#it's just stupid fucking adjectives! and stupid fucking words!

[elytrafemme]

what do i have to do for it to matter. people get medication and people get treatments and people get sympathy and people get explanations and people get diagnoses and people get to check all the boxes. it feels like my brain is physically forcing itself not to be too close to an explanation because at the last moment all symptoms will suddenly go away (i’m going to fucking kill Dahlia actually, because I think she’s the reason this keeps happening to me and even if she isn’t I’m just going to keep going until i find the bastard who is responsible). i go to therapy for five fucking years and nothing ever changes. it took whoever i was before this to fucking die before i could be split into this system and that was the most change we ever went through positively was someone fucking disappearing. 

oh mare you could have bipolar ... if your hypomanic periods were more rhythmic :/ or if the manias were worse lol :/ you could have psychosis but its not that bad :/ schizophrenia but you’re too “functional” you talk too “articulately” you’re never getting “anywhere” :/ you could have BPD but your life would be sooooo much more miserable mare and aren’t you happy :/ you could have CPTSD but you can’t even remember what happened to you can you? :/ 

I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. I’ve done EVERYTHING right I have been so much BETTER about recovery than anybody I have met in my entire fucking life and I get nothing for it. I go to every therapy session I do all the positive self talk I try not to be toxic to people I try EVERYTHING more than ANYBODY. and all I get? Nothing. I never get ANYTHING. 

[samubytheocean]

just making out with the boys.

Whatever love may be, at this moment he is in your arms. And oh, he is so pretty.

fluff, slightly suggestive if you’re in 5th grade or smth

You’re so in love. Sure, turned on, but before that, you’re so close to him. You want to be touched- a little bit closer, a little bit more directly- oh so desperately, but by only him. Everything else, even your own desires seem secondary. You want to be him. Some primal, instinctive thing you call love- hell whatever you call it- wanting all of your senses to be of him, to be in his skin, yeah. You’re in love with him.

You’re in his bed, the soft fabric smells like him. The prettiest boy in front of you, with his adorable messy hair and shirt all tugged. Revealing random patches of muscle either kissed, caressed or blushing. In the dim light, you only see the black through the feathering of his eyelashes. You can almost name each of it now. You’ve got such a tight grip on his chin, the heat when you move stays. Just like butter under hot knife, to him it feels like your touch will melt the skin, linger forever. No, he knows. He knows your grip will stay on him forever.

The sight almost makes you red. Or laugh. Or horny. Whatever it is, you brush the bruises on his skin, which at this point is yours. Yeah you did that. He is only yours. Honestly you don’t even have to look at the messy lipgloss remains on his cheeks to know that. His whole body is glowing with love for you, legs sprawled out and hands fidgeting on your outer thighs, the touch burning and downright dripping with sweat. But it’s sweet. He’s sweet. He really is. Like lemon meringue tart, or grapefruit ade, or cookie dough. Like apartment keys in a foreign city, like wine kissed rings and like two kids a dog- fuck you know you’re going insane right now. Drunk, stupid, irrational- yeah but you take the leap to name it as something else.

Love. That’s what you feel. As abstract as the concept is, at this moment you know the exact notion of it. In every sense, your heart recognizes it. As scary as saying you know something is, you don’t even care, because you feel him. He is right here, and he is loving on you. There’s no time tense attached to it. Just forever, yeah that stupid word, but yes forever, just you two forever. Verb, noun, adjective, whatever category of grammar love belongs to, fuck that because love is here. And love belongs to you.

He belongs to you.

And oh, he is so, so pretty.

AKAASHI, YAMAGUCHI, HINATA, BOKUTO, LEV, KITA, HIRUGAMI

YUUJI, YUTAAAAAA, CHOSO (dude yea choso), MEGUMI

ARMIN, and oh my, LEVI

[bidisastersanji]

Was thinking about French gendered terms and Zoro trying to suss out if Sanji’s into men and I had some thoughts and oops now i wrote a thing so here you go:

In the early days Zoro drives himself nuts trying to figure out if Sanji bats for his team too or not. He listens in intently whenever the conversation steers the cook towards talk of his past dalliances, but, just his luck, none of the words used indicate their gender. And there ain’t no fucking way in hell he’s asking him or anyone on the crew directly, lest they immediately understand how bad he has it for the stupid cook.

He bides his time, surely someday he’ll slip up and mention something about the people he’s slept with, right? And sure enough one day, at a feast, a drunken Usopp starts asking what people’s types are. His face still schooled into a nonchalant, neutral expression, he does his best to hide how desperately he waits for Sanji to speak up about his type, only to once again be met with more general terms about people- someone with a kind heart, dependable, an equal… he’s so concentrated on trying to pick out any gendered terms he doesn’t notice the weird look Nami throws his way at each new descriptor in Sanji’s list of desirable traits.

He’s always known Sanji speaks French, finding it endearing whenever the cook curses (even at him), whenever he goes into small little rants to himself, or the face he makes when he can only think of a word in French, rapidly snapping his fingers until it comes back to him. But it’s only when they get to a town where Sanji starts speaking to a vendor excitedly about his produce that he realizes just how much this thing, this endearing thing that’s always been there, truly affects him, and his face burns at how different the cook’s voice sounds when he actually speaks it, how enchantingly low and throaty the foreign syllables ring in his ears.

Attached to living another day, he decides that stealing a book from Robin is a bad idea, and resigns himself to ask her directly for a favour. He swallows his pride and asks if she can lend him a French learning book and a dictionary, curious as to whether he can learn it a bit, and understand whatever the hell Sanji keeps cursing and muttering about around him, and what kinds of insults he’s been throwing his way. With her ever mysterious smile plastered on her face, a chain of Robin’s arms retrieve two books from her library and hand them to him. “Do come to me if you have any questions, Mr. Swordsman. My French is pretty good if I do say so myself.”

He’s out of the room, red as a beet, before she even finishes that sentence.

Learning the curse words comes to him unsurprisingly quickly given how often he hears a litany of « putain de merde », « fait chier! » and « enfoiré! » spilling from the blonde’s distracting mouth.

He’s very happily surprised when he learns that French is apparently a heavily gendered language- and that he can glean someone’s gender just from whether the adjectives applied to the subject are masculine or feminine. Now if the stars aligned and the cook would talk about his love life in French…

Zoro starts by going through the basic first chapters, taking great pains to hide and quickly dissimulate it in his haramaki anytime someone walks in on him- especially the witch. It definitely changes his usual routine on his watch in the crows nest, he muses to himself.

Weeks, months pass, and he advances further in the lessons, his vocabulary slowly growing, while he often goes to his dictionary for the more… colorful insults Sanji throws his way. He never says a word of French himself, not knowing how he could even justify knowing any without looking suspicious, and pretty sure his pronunciation would be way off anyways. But he starts to really enjoy it, being able to understand even a tenth of the things Sanji thinks he can say without the crew (save Robin) understanding.

And then Saobaody happens. And now he doesn't have time to think about learning French, not if he wants to get strong enough. Not if he wants to protect his crew.

He's at the table with Mihawk and Perona when his mentor asks for the salt (Passez moi le sel, s'il vous plait), and he executes himself without thinking. A quiet settles over the room and he looks up to see those intense red eyes boring into him, unnerving as ever.

"You speak French?"

"Not really," he grumbles, not wanting more excuses to think of the shitty cook, and his shitty cooking, and his stupid curly brow.

"Then you will. Consider this a natural continuation of my trying to beat some manners into your brutish mind."

Two years later, and he can't wait for dartbrow to show up. His pronunciation may still be shit, but he can't wait to use his newfound skill to his advantage.

With his now solidified grasp of the language, he slowly begins to understand that what he at first though was a mistake on his part- that he must’ve missed a part of a sentence, or mixed up some words- was not an error at all. It turns out, some of the French things that Sanji yells at him aren’t insults at all.

In fact… they’re sometimes downright complimentary.

And that's definitely a problem for Zoro, who now not only needs to keep pretending that he doesn’t know what Sanji is saying, but needs to pretend he doesn’t understand it when Sanji screams at him that he has a “stupidly pretty face” or that his “tits are even bigger than Nami’s and how is that even fair” . He doesn't know what to make of it.

And then one day… the stars align.

It’s another post battle party, and the cook has been drinking a bit more than usual, a tightly gripped glass of wine in his left hand, a cigarette in his right. Zoro is nursing his very own barrel of Ale when he hears the conversation turn to more gossipy topics, as it usually does the further into the night they are.

“Chopper was really into that nurse on Zou, wasn’t he?” Usopp starts to poke fun at the crew’s youngest member, laughing as the reindeer turns all red and tries to deny it.

“I mean it makes sense that she’d be his type! Right Nami?”

Nami nods at him, grinning wickedly. “Yeah, not all of us can be into rich little blonde girls can we?”

“You’re right, some of us are into rich blue-haired princesses,” he shoots back.

"At least I had the balls to do something about it before I left her island-"

Zoro is already tuning them out when Sanji sits down next to Robin just a few feet away, across from him and the campfire, his tongue loosened from a few too many refills and unconsciously reverting to his native tongue.

"Ils ont de la chance, ces deux là." he gestures to Usopp and Nami. (They're lucky, these two.)

Robin smiles at the cook, wordlessly prompting him to continue his thoughts.

"Qu'est ce que je donnerais pour pouvoir avoir quelque chose de plus qu'un coup d'un soir." Sanji sighs wistfully, lighting his cigarette. (What I wouldn't give to have something more than a one night stand.")

Robin chuckles. "Ne sont-ils pas satisfaisants?" (Are they not satisfying?)

At this point Zoro has tuned everything out, intensely focused on hearing what the blonde has to say, and not at all feeling a small churn of jealousy in his stomach for whoever shared Sanji's bed. His heart initially skips a beat at the plural masculine pronoun ('ils') used by Robin before remembering its actual neutrality in this context, as it's referring to the ""one night stands", a masculine word. Damnit. French is so dumb.

"Tu sais bien que je ne dirais jamais de mal à propos des belles demoiselles qui ont bien voulu m'accorder ne serait-ce qu'un baiser ou une étreinte. J'ai de la chance rien que d'avoir pu exister en leur présence."

(You very well know I'd never say a bad word about any of the beautiful ladies who've been kind enough to give me even a kiss or an embrace. I'm lucky just to have existed in their presence.)

Zoro feels his heart drop, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. He's always known the pervert cook has been into women. Why was this confirmation hitting him the way it was? His eye darts up at his two crewmates, confirming that only Robin has noticed his eavesdropping. She opens her mouth to say something but Sanji continues, the glow of the flames dancing against his flushed skin beautifully.

"Et dans mon état normal tu sais que, par respect pour les sensibilités d'une dame, je ne te divulge pas beaucoup de détails sur ceux qui font l'affaire le temps d'une nuit. "

(And in my normal state you know that, out of respect for a lady's sensibilities, I don't divulge many details about those who do the trick for a night.)

Ceux. That's a masculine word for "those", isn't it? Zoro shakily takes another sip of his drink.

The archeologist's smile widens. "Oh, ne te fait pas de soucis pour mes sensibilités. Je brûle d'envie d'en savoir plus, et ne m'épargne pas les détails..."

(Oh, please don't worry about my sensibilities. I'm burning to know more, and don't spare me the details...)

"Je ne suis que ton humble serviteur...si ça peut te faire plaisir" (I'm but your humble servant…if it pleases you). Sanji's cheeks seem a tad more flushed than before. "En vrai ce n'est pas qu'ils ne sont pas satisfaisants...c'est qu'il ne sont jamais... assez."

(It's not that they're not satisfying…it's that they're never...enough.)

"Ah? Et que recherches tu? Qu'est ce qui serait..."assez"?"

(Ah? And what are you looking for? What would be… "enough"?)

The cook exhales another cloud of smoke, and nervously looks around. His eyes settle on Zoro, and indecision flits across his eyes for a second before continuing. Zoro can feel his gaze, can almost make out the deliciously unfocused expression on the blonde's face in his peripheral vision as he continues speaking French. His heart feels like it might beat out of his ribcage.

"Lui." (Him.)

Zoro forgets how to breathe.

Part 2 up now , and part 3 part 4

[tired-biscuit]

fem!reader // age gap; bakugou is in his early 30s, reader is in her 20s.

bakugou gives me “get off my lawn!” vibes.

i imagine him gardening in front of his new home in a quiet little neighbourhood that he’s moved into after a particular scandal — the idea recommended as a solution to easing his temper in one of his anger management classes that his friends had somehow managed to convince him to go to — when his wrath comes face to face with you for the very first time.

he’s kneeling in front of the little garden that’s situated underneath his living room window as he digs his hands into the soil, no gloves, and with dirt pushing underneath his fingernails so deep that he’ll only be able to scrub it out when he finally heads inside to take a shower later.

so, he’s tending to the small patch of soil. with his brow furrowed and his teeth repeatedly sinking into the inside of his cheek, the temporarily-retired pro hero is visibly trying so hard to not crumple the flowers that he’s spent ages fighting to keep alive in their little pots ever since the day his stupid therapist had instructed him to buy the seeds, put them on the windowsill, take care of them, and watch them grow just like the calmness and the ‘zen’ in him is supposed to, or whatever the fuck.

and sure enough, the little fuckers actually grew. they grew so big actually, that he now has to complete yet another pesky task, consisting of finding them a new spot where they can fully flourish before they can get the chance to overtake his entire window, bed, room, even him, perhaps.

grumbling under his breath, the raging blond feels somewhat proud as he stares at his little creations. i mean, who knew he had it in him? a proper green thumb; attached to the explosive, otherwise oftentimes murderous palm of katsuki fucking bakugou!

and speaking of murderous: the look on katsuki’s face is a near perfect example of the word as he goes to place the first plant into the little hole that he’s just finished digging up. with his crimson eyes dangerously narrowed, he watches intently how the petals bend, as well as the leaves, whilst he picks up the poor flower and starts transfering it from pot to soil.

luckily, neither break or tear under his thick fingers. he’s being gentle and delicate for a change — adjectives people would never describe him with at first glance, nor after getting to know him a little bit better. no, he’s a grump through and through, and the focus in his head is so high now, in fact, that it even causes a wrinkle to etch itself deep into the middle of his forehead, accentuating the previous statement even further.

but that grump in him really manages to shine through the moment a football suddenly appears out of nowhere and knocks over one of the pots he’s brought outside only minutes prior.

tink! — a thin little crack appears on one side of the pot, now. bakugou, holding his breath without even realizing it, watches as it spreads through the glazed ceramic. the flower lays limply on the concrete step beside the garden that it’s just been knocked into. it had been his favourite one of the plants, the petals were so pretty and in a gorgeous shade of orange, but he can’t dwell on it; not when the crack is still spreading.

it’s spreading, spreading, spreading. just like the anger that bubbles within him.

tink, tink, crack! — the pot is chipped. a little piece of it crumbles off and falls onto the step.

oh, no. it’s ruined. it’s all ruined and the perfectionist in him is screaming.

and fuck, red fury swoops upon bakugou’s mind like a hawk at that. it’s such a small thing, a mere accident, but he just can’t help it; life’s been hard as of late. with his jaw clenched and all anger management lessons forgotten, he grabs the football and tightens his hold around it with both hands until he can feel the sparks dancing on his palms. until he can feel the warmth start to radiate from them.

the heat makes the synthetic leather hiss. it tingles, from his hands, all over his body. he hasn’t indulged in his quirk in such a long time. it feels good, even if the emotions that now plague and storm his outraged mind are awfully bitter.

and as for rage…

“are you fucking kidding me?!” his voice booms through the air as he pushes up to his full height in one swift, scary movement. “you stupid, brainless brats; how many fuckin’ times have i told you not to play he—”

it’s not often that katsuki stops in his tracks mid-sentence — especially in the midst of such a venomous one, at that — but the moment he whirls around and lays his eyes on you, deadly silence falls.

i mean, how can he not turn quiet? jesus on a cross, there’s a girl standing in front of him now, instead of a kid or an old lady. an actual girl, and she’s fucking gorgeous.

dressed in comfortable shorts, a cute crop top that shows just a sliver of your stomach, and colourful, almost childish flip-flops, your skin looks like it’d be warm to the touch if he were to stroke it. the sunshine that blazes above you on this hot summer’s day, causes sweat to glimmer in a layer so thin on your forehead. it makes the little hairs that frame your pretty face curl because of the way they’re turning damp with salt. makes the side of your neck have a certain sheen to it as well.

bakugou’s head cocks to the side as he assesses you further. sure, it’s hot out, however the heat doesn’t seem to be the main reason as to why you look so appealingly disheveled. after all, you’re inhaling and exhaling fast, and your shoulders are rising and falling even quicker as you seem to be trying to catch your breath.

did you run all the way over here?

“sorry… hi! lemme just… ah… catch my breath for a quick second… gosh.” he blinks at the sound of your voice as you raise your hand in apology before resting both of them onto your knees and bending over at the middle. your demeanor almost seems sheepish when you look up at him from underneath your lashes, still trying to ease your breathing. “i’m so, so, so sorry for your flowers, mister dynamight, sir…! my little brother kicked the football way too hard as we were playing a game he made up, so i just… i, uh, i ran over here to apologize on his behalf, and to… get the ball back.”

katsuki quirks a brow as he lets his gaze fall to the football he still holds in his hands, and for which you’re so clearly asking to get back, now. he knows the kid who you’re referring to as your brother — an especially irritating little menace that’s been sucking his blood through a goddamn straw, with all the pranks he and the group of brats he calls his friends have been initiating on his property as of late.

and sure enough, when he looks over your shoulder, the little shit is nowhere to be found.

the thought of the kid continuously stepping on his nerves for the last few weeks angers him in a flash, making his grip on the football tighten and start to smoulder; it makes smoke spiral in thin lines underneath his fingertips. though, when he lifts his gaze and lets his eyes land on you again — on that stupidly pretty, sweaty face of yours — bakugou surprisingly feels that white-hot rage somewhat disippating bit by bit.

hand to heart, he’s intrigued by you. you don’t seem to mind being in his presence, despite the fact that you seem to know fully well who exactly he is. and if you know that, then you’re surely familiar with the rumours and gossip that never cease to follow a big name like his. as well as the public announcement, talking about his — forced — temporary retirement from the hero business, because of the consistently violent outbursts he had failed to tame over the years.

for fuck’s sake, the dynamight is your neighbour, and you seem to be outright unbothered by it. it’s peculiar as fuck.

and it’s also the reason why the only thing he grunts out now, is, “you’re new.”

“i’m sorry?” that surprises you. your brief confusion is evident in the way you straighten, as well as how your own head lightly tilts so that you can look at him properly for the first time ever since you’ve stepped foot on the patch of land he should be calling home.

“you’re new,” he repeats simply, jerking his chin towards your direction and pointing the football at you. “i haven’t seen ya ‘round here before.”

“oh—ohh…” there it is; a wonderful smile appears on your otherwise pouty lips as you smack your forehead in realization. “yeah; that totally makes sense! i came back home just a couple of days ago to spend summer break with my family, so that’s probably why you haven’t seen me around yet.”

summer break. so you must be still in college? it’s not odd that you’re still a student, with a tight body like that, clothes so revealing and scarce, and a face that just screams youth, youth, youth. adding it all together, bakugou catches himself feeling not all that thrown off by the fact that you’re in school, pursuing a degree.

at least you have a goal in life. unlike him, and his stupid gardening.

nevertheless, he gives you a curt nod and tries to tame the flutter of a muscle in his cheek as he hands you back the ball he’d considered melting with his quirk just moments before. he’s still so angry because of the pot.

it held his favourite flower, goddammit.

“you’re new here, too,” you chime as you take the ball from his hands. “i know you weren’t here the last time i came to visit… i’d remember a man like you if he were living across the street from me.”

he isn’t entirely sure if you actually don’t see it, or you simply turn a blind eye towards the dirt and the branding that he’s now burned into the ball with his fingers, but both choices seem just dandy to bakugou as he watches you grin up at him, now. so cutesy.

“moved in a couple of months ago,” he explains briefly, clearing his throat and wiping his hands against his black gym shorts. he has to wash them later anyway; what’s a little bit of sweat and dirt? “been sort of… startin’ over, hah.”

you could call it that, all right.

you give him a knowing look, but don’t say anything about the article that had covered the first page of nearly every newsletter in the country not a while back.

dynamight retires at the young age of 33 after yet another savage misdemeanor! read more below!

no, instead you say, “well, that’s nice. i certainly hope that you’ve adjusted and that our little neighbourhood has been treating you well, mister dynamight, sir.”

that last word… did you say it like that; so softly, almost purring, the first time, too?

“i suppose i did,” he answers, feeling a heat that he can’t blame on the late afternoon sun start to crawl up his neck. it’s not intense enough to make him blush, per se, but it is enough to tint the tips of his ears a light pink. damn, it sure has been a while if a mere tone has got him acting like this.

your smile grows bigger as you notice the faint change of shade. it makes your face beam. “i know it’s quaint compared to the city, but i’m sure you’ll learn to like it.”

he watches you turn so that you can head back to your house, inside of which your menace of a little brother is surely hiding, and he can’t help but eye you up from head to toe again, well, heel. the back of you is just as stunning as your front is, he’s dragging his eyes all over; that is until you whip your head to the side so that you can look at him over your shoulder.

“oh, and mister dynamight?”

“what?” he calls out. you’ve already reached the sidewalk.

“i really am sorry about your flower pot. i’ll buy you a new one, if you’ll let me,” you say, waving. “just don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

katsuki doesn’t answer. he wants to say a million things all at once, to agree, to deny, whatever. to tell you to call him katsuki, or at least bakugou; that he hasn’t been called dynamight in a while and hasn’t felt like him either for a long while, too. to ask you what your name is, because he’s just realized he’s never got it. to try shooting his shot, or just talk, talk, talk because he’s lonely, he’s been feeling oh, so very lonely ever since moving here.

but all he does instead, is raise his hand and wave.

[shamixlour]

The Bear - 3x10

This scene was a masterpiece and obviously horrendously tragic at the same time and that for multiple reasons. 

For a little context, we're at EVER restaurant, funeral diner, everyone is having lots of fun and we get a glimpse of Sydney in the middle of her peers. She fits perfectly in, participates in the conversations, entertains and definitely grasps the heart of the people around the table AND YET you have Carmy totally absent. He is the one who invited her and he is not present, he is not here. Instead, he keeps staring down at his old chef two tables away. He keeps staring, dissociates himself completely from his environment and doesn’t interact at all with his old cuisine acquaintances. At first, no one really pays attention or at least you are pushed to think so until Luca asks him if he’s okay and remarks that Carmys is staring. Sydney finds an opportunity in this to ask herself and note that he is indeed staring and wonders who he is staring at. Carmy, eyes still locked on the Chef David Fields from Empire tells them and this is the only moment he interacts with the people around him. Right then and he starts painting the Chef’s portrait to Luca and Sydney.

Carmy : He's the fucking worst and one of the best Chefs in the world. Luca: Well, he used to be one of the best chefs in the world. Carmy: Total prick. Fuckface. The bastard made me very, probably mentally ill. Dead inside. Cold. Never turns it off. Accomplishes more by 10am than most people do in a lifetime. Sydney: "looks over Carmy gravely" Carmy: I don't think he sleeps. I don't think he eats. I don't think he loves. He hates black pepper for some reason I will never understand and he is getting up. Luca: Carm. Carmy. Sydney: Carm. Carmen.

The thing is, each word Carmy uses to define that Chef Fields is, imho, just another adjective to describe who Carmy is as a Chef himself.

I hated that moment. I did not like hearing him describe that man because with each syllables that split through his mouth, I realised that the person Carmy was supposedly describing, that horrible, vicious, toxic, controlling and overly awful Chef that had no heart, no empathy, no source of humanity left in him and destroyed him was in fact Carmy himself.

I felt like he was describing himself and it broke my heart because truly, what he showed of himself in the Bear’s kitchen this season 3 was just that. 

A cold, controlling, harsh and judgmental Chef. 

Someone that would not hesitate to crumble the ounce of confidence left in you (poor Tina) if you don’t meet his standard. Someone who would not respect you if you don’t reach his fucking stupid non negotiables. Someone who would say snarky comments at you, sometimes full of disdain and haughty, implying that he is better than you. 

That is because I am better than you. That is because I have more skills. That is because you’re not good enough, you’re not excellent enough, you are not like me.

Carmy said shouted that to everyone throughout season 3. He did not care and that regardless of the history between them, regardless of the obvious efforts of the past, of the growth of each person in that kicthen. He did not give a single fuck of the looks of panic, of the shaking voice of Tina, of the dead glare of Sydney, of the feelings of distress.

No, Carmy was cold.  He was just cold. A total prick. A fuckface. Demanding. Hard. Full of himself despite his failures. Arrogant and condescending. Ready to crush you mentally if you don't meet his expectations. He did not care. He did not sleep. He did not love.

That was Carmy of season 3 and I hated it.

I despised hearing him describe that Chef, watching him stand up and run after that man to tell him fuck you when Carmy became exactly fucking THAT. It was so tragic and sad and SO fucking hypocritical at the same time and I fear that Carmy was slightly aware, deep down within him. He knows what that man says to him is true, maybe he even knows the monster he described to Syd and Luca was himself and maybe that is why he cries in that corridor because Chef Fields confirms that to him in a way.

I made you excellent. I made you. You became me. One of the best chefs in the world. We are the same so you are welcome.

Carmy was okay. He left excellent but at what price?

-

I also wanna point out something during Carmy's depreciating monologue regarding Chef Fields. Not only Sydney stared at him gravely all along, the words resonating maybe a bit too much but also Luca said something I found interesting.

He said "well, he used to be one of the best chefs in the world." and I could not dissociate this from Carmy himself, from him maybe not being one of the best chefs in the world either if he continues like that, if he doesn't step away from the Chef he is now, if he doesn't go back to a track where he wants to get better, where he listens, teach and love and eat and sleeps and is alive.

-

If you read all of this, heart on you <3 let me know your thoughts, future meta about ep 3 is coming soon hehe~

[gomu-fer]

Takes two to tango

Law x fem!reader

Warnings: SFW very feminine reader all dressed up using fem adjectives and such

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: In which Law meets you at a gala

Masterlist

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Fuck

Is all The Captain of the Heart Pirates can think of when he spots you form the other side of the gathering

Law had planned this strike for weeks. You were a really infamous informant amongst the pirates of the grand line, and he needed information that by no doubt you possessed. When he heard about your probable attendance to this stupid gala he knew this was his last chance for him to get closer to you and maybe, you’ll be benevolent enough to gift him the precious information he needed so desperately

But it wasn’t part of the plan for you to be so damn beautiful

As handsome and determined as he felt, The Surgeon of Death now finds himself a nervous wreck, butterflies going wild in his stomach and a tremble in his movements, his face coloring red and warmth irradiating from his cheeks. You had an enchanting aura that had him itching to be anywhere near you, get closer to admire your sparkling eyes adorned by a dark liner making your gaze sharp, your soft hair sitting in the frame of your face alike a porcelain doll; he’d pay any berry to hear your laugh, he bets its just delightful, mixing with the warm low lights of the place and your confident presence alongside the crowd that had long faded when he saw you. The dress hugged your figure in all the perfect ways, matching with your dark lipstick on your plump lips that made you look like an empress of the sea, you looked otherworldly, a dazzling starlet, absolutely stunning

He was running out of words to describe you as he admired you from afar

Law curses once again, his confidence leaving his body as he finds the will to just go and speak to you without stuttering or combusting

Suddenly you are on the move, walking towards the champagne table that was conveniently situated just besides Law’s. Before he stands up, he spots Penguin and Bepo making a thumbs up and smiling encouragingly some tables in front of his, he sighs and just goes for it, how hard could this be anyway?

Before he can even say hello, he hears a giggle scape your dark lips alongside a smirk

“Well, well, well if it isn’t Trafalgar Law” he freezes, breath hitching caught redhanded as you turn his way, gazes meeting and Law swears he has died and gone to haven when he gets your attention. You stay ogling each other as you sip on your drink, he seems to have forgotten how to talk or form any thought, remaining spell bound

You step closer and closer, stopping just when your mouth meets one of his ears “What do you want, Captain?”

A shiver runs up and down his spine electrifying his tall form, you take a step back and smirk at the flushed pirate, he clears his throat as he pulls his suit in place

“Didn’t knew I was being that obvious” you laugh and he can’t help the pride that swirls in his chest at the thought of him being the reason for your heavenly laugh echoing through the room

“Word says you’ve been looking for me… what’s got you so desperate?” In a sly move you hand him your drink before slipping away between the tables and the ton. He sets it down in a hurry, his feet move faster than his mind and suddenly he has you by your wrist pulling you closer to the dance floor, prying eyes and whisperings all around you

“Guess now we gon’ have to dance”

Everything blurred the moment you pulled Law closer to you and swayed around the rhythm of the piano and violins. Your expensive perfume, soft touches, the sound of your heels clicking and your jewelry tickling invaded his senses, he didn’t even knew how to dance but suddenly that didn’t mattered anymore. The doctor followed your steps all around the dance floor like a moth to a flame, his golden eyes burning trough you. When your face’s would be just too close you’d smile before pulling away in a spin, teasing the poor Captain

And he was eating it up

Time flew by as he got lost in the music and the excellent company, as you spin around yet again, in the corner of his eye he sees Bepo making confusing signs and moving his paws frantically to make him look. He comes back to himself and in a sudden brave move he presses your body againts his, hand on your waist firmly staring at your orbs hoping you’ll freeze, to his luck you do

For the first time in the night he can feel you tense against his touch, your eyes open wide but not opposing to the gesture

“I’m here on business” Law whispers but keeps his tone stern enough, swaying both of you out of the center of the room

“Too bad, would’ve love a drink with you Mr. Trafalgar” you look up to his now serious face making you pout, hesitant you sit at the nearest table sighing as he does the same

“You’re not easy to find”

“And I would like it to stay that way” you scan the room, taking note of the mink and the man with a hat glancing your way, silently planning on your fastest escape, locating the exits

Law extends you a bag with berry before he asks the information he had been looking for, and you oblige

To his surprise you didn’t seemed to want to hide or keep anything he may need to yourself, making the conversation way more easy to navigate. After you answer all of his questions and he’s about to get up the table, you grab his tattooed hand, depositing the berry bag on it and closing it back

“Keep it handsome - you wink.- consider this a favor” It had been long when you learned to never owe or trust a pirate, but you needed an excuse to see him again

If there was a god, Law would be in debt with them forever for making you so bold. Now he was graced with your hands on his and your longing gaze praying he’d catch up, and he did almost immediately, reading the want behind your touches and gazes and he can’t help but to smirk at the fact

Torturously slowl, he lowers his lips to grasp your ear mimicking your action from moments prior, loving the intoxicating sensation “Trust me I’d be keeping that favor sweetheart, thank you” and you let go

You part ways for the night but best believe, you would remain engrained on that mans mind until you see each other again and he prays is sooner than later

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Idk what possessed me I enjoyed it tho

[lolokouhm]

pt.2 is out!

"Could you rail me?"

That's not something Megumi expects to hear at 10 p.m. Especially coming from you. 

You're drenched - that's the first thing he notices. It's been raining the whole day, pouring even, making early autumn weather even gloomier than it usually is. You don't have an umbrella and the light jacket you put on yourself earlier in the morning looks completely out of place - it doesn't even have a hood to hide under. Or maybe it's not the jacket that feels off? Maybe that's just you.

You, the one who is always prepared. You, the one who is always put together. You, the one who, as far as he's concerned, should be in the cinema on a date with your boyfriend right now. A dickhead boyfriend, Megumi makes a mental note. He couldn't bring himself to like the guy, but as long as that idiot treated you right, he wasn't really in a place to say anything. But apparently, something has changed. 

"Could you rail me?"

Yeah, something has definitely changed.

Megumi doesn't really say anything as you get inside - your every movement is showing how furious you are, and it’s not like Fushiguro's not used to people with bad temper, it's just you're not one of them. He's never seen you like this before and, combining the situation with that question you’ve asked him twice, he's taken by surprise. That gets him thinking. Something must have happened, and judging by your face...

Then he notices. The smudged mascara, the barely visible traces on you cheeks, and your red, puffy, eyes.

You cried.

Megumi has seen you in various mental states, but never furious - and most importantly, never crying, so he couldn't possibly have any idea how seeing you like that would make him feel. He knows now. 

He'll kill him. 

"Come on, you need to take a hot shower, or you'll get sick", he finally says, his voice sounding surprisingly normal and calm. He's relieved - all these years of hiding his emotions and not letting them surface have at least some perks. Looking at your state, you need something - someone - to calm you down, and Megumi won’t let himself lose control just over his imagination and groundless jealousy. You need to tell him what happened first. 

So when you’re finally out of the shower, your hair still damp, drowning in his cotton, black T-shirt, Megumi is waiting in the kitchen - and he needs you to speak.

„He cheated on me.” It falls from your lips, light as a feather, and these words do something to him. Something that could have very bad consequences. „We broke up. But it doesn’t even hurt. I… I am so fucking stupid.” You’re not crying anymore - there’s a fire in your eyes that Megumi has never seen before. 

„He’s the one that’s stupid.” That is probably the nicest adjective out of many others he has on his mind right now. He observes you carefully as you adjust yourself on a high hocker next to him. 

„No, I am. I…” You sigh, hiding your face in your hands. „I didn’t cry because he broke my heart. That’s the problem. He didn’t.” That’s a relief, but Megumi’s still not convinced. His brows furrow, as he’s trying to understand what exactly has happened. „I was crying because I don’t fucking understand myself.” Your gaze suddenly jumps on him and the intensity of it makes him gulp. „That’s why I want you to rail me.” Before he can form a coherent answer to that, you speak up again. „I think I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings. And that makes me a cheater, because I went into a relationship knowing that. Or at least suspecting that.”

So many things Megumi didn’t expect to hear tonight.

He just stares at you, not sure, whether his heart is racing or it’s completely stopped beating. You’re blushing, but at the same time doesn’t look embarrassed. Despite that cute pink tone on your cheeks, you seem determined, and he’s not sure what he should do about it. 

„Or you can say you won’t”, you suddenly speak up again. The eye contact is so intensive, to the point it physically hurts. „You can say that and I’ll see if it breaks my heart. It’ll be easie-”

„I won’t rail you.” It jumps out of him faster than he’s able to process it, and his heart drops as your face turns pale. 

„Okay. It hurts. So this is a crush after all.” You stand up suddenly and rush somewhere - his apartament isn’t big, but the embarrassment hits you like a truck and you just need to hide. Or die. 

„How the fuck do you expect me to rail you?” Nervousness in Megumi’s voice makes you turn around. He’s got up from his seat as well, his worried expression long forgotten - now he just looks angry. „I’ve had sex like three times before. Fuck”, he sighs, pinching his nose bridge. As if that ever helped somebody to focus. He doesn’t have any other options though. „Jesus, (Y/N). You can’t just say these things like that. Why can’t you just like… say that you have a crush on me? At least I’d know how to answer”, Megumi murmurs and now you’re confused. 

He cannot comprehend the fact that you haven’t noticed. Everyone noticed. Itadori, Nobara, Gojo - everyone. Even he himself noticed. The gradual changes in your friendship, the staring, the smiles that cost him way more than anyone else, and yet he would give you them for free. The jealousy that came few months ago - with you being asked out, taken on dates, kissed. The irritation. And eventually, the nights where he would be so hard and frustrated, and the only cure seemed to be a memory of you. Of your skin. Of your touch. He was sure when your name left his lips that one particular night - he let his imagination run freely, and it sprinted to the point where he imagined it was your hand going up and down on his dick. He panicked a bit, that night. Your friendship was more valuable than anything else. He couldn’t risk it. 

So he endured. 

And now this?

That’s not fair. You play dirty. You asked that fucking question three times and now he’s sexually frustrated and stressed beyond what’s humanly possible. He tried so hard, gritted his teeth, tossed and turned - and you just destroyed everything. 

So when Megumi comes up to you to catch your face in his hands, you can feel his anger. And a million other things that convince you, that yes, Megumi Fushiguro could rail you without any doubt. He kisses you - and the kiss tastes like longing, like desperation, like something more, than just „liking”. Like…

„He was first”, he murmurs, as he pulls away, just millimetres, but enough to be able to say what he needs to say. His long, slender fingers rest on both sides of your face, the right thumb delicately brushing you cheek. A feeling completely different from that sudden kiss.

„What?” You feel a bit hazy and so does he.

„And you were always so happy… I just couldn’t…”, he mutters, running with his gaze when the embarrassment hits him. He curses himself for wearing that black sweater tonight, it’s so hot he cannot stand it - especially when your hands land on his covered chest.

„I was happy because I was with you, you dumbass!” You moan, and even though it’s not sexual at all, Megumi can’t help but groan. You are intoxicating. „I thought you didn’t like me… So I tried to…” You’re interrupted as he pulls you for another kiss, even more needy than the first one. And you suddenly forget what you wanted to say.

Megumi still remembers, but he needs you. If that’s a dream, then he just hopes he’s not going to wake up. Luckily for him, the way his body reacts is more biological than ever and that gives him some hope. 

„You tried to…?” 

„I tried to fall in love with someone else.” 

„You’re stupid then.” His lips travel down your neck as he’s leaving slow, sensual kisses all over it. You grip tightens on his forearm, nails diving between the sweater’s weaves just to find his skin underneath. You had no idea Megumi could kiss like that, and when his fingers slide down your collarbone, you find out that you had no idea that he could touch you like that either. „If you talked to me, we’d save a lot of time.”

„You could have said something too”, you whisper, and the combination of stress, anxiety and bliss makes your legs go weak. Luckily, Megumi’s here, and his arm keeps you in place. „You never say anything. And I…” A little whine interrupted you as his teeth grazed over your paper thin skin. „I don’t know how you feel.”

„You really can’t see it?”

„I need you to say it. I can say it. I’m in love with you, Megumi”. Is it really your voice, or are the angels singing? He could swear he got the chills. „Please.”

Years of hiding. Years of not saying anything. Years of keeping his feelings hidden. All that, just for him to make a confession.

„I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” It’s shaky, it’s soft and it’s quiet, falling into your skin and melting into your soul - something you needed so desperately. And that’s enough. 

You need to see him, so you cup his face into your hands, and the picture leaves you in awe - his soft cheeks are flushed, blue eyes shining with desire. It’s so unlike him, and the fact that you’ve actually managed to pull these words out of him shows how desperate he is.

„You can let go” you whisper, before pulling him for another kiss. „Don’t overthink it. Just… let go.” 

Who knows - he might rail you after all. 

masterlist ❤️

[rubberduckyrye]

All right let's talk about what it means to Trick Someone because I'm full of Salt.

Here is the definition of "trick":

trick /trĭk/

noun

An act or procedure intended to achieve an end by deceptive or fraudulent means. synonym: wile. Similar: wile

A mischievous action; a prank. "likes to play tricks on the other students in the dorm."

A stupid, disgraceful, or childish act. "Don't let the kids pull any tricks while we're gone."

A peculiar trait or characteristic; a mannerism.

A peculiar event with unexpected, often deceptive results.

A deceptive or illusive appearance; an illusion. "This painting plays tricks on the eyes."

And for good measure, let's see what "fraudulent" means since I'm going to assume everyone here knows what "deception" means:

fraudulent /frô′jə-lənt/

adjective

Engaging in fraud; deceitful.

Characterized by, constituting, or gained by fraud. "fraudulent business practices."

Using fraud; tricky; deceitful; dishonest. Similar: tricky deceitful dishonest

So when people insist that Gonta was "tricked", they are trying to say he was fooled or deceived into Killing Miu. This, in turn, means that Gonta Must Not have Known what he was Doing, as being "tricked" into doing something means to be deceived. AKA, if he knew that Killing Miu was going to kill her, then he was not deceived, and thusly, not tricked.

Oh, but wait--

Alter Ego Gonta doesn't exclaim that he didn't know Miu had died, or that he didn't realize his actions would lead to Miu's death--He knew that his actions would kill her. He was surprised that his real self knew that he had murdered, and that surprised him, because Kokichi was supposed to take the fall for Gonta. They weren't SUPPOSED to know that Gonta killed Miu. That's why he's devastated/disappointed that they (He and Kokichi) failed.

To continue:

Gonta literally admits to killing Miu because he knew no one else wanted to. He knew that no one else would want to kill to Mass Mercy Kill the rest of the class, so he took that burden upon himself as a sort of twisted self-sacrifice.

I love how Kokichi spells it out that he told Gonta they should mercy kill everyone and yet this detail gets swept under the damn rug all the damn time--

But that is not the point so I am moving on

HUZZAH. The man himself, everyone.

Hmmmmmmm! Sure sounds like a motive rather than a deception if you ask me--

Gee this is sure awkward dialogue for a deception. Because it sounds like Gonta had the motive to kill everyone. Because he thought Hell was all around them, and living in hell sounded like a fate worse than death.

Interesting development here though:

"When I saw the flashback light my first thought was 'It would be easier to die'." That is what Gonta said before--and then he suggests that he had all of those other thoughts after that first thought--like that it's hell inside, it's hell outside, it would just be easier for them all to die, and this was BEFORE Kokichi even said a word to convince Gonta.

Gonta was already on the same damn page before Kokichi even spoke.

And when everyone was demanding Gonta to tell them the truth?

He did that all on his own. No influence from Kokichi. He said that he couldn't tell anyone the truth, because if he did, they they would all feel the horrible despair he was feeling.

Like if you hate Kokichi? Fine. If you can't stand him? Whatever.

But. Stop. Saying. He. Tricked. Gonta.

You are being ableist as FUCK and removing one of Gonta's best character development moments--of his kindness twisting and warping into a motive for murder.

Gonta is not a damn child. He knows what killing means. He knows that him killing Miu means she would fucking die. That was his aim! That was his GOAL! He wanted to kill Miu to mass mercy kill the class! He wanted to kill them all before they felt the same despair he and Kokichi felt!

Even if you don't believe me on Kokichi's motivation lining up with Gonta can you at LEAST acknowledge that Gonta is very blatantly talking about his own motivations and was convinced of this himself? That this was his motive to kill? That he is a tragic character who was so twisted by grief and despair that he thought death was the only salvation?

Can you like.

Consider this for one second? Please???

[sweetnsour1]

9:36:08

Fluff, Bakugou x female reader

Part 8 of Broken Collection

Annoying.  

Rude. 

Aggressive.  

Loud. 

Mean. 

Rough. 

Just a sampling of the words people who knew him, and those who didn’t, would use to describe him. Just stupid words that shouldn’t bother him at all. They didn’t usually. He struggled to remember the last time they had. Depending on the context, he sometimes took the descriptors as compliments. They were just pinpointed opinions on moments he stood by. 

He wanted to make sure something was done right, so if he had to get annoying about it that was perfectly acceptable.  

He needed to be clear about getting someone to safety, so if he had to be rude with how he ordered them around that was understandable.  

He couldn’t be anything less than his best, so if he had to show some aggression in his fight to reach that...how could he regret it? 

Loud, mean, and rough...those just seemed like adjectives used by people who were a little too sensitive. Maybe they should worry more about themselves than what he was doing or how he was doing it. 

At the end of the day, they were all just words. Words that didn’t reach him...not really. And yet, here he was fucking tip-toing around, trying to avoid landing on any of them in front of you. He didn’t know for sure what words he would prefer to be floating around in your head when you thought of him, but he knew which ones he wanted to avoid.  

And he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask you if it was too late to keep those thoughts out of your head. That was just too desperate. He buried that small part of him that knew the real reason he would never ask you...you would never lie to him to spare his feelings. He was definitely not afraid, but he was unprepared to confirm that even you saw him that way. All he could bring himself to do was try as hard as he could to not fuck this up more than it already was. 

And that was gonna’ start with him deciding what the fuck to wear. He ran a hand through his still-wet hair and glared down at the embarrassing pile of fucking clothes on his bed. He’d long since thrown his phone towards the problem, losing it in the process. Kirishima’s voice now came from the midst of the growing mountain, describing another top that could possibly go with the pants he still had on from his last suggestion.  

“I’m just gonna’-” 

“You CANNOT wear sweats, man.” 

“Who fuckin’ asked you?”

“You did.”

He ignored the laughter that followed him as he stomped back into his emptying closet.

Next part

Masterlist

[gyumibear]

💖 create a sim(p)! — 25: rough

synopsis ��� after stupidly claiming on stream that you’ve been dating popular youtuber choi beomgyu in secret after accidentally creating an identically looking sim, you beg him not to reveal your lie to the public when it goes viral. weirdly, he agrees and you two begin to fool the public. can your lie become the truth or will it eventually catch up with you?

prev / masterlist / next

warnings — swearing + heavy angst, bad coping mechanisms, yn's not thinking things through. allusions to “suicide”, but there’s no suicide. (wc: ~1.4k)

It was like time had stopped.

Your eyes were glued to the screen in front of you, the blue light reflected in your eyes. Long had the screen gone black, evidence of the ended stream in front of you. You could vaguely feel Yeonjun’s presence next to you, but the ringing in your ears subjected you to only be able to stare forward. 

Why. Why? Why?!

Beomgyu. Why would he- why? It was so hard to fathom; what could he have been thinking? Did he really think everything would be fixed after that? That everything wouldn’t fall apart even more than it already had?! Now, you were off even worse than before.

He was selfish.

So unbelievably selfish. Because he couldn’t ‘keep up the charade.’ No. He wasn’t selfish. He was a fucking liar. A manipulator. Going out of his way to make sure that everything would leave him looking like the victim. The way he worded the stream, blaming everything on you. The fake dating had been your idea, yes, but he was just as involved! He didn’t have to agree! He could’ve fucking said no! No, he only sold you out because… Because… Because?

You didn’t know.

“Hey…” Warmth enveloped your torso, Yeonjun’s strong, assuring arms wrapping around you. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.”

You just let him drag you along, not having the mental capacity to fight back.

He released you when you plopped into the barstool of the hotel’s island counter. Crossing behind the other side of the island, he reached into the fridge to find something. You didn’t know what. You weren’t exactly focused on the black-haired model in front of you. You were too occupied calling Beomgyu every negative adjective conceivable in your head.

A crisp bottle of water slid in front of you, your eyes unfocused on its shape.

“You should drink this. Tears cause dehydration, you know…” Yeonjun spoke softly from somewhere in the room.

You were crying? You hadn’t noticed.

“I’m really sorry, Yn…” He kept speaking, barely making it past the ringing. “He’s so… Stupid.”

Stupid was an understatement.

“How bad is it?” Your own strained voice.

“How bad is what?”

“The backlash… Am I trending?”

“I don’t know… Don’t worry about that right now.”

“What am I supposed to worry about then, Jun? My career… Shit, what am I supposed to do to fix it? Everyone thinks I’m a liar. A user.”

“Not everyone.” Arms again around your body, you nuzzled your back into his chest. “We can fix this.”

“We?” You asked. “Jun, you don’t have to help me. We barely know each other.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’re my friend… And this is sort of my fault.”

No. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but Beomgyu’s.

“If I hadn’t gotten so close to you–”

“Can we talk about something else… I just– My head is pounding.”

A lie. You currently felt nothing. But, you didn’t want Yeonjun to have to dwell on feelings that were not his fault. Nobody was to blame for this, but Beomgyu. He was the problem. He was the cause.

“Drink your water.” He scolded you lightly, “I told you tears cause dehydration…”

–

“We came straight here.” Soobin stepped into view before your vision became obscured.

Kai threw himself at you, his familiar hold making you tear up once again. He squeezed you firmly, but not enough to hurt. Just enough to comfort. He murmured apologies, ones he shouldn’t be making, holding you as you’d disappear into the ground if he let go of you just for a second. You had a feeling he’d be mother-henning you for the next few days if he wasn’t stopped. 

You didn’t think you’d argue against that. Not right now anyway.

“Thank you for taking care of her.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” Yeonjun responded in kind, “You must be Soobin.”

Soobin nodded, pointing slightly in your direction. “And that’s Kai.” 

When Kai finally let you breathe, you pulled back enough to see that his eyes were red. Probably matching yours. But his face wasn’t streaked with tears, not like yours. That led you to the conclusion that he probably hadn’t slept since the stream came out. Oh, Kai…

“Ning, have you slept?” 

“No. How could I?” He pursed his lips before speaking again. This time not to you. “What do we do?”

“We go home,” Soobin shrugged. “We kick that… We kick him out. Then you and Yn get some rest.”

You and Kai nodded solemnly, both not wanting to argue.

“I hate to ask, but can I come? I feel like I and Beomgyu have a lot to talk about.”

“Mm.. ‘s up to you.” Soobin shrugged again. “As long as he gets out of my house.”

You felt like the next few hours might take some years off your life.

–

Coward.

He was a coward. That was what your mind told you when the four of you had made it to your front door. The house was intact, doors locked securely. But… There was a sticky note, most likely from your room, left right dab smack in the middle of the door. It read: I’m sorry. I took all my stuff and I got a motel. I know you don’t want to speak with me, that’s okay. I’ll be going home soon anyway.

“Well, that’s that I guess.” Yeonjun broke the silence, all of you turning to look at him.

“Maybe it’s better off this way.” Soobin turned to unlock the door for you all. “I don’t think anyone was really ready for a confrontation.”

You stumbled into the apartment behind him, Kai and Yeonjun taking up the rear. Everything inside was normal too. Nothing out of place or taken, not that you thought he would steal. However, you thought bitterly to yourself, you thought Beomgyu wouldn’t do a lot of things. Clearly, this time of you getting to know him was a waste. God, you had the worst case of judgment sometimes.

“So what now?”

The boys started chatting, trying to figure out the next move. You tried your best to listen along, but you just… couldn’t. The longer you stood there, the more your mind was being made up. Soon, you excused yourself from the circle, complaining of a headache. ‘Just going to lie down.’ You spoke. Their worried eyes bore into your back as you disappeared into your room.

You were going to crumple into your bed, but your tired eyes noticed something first. A letter. It was laid neatly on your bed, words written almost neatly, but also as if whoever had written them was rushed. You were going to ignore it, but you knew your curiosity would win. It was a human thing.

You picked it up, letting your eyes glide over the words. Face neutral, your eyes took in every word but widened over time as an indescribable rage filled you. You got to the last line of the letter, letting you know who had written you this bullshit of a final letter. ‘Love, Beomgyu.’ 

You crumpled it into a ball, throwing it into a corner of your room. Full of shit. He was full of shit. How could you have ever thought he could’ve really meant something to you? He was nothing.

And soon, /you’d/ be nothing too.

You made your way over to your computer, typing in the website for your streams. Scrolling until you found what you were looking for, your eyes bore into your screen. It was like time was moving slowly again, as your conscious tried desperately to get you to stop before making the worst decision of your life. But, you were determined to finish this. 

You had to. You couldn’t back down. You clicked your mouse once, mind made up.

The recording light lit up, letting you know you were now live.

As your chat filled, you heard an audible sound of confusion come from your living room. You forgot Kai had your streaming notifications on. You had to move quicker than he could get to you. You ran to the door, locking it before your friends could come to stop you. 

You could hear the banger from the door. You could hear them. Soobin loudly asking what you were doing. Kai begging you to open the door. Yeonjun pleading that you stop recording and come out the door. You couldn’t let them stop you. Not this time. You knew you might regret this, but soon /you/ wouldn’t be around to care.

“Hi.” You spoke bluntly into the camera. “Welcome to DigitalGirl’s final stream.”

a/n — so... how y'all doing? *sips tea* um, i’m not exactly good at writing super angsty stuff, but i hope y’all still enjoyed! anyways, what do y’all think the letter said? and what do you think yn’s gonna do/say in her “final” stream? lmk!

© GYUMIBEAR. do not repost, modify or translate my work onto other social media sites.  

[c0smoshit]

Guilt ミ★

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud Strife/Reader

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕝𝕠𝕥 ≫ Familiar faces with not so pretty words appear in Cloud's dream

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ angst!!, fluff too, traumatised Cloud, HUGE FF7 SPOILERS, Not proofread!!

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ This fic contains really big spoilers from the original game that haven't appeared yet on the remake!!!

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 4.705

Aerith

Wait

"Why didn't you save me Cloud?"

What?

"You tried to kill me"

It was Sephiroth not me... What is going on?

"You left me to die there, don't you remember?"

Suddenly the voice that took all the space in that weird unlighted room came into vision. She was backwards, her long hazel braid adorned with a cute pink ribbon on top and that characteristic red jacket beyond a long dress... It was really her.

Did I die and went into a purgatory for what I had done? Am I in some sort of limbo?

No it can't be. I saw her die in front of me, this is just some stupid dream...

"I miss you Cloud"

...Right?

Her face was soft and full of live, her green orbs overshadowing the rest of her features. She looked so... real

He stayed silent as the girl approached him slowly, smiling sweetly as her dress followed her steps graciously. He kept thinking about that day, the day she let go of him, cradled in his arms as her lifeless body sank itself into the water, returning to the lifestream.

Something felt odd, her face wasn't as lively as he remembered it to be. Her face was like a ray of sun, always emanating energy and happiness to her surroundings. Now her face felt empty, altough she was smiling, it was like there wasn't any true emotion behind her factions.

"Why did you let me go?"

She kept talking, and with every word that fell from her mouth he felt himself growing deeper and deeper into sorrow.

Of course I remember her, I miss her too and I'm was very aware that I had tried to kill her on top of that translucent glass.

It wasn't him, he had done everything that he could to stop himself from slicing her in half. But no matter how hard he repeated to himself that it wasn't his fault, there was always this agravating voice inside of his head that blamed him. He still felt like it was his fault, he should've been stronger, he should've been a SOLDIER.

A hand touched his shoulder, making him tense up, there was someone else here too. His eyes fell first to the recognizable black gloves and he didn't have to turn around to be sure he'd be met with dark spiky hair.

Why couldn't I be like him?

That question often flooded his mind, ever since he was just a kid who just wanted to pursue a dream. Life could've been easier if he had just became a SOLDIER, deep down he thought that if he was stronger maybe you'd like him more.

"I thought you were strong"

A huskier voice spoke now, much stronger than the one that spoke earlier. The hand had such a powerfull hold on his shoulder Cloud pictured himself being buried into the ground just by the force of it. And he wished it was his strength instead.

"You could've protected her, protected me"

I know, I fucking know.

"Aerith will no longer talk, no longer laugh, cry... or get angry..."

He remembers himself saying that in front of that self-centered son of a bitch. Many times had he crossed his path and promised everyone that he'd kill him, but instead he was just being controlled by him. Forcing him into doing things he didn't want to, give him things he wouldn't let slip out of his grasp.

He felt grief, he felt embarrassed but on top of those feeling he felt lost.

He was already a grown up and he didn't even know his true self, everything about his life seemed... fake.

Like someone was just piloting him and he was on the passenger seat.

He also felt weak.

An adjective he had learnt to totally despise over the years.

He couldn't enter into SOLDIER because he wasn't strong enough, he couldn't save Tifa from that fall because he wasn't fast enough, he couldn't save Aerith from Sephiroth because well... he wasn't good enough.

When he was just a child he thought Tifa's friends were childish and weak, that he wouldn't be like them, that he wasn't like them.

But turns out... maybe he was the weak and childish one.

He then felt himself being dragged into the void, everything went dark around him. A pitch-black blanket covered him tightly, or what he thought it was.

Zack and Aerith were now gone, he was floating alone.

His limbs were numb, his eyes were closed for an instant before they were opened again. A familiar sandy path appeared right in front of him, an old truck resting on the side of it. He then saw the tall metalic structure, something he had crossed multiple times when he was younger. Houses adorned the little village in an almost perfect circle, red roofs and white bricks.

His younger him walked in front of him, steps full of energy and youth. He felt somewhat jealous of him, he had so many dreams and fantasies he pursued. Little could expect that boy to happen in reality.

The little boy ran before he could grab him, vanishing from his vision as another person came into it instead. Altough he was backwards, anyone could know who he was. Long white hair and dark clothes, eyes full of rage and power as he tilted his head to see Cloud.

Soon the houses were light with red and orange flames, the air becoming dense and har to breathe through the ashes and the imminent warmth.

"What about MY saddness!?"

He also pictured himself shouting that to Sephiroth, words full of rage and saddness. The man he trusted the most, the man who he thought was so strong and, just someone who he could follow his steps. He was now laughing at him, speaking to him as if he was rubbish, some sort of puppet.

He was tired of him, tired of seeing him everywhere. He remembers his confusion that day, his anger and his saddness. He thought that wasn't the real Sephiroth, that this was just some sort of joke.

He hated him, he wanted him dead right in front of him but he hated himself more. He hated that he probably wasn't going to be strong enough to even touch him.

He was just a traumatised kid.

Then you appeared, trapped bellow a wooden board. You had the most frightened eyes he had ever seen, you were sweating, screaming and begging for him to save you.

"Cloud!"

He tried to run to were you were, to shout that you were going to be okay, that he was going to rescue you and take you back home without any scratch.

"Please..."

When he saw you going limp on that board his heart clenched. Not again, god, he would sell his soul to the devil just to save you. He couldn't see you like that, not when he could save you.

"Hang on!"

He shouted to you as he began lifting the rusty board from you, helping you out from the fire. Your body fell and he managed to catch you, you were hot, really hot. This wasn't good.

"It's alright"

He tried to reassure you, he knew he wasn't the best with words but he tried. Why couldn't he be like one of those cool heroes who managed to save everyone and always have such good words to say?

You didn't open your pretty eyes, your breathing was getting calmer and weaker. He held you tightly to his body as he felt the warmth of the fire enveloping both of you.

He couldn't do this anymore, first Zack then Aerith and now you.

He couldn't lose you, you were his last hope on this tragic planet. You two had been through hell and back together, you couldn't die that easily right?

"Please answer me"

He shook you lightly, patting your cheek as he tried to wake you up. But none of that worked, you felt heavier on top of him... lifeless.

He felt himself tearing up, not you. He needed you, you couldn't just be gone that easily. He held you tightly to his body as he let himself cry into your shoulder.

Your smell was mixed with the smoke, your relaxed muscles sprawled on top of him as a little tear shed from your eye. He was devastated. The girl that had helped him through everything, who offered him a shoulder to cry on whenever he needed it, who lended him a warm bed and fresh food with such a sweet smile. She was now dead on top of him and it was all his fault.

"Come on"

A wave of guilt washed over him, he still hasn't thanked you enough for all the shit you had done for him. All the sleepless nights you had spent taking care of him and his stupid wounds.

His arms lifted you in bridal style, just like he did with Aerith. No, this time it could be different, it had to.

Your head rested on his shoulder and he could've found that view cute if you weren't fucking dying on his arms. He hated this, the scorching fire enveloping both of you as he tried to find somewhere to go. His head spinned and ached, he needed to get you somewhere safer.

But the more he ran and ran, the more blurry his surroundings became. His legs were burning, his lungs too, but he needed to save you.

And then... darkness again, his skin was no longer sweaty thanks to the burning flames.

You were still on his arms with your eyes closed and no signs of breathing. He quickly hugged you close to his body, begging you to wake up to just talk to him, open your gorgerous eyes for him to see just one more time.

But you didn't, instead you felt... lighter, as if your soul was slowly leaving your body. He could still smell the soapy shampoo you used that lingered on your hair, a smell that always brought comfort to him.

It wasn't fair, he was tired

Tired of seeing everyone die right in front of him, the time he had spent with them and the bonds he had created with them now becoming just memories. And he couldn't do anything about it, he should've done something sooner.

He often wondered why was he alive, why not him, why did poor souls of innocent friends had to die and not him.

"Cloud"

He quickly shoved his head off your shoulder, eyes trying to focus on your own ones. But you were still asleep on his arms, what? It was your voice who said his name, why didn't you wake up?

His mako eyes flicked up and looked into the void, there was nobody there, it was just... darkness.

"Cloud"

Your voice called him again and it echoed though his ears, where were you? Well, first off were was he?

Your words were laced with sleppiness, coming out a bit groggy and husky. You were calling him but your lips didn't move when you talked.

He felt someone shake his shoulder but when he tried to look at whoever who was touching him he saw emptiness. The shaking became harsher, but it didn't feel like someone strong was shaking him. It was more like if someone wanted to wake him up, it reminded him of his mother and how she woke him up with gentle shakes. But a kiss wasn't placed on his cheek or forehead so he was pretty sure it wasn't her.

An anguish pain struck his forehead, his skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat as he sat on top of a mattress. The room was dark except for the dim moonlight that entered through the window, blocking the chilly air.

His hands fisted the mattress hard, knuckles white before his eyes locked with yours. Thank god you were safe and without any burn scars or serious wounds. Your hair was messy and your eyes were practically forcing themselves to remain open.

He then noticed your hand holding your reddened forehead, it looked like someone had punched you right in the middle of it.

"Are you alright?"

You muttered a quiet "oww" before his own forehead began to hurt again. That was when he realised what could've happened and boy did he felt bad.

He suddenly remembered where he was and what was happening, you two were resting in an inn as Tifa had decided that it was the best idea before the night reached your path. Both of you shared a pretty nice room, your bed a few inches appart from his, divided by a cute wooden bedside table.

He remembers your excited and happy face when you first saw the bedroom, an emotion he couldn't understant. I mean... It was just a bedroom. But that was something that he absolutely adored about you.

He didn't know why or how but you always managed to make him feel the way you did. Wherever he saw a normal room you saw a cozy cute room that was absolutely perfect to rest in after a long day. Whenever he saw a cloudy and boring day you saw the opportunity to go out and let the rain wash over your body, running and smiling around.

"Are you alright?"

His breathing was still uneaven, the sour taste of seeing you lifeless on his arms still lingered on his tongue. He nodded quite quickly at your question, still disorientated.

"You were making weird noises in your sleep and then... And then you started moving around"

He listened carefully to what you were saying but his eyes finally took in your state. You were sitting besides him on his bed, your puffy eyes and your messed up nightgown showed that you had probably just woken up.

"I tried to wake you up and when I did you sat up so abruptly that our foreheads smashed into each other"

So that was the reason of his weird headache, touching it as he saw you mimick his actions. He was incredibly sorry, he shouldn't have woken you up in the first place and when you tried to help him get out of that horrific nightmare he just hurt you.

He kept apologising to you, telling you how sorry he was for waking you up like this. But you only smiled at him, shuffling closer to him and telling him that it wasn't a big deal.

"I just had a bad dream, that's- that's all"

His words were followed by an evident sad tone, keeping to himself the actual nightmare he had just seen.

But when he tried to explain to you that it was nothing he was met with two warm arms surrounding his middle part. His hands stayed akwardly on the sheets, letting you hug him before he gently returned the hug.

He didn't know he wanted your hug but he needed it. You felt so warm and nice just like a blanket wrapped around him in a winter night. He never wanted to let go of you, god since when had he gotten so emotional?

A flash of images about the earlier dream he had passed through his eyes and he had to force himself not to hug you tighter to his body, just to feel that you were real. To ensure that you were there with him alive and breathing.

But you were the one that hugged him tighter, pressing your chest against his as you laid your head on his shoulder your mouth just bellow his ear. His mouth was slightly open and his cheeks grew hotter, clearly not used to this closiness with someone.

But he pushed those thoughts away, akwardly placing his hands around your waist. He was so glad you were here with him, so glad that it all was a bad dream.

He hated hugs, he hated when people invaded his personal space, but having someone that gave you a warm hug after an almost traumatic experience felt just right. You actually cared about what he had to say or what he wanted to do, you were there when he needed you.

He felt stupid for all the times you offered him a hug and he ,arrogantly, declined them. This felt like heaven.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Your sweet and soothing voice ringed through his ears in such a perfect way he would have melted on spot. He didn't know what was happening to him but he just was so emotional with you. Maybe it was because he didn't really have anyone to calm him down after a bad dream.

He stayed silent for a few seconds, he couldn't lie to you but he didn't want to open up to someone about his feelings too. He was taught that feelings were for weaklings, thst he didn't need them. He felt stupid for having them but he couldn't help it, he was just a guy after all.

"Aerith was there"

He started speaking without wanting to, he finally broke that akward barrier with you. He felt your breath hitch for an instant and before you could open your mouth he talked again.

"She was with Zack and they were-"

He cut himself off by clearing his throat a bit, thinking about the words he was going to use.

"They were... blaming me for what happened"

Your eyebrows furrowed and now you cut him off before he could speak again, your head pulling off from his shoulder, eyes facing his neck as you held him close to you.

"It wasn't your fault"

"Don't blame yourself for what happened, you did more than enough"

Your words hit him harder than a brick, he expected you to say something similar but those words actually coming out of your mouth made his heart clench.

"You were there for both of them, you protected them. But sometimes things don't go as you expected"

He didn't know when you had placed your hand on his cheek but he leant against it, his eyes know facing your gorgerous sleepy ones. He had always found you really pretty, he liked the way you smiled and how you laughed at dumb one-liners.

But or course he would never say that to you.

He stared at your face like a lost puppy, listening intently to what you were saying. He could listen to you for hours and he loved doing it whenever you two were together with the rest of the group. He actually sticked closer to you whenever he had the chance, the way you friskily moved your hands or the gestures you'd make. You were so... natural and charming.

"Aerith must be proud of you and so must be Zack, you were by their side the whole time"

Your thumb started stroking his cheek, keeping your movements gentle and steady. He could've fell asleep right there, his hands still rested on your waist and when he noticed he quickly retrieved them.

He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, not when you were helping him so much, holding him on your arms, whispering through the night breeze such reassuring words.

He can't recall the day he felt this safe and good with someone, not even with his own mother. He sure had heard before some motivational words coming out of Barret or Tifa's mouth but your's were deeper than theirs. He needed to hear them, he needed you.

"It's all Sephiroths fault, how could I have trusted him? You almost..."

He opted not to continue, it was probably the best option because he didn't want to talk about your death again, not in front of you. He had already talked too much about his dream.

Your hand trailed itself up to his shoulder, faces close together before your lips moved again.

"We'll take care of him, together"

Your last words were matched with a tender squeeze on his shoulder, bringing him the comfort he didn't know he needed. His eyes rested on yours, inspecting them carefully, taking mental images of them.

"You're a tough guy Cloud, no white haired weird guy could take you down"

He smiled a bit a your description and so did you, offering him a wolfish grin before whispering again.

"His hair sure didn't age well"

He let a little chuckle escape his lips, forgetting for an instant why were you up in the first place. After that silence fell all over the room, the only noise that could be heard was the gentle sway of the leaves and the slight night breeze.

The moonlight hit your face, making it glow in an almost ethereal way and he swore he felt the time freeze. He was so comfortable right now with you by your side, he never wanted this to end.

You both looked into eachother's faces, eyes trailing over the tiniest little features before always returning to both of your eyes. This was prolonged for almost three minutes, both of you just breathing and admiring each other, waiting for someone to do something.

"You should get some rest"

Your voice broke the silence again, but not in a good way as earlier. He saw you depart from him, your warm body left his, he didn't want you to go that quickly.

How much time had passed since you sat down with him?

"No"

A hand grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements. He didn't know where this sudden movement came from but he didn't care if it made you stay.

So you silently complied, sitting down with him again and as magnets attract each other, your bodies crashed together again in a warm hug. He couldn't give a damn about the fact that you were practically crushing him above the bed, he was happy to have someone to hold to in these awful nights.

He wasn't usually like this, he did not fucking know were this demeanor came from but he knew that he liked you like this.

Your body rolled itself so it rested by his side, no longer on top of him wrapped like a blanket. Your hands wrapped around his head, holding his face close to your chest while his own hands held your waist tightly, afraid to let go of you. His blonde spiky hair trickled your arms, he looked so cute like this; wrapped tightly against your chest like a little kid, eyes closed and slightly furrowed eyebrows.

"Sleep tight, Cloud"

He loved how his name rolled off your tongue, he could picture your mouth slowly making a little "O" shape when you said his last letters.

You were so good, maybe too good to him and for what? He was just an arrogant quiet guy who only cared for himself (or so is what he thought about himself) He admired you, your strength to lift yourself up when you had fallen to the ground with a heavy "thud! ", how you put other people's feelings or even lives before your own one, how you managed to easily forgive pieces of shit that had caused you or the group a bad time just because you were too emphatic.

And here you were now, holding him like he was made out of glass, he would cry right now. But he didn't, he sticked to just holding you tightly to him, assuring himself that you were there with him. You rubbed his hair gently, carefully massaging his scalp, he felt as if a goddess was massaging his head instead, and it wasn't far away from reality because he really saw you as an angel.

Your little snores made his heart flutter, you had fallen asleep on his arms, your hand no longer caressing his hair. And he quickly followed you, drifting off to Cloud 9 before he could even admire your asleep form.

That night he had the best sleep he'd ever had since months, craddled nicely on your arms as if he was a little kid who had slept on his mommy's bed after a bad dream (that was indeed what had happened). Your limbs were tangled together, your head resting on top of his as the blanket was quickly replaced with your body. He really couldn't thank you enough.

This was the first time he had sleep with someone like this and he surely would do it again. But it wasn't just somebody it was you, you were special.

His mind drifted to images of you, the day he first saw you on a dress Aerith had told you it was made just for you, and it clearly was. That time when you stopped by Costa del Sol and you and the girls played along the sea, barefoot and splashing water at each other. That day back in Midgar when you had found stray cats and quickly petted them, held them in your lap as you rubbed their belly and earnt some purrs.

He didn't know why but he just wanted to keep you to himself, hug you until he died in your arms.

He also loved how your hair smelt, a fresh fruity scent that he was now delighted to enjoy for as long as he wanted to. Your hands and how they worked wonders on him when you gave him a massage or when you treatted his wounds. Your eyes, god they were so gorgerous he could spend the rest of his life staring at them.

But his mind also drifted to your limp state on his arms, was that a future vision? He remembers he had some weird flashes of Aerith's dead when he first was with her. He was deeply worried, he didn't know what his mind or his body were actually capable of and he didn't even wanted to know.

He knew something was wrong with him since he was just a child, he was different to the other kids. Maybe if he acted distant and cool they would play with him or maybe not.

Deep down he knew he only wanted to feel wanted, to feel loved. He had spent his whole life pushing those feelings away, it would only complicate things. But it just felt so good to be held like this, to hear those quiet but deep words. He wanted you, he had loved you since he had met you, you were... god he can't even describe you.

All this Shinra and the world being destroyed was so tiring for him, why did he had to solve everything? He was sick of hearing that name, sick that the only purpose of his life was to stop him, to go after him. But he had started all this, he needed to finish what he had caused.

But on nights like this, he only craved for you, for you to just be there for him, hold him tightly to your body as you told him that nothing would go wrong. To dry his eyes when he fell apart, to massage his hair. He wanted you.

You were there with him, he was glad that this wasn't some shit he had made up inside his head.

Your hands tugging his hair were the reason the woke up, slowly opening his eyes, praying that you'd still be there. And you were, greeting him with the sweetest smile he could have ever seen. Your tired eyes stared down at him, eyebrows slightly furrowing a bit as you woke up too.

This was a sight he wanted to see way more often.

[jinkookspencil]

i just don't understand pt 2

in which jungkook does not understand how his friend doesn't have a crush on namjoon

a drabble sequel to the drabble 'i just don't understand' -

i'd say you need to read that first, it's just 500 words but if you really don't want to, i included the last bit of dialogue at the beginning of this fic i dont care if drabbles can't have sequels, it just worked out this way lmao

description/tags: jungkook drabble / fluff / friends to lovers / ~900 words / jk comes off a little more insecure here but it kind of works because i'd always imagined this as a younger version of him / hope you enjoy!! / it's been a while since i wrote anything but i have a recent writing update i recently shared (this is *not* the jk thing i am currently working on - i hope to have that done for his birthday!)

+

“What the hell are you attracted to?” Jungkook laughs. “Ugly, stupid, mean, untalented guys?”

“Of course not, Jungkook,” you sigh. “I like other handsome, smart, kind, respectful guys.”

“Like who?”

“Like YOU!”

This was not how you imagined confessing. 

“Like…. Like me?!”

Dropping the plushie in his hands, Jungkook gestures to himself in disbelief.

“I said like you, Jungkook,” you emphasize, hoping it wasn’t too late to back out of your frustration-fueled confession.

“So…. Not me?”

What the fuck were you supposed to say now?! You pick up the teddy bear and tug at its pink fur, staring at its face and hoping the bear’s smile would turn into a murderous one, killing you and waking you up from this anxiety-inducing nightmare. 

Jungkook calls your name quietly and quickly, bringing you back life.

“Like you. You, Jungkook. I like you.”

“Over… over Namjoon?” he winces, and you do too. It was the most humiliating way someone could have responded to a confession…. hoping you’d fall in love with someone else instead. 

“Yes, Jungkook. Over Namjoon," you reply with your head in your hands.

“So all those things you said to describe him… handsome, smart, you think that of me too?”

“Yeah, of course,” you chuckle, finally looking up at him, “that and so much more, actually.”

“But there’s a difference? Between what you think of me and what you think of Namjoon-hyung?”

“Oh, there’s a big difference.”

“You described the both of us with the same string of adjectives, though….”

Jungkook was a clever guy…. Why was he acting so stupid?

“Who cares if you share some similar qualities?! I am not attracted to Namjoon. Period. I am attracted to you, Jeon Jungkook. The person born on September 1, 1997, who always wears black, loves karaoke, samgyeopsal, the movie Titanic, and the scariest fucking theme park rides! The Jeon Jungkook that’s sitting right in front of me. You.”

Jungkook's breath is shaky, his voice the same when he speaks. “I just find it hard to believe…. Not Namjoon. And not only that - me over Namjoon….”

“I don’t know how to explain it in more words, Koo…. I like you. I like you in the way that people have crushes on each other. You make my heart flutter while also putting it at ease. I like you.”

The boy in front of you doesn’t say anything, merely stiffens his posture, and you know it only meant the worst.

“This…. This calls for the end of our friendship doesn’t it?” you mumble, voice breaking and bubbling, ready to burst into tears.

“No…. No, absolutely not….” he says, breaking out of his catatonic state to sit next to you on the couch and hug your plushie once again. “Let me explain something this time… You know how I gush over Namjoon?”

“Of course,” you groan, and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“And I always try to understand why you aren’t attracted to him… right?”

“Yeah…”

“I know Namjoon and I are not the exact same. Of course I do, that’s why I look up to him and keep recommending him to you and I guess… I guess it’s because in my head, I was trying to convince myself that you had to go for guys like Namjoon… because you’d never go for guys like me…”

“…. And what do you mean by guys like you?” 

“Guys that have nothing in common with you. You say Namjoon and I are both handsome and smart... But in truth, you and he share the similarities and I could never compete. You're both beautiful in the 'once-in-a-lifetime' kind of way. You're both clever in the book-ish way - do you know you have the exact same books as he does? I bought a book two weeks ago to try and impress you but I haven’t gotten past the introduction so I was too ashamed to even tell you. Oh, that one time, you both recommended the same drama series to me… on the same day. I thought for sure that you’d hooked up and seen it together, and that’d be that. But then you called me crying when it ended, wrapped up in your fluffy pink blanket in bed with chips.”

“You asked me why I didn’t call Namjoon…”

“And you said ‘why would I?’… Even if you weren't hooking up, I could’ve given you a million reasons as to why you could've called him instead. That drama was too artsy for me, but not for either of you. I didn’t even understand what you were saying on the phone that day - the message behind the story, or whatever - I was just so happy that you’d called and that you’d think I’d get it.” 

Jungkook lets out a laugh as he shakes his head. For some reason, it breaks your heart.

“I tried to make ‘you and Namjoon’ happen because it’s the only logical thing I could see in front of me…… The only answer I could come up with… You’re… the most wonderful person I’ve ever known, YN. I want what’s best for you - you deserve the best kind of guy there is…. and that’s definitely Nam-“

You push your lips against Jungkook’s, interrupting him with a kiss.

“It’s you, Jungkook. You’re the best fucking person I know.” You kiss him again. “I’d pick you a million times over.”

“Well, what if-“

“Can we forget about Namjoon entirely for a moment? I want the boy I like to shut up and kiss me…. If you want to, that is.”

Jungkook’s smile turns into one you rarely see. A smirk, devilish, menacing…. Delectable as he nods and meets you with a deep kiss, electrifying every inch of your body.

You were always a know-it-all and you'd been right once again: this was always the boy for you.

[chemicallady]

I WANNA FEEL LOVE AGAIN

Part 1

Couple: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: none. It's gonna be a slow burn, baby! Just a couple of bad words and some references to sexual intercorse. Should I add Matt to the warming just because it's part of this?

Taglist: @ada-clarence, @badalmondzzzz, my wifey @starsomens

Summary: Reader is Matt's sister and PR for Bad Omens. After a long relationship that ended quite bad, with her brother help, she decides to give herself a fresh new start in Los Angeles.

A/N: from now on, I'll post my notes at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers!

As always this is just a product of fiction, nothing in this ff is real, my intention is to entertain myself and all of you.

Enjoy 🐕

I don't know if I count, but I'm trying my best.

This is not a story with a happy ending.

This is not one of those scenarios in which the grumpy old brother, after a significant amount of time, realises that his sister and his bestfriend are in love and the two of you can live happily ever after.

This is the real life, not an urban fairytale.

And there's a lot to unpack, emotionally.

First of all, you and Noah are not in love. You weren't aware of who he was before an hour ago. In your head you can ear in loop Eric, Eric, Eric, and it's fucking annoying that you actually had had the feeling you know him but you didn't recognised his throat tattoo after licking it. Or his nose. He has the most perfect nose you've ever seen, but nothing. It's not even an excuse that you haven't seen each other for three years because Matt shares videos from their gig on weekly basis, when on tour.

It's the fucking Clark Kent paradox, but instead of a pair of glasses, he got those long, perfect silk hair cut.

Losing the 25% of his charm, in your modest opinion.

But it doesn't matter.

Because when you met Eric, your first impression was that he seemed to be genuine, but shy maybe, in a good way a bit weird.

But genuine.

He is not genuine for the fuck sake! He lied on who he is and now you both have a problem.

Matt hasn't noticed yet, but only because he's too invested in the production of the music video to connect the dots. The way Noah stood in front of you, paralyzed, without talking, was loud enough for someone to notice.

You're sure about that.

After that stupid exchange of words you ran back inside the house telling everyone that it's too hot and you are not use yet to California's sunny day.

Dumbest excuse ever since is almost november, and Texas is warmer than here. But it worked so you can sit on the kitchen counter, and reflect about how much fucked up you are.

This is not even a story in which the main character is overreacting. You're Not. Matt has always hated every boy who laid and eye on you. From the very first boyfriend in mid school to a couple of classmates in highschool that just asked for your help with homeworks. Then, Shawn. He has never tollerated Shawn even if the rest of your family accepted him as a son. Matt never made up a scene in front of him or mistreated him in any way. But behind his back, he talked a lot shit, made you furious every time. He said that Shawn wasn't genuine enough (this adjective is starting to sound funny, at this point), caring enough, that he was drinking too much at your parents dinner table, that he looked too possessive.

In your modest opinion, your brother is terrible in judging others. For real. The issue on the table is always the same one; he is afraid you can get hurt. Matt can't physically stand the sight of you crying or being miserable.

Now, after this long mental digression, it's fair to say that he doesn't have to know. Absolutely. And you need Noah to be on the same page about that. You have to cut any contact with him that is not related to work. The date you have for friday is deleted.

It's sad because you really enjoyed having Eric around.

But he's not fucking Eric.

You don't have the chance to speak face to face with noah until after lunch. When the nerds move on Orie's room to give a first look at the unprocessed scenes and Jolly joined Folio in the pool, Noah is the one who actually comes looking for you.

You are on the sofa, petting Harper. He indulges just one second on the sight of you cuddling the adorable princess of the hous, before take a seat next to you. 《 Harp likes you.》

《 Well, she is not the only one. Isn't she?》

Noah release a long, loud sigh, while is cheeks get pink-ish. 《 You really are outspoken, are you?》. He gives a look at you, straight into your eyes. You are ready. You can feel how reticent he is right now, almost scared to say the wrong thing. 《 You are not gonna tell your brother about...》

《 About you eating me out in you car?》 It's your question, whispered between the two of you like the biggest secret in the world. 《 initially he won't believe us, but further investigations will follow; Maybe he will take the fingerprints from the back window. My hands were there while you were fucking me from behind. And he loves CSI.》

《 I'm serious. Are you going to tell him?》

And he is serious. You were joking, maybe because you feel a little embarrassed, maybe because your dad is right when he says that making fun about serious situations sometimes helps in facing them. But Noah on the other hand doesn't look amused. He looks like thinks you're mocking him.

So you hinale deeply, before looking back at him, leaving all your bullshit behind. And that's the moment in which you start to feel how tense the situation is. 《 I would rather chop my own foot than telling him I fuck with his best friend. He's gonna be furious. To me, but also to you. Do you have any deathwishies? Because I just got a fresh new start and I intend to survive the beginning of the week.》

Noah nods with a slow motion. He seems to have already evaluated any bad scenarios and keep it quiet is for the best of all of you. Especially Matt, who doesn't deserve to end up in jail. 《 So it's a secret between you and me now, Vanessa.》

《Don't you even try to use this card against me, Eric. 》

Noah brings his hands to his eyes. He looks even more concerned than you are. Matt once told you that Noah never had a real family, growing up. He was always on his own, so he formed a family with the friends he chose. Probably he is scared to disappoint Matt as much as you are.

《 Why you lie? Why you told me your name was Eric?》

With another sigh, Noah looked back at you. 《 I don't know. Sometime I ... fuck, you're going to have a bad first impression of me.》

《 Don't worry. I already had a bad first impression of you. 》

When he see you smile softly, he chuckles. It's pure tension right now and not the good one. He is living the horror of being caught with his hands in your honey jar. 《 ...When I meet a girl that sounds like troubles, I never bring her home and I give her a fake name.》

《 Did I sound like a troubles, to you?》

《 Yes because I knew I've already seen you.... but I couldn't recall were or when. And when you told me you had just moved in with your brother for a second I thought 'oh shit its y/n, her tits got bigger'. But then you lie as well and I believe I was in the safe.》

《 You didn't remember anything else but my breast size?》

It makes sense.

In some ways.

Half of fault is on both of you.

《 Sorry I lied》 , he says while rising from the sofa, ready to join his friends and check how the video is going 《 and sorry for... you know. 》

《 ah, don't say anything, we both enjoyed that part》 .

《 yeah, it was...》 Noah stays a couple of second in silence before biting both is lips. 《 We have to stop anyway. I cant loose Matt and he gave us a lecture about NOT fucking around with you, before you arrived.》

Now it's your time to sigh loudly. Yeah, you have seen that coming. But it's fine since you and Noah didn't planned it. You call it a casuality more than an incident.

You haven't big aspectation on Eric, anyway.

You feel like you've lost the capability of love long, after Shawn.

《 I agree. It's not gonna happen again》.

He smiles at you in relieve and you feel the same. 《 Can wait to work with you, than 》

《Otherwise》

He waves his hand before turning around and leave you in the living room. Harper is licking your hand so you start to pet her again, feeling better.

Matt will never know about your rendezvous.

You're washing the dishes after dinner, while Matt is picking up a movie. Even if you convinced yourself that you and Noah took the most resonable way, and also your conversation was short but clearifyng, you cant help yourself but feeling a bit down because you're not going to meet Eric anymore. And you know that Eric doesn't even exist. You will see Noah on a daily basis, and this will help a lot in moving on, but it's gonna be tough for the first week or two.

Because you and Noah are not in love, but you can feel the first syntomps of a beginning crush. Which is legit because Noah is funny and goofy and good-looking. More than that, he was nice to you and didn't force you in silence or nothing. You two have a conversation and reach an easy solution that makes everyone safe. Safe from Matt. After clearing the air, he also asked you for some advices because he never had a PR. It's his job usually and the two of you should work on that together. The prospective makes you nervous since you have no clue about the job itself, and Matt noticed. You know he did.

And you also know that he was waiting the vulnerable silence of your shared flat to talk about this with you.

《 What's wrong with Noah?》

You don't look back at him, rinsing the dishes from the soap. 《 What about Noah?》

《 He froze when he saw you this morning. And then you didn't look so happy about working with him》.

Matt and his way to be fucking direct.

You scroll your shoulders, epically good in lying. 《 I can't tell about him freezing in front of me. But I'm not looking forward to be his assistant and bring him his favorite brand of coffe.... or fold his underwares.》

《 That's not your job. He can make his own caffè and he won't let you fold any of his clothes. Trust me, that man on the edge of an OC diagnosis 》. You mumble something about being good in folding clothes while Matt approaches you, crossing his arm on his chest. 《 C'mon. Do I have to pull the big deal out of you kicking your ass?》

You're trapped because you two are too similar. You can read your brother like a book written for kids. Really dumb kids. And it's the same for him. You can't fool him too long.

《 Alright. I met a guy at the gym. He's name is Eric and he looked nice, but now I'm convinced that he's fake like a three dollar coin. Happy?》

You wait for the ocean of question that Matt is going to storm on you, but.... Nothing. He simply exhales before helping you, drying the dishes and the glasses with a cloat. You feel like you just turned twelve again and he was always around helping with the cores your mom gave you.

《 It's good that you're moving on fast. When I brought you here, I was afraid to see you again in the sane state you were in Texas. Close in your own room, drowing your bad feelings under the blankets. It's a good thing that you go to the gym and meet new people but be careful. People in LA are different from what you're used to. 》

You don't know what to say. You were aspecting Matt to start a lecture about rushing your new life and instead you got a boost. That's a progress.

《 Thanks for the advice》.

《 Just text me every time you're with him. And send me the position in real time so I can check.》

There he is! 《 You almost got me scared. I was wandering where my medieval-mind brother was. 》

《 Shut up!》

A soft laught leaves your mounth while he pours so water from the sink on you. And you oblige, doing it back on him. 《 I won't see Eric again, anyway.》

《 Who's Eric?》

《 Gym guy. He left.》

Matt finished drying the last fork before push you a little, playfully. 《 What did you say to make him run?》

《 Nothing! You asshole!》

The two of you reach the sofa, but apparently he is not done with the conversation. 《 Can you promise just two things?》

《 Alright, shoot》

《 In case this guy will be back and you won't be interested, just call Noah. He is enrolled to the same gym》.

You have to do your best to not laugh or betray yourself in any way. 《 Promise. What else?》

《 You are more than allowed to look for some happiness. You deserve to be loved by someone who is not an idiot as Shawn. Someone who sees the real you.》 You smile with some commotion to these beautiful words, reaching for his hand on the cushion in between you two. 《 But please never date anyone from the crew. No one wants drama while we're hitting the road.》

The smile froze on your lips without giving your brain the chance to process why you suddenly feel so .... disappointed.

《 y/n, pinkie promise?》

A bit reluctant, you grab his pinkie with yours, like you have done billions of time.

《 I promise》.

And you really hope you will be able to keep it.

It takes six days to meet again Noah at the gym. Matt helped you find a class about management and public relations, and day after day, you're learning how you can be useful for the band. Working on websites, taking care of the agenda, and defining schedules sounds scary, but you feel more confident day after day.

Noah is sitting outside his jujitsu class, his mitts next to him, and some bandage in his hand. The other one is busy scrolling the screen of his iPhone. You're reticent in bump into him, but just for a second. You know that if you start to avoid him, it will be a bad habit to lose. So you approach greeting him.

He looks surprised, but just for a couple of seconds, while he's buring the cellphone in his shorts' pocket. 《 How is yoga going?》

《 Fine, nothing noticeable》 , you take a seat next to him, smiling. 《 How jujitsu is going?》

《 Today, not so good》 he answers, showing you his brushed knuckles. Some blood on the right hand is almost dry. 《 I have to change my mitts. These are fucked.》

That's an amazing start of conversation for two people who had sex and then started to pretend that never happened in less than 24 hours.

《 Let me help you with that.》 With a nod, you indicate the bandages. He slowly gives the box to you, and after cleaning your hands with the sanitizer you have in your gym bag, you start to wrap the bandages around his hand gently.

《 How's school going? Matt said that you're taking it so seriously》. There is something in his voice that is illegible. Is he mocking you? Or maybe he is amused? You're focused on his hands to pay attention to his sminking face.

《 Well, I'm supposed to, right?》

《 Why? Why do you want to work with us? I mean... you can find a job as a piercer. I saw you in action and you're really good at it. 》

After fixing his left hand, you proceed to the other one, avoiding his gaze. 《 Do you want me to be honest?》

《 You can be honest, or you can be Vanessa 》.

A sigh escapes from your lips, uncontrolled. The audacity of this bitch. 《 Because I want the money. Because I want to spend a lot of time with my brother. Because I want to choose my job and leave the one my prick ex chose for me behind. Because I have nothing left to lose. I want to love my life again, waking up in the morning with a purpose.》

You have no idea why you're opening up to someone you barely know. But it is what it is. You can't have a fresh new start if you are not honest with yourself.

And when you look at Noah, you find respect in his gaze. 《 You just move in LA, and i'm not gonna lie to you: it's hard work. Are you sure you can take this?》

《 I'm used to fight any battle at my lowest》 it's your answer. The most honest one you can guarantee to him. 《 I'm ready to drag myself if it's necessary and only if it's forward. I need a hurricane to shake up my entire existence》.

《 Well well, you might have found the right one. Our new record could be a total disaster or grant us more than I can even imagine. You pick up the right train or, at least, you will enjoy every second of my downfall》

《 You're so drammatic, like every singer. 》

Noah giggles at your last affirmation before checking his hands. 《 thanks. You're already an amazing assistant. 》

《 I'm not your fucking secretary. 》

《 So who are you, y/n?》

A broken doll.

A girl that just wants to be love.

A woman covered in scars, who has a heart hidden in meters and meters of barber wire to prevent everyone from hurting it again.

《 A friend, Noah.》

And you can tell by his smile that it's the right answer he was waiting for. And this beautiful and sincere smile could be enough to put aside any crush you can develop in order to gain a true friend.

《 Lets grab a beer, then.》

A/N : I know that probably a lot of you are here for the smut, but I rethink this ff with a lot of realistic scenarios and the idea of writing a friends to lovers. It's my first attempt on this topic, and I'm thrilling to recieve any thought about it from you! I left an important hint for the future in the text by the way.

You can also send me inbox about my ff, about Bad Omens in general or headcanons! It's gonna be fun if you give me some credit ♡

I also added a song in the beginning that should be a sort of soundtrack for the chapter. I added it to the first chapter as well if you want to check!

Lastly, if you wish to be added to my tag list, comment here or send me a pm!

[neetily]

whitney who responds to your love confession with confusion and anger. balled fists and snarled words, biting barks down at you about how fucking stupid you are, how you've ruined everything, how he wants nothing more than to punch your fucking lights out for saying something so fucking dumb. because he liked what he had with you already, and it was so easy to assume that you hated his mistreatment so that he could hide his feelings in his heart, tucked away under the guise of bullying and threats. and, well, now you've fucking done it and he can't stop his emotions from spilling out in droves. using the wrong tone, the wrong word, the wrong string of letters, the wrong adjectives, the wrong expression. and he regrets it the moment he pushes you to the side with a muttered curse under his breath, cheeks a pretty pink and brows furrowed deeply. but he just needs some space, has to settle his mind in order to respond to your confession properly.

because he didn't account for this outcome. and he feels stupid too.

[lanaxoxoxoxoxox]

guitar strings, darlin'

musician!bur x afab reader

warnings: none, just a silly lil blurb with some silly lil fluff

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wilbur and I were in a weird stage of friendship. We hang out almost every day (every other day at the very least), but if we separate for whatever reason, when we finally meet again, its as if nothing came between us. Many people, including the other members of Lovejoy, say that we're lucky to have that. Though, I don't think much of it. That's just Wilbur and I.

Wilbur and I first met at one of their first live gigs. They were playing at my local bar, so I decided to help out a local band near me. My thoughts then were, "Not like it's gonna hurt me! Nothing will come out of it for me anyways." And those thoughts? 100% wrong. Turns out, Wilbur has seen me play at the gigs I play, and happened to notice me in the audience at their gig. They asked me if I wanted to join, and I was starstruck. I was starstruck by not only getting asked to be part of Lovejoy, but by Wilbur. I mean, what can I say. He's practically an angel. He's sweet to everyone he meets, even if they're a total prick. He's funny, and god, he's pretty. Like, top tier level pretty. His eyes remind me of old brick libraries and the smell of burnt out cigarettes.

Obviously, I accepted the offer. And that's where I was brought to at this current moment. Sitting alone in the recording room with Wilbur, recording and trying out different stupid lyric ideas, with the light of an old lamp in the corner besides a burning candle.

"We need a good adjective to describe what the singer is feeling that still goes along with the rhythm of 'One Day'." I stated. Wilbur nodded his head in agreement, playing with the strings on his guitar.

Will's head looked back at me. "What if we make the chord using these notes?" I looked at his fingers, observing the notes he was demonstrating. I looked back at the guitar in my hands, struggling to find the right positions that he was in.

"How do you manage to put your fingers in that position?" I laughed. Wilbur laughed back at me, placing his guitar to lean on the desk besides us. He leaned over to me, and grabbed my hands and adjusted my fingers to the right strings. I looked up at him as he did so, getting lost from admiring the small features on his face.

I didn't even notice when Will was done with my hands until he made eye contact with me. I quickly looked away and fixed my hair. Wilbur chuckled, and lifted my chin up. He looked at the moon necklace displayed on my collarbone.

"That's a pretty necklace you got there." he said, playing with the metal. I blushed in response. He seemed to notice, but sighed, and sat back down. He then pulled his chair closer to mine.

"Can I tell you something, Y/n?" he asked. I nodded.

"I think I'm in fucking love with you."

My eyes widened at his words. Those were the words I have been waiting to hear for months at a time, and they finally came.

"I think I'm in love with you too, Wilbur." I smiled.

Wilbur looked at me and pulled my chin up slightly. "Can I kiss you?"

Instead of responding, I closed the space between us first. I could feel Wilbur smiling into the kiss. His lips were soft and slightly parted. Wilbur was the first one to pull away and he laughed. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that."

I giggled and wrapped my arms around his neck, giving him one more peck on the lips and sliding my face into the crook of his neck, giving him a hug.

"LET'S FUCKING GO! I knew it was gonna happen! Ash owes me £50 now!" Mark yelled outside the door.

Wilbur scoffed at Mark and Joe standing outside the door. "Oh fuck off!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

ahhh i love this fic so much 😭

likes reblogs and any sort of feedback is very appreciated

love ya!! <3

[fatal-furry-mark-of-the-tigers]

I don't know why, but I think about this a lot...

I go to a Girls' Night kind of tabletop gaming thing in the city every other weekend. The girl who runs it is cool as fuck, pretty chill about having the nonbinary/bisexual crowd welcomed.

But I swear, there was like...one off hand remark from someone else there that would've made my blood fucking boil if the timing had been worse.

One of us was bringing up old stories about an awkward old friendship with a high-key chaser cis dude who played Overwatch, and the second they mention that they fooled around with him sexually, some other absolute donkus just says "Eww!" and gets the appropriate paraphrased response from the storyteller of "Ok, what the fuck, I'm trying to tell a story, what the hell's your problem?"

Which got the unfortunately expected response of something stupid like "Nothing, it's just, I don't know why you'd want to have sex with an icky Overwatch-playing cis MAN..." or some bullshit.

And given one of my cis male (also bisexual and cool as fuck about polyamory) partners' history of playing Overwatch with his family, (cause y'know, who'd have thought you weren't an inherently evil person for being comfortable having a male-ID'd dick and playing a fucking video game with a funny gorilla with a gun? Crazy thought, right?)

I tried downplaying it and joking about how I'm more concerned about the chaser in question if they were still playing at Overwatch 2, but if that had hit with worse timing, I would have easily flown off the shits and gotten kicked out for throwing hands with the "Eww" girl in question who by the way, just DID NOT let up on this subject for like 20 minutes and kept interrupting the storytelling to interject about her low to mid-key vehement hatred of smelly cis men, it was so goddamn annoying.

Between the phrase "not all men" poisoning the well, people just...saying shit like "Some segregation is good, actually" (Actual fucking quote from some asshole regarding gendered bathrooms and locker rooms I saw in a public Discord server before, word for word in the quotes, I am not even fucking kidding), and all the "ugly, smelly, evil cis m-m-men" rhetoric fucking shit up for cis dudes who are just comfortable being dudes and sexually open enough to respect trans people just fine and putting an obnoxious stigma on trans people who just feel like consensually fucking whoever's up for it without people getting nosy about it.

I keep going out of my way to say "partner" and "they" in that gaming spot in reference to two of my partners who are blatantly cis men who happen to also be really extra cool about a bunch of weird sex shit I'm into. Maybe just let me say that in "lesbian safe" spaces without being a bitch about phrasing. Maybe just don't be weird about bi/pan/whateversexual people of fucked up ambiguous gender or anything else if they call someone their boyfriend who explicitly goes by he/him and isn't transgender.

Maybe acknowledge that you are not immune to propaganda, and any gender or sexuality differences from other people doesn't exempt you from being kind of a cunt.

People seem like they forget the original literal definition of queer on a disturbingly regular basis.

queer

/kwir/

adjective

adjective: queer; comparative adjective: queerer; superlative adjective: queerest

1. strange; odd."she had a queer feeling that they were being watched"

Any later sex or gender connotations aside, it literally just means "fucking weird", and that's cool and all, but you really gotta accept how much that actually means there's no universal standards for that word. It's meant to be strange, odd, and infinitely versatile.

Just stop with trying to rewrite it into having some clearly defined rule set.

It doesn't.

It's just 'weird'.