show some mercy! No one is perfect. Stop with the “all or nothing” mentality. Show some compassion for those who genuinely want to know more about your amazing heritage/culture. 

Because most of the time these people are trying their best to learn! In fact, 99% of the time, they’re self conscious because they know they are an outsider to your thing. But you can teach them. Share your culture. Let it thrive! Give people a chance! If you treat outsiders harshly for learning and enjoying your culture, then you’re harming your own representation. 

THIS KID IS OUT!

hugealienpie  asked:

I see prompts are open yay! Please tell me all about Ford finding out about Bitty and Jack.

Ooh, this is interesting, because I don’t feel like it’d be an announcement, but just something Ford finds out when Jack visits or the like. I mean, it could go the other way, like Lardo could be, “heads up, Bitty’s dating our ex-captain” and Ford would be like, “okay? why are you telling me?” (She’s a theatre background, what is a Bad Bob to her?) I think she’d be pretty chill with it, and coming from theatre, like being gay is not an issue, esp in college (and even at the professional level) and esp if we go with the oft reblogged “Ford is gay” headcanon.

But here is a small fic that is only half based on the above…

Ford double checks the dozens of pages Lardo has given her for the upcoming roadie. She thought dealing with dressing room allocation was hard (and it is, one hundred percent) but figuring out room allocations is somehow worse, particularly when she’s new, and hockey players are more superstitious than the girl who played Johanna in Sweeney.

“So, who was it I’m meant to pair Oliver with?” Ford asks, grabbing for the red pen she’d stuck into her bun earlier. She comes out with a green one. It’ll do.

“Wicks. But really, he’d be fine with any of the guys in his year.”

Ford makes a note on one of the pages. “Okay, then I think I’m–Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” Lardo looks up from her sketchbook.

Ford double checks through all her sheets before she says anything. She’s not worrying, because there’s no time for that, she’s just already hating the amount of extra work she’ll need to do to fix things.

“I’ve left Eric, um, Bitty,” Ford corrects herself, still getting used to hockey nicknames, “off the rooming list.”

“Oh, that. Nah, you’re good.” Lardo goes back to her drawing. “He stays with his boyfriend when we’re playing up there.”

“Boyfriend?” Ford double-checks.

“Yeah. He’s in Providence. And he’ll drive Bitty to the games and practices and stuff. Should’ve emailed you that. My bad.”

“That’s fine.” Ford grabs another pen from her hair, forgetting she already has one in front of her. It’s red this time. “Just thought I was going to have to redo an entire afternoon’s worth of work.”

“Right,” Lardo says. “I can see why the minor freak out.”

“Excuse you, I did not freak out.” It’s half a lie. Ford has so many notes on these sheets, but she’s not freaking out, she’s managing. It’s all part of it.

Lardo looks up and smiles at her. “Knew you’d be fine at this.”

Ford takes the compliment with a gracious nod, and goes back to ticking off the rooming list against the team names. All accept Eric.

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Aisles [M]

Aisle Two

Summary: Jungkook was your best friend. You held onto his secrets. And he knew all of yours. Except for one. One that would change your friendship forever. You were in love with him.

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook

Genre: bestfriend!au, college!au, angst, smut

Word Count: 6,772

Originally posted by sugutie

Aisle One Aisle Two

Your apartment was like a ghost town. The emptiness echoed every time you stepped foot in the sad space. His shoes were missing by the front door. Your keys were never on the side table. There was evidence that people lived there. Ramen packets in the trash. Used coffee cups on the sink. But no one had really been around for two weeks.

Two weeks. This was the longest you had gone without speaking to Hoseok, yet alone seeing him. The fight at Yoongi’s was the worst you ever had. His sharp tongue dug wounds that even stitches couldn’t heal. He had been keeping himself occupied at Yoongi’s or the dance studio. Your heart sank into your chest anytime you came home and heard the washing machine running, only to find that the person who was wearing them was nowhere to be found.

A small part of you enjoyed the quiet. You were able to spread all your materials out on the coffee table. Bags of chips and half empty iced lattes were littered in between stacks of highlighted notes. He wasn’t there to yell at you when you fell asleep face first on your microbiology homework, the lines of the pages leaving imprints on your cheeks.

You did miss him. The two of you had been friends for years. But this time it was not your turn to say sorry. If Hoseok wanted things to go back to normal, he would have to swallow his large amount of pride and apologize.

But you had never heard Hoseok apologize in his life. 

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Imagine

Here’s my meta about the last clip of episode 5.

  • Our intro shot of the karaoke bar introduces our players. I’m especially interested in how we see Mari and Sara twice each (and sharing one shot).
  • May I just say: I am glad my son Eskild is alive and Extra.
  • We have Chris talking to Sara (we don’t see Sara’s face but it’s her jumper) 👀
  • In general we have a big focus on couples (including Evak) and russebussen people. Showing, again, this season’s themes (love and identities/belongings).
  • We have some Chris and Eva talking about wiring money, which seems like foreshadowing to the russebuss contract and payment.
  • Even is about to sing and no one ships Evak more than Magnus.
  • @newlevelofdesperate​ wrote a great meta about Even singing “Imagine” by John Lennon. I agree with most of it.
    I’ll just add that the song is ironic, just like “I’m Not In Love” in s3e5. “Imagine all the people living life in peace.” Sana is feeling the song at the moment. She feels that everything came together, finally. But it’s not true. She wished she could create world peace (if you gave her the power to do so she would, she really would). But she can’t. Some things are beyond her reach and she still hasn’t managed to reconcile her two identities (Norwegian & Muslim).
    Also, I think the song is as much an Even song as a Sana one. Once again.
  • We barely see Mikael walk in, and Elias and the gang look around. Yousef seems to be looking in the crowd for Sana. 
  • No shot of the squad until we get a shot of Even seeing them. Then Magnus and Jonas turn to see where Even is looking (not Isak or Mahdi) and we get another shot of balloon squad: no Mikael. Adam and Mutta seem unconcerned. Elias though sees Even and is not smiling (but he’s not looking mad either).
    He grabs Yousef who was smiling towards Sana and…the smile falters.

[this is getting long so I’m adding a “read more”]

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anonymous asked:

Hey Viria, sorry to bother you but this is something I really need to talk about with someone and your blog has always been a safe space to me. I'm turning 20 this year and I've never been in love, nor have I had a boyfriend/girlfriend before. I don't know, if I'm too picky or if my standards are to high, but I never felt something like a crush before. I don't know if it's normal but I really just want to feel having butterflies in my tummy. I don't know what to do or what is wrong with me.

there’s nothing wrong with you, please don’t think this way! 

There are few things I can offer about this:

- don’t feel alone if the insecurity you feel is connected to the age, you aren’t alone, there are so many young people in their twenties who hasn’t been in relationship before. Even for me, even though I had minor school crushes, I only had one relationship and it wasn’t serious and I now know it wasn’t love. So for me it happened when I turned 22.

- it might be that you feel the red flags about people and haven’t met someone you connect to yet. I know a few people who are close to their 20s but haven’t had crushes before, it’s normal too, we all are different.

- movies always make us feel like we have to be in love to be complete, because EVERY teenager is in love in the movies. They show the morally high educated girls and say they always have to be in love to be good. Don’t be too pressured by the movies; they aren’t real life.

- as for butterflies: they aren’t always good. I mentioned minor crushes I had: I used to have all the knees buckling, heartbeating too fast, and I have to say that it wasn’t the healthiest. With as much as I had of physical stuff happening, I could never even talk to that person. So..not feeling the butterflies, but feeling warm and cosy and content and just, very secure, is what I think matters more. Deep connection matters more. Attraction is important too, of course, but the physical stuff fades over time, bonding stays.

- THE LAST BUT NOT LEAST. Try looking up aromantiсism, asexuality, demisexuality. I am not the most educated person with this; but there are people who don’t feel romantic or sexual attraction towards others. There are people who need to really spiritually and mentally bond with someone to start being attracted to them. You might be aromantic or asexual or demisexual!

Hope it helps at least a bit, remember you aren’t alone and there are always people who feel the way you do! You will have it all figured out soon, don’t worry<3

Forget me not

It’s been about a year since my last Miraculous Ladybug fanfic list. Given the fandom is three years old and season 2 is right around the corner (hopefully), I believe it’s time to relive and explore some of the best fanfics the fandom has to offer. By no means is this list comprehensive. Many fics aren’t on here. (I’m working on a list for newer fics, so stay tuned!)

Rainy Days by @thelastpilot (Not rated)
A storm rolls through Paris and refuses to let up, so when a water fearing cat is rescued by the kind efforts of his designing classmate he starts to pay a little closer attention to someone he should have always known better.

he’s not a siren by @miraculousturtle (Rated T)
Merman AU. Their meeting is orchestrated by fate, conducting them one at a time to step on the stage. With the flick of the baton, in time, they will sing the same song, but only if they aren’t swept away by the ocean’s mighty waves.

An Unexpected Surprise by @sweetprincessluck (Rated M)
Adrien Agreste. Age 26. A successful international supermodel, currently changing careers to a CEO of a fashion empire. Was born and raised in Paris, had moved to the USA 6 years ago, came back for a visit. Kind, handsome, lonely. Had experienced a lot, had seen even more. Had nothing left that could surprise him anymore.Except, maybe, this - a small, blonde girl, with emerald eyes and freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose – a splitting image of his mother Lillian Agreste, excluding, perhaps, the freckles.Her name was Emma. Emma Dupain-Cheng, to be exact.

Obsession by @kryallaorchid (Rated T)
Miraculous has unintended side effects. A chance encounter leaves Chat Noir in Marinette’s magic hands. Scritch and scratch, this kitty has needs. MariChat. 

Smoulder by @midnightstarlightwrites (Rated T)
In which Adrien loses a bet and becomes an underwear model, Marinette loses her mind, and the whole fiasco starts a fire which might lead to the pair discovering their identities.

Retrouvailles by @gigiree (Rated G)
There’s an art to telling stories. There’s an art to ending them. Just know that saying “the end” is just another way of saying it’s a new beginning. When she says goodbye, her luck is gone. His has just begun.Tattoo and Flowershop AU!

Over the Wall by @imthepunchlord (Rated G)
The accident, while unintentional, was costly. For her wrong doings against Chloe, Marinette is sent over the wall to die. But instead of death, she winds up in a strange, unnerving world. Good thing she’ll have a cat to watch her back in this bizarre place.

Chasing the C/h/atwalk by @runningoutofink (Rated T)
Paris. The city of lights, love and fashion. Follow the progress of Marinette Dupain Cheng as she enters the extremely competitive world of Reality television for a chance to be the winner of Project Runway: France.

Lucky Us by @geek-fashionista (Rated T)
-AU- Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s life isn’t going as planned: twenty-six, recently dumped, and running her parents’ bakery. The highlights of her day are the emails sent by her mysterious pen pal, Chat Noir. That is, until handsome model Adrien Agreste starts swinging by the bakery after hours. But how is he to know the Ladybug he loves is standing right in front of him?

Guardians by @wintermoth (Rated T)
In the year 2015, Marinette Dupain-Cheng said yes to Tikki, the kwami of Creation. Two days later, Adrien Agreste said yes to Plagg, the kwami of Destruction.For the first time in over a thousand years, the cat and the bug were starting fresh. (immortal AU)

Découvrir by @xiueryn (Rated M)
A decade apart and he still remembered her. Marinette contacts her childhood friend in hopes of rekindling their forgotten relationship despite him being a celebrity, only to assume him to be someone else entirely. AU.

Bare Necessities by @reyxa (Rated M)
Art School AU where Adrien is the nude model in Marinette’s human figure class. Major sin warning but it’s more awkward than sexy. Definitely not for little ears… or eyes I guess…

Serendipitous Fate by @skaylanphear (Rated M)
Adrien is excited to reveal his true identity, while Marinette is terrified. But Master Fu says they can’t afford to be distant any longer. Chat Noir and Ladybug are meant to work in tandem both in and out of uniform, their strength stemming from the bond created between them. Yet, teenagers are sometimes better at dancing blind than running with wide open eyes, even with the steps laid out before them.Steps in the path of an expanding world. Apart, they’ll flounder. But together, they might just stand a chance.

Tikki’s New Friend by @panda013 (Rated G)
The dog was easily the height of his chest, and the young woman walking it could have only come up to his shoulder. But she was just cheerfully walking along beside the dog, chatting and laughing happily with a redheaded young woman. The dog was a big black beast—he didn’t know the breed then, nor did he particularly care, but it whined pitifully when its equally dark-haired owner paused to read a street sign. She just giggled and reached out a hand to ruffle its fur, and the giant’s tail wagged happily.

heartstrings by @zenwisterias (Rated T)
one of marinette’s rare unlucky days turns into something treacherous. thanks to a certain cat, the real danger passes, but there are other things to be more afraid of. her heart, for example, might be one of them.

The Ladybugs and the Bees by @bullysquadess (Rated M)
This originally started as a fanfic about periods and just devolved into crack.

You Don’t Know Me by @ferisae (Rated T)
When Ladybug suffers a near-fatal accident and is presumed dead, it is up to Adrien - who has discovered Ladybug’s secret - to help her through her painstaking recovery and reacquaint her with herself. All this while trying to save Paris on his own without losing himself in the process.

Satisfaction Brought It Back by @siderealsandman (Rated E)
Most people rekindled friendships with people from high school over Facebook or Twitter. Most people met for coffee, shared pictures of their bratty children, and sent old friends Christmas letters once a year. Marinette was clearly not most people as she had somehow hooked up with her former high school crush on a bondage dating website and didn’t know it until he was standing in front of her with an identical look of bemused embarrassment plastered all over his pretty face.

A Werecat in London by @i-am-thornqueen (Rated M)
After an unfortunate encounter with an akuma while in London on a business trip, Chat Noir is forced to deal with the unexpected consequences. Can Ladybug help him return to his normal self, or will he be stuck for the rest of his life getting in touch with his wild side?

tangled ribbons by @demistories (Rated G)
Marinette is a small studio dancer who wins a scholarship to a summer long ballet intensive. Adrien is a famous ballet dancer who would rather be at home than at said intensive. The end of the summer will bring about a showcase that could make Marinette’s career, if she can ignore Chloé and focus on something other than Adrien.

The Space Between Us by @chassecroise (Rated T)
What’s a ladybug to do when her kitten becomes a cat?

Accident of the Evening by @thatwriterchickrachel (Rated T)
Adrien Agreste, rumoured royalty, just wants a normal life. But one night on the run he meets Marinette, a normal girl, with a normal life. Marinette can’t believe it. Her long-time celebrity crush had crashed into her life and was now hanging out with her and her friends in between his busy schedule.With the Annual Parisian Masquerade Ball approaching, and an announcement sure to change everything looming over them, the two young adults begin a friendship and a double life.

Emergence by @artisticflutter (Rated M)
They were only teenagers, but they are no more. Forced to awaken to new powers, both find themselves codependent on the other in order to survive and escape from their captors. They are Ladybug and Chat Noir - they are Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste. Part One of a possible series.

The Lights that Lead Us Home by @oceanspray5 (Rated G)
Based on @piku-chan’s Cinderella AU on Tumblr. Marinette remains at the Palace to train as a noble and Adrien takes on more responsibilities as King. The wedding is planned for the Prince and his Princess and despite any outside meddling forces, goes off without a hitch.

Le Chat Noir by ParadiseAvenger (Rated E)
Le Chat Noir was the most popular strip club in Paris. Marinette could explain how she wound up there the first time, but she couldn’t explain how she kept coming back.

The Wingman Visits by @niuniente (Rated M)
When Chat Noir finds out Ladybug’s real identity as Marinette, he also discovers her huge crush for Adrien. As a gentleman he is Chat Noir offers to be a wingman between Marinette and Adrien, trying to get them together.

Sealed away by @ashesandhoney (Rated T)
Five years ago, Ladybug left Paris and left Chat Noir to learn how to keep it together on his own.Marinette is back in Paris with an internship at the Agreste Fashion house trying to get the spring show up and running and as much as Adrien appreciates having a friend at work, he’s distracted by Ladybug’s return and more Akuma attacks than either of them have faced before.Something big is coming and nothing can stay sealed away forever.

Cut from the Same Cloth by @baneismydragon (Rated T)
When Gabriel notices that Adrien is collecting various supplies from his office, he assumes that his son has finally decided to show an interest in the family business. However when he tries to show his support by showing up at a school presentation, things quickly spiral out of control and everyone learns more than they bargained for

Désolé by @pozolegirl (Rated G)
‘The Cat’s out of the Bag’ as Adrien would say, and now Marinette and Adrien must work through their emotions during this new reveal of identities, all while Hawkmoth is hot on their trail and not about to let them slip away from him, taking matters into his own hands.

Sing the Song of Sailing Sirens by @princessofharte (Rated T)
Adrien Agreste is the Pirate Lord of the High Seas, chasing a British flagship until Le Chat Noir is blown off course into a green storm.

This is not a complete list of the best fics in the fandom. Many of these authors have written multiple fanfics for this fandom and they are all amazing. Indeed, many of the fics on AO3 with the most hits, the most kudos, and the most comments were other fics not mentioned here but completed by many of these authors. Every work of fanfiction is amazing. If you want to help encourage writers to write more awesome fanfiction, please leave a comment on their works. It can be as short as “This is great!” Seriously. We live off validation.

It’s not narcissism if I add in my own fic here, right?

Was there anything I missed? Leave it in the reblogs and spread the word so that others–including myself–can read it!

A Lesson in Love (Confessions)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,178

A/N: The tag list for this story is officially CLOSED. Also, this is not the end of story.

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - The messages you sent me after editing this part let me know that I had successfully tugged on all of the right heartstrings, so thank you for that.

Originally posted by ditchthevillian

Whenever an uncomplicated task arises, people say it’s as easy to accomplish as breathing. The adage always made perfect sense to you whenever you heard it. Breathing is second nature. It can be done without having to think twice and, sometimes, it feels like certain tasks are the same way.

Today, that’s not the case. Standing here across from Bucky for the first time in weeks, you find that breathing is anything but easy. The air was knocked out of your lungs as soon as you stumbled upon the note he wrote on the canvas and you haven’t yet recovered. You have to keep reminding yourself to breathe, just breathe. But it’s hard. How are you supposed to remember to inhale and exhale in a moment like this?

“Are you going to say something?” You press, once the silence of the room becomes too unbearable. Your fingers curl tightly around the canvas as you wait for Bucky to speak. “Anything?”

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Wrong

Originally posted by lumos025

Summary: Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung bullied you in high school and by some sick joke the universe was playing on you, 2 years later Jungkook was attending the same University as you. Even sicker joke was being stuck with him doing a project on ‘Sex in Cinema’ for a whole semester. Go figure.

Words: 8083

Warnings: Smut, a lot of dirty talk holy shit (I can’t help it), oral, masturbation, overstimulation.

2 years earlier:

You walked down the road, almost around midnight, trying to get home as fast as possible the chilly rainy weather. Not to mention the truck that was trailing behind you and the screams and shouts of “wait up thunder thighs!” and “stop running away like a little bitch!” coming from the 3 boys who occupied it. Wrapping your arms around yourself to feel just an ounce of warmth, you willed yourself to ignore these bastards and walk faster. ‘I’m almost home, I’m almost home’ repeating it like a mantra in your head. Really, it was a stupid idea to think that you could enjoy a last high school party with your friends who were the complete opposite of you. After all, when the three most popular boys of the school were determined to make your life a living hell, why would anyone else want to treat you different in this extremely cliché scenario. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly was it about you that made them hate you so much.

From the time that you can remember, and you remembered a lot, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook had always despised you. It’s like they couldn’t stand your existence. When you would be at the library helping out by staying late, they would wait after school, yes they would go out of their way to stay at school longer, to make sure that your walk home was as stressful as possible. Making fun of pretty much anything and everything you did was a normal occurrence. You had just learned to live with it, but not today.

You suddenly started to slow your pace. They are cowards, you thought. What can they possibly do? Always taunting, always calling names, always making you feel shit about anything you took interest in. But they were all talk right? You thought, huffing out. People like them walk in groups because they can’t actually do anything alone. You don’t know what came over you, but you suddenly stopped and turned around slowly. The truck that the boys were trailing behind you also slowed and stopped a few meters away.

The one driving was Jimin, while Taehyung sat beside him and Jungkook stood, head poking out of the truck’s opening in the ceiling. You stood defiantly, shaking from the growing rain, your hair soaked and hands tightly by your side. Silently daring them to charge the truck towards you. ‘They won’t do it, they’re cowards’ you thought, your confidence growing slowly. You couldn’t tell where this adrenaline rush had come from to give you such courage to finally stand your ground, just a few weeks away from graduation. You could see Taehyung’s cunning, and terrifyingly psychotic grin widening as he relentlessly whispered in Jimin’s ear, whose grip on the wheel was tightening as he looked you right in the eyes. Jungkook was laughing. He apparently found the situation so amusing, that you decided now to grow a spine and challenge them. Suddenly, the sound of the engine revving was as loud as the rain.

It all went pretty much downhill from there. The last thing you remembered was your too loud heartbeat, the bright flash from the truck and Jungkook’s face suddenly forming a horrified expression as if he wasn’t just laughing at you.

Present day:

You weren’t looking for him specifically among the crowd flooding into the lecture hall. But something did happen inside you when you spotted him. A kind of lightness, or a lifting of some heavy part of yourself. Everything was settling into a nice, normal routine. You were going about your daily lives in an ordinary manner, and you were doing it completely separately.

He sat in the fourth row, and you sat at the back. Only now there was no rising sense of dread. You didn’t keep your hand to yourself when the lecturer asked a question. You answered, without the background sound of someone snickering. And even when it felt as though he was looking at you, when you snuck a glance at him you only ever saw the back of his head.

He bent low over his notes, and his head occasionally lifted a little as he really listened to whatever the lecturer was saying. Once or twice you actually caught him nodding, or doing a little staggered-looking half laugh over some ridiculous concept. As if he loved it all now.

He loved it so much he was sometimes at the lectures early. You would come in with Y/B/F, still giggling over something ridiculous, and get the faint prickle that told you he was already there. Only now when it happened it didn’t make you want to cover herself up, or run and hide. There was nothing to hide from. Everything was going to be super cool and totally fine from here on in. Or it would have been, if it were not for the group project. The one that you were so excited for that you didn’t process it when your lecturer started reading out the names. You would be working with Y/B/F—that was a given. They were going to watch ridiculously filthy movies together and laugh about bobbing butts and ogle Ewan McGregor’s penis.

And then you heard his name.

Followed by yours.

Distantly, like in a dream of being in class.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you have a problem with that assignment?”

Everyone was looking at you now. No—not just looking. Examining, as though You had become a new and baffling species. The girl who was not excited about being carried by Jungkook. The creature who seemed horrified at the prospect of working with him. It made it difficult to do anything at all, even with Y/B/F urging you to say yes, yes I do have a fucking problem. Though You still didn’t expect the shake of you head to happen. Just one little accidental shake of you head and that was it. Your lecturer moved on to his next victim, leaving you in something You once had a nightmare about in ninth grade. Working with Jungkook. On a semester-long project.

About sex in cinema.

“Don’t worry, we can fix this. Just go to his office and talk to him privately about it. He would have to be Satan himself to not understand,” You heard Y/B/F whisper. But the words seemed even further away than you name had when your lecturer read it out.

“Right. Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

“I can come with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been punched. In the face. With a small nuclear blast.”

“I’m sure,” You said, but soon came to regret that firmness in your voice. The steady nod that told Y/B/F it was okay for you to go in a different direction once you were outside. It only meant that You were on your own when you got to the tiny hallway outside your lecturer’s door.

And saw that Jungkook was already waiting. Of course he was—he probably had the same concerns as you. No matter how sorry he was or what he thought of being in the red and being wrong, he would never want to work in close quarters with you for the entire semester. In fact, him being sorry likely made the situation seem worse to him. Most likely he had calculated all the awkward conversations you guys would have to have and how far apart he would have to stand to keep you comfortable, and found it as unbearable as you did.

Even though his expression seemed to say something else.

Oh god. His expression was saying something else.

Then he held up his hands, as though to calm you.

And you knew.

“All right, Y/N, I know that you’re probably thinking it’s way better if you do this project with that gal pal of yours, but wait, okay? I got reasons why this is gonna be fine.”

“Is that seriously why you’re here? To stop me asking to switch us?”

“Well…no. Not stop you exactly. Stop is a really strong word.”

“While I’m glad you’ve learned that—” You said, your voice briefly catching when you saw his wince. He winced, your mind hissed, before you forced yourself to finish. “I still think it covers what’s happening here.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about it for a second. Just, like, hear me out.”

“I want to. I really do. But come on. You know I wasn’t born yesterday. This has all the hallmarks of some kind of trap or prank or joke at my expense.”

“How could it possibly be a trap or prank? He put people together based on…I don’t even know what he put people together based on. But it couldn’t have had anything to do with me.”

You searched his face, looking for the lie. Waiting for him to show some hint of bullshit, beneath those too-kind eyes and his spread hands and the obvious logic of what he was saying.

Only there was nothing, nothing, nothing.

And it made no difference at all.

“Okay, I buy that. I do. Yet the fact still remains: I cannot do a project with you. Ever. You have to know that doing anything like that is completely impossible for me. Right?”

“I was just thinking that maybe…maybe you could give it a chance. You know, now that we’re on speaking terms and everything is almost cool between us.”

“You think everything is cool between us?”

“Well, maybe not cool exactly. More like…okay.”

“Still need to dial it back a notch, chief.”

“Reasonable? Not bad? Kind of semi decent?”

“That last one is getting close.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.

Relenting, you thought. He’s actually relenting.

“Fine, we are a fucking disaster.”

“Now you’re getting the idea,” You said.

“But I figure we can work on it.”

“By doing a project on sex in the cinema together?”

“Well,” he said. “When you put it like that it sounds dumb.”

“There’s no other way to put it! That is literally what you’re suggesting.”

“Yeah, I get that. I just…want to not get that. I want it to be easier or better or just not the way this is.”

“That could have been my daily prayer in high school, Jungkook.”

He didn’t react the way You expected to, with more weird arguing.

He just closed his eyes.

He closed them like someone had just told him his family had been in a fatal accident.

“I wish I could go back and start over again. More than wish—I would give everything I have to start over again. The wrestling, this scholarship, every party I ever went to and every fun thing I ever did. And you can choose to not believe me about that, but—”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I’m as surprised as you are, but yeah.”

“Then why does this have to be such a big deal?”

You thought of Y/B/F saying attempted murder.

“Y/N that is fucking attempted murder. Babe, you don’t have to feel bad about anything you put him through now. His friends and him included, ran you over with a fucking truck. How much physio and other therapy sessions did you have to go through because of them, huh?”

The terror that used to flood you when he walked down the hall.

That ever-present sensation of a grille barrelling into your body.

“Because understanding that someone is truly sorry and wanting to spend huge amounts of time with them are two different things. I might see that you mean this, and know rationally that I can almost sort of trust you. Maybe I even want it to be that easy, too. But your face is the one I had nightmares about for two years. Your smile doesn’t seem happy to me. I associate it with cruelty.”

You shook your head. Glanced away from him so you didn’t have to see the defeated look on his face.

“It’s hard for me to look at you, Jungkook, no matter how much I appreciate what you’ve done here.”

“That was a really well-thought-out and logically sound speech.”

“I know it was. I’m pretty proud.”

“And I have no argument against it.”

“You don’t need one. What you’ve done here…” You gritted your teeth hard and looked at the ceiling. But this time it didn’t stop the tears. They were already welling up by the time You explained the rest to him.

“It means a lot. And a million men would never have done the same, I can promise you. I don’t have any messages from Jimin on my phone. Taehyung isn’t going to call anytime soon. It’s just you, a rare fantasy in the middle of all this dismal reality.”

He turned around when you were done. All the way around—and then his arms went up to cover his head and you understood. What you said had affected him, strongly. Maybe more than his words had affected you. It took him twice as long to get it together, and even after he had he couldn’t quite look at you. He just kept staring at the wall and clenching his jaw.

And saying things. Oh yeah, he said things, in a strained, shaky voice.

“I meant what I said, you know. That you are the very best.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to ask you not to say it again.”

“I can’t stop. I have the opposite of whatever idiocy infected me in high school.”

“What, like insane-need-to-compliment fever?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said.

“Well it has taken a raging hold of you, let me tell you.”

“I know it seriously cannot be stopped.”

“I think you have a terminal case.”

“Not a bad way to go, if you ask me,” he said, so soft and sincere it took all your strength to stop yourself smiling in response. You could feel your lips trembling. Your cheeks ached with the effort of pinning them down, yet still You knew you were failing. You could see it in his satisfied expression.

And hear it in his words.

“That’s better. Seeing you look happy.”

“I am happy,” You said, then added without thinking: “Are you?”

Of course you didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a polite habit, based on interactions with people other than Jungkook. People who had actual problems, who lived troubled lives, who might answer with a god no. Jungkook would never need to answer with a god no. His life was full of endless possibilities and unfettered glory. He could snap his fingers and have a thousand people follow him to the ends of the earth.

He even looked that way, in the dim light of the narrow hallway between these offices.His hair was the colour of dark chocolate. Every item of clothing suited him perfectly, from the rich grey-blue of his V-neck to the jeans he’d tucked into his timberlands. He exuded cool from every pore; he could have stepped off the cover of a magazine.Yet all you could see was his face as it slowly sagged. It was like watching someone cut the strings that had held a mask in place—a mask you hadn’t known he was wearing. You thought that smiling golden god who had tormented you was the real him, but for a second you couldn’t be sure. Just for one heart-rattling second, and then the door to the office opened and that glimpse of something else was gone—so fast You would imagine later that it had never existed. It was just a trick of the light.

Better to focus on the real and the now.

“What can I do for you two today?” Professor asked.

Then you took a breath and answered.

“Nothing,” You said.

A few weeks later:

After that day, you didn’t know how or why you suddenly decided to give working with him a try, but so far, it was going…. okay. You two met up at the library, took your notes, glancing at each other once in a while, mostly Jungkook, asking each other questions relevant to their awkward topic given the situation and that was that. He made jokes sometimes that managed to get out a few carefree laughs out of you as well. It was all… comfortable. Nothing that you had expected. That is why, you decided, it was time to move on to watching actual movies for references, in your project.

It was nearly one in the morning, on a Wednesday night when you went to get him as your friend was out and that was the only time Jungkook was free after wrestling practice. Everyone was in bed, and it gave an eerie feeling to your journey back to your dorm.

As did his silence.

He was always talking—You realized that then. Sometimes he practically kept up a running commentary on everything and anything, yet here he was as quiet as stone. And it wasn’t because he was exerting himself. He didn’t breathe hard once the whole time. He could have been carrying a backpack full of air. But the idea of mental trouble lingered. When you tilted your head a little, you could practically hear his mind going over and over things, in a way that just wasn’t like him. He was easy-going. Happy-go-lucky. He never worried about things the way you did.

Until now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem a little…”

Like an ominous statue of yourself.

“I was just thinking what movie we should watch.”

“Oh. Oh. You mean…right now?” You asked.

“Well, that’s what you came to get me for.”

“That’s true, I did come and get you for that.”

“Unless you don’t want me in your room so late.”

“No, no why would I…no, that’s cool.”

“You’re in the Jubilee Building, right?”

You had the strongest urge to ask him how he knew. But that seemed just as weird as objecting to him being in your room.

“Yeah. You just go past the science block and then—”

“Right, right, right I got it, I got it. The statue of Heo Nanseolheon is outside it, yeah?”

“That’s the one. Then it’s the third floor. Don’t worry though, there’s an elevator.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Do you wanna let me unlock the door?” you asked standing behind him when you both reached your dorm.

“Oh shit, yeah. Yeah, go ahead,” he said moving his bulky body out of the way as you slid past him to unlock the door. Everything had returned to the way it should be now between you and Jungkook.

Except for the sexy movie you were now going to watch.

Alone. Together. On your bed. In the middle of the night.

You let him pick the movie, thinking that would make things easier somehow. Nothing could be misconstrued, at least, that way. He wouldn’t think you meant anything by your choice, whatever it might be. But you forgot that he might mean something with his choice. You watched the heroine trying to clumsily pick up the hero at the start of White Palace, and cringed so hard it felt more like a cramp in your gut. Your cheeks grew hot, in a way that made you grateful for the dim light of your feeble bedside lamp.

Otherwise he would see you face go red and know you understood his point—despite the fact that his point was fucking nonsense.

“This is even less realistic than Dirty Dancing.”

“Really? You think so? Like, in what way?” You asked.

“It just seems like she keeps pushing and pushing. No woman would push a guy that good-looking if he didn’t seem into it. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing.”

You didn’t look at him, but knew he shrugged.

His arm rubbed against yours as he did it.

“Maybe she doesn’t care.”

“I guess not.”

“Maybe she knows he’s actually into it.”

“That could be one explanation.” Jungkook says, sighing.

“Plus she obviously gets exactly what she was looking for.” He adds.

Onscreen, Susan Sarandon was going down on James Spader.

Which to you didn’t seem to back up his point at all.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she’s having a great time getting absolutely nothing out of this.”

“That’s what this looks like to you? Like she’s getting nothing out of this?”

“Well, in movies they make it look like she is. But I doubt she really would be.”

“You doubt that giving a guy a blow job could be enjoyable for a woman.”

You glanced at him then, just to see if his expression was as incredulous as his voice.

Then had to look back at the screen quickly. If anything, his expression was worse. He had one eyebrow raised, and there was almost no humour in his eyes. This was serious somehow. Much too serious.

“I don’t know. I mean it’s not really something you do for your own enjoyment. You do it for his.”

“So to you there’s nothing pleasurable about it. Nothing sexy about having a guy at your mercy. Begging you, moaning for you, trying not to push too deep when it gets too good.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do those things?”

The words came out too fast. Too disbelieving, too.

But You just couldn’t stop them. They ripped out of you before you had time to talk it over with you mind, all ragged around the edges and maybe a little breathless. Just enough that he likely heard it, and wondered why. You couldn’t tell him, however. You didn’t know yourself.You only knew that when he started talking again You had the urge to put your fingers in your ears.

“Of course I do those things. Having your cock sucked is fucking amazing,” he said, which was absolutely fine.

But then he kept going.

He kept going.

“The heat and the slickness and her looking up at you as she works it with her hands and lips and tongue. Especially the tongue. The tongue is the best part. Watching it curl right around the—”

“Well, okay, it sounds cool when you put it that way.”

God your voice sounded loud. And too fast again, too. All your words practically jumbled together.

“I don’t know what other way it could possibly be.”

“How about hold still while I fuck your face? Some guy coming right in your eye? Losing a chunk of hair because he pulled too hard?”

“You’re not serious. Tell me honestly. None of that happened.”

Now his voice was bright with amusement. But it didn’t make you feel any better.

“All of that happened. To me. More than once.”

“Yeah but after…”

“After what?”

“After he came then he…”

He made a circle with his hand bobbing his head, as though you should know that one thing logically followed on from the other. It was all completely easy and obvious.

Instead of the hardest quiz you had ever had to get through. “Then he what? Gave me cab fare?”

“No. No. After that then this happens.”

You glanced at the thing he was pointing at.

Then had to look away again, quick. At your hands, at the bedspread.

At him, as he oh-so-slowly realized what your sudden awkwardness meant.

“This has never happened to you. Holy shit. You’ve never had a guy go down on you.”

“I have had a guy go down on me. I totally have.”

“Are you sure about that? You don’t look sure.”

“Well, maybe not like this.”

“There’s no other way to do it. This is actually the most basic, ordinary way to go about eating pussy.”

At those words, you could feel the fire burning on your cheeks and your breathing getting laboured. Jungkook really had no filter.

“Yeah, but this seems really exciting and sexy and hot.”

“Going down on a girl is really exciting and sexy and hot. Like I said about giving a guy head? Exactly the same principle. You get to see you writhe and shake and push herself against your mouth. Just like that, just like Sarandon is doing. Look at her. Look at her.”

“I am. I am looking,” You said, but You weren’t, not really.

You were thinking of the shiver that had gone through you when he said look, soft as butter and so oddly tender. And the way that he was looking himself, eyes almost far away.

Like he was seeing Sarandon, but putting someone else in her place.

“Think about how it must feel.”

“Yeah I can…I get that…”

“Think about his tongue slowly easing over her soft folds.”

“Is that…how…is that what you…” You said, breathlessly “Uh-huh.”

“And it works?”

You voice was a whisper now. But that was okay. His was, too. It was so low he had to lean close to ask you questions. He had to meet your gaze, and You had to meet his.

“What works?”

“It makes you…you know. Cum.”

“Oh yeah. But you gotta take your time.”

“I see. I guess that makes sense.” You were just babbling now, trying to keep up with him.

“Let it build, nice and slow. Start by just stroking her with your fingertips. Work her, you know, until her lips part. And then when she’s all open to you, you just trace the shape of her with your tongue. Lick and lick in these ever decreasing circles until you’re right…fucking…there.”

“Where? Where…where are you?”

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew you shouldn’t as soon as it was out. Your faces were too close together now, and his body seemed to be looming over yours. That was his shoulder, almost nudging your chin. And his thigh, pressing deep and hard into yours. His answer was never going to make any of this better.

Then it came, hotter than molten lava and twice as destructive.

“Her clit. Her slick, swollen clit.”

“I see. That makes sense,” You said, even though that wasn’t what you wanted to go with.

No, what you wanted to go with was more like oh my fucking God this can’t be reality.

“Then you just…stroke it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until she’s mindless.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, or doing. She might tell you to bite, to fuck her with your tongue and fingers, harder or faster or some word that doesn’t even make sense. Hips coming up to meet you, greedy for it, horny for it, so horny she barely notices that her hand is in your hair and she’s squeezing tight enough for it to sting, so close to coming that her whole body is shuddering and shivering and flushing that deep, good pink. Soon as you see it you just know she’s burning. That her clit is aching and throbbing and her pussy is all open and slippery, and one more second of this will make her come. She’s already coming, before you even know where you’re at. Hard, hard, hard, like she never has before.”

You were holding your breath by the time he was done. You practically had to—his face was so close now you could have blinked and brushed his cheek with your eyelashes. Every word he said seemed to stroke against your face, cool at first but then more heated. As though he was starting to boil alive inside, too. Certainly he looked that way. You have never seem him flushed like this, not even when he pushed himself during a match.

Not even when he was embarrassed.

Though you supposed that wasn’t a common occurrence. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed now, and he’d just said all those words. He said clit and pussy and slippery, as if that was just a normal way to talk to your friend. And he did it all without flinching, too. Without glancing away or putting some distance between you. In fact, those eyes of his—now heavy lidded and so soft focus—seemed intent on you more than they ever had been before. They skittered all over you face, searching for something you had no idea how to give.

You didn’t even know what the something was.

You only knew that it made you forget yourself, just as he had described.

It made you search his face back, marvelling over every brutish line and gentle curve. Those lips of his, as plump as a girl’s yet so masculine at the same time. Every inch of them gleaming, as if he’d slicked them with gloss in anticipation of a kiss. Though even in that moment you didn’t really believe you wanted that. Until he whispered, low and heavy against your own lips.

“You can, you know.”

“Can what?”

“Touch yourself.”

It jolted you, when he said it.

But not as much as realizing why he said it.

You followed his gaze down, and took in the unmistakable sight of your hand in your lap. Really, really high up in your lap. Almost between your legs, in fact—though that was fine, it was cool, it was okay. You stuttered ‘no, no I didn’t really want to do that’, but it didn’t matter.

Because his hand was actually between his legs.

“I do,” he said.

As the whole world as You knew it dissolved right in front of your eyes.

“You do?”

“Fuck, yes. I’m dying to.”

“Because of the film. Because of the movie.”

“Sure. We can say that, if you want.”

You closed your eyes. Swallowed thickly.

Wished hard that he hadn’t added that last part.

“If we could that would be awesome.”

“No problem. I mean it was probably inevitable that this would happen to us.”

“Probably, yeah. Almost definitely, in fact.”

“Just a natural response to a sexy movie.”

“Seems that way to me.”

“So you just slip your hand under your waistband, and I’ll slip my hand under mine,” he said, which was fine all on its own. The problem was that he then went ahead and did it. You tried not to look, but saw anyway. You saw the way he fumbled in his haste, as though all his talk was only calm on the surface. Underneath, something was paddling frantically. It was making his cheeks pink and his body all trembly.

And his dick hard. God, his cock was hard.

You could see that without even trying at all. The curving shape beneath his sweatpants was enormous and unmistakable, and even if it hadn’t been, his hand made it pretty clear. As You watched, he eased it over that solid length, before finally clasping it in a way that shoved the swollen head right up against the tented material. Now You could make out ruder details, like the thick ridge around the head, and the slit at the tip. Both pronounced, explicit, rude.

But that wasn’t what really got you.

It was the way he stopped to lick his palm, before shoving it

under his waistband.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, are you serious?”

“It’s cool. it’s fine. We don’t even have to look at each other.”

“No I guess not. I guess…I guess that I can just watch the screen.”

“We’re just two people getting off over a hot movie.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”

But that wasn’t strictly true. You weren’t getting off over the movie at all. Nothing was even happening anymore—it was just rich people looking down their noses and arguments over a Dust buster. If anything, it was vaguely depressing, rather than lust-inducing. Yet still You sat there, face burning, body tender and rigid all at the same time. Half of you stuffed so full of embarrassment and shock you sort of wanted to block everything out, the other half just shamelessly straining to hear every single tiny sound he made. Never daring to look, of course, but then…

You really didn’t need to.

He made so much noise that you could make out almost everything. Every little moan and gasp—and there were a lot of them, too. Lots of thick, guttural moans that started on an ah and ended with a kind of abrupt sigh, as though a knife had sliced through his throat before he could finish. So many soft mmms and gasps, like he honestly couldn’t get enough of whatever he was doing.

Though it was the whispers that hit you hardest. They got you right in the gut, low down and deep enough to ache. Oh yeah, he murmured, as though the hottest sex in the world was happening onscreen. As though they were fucking like animals, up and down and left and right. His tone even sounded sort of tremulous, and it got more intense as time went on. Soon he was panting, and rocking, and every now and then uttering something he was clearly imagining himself doing.

“Ah, yeah, suck my cock, just like that,” he said.

Then just to make it extra agonizing, he spat into his hand.

To make it extra slick, you thought, like someone’s mouth. Someone sucking him the way he’d described, slow and steady until he was actually shuddering, right here and now. The bed was moving, at least, and it wasn’t because he was working that cock hard. He wasn’t. He was going slow, so slow, squeezing and rolling rather than the short, fast kind of thing You’d always thought guys did. They almost never seemed to do anything else in porn…but then again they never did all this other stuff, too. You dared to turn you head a little more and saw to your astonishment that he had his hand pressed to his mouth. He was almost biting his fist, chest heaving, body shivering all over—but most important, eyes closed.

He couldn’t even see you looking. You were free to do as you pleased.Yet something held you back. You couldn’t seem to do more than peek out of the corner of you eye, and even that made you feel strange. You kept getting this clenching sensation—sort of like embarrassment or humiliation—and it got worse when his back arched. When he actually said out loud that he was almost there, that he was so close, that he was gonna come all over your duvet. I need something to do it on, he said, and even that had a shameful frisson of its own. You had a brief flash of him kneeling up and suddenly coming all over your face, or maybe pulling down that ridiculously large neck hole to expose your breasts.

Followed by an image of that thick white liquid coating you, striping you face, dripping off your tight little nipples. Him pushing his cock past your lips to finish off, groaning as he flooded your mouth.

And he would have flooded it, too. You glanced at him just in time to see him shove his sweatpants down, that big dick swelling under the pressure of his too-tight grip. Thick ribbons of come already hitting his bared belly, over and over until you were sure he must be done. He had to be, yet more kept flowing over his still-working fist. You watched it run down over his fingers in slippery trails before pooling in his lap.

Though none of it was what you kept seeing behind your eyes in the aftermath. Instead, you saw the way his face had looked as he shot his load. The open mouth, and the closed eyes, and most of all the strange, wrenching vulnerability that had covered him for a moment. No mischief, no macho bullshit—just a completely open and abandoned sort of ecstasy.

And all of it for you.

He knew you had watched him. He still knew now. You flicked your eyes back to the screen as he started to catch his breath, but the first thing he did was include you.

“Guess I kind of made a mess here,” he said, everything about his tone suggesting two conspirators, finishing off their evil deed. You even got up after he’d said it, to get him a tissue.

Though when You got back he’d pretty much taken care of most of it.

You stopped in the doorway to the bathroom at the sight: Him, casually licking his messy fingers.

It took you a good two minutes after that to go over to him, with your fistful of toilet paper. And when you did go, it was on very shaky legs. Your whole body felt shaky, in fact—though not in any way you’d experienced before. This was like being full to the brim with something burning hot, skin so close to ripping that it couldn’t keep still. Sometimes you thought you could see it shivering slightly under the strain, and every inch of it was tender, so tender. His leg brushed yours as you sat down, and it was agony. You even winced—then immediately regretted it.

He had been concentrating on clean-up. Now he looked up at you sharply.

And asked questions You were loathing to answer.

“Have you…not? I mean have you not—”

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I couldn’t.”

“God, you must be bursting.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

The problem was though; you didn’t seem fine.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Your hands were fists on your thighs.

And of course he could see all of that.

“You look like you’re bursting.”

“Oh yeah? And what does bursting look like?”

“Your voice is shaking.”

“Is it?” You asked, voice so light it almost passed.

Almost, almost, almost.

“Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Are they?”

“And then there’s the fact that your nipples are like diamonds. Fuck, look how stiff they are. Isn’t that agonizing, having them like that? I bet your clit’s the same. Bet your pussy is so wet. So wet you’re making a mess of the nice, clean clothes.”

Your cheeks grew hotter and hotter as he whispered each word. By the time he was done they felt like they were going to melt right off you face. That tense, cringing feeling in your stomach was ten times worse, and that was before he got to the last point. The one about the clothes, and the mess, and oh god what if he was right? It felt as if he might be. You weren’t wearing any underwear, and everything was really slippery between your legs. You could feel it, every time You moved.

“Oh fuck, sorry, sorry I don’t…I hope…it’s just that—” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing

“Honey, you don’t need an explanation.”

His tone was like sinking into a warm bath—and the thumb you could feel stroking over you forearm only pulled you deeper down. He just did it so idly. So like he wasn’t touching you at all.

Before you knew it, you were up to your ears in liquid heat.

“Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like I do.”

“I’m sure. I mean, the movie was pretty intense.”

“Right, exactly. Super intense.”

“So why deny yourself?”

“I’m not…denying…anything.”

“I could leave, if you want.”

“No, god no,” You said, too fast and too fierce.v

Though it was only afterward that you realized how it sounded: Not like someone trying to say you didn’t want to masturbate. Like someone saying that you wanted him to stay.

And he took it that way, too.

“Or, you know. I could just…do it for you,” he said.

Then you just had to do your best not to go out of your mind.

You stopped herself from jumping up. Kept your hands from flailing.

Didn’t look at him, in case looking made you do something crazy.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”

“I always take a lot.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone.”

“Well, maybe we should see about that.”

Again, you had the urge to get up. Maybe you even would have, if it hadn’t been for the other things he was doing. The thumb stroking your arm was now the back of his hand, running the length of your arm over and over. And that was his breath against the curve of your throat, so close and warm he could have been kissing you there. It felt like kissing.

Only without the scariness of the real thing.

All of this was without the scariness of the real thing. It was just a game, that was all—and one that you could win if you really put you mind to it. He thought he could get you so easily, but he was utterly and completely wrong. You were a rock, in the face of whatever he was going to do. You were impervious to the pleasure he seemed to think he was going to dole out, to the point where you almost laughed when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of those too-big sweatpants.

It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.

Not sexy in the least.

And then his fingertips just oh-so-lightly grazed the pouting lips of your swollen pussy, and things pretty much started to go downhill from there. The sensation it sent through you was just so intense, and over something so small. He hadn’t even slipped between them to your clit, or eased a finger into your slick little hole. In truth, you weren’t entirely sure he’d touched you at all.

Yet you still had to clench your jaw.

You had to tell herself that it was just the stuff that had happened before—the film and him coming and then licking his fingers like a satisfied cat. It wasn’t anything to do with this right now, with him touching you, with his skill. He wasn’t skilful at all. He was terrible. Awful.

he worst lover you had ever had.

You had no idea why your thighs were trembling. Or what made you moan when he finally, finally, finally eased his fingers into that slick slit, and then topped it off by telling you just what he found there.

“Ohhhh fuuuuck you are wet. You’re so wet. Jesus Christ, Y/N, how can you stand it? How can you sit still and quiet with those eyes closed when your pussy is like this? So slippery I can just glide all the way down and ease on in and oh man, oh man,” he said, and all You could do in response was shiver and make a number of embarrassing noises. First for his words, and then oh god then for the feel of him doing it.

He used two fingers—two of those long, thick fingers—yet somehow it didn’t hurt when he pushed into you. There was no fumbling or searching. Your body just seemed to open for him, as though they’d dated for years and he’d worked on you for hours. He knew exactly how to touch you there, and when he did you simply had to respond. Your gasp rung out in the small room.Though you vowed it would be the last one. That was it now—you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of anything else. Not even when he started working his fingers in and out, slow and steady and so unbelievably good. you kind of wanted to cry over the unfairness of it. Why was he the one who had to be so good at this? How did he know how to do it in this deliberate, teasing, tantalizing way?

Even watching him do it was exciting. You made the mistake of glancing down and all you could see was his hand rolling beneath the material, the waistband occasionally stretching to give you a glimpse of your glossy cunt, his gleaming fingers, the way you were spread around that thick intrusion…

Fuck.

You had to look at the screen just to stop yourself coming right then and there—though even those measures had an exciting quality of their own. James Spader was just doing something incredibly dull now, while you sat here watching through slitted eyelids, cheeks flushed and legs spread, as a man slowly fingered your slick, flushed pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, until you were so beside yourself you weren’t sure you even wanted to hold back your moans. You only knew that you were still trying, for reasons that seemed vague and far away now. It just doesn’t matter, your mind hissed, but you kept it up anyway. You held yourself more tightly and bit deep into your lip—deep enough that you tasted blood. And when he started to ease those fingers up, you shut your eyes tight. You thought of other things, more boring things: dry books and bird-watching. All to no avail. He made one circle around your clit.

Just one tiny, insignificant circle, and that was it. Your orgasm rolled up from that stiff little bud, in one all-consuming and all-powerful wave. It took away your control over your body—your toes curled tight and your back arched. But most important, it took away your control over your mouth. It let one little word slip out.

Though one little word was more than enough.

“Jungkook,” You said, and after that the game was pretty much up. That was gratitude in your voice and pleasure in the sigh behind it, and all wrapped in the neat little bow of his name. There was no more pretending that it wasn’t him who had made you feel this way, or suggesting that all of this was just a game.And he knew it immediately. He kept up the thrusts of his long, thick fingers, helping you prolong the feeling of your orgasm for as long as possible. And he didn’t stop there. Your face was starting to contort from the oversensitivity and it was obvious that Jungkook knew it too from the way he bit his lip and started to purposely move his fingers faster once again.

“Ahh! J-Jungkook… I can’t….” You moaned out, though this seemed to have no effect on him as he seemed determined to elicit another orgasm from you. His fingers scraping against your tightening walls as they fought to repeatedly slam back inside you. Your thighs were shaking, your eyes half lidded, leaning back on your hands as his worked between your legs. Suddenly you gripped Jungkook’s moving hand as you came dangerously close to letting go.

“That’s it, fuck, cum again for me Y/N. I need this. You need this” He almost sounded desperate and it made you want to sob because everything was so fucking hot.

With a cry of his name, you came undone again, your body almost curling in towards itself from the sensitivity.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” he said, as though you’d cried out the filthiest thing on the face of the earth. And, again, he didn’t stop there. You could hear him fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants already—though you tried to turn it into something else in your head. He was just pulling them up, you thought. They had slid down as he serviced you, that was all.

Only it wasn’t all.

When you made the mistake of glancing his way, you saw so much more than you were ready for. It was supposed to be over now, completely over, but he’d shoved everything down to mid-thigh and his cock was in his hand again and god god god why was it so arousing? You’d had cum twice already. He’d had one orgasm already, and now he was being so fucking filthy.

Yet somehow the filthiness only made it worse.

You came searingly close to telling him yes.

And go on.

And come all over me—just like you’d imagined.

For one wild second, it even seemed like he might. He was groaning and panting and he kept saying things, incredible things like “do you see what you do to me do you get how fucking horny you make me oh fuck just hearing you moan my name”. His hand was heavy on your shoulder, and you knew he was close. He was going to yank your top down any second now.

Any second, you thought.

Though you didn’t realize how much you wanted it until the first thick burst slid over his fist.

Didn’t know how little control you had over herself until he grunted your name and shuddered violently, that slick fluid easing over his still-pumping fist. After all, if you’d had any you would have stayed right where you were, content to just watch.Instead of leaning forward to take that heavy, swollen, slippery head in your mouth, to catch the last ribbons of his salt-sweet cum all over your eager tongue.

“Fucking fuck, Jagiya” Jungkook cursed loudly, watching you take the head of his cock in your mouth. He slid his hands in your hair, gripping it from the bottom of your skull gently, rocking your face back and forth, riding out the last of his high. You looked up at him, eye still glassed over, breathing hard and laboured and slid the head of him out of your mouth.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was shocked at your boldness but he seemed pleasantly surprised. His pupils blown out, lips swollen, skin gleaming. He truly was a work of art. The magnitude of what you two had done hit you hard. So, naturally, there was only one thing left to do in panic.

Kick him out.

“Jungkook…you need to leave”

A/N: So, Idk what happened but yeah hope you all enjoy. Not sure if I’ll make this a series since I’m bad at continuing ideas. I may stick to separate scenarios. I get bored easily. However, please feel free to check out my blog and send me ideas for new fics

Suga Daddy: Part 7

Suga Daddy: Part 7

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Words: 9.6k

Genre: Smut, angst, dirty talk, dom!Yoongi

There is another gif in the story that describes the moment I was portraying. Ignore Namjoon’s name on it, lol. Anyway, enjoy :) 

Parts:  one | two | three | four | five | six 

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One Foot In The Grave

First thing Keith did when he got home was scream into his pillow and flop onto his bed.
Lance had kissed him!
He hottest and most popular guy in school had actually kissed him.
“Good day?” Shiro asked from the door way.
He didn’t have his prosthetic on and looked like he had just gotten out of the shower with his hair still wet clinging to his forehead.
“Shiro am I dead?” Keith asked remaining face down.
“What?” He asked in surprise sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I think I must of died, maybe I’m passed out somewhere and it didn’t really happen.” Keith mumbled.
Shiro was starting to get worried, he had never seen his brother like this before. “Keith, buddy you need to tell me what happened.”
“Lancekissedme.” Keith said very very quietly.
“What was that?” Shiro asked sure he must of misheard him.
“L-Lance the guy everyone at school loves kissed me…”
“…”
Silence.
Keith bit his lip nervously staring down at his Spider-Man bed spread.
Shiro started laughing causing the younger boy to glare up at him. “What’s so funny!” He demanded.
“I figured you had killed someone.” Shiro answered between laughs. “Never expected you to act this way over a little old kids, anyone would think it was… wait a second.” Shiro peered at him for a second before putting his hand on his shoulders “Keith Kogane was that your first kiss?” He asked quietly, his voice and face masked in neutrality.
Keith hesitated before finally nodding.
Shiro’s grip tightened and a forced smile appeared on his face. “Really? And this random hot shot took it?” The casual tone sounded so forced that Keith found himself cringing.
“He’s not some random guy.”
“So then why have you never mentioned him before?” Shiro asked.
“Well erm… cause we never really talked and stuff.” Keith shrugged pretending not to mind when Shiro’s grip became a little painful.
“Oh.” Was all he said.
“Oh?” Keith questioned.
“Yes oh…” Shiro dropped his hand to his lap thinking for a moment. “I’ll talk to you later, I need to think over something.”
Keith watched in concern as his bother stumbled out of the room mumbling to himself.
———————————–
“Allura I kissed Keith!” Lance yelled wheeling his chair into his oldest sisters room.
She was lying on her stomach across her bed messing around on her laptop.
“Jeez Lance ever learn how to knock.” She sighed sitting up to look at him.
“No time! I kissed Keith! Keith Kogane!” He yelled.
Allura’s eyes widened “oh… my… god…”
“I know!”
“You kissed the guy you declared your rival!”
“I know!”
“The guy you’ve had a crush on for like ever!”
“I know!”
“You had your first kiss with your dream guy!”
“I KNOW!”
At this point Allura had jumped up and was kneeling in front of Lance. “Ok tell me everything!”
Lance explained how he had broken his leg and Keith helped him get home and in the spur of the moment he decided to kiss him before slamming the door in his face so he could hide behind Leo for a few hours.
Allura listened growing increasingly more excited.
“Ok I’m taking you to school tomorrow!” She decided. “Your cars in the shot anyway, and it’s not like you can walk to school. Plus I gotta make sure he’s good enough for my little bro.”
She hugged him making Lance squirm pretending not to enjoy her hugs when in fact he loved them. “Allurrrrrra.” He moaned pushing her away.
———————————–
The next morning Keith was in the kitchen having breakfast when Shiro walked down in his sleepless tank top that he only ever wore when he wanted people to notice just how ripped her was.
“I’m coming to school with you. And before you say no I’m gonna say that I don’t care what you have to say. I need to go down their anyway and this has nothing to do with this Lance boy.”
Keith wasn’t convinced but knew arguing would be pointless.
So that’s how Keith found himself stuck with his brother leaning against the bonnet of his car in the parking lot looking for anyone that fit Lance’s description.
“Shiro seriously stop.” Keith rolled his eyes as Shiro glared at yet another tall skinny tanned boy.
“Not until I meet this boy, I just want a chat.”
Keith groaned. He knew this would happen.
“Keith!”
The two whipped their heads round to see a tall woman running directly towards them.
Shiro blushed, he would know that beautiful white hair anywhere.
Allura came to a stop just short of running into the two and was smiling.
“Lance is in the office and I figured I would let you know. I’m sure the two of you have a lot to talk about.”
Keith paled slightly “whys he in the office? Is he ok?” He asked a little too quickly to sound casual.
Allura nodded waving him off with her hand “oh yes he is perfectly fine, just needed to change his class schedule so he doesn’t have to go up any stairs until his prosthetic’s repaired.”
Keith didn’t wait for anymore information and instead took off running leaving the two adults alone.
“It’s good to see you again Shiro, I heard you got back but didn’t have your number.”
Shiro swallowed “oh yeah… erm so you know Lance?”
Allura laughed “I would hope so, he is my little brother after all.”
Shiro helped whatever god was looking out for him that he didn’t end up yelling at his crushes little brother right in front of her. “Oh. I never realised.”
“Not many do, Lance was adopted after he lost his parents in the same accident that cost him his legs, it’s been hard for him. But I’m sure you understand better then anyone what losing a limb is like.
Shiro was silent. He hadn’t realised Lance was like him.
“Yeah I do.”

—————————————- Part 1: https://langsty-mc-langstface.tumblr.com/post/160205940560/one-foot-in-the-grave
You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend

Masterlist linked in bio 


Harry’s been drinking all night.

It all started off with Savannah, whom he went to Lexi’s Bar with a couple of friends. It was a tradition they all had that carried throughout the past couple of months. Because Friday night meant cheaper alcohol, and Y/n’ s closing shift.

They were all having a good time, Y/n serving them drinks and they all drank their week away. It was just a night of celebrating the end of the week, where stress could be left behind for at least a couple of hours.

Everything was great until Harry got too handsy. It wasn’t his fault, he thinks, they had been talking for months and he had no particular reason to refrain himself from wrapping his arms around Savannah, considering she’s let him do it many times before.

But tonight, she wasn’t going near him, which was a drastic change from her previous attitude with him earlier that night.

So now, he’s stranded at Lexi’s Bar past closing hours, tipsy out of his mind. Savannah left without a word, abandoning him at the bar with no other ride home. 

Jesus, Harry!” Y/n gasps, her hand instinctively reaching for her chest when she makes her way back to the bar. “What the hell are you still doing here?!”

Their friends had left a while ago, only Harry remaining slumped against the bar with an empty glass of Malibu. She wasn’t aware of his stay, in fact, it was her closing shift and the bar had closed twenty minutes ago. Only the slight sound of the radio and the clanging of dishes Y/n was washing could be heard throughout the scene.

He looks like a mix of frustrated and upset, a clear shadow of sadness in his eyes as he looks up at her. He frowns a bit, looking back down at the empty glass that’s fiddling in his hands as he lets out an almost inaudible sigh.

“Do you mind driving me home?” he asks guiltily, “Savannah was my ride but she’s not really speaking to me right now.”

Y/n furrows her eyebrows at the softness of his words, an evident tone of helplessness when he spoke. She nods her head slightly, reaching over to grab his finished drink.

“Gonna wash this real quick,” she mutters, “you can grab your coat, I’ll be right out.”

Harry nods while shooting her a small smile through his frown. He’s always been extremely appreciative of her efforts with him. He knows damn well no other person would be able to treat him the way she does. She put him first, always, and it had always been something Harry never fully understood. She went out of the way for him whenever he needed it most, without the smallest hesitation. And if he needed someone to talk to, even if it was about the horrendous traffic on his way to work, she was always there to listen to him.

He can’t lie, he feels guilty that it’s her closing shift and she’d have to be driving out of her way in order to take him home. But in all honesty, he had nobody else. Savannah left without a word after Harry tried desperately to get her attention, his other friends following shortly after in one car, leaving Harry stranded alone at the bar with Y/n still working. So, really, this was his only option.

When Y/n returns to the front of the bar, she remains silent as she grabs her coat off of the hanger. She looks at him from the corner of her eye, watching as his fingers rub harsh circles against his temples, a gesture he’s always done when he was stressed. He shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes tightly as he fixes the jacket hanging swiftly from his shoulders.

She bites her lip, curious eyes wandering around his slumped frame. Seeing Harry distressed makes her feel upset. Witnessing him at a time of stress was extremely rare, and something about it makes Y/n’s stomach drop. He was always so positive, always making sure the people around him were smiling. He has the type of personality others strive, because he’s so selfless and effortless at everything he does, it’s the part of him Y/n always loved and admired.

“What happened? You okay?”

Harry lets out a frustrated sigh, his nose flaring as he closes his eyes momentarily.

“Savannah’s just so confusing sometimes. I like her a lot, but she’s hard to keep up with. It’s like she’s into me one minute and the next like I’m completely wasting her time, you know? I don’t know what she wants from me anymore.”

Y/n nods, understanding completely what he’s talking about. Savannah often does this to him—to most guys, actually.Because of how different they both are relationship-wise, it’s almost impossible for Harry to adjust to Savannah’s ‘hard to get’ character. Harry prefers to not waste any time when it comes to dating. If he likes someone who reciprocates feelings, he immediately takes action. That’s how he always was with his past girlfriends, taking no time to start a relationship with them.

Savannah, however, loves the game. Being chased amuses her, almost makes her feel as if she’s worth something. Because of her undoubtable beauty and irresistibly charming personality, she always makes the man work for her liking. Her character always made guys frustrated but exposed them to an entirely different relationship. Her hot to cold attitude made men feel intimidated, yet motivated them to catch her. Because, undoubtedly, she’s the ultimate catch no guy could ever ignore.

It had always been that way, too. When Y/n and Savannah both hit puberty, Savannah was the irresistible one. Her figure curved at all the right edges, her tan complexion naturally glowing, and she started to expose herself to new people.

She wasn’t shy of anything. Any opportunity to take on a challenge called Savannah’s name. She was constantly seeking adventure and finding new people to get along with. Which, of course, wasn’t hard at all. Everyone liked Savannah, it was almost impossible not to.

Y/n, however, was the exact opposite. She was beautiful, but not ‘Savannah beautiful.’ She was paler, not a spot of makeup on her face. Her body was a bit more frail than hers, her curves not as extenuated. She was more introverted, as well, only speaking when she felt was necessary. The only way she was able to make friends was through Savannah’s courageous behavior.

And although Savannah and Y/n had an unbreakable bond since middle school, being Savannah’s best friend screwed up Y/n’s love life tremendously. It hurt Y/n a lot throughout her high school years. Being best friends with the most beautiful girl wasn’t easy for her, if anything, it made her feel less about herself. It’s the exact reason why she hasn’t dated in years. Because guys Y/n liked always ended up falling for Savannah.

Which is exactly what’s happening with Harry.


Y/n first met Harry when she began working at Lexi’s. It was her first Friday night shift during the summer. It was her first week after training, so she wasn’t quite used to the busy weekends and late hours, but she didn’t mind it.

She was rearranging glasses at the bar when Harry first walked in. Her breath hitched in her throat when she first saw him enter. She could have sworn her heart had jumped out from her chest in that very moment. He was beautiful, a different kind of beautiful, too. He was so effortless at it—the way he moved and the way he presented himself; he had confidence in himself without flaunting it.

He was wearing tight black jeans with a pink floral see-through button up, flowing loosely from his shoulders. His chest was in great view, as well, the cross hanging from his necklace dangling perfectly between his pecs. His hair was freshly cut, his face freshly shaved and had an aroma of a cologne Y/n wasn’t familiar with. It was unique, though, like him, and all-in-all made him more attractive than she already perceived him to be.

Her eyes went wide when he claimed the barstool in front of her, her actions coming to a halt as her eyes hawked over his every move. She genuinely forgot how to breathe, his physical features overwhelming her in ways she’s never experienced before. The world around her seemed to fade as she admired every part of him she could see.

He was just so breathtaking.

It wasn’t until one of the other bartenders dropped a glass onto the floor that Y/n was pulled out of her trance. She quickly shook her head, slowly coming back in touch with reality. Thankfully, he hadn’t seemed to notice her presence yet.

She shook her head again before working to dry the remaining shot glasses. She just had to make it a couple of hours without completely embarrassing herself in front of him, that’s all she had to do.

Her eyes drifted slightly to him again when he lifted his right leg up against the unoccupied barstool next to him, leaning over before his fingers started working to retie his shoelace.

“The usual.” he spoke, eyes still cast downward.

Y/n looked around behind the counter, checking to see if he was talking to someone else. Considering she had just started working there a week ago and hasn’t served him yet, she was completely clueless as to what he was ordering.

“Uh..”

He looked up from his shoes, eyes diverting right into hers as a sense of realization reached his features.

“Oh, I see,” he giggled, “Sorry, love. I wasn’t aware there was a new bartender in town.”

His voice was both raspy and smooth in the most elegant way she’s ever heard. His accent was so incredibly thick she could visually see it by the way his lips moved. And his giggle, with the slight smirk he developed made her heart flutter in her chest.

Y/n nodded, smiling slightly at him.

“Yeah, just started a week ago. Nobody’s ever ordered ‘the usual’ before.” she joked, nervous laughter falling from her lips as she tucked loose pieces of hair behind her ear.

He grinned at her, his cheeks turning a bit peachy. He had to admit, she was gorgeous, and clearly had a great sense of humor. He could tell she was shy, though, by the way she wasn’t confident in her words and the way her cheeks flushed whenever he spoke to her.

“Cute” he muttered ever so slightly, Y/n almost thought she imagined it, “‘The usual,’ at least for me, is a Malibu Bay Breeze. Bit heavier on the cranberry juice, a bit lighter on the pineapple.”

Y/n nodded, muttering a quiet “coming right up” before gathering the ingredients. Harry watched her as she poured it all together, mixing the essential ingredients, admiring her gestures and movements whenever he said something that made her smile.

They talked for hours that night, getting to know each other. Y/n was mesmerized, completely and utterly captivated at how somebody like him could possibly exist. He was everything she’s ever dreamed of—there wasn’t any part of him she didn’t find alluring. This was the only time she’s ever spoken to him, yet she found herself feeling something she’s never felt before.

And the feelings only got stronger with time. Every Friday for four months, Y/n found Harry coming into Lexi’s earlier than he usually did, and every time he’d come she prepared him a Malibu Bay Breeze—heavy on the cranberry, light on the pineapple.

He stayed with her until closing, until the last light went off and the music went down. And after she was off her shift, he took her to the 24-hour movie theater that hardly anybody went to in those early hours of the morning. Instead of watching, however, they spent the entire movie goofing around with popcorn and sharing fond memories of their childhood.

To say Y/n had fallen hard for Harry was an understatement. She was completely and unconditionally in love with him.

The feeling he had given her never subsided—he never failed to give her a feeling of euphoria whenever he spent his Friday nights with her. And the more he opened up to her, and the more she opened up to him, the more it felt right. He felt right, no part of her doubted that for a second. He captured her heart and she knew there was no way in hell she was ever getting it back.

Savannah even began to notice her shift in mood ever since her Friday night shifts began. It was as if she turned into an entirely different person. She seemed more confident in herself, and Savannah started noticing the softest of smiles illuminating on her face every so often.

Y/n was the happiest she had ever been before, she swore she was on cloud nine. Y/n started to believe nothing could have torn her down. Nothing.

But then, it happened.

Savannah showed up to Lexi’s during Y/n’s regular Friday night shift. It was a little past midnight, arriving back from her aunt’s wedding—which Y/n would have attended if she didn’t need the money (and if it wasn’t during her shift Harry was a frequent customer in).

She ran in with a long eggplant purple dress, which had a long slit along the leg. Her hair curled in perfect waves that fell loosely down her shoulders, her makeup illuminating and extenuating her flawless features.

“Y/n!” She squealed, scurrying her way to the bar while nearly tripping over her six-inch heels.

Y/n saw Harry’s eyes widen at the sight of her. Of course she visited her when Harry’s here, and of course, she visited when she looked as beautiful as ever. Y/n knew the second Savannah walked in that it was over, every possibility of her and Harry building up to a relationship has been knocked down to the ground.

Y/n closed her eyes momentarily, because she started to feel every part of her heartbreak, and it was the most painful feeling she’s ever felt. Harry’s only seen Savannah for a couple of seconds and he was already looking at her in a way he never has with Y/n.

She gritted her teeth harshly, because how did she think this wouldn’t happen? This was always how it ended, and even if Harry ever liked Y/n enough to start a relationship with her, she wouldn’t be able to hide him from Savannah forever.

“Guess what!” she yelled once she found her way to the bar, leaning against it so she was as close as possible to Y/n.

“What?” Y/n smiled weakly, unable to rid the aching in her chest.

“The photographer at the wedding asked me to be a model for his pictures! And not only that, but he just started working for Top Shop, said he could talk to some people for me to make this work! Can you believe it?! Savannah Turk, next top model! Gosh, I’m so excited!”

Y/n smiled widely. It was always Savannah’s dream to become a model, and she could definitely pull it off. In all honesty, she was shocked she wasn’t one already.

“That’s great, Savannah!” Y/n gasped, “I can’t believe this! I’m so happy for you!”

They both reached over to hug each other, Savannah jumping up and down as small squeals fall from her lips. Once they let go, Y/n is quick to fix up Savannah’s favorite drink as she claims the barstool next to Harry.

Harry’s heart began to race as she scooted closer to him. She was completely breathtaking. He had never seen someone like her before, every part of her intrigued him. She drew him in, and there was no way in hell there was any chance of going back.

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

Savannah let out a slight “push” as she waved her hand in the air.

“I know, Y/n doesn’t shut up about you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, but quickly refrained against her shocked expression as she let out a nervous laugh. God, they couldn’t know about her feelings, because she hadn’t told anybody about how she felt about Harry and certainly wanted to avoid talking about it while he’s practically gawking over Savannah.

Harry looked up at Y/n with a playful smirk resting perfectly on his face.

“Well, who else is going to get me through my Friday night shifts?” Y/n laughed.

Harry lifted his drink up to her, eyebrows lifting as he smirked at her, “And who else is going to get me through my loneliness, eh?”

Ouch.

Savannah’s eyebrows lifted, a wide grin on her face as she looked over to Harry. And by God, he surely was a sight to see.

“Oh, so ‘Friday night shift boy’ is lonely? Don’t know why Y/n hasn’t taken advantage of that yet,” Savannah smirked, “I know I would have.”


Y/n nods again, mustering up a sympathetic smile to him. She doesn’t want any part of Savannah’s games to make him feel bad about himself. None of what he’s feeling is his fault, and every atom in her body aches for him to know that.

“I’m sorry, Harry” she whispers, “I know how much that can hurt, you don’t deserve it.”

He gives her a soft smile, but it falls just as quickly as it spreads. His gaze falls to the floor, eyebrows furrowing as he shakes his head softly.

“I just can’t keep doing this with her.”

His soft and Bambi eyes look up at her in sorrow, a frown stretched on his lips at the strain his heart has endured.

“I don’t know what more I can do, Y/n.”

And as selfish as it sounds, the first thought that comes to her mind after the hopeless words leave Harry’s mouth is you can love me back.

Because, God, if he loved her, she wouldn’t keep him waiting. She wouldn’t keep him under the impression that he’s not good enough. No, Harry’s fulfilled every part of her wildest dreams, and she would never let a day go by without making him feel the way he deserves—loved.

Despite her selfish thoughts that she desperately wishes she could say to him, she pushes them all aside. Harry needs her, he needs her to be the friend that will be there for him in the latest hours of the night. He needs her shoulder to lean on, and she can’t deny the chance to help him through this and make him feel better.

She doesn’t respond to him, only slinging her bag around her shoulder and pointing her head toward the exit doors.

“We can talk about this later, yeah? Lets just get you home first.”


The ride to his house was silent, mainly consisting of the soft tune on the radio and Y/n’s hushed voice singing along. With the alcohol still buzzing inside Harry’s head, he didn’t mind the silence they shared. It was comfortable because Harry wasn’t in the mood to discuss his anticlimactic relationship with Savannah. He just needed someone to listen to him, to be there for him, and Y/n was his favorite company.

When they arrive at his house, Y/n is basically carrying Harry to his door.

“Yeah, alright, you—that’s right, you’re good” she huffs, the weight of his body making it a struggle for her to walk.

He isn’t drunk enough for her to completely guide him, but he is stumbling a bit and does find himself tripping over his own two feet a couple of times.  

Y/n giggles, shaking her head as she walks him through his front door. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have made you that many drinks. Thank God you weren’t planning on driving, that would have been a mess.”

Harry doesn’t have much time to respond before she sits him down on his couch. She runs her thumb along his forehead softly, wiping away some of the sweat before smiling at him softly.

"Gonna make you some tea, now.”

Harry shakes his head, his hand reaching to grab her wrist.

“Love, you don’t have to,” Harry shakes his head, “you’ve been making everybody’s drinks all night.”

She shrugs, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“I don’t mind. You’re upset, I want to make sure you feel better, alright? I know that Savannah does this to you and I don’t—“ she pauses, closing her eyes softly, “and I don’t want you to keep thinking that this is your fault.”

His heart swells at her words, his large hands reaching out to grip her small ones.

“Would you mind just—just lying down with me for a bit? I don’t want the tea, just need your company right now.”

Y/n frowns slightly, and she isn’t sad because she doesn’t want to be with him. What makes her sad is the intimacy of holding him would give her no chance to escape her feelings. Whenever she feels the heartbreak sneaking back up on her, she always finds a way to distract herself from the pain. Whether it was rearranging her bedroom, organizing the books on her bookshelf, or focusing on her work, there was always a way to escape the pain.

But it’s when she feels him—whether it’s the touch of his hand, or a rub of the shoulder—when she feels his skin ignite her and when she feels the warmth of is body against her, there was no running away from the harsh reality she’s been living in. There is no escape from the thought that she’s in love with someone she can never have because all she feels when she feels him is broken.

And it’s in these moments she finds herself being most selfish. Because he needs her now, holding him, reassuring him that everything will be okay. He’s going through the same feeling she is, and all she can think about is her stupid self and her broken heart, even when he needs her most.

She lays down on his couch first, which Harry finds particularly inviting. He lays with his head face down against her neck, legs tangled in between hers with his arms wrapped around her back. He loves cuddling with her. She’s just so soft, and she feels cozy, especially after he drinks heaps of alcohol. He hasn’t cuddled with her for a while, either, and holding her against him now already makes his shitty night somewhat tolerable.

“Thank you for being with me, Y/n” he mumbles against her collar bone, the fabric of her t-shirt moving against his lips. “And I’m sorry I made you drive me back.”

She giggles softly, her fingers brushing through his messy bed of curls. She feels him relax into her the more she rakes his hair, and he doesn’t hesitate to keep her motions going.

“It’s okay, didn’t have any other plans. Besides, I kind of miss being alone with you sometimes.”

He hums in response, pressing his cheek further into her neck. His eyes shut, his body relaxing to the sound of her heartbeat, which he feels thumping perfectly against his chest.

“S’good to me” he mumbles, “don’t know what I’d do without you, you know.”

Y/n feels her heart skip at the words he spoke against her, her whole body getting an overwhelming sense of despondency.

“Harry, I—“

“I think I’m gonna keep fighting for her” Harry interjects.

His voice is slurring now, his half-asleep daze making his words all jumbled. But he knows what he’s saying, and Y/n knows, too, and her heart plummets. Her throat suddenly begins to choke on cries she wasn’t aware had come so quickly. It’s just another reminder, just another confirmation that Savannah always gets what she wants, even if Y/n wants it more.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna give up on her yet. If I like her, I gotta fight for it, right? She’d be well worth it, too.”

Y/n tries desperately to blink away her tears, and she’s forever grateful that the light is off in his living room when she fails to do so.

“I—I think you should do what you want, Harry” her voice shakes as she speaks, “I’ll be here for you either way.”

Harry holds her tighter, humming in response again, because he’s already falling asleep and finds no energy in him to answer her.

She wishes with everything in her that she can scream, scream at him for being so fucking stupid and oblivious to her love. And the worst part is that she can’t even blame him. She had an entire four months where she could have confessed her feelings, where she could have told him how in love with him she was.

But would it have changed anything? Would they have just ended up in this shitty situation anyway?

And it isn’t until Harry’s passed out on top of her, his breath spreading along her chest and his fingers rubbing her back in his slumber that Y/n realizes she could spend forever laying here with him, all wrapped up against his body. She could fall asleep like this every night, after a long day of work and empty wine glasses on the coffee table. She could see everything, everything she’s ever envisioned, with him.

And it’s in this moment she realizes that she can’t keep doing this anymore, either.

Her cheeks dampen with her tears, hands shaking in his hair. Never would she think she’d have to let him go, but seeing his face rest so peacefully on her chest, she knows she has to.

“I love you, Harry.” She cries, her fingers gripping onto the roots of his hair.

God, Harry, I love you so much.” she sobs.

If Harry wasn’t such a deep sleeper, she would have never dreamt of saying all of this. But he’s remaining asleep, lips parted as he snores, the alcohol in his veins making him almost immobile against her.

“You deserve to be happy, Harry” she whispers, “I shouldn’t hold you back.”

Her body is shaking, soft cries leaving her lips and endless tears streaming down her face. She doesn’t want to let go, she doesn’t want to stop loving him in the way she does now. Because even though it hurts, she doesn’t want to imagine a day without him.

But she has to. For him.

Her thumbs rub along his cheekbones, her eyes admiring his features one last time.

“And it’s because I love you—“ she pauses, swallowing thickly as her shaking lips press tentatively against his forehead, “that I have to let you go.”

How to Zookeep: Job Interview Basics

So I was tagged by @why-animals-do-the-thing in a post about what not to say in a job interview. It’s a bit overdue, but I figured this was a good opportunity to continue some of “How to Zookeep” and give y’all some insight on interviews. I’ve actually conducted quite a lot of interviews for an entry-level position. Here are just a few Do’s and Don’ts…

Originally posted by principessadesu

General Maybe Do’s:

  • Wear an outfit that looks pretty nice, but don’t go too formal. You should be able to get muddy or hop a fence - just in case. Most of the time you’ll know if it’s a true working interview, but some interviews will involve a tour, meeting an animal, or other situations where you might get messy.
  • Show that you’ve researched the facility and the position. This is especially true for phone interviews or if you’re not from the area. If you’ve ever visited the facility, mention that. Mention specific parts of the job description and why you’re interested or why you would excel at it. I know I always make a good note if candidates reference something on our website or from the job description because it lets me know they’ve done their homework. (One time a candidate quoted something verbatim and it was a little jarring only because I wrote that part of the website and it was strange to hear someone quote me).
  • If at all possible, have specific examples from your past experiences that you can talk about. These could be examples of training, working well with others, strengths & weaknesses, general animal care, etc. Try to be able to tell a story about when you worked around a training difficulty or resolved an issue with a coworker. And yes, have a real answer for “strengths and weaknesses”.
  • Try to use the most ‘updated’ zoo language you can. Zoo terminology changes so fast it’s hard to keep up. Try to use some of the research (website and job description) to see what kind of language this particular facility uses and attempt to mirror it. Examples are “in human care” instead of captivity or “habitat / enclosure” instead of cage/exhibit. It’s just a bonus way to make a good impression.

Originally posted by a-night-in-wonderland

General Maybe Don’ts:

  • Don’t get political. This is what @why-animals-do-the-thing was asked about - mentioning animal rights activist groups in the interview. Unless you are completely sure that it is specifically relevant to the position try not to get into any heavy areas of debate, any controversial news stories (think Harambe), or politically charged organizations like PETA, HSUS, etc. And even though you might think that everyone in the zoo world agrees that US politics are terrible for zoos/the environment or something along those lines, a job interview is not the time to mention it.
  • Don’t ask for tips about a specific facility on a public forum. It’s important to do research, but this one crosses a bit of a professional line. I would advise against going on any public forum (like the facebook groups You Know You’re a Zookeeper When and Zookreepers) and asking for interview advice about a certain facility. Most people won’t want to comment publicly about their facility as it can be seen as unprofessional and a lot of their coworkers will see it. Most of the time the research you need can be done on the website and with some googling, but if you feel you just need to talk to someone who works there, try flexing your networking muscle a bit.
  • Don’t say you love animals. This sounds contradictory but hear me out here - this job is about much more than loving animals. A lot of interviewers are used to hearing this answer or seeing it in cover letters of people who think that liking animals is all you have to do for a job. Yes, you love animals, we know that. But what do you love about working with them? Do you like enrichment, exhibit design, training? What do you love about the career of zookeeper / aquarist / etc? It’s important to go beyond the surface of just wanting to be around animals and go into the details of how you will improve their lives when you literally have their lives in your hands. I’ve heard from a lot of interviewers that they’re tired of hearing about ‘passion’, they want to hear about action. They want to hear about cleaning, hard work, the real nitty-gritty of the job. This don’t also leads to a general tip (what if you don’t have examples of what you like yet?)

General Tips

Here’s a common problem: you’re applying for your first entry-level position and you don’t have any animal experience yet. What do you talk about? Here’s some ideas:

  • Academic research or fieldwork - did you go on birding trips? Did you do mist-netting? Have you worked in a lab that uses live animals? Those things can be beginner animal experience.
  • Volunteering - zoos, vet clinics, etc.
  • Formal domestic animal experience - even if it’s not with exotic animals, the basics of caring for small domestics (cats, dogs, rodents, fish, etc.) in a formal setting (vet, pet store, rescue) has some aspects that apply in zoos, such as restraint and medical care.
  • Personal pets (very carefully) - It’s not that personal pet experience isn’t helpful when you’re just starting out, but sometimes newer keepers come in with an idea that their pet experience is on the same level as caring for animals in a formal career setting. It is not. Caring for your own animal in your own home is VERY different from caring for it in a zoo, aquarium, vet’s office, etc. In a formal setting, there are legal guidelines to follow, teams of people to communicate with about animal care, and lots of formality/red tape that doesn’t exist in a home setting. Pets can be useful as examples in interviews if it is relevant (medicating, enrichment, restraint) but they are almost never seen as an actual qualification. Side note, please don’t list personal pet care on a resume. 

Overall in an interview, you want to try to be as collected and confident as possible. BUT if you get nervous and you’re really struggling, just tell us! It’s better to just laugh a bit and say sorry, I’m nervous, than to completely freeze up. I have done plenty of interviews where the person is nervous and that’s okay. I’ve hired people who were nervous or misspoke in their interview.

If you have any other questions, feel free to drop me a line. I’ve interviewed and hired people for just three years now, so I may not be particularly seasoned, but I can lend a little of my expertise.

Too Nice || Jeff Atkins x Reader

mmmMMMM JEff and EuuGH BrycE

Word Count: 817

Warnings: Bryce Has Grabby Hands

~


    When Jeff’s car pulled into the driveway of Bryce Walker’s house, it was already swarming with wasted teens. You grimaced, pressing back into the seat, your hands clutching at the seat belt; the only thing between you and the biggest party of the year.

    “Do you need help with that?” Jeff asked.

    Before you could reply, he had leaned over and clicked the buckle. The belt snapped back, leaving you feeling vulnerable, and a little nauseous. It didn’t make it any better when he moved to climb out of the car. He jogged over to your side, pulling open the door and reaching a hand out for you to take.

    You shook your head. “I can’t.”

    “It’s fine, Y/N. I’ll be right by your side the entire time,” he said. He had to dip down a fair amount to lock his hands around your wrists. “Give it like ten minutes, and if you’re not having fun we’ll turn around and go home.”

    You relented, letting him pull you out of the seat and against his chest. His hands ghosted across your lower back, fingertips trailing along the curves of your spine. He had that look on his face again. The one where he gets that little, crooked smile, and his eyes can’t seem to look at anything but you. Or, more specifically, your face.

    “God, I love you,” he said quietly, bringing his nose down to boop yours.

    “I love you too, but I’m going to hate you if I embarrass myself,” you replied.

    He chuckled, a low, deep sound that rumbled through his chest and into yours. “If you embarrass yourself, I’ll do something stupid to take the attention away from you.”

    You nodded. “Okay, deal.”

    He pulled away and the two of you started towards the house. It wasn’t too long of a walk from the driveway before you were slipping through the door. Jeff ushered you through crowds of people—all either greeting him with smiles and pats on the back, or being too drunk to know he was there. He stopped you near the living room, pointing you towards an empty love seat.

    “Save me a spot,” he said. “I’m going to go get us some beer.”

    You grabbed his arm, hoping you didn’t look as panicked on the outside and you felt on the inside. “I’ll go with you. I don’t want to be left alone.”

    “It’ll only take a second. Just try to relax.” He shrugged you off, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before disappearing into the crowd.

    You settled down onto the love seat, watching the crowd as they danced to a song blasting from an expensive looking radio. You didn’t notice Bryce approaching until he was already stretched out next to you, an arm thrown around your shoulders. He was manspreading to the point that you were forced to press uncomfortably against the arm of the seat.

    “Y/N, good to see you here,” he said, giving his trademark smile. “You never come to my parties.”

    You felt his hand sliding down over your shoulder, too close to your chest for comfort. You tried to move away but he tightened his grip.

    “I’m, um, here with someone,” you responded. “I should probably go find him.”

    “You mean Jeff?” he asked. “He’s way too nice for you. You need someone man enough to rough you up a little.” His hand had barely cupped your breast when you felt yourself being jerked to your feet.

    You felt a cool wave of relief flood through you when you looked up, finding Jeff glaring at Bryce with the prospect of murder in his eyes. “Do me a favor, and keep your hands off of my girlfriend.”

    Bryce threw his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t even know you were here together.”

    “You’re a liar,” you snapped. “You did know.”

    Jeff clenched his teeth, rolling up the sleeves of his varsity jacket. You slid your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, yanking him backwards as Bryce stood up.

    “Don’t you dare start a fight,” you whispered, hoping no one had noticed them yet. “Let’s just go, please.”

    Bryce smirked. “Better listen to your girl, Jeff.”

    Jeff spat on the carpet near Bryce’s feet, letting you pull him towards the door. “You better be glad she saved your ass, or I’d put you in the ground.”

    You didn’t let go of him until the two of you had made it outside and back into the car. Neither of you said a word for a long moment.

    Jeff was the first to break the silence, craning over the middle console to wrap his arms around you. He peppered a long row of kisses down your collarbone, right where Bryce’s hand had been.

    You laughed. “What are you doing?”

    He buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Getting rid of your Bryce cooties.”

Sunday Morning

Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved. Bucky x Reader 

 Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included) 

 Words: ~2900

Originally posted by writingandcoffeehouse

Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.

They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.

Five years of Sunday mornings, wasted.

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