#sucks I’m not the type of bitch for festivals

[latenightdaydreams]

I have an idea that Konig is Ghostface and he's been stalking reader for a while. He found out reader is a bookworm outside but literally a cunt inside. Like she never comes to parties, spend hours with her vibration instead. One night, Konig sneaks in her house and rape her fat unused pussy 😩😩😩

🤭🤭🤭YES😮‍💨

Ghostface!König x Nerd!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

🚫TRIGGERS🚫

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, bondage, voyeurism, stalking

3.1k word count

👻

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The first time König saw you was at the campus Valentine's Day party. You showed up dressed in a festive pink sweater, but then sat in the corner with a stank look on your face. His eyes followed you as you seemingly complained to the girl you came with, a friend? Either way, your breasts and sensual body shape caught his attention.

König walks up to a guy that’s talking to your friend, “Wer ist das?” He asks, pointing to you.

“She’s a bitch,” the girl's friend hits his chest as if to tell him to shut up.

“She’s just shy. She hates parties.” Christa, your friend, defends you.

They all stand there and watch you gather your things and walk out the door without saying bye to anyone, not even your friend. Interesting. What type of woman are you? He was intrigued and wanted to see more of you. See what those bouncy breasts look like outside of that pink sweater.

After this first encounter, he dedicated his time to following you around campus. First, only to figure out what your schedule was. What classes do you take, what teacher do you have, what building the classes are in, etc. Just the basics.

He stalks behind you, far enough behind that you’d never notice; but close enough to listen in on any conversations you had. Which was basically zero. You kept to yourself no matter what you were doing. If someone interacted with you, you’d have such a poor attitude about it. Snappy, short, lots of eye rolling. This went on for two months.

One day, König set up a forced interaction. Dressed casually and slicked his blonde hair back. He looks handsome, standing at 6 '10 and being pure muscle. He knows he is attractive; his personality just sucks, much like yours seems to.

He lingers outside your second class of the day and looks around as if he were a lost student. Once he sees you, he walks over.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Your eyes dart to him as you take out an air pod. “What?” Your tone is unkind.

“I’m lost and I don’t know which room-”

“I’m late for class.” You cut him off and walk past him.

König just watches as you walk away with a smirk on his face. He knows once he has you in his hands, he’d have fun breaking you. After that, he waits for you to leave class and follow you home. Since you would not get to know him the typical way, he would continue getting to know you in the shadows.

You walk fast, but he has no issues keeping up. Your hips sway hypnotically, keeping his attention. Finally, you stop at a cute one-story home. He watches as you take your keys out and enter your home. Waiting a few minutes before he walks up to peek into your windows. He looks around to make sure no neighbors are watching as he walks up to your house, crouching.

Eyes peering through the first window, he sees your living room. Your shoes kicked off by the door, TV turned on already, and backpack thrown on the couch. His eyes scan the room, trying to take in every detail.

Continuing on he comes to the next window. He sees you and ducks back, worried you might have seen him. After a few seconds of no screams, he creeps back to the window. There you are. Taking off your shirt and jeans, just standing there in your beige bra and blue cotton panties. Totally unaware you’re being watched as you check yourself out in your dresser's mirror.

Watching like a hawk as you open the top draw and pull out a pink little vibrator. König could already feel his pants begin to tighten. You walk to your bed, grabbing a towel that’s folded underneath the bed. Laying the towel out, getting your pillows situated, and moving the blanket. It’s almost like a ritual and König’s interest is definitely piqued. 

He watches as you lie down on the bed. Your pretty pussy covered with a little bit of hair, as you spread your legs he can see the pink within your folds. Fuck this is gold…

König quickly undoes his pants as he watches you pick a setting before moving it to your little clit. Through the window he can hear how loud you’re being, your legs twitch from the stimulation. All the while König stands there feverishly stroking his leaky cock. Imagining him running up to you and shoving his cock in that tight little pussy…

Your hips begin to grind into the vibrator as your head drops back on to your pillows. Your left leg is starting to tremble… König watches without blinking as your innocent pussy begins to squirt. Fingers replacing the vibrator, you start rubbing your clit quickly. Your sweet juices are spraying everywhere. He bites his lip as he begins to cum, accidently cumming on the siding of your house. It felt as if he were a wild animal and just marked you, leaving his scent behind to deter other predators.

This became a ritual for König as the school year went on. He would follow you around campus, watch who you talk to, see how you interact with the world. Occasionally he would try to go up to you and just talk nicely, but every time you shot him down. As if you’re better than him. Then he would follow you home and masturbate outside your window as you play with your tiny cunt.

That was until summer break happened. You went away to work as a camp counselor for the summer, leaving König behind. With you gone, König felt lost. He spent most of the summer inside watching porn. Looking for actresses that resemble you, but none could match your perfect breasts or pretty pink cunt.

August rolls around and classes start back up. König walks into his social science class and sees you… perfect. You sit in the front, middle. Teacher’s pet know-it-all, of course you’d pick there to sit.

König sits in the very back, where he has a clear line of view in your direction. He watches as you rest your head in the palm of your hand. How you cross your legs and squeeze, as if you’re trying to stimulate some sort of pleasure. Little slut, you can’t even control yourself in class. All the obsession comes rushing back to him. He needs you.

Halloween rolls around. König is handed a flier for a costume party that will be happening at one of the sororities here on campus.  His new friend Carl, your friend’s boyfriend, goes out with him to buy costumes.

 They both walk through the Halloween store and talk casually. He tries to think of ways to ask about you without being so direct.

“Is Christas bitch friend coming?” König chuckles to make it seem less important to him.

“Y/n? Probably not. She never shows to support anything Christa does. When she does, she’s in a foul mood and just leaves. It breaks Christas heart.” He sounded genuinely upset with you and your behavior.

“What’s her deal anyway?”

“I don’t know. Little stuck up virgin bitch thinks she’s better than Christa because she’s waiting until marriage.”

Virgin. That’s why you only touch your clit; you don’t want to “pop” your cherry.

“Is she religious?”

“Probably. I never cared to ask. Let’s just hope she doesn’t show up and ruin it.”

“Yeah.” König didn’t want you to show up, but for a very different reason. He had something special in the works.

Reaching up, König grabs a Ghostface mask and holds it up to his face. “Hey, what about this?”

.

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Halloween night, König puts on the black robe over a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt, and a small satchel bag that has duct tape and rope. A real knife in his hand. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, looking at himself. Blonde hair longer and pushed back, dark circles under her icy blue eyes, and a twisted look on his face.

“You got this. You can do it.” He whispers as he slips the mask over his face.

König leaves his shared apartment on campus and walks down the street while the sun is just beginning to set. Other students rush past him, all heading to their own Halloween parties. Towering over everyone dressed as Ghostface, he had a few people jump out of fear. From behind the mask, he apologizes while laughing. As if he is a normal guy.

Finally, he approaches the steps on the sorority. Walking inside he sees that there are a few other Ghostface at the party already. König rolls his eyes under the masks. His attention turns to the staircase as he hears Christa and Carl arguing. Without being seen, he walks closer to listen in. It’s clear that she’s talking about y/n.

You bailed. Probably home studying or making yourself squirt. The thought gives König a chub. You’re exactly where he hoped you would be. At first, he was nervous this wouldn’t work out for him. No, you never change. Easy to track. Before he is seen, he slips out of the doors.

He blends in easily for once in his life. Everyone dressed up like freaks or sluts. The giant isn’t the main focal point today. Once he enters your neighborhood, he notices the empty streets, but very loud house music. All of your neighbors seem to gather, yet your home's lights are on.

Cautiously, he approaches your living room window. Boom, there you are, asleep on the couch. The TV on TLC, some random trash television show. He attempts to lift the window in front of him, but it’s locked. Moving down a window to your bedroom, also locked. König walks around the back and tries the back door, locked. The kitchen window is a little smaller, but he still tries it. Open.

Carefully, König climbs through the window. His massive body just barely begins to fit, but he manages. Slowly he climbs off of the counter that was right under the window, being sure to not kick anything off the counter and possibly wake you up.

Once stable on the floor he stood there for a while and looked around your kitchen. Your style was quirky, which was odd because you act as if you have no personality. Before waking you up, he goes into the bedroom and gets that towel you keep under your bed. He lays it out on the bed the same way you do. Even arranging the pillows and blanket for you.

Reaching into his bag under his black robes, he takes out the rope and tape. The rope he leaves on the bed as he walks out of the bedroom with the tape. He pulls some and he can be quick to shut you up.

With soft steps he makes his way to the living room. He can see your hands are in your hands as if you fell asleep masturbating. A virgin whore. He’s ready to just make you into his whore. Standing over you as you sleep; eyes drifting over your breast and the tiny bit of midriff that is showing.

Slowly lowering his face closer to you until he sees your eyes open. At first it’s as if you didn’t register what you saw. König tilts his head. Then you open your eyes again and begin to scream. Quickly he covers your mouth with the tape.

“Shhh,” his eyes go wild behind the mask.

You try to stand and get away but his massive body easily overpowers yours and slams you back down into the couch.

“Don’t fucking move.” He hisses as he cuts the tape with the knife. Pulling more, he adds an extra layer.

With ease he lifts your body from the couch, pinning your arms to your side so you can’t hit him. Your legs kicking as he brings you into your room; eyes going wide as you see that he set the bed up the same way you set up when you masturbate.

König giggles looking at your face, “I did good, ja?”

He grabs the rope and tosses you on the bed. As you try to stand up, he pushes you back hard, “Give up Maus, you’re mine tonight.”

Using his massive body to pin you down, he climbs on top of you. Your face down into the mattress as he grabs one of your arms and pins it behind your back before grabbing the other. He uses the rope to tie your hands together, tight enough to dig into your flesh.

“I’ll show you how to have a really good time.”

König stands and grabs your body, turning you to rest on your back, nuzzled in the pillows like when you masturbate. He walks to your dresser and takes out the small pink vibrator. You look up at him with wide eyes, it’s clear that he’s been watching you.

“Now, don’t move, or I might cut you.” He says leaning back over your body as he begins to cut your shirt from your body. Your full breasts come into view and he can’t help the temptation of reaching up and pinching your nipple. You try to scream through the tape, but the sound is muffled.

His attention drops down to the waistband of your pajama pants. Slowly he pulls them down. Seeing your cunt face to face instead of at a distance was breathtaking. Speechless, he moves his fingers through the soft hair that covers your pussy. Finally, he can feel you, smell you, taste you.

“If you move, I’ll gut you.” He threatens as he begins to settle himself between your legs.

He lifts his mask slightly and takes in a deep breath of what your pussy smells like. It’s almost sinful. He has to taste it. Slowly he slips his tongue out and swipes it through your folds. You squirm slightly but stop, remembering the knife. He swipes his tongue up again. If he knew you were this sweet, he would have broken in sooner.

Shoving his face into your pussy he takes a deep breath before sucking on your clit. He bites it lightly, causing you pain as your body jerks away. Not letting you move; he wraps his arms around your legs tightly to hold you still. Spit running down his chin as he aggressively laps at your cunt. He slurps your pussy juice before biting your labia. Again, you jerk in pain and König just laughs as he pulls his mask back down.

Once he stands from the bed he just looks down at your naked body. He begins to pull off the black robe, tossing aside the satchel. Stripping down to his birthday suit, but the mask stays on. His body is massive with a cock so heavy it hangs.

He grabs your pink vibrator and turns it on, gently holding it to your clit. His eyes light up as your legs begin to tremble. Muffled little moans escaping your lips. You can’t help but to feel pleasure, even though you’re in this situation.

“Good…kleine Hure.” He turns off the vibrator and sets it aside. Inching closer to you, he slaps his cock on your pussy a few times.

“Ready?”

You shake your head no and try to scoot away from him, but he grabs your legs and drags you back to him. “No, no, no, you’re not getting away that easy.”

Looking down at your cunt he rubs the head of his cock back and forth over your clit. Slowly he slips down. With one hard thrust of his hips, he bullies his monster cock deep inside of your unused pussy. The tightness of your cunt was something only his hand had ever given him.

“Mien Gott, you really were a virgin.” He chuckled.

König grabs your legs and lets them fall over his arms as he holds your ass up off the bed slightly. His hips rolling rapidly into you, looking down he can see blood on his cock. A soft growl leaves his lips.

He lets your legs drop as he leans over you, one of his hands wrapping around your throat lightly. “My fat unprotected cock just ruined your pretty virgin cunt.”

You try to turn your head away from him as tears begin to roll down your eyes, but he doesn’t let you. He turns your head back to face him.

“Eyes open. I want to see the shame when I make you cum.”

You open your eyes as you have no choice but to listen. His free hand reaches down between your legs and begins to rub your clit. Trying to resist the pleasure was impossible, your legs tremble as your pussy feels as if it were torn in two.

He watches as you shake your head no. Your pussy getting tighter on his cock, he knew. He pulls out quickly, shoving his middle and ring finger into you. He presses down on the lower part of your stomach as his fingers curl, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

You drop your head back and he slaps your pussy, “Eyes on me!” His voice a low growl.

Lifting you head back up to look at him, your eyes cross from the explosion of pleasure you’re feeling. You squirt, hitting the Ghostface mask slightly, getting it all over König’s hands and arms.

“That’s what I want to see!” He excitedly slips his cock back into your pussy. His eyes watch as you wince in pain.

His hips move mercilessly into you. “I’m going to cum deep inside of this pussy. You’re going to get pregnant with my babies. You like staying home anyway, right?”

The look on your face as he talks down to you is full of fear and it’s just enough to get him off. He presses his cock fully into you, your cries of pain muffled buts still so beautiful. König cums deep inside of you. His seamen painting every inch of your velvety walls. A loud groan leaves his mouth as he tries to press in even further.

The look on your face is almost relieved as he cums, that means this is over with. So, you thought. He pulls his cock out, covered in blood and cum. In one quick motion he flips you on to your stomach, pulling you down the bed a little. He sits on the bed now, one leg on either side of you. König leans forward to pull the tape off of your mouth and drags you closer to him by your shoulders.

“You’re going to clean this.” He says slapping his cock on your face a few times. “Open.”

You don’t struggle, opening your mouth wide. The taste of salty cum and blood assaults your taste buds. His hand grasping a fist full of hair and shoving his cock down your throat. Your body thrashes, legs kicking as you gag.

“Get used to it, Maus. My cock isn’t leaving your throat any time soon.”

[tnystrk-exe]

Comfort bands throughout the years.

Middle school was MCR and Hollywood Undead. High School was cut between Avenged Sevenfold and Twenty One Pilots. Then for a good while it was Queen. Ghost kinda feels like a somewhat natural progression. If I actually paid attention to tours as a kid I would’ve found them sooner. Pity.

[melovez]

I wanna hear what you have to say about Clint! I’ve always been p neutral towards him since he’s not an NPC I interact with often anymore and I don’t really have any strong feelings about his characterization, so hearing someone who appreciates him would be cool (esp since it seems like 90% of the fandom really hates him lol)

i think the best way to go about this for me is to counter the common arguments i see against clint? so that’s what i’ll do

my big long explanations below the cut

1. Clint is a “nice guy”

clint makes misguided comments in his first heart event, yeah. but this isn’t a prolonged trend for him. clint does not remark that he feels owed anything. clint does not remark that emily is a bitch or anything for not returning his feelings. if anything clint just yearns at his seat at the saloon until happenstance puts him and emily in the same conversation. i don’t really think he’s ever forward or creepy towards her, not canonically. at festivals when he talks to the player about her it’s him confiding in the player. is it weird? yes, of course it’s weird. but he’s not a bad person for it, he’s just painfully awkward

2. Clint is ugly

is he ugly? is he really? are you just letting your preconceived dislike of him influence how you think he looks? is it because he’s one of like 4 fat characters in this game? like maybe that’s a little harsh but what with how many people i see slim down and buff up everyone in the valley when they draw them, even characters that have clearly rounded faces and figures in their sprites, even characters that remark about their own weight like shane, i do think i’m justified in wondering if the fact that clint doesn’t fit the box of slim fit hansome young bachelor has anything to do with why people say he’s ugly.

3. Clint is stalking Emily

i think this stems from a misinterpretation of the heart event where he asks emily out on a date. hes not hiding in the bush because he wants to watch her in secret. he’s hiding in the bush because he chickened out when he was on her doorstep. he even says he just wants to leave. he wasn’t hiding there with a pair of binoculars or anything, when the player shows up it’s not long after he fled to hide.

4. Clint doesn’t deserve Emily

i see people who hate clint say this often and like… yes? did you read the note in his room where he admits he has no chance with her? like this is a matter of opinion ultimately but it’s another thing that gives me the impression people who say these things about clint never actually take the time to get to know him before they judge

5. Clint still hits on Emily after you marry her

this one i agree sucks but honestly i chalk it up to how he’s programmed. i do not think it was concernedape’s intention to make him hit on your wife. also it’s not like crushes magically go away after your crush starts dating someone else. again, i agree this is definitely uncomfortable but without an update to the game or a mod there’s no way around it

6. Emily hates Clint

i see this one in headcanons a lot and it’s just so absolutely baseless it’s clear people who hate clint are just trying to justify themselves doing so. emily never says anything bad about clint. emily seems to want to go to grampleton with him, even just as friends. i mean they’re listed as friends on the stardew wiki. i don’t know what else to say. these characters have absolutely no ill will between them canonically

Conclusion

so like. here’s what i think is happening.

first, people take a liking to emily. they do all emily’s heart events first. emily’s eight heart event makes them not like clint, and i mean of course it does, even i can admit he soured that heart event with emily. and then i think since that makes people not like clint, they go into all of his heart events already not liking him, and this leads them to misinterpret everything he does, and in turn understand him to be some antagonistic chatacter.

but he’s not. clint is really just like any other mediocre dude in this game. hell, i think shane is a WAY more unlikable character than clint is and yet i see shane fans shitting on clint like he’s worse! i seriously don’t understand it. don’t get me wrong, shane is one of my favorite bachelors, but if you ADORE shane and DESPISE clint it really makes me wonder what the difference there is.

if anyone reads this and take personal offense to it i apologize that i made you feel that way but in the end stardew valley is a game you are welcome to consume however you like. don’t like clint? don’t talk to him, then. i do not think less of you for doing so. but when i see people in the tag being like “omg there’s so little content of (very popular bachelor/bachelorette)” i die a little inside because there’s basically only three types of clint fan content. fic/art where he’s a background/side character, fic/art where he’s portrayed as a slob/asshole/nice guy/pig/idiot, or on rare occasions, fic/art where he’s shipped with emily. and i do not want to see literally any of that.

there is like 1 good clint fanartist on tumblr but i don’t wanna name drop in this post cuz i don’t wanna draw negative attention to them but i can recommend them elsewhere.

anyways that’s my defense of clint. make of it what you will

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 14: Dinner as a Family: Part 2

Warnings: blood, strong language, sexual themes, nipple play, penetrative sex

Summary: Miranda finally makes it known why Juniper’s place at dinner was important

Feedback appreciated. 18+

When the main course was served the maids brought out plates with cuts of red meat and delicate steamed vegetables.

Juniper cut into the meat, seeing blood ooze under her knife. Calling it rare was reaching.

In the past meat like this would have turned poor Juniper’s stomach. But now, with a monster waiting in her belly, the smell mixed with the thick wine made her mouth water.

She took a large bite, eagerly starting to cut a second as she chewed.

Her enthusiasm took the rest of the table off guard. Heisenberg’s jaw tightened worriedly.

“Enjoy it, Dear?” Alicina smiled smugly.

Juniper nodded, her pupils dilated ever so slightly.

The meal went by with little talk, the table feeling tight. Heisenberg did little more than pick at his food, eating around the more well-done edges of the meat and filling up on bread.

Juniper felt a type of hunger she couldn’t describe, finishing her plate and a second glass of wine.

She glanced around the table: Angie was speaking to Donna, both nodding and deep in the conversation. Moraue was having a time of trying to cut his meat, resorting to just shoving the whole piece into his widened mouth. Lady Dimitrescu was trying to be delicate with her silverware, something her large hands made very difficult. And lastly, Miranda took small bites, eyes always moving.

Juniper’s face felt hot, licking her teeth. She stood from the table, stiffening a bit when she felt multiple eyes follow her. Heisenberg looked at her questioningly.

“Just…need to visit the bathroom.” She mumbled awkwardly.

Lady Dimitrescu raised her head, snapping her finger once. A maid quickly came into the hall.

“Show dear Juniper to the guest bath.” She instructed.

The maid bowed, turning to Juniper, “This way m’lady.”

Excusing herself, Juniper quickly followed the girl.

Heisenberg frowned down at his plate, pushing it away slightly.

“You seem very taken with her.” Miranda observed, peering over the top of her wine glass.

When Heisenberg didn’t respond she continued, “It’s a good thing, you’ve never gotten along well with your other siblings.”

Her words turned his stomach. “Juniper isn’t a Lord.” He reminded her, keeping his voice even.

“Ah, but that is one of the reasons I asked you here.” She smiled.

He looked at her curiously, worry rimming his eyes.

“I think our little Juniper could grow into Lordship, in time.” Mother Miranda nodded, taking a long sip from her glass, “She just needs to nurture her abilities.”

She wanted Juniper to become a lord?

Heisenberg frowned, “And what do you have in mind?”

“Always impatient.” Her eyes narrowed, “I want you to take her on the hunt.”

“Why?” He spoke too quickly, earning him a scolding look.

“Now, Heisenberg, you can’t expect to keep her holed up in that dump of a factory forever now, can you?” Lady Dimitrescu commented.

Before he could bark back Miranda confirmed, “I think her unique abilities will be suited perfectly for the task.”

Heisenberg remembered her mutated form and it’s resemblance to the varcolacs, wondering how much about Juniper’s powers she knew about.

“She isn’t ready.” He tried to argue.

“This isn’t up for debate.” Miranda’s voice commanding, “Think of it as a test, to really see her powers.”

Heisenberg nodded, worry curdling his gut.

~

Juniper washed her hands in the large marble sink. Still feeling flushed, she splashed cold water onto her face. She looked up, eyes catching her own gaze in the gilded mirror.

Her breath stuck fast in her throat, heartbeat quickening.

Her reflection looked wrong, the longer she looked the more it twisted before her: her eyes were dark and blown out, almost wild, her jaw was extended, fangs peeking out.

She took a shaking breath seeing more eyes open along her forehead.

Juniper reached up a shaking hand, feeling along her face, smooth skin greeted her fingertips. She blinked, the image gone.

She looked at herself again, flushed and fearful, but it was her.

She touched the surface, sucking in a shaking breath.

What was hidden just beneath her skin?

~

Juniper returned to the table, looking slightly pale.

“You alright?” Heisenberg asked, concern rimming his eyes.

“I’m fine.” She lied, taking her seat. He didn’t look convinced but relented for the time being.

For dessert they were all served their own savarină cake. It was small and golden colored, soaked in rum, filled with sweet cream and topped with blueberry jelly.

Juniper looked up to see Angie giving little grabby hands to her keeper. Donna cut her cake in half, offering one side to Angie. Juniper couldn’t help her lips twitch, as Angie squealed with glee.

Ever a fan of sweets, and seeing this as the most edible thing they were served other than the bread, Heisenberg ate his in a few swift bites.

He glanced over to find Juniper doing little more than pick at the cake.

“You sure you’re ok, Doll?” He pressed in a little more than a whisper.

“I…may have drank too much wine.”

“Hmm.”

“Would you like my dessert? I don’t think I can manage it.”

He perked up almost excitedly. They exchanged plates: Juniper taking his clean one and him her serving. The second cake didn’t fare much better, or longer for that matter.

Once dessert was finished and the maids cleared away the plates, Miranda stood.

“Thank you again, all my dear children.” She nodded to them each, “I trust everyone will play their part during the Hunt?”

The table murmured a yes, Heisenberg unable to meet her eyes.

“Good, then I will take my leave.” She spoke swiftly. Before she could make it to the door Lady Dimitrescu stood to follow, wanting to show Miranda a few last minute things.

“Well…not eat and run.” Heisenberg stretched before standing, “But I hate this fucking castle.”

He leaned against his hammer as Juniper said her goodbyes.

Donna gave her a sweet little wave, Angie practically screamed a heartfelt goodbye, and Moraue thanked her again for her kindness.

Finding their way back to the entryway, Juniper made a sound of realization.

“Oh! My coat!” She suddenly looked worried.

“Where’d you leave it, Buttercup?” Heisenberg sat his hammer down as he spoke.

Thinking for a moment she snapped her finger, “It’s in the changing room, with my old dress.”

“Let’s go get it.” Heisenberg started to stride away, picking his hammer up. Juniper rushed to keep up.

They retraced their steps, finding the changing room rather quickly. Juniper went in, relieved to find her clothing still folded just where she’d left it. Turning around, she almost jumped,e seeing Heisenberg standing behind her.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” Juniper hissed.

“I don’t give a fuck.” He chuckled looking into a wardrobe, “You think the mega bitch keeps her fancy ass hats in here?”

Juniper pulled on his arm, “Lets go.”

“Ah!” Heisenberg straightened, holding a black lace veil, “Not a hat but one of the girls frilly shit.”

He draped the fabric over his hat, pulling it down around his head, like a babushka.

“Look good Doll?” His lips curled in a shit eating grin.

“Heis…” Juniper tried to stifle a giggle to not encourage him.

“What else do you think is in here?” He rummaged in the wardrobe again, “Think there's a sexy little dress for me?”

“Sexy?” Juniper smirked.

He looked back at her, “Hell yea. That dress makes me want to take you right here.”

Juniper flushed.

Seeing her reaction he pulled the veil away, tossing it to the floor and pulling Juniper to his chest. Looking down through her chest window he licked his dry lips.

“How about we go find an empty room and get you out of that little number for a while, hm?”

The thought of Heisenberg taking her within the home of his least favorite person made a small shiver of excitement run down her spine.

“Only if we’re careful…and fast.” She gulped.

Smiling roguishly, “Well be gone before anyone notices.”

~

After opening several doors and racing quietly down the halls, they finally discovered a free bedroom. It was opulent, as were most rooms in the castle, but had the stale air of dust. It felt safe and far enough away from the night's festivities to serve them well.

Heisenberg walked in whistling, “Damn, swanky!”

Juniper went in more timidly, closing and locking the door. Heisenberg turned and looked her over. “Aw, you look so shy, kitten.” He smirked.

She shot him a look.

“I’m just worried.”

“Why?”

“The…sisters.”

“You worried about the bugs?” He smirked, looking towards the large windows. His eyes narrowed for a moment as the handle rattled open, the window burst open with an icy breeze.

“There,” he soothed, “No bugs will bother us now.”

He slipped his hand into the chest window of her  dress, fondling her breasts. Juniper mewled, feeling him lightly tug at her piercings.

“Careful” her words were a whisper.

Heisenberg kissed down her neck, finding her sweet spot and biting down. She gasped, feeling warmth bloom between her legs.

He lathed his tongue over the mark, groaning out slightly. She felt him take a fistful of the dress, pulling out of his grip. He gave her a warning look, pale eyes narrow.

“Don’t rip this dress!” She hissed. He had nearly closed the distance to do just that, but halted when he saw her gather up the material and pull it over her head.

Her skin prickled in the cold air, she tossed the clothing away, falling back against the fancy bed in only her boots.

“You didn’t wear any panties?” Heisenberg’s face split wolfishly, more blood rushing to his cock.

“I knew you couldn’t be a good boy all night.” She rubbed her thighs together, “Now get over here before we get caught.”

Ever wanting to please her, he instantly complied, unzipping his pants and letting his belt fall free as he closed the distance.

His skin was hot and welcoming as he pressed down onto her, crashing his lips into her own.

Juniper’s hand drifted to his chest. His piercing had long since fully healed, not needing as much time as normal humans.

She purred mischievously as she tugged on his nipple, rolling the metal between her fingers.

He hissed out, pulling away to darkly chuckle, “Oh honey, now is not the time.”

She gave it another tug, “What do you always say to me?” She tried to mimic his voice the best she could, it was a poor imitation still, “Sing for me!”

He pulled away with a huff. Before she could react he flipped her over, pushing her face into the bed. Juniper mewled, raising her hips.

Heisenberg loved to see her in just her work boots and nothing more.

He eagerly pushed into her, earning a moan to slip past her pretty lips. She was already wet and dripping around his cock. He bent over her, stomach pressed into her back, hot scar flush against his chest.

He felt her trapped legs tremble as he fucked her open on the expensive furniture. He reached a hand around her, rubbing circles into her clit as he kept a face pace. Seeing her in that revealing dress and dealing with his shitty ‘family’ had him on edge, and he was ready to blow off some steam.

It didn’t take her long to become a whimpering mess under him. He felt her cunt clench, liquid squirting out around his cock. Juniper cried out, clawing at the sheets.

Heisenberg pumped into her roughly, loving the mess they were making. He brought his hands to her hips, forcing her back into him.

He pulled out, pumping his fist down his sensitive cock, turning enough to splatter his load over the expensive bed sheets.

“Oops.” He smirked, a cocky look over his face.

“Karl?!” Juniper’s cheeks reddened, “We’ll get in trouble.”

“We better get going then.” Heisenberg chuckled, pulling his pants back on.

Juniper struggled to redress quickly, worry thick on her face. She felt like a guilty teenager.

After she had her coat back on and her hair smoothed down she looked up to Heisenberg.

He was sitting on the window sill, one leg already hiked over to the outside.

“What are you doing??” Juniper hissed.

“Uh…?” he looked down at himself showily, “I’m going out the window, Doll.”

“Yea, why?”

“I’m not going out the front fucking door.” He smiled toothily, “Gotta keep our little lay a secret right? Keep them guessing.”

“Heisenberg.” She folded her arms, fixing him with a hard gaze, “You and Moreau are the only two in this whole castle with a penis. I think they’ll know who came all over their guest room.”

“Aw, give the fish freak a break.” Heisenberg put his other leg out the window, “The maids are probably cock hungry enough to give him a ride.”

“Karl!” Juniper scolded, padding up to the window.

She looked down, realizing  they were on the second story. She gulped.

Seeing her fear Heisenberg soothed, “Don’t worry, buttercup.” He offered her his hammer, “Just hang on and I’ll set you down all nice and easy.”

She bit her lip, reaching out a trembling hand, fingers wrapping around the cold metal.

“Hold tight.” He warned. She complied, swinging her legs over to the outside. The wind bit her skin, the hammer in her hands floating before her. It felt unmoving in her grasp, steady and unwavering. She tried to brace herself.

She closed her eyes, nodding and pushing away from the sill.

“Good girl.” Heisenberg smiled, her trust in him making his heart swell.

He concentrated on lowering her as easily and carefully as he could. She kept her eyes shut tight, arms beginning to ache from supporting her weight.

Sooner than she expected her boots met the frozen earth, sending a surprising jolt though her.

Juniper let go, the hammer staying in place for a moment before snapping back into Heisenberg’s hand. He came down next, much quicker and without the caution he used for her.

As soon as his boots met the ground, he hooked his arm around Juniper’s.

His face was alight with glee as he started off into the night.

“Come on!” He laughed, “Let’s get out of here.”

She kept pace with him, the adrenaline and his mirth causing her to join in with the laughter.

[bitchybutcher]

Texts I sent a friend the first time I watched The Boys, Season 1:

-        HERE WE GOOOOOOO

-        Butcher has said approximately 5 words

-        I’m already dead

-        I should not be this turned on by such a fuckin maniac

-        Oh ok so Homelander digs a mommy domme

-        Ok no but Annie needs a hug. She needs to be protected at all costs

-        Why is Hughie only hot covered in blood?

-        Deep needs to choke on a bag of dicks but also he’s an insecure baby who wants to feel important

-        I love Frenchie. I have nothing else to say about him I just love him

-        Butcher needs to stop saying things. Every time he opens his gob the fanny flutters get worse

-        I like this Mister Milk guy

-        Oh ffs Homelander is legit jealous of a baby

-        This subby bastard needs to go on fetlife or the femdom subreddit and get himself an actual mommy domme

-        Poor Hughie in the middle of this domestic between Frenchie and the Milk guy

-        FUCK Butchers chest looks good in this episodes shirt

-        Frenchie you perv no of course no cameras in toilets

-        OH his name is Mothers Milk not Mister Milk

-        The Maeve actress looks really familiar imma have to google to find out what else I’ve seen her in

-        Ohhhh Homelander is insane insane

-        I mean he’s pretty, and he’s hilarious, but WOW

-        He’s a lil off on the crazy/hot scale

-        WHY ARE THEY WATCHING ATRAIN GET HIS TOES SUCKED

-        WHY ARE THEY WATCHING

-        Ohhhh no Atrain is a using BASTARD GIRL BEAT HIS ASS

-        Welp imma be listening to Butcher say “we’ve gotta get some” on a loop for days

-        Maeve is so sick of Homelanders shit

-        Yup I’m shipping Hughie and Annie hard. They’re so adorable and they both really just need a hug

-        WHY DO THEY KEEP WATCHING THIS DRUG WOMAN DOING SEX THINGS

-        Well episode 4 is officially my favourite:

He said my name

He sleeps nude

BUTCHER BUM

-        Oh ok so Deep is actually just a soft baby

-        He’s in therapy omg

-        He needs a hug

-        HIS NAME IS KEVIN

-        And he loves dolphins and he’s lonely oh man why am I feeling bad for this douche he assaulted Annie

-        Hughies phone beeps and immediately the guys are like “he got texted by a girl, look at his face, has to be”

-        Oh Frenchie is a subby boi too apparently

-        WHY ARE THERE SO MANY SUBBIES IN THIS SHOW I WANNA HUG THEM ALL

-        Kevin and his soft spot for dolphins is melting my heart this kid just wants to do good things and he really needs a cuddle

-        They’re on a bowling date oh my god they’re too precious

-        KEVIN STOLE A DOLPHIN IN A VAN

-        KEVIN IS HAVING A BREAKDOWN AND ALSO GETTING ARRESTED

-        Oh dude I’m such a slut for Butcher this isn’t even funny

-        Homelander is insane and I adore that but also I’m LIVING for Maeve’s facial expressions when he’s on his bullshit

-        Frenchie is such a sweetheart with his lil home cooked meal and setting her cutlery properly

-        I feel bad for the female

-        Why does Hughie only have one jacket

-        Oh boy the Jesus nutters festival

-        Ngl the stretch Armstrong fella is kinda attractive

-        “You’ve done a murder, comparatively speaking, blackmail is a piece of cake”

-        Girl help I’m in love with a fictional unhinged angel muffin

-        I WANNA KNOW WHO’S BEHIND THE FLY THAT KEEPS BUZZING AROUND THEM TOO CLOSELY

-        Shapeshifter? Some kind of Antman type person??

-        More importantly how do I find a genie to make Butcher real cause no joke I love him

-        Oop Toni’s kiwi accent slipped out when he said mayonnaise

-        Homelander is the neediest little subby bitch boi I swear to fuckin god

-        HUGHIE WITH THE GAY BLACKMAIL

-        Ooooo something shady with Becca…tenner bets it’s something to do with Homelander somehow

-        OH SHIT IS MAEVE A LESBIAN

-        Ok so I adore Kevin the Deep. He’s comfort eating junk food and looks like he’s been crying cause of the dolphin

-        Aww Annie standing up for herself

-        OH NO SHE’S CALLING OUT SAD KEVIN THE DOLPHIN SQUASHER

-        Oh wait no ok she didn’t actually say who it was

-        I don’t know why I feel protective over Sad Kevin but he’s so sad and he’s so bad at doing good but he’s trying and dear lord he needs a cuddle

-        Hughie clapping Annie after she basically told them all to fuck off  😂

-        THEY’RE TURNING BABIES INTO SUPERS

-        LASER EYE BABY

-        ANNIE AND HUGHIE FINALLY GOT TO HUG

-        Butcher just weaponised a baby. What. Like it was a little gun

-        Homelander is NOT getting horny cause Stillwell called him a bad boy and started mommying him OMFG

-        And now she’s calling him her good boy with her shirt open

-        Subby boi and his mommy domme I FUCKING CALLED IT FROM THEIR FIRST SCENE

-        CRAZY SILENT LADY IS A WOLVERINE WHAT

-        Bitch got gutted then just like eh no big lemme just knit my internal organs back together

-        YES ANNIE TELL STILLWELL WHERE TO STICK HER SHIT

-        Awww Kevin tryna do good again he’s so cute

-        A DUDE GOT HIS DICK FROZEN OFF WHAT THE FUCK

-        Kevin is so bad on camera oh dear

-        He’s trying to apologise and he’s so bad at this

-        Who and what the fuck is Black Noir

-        IT’S THE I SEE DEAD PEOPLE GUY. HE’S THE MIND READER PERSON THAT’S AMAZING

-        Awwwwwww lil baby Homelander

-        They need to stop making me feel fuzzy over dickheads

-        Kimiko trusts Frenchie this is precious

-        Jamming out to the end credits song is one of the best parts tbh, the soundtrack is boss

-        I feel so bad for Kevin

-        He’s been exiled to Ohio and he’s sad

-        They didn’t even give him a plushie dolphin to cuddle

-        I’m rooting so hard for Hughie and Annie, this had better work out for them

-        WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING TO KEVIN

-        GILLS AREN’T FOR FINGERING

-        Oh what I’d give to have Butcher stalking menacingly after me in a train station

-        Sixth sense guy doesn’t know how lucky he is getting cornered in a bathroom stall by the hottest psychopath on tv

-        Yeah I’d let him smash me on a sink any day

-        Oh no not more Sad Kevin

-        Traumatised baby needs someone to mind him

-        BUTCHER SHOT ANNIE?!?!?!?

-        Oh god Homelander in Syria this can’t be good

-        BOBBY FROM SUPERNATURAL????

-        Aaaaaand more Sad Kevin

-        Yeah I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s doing the full breakdown shave

-        Oh no sad Annie

-        Atrain is gonna do himself an injury

-        Black Noir is hilarious even though they don’t say anything and have no face

-        Soooo he admits to creating supervillains behind her back, and she tops him? As reward??

-        This bish does remember what happened to Becca, right? Demon spawn clawing out of her

-        Frenchie and MM bonding in captivity 🥰

-        Ooooh conflicting stories re Homelanders baby

-        Not Hughie going in all badass and immediately getting creamed 😂

-        The retainer! Hughie is a genius

-        I mean he’s a dumbass

-        But so smart

-    ��   Hughie: *firing machine gun* I’M SORRY I’M SO SORRY

-        YES ANNIE!!

-        SAVE YOUR SOFT DUMB DUMB BOYFRIEND AND HIS BUDDIES

-        Uh oh

-        Roided up Atrain

-        Oop heart attack

-        Oh fuck he melted her face

-        OH SHIIIIIIT

-        Butchers hurt little face nooo

-        Oh ok season 1 is over

-        …it’s 5am

-        Aaaaand I can see daylight

-        I’m very tempted to just pull an all-nighter and watch season 2

-        But bed also sounds nice

-        I think bed

-        Dream of Butcher

[rigmarolling]

Historical Holiday Traditions We Really Need To Bring Back

Here comes Santa Claus, and also a bunch of annual holiday Things we do to ensure he commits a truly boggling act of breaking and entering and leaves goods underneath the large plant in the living room.

Because I’ve always got a hankerin’ for the days of yore, here are some historical holiday traditions we really need to bring back:

1. Everything that happened on Saturnalia

Saturnalia was the ancient Roman winter festival held on December 25th--which is why we celebrate Christmas on that day and not on the day historians speculate Jesus was actually born, which was probably in the spring. 

Saturnalia was bonkers. As the name suggests, it celebrated the god Saturn, who represented wealth and liberty and generally having a great time.

Above: Their party is way cooler than yours could ever hope to be.

During Saturnalia, masters would serve their slaves, because it was the one day during the year when everybody agreed that freedom for all is great, actually, let’s just do that. Everyone wore a coned hat called the pilleus to denote that they were all bros and equal, and also to disguise the fact that they hadn’t brushed their hair after partying hard all week, probably.

Gambling was allowed on Saturnalia, so all of Rome basically turned into ancient Vegas, complete with Caesar’s Palace, except with the actual Caesar and his palace because he was, you know. Alive. 

The most famous part (besides getting drunk off your rocker) was gift-giving--usually gag gifts. Historians have records of people giving each other some truly impressive white elephant gifts for Saturnalia, including: a parrot, balls, toothpicks, a pig, one single sausage, spoons, and deliberately awful books of poetry. 

Above: Me, except all the time.

Partygoers also crowned a King of Saturnalia, which was a predecessor to the King of Fools popular in medieval festivals. The king was basically the head idiot who delivered absurd commands to everyone there, like, “Sing naked!” or “run around screaming for an hour,” or “slap your butt cheeks real hard in front of your crush; DO IT, Brutus.”

Oh, wait. Everyone was already doing all that. Hell yes.

(Quick clarification: early celebrations of Saturnalia did feature human sacrifice, so let’s just leave that bit out and instead wear the pointy hats and sing naked, okay? Io Saturnalia, everybody.)

2. Leaving out treats for Sleipnir in the hopes of avoiding Odin’s complete disregard for your property

The whole “leave out cookies and milk for Santa” thing comes from a much older tradition of trying to appease old guys with white beards. In Norse mythology, Odin, who was sort of the head god but preferred to be on a perpetual road trip instead, took an annual nighttime ride through the winter sky called the Wild Hunt. 

Above: The holidays, now with 300% more heavy metal.

Variations of the Wild Hunt story exist in a bunch of European folklore--in Odin’s case, he usually brought along a bunch of supernatural buddies, like spirits and other gods and Valkyries and ghost dogs, who, the Vikings said, you could hear howling and barking as the group approached (GOOD DOGGOS).

That was the thing, though; you never actually saw Odin’s hunt--you only heard it. And hearing it did not spark the same sense of childish glee you felt when you thought you heard Santa’s sleigh bells approaching as a kid--instead, the Vikings said, you should be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

Because Odin could be kind of a dick.

Odin was also known as the Allfather, and like any father, he hated asking for directions. GPS who? I’m the Allfather, I’m riding the same way I always ride.

And that was pretty much it: “I took this road last year and I’m taking it again this year.”

“But,” someone would pipe up from the back, “there are houses on the road now--we’re gonna run right into them. We could just take a different path; there’s actually a detour off the--”

“Nope,” Odin would say. “They know the rules. My road, my hunt, my rules. We’re going this way.”

So if you were unlucky enough to have built your house along one of Odin’s favorite road trip sky-ways, he wouldn’t just plow right past you.

He would burn your entire house down--and your family along with it.

Kids playing in the yard? Torch ‘em; they should have known better. Grandma knitting while she waits for her gingerbread Einherjar to finish baking? Sucks to be her; my road, my rules, my beard, I’m the Allfather, bitch.

Above: Santa, but so much worse.

To be fair to Odin, he could be a cool guy sometimes. He just turned into any dad when he was on a road trip and wanted to MAKE GOOD TIME, DAMN IT, I AM NOT STOPPING; YOU SHOULD HAVE PEED BEFORE WE LEFT.

To ensure they didn’t incur Odin’s road trip wrath, the Vikings had a few ways of smoothing things over with Dad.

They would leave Odin offerings on the road, like pieces of steel (??? okay ???) or bread for his dogs, or food for his giant, eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, because the only true way to a man’s heart is through his pet. 

People would generally leave veggies and oats and other horse-y things out for Sleipnir, whose eight legs made him the fastest flying horse in the world and also made him the only horse to ever win Asgard’s coveted tap dancing championship. 

(Side note: EIGHT legs...EIGHT tiny reindeer...eh? Eh? See how we got here? Thanks, nightmare horse!)

Above: An excellent prancer AND dancer. 

And if Odin was feeling particularly charitable and not in the mood for horrific acts of arson, children would also leave their shoes out for him--it was said that he’d put gifts in your boots to ring in a happy new year.

If all that didn’t work and the Vikings heard the hunt approaching, they would resort to throwing themselves on the ground and covering their heads while the massive party sped above them like a giant Halloween rager. 

So this holiday season, leave your boots out for Odin and some carrots out for his giant spider horse or you and your entire family will die in a fiery inferno, the end.

3. Yule Logs

Speaking of Scandinavia, another Northern European winter solstice tradition was the yule log. Today, if you google “yule log,” something like this will pop up:

...which isn’t an actual log, but is instead log-shaped food that you shove into your mouth along with 500 other cakes at the same time because it’s CHRISTMAS, and I’m having ME TIME; so WHAT if I ate the whole jar of Nutella by myself, alone, in the dark at 3 am?

But that log cake is actually inspired by actual logs of yore that Celtic, Germanic, and Scandinavian peoples decorated with fragrant plants like holly, ivy, pinecones, and other Stuff That Smells Nice before tossing the log into the fire.

This served a few purposes: 

It smelled nice, and Bath and Body Works scented candles hadn’t been invented yet.

It had religious and/or spiritual significance as a way to mark the winter solstice.

It was a symbolic way of ringing in the new year and kicking out the old.

Common belief held that the ashes of a yule log could ward off lightning strikes and bad energy.

Winter cold. Fire warm.

Everybody loves to watch things burn. (See: Odin.)

The yule log cakes we eat today got their start in 19th century Paris, when bakers thought it was a cute idea to resurrect an ancient pagan tradition in the form of a delicious dessert, and boy, howdy, were they right.

In any case, I’m 100% down with eating a chocolate yule log while burning an actual yule log in my backyard because everybody loves to watch things burn; winter cold, fire warm; and hnnnngggg pine tree smell hnnnnggg.

(Quick note:  The word “yule” is  the name of a traditional pagan winter festival, still celebrated culturally or religiously in modern pagan practice. It’s also another name for Odin. He had a bunch of other names, one of the most well-known being jólfaðr, which is Old Norse for “Yule father.” If you would like to royally piss him off, or if you are Loki, feel free to call him “Yule Daddy.”)

4. Upside down Christmas trees

I just found out that apparently, upside down Christmas trees are a hot new trend with HGTV types this year, so I guess this is one historical trend we did bring back, meaning it doesn’t really belong on this list, but I’m gonna talk about it, anyway.

Side note: Oh, my god, that BANNISTER. I NEED.

Historians aren’t actually sure where the inverted Christmas tree thing came from, but we know people were bringing home trees and then hanging them upside down in the living room as early as the 7th century. We have a couple theories as to why people turned trees on their heads:

Logistically, it’s way easier to hang a giant pine tree from your rafters upside down by its trunk and roots. You just hoist that baby up there, wind some rope around the rafter and the trunk, and boom. Start decorating.

A Christian tradition says that one day in the 7th century, a Benedictine monk named Saint Boniface stumbled across a group of pagans worshipping an oak tree. So, instead of minding his own damn business, he cut the tree down and replaced it with a fir tree. While the pagans were like, “Dude, what the hell?” Boniface used the triangular shape of the fir tree to explain the concept of the holy trinity to the pagans. Some versions have him planting it right-side up, others having him displaying a fir tree upside down. Either way, it’s still a triangle that’s a solid but ultimately very rude way of explaining God. Word’s still out on whether anyone was converted or just rightly pissed off that this random guy strolled into their place of worship, chopped down their sacred tree, and plopped HIS tree down instead. Please do not do that this holiday season.

Eastern Europeans lay claim to the upside-down tree phenomenon with a tradition called podłazniczek in Poland--people hung the tree from the ceiling and decorated it with fruits and nuts and seeds and ribbons and other festive doodads. 

(God, who lives in these houses? Look at that. That’s like a swanky version of Gaston’s hunting lodge. Where do I get one? Which enchanted castle do I have to stumble into to chill out in a Christmas living room like that?)

Today, at least in the West, upside-down trees are making a comeback because...I don’t know. Chip and Joanna Gaines said so. 

Some folks say it’s a surefire way to keep your cats from clawing their way through the tree and then puking up fir needles for weeks afterward, which checks out for me.

5. Incredibly weird Victorian Christmas cards

So back in the 19th century, the Christmas card industry was really getting fired up. Victorians loved their mail, let me tell you. They loved sending it. They loved getting it. They loved writing it. They loved opening it. They loved those sexy wax seals you use to keep all that sweet, sweet mail inside that sizzling envelope. (Those things are incredibly sexy. Have you ever made a wax seal? Oh, man, it’s hot.)

The problem, though, was that while the Victorians arguably helped standardize many of the holiday traditions we know and love today (Christmas trees, caroling, Dickens everything, spending too much money, etc.) back in 1800-whenever, a lot of that Christmas symbolism was, um...still under construction. No one had really agreed on which visual holiday cues worked and which...didn’t.

Meaning everyone just kind of made up their own holiday symbols. Which resulted in monstrous aberrations like this card:

What the hell is that? A beet? Is that a beet? Or a turnip? Why is it...oh, God, why does it have a man’s head? Why does the man beet have insect claws? 

What is it that he’s holding? A cookie? Cardboard? A terra cotta planter?

And then there’s this one:

“A Merry Christmas to you,” it says, while depicting a brutal frog murder/mugging. 

What are you trying to tell me? Are you threatening me with this card? Is that it? Is this a threat? How the hell am I supposed to interpret this? “Merry Christmas, hide your money or you’re dead, you stupid bitch.”

Also, why is the dead frog naked? Did the other frog steal his clothes after the murder? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?

Victorian holiday cards also doubled as early absurdist Internet memes, apparently, because how else do I explain this?

Is this some sort of tiny animal Santa? A mouse riding a lobster? Like, the mouse, I get. Mice are fine. Disney built an empire on a mouse. And look, he’s got a little list of things he’s presumably going to bring you: Peace, joy, health, happiness. (In French. Oh, wait, is that that Patton Oswalt rat?)

But a LOBSTER? What’s with the lobster? It’s basically a sea scorpion. Why in the name of all that is good and holy would you saddle up a LOBSTER? I hate it. I hate it so, so much. Just scurrying around the floor with more legs than are strictly necessary, smelling like the seafood section of Smith’s, snapping its giant claws.

This whole card is a health inspector’s worst nightmare. It really is.

I gotta say, though, I am a fan of this one:

Presumably, that polar bear is going in for a hug because nothing stamps out a polar bear’s innate desire to rip your face from your skull than candy canes and Coke and Christmas spirit.

This next one is actually fantastic, but for all the wrong reasons:

I know everyone overuses “same” these days but geez, LOOK at that kid. I can HEAR it. SAME.

If you’ve ever been in a shopping mall stuffed with kids, nothing sums it up better than this card. This is like the perverse version of those Anne Geddes portraits that were everywhere in the late 90s. “Make wee Jacob sit in the tea pot; everyone will--Jacob, STOP, look at Mommy; I said LOOK. AT. MOMMY--everyone will love it.”

Actually, you know what? Every other Christmas card is cancelled. This is the only card we will be using from now on. This is it. 

Wait, no. We can also use this one:

Merry Christmas. Here’s a fuckin’...just a dead fuckin’ bird.

[nightshadedawn]

Persona 5 Royal Playthrough pt3

I ended up going through two Palaces before I could update y’all. Oh well.

...Yeah, no, quit calling me Miss Special Snowflake's boyfriend. It's not happening.

Ryuji, Morgana, and Yusuke having a conversation in the laundromat: "It's like he's our mom," says Ryuji... the mom friend.

Every time Morgana is like "I have to turn into a human so no one else can have Lady Ann!" then expects no one else to hear him makes me laugh. Like, bitch, no.

I have the restaurant in my Thieves Den 'cause I like it. Yusuke, Ryuji, and Morgana are there. They're so precious.

I got a three in a row Tycoon on cutthroat!!!

Ryuji and Ann just keep going "Shoulda figured" and other versions of the statement every time I win.

Ann just rejected Morgana's feelings HARD. I am happy.

Ryuji is too good, honestly. Why would anyone not like him? He's... He's always trying to build the team up, make them proud of themselves and what they've done. I will admit that he has his moments of being not a great human, but they're teenagers who were given absurd powers, so honestly, can you blame them?

I didn't know darts was an actual minigame! There's so many minigames. I'm so happy.

I don't like Akechi. I don't know why some people do. Like, his death scene was a bit... too late for a redemption for me, right after he tried to kill Joker, several times. His pain is understandable, but still... I can't.

Their "two sides of the same coin" also doesn't seem particularly fair. It's totally uneven in everything but color schemes.

Guys, GUYS, please, PLEASE decide whether you're going to react to my teasing or not.

"We don't have to deal with them directly," Ryuji says joyfully about the mafia. Oh you sweet, sweet, innocent child, if only you knew what I do.

I literally can't play this game around anyone else because I tend to yell "BABY!" to Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke and "BITCH" or "FUCKER" to... a rather long list of villains in this game... and Makoto.

I can literally feel Yusuke's anxiety about his painting when you take him to Leblanc to see Sayuri.

How can you say Yusuke isn't gay when he says everything I do is beautiful?

I love Ryuji's 9th social link. It's LITERALLY written like a confession scene. This also means I kinda hate it because... I can't date him.

Also... PRETTY BOY RYUJI PRETTY BOY RYUJI PRETTY BOY RYUJI

I actually kinda thought that the new scene for Ryuji being a crossdresser is kinda funny??? Is this bad??? I wanna see him in a dress, tho. I gotta agree, he'd be a natural. Not the like, painfully obviously not taking it seriously from the dancing game, though.

Though I do think it's valid that he freaks out when two strange adults come up to him and try to take him somewhere, especially in a place known for being shady, and at night.

...When Ryuji complains about it, I do feel bad about ditching him. Then again, I blame the cat.

Ryuji may be my ideal type on paper, but I'm also highly attracted to Yusuke and this is so totally unfair.

*softly chanting* butlers butlers butlers butlers

Don't mind me just... *makes meticulous plot to avoid having Makoto join the team that i may or may not write a fanfic about*

Makoto is one dumbass bitch. Like, honestly, there's nothing she does that's in any way remotely smart.

...I thought I'd just skip Makoto's scenes until she became relevant, but here I am, still skipping her scenes. Does that mean she’s still irreleveant?

"Witch" I suggest, and Makoto complains! "Would you prefer "Bitch"? I can use that too.

I put Yusuke on the team in the middle of the palace through settings, replacing Morgana, who had been standing right behind me. Which made Yusuke stand right behind me. It looked like he was holding onto my waist and standing uncomfortably close. Bro, babe, I love you, but not in front of my boyfriend and girlfriend!

Just accept the compliment, guys, I'm not going to compliment Queen.

...Opening chests with Ann or Ryuji is just so sweet because they're so affectionate and touchy feely. Especially Ryuji.

Math. Fucking. Sucks. I should not have to use math in a game. I hate this. Obviously it's the Palace Makoto comes in that this happened.

Well, I finished the Palace in a day. I love the feeling. But it was getting close there. Joker and Yusuke were down to no spells...

...Yoshizawa hasn't showed up yet. When is she getting shoehorned in?

WHY IS THE VELVET ROOM RED!?

My very first playthrough I didn't execute a single execution except for the first one we have to do. It  really screwed me over my second playthrough...

...I broke the electric chair. That's certainly something that happened.

147 games of Tycoon later and I've only been a beggar 31 times in total, versus the pure thirty wins in just Cutthroat.

They're in their summer uniforms and it makes make miss warmer weather already. It's fucking snowing outside. Grrrr.

Beat Kaneshiro! ...Wasn't a fan of his new boss battle. I'm even playing on safe mode! But whatever.

Makoto is a DISASTER at Tycoon. She exclusively got beggar all three times I played with her!

...RYUJI YOU CAN'T SAY SHIT LIKE THAT AND NOT LET ME DATE YOU.

Ann, sweeties, baby, you're doing so well.

She confessed to me, then in the call afterwards it was basically insinuated I proposed... WHICH IS LIKE FUCK YEAH 'CAUSE SHE ACCEPTED IT.

It makes me think of the future conversation where they're talking about marriage.

Anyway, if you haven't noticed, l love Ann.

My next playthrough I'm not gong to date her, though. I'm a completionist and I want ALL of the possible awards. But... I refuse to cheat on Ann. So I'll date everyone else then just hang with Ryuji... despite how cringy some of the date things are.

...If Akechi wasn't, you know EVIL and tried to KILL ME, SEVERAL TIMES, I might, MIGHT, like him. But in truth, I think that's really just the Persona 5: Revival talking. We get... into some stuff during that.

I know that either Atlus or the translators know EXACTLY what goes on in the Persona fandom because otherwise "He's too pretty to be wrong" would not be an option when talking to the newspaper girl about Akechi. I have to agree with her that his looks aren't really, you know, awesome enough for that.

Also, I read it as "He's too petty to be wrong" at first and I think that's an accurate sum of his character.

YO AKECHI-FUCK I HAVE NO NEED TO SEE YOUR ASS LIKE THAT WHEN I HAVE BOTH A BF AND AND GF.

...fucker fucking giving me shit about my fake glasses...

If you COULD date the boy out of mod, Akechi would definitely be the one they were pushing you to date. Like Makoto. Or Yoshizawa.

But hey, at least I get to not be nice to him.

I remember seeing this picture where Ann, Ryuji, and Joker kept going to the movies together and seeing 3D movies, and Joker couldn't wear the 3D glasses properly because of his own. I keep imagining that picture during this event with Caroline and Justine.

You know what? Some people call Joker a loli lover because of them, but nope! He's just adopted two more siblings. That is my stance on it.

FUcking

Fucker

WHAT THE FRRRRRRRR

FUCK YOU ATULS OR TRANSLATORS OR WHATEVER

APHRODITE AND MARS ARE FROM TWO DIFFERENT MYTHOS. Aphrodite is GREEK, Mars is ROMAN. Their reversed are VENUS and ARES. USE ONE OR THE OTHER PEOPLE.

I get very pissed about this, and it's worse with Hades.

7/4 is the day I am screaming at, if you were wondering.

My dad asked me if the other students think Joker's stupid because every time I answer a question right they get all surprised.

I don't really like Makoto, as I'm sure you've noticed, but she was super nice about Ryuji's special move idea. And that put her ahead of Akechi in my book.

TESTS ARE NERVE WRACKING EVEN WHEN THEY'RE FICTIONAL

Yusuke and Ryuji are good boys, the best boys. And they're so awesome about their special move.

AND RYUJI OFFERED MONEY FOR YUSUKE'S FOOD. And implied that he did it before???? Ryuji, you best boy.

This boys' outing DOES make me happy, though. Like, insanely happy. Dunno why.

Maybe because Joker gets to be so flipping cheesy.

...fuck you, Yoshizawa.

HONESTLY WHAT THE EVER LOVING--- Grr. Too many choices while with her. Too many. OOC Joker when with her. 0/10.

I LOVE THE FESTIVAL PHOTO

And you know, it's really hard to choose between Lala-chan and Ann, but... GONNA TAKE ANN ON A DATE

Got her some flowers. Lets see if we can give them to her this time!

"Such a good FRIEND." Babe, we're DATING. For like, TWO WEEKS NOW.

AND I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO GIVE HER FLOWERS

Ann called Yusuke a pretty boy, but then she's missing out on the REAL pretty boy, Pretty Boy Ryuji.

Ryuji, why're you so worried about other girls when you've got ME?

"I like the shade." "What are you, moss!?" Oh, admit it, Ryuji, I'm growing on you.

Cargona. Snrk. Gods, I love you, Ryuji.

Dome town with Ryuji! "Isn't it all couples?" That's the point!

I COULD GIVE RYUJI THE ROSES!?

Sadly, I bought those for Ann. Ryuji, you get the noodles.

AND HE FUCKING LOVED IT.

"It feels like I really captured Ryuji's heart!" FUCK YEAH I DID

Gonna give Yusuke the bracelet when I get the chance.

Why is everyone color coded in the chat room? Kawakami, Akechi, Mishima, and the reporter are all ORANGE. What's the point? Well, Akechi's more of a golden orange, but close enough.

While Mishima is not my first choice for a date, he's definitely not my last.

...But the boy really needs some fucking sleep. He's not drawn with the bags under his eyes, but I can see them!

It's not fair that they give Akechi a kicked puppy sprite. I'm... goddamnit, they're trying to make me not hate him.

When Makoto doesn't know something, I'm brought great joy.

NO DAD MAKOTO IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND ANN IS AND SHE IS LITERALLY R I G H T T H E R E

First day in Futaba's Palace! I've gotta say, this is my second favorite palace. Kamoshida, Futaba, Madarame, Sae, Okumura, Shido, Kaneshiro, Holy Grail. In that order. I HATE Kaneshiro's place and dealing with the Holy Grail. But whatevs, man. I love this game. (Vanilla, at least, this one is still on the fence)

I found out a cool little thing. On the uphill sand slopes in the town (don't know about anywhere else) if you're running and turn back quickly, Joker will do a little animation to steady himself. It was cool and made it seem, I dunno, more human? Anyway, while I was admiring this, Ryuji and Yusuke just stood at the top of the slope and Ann followed me while I was running. Best girlfriend ever.

Kin-Ki is looking pretty kin-ky if you know what I'm sayin'

Please don't murder me because I do terrible puns.

*we fall through the trap door* *Ryuji starts screaming* Same, baby, same.

...Makoto is seriously annoying. Like, she's got no business acting as familiar with Futaba's situation. The one who WOULD be the most familiar is Yusuke, and I'm glad he recognizes that. It's not the exact same, none of their stories are after all, but I feel like those two get each other better than even Ryuji and Joker understand each other.

Yusuke and Ryuji's special attack is THE BEST

Ryuji and Joker getting up close and personal in the shadows. All those fanfics coming true, man.

I thought Futaba was sloth, not wrath? Why are her Will Seeds called Wrath?

Beat it in one day! It's so satisfying to watch all those achievements when I leave the palace.

You know, I'm thinking of wearing the Christmas outfits for the final battle. Just to be kinda funny.

Spending a relaxing day with Yusuke after going through Futaba's Palace... kinda want to take him to the bathhouse to check out that new scene, but I also REALLY wanna feed the boy... gonna feed the boy.

Apparently I can only make 'decent curry.' Which is fine. Because "I" can't make curry at all. Joker, you've done much better than I.

THE DATE CHANGE SCREEN HAD A RAINBOW AND RYUJI WAS COMING OVER ON THE SAME DAY FUCK YEAH MY BISEXUAL BABY

...Broooooo, the way you talk about your manga is how I talk right before I start shipping.

Took him to the bathhouse, 'cause I don't gotta worry about Mama Sakamoto feeding him.

...Can I take Ann to the bathhouse?

Asked Ryuji to move in. He was all up for the idea until he remembered that I live in an attic.

I'm Charismatic now!

...I was all hoping Ann would stop by but then Akechi asked me out. Laaaaaaaame.

Ryuji's smile is so fucking cute.

...I say we just be honest, and everyone's so fucking stupid about it until Makoto explains it. This pisses me off. They're not that dumb... At least, they weren't until Makoto showed up.

Futaba's hiding in the closet. ...I've spent too many weeks making jokes about closets to not have a joke about it.

Really, Yusuke? You see those books and think she can't understand?

...Wait, that sassy tone of voice... You were TRYING to pull a reaction of her. I knew I shipped those two for a reason. OTP and BroTP. Doesn't matter, they're both awesome.

I love you Ann, but I don't think your situations were the same at all. It's not like both are valid and bad, but... different.

Joker is SO fast compared to the others, especially when he's speeding.

What the...

Holy fuck...

JOKER IS TOO EFFING COOL

THAT MOVE TO GET FROM THE ENTRANCE TO TO TREASURE DOOR? Awesome!

Damn, Joker has my heart too.

I kinda wish we could see Futaba's costumes in her Persona. That would be pretty neat.

The moment right before Wakaba appears is so aesthetically pleasing.

...Futaba being happy is almost enough for me to accept Maruki's offer, and I haven't gotten there yet.

Ryuji and Ann keep smacking each other out of their ailments. Like, you guys just love each other so much! It's awesome.

Joker has lackluster responses to Wakaba... I'm hoping that isn't one of those "Answer these wrong and you break her!" things... Not that I think I was, but still.

I liked Futaba's new animation for when she defied her mother.

I wish the anime looked more the cutscenes. I'm trying to rewatch the anime so I can pinpoint specific moments for future editing purposes, but it's kinda painful.

1- This is the SECOND TIME you've landed on Yusuke while running from trouble.

2- YUSUKE LET GO OF MY GIRL

No Makoto, I don't want to go see Futaba with you! I can go see her myself.

So, I like Takemi's new voice with her lines during this scene.

Sure, she collapses every so often and sleeps for a while. Stays like that for a few days. Sorry that I put her into a coma for a month, Boss...

SHE LOOKS SO CUTE WITHOUT GLASSES

Guys, we have a month. Stop worrying.

THE TWINS ARE SO CUTE WHILE HANGING ONTO THE BENCH PRESS

Damn, Joker's dying to the amusement of two little girls.

I'm kinda disappointed I didn't get results for all that training. But I liked the scene.

Yusuke just casually be lugging bigass paintings around.

Taking the girls to the church may have been one of the funnier moments. These cement them as Joker's little sisters. With Futaba. Damn, Joker, you got no brothers.

Yusuke promises to come by every day and we can tell him to take his clothes off. ATLUS, you have some EXPLAINING to DO.

..And Yusuke took it and ran with it. My sweet summer child, I don't think I could handle you in as little as possible on the day to day.

"The heat induced delirium made me think outside the box." Same.

Guts takes sooooooooooooo long to level up.

"Punish me more" he says, as if Takemi won't do it.

"Good god. Well, none of my medicine can cure THAT." AT LEAST WE'RE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE

BATHHOUSE WITH YUSUKE

Awe, he had fun. :)

[joheun-saram]

To Make A Power Couple (knj) | 05

Chapter 5: 30 under 30

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Summary- After a bout of long distance our couple reunites for a weekend where they are both invited to the Forbes 30 under 30 celebration.

word count- 13k 😅

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers, angst (😱)

warnings- alcohol consumption, softdom!Joon, oral sex (f. receiving), orgasm denial, explicit sex, hints towards depressive mindset, overworking

a.n- new chapter? NEW CHAPTER! AND THERE’S ANGST?! I would like to point out that the Namjoon’s struggles in this chapter are in no way meant to reflect the real Namjoon’s thoughts. This is a fictional character. I use writing as an outlet to work through my own issues so the only headspace they accurately reflect is my own at times. If you relate, or need someone to talk to you, my messages are open - I’m here for you!

Thank you so much for the love you all have given this series so far! I’m loving writing this! Also, I’m still simping for this couple and writing the last two scenes was heartbreaking.

s/o to @moccahobi​ for beta reading! ily!

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii​, @jinjccns, @joyful-jimin @sideblogger​ @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

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“So how much do I have to bribe Sejin to let us be in the same room for the Forbes thing?” You settled in bed, wearing one of your boyfriend’s t-shirts, as you Facetimed him a few countries away, his scent making you feel closer to him. To say his comeback had him busy was an understatement. Since the night you two had agreed on labeling your relationship, you only had a few weeks together to cuddle, visit your favorite places, and argue philosophies of the books you were reading, before being thrown into a long-distance relationship. First, your investor meetings had you traveling from San Francisco to Seoul every few weeks and then he set out on the Asian leg of his promotions and mini-tour. The days that you were in the same city were spent staying in bed and ordering take-out (mostly jjajangmyeon to satisfy Namjoon’s cravings), alternating between his apartment and yours.

“Literally nothing? Obviously we’re in the same room! He’s not gonna stop me from staying with my girlfriend who I haven’t seen in like two months.” He looked tired, his brows creased as he massaged his shoulder. Your heart panged wishing you could be there to massage it for him.

“Oh. But what if we get caught?” This was not a new concern. Since day one, you had to ensure that all your dates were private, pretending you both were single at events you were obligated to attend. He had an image to portray and although it sometimes weighed on you that you always had a group of friends with you whenever you went out in public and that you couldn’t hold hands during your outings, you respected him too much to tarnish his career.

“By who? The room service guy?” He rolled his eyes as he now started to punch his shoulders.

“Yes, or fans who hack the security system. I remember some One Direction fans doing that.” You pretended as if some of those fans were not your old university friends. You don’t talk to them anymore, but you have to admit it was hilarious seeing a group of coders hunched over their computers to get access to grainy pictures of Harry Styles walking in the hallways.

“You are so paranoid. We’ll be fine, baby. Trust me.” He dismissed you with a huff as he finally let go of his shoulders and moved on to removing his makeup.

“Also, I didn’t know you told your company.” You both had decided to wait to tell BigHit about your relationship until you were done with this long-distance leg, opting to go in together to announce it. Neither of you wanted to go public so you assumed the meeting was going to be quick and painless.

“I told people who needed to know. Hyung included.” He shrugged.

“Aww, I was looking forward to sneaking around some more!” You joked as he carried his phone to the bathroom to wash his face.

“You’re annoying.” He whined as he put on copious amounts of skincare before dropping on his hotel bed like a brick. Looking at his bare face, his dark circles and tired eyes were much more evident. Tonight’s show must have been really hard on him.

“Aw, do you miss me, baby?” You cooed, hoping to make him laugh. You wanted to hug him, cuddle with him as the little spoon as you usually did when he had a hard day, but all you could do at the moment was make jokes and hope that was enough. Shit, you missed him.

“I always miss you. Phone sex sucks.” He sighed, making himself comfortable among the pillows.

“I knew it! You only like me for the sex.” Just give me one laugh Namjoon, come on. A chuckle, anything!

“Yes and your sexy brain, pretty girl.” He laughed lightly as he stared at you through the screen, the longing in his eyes mirroring yours.

“Hey! That’s my line!” You giggled, relieved to see the crease between his brows finally disappear.

“Fuck! Three more days!” He said excitedly, shaking the phone in his hand making him look more like a crazed anime character with his new pink hair and lopsided glasses than your boyfriend.

“Three more days!” you squealed.

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

Your body ached from the thirteen-hour flight as you walked through the lobby of the Metropolitan Detroit hotel with Siwon. Grateful for how organized Namjoon’s company was, you seamlessly checked in and made your way to your suite, dropping off your stuff before meeting Siwon at his to go over the weekend itinerary. Even though you knew he was still in the air since the boys and his flight wasn’t due to land for another five hours, you texted him your safe arrival.

Over the past four months since the gala, Jiyoung’s hard work had started to pay off. You were no longer an unknown entity controlling a company; you were now an “influencer entrepreneur”. Your personal social media, now closely tied to the company, showcasing not only usual photos of you at museums and galleries (courtesy of Namjoon’s camera) but photos of you in boardrooms and speaking at events (courtesy of Siwon’s camera). You had significantly surpassed your corporate accounts in followers over a month ago, with a steady stream coming in after your interview in a fashion magazine of all things (apparently your “street style” was deemed a breath of fresh air for businesswomen) and another stream coming in when you were invited to this year’s class of Forbes 30 under 30. 

Although you usually didn’t care for flashy awards such as this, Jiyoung had worked overtime on your nomination and the fact that you were one of the ten people invited from Korea made you pretty happy. The coverage and clout that came with your invite had made you a role model for young female entrepreneurs and that was something you were actually proud of. When you started out there were barely any female mentors and you wanted to change that, give back to other young women running their own ventures. You were excited to meet women around your age who you could relate to this weekend. This was one of the first years that there were this many women invited, making up almost 40%, and your extroverted self was buzzing. Of course, an added bonus was that out of the ten winners from Korea, one was your boyfriend and six were his bandmates, who were slowly but surely becoming your close friends as well. You had been looking forward to this weekend since it was announced a month ago.

Arriving at Siwon’s room you ordered some lunch and planned out the weekend. Tonight was a free night where you could explore the city and the pre-festival activities, although to be honest after almost two months apart, the only thing you’d be exploring tonight was your boyfriend. Tomorrow would be a brunch meet for all the winners followed by a gala in the evening filled with dancing, dinner, and drinks. Then the next day was the festival, which you were still undecided about wanting to attend or not.

“Honestly, it’s up to you. It seems pretty useless to attend if you want to hang out with Namjoon instead.” Siwon offered as you both started on a pro-con list for reasons to attend.

“I don’t know. What if there are some big clients we could get?” Although you missed him dearly, there was no way you could forgive yourself if you let your heart cloud your judgment.

“Yes, we can definitely teach Detroit some English.” Siwon rolled his eyes. “Most of the companies here are tech companies, too small for our caliber. Take a break. This month’s been tough.”

As much as you wanted to disagree with Siwon, he wasn’t wrong. This past month has probably been the toughest month for you in terms of deadlines and stress in the past two years. With the added pressure of maintaining a public persona, your days at the office had stretched from the usual ten hours to sixteen. Most of the time you would be holed up at your desk going through proposals or stuck in meetings with your board as you planned strategies after strategies for expansion into Japan only to get shut down and asked to reassess by one or multiple of them. On top of that, your evenings were booked with conferences where you were invited to speak, given your new spotlight. Most times when you reached home you barely had the energy to change as you fell into bed, falling asleep under ten minutes, usually with Namjoon on the phone as he went through similar motions. You were stressed. Even this short trip was cutting into your time and although you had made good use of the plane’s wifi to work, there was still one proposal that you would have to finish sometime this weekend. Suddenly, the idea of not going to the festival was looking better, so you relent to Siwon as you bid him goodbye and make your way back to your room.

After a quick shower, you decided to work on the proposal before Namjoon arrived but soon as you sat on the desk typing away, the exhaustion of the day caught up with you, and with your head on the table, you drifted to a dreamless sleep.           

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

Namjoon hadn’t been this excited in a long while. He could barely focus on the conversation in the car as he followed the little blue dot on his phone that was showing the way to the hotel. He had texted you as soon as he landed but you hadn’t responded and he was getting a bit antsy.

“Namjoon! Are you paying attention? Hey! I’m talking to you!” He begrudgingly looked up from his phone to see Jin pouting at him annoyed that he missed his comment. He rolled his eyes at him as he launched into a rant about him never listening to his stories. How Jin had this much energy after a twelve-hour flight was lost on him.  

“Let him be. He’s just excited to see Y/N.” Yoongi spoke, not even bothering to open his eyes. Although Namjoon was glad that Yoongi had his back, he wished he hadn’t said anything because suddenly everyone forgot about their long flight and started cooing. He felt himself get annoyed as their teasing increased but he couldn’t help the goofy grin that made its way to his face. He couldn’t be mad at them, they all had people at home they were missing, and he was lucky that unlike them he could get a break from missing you and actually hold you in his arms. He wouldn’t tell you but initially, his company had decided to send in their regrets for this event but he may or may not have convinced them to move the shoot for their new music video that was taking place in Los Angeles to next week so they could be here this weekend. If he had to just see you through his screen for another month he was going to go crazy. If it was up to him he would not leave your side at all the next three days.

Namjoon had to restrain himself from sprinting to his room as soon as he was handed the key card. He barely noticed a few of his members following him as he opened the door to spy you hunched over the desk in the corner of the large room, your laptop displaying multiple pictures of your friends and the both of you together. He figured you were asleep but he couldn’t wait to gently wake you up as he usually did, instead opting for screaming a loud “baby” and running to hug your sleeping form.

What he didn’t expect was for you to wake up so startled that you scream and elbow him in the ribs making him stumble backward till his butt met the floor, much to the entertainment of Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook who were cackling in the background.

“Oh my god! Joon?” He could see your face go from confusion to recognition and then into one of the most beautiful smiles he had seen as your puffy eyes go wide. “Joonie!”

You launched yourself from your chair into his arms as you collapsed on top of him in something between a hug and a cuddle as both of you fell to the floor erupting in giggles. Your scent enveloped him and he could feel himself getting delirious. He didn’t know whether it was the long flight or the long-distance but his heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest. He hadn’t been this happy in a long while.

“I missed you!” He exclaimed as he peppered aggressive pecks on top of your head, his arms around your shoulders tightening, making you squirm and laugh. Above you the maknaes squealed a chorus of “cute!”, cooing loudly.

“I missed you more!” You countered, grinning into his chest, before attempting to get up only to be pulled in tighter after Namjoon’s whine. “Babe, we have the whole weekend!”

“Hey! We missed her too! I want a hug!” Jimin mock yelled at Namjoon, who was now sitting up with you on his lap, still not letting you go.

“No. Get your own Y/N.” He pouts, placing a kiss to your shoulder as you giggle. You hadn’t seen this cute clingy side before and you were sure you had heart eyes. Ignoring his whining you managed to wriggle yourself out of his grip and stood up, greeting the boys. You barely talked for five minutes before Namjoon got impatient again and suggested “as their leader” they go rest after the long flight. You all made plans to meet up for dinner and drinks later that night to properly catch up.

You waved bye to the boys as Namjoon pushed them out the door, ignoring their groans. As soon as the door was closed, he grabbed you by the waist, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was hungry, all tongues, teeth, and desperation. Your arms went around his neck, fingers pulling at his hair as his hands moved lower, groping your ass in an attempt to pull you even closer, grinding against you and making you moan into the kiss. Soon Namjoon was pinning you against the wall, his hands roaming all over your body as yours do on his.

“Missed my pretty girl,” Namjoon says after a few minutes, beaming and panting, his forehead against yours, his hand caressing your sides. Hearing your favorite nickname makes you melt. Even though his heart is beating a mile a minute, heat encasing his body, he hasn’t felt this relaxed in months. Just being in your presence puts him at ease.

“I really missed you.” You reach up to kiss him again, slower this time allowing yourself to relish him after being deprived for so long. He returns the kiss just as tenderly, making your heart melt in your chest as he cups your face, thumbs running over your cheeks. Even though things had started heated, this is what you truly missed, just being in each other's presence.

When you break the kiss, he lifts you up bridal style as you squeal, your arms automatically going around his neck. He grins at you, making you feel the same butterflies you had when you first met him as you poke his dimples, and he carries you to the bed, gently placing you among the pillows before kissing you again.

He was on top of you as you kissed, and you had almost forgotten what it felt to have him there with you as your tongues wrestled, his weight cushioning you to the mattress. Your hands reached the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards till he sat on his knees to remove it, looking at you with his signature smirk as you ran your hands up his body, feeling the contours of his muscles, enjoying the way his chest flexed under them. That is until his smirk turned into one of the biggest yawns you had ever witnessed.

“Am I boring you, Joonie?” You saw his face flush as he looked at you sheepishly before leaning back over you and kissing your lips before moving on to your jaw.

“I read somewhere that yawns are just your brain's way of getting more oxygen” He whispered while gently kissing your neck, making you moan, as his hands moved under your shirt, roaming over your chest. “And all my blood’s somewhere else now so it makes sense” He kissed your ear, making you giggle.

“Wow your dirty talk sure has gotten scientific.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter as you processed what he had just said, your moans turning into cackles. He nipped at your ear as he leaned up to look at you, a goofy grin on his face.

“I’m out of practice!” He shrugged and pretended to glare at you but it only lasted a few seconds before he started laughing again because this time it was you who was yawning. Somehow the earlier sexual tension fades into comfort as you both get caught into a yawn loop.

“Maybe we should just nap first” you suggest pulling him back to you as you peck his lips.

“I do feel like I do better when I’m well-rested.” He lays on his side pulling you into him, one arm under your head and one around your waist. You hum in approval as you cozy up into him. You kiss as you slowly doze off, the adrenaline of your reunion wearing off into a soft glow of contentment.

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

“Y/N! You have to call me oppa. We’re close enough! Stop calling me Mr. Seokjin!” You rolled your eyes as Jin yelled from the couch across from you. You had hung out with him quite a few times and every time he got drunk he insisted on making you call him by the term of endearment. You didn’t mind the term, in fact you called all your older male friends by it since moving to Korea, but riling up Jin till he started rapping was too funny an opportunity to pass up. 

“I can just call you Jin instead if you hate Mr Seokjin?” you smirked as the room around you burst into giggles. You were sitting on the couch in Hoseok’s room, leaning into Namjoon, his arm around your shoulders as he sipped his beer, shaking his head at your antics. After you and Namjoon had become official, you had made it a goal of yours to get to know most of his friends, as he had with yours. Before being separated, you would go out for dinners with your combined friends, and hearing them say they missed you warmed your heart. 

The first time you had had drinks together you had introduced them to King’s cup, one of your favorite drinking games from university, and their penchant for petty competitiveness and gross punishments made the game and you a regular occurrence whenever a few of you had free time together. In fact, Jungkook was so into it that he brought a deck of cards on tour to carry on the tradition, even though you had shown him multiple apps that could do the same. The same deck of cards was the one sprawled around the cup filled with Taehyung’s strawberry daiquiri, Siwon’s IPA, and Yoongi’s whiskey on the coffee table. No one was looking forward to pulling the next king card. 

The room was a bit crowded, filled with people. Although dinner was just you and the boys catching up, everyone had decided to invite the boys’ stylists and managers, as well as Siwon, for drinks. Hoseok had lost the game of rock, paper, scissors so he was made the begrudging host. 

“I’m older than you. You can’t call me just Jin!” he pouted, red cheeks puffed and arms crossed across his chest.

“Yeah by five months!” This is how this argument always went. It was pretty much scripted at this point, as evident by Taehyung who was gleefully mouthing the words before they even came out of your mouths. He’ll argue that Yoongi still called him hyung, you’d retort that’s because Jin forced him and that he was dumb for following through, Yoongi would then interrupt saying that he was still one month older than you and you’d rile up Jin more by calling Yoongi oppa the rest of the night while he would complain about you disrespecting Korean culture and you’d annoy him by telling him that he was disrespecting Canadian culture by not letting you use just his first name. You’d finally relent after seeing him stew only to pick up the same argument the next time you all drank together.

“Stop arguing and pick a card!” Hoseok whined, his sweet demeanor slowly phasing into his zombie persona with each sip of his drink. You loved hanging out with him but the man could not handle his alcohol. Namjoon kind of felt bad that Hobi was the host. He would normally offer him his bed once he inevitably passed out but Namjoon had other plans for his bed once this party was over.

Jin obliged as he picked up a card, careful not to break the circle lest he was forced to down his concoction of mini bar liquor and fruit punch. He picks up a jack, requiring him to start a game of Never Have I Ever.

“Alright, never have I ever disrespected Kim Seokjin.” He said smugly, looking straight at you egging you on to drink. You oblige by raising your glass to him before sipping your drink. To Jin’s annoyance, almost everyone else did that same thing, causing him to grumble.

“Okay that was a boring waste of a question,” Jimin states, rolling his eyes, already drunk sitting on the couch’s arm next to Namjoon. “Let’s make the couples here uncomfortable. Never have I ever had sex in public.”

Surprisingly, Namjoon, you and a stylist are the only ones that drink, making Jimin scream a loud “Kinky!” and prompting Sejin to start his lecture on being careful in the public eye since you were pretty known now and the press would have a field day. Before he can get into the full swing of his chiding, you decide to save you and Namjoon by protesting that you didn’t even hold his hand in public, let alone do anything else, and suddenly the whole atmosphere in the room changed. All eyes went from Namjoon to the stylist, with him glaring at Jimin and her awkwardly downing her drink before leaving. Confused and drunk, you don’t hesitate to ask what’s wrong in the silence that ensues, till it finally dawns on you. That’s the ex he worked with. Oh.

Namjoon could see the gears turning in your head as you put two and two together. He was going to kill Jimin and then himself. Why didn’t he think before taking a sip? He wanted tonight to end with you in his arms, not with you mad at him over something that happened two years ago. However, before he could think of how to make it up to you - maybe he could get you flowers or that whiskey you really like - you laugh, breaking the tension in the room.

“It’s okay guys, everyone has exes!” Still giggling you sip your drink while Jimin apologizes, waving him off. “Why would I get mad at this?”

That caused the room to return back to normal, people resuming the game and enjoying their drinks, but Namjoon was still confused. He knew you were a pretty rational person, but he had just told the whole room of your friends that he fucked his ex in public when you confirmed that he wouldn’t even hold your hand. Surely, he wasn’t wrong to assume that you would be at least a little peeved, but here you were laughing along at Jungkook’s stupid jokes without batting an eyelid. Before he could dwell too long on it, it was your turn to pull a card - pulling a king and effectively ending the game.

“Ewwww. I hate this. Ugh. Is this punishment for introducing you all to this game?” You scrunch your nose sniffing the liquid in the cup as the whole group chants “chug!”. Before you can put it to your lips, Namjoon grabs the cup from you.

“Allow me.” He says as he chugs the drink, almost in one shot, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and barely concealing the shiver that runs through him at the disgusting taste. Half the crowd boos as the other half coos at the chivalrous gesture. You can’t help smiling sweetly at him as he grimaces, and putting your arms around his waist pulling him in an embrace, exclaiming an overly exaggerated “My hero!”.

“Anything for my girl!” He says as he returns your hug and cups your face. “But you gotta suffer the taste with me!”

You’re not one for public displays of affection but you let him pull you into a sloppy kiss, almost forgetting your surroundings as he deepens it, his hand gripping your waist, his tongue tasting mostly of fake strawberry flavoring. Before you can get too carried away, you are interrupted by Yoongi, poking you both and wedging himself between you when you separate.

“Stop being gross! Some of us are single!” He says, making himself comfortable with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Awww hyung! They are so cute! Let them be gross!” A drunk Taehyung exclaims, clapping gleefully from the floor where he’s laying in Jungkook’s lap.

“Yeah! Rapmon hyung and Y/N noona are OTP!” Jungkook says as he sips his wine, almost dribbling it down his chin.

“Nobody says OTP anymore, kid.” Yoongi drawls but refuses to move from his position. “Plus I’m the one responsible for this okay? Your OTP would be nothing without me.” He looks smug as he finishes his sentence, sipping his drink and shrugging his shoulders. Namjoon and you exchange a smirk at his remark and proceed to hug your grumpy friend tightly from both sides much to his over the top protests. Namjoon was truly grateful Yoongi had given him the courage to speak to you that night. He can’t even begin to explain the impact you have made on his life. As he looked at you tipsy and giggling, now arguing with Yoongi over which Kanye album was the best, he felt his heart blossom. You were beautiful and he was in love with you. He was sure you weren’t there yet but he promised himself that before this trip was over he was going to tell you without chickening out at the last moment like the last four times. 

The party comes to an end soon after. Hoseok almost passes out after his third nursed drink and Sejin has the right mind to kick everyone out while Namjoon and Jimin help Hoseok to his bed, your heart warming as your equally drunk boyfriend forces him to brush his teeth and get into bed. Once Hoseok is firmly tucked in, Namjoon turns to you and squats.

“Get on!” He smiles looking at your direction.

“Joon we’re like two doors down. Get up!” You giggle tipsily at his offer to piggyback you.

“I wanna carry you!” He pouts against your protests, finally giving up on the piggyback after asking three times and instead draping you over his shoulder as you squeal. 

“You’re gonna hurt your shoulder!” You scream but your protests go unheard, even as you take the opportunity to smack his butt from your position, a smack that he returns with a warning to behave, but you’re feeling drunk and cheeky as you continue to smack him, even going so far to rap to the beat that you’re making as he unlocks the door to your room.

He tosses you on the bed, pinning your arms above your head before you can wrap them around him and smirks at you, his eyes full of mischief.

“See, I was going to apologize for my ex but you had to go and be a brat.” He kisses you breathless as he takes both your hands in one of his while the other moves under your shirt, raising goosebumps where it caresses your stomach.

“Apologize for what?” You pant as he breaks the kiss, and he can see the confusion on your face.

“You’re not mad?” Now it’s his turn to be confused. He was sure you were mad. He would’ve been mad. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still thinking about it since the awkward incident.

“That you had sex with your ex-girlfriend while you were dating her?” You do a dramatic gasp as you giggle at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yeah… and told our friends about it.” He looks at you sheepishly, his earlier dominant persona fading into your soft boyfriend. His hand loosens its grip on yours as he searches your eyes for any signs of hurt, his eyebrows scrunched.

“Joon you fuck too good to have been a virgin when we met.” You lift one hand to poke at the crease between his brows as you laugh and he holds your wrist, still gauging your expression.

“You’re not mad? Or… jealous?”

“Pfft. I know I fucking rock your world better than she ever did.” You try your best to do a hair flip from where you lay under him, failing miserably and making him laugh, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

“That you do, baby. That you do.” He pecks your shoulder as he moves to your neck, kissing up to your jaw before crashing his lips onto yours. As your hands go to his hair, he brings them back over your head, breaking your kiss but not before pulling your lower lip with his teeth, coaxing a moan from you. “But you’re still getting spanked for being a brat.”

You feel his deep voice reverberate through to your core as you look at the lust in his eyes and feel yourself getting wetter. He kisses you again, his arm hooking under your waist as he sits up pulling you with him, making you gasp at the sudden movement, your arms going around his neck. Your heart’s beating a mile a minute as you make out in his lap, grinding slowly. Even after months of being together you still can’t get used to how easily his switch to this persona turns you to putty. You whimper as his hands find your ass, his fingers groping the muscle hard enough to bruise.

“Get naked.” If you were wet before, you’re dripping now as he moves you off his lap, sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs spread and leaning on his elbows. You decide to make a show of it, jumping off the bed and slowly peeling off the layers. You smile over your shoulder as you rid yourself of your bra, watching him smile, eyes hooded, from where he watches relaxed. Your hands find the waistband of your jeans, slowly unbuttoning them and shimmying out of them, swaying your hips as you do. You’re sure you would find this strip tease embarrassing if it weren’t for how his hungry eyes drink in every expanse of new skin exposed. You bend down to give him a view of your ass as you pull your panties off, a thread of your slick following them as they reach the floor, making him groan loudly. “Fuck. I love your ass.”

You drape yourself on his lap, the material of his jeans on your bare skin making you shiver in excitement as he gently caresses your behind. “Since you love rapping so much, how about you rap that song from earlier, hmm?” he says as he lands a loud smack without warning making you jump at the contact. The sharp pain quickly ebbs into pleasure as he soothes the heated skin under his big palm. “What’s your safeword?”

“Rap monster.” That is not your safeword, but your drunk self thinks it’s the funniest joke as you giggle looking up at him to see his face crack into the smallest of smiles before reverting back to a stern look as he glares at you.

“Seems like someone doesn’t want to cum tonight.” He smacks you again, harder this time making you gasp before you’re apologizing at his threat. Namjoon watches your skin bloom red as he tries to maintain his composure. Trust you to make jokes even when he’s spanking you, and trust him for finding it funny.

“Sunflower! It’s sunflower!” you yell as his hand lands yet again on your ass.

“Good girl. Let’s hear that rap then.” You’re not even sure what song you’re mumbling as his hand rains on your behind, each spank making you wetter till you’re dripping down your thighs and whimpering in his hold.

“Fuck so wet for me.” He hisses as his fingers trace your swollen folds making you jump and mewl as he lightly caresses your throbbing clit. He leans down to kiss your red cheeks as he guides you off his lap and on to the bed and lies on top of you, smiling brightly as he cups your face to kiss you, slow and deep. “You did so well, baby. You’re really into ASAP nowadays aren’t you?”

“You really need some variation in the playlists you send me.” You quip, chuckling as you gently guide his face back to yours, kissing him again, his tongue intertwining with yours. As he leans on one elbow, his other hand makes its way down your body, stopping briefly to tweak each nipple and making you moan before he reaches the apex of your thighs. His fingers dip in you slightly gathering your arousal before starting to circle your clit as he starts kissing your neck, suckling the spot he knows makes you go crazy. It’s like your whole body’s on fire as he finds a rhythm, driving you quickly towards the edge, your mind turning blank as eyes squeeze shut and your lips moan his name. You’re so close and he can feel it by how your nails dig into his shoulders, making him hiss, but before you can cum he moves his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to clean them as he watches you glare at him with a whine.

“You really think I’ll forget your little joke earlier?” He whispers in your ear, his voice deeper than usual, as he nips on it before sitting up between your legs and unceremoniously stripping himself of his shirt and jeans. The sight of the bulge in his boxers makes your walls clench around nothing as you stare at him open-mouthed. Enjoying your reaction, he places one of your legs on his shoulders, the back of your knee fitting perfectly next to his neck as he moves back towards you, his clothed length pressing against your core as he kisses you again roughly, making you whimper as his hands dig into your sides. Your leg burns as he licks and kisses down your jaw towards your chest, his lips taking a nipple and rolling it around with his tongue. You’re sure he can feel your wetness seep through his boxers as he grinds into you agonizingly slow. He nips at your chest and you moan as your back arches off the bed into him.

He continues his slow kisses down your body turning you into a writhing mess under him. You think you’re going to lose your mind by the time he gets past your hip bone and places a chaste kiss on the top of your mound before moving on to your thigh, nibbling at the sensitive skin and paying no attention to your dripping core making a mess of the sheets.

“Joon please…” you beg, rolling your hips to entice him as he pays you no mind, placing an arm over your hips to halt your motion and continues to mark your other thigh. When he’s fully satisfied by his work, he places his forearms under your thighs and pulls to close to his face, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted; your earlier orgasm picking back up as your back arches off the bed, the moan emitting from you barely sounding like yourself. You clasp a hand over your mouth in shock as he continues licking you, his tongue expertly flicking at your clit before he adds two fingers inside you, the digits slipping in easily, making your walls clench around them. He hooks his fingers and you try to grind against him to no success as his arm pushes your hips into the bed. He relishes your moans as your hand moves from your mouth to grasp at the sheets, the sensation too overwhelming as your eyes close shut. 

“Are you close baby? You’re not allowed to cum till I tell you.” He feels your walls tighten around his fingers as he thrusts faster and a chant of please rolls off your tongue, your hand twisting in your hair. It’s like every cell in your body is alight from your toes to your scalp, tingling as you get closer, your eyes welling up with pleasure. But once again before you can come undone, his fingers slow down to a snail’s pace, his mouth moving away. The frustration builds in you as a few tears escape and your fists punch the mattress.

He chuckles lightly as he sees you pout under him as, your hair a mess, your lips swollen and red from where you’ve bitten them. God, even glaring at him like you’re gonna kill him, you look adorable. Deciding he’s taught you a lesson, he pulls his dick out of his boxers, his tip swollen and weeping with precum, and lines it towards your entrance, teasing you further and gathering your juices.

Your eyes roll back with pleasure as he replaces his fingers with his cock, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. The stretch combined with his teasing makes your head hazy and you can hear him groan above you as he puts both your legs in the air together, holding them against his chest with one arm as he thrusts into you slow and hard. You feel so much tighter in this position and he has to bite his lip to ensure he doesn’t cum immediately. You can feel every vein and ridge as he moves slowly and deliberately and even at this pace you are getting close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Joonie… please can I cum? Please I’m so close!” You don’t care that you’re yelling, you’re desperate for release, the earlier tension returning tenfold. You vow to break up with him if he denies you one more time. Fortunately for your relationship, he increases his pace, making you see stars.

“Hold it just a little bit longer baby.” His pace doesn’t falter and you’re writhing against him, a babble of incoherent pleas escaping your lips as your hands try to grab on to his forearm. Your legs are shaking and he can feel your walls tighten harder around him. He increases his speed as your pleas get louder.

“Okay baby. Cum for me.” At his command, your vision goes black and it’s like your body is one big nerve ending, pleasure zipping through you making you cry out his name as you spasm in his hold. He fucks you through your orgasm, pace not faltering, till you go limp, your breath coming out in loud pants as he praises you. “That’s my girl. Good job, baby.”

Without changing his speed, he releases your legs, pushing them to your chest as he leans down and kisses you. The new angle hitting your g-spot as you whine in his mouth at the oversensitivity, but instead of slowing down, he picks up his pace yet again, his fingers coming to trace your sensitive clit, making your head buzz with the overwhelming sensation.

“I can’t… Joon,” you whine as he fucks you hard, panting above you and you can tell he’s close.

“Do you want to use your safeword?” He looks at you with concern, slowing down and closely reading your expression. As you tell him no his hips snap into you again, his fingers working faster on your clit as the pain morphs to pleasure. He’s chasing his release, his movements becoming sloppy.

“Cum again baby. I know you can do it. Come on, that’s it” And soon you’re cumming again, screaming as tears fall down your face and your walls clench around him coaxing him to orgasm. He grunts loudly, moaning your name multiple times, as he cums, painting your walls with his seed. His breath is heavy as he pulls out and watches his cum dribble out of you, using two fingers to push it back in before he collapses on the bed next to you.

He brings his fingers up to your lips and you happily suck on them before he pulls them out and kisses you gently, his hand smoothing your hair. He then puts his arm under your head as he cuddles you into his chest, his other arm pulling your waist into him and his legs over yours. You’ve never felt safer or more comfortable than you do tangled up in him.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he gently caresses your cheek, wiping your runny mascara with his thumb, kissing you once again.

“Holy fuck. That was-” Your voice is hoarse from your screaming and you have to clear your throat a couple of times before you can speak clearly. “That was amazing.”

“Phew! The suspense was killing me!” He laughs as you playfully swat at his chest before pulling his lips on yours again. “Shower?”

“Yes. But this time you really have to carry me.” You raise your hands grabbing at the air as he stands up.

“I got you, pretty girl.” He grins widely, his eyes scrunched together, as he kisses your forehead, picking you off the bed and carrying you to the bathroom. 

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Namjoon looked at you from across the room as you chatted with a group of women with a cup of coffee, your breakfast untouched, totally distracted from the guy who was telling him about some app he had made for producers to make it easier to find samples. He rarely got to see you in your professional element. In fact, the only time he had seen you was during the gala and he felt an unparalleled surge of pride. The way you carried yourself was so different than when you were with him. It wasn’t that you weren’t relaxed, it was just effortless - the way you seemed to answer each question with confident authority, the way you gave advice to people who were probably much older than you, and especially the way you tried to engage the quieter people of the group in conversations. It reminded him of why you had caught his eye the first time he met you, and why he was so unbelievably whipped for you. Your duality of being goofy and sexy when you were alone to being this serious vat of knowledge and experience when networking made him weak in the knees.

“So do you think you would use it?” The founder of the sampling app, Lee Seungmin, asked Namjoon. Seungmin was one of the other people invited from Korea, and seemed pretty adamant on selling his product to Namjoon. It took all of his energy to rip his gaze away from you.

“I’m sorry I missed that. What did you ask?” Namjoon asked politely, looking at the shorter, much chubbier man dressed in slacks and a shirt with his company logo on it.

“Wouldn’t blame you. She’s really hot, eh?” Seungmin jokes, making Namjoon choke on his coffee. Although he knows that this guy isn’t privy to your relationship, it makes him a little annoyed at his comment. Who was he to dare objectify you?

“Yes, but I don’t think they invite people here for their looks.” He couldn’t help how curt his tone was effectively shutting him up and making him move away to talk to someone else at the table. Namjoon would feel bad if he didn’t overhear him start the conversation about you with the next guy. Rolling his eyes, he went back to his lunch, talking to Hoseok and Yoongi instead, wishing this brunch went by faster than it did. He was getting sick of people trying to suck up to him or sell him something. Someone even had the audacity to ask him to pose with their product so they could put it on their website. He politely declined, but the thinly veiled attempts at using him and his members for clout were starting to get on his nerves. He could feel himself getting stressed, much like he did when he had to pretend to be perfect for the media, and falling back into the headspace of last month - cloudy, annoyed, and frustrated.

He was relieved when you both arrived back at the room. You held his arm for support as you leaned down to take off your heels, sighing in relief as your feet met the flat ground.

“God, I hate heels!” You exclaimed as you walked over, dropping your blazer on the ground and plopped on the couch, stretching your feet. Namjoon picked your jacket off the floor, draping it on one of the chairs as he situated himself on the other end of the sofa, putting your legs on his lap.

“Since when do you wear heels?” He asks, as he gently runs his hands over your legs, covered with a pair of navy pants.

“Too often nowadays.” You sigh with your eyes closed, and he can’t help frowning at how tired you looked, even though it’s barely past 2 pm.

“You okay, babe? Want a foot massage?” He doesn’t wait for your answer as he starts massaging your feet, smiling as you relax further into the couch.

“Shit. That feels good!” You moan as you relax. “You know they don’t give Grammys for best boyfriends, right?”

“I’m offended you think I’m doing this for something as dumb as a Grammy.” He chuckles, but he knows you well enough to know that you’re avoiding the topic. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed about work. Don’t worry about it.” At that you pull your legs from under his hands, walking over to grab your laptop before sitting on the couch again to start working, eyebrows furrowed as soon as you open the your laptop. Namjoon knows he shouldn’t take your dismissal to heart, but he can’t help be taken aback by your lack of openness. You always told him what was on your mind and he felt his heart ache that you didn’t want to share what was wrong. He couldn’t fully blame you. He hadn’t told you about his stresses this past month either, but unlike him, you hadn’t even noticed he was stressed. It made him a little wary, bringing his thoughts back to last night and your reaction, or lack thereof, to meeting his ex. As much as it hurt him, maybe he was right after all. You didn’t love him yet. He sighed as he got up to grab his book, hoping that he could change that before leaving you tomorrow night.

After a few hours of work, you started to feel bad for ignoring Namjoon. He had been nothing but doting this whole trip and you hated yourself for having to finish this proposal this weekend. Feeling your brain turn to mush anyways, you stretched as you walked over to your suitcase, watching your boyfriend who seemed to be engrossed in his book. You felt guilty for avoiding his questions earlier but you could see how stressed he had been from work - in fact, Jungkook had told you as much over text last week when he shared that Namjoon had collapsed during rehearsals. You knew how empathetic he was, he would do everything in his power to make sure you were feeling good, so how could you burden him with your stresses when he had so many of his own. Sure this last month had been hell and you were barely functioning but if you told him that, you know he would worry about you, and you would rather bottle everything up than have him worry.

Reaching into your suitcase, you took out his favorite packet of ramen, hiding it behind your back as you moved over to stand in front of him.

“I got you a present.” You bent down till you were face to face as he looked up at you with a smile and kissed him gently.

“I think you’ve already given me this present.” He said as he cupped your face and kissed you again, lingering longer.

You laugh as you straighten up and pull the ramen from behind your back, watching his eyes go wide in excitement as he grabs it, his dimples poking his cheeks as he hugs you. You knew he always missed home when on tour even if it was just an Asian tour, and his ramen cravings were the top priority when he arrived back to Korea. You hoped this would cheer him up as you grabbed the packet and walked over to the kettle, starting the water.

“Speaking of presents, I was saving this for tomorrow, but now I’m excited.” He says before grabbing the slim velvet box from his bag and walking over to you, wrapping you in a back hug as you pour the seasoning from the packet into the cup of dry ramen. He puts the box in front you and opens it, making it now your turn to go wide-eyed.

Inside the box is a necklace with the most delicate gold chain holding a pendant shaped like a gold slice of pizza with pepperoni made of small rubies. It would seem tacky if it didn’t look so intricate. No one had given you a gift that was so you, and it made you speechless.

“I know it’s cheesy but I saw it in Tokyo and it reminded me of our first date, but if you don’t like it I can take it back and I’m sure I can return it, I mean they gave me a gift receipt and everything.” Namjoon knew he was rambling but you were eerily quiet and the fact that he couldn’t see your face made him uneasy. 

“It’s perfect,” you whisper as you turn around, your eyes glistening as you wrap your arms around his neck. He was alarmed. You never got emotional, even when you both watched Up together you barely showed any signs of being moved while he was sobbing. 

“It was meant to be for our 100 day anniversary next week but I thought I’d give it early.” He pressed his forehead to yours, drinking in your smile as he held you tighter.

“I’m literally the worst girlfriend. I forgot about that.” You frowned as you looked away before you looked back at him, your eyes wide. “Oh my god! I only got you ramen! What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“Y/N… Relax. I didn’t get you a present for you to get me one. Plus I know you’re nothing without your calendar app. I swear you’d forget to eat without it.” He laughed trying to reassure you as he kissed your frown away. “If anything it’s Siwon’s fault for not programming it in there.”

“I don’t deserve you.” You sigh as you hug him tightly, making Namjoon’s heart swoon as you ask him to put the necklace on you. He does so, kissing the nape of your neck where he clasps it and telling you that you deserve the world. You wanted to tell him you loved him before you chickened out again but before the words could make it out of your lips his were against them.

Later that night, he feels even happier as he sees you wear it to the gala. Even though he knows he can’t hold your hand, the fact that you have a symbol of his love for you around your neck makes him giddy.

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“Joon, seriously. I have to get this done.” You giggle as he kisses your neck, moving the strap of your tank to the side as he continues lavishing you in kisses. Namjoon was impatient. He had spent the whole night watching you from afar. He’d be damned if he had to wait any longer to have you in his arms. Work can go to hell.

To say that Namjoon hated the gala would be an understatement. First, you and Yoongi ended up unintentionally matching, and he found himself irrationally jealous at the fact that his stylist didn’t choose the Louis Vitton outfit for him so he could match with you. Second, even though all the attendees were placed on tables according to country, you had decided to sit next to none other than Lee Seungmin, the creep checking you out at brunch, who wasted no opportunity to shamelessly flirt with you, even going so far as to put his hand on your thigh a couple of times. The number of times you politely rejected him for him not to get the hint made Namjoon’s blood boil, so much so that Jin had to poke him to relax his face lest the photographers captured his reaction. And lastly, when he had to watch you dance with some old men as you were too polite to refuse, while they leered at you. Through it all, Namjoon could just watch helplessly as you seemed more uncomfortable. Now that you were both back to your room and in your pajamas, he just wanted to hold you before all the jealousy and insecurity of the night caught up with him. He knew if he kissed your neck enough, you’d soon comply.

“Do it later. We only have till tomorrow. Let’s watch a movie together?” He gives you another kiss that makes your breath hitch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Before you can get too carried away, you move his head away from you, sighing and gathering all your self-control. If you didn’t finish this proposal today you’d be in big trouble - like losing a multimillion-dollar contract big trouble. As much as you wanted to just forget work existed, you had to take a two-hour reality check on this trip.

“I can’t do that. Please understand.” You looked at him softly, but Namjoon couldn’t help getting annoyed. Didn’t you yearn for him like he did at that gala? Were you happy to be hit on by those creeps?

“Are you seriously being like this right now?” He scoffed, pulling away from you, eyebrows knitted together. Namjoon couldn’t understand why you had to work right now. You had been apart for so long, didn’t you want to spend as much time with him as he wanted to with you?

“Like what? I told you I need to have this done by tomorrow.” He could hear the familiar edge in your voice. You were starting to get annoyed.

“Do you know how much groveling I had to do to get this weekend together and you’re going to waste it on stupid work?” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. You didn’t know he “groveled”, as far as you were aware this was part of his schedule. Why was he being so difficult all of a sudden? It’s not like you had a choice. Does he think you would seriously spend time away from him if you didn’t have to?

“Are you seriously mad at me for taking two hours, two hours, out of three days to finish some work?”

“Yes because these three days are all we get together for the next month.” Namjoon knew he was being stupid, two hours were not a big deal, but at the moment he couldn’t help but feel abandoned like somehow the scales in the relationship had tipped where the balance of affection was off. He cared so much for you, why couldn’t you feel the same?

“Oh don’t be dramatic. I will be done soon.” You snapped, your attention turning back to the screen. If Namjoon was going to throw a tantrum there was no reason for you to indulge him.

“Don’t dismiss me like that. You’re the boss, just tell the people to wait. Or delay it.” He walked closer to you, shutting your laptop, standing with his arms crossed. He wanted your full attention, and he was going to demand it. He hated how condescending you were being.

“Are you kidding me? I can’t do that. This is for a client.” You stand up facing him, anger flowing through you, indignation plastered on your features. Even though he was significantly taller than you, your glare could have made anyone feel small.

“Just do it later and apologize.” Namjoon knew he was being stubborn, but the reason for the fight was forgotten, he just wanted you to admit that you were wrong. As childish as it seemed, he wanted to win. 

“What the fuck? I have a whole company that I need to pay, I can’t just skip shit.”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit. Missing one deadline won’t make you miss payroll - you’re not a struggling small company anymore.” That hit a nerve, he could see it in your eyes as they flared with anger. He would feel bad for making you angry if he weren’t so happy to get a reaction.

“The fucking hypocrisy. Sure Namjoon, have RM miss a concert. It’s okay you’re not a struggling small band anymore!” You poked him in the chest as you moved closer. He hadn’t seen this side of you before. You had never been angry with him before. You had never fought like this before. Your anger only seemed to fuel his. He had no control over his schedule, you did. Why couldn’t you understand that fundamental difference?

“That is not the same thing. You are overworking yourself for no reason.” He was talking with his hands, you knew he only acted like that when he was pissed, but you were not going to have any of this petty behavior. For all his bull and bluster about being a feminist, he’s going to pull this shit on you? His job is great and not stressful or busy but when it comes to you he’s going to pull the overworking card? When he literally collapsed during rehearsal last week and hid it from you? You were livid.

“You’re going to talk to me about overworking?” You laughed sarcastically, your eyes burning. “Oh is it not the same thing because it's my job and not yours?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant. Whatever. Fuck this. Enjoy writing your proposal!” Namjoon couldn’t argue anymore. He felt his anger rising to a point where he knew he was going to say something he regretted if he hadn’t already. Using his one remaining rational brain cell, he walked out of the room, not before maliciously slamming the door behind him.

“I will!” you screamed into the empty room, panting with anger as you picked up the water bottle on your desk and threw it across the room, tears in your eyes.

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

Y/N: Have you seen Namjoon? He’s not responding.

Yoongi: Isn’t he with you?

Y/N: No.

Yoongi: What happened?

Y/N: Nothing, we just had an argument and I haven’t seen him. It’s been two hours.

Yoongi: Okay don’t worry. We’ll find him.

Y/N: Thanks Yoongs

Yoongi: Where are you?

Yoongi: Hello?

Yoongi: Namjoon. Answer your phone.

Yoongi: Y/N is really worried about you

Yoongi: Listen Namjoon if you don’t answer in the next five minutes, I’m reporting you missing

Yoongi: Enjoy that press 

Namjoon: Stop calling me. I’m fine.

Yoongi: No. Where the fuck are you?

Namjoon: I’m just on the roof.

Namjoon: Please don’t come here. I just want to be alone.

Yoongi: Are you okay? Y/N told me you guys had a fight

Namjoon: I’ll be fine. Don’t tell her where I am.

Yoongi: Okay. Text me if you need a friend.

Namjoon: Thanks hyung.

Yoongi: He’s on the roof. He said he’s fine, but not to tell you.

Y/N: Thanks friend

Yoongi: You should go find him

Y/N: He doesn’t want me, there he made that clear

Yoongi: I’ve known him and lived with him for a decade, trust me. He needs you.

Y/N: Okay, but if we break up it’s on you.

Yoongi: Just go find him Y/N.

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

Namjoon rubbed his face as he sat on the rooftop of the hotel, his back against the railing. Replying to Yoongi he tossed his phone aside. He’d been sitting here for the past couple of hours his anger dissipating into guilt far too quick. Dried tears streaked his face as he tried to gather the courage to go back to the room. 

He was scared. The image of your angry face as he dismissed your work popping in his head. He didn’t know why he did that. He respected what you did, but he felt like a hypocrite. All his exes he dismissed when they asked him to take care of himself and not overwork. All the times they came to his studio to force him to leave, only to have the same look of anger that you gave him. He laughed bitterly as he pulled his legs to his chest.

At the edge of the guilt, he could feel it again, the same feeling he’d had since the comeback started, a sort of brain slush. Like a haze shackling him in place. He had felt it many times before but it was never this strong, this force of unproductivity, making him want to forget everything and hide. The stress of this comeback wasn’t any different than other ones. He always made it a priority to write new music in between promotions and shows but his creative block from four months ago was back and nastier. He could feel it gnaw at his neurons, forcing him to stay awake for hours after he should be in bed staring at a blank Ableton file. Usually, he could trick his mind out of this fog by working harder, but lately, it was like it was getting thicker seeping into every aspect of his life, painting his vision sepia, making every movement robotic. 

He remembers when encouraging messages from ARMY would make him happy, excited to make more music for them but nowadays it just made him feel guilty. He wasn’t doing enough for them, he couldn’t even string together a series of 808s without it sounding like a gimmick or worse like plagiarism. Last week he had fucked up so bad that his body shook from the memory. He had stayed up all night in some sick form of self-harm, scrolling through hate comments on Twitter then Reddit. He was never sadder to know multiple languages because even if the characters were different the messages were the same. He was a shitty musician, too overhyped by fans, his awards were bought by his company, his dances sucked, he tried too hard, and of course that he was too ugly to be an idol. His rational side would argue that these messages were meant to hurt him, his friends and you would comfort him by telling him they were lies, but he never told anyone about this habit, and his rational side often lost out. If anyone asked why he did this he would say to fuel another song, but he knew the real reason - he just couldn’t stop. So he stayed up all night till his eyes were dry and scratchy from staring at the screen, and had three espresso shots before the show even though he hated espresso, his body eventually giving out during rehearsals. He got quite a few lectures about that. A leader’s job is to set a good example. You have been doing this for so long, be a professional play in your limits. But there were no limits, not when it literally took a mantra of just “power through it” to get out of bed and shower.

He had been hoping this weekend would solve everything - that seeing you would solve everything. As he sat on the roof, the first few drops of rain falling on him, he curled in further into himself. It wasn’t your responsibility to make him happy, clear the fog, but you had done it the first day. His mind felt clear but it was gone too soon. He didn’t know when it happened but he could see it after a while that you didn’t feel the same way he did. You didn’t crave to be next to him like he did, speaking affirmations in his ear as he did in yours. Hell, even when you saw his ex for the first time, you barely reacted. Maybe it was the way you were so adamant that he not leave any marks because you might not be able to cover them this weekend, or the way you made sure to not sit next to him at the gala even when you were seated on the same table by some stroke of luck. You didn’t love him like he did, and he would be happy with scraps, but he couldn’t afford to miss you more than he did. He laughed again, cackling maniacally, as he realized where he was: a rooftop in the middle of a downpour, just because you once said rooftops had magical healing powers. There was nothing healing about being alone looking at lights shining in offices no one was in - it was lonely.

He was so desperate to feel anything other than this fog that even anger was a better option. Maybe he wanted you to put him out of his misery, leave him as he was sure you would eventually before he burdened you with more of his fucked up life before he relied on you further just to have his legs cut out from under him. He sighed, shivering even though the rain was warm, resting his head on his knees. Could he survive if you left him tonight, justly so?

“Joon…?” You call out as you reach the rooftop, searching for him through the rain.

“I told hyung not to tell you. I wanna be alone” You barely hear him mumble from the corner and you make your way over to the dark figure. He’s hunched in on himself, his arms around his knees, his face in his hands and it breaks your heart. Your boyfriend is a tall, broad man who can easily throw you across the room if he wants to, but at this moment, he looks small, almost tiny. It takes everything in you to not just go and wrap him in your arms. 

“Namjoon, what are you doing?” You squat in front of him, resting your hands on his arms. You wouldn’t usually push him like this when he seems distraught, you knew he didn’t respond too well to direct conflict but you needed him to let you in, your inherent need to fix going into hyperdrive. When he refuses to look at you, you cup his face and pull it up firmly to look into his eyes. He looks like he’s been crying and it makes your eyes well up. “Look at me. Why are you driving me away?”

With nowhere to run, all he can see is your face, your eyes puffy, red-rimmed and glassy, your nose a dusty pink. He made you cry. He made the person he was supposed to take care of cry because he got pissy over something she couldn’t control, something he was guilty of as well. All his guilt bit at his chest again and he hated himself. You didn’t deserve this. You should leave him. Why were you here in the rain trying to comfort him when he was such a useless asshole?

“Fuck... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded hoarse and broken, and he knew all the apologies in the world wouldn’t make him worthy of forgiveness. He wished you’d just leave and let him wallow in the rain by himself - he deserved that. Tears filled his eyes and he hoped the rain would ensure they were invisible.

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay.” You kissed him on the forehead, settling on your knees in front of him. His eyes were wide as he looked at you, his hands on top of yours, gripping your hands a little too tight.

“I… don’t know why I picked a fight.” He averted his gaze, not having the courage to look at you.

“It’s okay.” You move your hands to the back of his neck as he places his on your shoulders, opening his legs wide enough for you to move closer, your forehead against his as you caress the hair on his nape. 

“No, it’s not. Fuck! It’s like when I saw you yesterday I could finally breathe! I’ve felt so numb these few months but when I saw you, it’s like I could finally be happy.” He cups your face. He knows he needs to be honest but he doesn't know where to start.

“Joonie…”

“And then I could feel it escape again. I felt it. My head getting cloudy like I was slowly going underwater, and I don’t know… I just… I can’t ask you to be responsible for my happiness. It’s not fair to you. I can’t. I can’t.” He knows he’s not making any sense but his chest feels tight and he can’t fight his tears anymore as they mix with the raindrops on his cheeks. He can feel himself hyperventilating. He doesn’t know why he can’t tell you this without breaking down. What was wrong with him? Maybe that’s why you didn’t love him. Maybe that’s why you never got jealous because you knew he wasn’t worth it. How could he support you when he could barely stand by himself. He was so fucked up. 

“Joonie. It’s okay. Just breathe, okay? You’re okay.” You cradle his head against your chest, kissing the top of his head.

“I can’t lose you Y/N. I can’t be the jealous idiot that I always am and lose you.” He’s clawing at your sweater, pulling you closer than you are, making your eyes well up at his desperation. Why does he think he’s going to lose you? As far as you knew you had never given him any indication of that. You loved him and you couldn’t imagine a future without him.

“Namjoon. Look at me. It’s going to take more than a stupid fight to drive me away.” You pull his face away from your sweater and hold his gaze, his eyes red and still full of tears. The image breaks your heart but you hope you can convey your honesty to him.

“No, but you shouldn’t be with me. I’m fucked up, you know. You deserve better.” His actions speak otherwise as he holds your upper arms in both his hands tight enough to bruise as if you would disappear if he let go.

“Where is this coming from? Namjoon you’re not fucked up, you’re human. I don’t care how fucked up you think you are. I love you.” You look deep into his eyes, urging him to believe you. You had been trying to tell him you loved him all day but you always chickened out, but not now. You needed him to know that you were here for him. You were dying to know what started this, why he felt this way, but you needed him to realize that you had no plans of leaving.

“You… love me?” His voice was almost inaudible as his bottom lip quivered.

“Of course I love you. I love you - good parts and bad parts. I love 100% of you.” You kissed him gently, wiping at his face with your thumbs.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re you. You make me happy, even when you make me mad you make me happy.” You put your forehead against his again as the rain picked up, pelting the both of you. “Just don’t run away from me, please?”

“I don't deserve you. Fuck. I love you so much it scares me.” He kisses you at that, rough and full of yearning. It’s like the first kiss you shared this weekend and it makes your heart ache. Did he feel this way when he saw you again yesterday? Like he didn’t deserve you? You wished you could go into his head and learn all his worries - this did not seem like only work stress to you.

“Hey. I’m scared too okay? It just means it’s real.”

“How do you do that? How do you sound so sure all the time?” His head is on your shoulder as you caress his hair. It seems as if all the energy has been drained from his body as his grip on you loosens and you feel his weight lean on you.

“Because I believe in us. We’re Rapmon hyung and Y/N noona. We’re OTP, remember?” You lift his face and smile at him as he musters a small one of his own, as you kiss him again. “Let’s get out of the rain, okay baby?”

You both are drenched from the rain when you get back to your room, and you lead Namjoon to the bathroom. He just stands there, eyes glassy as you start a bath and grab a towel, drying the rain on his body. Once the bath is full and bubbly, you undress him and guide him in, discarding your own own clothes before climbing in behind him.

“I always sit behind you when we bathe.” He says, voice barely audible.

“Let me wash your hair, is that okay?” you say tentatively, kissing the back of his neck as he nods.

Suddenly, his head snaps up as he speaks loudly, a slight panic in his voice. “I have to use the special shampoo so the colour doesn’t fade.”

“Yeah. I have it right here.” You smile as he relaxes and you foam the shampoo on his pink hair, massaging his scalp gently. You take your time, washing it out before moving onto the conditioner, letting it sit as you massage his shoulders. You hear him sniff as you work at the knots. As you’re washing the conditioner off his hair, he turns at the waist, bringing one hand to your cheek as he looks at you. You realize he was still crying as your own eyes threaten to fill with tears.

“Thank you, Y/N. I… I know I don’t deserve this. Thank you.”

“Shh… I love you Joonie. You deserve this and more.” You kiss him gently on each cheek and then on the lips. You are not sure how to make him believe this but you hope he can see how much you love him as you wipe his tears. Namjoon’s never been this vulnerable with you, never given up this much control, and if you’re being honest it scares you seeing him this way. In a way, you feel helpless. You’re a fixer and there’s just no immediate way to make him feel better, you just have to make sure he knows you’re here for him. 

After you get dressed, he lays in bed as you do his skincare routine for him, running your fingers over his face gently. Namjoon hasn’t felt this way with someone before, so raw but soothed at the same time. He never shows his negative emotions to anyone. Right now it feels like his emotions are a livewire, but the way you gently tap the serums on to his skin, making sure not to miss a spot, he realizes how wrong he was. All the ways he convinced himself you didn’t love him were wrong. You don’t show love through jealousy or possession or even words. This is how you show love - in the quiet of your room making sure that he doesn’t go to sleep drenched from the rain, or skip his eye cream so his eyes aren't too puffy in the morning or at breakfast when you always cut the crust off his bread because he once mentioned he doesn’t like it. He opens his eyes as you say all done and sees you smiling softly at him, some of his confidence coming back. He smiles at you even though it’s difficult, and pulls you to his chest. As you lay on his bare chest for a while, feeling how tightly his arms wrap around you, an idea pops into your head.

“I want to come with you to LA.” You usually don’t make such impulsive decisions, but you could feel that he was not ready to be separated and you were definitely not ready to leave him, but you didn’t want to make him feel like he didn't have a choice so you add, “Is that okay?”

“What about your work?” He asks softly and you can hear his heart beat faster as he awaits an answer.

“I work from home all the time. It’ll be fine.” You rise up slightly to look at him, your chin resting on his chest, making sure to look him in the eyes. “I want to be with you.”

For the first time that night, you see him smile wide enough that his dimples poke through his cheeks and you’re sure you’ve made the right decision.

“I love you, Y/N. Thank you.” He pulls you further so you are fully lying on top of him and as you tell him you love him again, you feel his breath even out, both of you falling into a much need sleep.

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

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[j0hn-deacons-perm]

I’ve been reading Is This the Real Life: the Untold Story of Queen and some things in this...

-Brian and Roger got into it after a show one time and Roger just went in with hairspray in Bri’s face

-Freddie met with a group of people in tight satin pants and couldn’t sit down so he looked around and tried to not attract attention to himself while undoing them

-Freddie was also so exhausted during their US tour at one point he just completely passed out, face in his breakfast

-Roger chose the shirt Fred wanted to wear for their first Rainbow show so he stormed off during soundcheck and brian begged for him to come back

-Also during their first US tour, Brian got himself a love affair in New Orleans and had to be rushed back to the UK after waking up in New York with full blown hepatitis due to a vaccine he received earlier in the year.. Freddie got herpes apparently? Icons.

-Freddie kept up with visiting Brian in the hospital while they worked on Sheer Heart Attack since homeboy had an operation after he was cleared for his hepatitis bed rest then had an ulcer shortly after.

-Roger didn’t like his hair in the cover photo for Sheer Heart Attack so they added extensions in the final photo. 

-Years after them leaving Trident, John was met with a former employee who recognized him at an airport and just completely shut him down. We love a king who knows his worth.

Edit #1 since I’ve read a bit more...

-Brian would somewhat irritate the person making coffee and tea. “...and then I’d ask Brian what he wanted. Then there’d be this pause and then he’d ask ‘How many teas are you making? How many coffees?...Two?...Three? Is it easier for you to make another coffee or another tea?’ You could spend 10 minutes just doing this. He was trying to make it easier for me, but in the end I’d be like, ‘Brian! Just tell me what you want!’”

-Bri thought Death on Two Legs was too mean and felt bad singing it.

-Freddie shutting down homophobes in the audience by shining the spot light on them and asking them to repeat what they said.

-Freddie didn’t believe the gold disc for a Night at the Opera was the album so he broke it open to play it and it was indeed their album. He was suspicious of EMI after everything at Trident which, I mean, valid.

-Mary out here recognizing her and Fred’s relationship was crumbling, accepted it and hugged him when he came out. We love a good support system.

-When in Australia, they had to go on foot to their venue due to a festival taking place. No cars could pass. But Freddie being extra, he was driven through in a limo while drinking champagne.

Edit #2

-Fred was being driven to the studio and they crashed so he went to a nearby house to use their phone...in a silk kimono with Queen written on the back...almost dressed in full stage attire. They let him in, made him tea and chatted.

-During their show at Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto, Brian’s amp exploded and he ran over to tell Freddie but it was in his mic pretty much so everyone heard him panicing. Fred waved Bri away saying “Oh, just jump around a bit and the silly bastards won’t know the difference!”

-If Fred walked somewhere, a car would follow him with the door open in case he got tired. This boy is so extra I swear to god....

-I ALMOST FORGOT!! They had clocks as promo items for News of the World and they sounded kind of fancy so I looked it up and.....

Bitch...I low-key want one.

Edit #3

-That feeling when Roger could not confirm but didn’t doubt there being dwarves with cocaine at the Jazz debut party.

-In Munich recording the Game, the boys would split off to do their own thing after recording for the day. Freddie would explore the gay club scene while the others got drinks, dinner and a club then would meet back up with Freddie at the hotel. Taylor’s suite (not sure if it’s Roger or Crystal tbh) was the HH....the hetero hangout and Freddie’s was the PPP...the Presidential Pouff Parlour.

-John was nicknamed Ostrich because ‘He’s was like a bird who stays quiet until it finally lays a perfect egg.’ Kinda wish there was more about John in this book tbh

-the author really out here typing Deakey....unbelievable. Either Deacy or Deaky, binch. Come on.

-According to Crystal, Roger had his drum case be a close up of his face in case he had amnesia and needed to know what he looked like but we all know the truth, Rog 👀

-During a late night drinking sesh, one of the crew put on the Flash Gordon soundtrack and John, shit faced, asked who it was.

Edit #4

-Apprently Cool Cat was the first song written for/on Hot Space and Brian wasn’t a huge fan of it or Back Chat because it wasn’t heavy enough. Adding onto that, Staying Power and Body Language were thought to be too gay and Bri wanted things to be for everyone of different persuasions. Brian....let the gays have something.

-With the Works and Hot Space being my top two Queen albums...I was disappointed how much was just blown over with the recording process tbh.

-Paul Prenter was a massive cunt but everyone knows that.

-John was busted after a Phil Collins concert because he was drunk driving. He was driving his new Porsche but then got his license suspended for a year. Brian was a guest DJ for a radio show where he played Stevie Wonder’s Don’t Drive Drunk and dedicated the song to “John, whom some of you may know has had a little problem with his car recently.’

-Freddie’s pick up line for Jim was ‘how big is your dick’....I mean, in a way, it worked??? Iconic.

-Roger owned up to having their sound guy set false sound limits for the groups before them during Live Aid so when Queen went on, they were the loudest.

Edit #5, the last one since I finished the book

-Paul Prenter should have had someone kick him in the shins tbh fuck that guy

-Brian met Anita through a Eastenders event and he was gushing about how much he loved the show since Chrissie had him watch it then invited her to Wembley which she turned him down.

-Also fast forward to the later half of the 90′s, Anita helped Brian get into therapy for his depression and other emotional matters. We love a supportive queen.

-When the book finally talks more about John and it’s him saying the We Will Rock You musical sucked and he having an affair with a 25 year old erotic dancer like come on my dude....why couldn’t I be her??? But for real, I looked into it and found an article and wowza. When sd!Deaky be an actual thing????

-The press’ harassment of Freddie and his inner circle during his last years is absolutely horrendous to read about tbh. I think it was Roger (feel free to correct me on that if I’m wrong) who crashed his car because the camera flashes temporarily blinded him when he was trying to visit Freddie.

-Also Freddie was able to see the Bohemian Rhapsody clip from Wanye’s World since Mike Myers sent him a tape. Bri and Fred watched it and according to Brian, Freddie loved it and sent his seal of approval.

There’s the things I found interesting reading this biography. If you’ve read it or have any other fun facts, add them on my dudes!

[masonscig]

holiday

pairing | mason x aimee lin

word count | 2.5k

warnings | cursing, innuendos [it’s mason and aimee u know what to expect]

author’s note | so our friend group decided to do a little secret santa type gift exchange and i got the lovely @masonsfangs – i couldn’t NOT write maimee !!! not gonna get super sappy on main but i’m so grateful for your friendship, becky and i love you so so so much!

•─────────────────•

Out of all the fucking times he has to run out of cigarettes, it’s the moment he needs them the most.

His hands were quivering ever so slightly in his pockets, but no one would be able to tell unless they were looking for it. And even then, he was hidden by the shade of the door frame – not dark enough, but it’d do.

Why the fuck did he agree to a holiday party? In what world was he the type to go to parties, much less celebrate anything?

The laughter of the surrounding agents, mingling in clusters around the room, pounded at his eardrums like a mallet to its surface. The music flooding through the speakers was even worse, grating at him so intensely that he could feel the individual droplets of sweat start to bead across his palms.

A century’s worth of annual holiday festivities at the agency, and he chooses to attend when there’s ample sound technology to add to the already irritating sound of each voice – he could normally block them out if he needed to, but in a crowd this size? He was lucky if he could manage a couple of seconds where he could hear himself think.

He wasn’t looking for her, no matter how many times Farah tried pestering him about it.

“You got here pretty early, Mason,” Farah started, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “It’s almost like you’re… waiting for somebody –”

“I’m not,” he snapped – two words were an effort to say.

He was straining himself trying to adjust to his surroundings, but it was like no matter how hard he focused, the noise was still deafening, still restricting.

“Well, tough luck. You know she’s fashionably late to everything,” she said. “Said so herself.”

Farah waggled her arm in front of Mason’s eyes, flashing the bright screen of her phone, the string of charms nearly striking his face.

“Yeah, I get it.” He’d been at the party for nearly a fucking hour and she hadn’t shown. He was growing more and more frustrated with each minute.

By the time a few agents had loaded up the table with platters of both human and… not so human foods, he was ready to bolt. The smell of the sweets mixed with the eggnog was overwhelming.

He’d barely been able to manage a couple minutes at Haley’s Bakery each time he went before he dipped out because he craved fresh air.

“Mason,” Nat called from a couple feet away, approaching him with furrowed brows. “You look pale. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine. I’ll manage.” Two word sentences were all he could handle – he hoped Nate wouldn’t notice the slight waver in his voice. He did.

“This isn’t an obligation, by any means. You’re free to leave at any time –”

The side door burst open, and she strode through, her heartbeat faster than normal. A soft flush painted her cheeks, likely from the frigid December winds.

Mason pushed away from the wall, leaving his shaded door frame for the first time that night, completely ignoring Nat’s vocal realization as she figured out why he was there in the first place.

Aimee approached him, still panting from the effort. “Thank god. I thought I ran here for nothing.”

Something about her was different – a good different.

His eyes raked over every inch of her, his nausea fading away as he settled on each change.

Wild curls free from their normal elastic constraint, cheap stud earrings traded for tasteful emeralds, lashes thinly coated and curled, lips a soft rouge – even the flannel was traded for a tinsel lined sweater.

“What’re you looking at?” She asked, lip raised in annoyance.

“Who do you think, sweetheart?” Quick flirtatious retorts were the fastest way to get him feeling like himself again.

She rolled her eyes, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh, shut up.”

His stomach churned as he watched her take a few steps toward the main area. She stopped when he didn’t follow, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum as she swiveled around to throw a look his way.

“You coming?”

He shrugged, hands still trembling in his pockets. “I’m good here.”

Her brows pushed together, brown eyes (almost black as the night sky) flitting across his face.

He should’ve fucking lied better. He didn’t need her worrying and bitching at him because he was a little uncomfortable.

She closed the gap between them, sliding an arm around his waist. “Let’s go.”

“Damn, you really wanna do it outside? You’re adventurous today,” he teased, shoulders instantly relaxing as soon as he felt her hand slip underneath the hem of his henley, cool fingertips grazing the small of his back.

“Maybe,” she grinned, tugging on his torso, leading him to the back doors.

“You haven’t said a word to anyone else here,” he said, planting his feet.

“Since when do you care?” She laughed, flicking a thick curl off her shoulders, clearly not used to the feeling of it on her neck. “You don’t want to be here anyways.”

“Fuck off. I’m just trying to save you from some weird tension with Rebecca.”

She huffed. “Fine. I’m saying hey to Farah, Nat, and… Rebecca, and we’re dipping. Meet me outside.”

He shot her a look, and she shot one right back, challenging him. “Sure,” Mason said finally, shrugging, then strode towards the door with a second glance.

The feeling of the freezing air against his exposed skin was painful to say the least, but holy shit did the knot in his chest vanish the second the night sky was in view.

Within minutes, Aimee pushed through the doors, keys in hand.

“Seems like you were looking for a way out,” he said, trailing behind her.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sunshine. I can think of quite a few places I’d rather be than here,” she winked, unlocking her car and slipping in.

He perched against the side of her hood, feeling the rumble of the engine beneath his hip. Normally he’d be fumbling for a cigarette right about then, but Aimee’s pulse in his ears was the perfect comedown.

The window squeaked as it rolled down, her lips just barely visible over its edge. “Dude, get in. It’s freezing.”

He took a step towards her, pressing his forearm on the top of the door, using it as leverage to lazily bend down. “Where are you taking me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teased, her breath curling and twisting in translucent streams around them, their faces close enough that he felt the warmth of it. “It’s a surprise, dummy.”

He pushed away from the window, making no hurry to walk around the front of her car. Through the windshield, he could see her reel her arm back and motion like she was going to lay on the horn, but the sound never came – a muffled cackle met his ears instead.

He settled into the passenger’s seat, wondering how the fuck it felt colder inside of her car than outside of it. “Jesus Christ it’s freezing.”

He kicked a few wrappers out of his way so he could spread his legs comfortably.

“Once we start moving it should warm up.”

“Or we could heat it up on our own,” he said, head lolling to the side, a lazy grin slowly spreading.

“Oh, keep it in your pants,” she laughed, tossing him a glance over her shoulder as she backed out of the parking spot.

The ride there was calm. The stuttering purr of her engine, the soft gusts of warm air, the faint sweet smell of her gloss – sensations he could handle. Hell, sensations he’d come to tolerate.

Aimee’s quiet hum was the loudest of them all, but he didn’t mind it, oddly enough. He found himself timing her soft intakes of breath between hums with the hypnotising cadence of her heartbeat.

Aimee was a symphony without even realizing it.

“Hey, I’ve got a pack of cigarettes in the glove box and a lighter in my cup holder. Knock yourself out,” she said, breaking him out of his train of thought.

“Thanks,” he murmured, reaching for the lighter and the handle of the compartment.

He placed it between his lips, flicked the lighter, and inhaled, but… he didn’t need to. Force of habit, he guessed.

She pulled into a gravelly patch on the outskirts of Wayhaven. He was familiar with the quieter parts of town, but even this terrain was new to him.

“It’s just down this path,” she said, tossing a blanket over her shoulder while walking away.

He flicked the cigarette onto the ground, grinding his heel into the bud without a second thought. With a few brisk strides, he caught up to her, slinging his arm around her neck over her thick mass of hair.

“You look good with your hair down.”

She tried holding back a smile. “I didn’t do it for you, but I’m glad I have your stamp of approval.”

“I know you didn’t do it for me. I’m enjoying it, though.”

She laughed, her free hand raising to grip his forearm. “I’m happy to distract.”

“Distract me from what, sweetheart? You haven’t even kissed me yet,” he teased, leaning in to speak into her ear.

A slight shiver made its way up her back, but she quickly masked it. “You were uncomfortable.”

They reached the clearing, the edge of the cliff open, overlooking Wayhaven. Aimee laid the blanket down and plopped down wordlessly, patting the seat next to her.

She still hadn’t explained what she meant, and he was too prideful to ask.

He sunk down onto the cold blanket, dangling his legs over the edge alongside hers. They weren’t up too high – far enough that most of the stars were visible, but close enough that the carolers strolling downtown were mere background noise.

The wind whipped at Aimee’s curls, strands tossed around her face like a halo of coils, the scent of her shampoo filling the space between them.

“Your face was contorted when I walked in. Like you’d sucked a lemon or something,” she said, kicking her feet.

“I was fine.”

“You were not.”

“Yeah, I was.”

“You know I’m right.”

He scoffed, leaning back onto his elbows. “No.”

“Whatever you say, honey,” she teased, leaning over, shoving her arm against his, but he didn’t budge.

He eased back onto his elbows, nonchalant. “I didn’t really care to be there. You’re right about that much, detective.”

“Ouch. That almost hurt,” Aimee laughed, pulling her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “‘Thank you, Aimee’,” she said in a voice like she’d swallowed jagged rocks – her worst impression of him yet.

He grumbled in response, settling into his propped up position as the crowds thinned downtown. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before she spoke again.

“They’re gonna be turning on the lights, soon,” she said offhandedly, voice barely above a whisper. Like she didn’t want to interrupt whatever was about to happen.

The lights caught his attention before he could think of a quip. Line after line of Christmas lights lit up, a net of stars hovering above the businesses below. The wind must’ve shaken some of the wires – the breeze made them nearly shimmer.

Nothing was said for a while – the hum of the occasional car passing and the rustling of the tree branches was comforting enough.

Mason caught himself stealing a couple glances her way. Something was still a little different about her. Something he couldn’t put a finger on, but it was undoubtedly there.

“They’re like stars,” he murmured, feeling a little different himself as he watched a shit-eating grin stretch across her face.

He was more surprised with his own reaction than Aimee’s childlike expression at the lights.

“Is that holiday cheer I’m detecting?” She said, whipping around, shifting her weight to her hands so she could lean closer to him.

He shifted, reaching out to her, wrapping a curl around his knuckle. He tugged just hard enough to elicit a soft gasp, followed by her smirk, one that was becoming so familiar to him that he wondered for a split second if to others they looked like mirror images of each other.

“I don’t know, are you gonna show me the true meaning of Christmas or what?” He asked, pulling her even closer – so close that their cold puffs of breath intermingled.

“I would, but I don’t feel like getting arrested for public indecency tonight,” she laughed, her breath a soft gust against his face.

“Then why’d you bring me out here?” He asked, dropping his hand, shifting back to lean on both of his elbows.

She shrugged and turned back to face the town. “Thought I’d show you this place in case you wanted to come back. The warehouse rooftop might get old someday.”

His brows furrowed. She’d never gone out of her way to do something like this for him. She just wasn’t the type.

It’s what he liked about her.

Shit was simple. No complications. Just good, casual sex.

But this was… different. She was different.

And then it dawned on him

That’s what was different about her – holiday cheer? Whatever the fuck she wanted to call it, Aimee had a lot of it.

She didn’t have to say it out loud. Her expression was enough proof.

“Rooftop works fine.”

He didn’t know why he said it. He wasn’t upset with her for bringing him there. He was just… taken by surprise.

Not a bad surprise at all. Just unexpected. Kind of… nice.

She’d brought him somewhere that meant a lot to her, completely unprompted, and didn’t try to jump his bones. 

She rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. “This is the thanks I get for trying to get you to branch out.”

He sensed a shift in her demeanor – she was definitely a little upset with him. He hated damage control in most situations, but with her he’d rather do it before it blew into a bigger fucking mess he wouldn’t be able to clean up.

“Aimee,” he said, waiting for her to turn back and look at him. “Thank you.”

He held her gaze, knowing good and well it was hard for him to convey sincerity, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, their faces close.

A genuine smile stretched her lips thin in a wide grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. Aimee traced the pad of her thumb over the stubble on his chin. “Don’t mention it.”

She tugged his chin forward, lips meeting his in an enveloping kiss, Mason’s experience at the party long forgotten, cigarettes a distant thought.

He’d humor her by indulging in at least the reflective aspect of the holidays.

The shittiest parts of Wayhaven couldn’t touch his best moments with Aimee.

––––

[redhawtriot]

Caught in The Act (Bakugou x Reader x Todoroki)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Thanks so much to all of you who have followed this story! I remember that I started this series this month to celebrate my first 100 followers, but now I am up to 1000 of y’all? The fuck?

You guys are so supportive! I couldn’t ask for a better group of people to share my art with! Again, thank you so much!

HnM💕

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Finale:

She did not just call you crazy. And a bitch.

Fae’s eyes wildly flashed between you and her sister, “C-crazy bitch? I—"

“FIRST OF ALL, who the HELL do you think--” you cut yourself off before gently inhaling a pocket of air. You were sounding way too much like a certain explosive disgrace for your liking. You closed your eyes as you breathed out all of your frustrations.

“Hey, hey! What’s going on?!” Fae protectively shifted to fill the space between you and her little sister, “Farrah, there must be a mistake. This is my roommate, Y/N.”

Farrah.

A pretty name forever ruined by a slut.  

God, you wanted to beat her ass more than anything. It was as if all of your nerves were on fire and screaming a you to just do something.

Was this what Katsuki constantly felt like?

The violent beating of your eardrums was deafening and your vision was beginning to blur as you scowled at Fae’s sister.

Everything in your being yearned for you to switch to “instant kill mode”, but you couldn’t physically move. It was as if a small piece of you held your fury under control like a rabid dog on a chain-- or a parliament of higher beings had voted for you to keep your cool.

You sucked in one more time as your heart began to slow down. You gave one last, gentle huff as you continued to glare.

Farrah sent a scowl of her own back at you, “She is the one who—”

“This is the trash that slept with my boyfriend,” you deadpanned very flatly as your eyes slightly narrowed at her.  Fae’s jaw fell immediately at your words, but you continued talking despite her shock, “I just don’t see how she, of all people, could be upset in the situation. If you're upset at all, it should be at yourself. You have no class or self-worth, sleeping with an engaged man,” you crossed your arms as you reprimanded her and dared her to say something else as you intensified your stare.

You felt your heart jump as she stepped forward towards you, past Fae. It was as if it were excited by the idea that she may attack you so that you thoroughly beating the snot out of her would be justified.

Shit. What was wrong with you.

You kicked the persistent, animal-like thoughts off your leg as you continued to eye Farrah.

“You’re psychotic!!” she gasped as she threw her hands up, “I totally didn’t know Ground Zero even had a girl! psycho ass!”

Bull shit. You and Bakugou had both been plastered everywhere since your first sports festival at U.A. when you were fifteen. Since then you had both been in the eye of the media. It was pretty common knowledge that he wasn’t single. Your face scrunched up in disgust at her blatant lies as she continued, “She kicked me out of the apartment with nothing but my bare ass!!!”

“Yeah, you left your cheap ass, ratty ass clothes and your dignity that night too,” you rolled your eyes as the words flew out of your mouth.

“Woah, woah, woah! Calm down, everybody,” Fae looked as if she was on the brink of crying, “Farrah, I think you should leave for now, Okay?” She fiddled with her fingers.

“Yeah, I think so too.” As you pettily used your dancing fingers to wave, astonishment flashed across Fae’s expression. Honestly if your heart wasn’t thrumming against your chest so crazily right now, you would be horrified at how you were acting too, but the adrenaline that coursed throughout your body at the sight of the whore in the room numbed your mind.

Farrah struggled against her older sister as she tried to lead her away from the would-be battlefield, “No!! She is the one that needs to leave. You’re the one who pays rent around here, Sis!”

“Farrah, stop it!” Fae pleaded.

“WHY??” Farrah blurted before throwing a finger in your direction, “Newsflash, she is the one who is stealing your man from you now!” her voice raised an octave as she screeched, “Talk about hypocritical!” All of the color drained from Fae’s face as she threw horrified glances between you and her sister. Her mouth stumbled over itself as she tried to find words.

Your eyebrows congregated to the middle of your forehead as you tried to decipher the meaning of Farrah’s words.

Todoroki? Is that Fae’s man?

As if on cue, the front door to the house casually slid open, revealing a tired Todoroki.

All of the chaos that had been ensuing inside immediately halted as Todoroki froze in the doorway. His eyes snapped around as he saw the loose papers from Fae’s books that you hadn’t even noticed that you had thrown around with your quirk in your frustration, your completely furious expression and defensive stance, and Fae’s horrified form struggling to hold onto her crazed sister.

It was a lot to interpret.

“What… is going on,” he calmly questioned before he was assaulted with a boom of feminine screams.

“TELL HER TO LEAVE!”

“NO, TELL HER TO LEAVE! SHE DOESN’T EVEN LIVE HERE.”

“FARRAH, STOP!”

“NEITHER DO YOU, WHORE.”

Todoroki blinked in shock at the words that flew out of your mouth. He had never heard you used such a tone or choice of words with anyone—not even when you were against villains at U.A.. He hated to see you so upset, but he had no idea what to do with all of these women yelling at him, “Uh, Y/N...? Should we talk?” He questioned, causing Farrah to roll her eyes before she mouthed the word “see?” To her sister.

You huffed once more as you stormed towards the man, “Okay...” You begrudgingly agreed as you walked outside of the door, not even bothering to look him in the face. You couldn’t bring yourself to. Something just didn’t sit right with you.

As soon as he shut the front door behind him and walked down to the driveway a bit to meet up with where you had stormed off to, you threw a curve-ball at him,

“Just what is Fae to you?”

The question completely caught him off guard, but he immediately answered anyway, “Our roommate?”

“Obviously. But like. Did you and her… ever you know…” the thought alone made you feel queasy, “have something romantic.” You could have thrown up right then and there.

But his lack of reply made you feel a different type of sick. You blinked in surprise as the silence ensued before you spoke up, “You’re kidding,” you blurted.

“It’s not at all what you are thinking. There was chemistry for sure, but nothing ever happened. It wasn’t strong like you and I. When you came back there was no doubt in my mind that me and her were nothing.”

“That’s not what I’m upset about,” you threw pinched fingers to the brige of your nose and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts, “Jesus, that poor girl.” So you really were just as much of a homewrecker, huh?

You thought there was one whore in that house but there were two.

“Fae is fine,” Todoroki moved to place a hand on your shoulder but you shifted away. He looked a bit shocked as he continued, “She had been dating here and there. She’s unaffected by the situation,” he calmly argued.

“God, Todoroki. That’s not the point,” you searched around your jacket pocket for your car keys. You had to get out of here. Even if you were in your house shoes.

“Im sorry, did I do something? Where are you going?” Todoroki’s calm demeanor slightly cracked as panicked undertones filled his question.

“I need to think,” you simply replied. Upon seeing his worried expression you immediately changed your answer, “I’ll… be back, okay? I just need a drive. We are still cool, okay? Friends,” you tried to sound enthused at the word.

“Okay… be safe.”

You slightly nodded at him before getting in your car and driving off.

You couldn’t believe it. You were slowly becoming everything that split you an Katsuki apart.

Your phone violently vibrating against your leg sent you flying out of your thoughts. Jesus, Kiri. He always called when you were trying to drive your frustration away—literally.

You groaned as you answered the phone.

“Hey!” His chipper voice had a slight undertone of panic to it, but your frustrated mind completely ignored it,

“What,” you deadpanned.

“Oh god, this isn’t a good time is it…?” he nervously laughed, causing your face to instantly shrivel up into a scowl,

“Just tell me what the fuck you want, Kirishima!” you blurted. A long silence filled the line, causing you to breath out heavily in a deep sigh. Way to go.

It was as if you were taking notes straight out of Katsuki’s book today. You just cursed at the sweetest guy on the planet. I mean, you might as well have just stomped on a puppy with both feet, “Look. I am sorry. I didn’t mean that... it’s just a long day…”

A pathetic excuse really. You realized this as soon as it came out of your mouth.

Kiri, being the happy souled fool he was, wholeheartedly accepted your pathetic excuse, “Maybe I should call back then...?” he suggested kindly.

“No, its okay, Kiri. What’s up?” you tried to smile as if he could see you—as if this gentle gesture would make up for how much of a colossal bitch you had just been.

“Well...” he dragged,  “Don’t you think maybe that it is about time you picked up your things from our apartment?”

You sighed, “…it’s really not a good time for me. I just..”

“WE CAUGHT THE HOUSE ON FIRE,” he cried out suddenly.

You held the phone closer to your ear as if you hadn’t heard him correctly, “Um. W-hwhat…?”

As soon as you spoke it triggered a tangent from the redhead, “Bakugou was really mad because he found out about you and Todoroki a few hours ago and he came home and wanted to vent his frustrations out, and we both know what that means, so we got to fighting and I punched him really hard, totally not manly of me by the way, and I pissed him off and then he exploded me and we set the house on fire!” he gasped for air, “I am so sorry!!” he exclaimed in a higher tone.

Your mind spun as you tried to take in all of the information that was being thrown at you at once. Finally it settled into your brain, “Oh my god!” you gasped, “Is he… is Katsuki okay?!”

“Yeah he is fine. He’s is in the hospital,” he brushed off.

“What!?! Where?!”

He quickly corrected himself at the sound of your heartbroken voice, “No, no! Not like that!” For some reason the concern in your voice for Bakugou made him happy, “He just needed a few little burn treatments! Anyway, we will probably be released tomorrow morning or night from the hospital, but—”

“We?!” you screeched.

“Yeah, I—”

“Kiri please tell me you did not just call me from a hospital bed,” you shook your head furiously.

“I just wanted to tell you that you should go pick up your things while Bakugou isn’t there, well what’s left of it anyway,” he gave an uneasy chuckle.

“Isn’t it still hot?”

“One of the firefighters had a cold quirk so everything turned out okay after they showed up. No other apartments were affected at all actually!” You still couldn’t believe this was all happening. You honestly hadn’t planned on grabbing your things from the apartment so soon. Then again, it had been months hadn’t it?

“So, are you going?” Kirishima snapped you back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll head over there right now,” you absentmindedly nodded even though he couldn’t see you. You hung up the phone after the two of you had spoken your farewells, but you could hardly remember the rest of the drive as you stood in front of your old home.

Your mind felt entirely numb as you gawked at the tall, polished building.

The crime scene—where the dreams that you had been building since you were fifteen years old came to die a gruesome death. You swiftly ducked under the fitting yellow tape as you made your way into the scorched portion of the home—your old room.

It was pretty much the only area that had been affected by the disaster as the rest of the home basically look exactly as you had remembered it to be—well minus the manly mess that Kiri tended to leave behind. You assumed Katsuki had been more strict on house rules since you left.

You walked up to what was left of your grandmother’s dresser and traced your fingers along the crumbling edges of the wood. You ended your trail as your fingers found their way onto an old frame. You couldn’t tell if picture was okay since a film of ash painted the fractured glass, but the frame seemed fine, as it resided in an area that hadn’t been touched by the inferno.

So then why was the glass cracked?

That’s when it hit you—it must have been the object that you had thrown at Farrah that night. You remembered that you threw something at her that shattered, but you never bothered to find out what.

Why the hell didn’t Katsuki fix it?

You curiously, but cautiously wiped the glass with the edge of your shirt.

What was revealed was the first picture the you and Bakugou had ever taken together. He was tied to a pole with a muzzle on at the U.A. sports festival award ceremony your freshman year. You had been standing next to him as he stood on the first-place podium on your very own third pace spot.

The memory quickly flooded into your mind.

That day when you fought him was the first time that he had ever acknowledged you. He actually congratulated you in his own way you supposed. He told you that you put up a really good fight. You couldn’t help but to shake your head at the recollection as a smile dared to pull the corner of your lips up.

“Y/N?” A loud, rough voice caused you to jump suddenly before you whipped yourself around. What you saw surprised you,

Katsuki? But he’s not even supposed to be here! Especially with bloodied bandages placed throughout his scratched up body!!

He looked just as surprised as you, “What the fuck?!” he exclaimed.

“That’s my line, you ass! I thought you were in the hospital!” you cried out as you hurriedly dropped the frame into a bag you had been using to gather some of your things.

“I’m fine,” he quickly readjusted his face from the previously shocked expression, “They’re crazy if they thought I was gonna stay overnight.”

“Jesus, Katsuki,” you shook your head in disappointment.

“What?!” he barked.

You simply continued to shake your head as you attempted to rush past him, “Nothing. I’m leaving.”

“Wait! Don’t,” he suddenly reached out to grab you but you harshly shrugged him away before sending a glare at him,

“Why? Have something to say?” Of course he didn’t. He hadn’t reached out to you in all of this time. Not since the day everything went down. But then again, he hardly talked with you when you lived together, so why would he even bother speaking to you after you broke up.

Still, a piece of you yearned for him to care about you enough to speak up as you searched his eyes for an ounce of affection. You saw none—just hurt and a splash of his usual flavor of rage.  

“That’s what I thought,” your voice surprisingly croaked as you spoke. You turned away from him and began to walkaway, halting as he called out to you once more,

“You and Icyhot? REALLY?” he roared behind you, “I bet you were just waiting on me to fuck up so you’d have an excuse to crawl back to him, weren’t you?”

You whipped yourself back to furiously scowl at him. Of course that’s the first thing he wants to talk about after all this time, “You have zero right to judge me for moving on quickly even if I was fucking him!”

“So you’re not?!” he didn’t sound very convinced as he stormed up to you.

“Bakugou, that’s none of your business!” you didn’t back away as you challenge him. He hated it when you used his last name, “So what if I am?!” you exclaimed as tears pricked the backs of your eyes.

“I gave you a damned ring—we were getting married next fucking month!!” as his voice cracked your eyes were drawn to his arms that he intensely held on either side of him. His hands were quietly quivering in rage as he continued, “Of course it’s my fucking business!”

You snapped back regardless of his dangerously pissed off state. He is still trying to defend himself like he did nothing wrong after all this fucking time, “I gave you my ENTIRE being Katsuki!! I gave you my trust and my whole heart and everything else I could muster up and more!!!” You screamed at the top of your voice. Tears freely rolled down your tired cheeks at this point,

“So fucking what if you gave me a hunk of metal with a few gems?! What else did you give me? Huh?! What else did you offer up to me? Affection? Consideration? Loyalty??” your voice heavily cracked on the last word as you stared at the seemingly unphased man in front of you.

He held a glare as if it were permanently plastered onto his expression, yet he didn’t say anything in return, so you continued speaking after shakily gathering up a spare breath,  “God, I still think about you in practically everything that I do…” you cried as you pathetically stared at the ground in front of you. Bakugou’s fierce red eyes continued to burn holes into your image as you spoke,

“…but you probably only care that some other man is stomping around on your territory. You haven’t even reached out to me past the initial weekend when shit hit the fan,” you looked back up to see him still glaring at you intensely. You couldn’t tell if he was judging you or if he hated you. Probably a mix of the two.

What a condescending asshole.

“What?! Stop fucking looking at me! Say something dammit!” you pushed him away from you and was surprised by how good it felt, “Anything!!” you pleaded as you pushed him back again towards the living room.

He still said nothing as he threw his glare away from you and toward the ground. You groaned in annoyance before shoving him back again. Why was he always so damn quiet when you actually wanted him to speak up?

“Fight me back, dammit!” you didn’t even care that you sounded like him anymore. Maybe it’s what he wanted from you the entire time as his mastermind meticulously chipped away at the persona that you had been building all of your life. Well, if it’s what he wanted, you would be more than happy to oblige in this case, “You like to pick fights don’t you?!” you screamed as you used your entire body and shoved him once last time, actually tripping him.

The two of you fell and you toppled on top of him as your tears transformed into sobs, “Just do something, you grimy ass bastard! I know you want to!” you weakly pounded against his chest as sobs continued to tear themselves from your throat.

Bakugou truthfully had no words to speak as he watched your heartbroken form collapse on his chest.

He wanted so desperately to say something.

He wanted to tell you everything that he was feeling, and more than anything he wanted to hold you close to him and comfort you.

But it was as If something in the fibers of his being stopped him from doing so as you laid broken on top of him.

It had always been that way with you.

Every time he had opened his mouth to say something affectionate to you, something vile and downright disrespectful would fly out instead. Every time he wanted to reach out to you and touch you gently, all of the wrong muscles spasmed and he would do something completely erroneous.

It had been easier to neglect you at the time, rather than face you and hurt you, or fix himself even. But it was beyond fixing himself now.

Even so, he wanted to show you at least once that he was capable of doing something fucking right.

He owed you at least that.

He closed his eyes and he sharply grabbed your face and pressed it down onto his own as gently as he could. His hands were still shaking, not from anger as you had assumed, but from fear. He was terrified that you would completely abandon him without ever knowing how much he cared about you.

You whimpered into his mouth out of pure surprise as he continued to move his lips against your own, but you almost instantaneously settled down against him as relief surged throughout your body.

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from your being.

You found yourself kissing him back for only a moment more before you yanked yourself away from him, “No… no, no Katsuki….” You softly cried with wide eyes as you scooted away from him, “What are we doing!?”

“I know it’s over,” he said very flatly, “Between us, I mean.”

The sentence unexpectedly sent your heart falling deeply into your chest, “Wha—”

“Just shut up a moment and listen to me,” he interrupted you sharply. A thick silence enveloped the two of you for a beat as he seemed to internally kick himself for his harsh wording before he awkwardly shifted himself to sit next to you. His arms struggled to find their way around you as he lamely gathered you into his arms and pulled you close to him, “Just…. don’t look at me,” he grumbled, “I won’t be able to say the shit that I mean if you look.”

You couldn’t even find the time question what he had meant as he quickly continued,

“You... are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know I didn’t always act like it, but it’s true, dammit. I know that I couldn’t show it to you. It’s like my mind and my body were split on what to do. I wanted to hold you like this every night, but my body just wouldn’t let me… It’s just so damn confusing,” he finished with a croak.

He shook his head at himself before continuing, “I should have fucking done it anyway. I should have woken up early to make you breakfast more than just the once. I should have worked less so you wouldn’t have to spend days without me. I should have given you that ring sooner. I never should have slept with that woman. Drunk or not—but that goes without saying. I am so sorry, Y/N. You did not deserve this.”

You couldn’t help but to look up at him, but your heart broke as you saw heavy tears falling from his eyes.

He could feel your eyes on him but he found the resolve to continue regardless, “Anyway, I know it’s over now. I can feel it. What we had is over,” he fought himself from sobbing, “I’ll never see that ring on you again, and I don’t deserve to either. I didn’t deserve a lot of things I got growing up, but I definitely didn’t deserve you,” he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself, “I don’t think I can change who I am to be what you need me to be. You deserve more than what I can give you right now. And....” he tried to pull the words out of himself, “if Half n’ Half can do it, then I should let you go that way.”

He sighed. You weren’t sure if you had ever heard him sigh before. It shocked you as he continued, “I used to think you were keeping me from winning, and I was stupid to think that,” he rested his head on top of yours, “I’m just dragging you down onto my level at this point,” he shook his head, “but I won’t let that shit happen,” he finally dropped his face to look you in the eyes, “I love you so much, Y/N,” he whispered to you before pressing a painful kiss onto your forehead.

Was this even the same man you had known for almost half of your life?

“I-I love you too. I really do,” you stuttered as astonishment enveloped your body. The two of you sat in a bittersweet silence for a few moments before his gruff, substantially more put together voiced sounded once more,

“As much I hate to say this,” he lowly began as he moved you over and stood up, “you should go,” he held a hand to you to help you up.

Your hand faltered toward his own before you reluctantly accepted his gesture, doubts filling you mind. Bakugou, ever perceptive, noticed your reluctance and immediately cleared the air as he opened the front door for you,

“If Mismatch ever treats you half as bad as I did, I will set him on fire,” he lowly stated. The Bakugou you grew up with suddenly reappeared.

“He has a fire quirk… I don’t think that will work,” you tried to joke, but honestly your heart was hurting so much.

“Fucking watch me,” he smiled at you.

Genuinely smiled.

Your heart melted at the rare scene in front of you and your weak legs could barely make it out of the door.

After moments of staring at each other, you returned a small, sad smile at him before you walked out of the apartment and shut the door behind you.

What... just happened? You turned back around to face the door and placed your hand on the knob. You let it sit for a moment before you slowly retracted it, cursing under your breath.

On the other side, Bakugou knew that he had made the correct decision letting you go to Todoroki, but the pain in his heart begged him to follow after you.

However, the doubts and reluctance to do so further solidified his decision. He wasn’t ready to be the man you needed. Yet.

He had a lot of maturing to do before he could truly love his soulmate.

Soulmate.

The thought sent flutters into his worn down heart.

A reminder of the faith that he had that you two would find your way back to each other one day.

[authorstalker]

My January & February Reads

The Particulars of Peter, Kelly Conaboy - Do you like dogs? Get this book! Do you like to laugh? Get this book! I've followed Kelly's online writing for years - she has such a unique, funny voice and she tends to blog about topics that are vital to my happiness (dogs, Gilmore Girls, scented candles). She's as obsessed with her dog Peter as I am with my dog Pedro, and her essay collection is an exploration of modern dog ownership. She and Peter attend a dog festival, dog dancing lessons and agility classes, and she investigates issues like whether it's okay for your dog to sleep in your bed and the ethics of spying on your dog with a nanny cam. If you are a dog lover or know one, this book is a perfect gift.

Becoming, Michelle Obama - I borrowed this forever ago from my friend Sarah, but I put off reading it because I was too stressed about the election. Thank you to everyone who voted correctly so I could finally read Michelle's memoir! I mean, what is there to say? The woman is incredible. I especially enjoyed the insider info, like did you know that when the president travels, his team has bags of his blood type at the ready, just in case - that's wild.

Fake Accounts, Lauren Oyler - If you read this, don't look up any reviews or interviews ahead of time because they are full of spoilers! Being stuck inside the narrator's head is mostly unpleasant, but the story sucked me in and I read for hours. Plus it made me laugh a lot - the narrator is a miserable bitch, yes, but I loved her mean observations. Will people who are *not* Extremely Online be able to like or understand Fake Accounts? I dunno but I'm curious.

The Finishing School, Muriel Spark - So weird, so funny, and only 190 pages. This is my ideal book. I want to mail it to my friend in Paris because it will also be her ideal book, but I can't figure out if France is accepting mail from the U.S. during Covid. Kate, please move back to New York so I can give you books again.

People We Meet on Vacation, Emily Henry - I hit such an emotional low point in February, but then I got this book via NetGalley and I swear to god it cured me. I read it twice in two days! Friends to lovers perfection.

Single, Carefree, Mellow, Katherine Heiny - Between this story collection, her last novel (Standard Deviation), and her absolutely amazing upcoming novel (Early Morning Riser), it's time to make it official: Katherine Heiny is my favorite contemporary author.

The Morning Gift, Eva Ibbotson - Why don't my friends listen when I tell them to read Eva Ibbotson? If you're reading this blog post, get The Morning Gift and A Song for Summer - those are the two I've read so far and I wish I could exist in a permanent state of reading them - romance, food, art, music, Mozart, family, cozy Christmas scenes, nature, everything wonderful! I loooove Eva's writing but unfortunately she's dead, so I have to pace myself the way I do with Laurie Colwin's books, uggghhhh.

The Power of Ritual, Casper ter Kuile - This one is all about creating rituals that connect you with people and nature. Taking internet breaks was only a small part of the book, but it was the most useful for me! I'm stealing Casper's weekly "tech sabbath" ritual, which I'm interpreting as not going on social media at all on Saturdays (hence why I'm here writing this book roundup instead of scrolling Twitter).

Weather, Jenny Offill - Weather is 200 pages written in Jenny's standard fragmented style, so it was easy to read in one sitting. Her books blend sadness and humor in a way that vibes with my soul, and she packs every page with random facts - her novels are almost like quirky, depressing textbooks, and I mean that as a compliment. I'm not sure Weather will stick with me in the same way her other novels did, however; it is maybe too fragmented and spare. I enjoyed it and I’m still thinking about moments from it, but it didn't feel complete.

Beth & Amy, Virginia Kantra - I'm so grateful for these Little Women modernizations, what a treat! Virginia Kantra took the most boring March sister and the most hated March sister and gave them the best stories, all while staying true to the classic characters.

[lets-read3]

7-11

Hi. So I made a Solar Opposites fanfic. I like how it turned out and am very proud. I had written one before this one but it felt too serious so I redid it. I feel good for contributing so HERE YOU GO I MIGHT POST ON AO3 I’ll post the Ao3 version as well if I do.

(Summary: Ansel fucking Elgort. Not even google thinks your name is spelled right! Damn now I get why Korvo sent him to the hell dimension... Oh, do you wanna know too? Read my fanfic! ... I try to be witty I do.)

A month. They've been on Earth for one fucking month. Korvo hated it. He hated it with a passion. From their stupid monthly calendar to their denial of alien Jesus but this. Oh, this made Korvo angrier. 

Terry was on the couch crying his eyes out. Buckets of Baskin Robbins and Cold Stone ice cream were scattered all around the floor. Cookie Dough, Neapolitan, Rocky Road, Rainbow Sherbet, if it's a flavor; it's there. 

Korvo could hear the sobs all the way from the ship. It wasn't a surprise to hear Terry scream or shout at one human thing or another, but these were cries that the next galaxy over could hear. Korvo begrudgingly got up from his work and lovely manuals to check on the melodramatic alien. 

Korvo came upon a scene that, if it was someone else, he would have laughed at how ridicules they looked. But this was Terry. He always looked ridiculous which made him less funny and more stupidly annoying. Jesse was doing her best to comfort Terry while Yumyulack stared on at the TV. The Kardashians. Another reason he hated Earth.

"Korvo! Terry won't stop crying and I kinda know what he's saying? But not really!"

"He said something about darkness and light-"

"HE WAS MY LIGHT!" Terry's cries cut Yumyulack off, which resulted in an eye roll from the young replicant. Korvo made his way to the other side of Terry. He might not be very emotionally smart but he knows how to give orders dammit.

"Terry! Stop crying and explain why you need to be this obnoxiously loud!" Terry sniffled and looked at Korvo with sadness. 

"He left me!"

"Who left you?"

"MY HUSBAND!" Terry was back to crying his eyes out, yanking a rainbow sherbet off the ground and shoveling it in his mouth. It was a gross sight really.

"Wait, Terry, you got married? And I wasn't a flower girl!?" Jesse looked thoroughly insulted. Terry gave her a guilty look filled with tears.

"Sorry Jess, but it was in such a quick burst of passion, we couldn't wait to tie the knot forever... FOREVER!" And he was back to crying. Korvo was silent through this. But taking a closer look into his planty insides, there was a storm of emotions in his head. 

'Did he say... HUSBAND!? What the fuck Terry! Only you would be so stupid to get a Vegas wedding! God dammit, and what about me HUH? AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!?' Korvo was close to voicing these thoughts but then he really looked at Terry. His eyes were blotchy and red, his lip trembled and he would hiccup every time he sucked in a breath. Most, if not all, of the pints of ice cream, were empty or very close to being empty. He had been sitting here for some time now, in his sad little huddle.

This bitch hurt Terry. His Terry.

Korvo grabbed Terry by the shoulders and stared him down.

"Who hurt you?" He said more like a demand. Terry looked back with shocked eyes at how determined and slightly intimidating Korvo looked. It was kinda hot, but Terry couldn't think that way in his cloud of misery.

"We met at the movie festival that was in town last week. His name is Ansel Elgort and a day after we meet we got married behind a 7-11 in a fit of passion. God what a hot slice of ass; and he was nice. Then yesterday, after we made passionate love, he said we couldn't be together anymore because he was going to be in a movie that would make him a household name and he couldn't be with me because I wasn't famous enough. I could be famous! But he had already filled out the divorce papers and left me." Terry's eyes started to fill with tears again but he was determined not to let them flow out just yet. Korvo released Terry and walked over to the front door.

"Korvo where're you going?" Jesse called out.

"I'm gonna go to 7 fucking 11."

-

Korvo had not so nicely threatened the 7-11 employee to tell him where Ansel Elgort was. It's fine though, he left a 20 dollar bill in the tip jar. It balanced out. He was on a mission to find a baby bitch, there was no room for niceties. Korvo made his way to the airport where Ansel was supposed to get on a plane to LA. 

Korvo wasn't going to let that Fault In Our Stars moutherfucker get away. No. Fucking. Way.  

Korvo looked over the sea of people until he spotted the Andrew Garfield wannabe. Korvo muscled his way through the crowd and came face to face with Ansel. 

"Can I help-" 

"You know Terry?" Ansel looked shocked, then very nervous.

"I-I don't-" A big man with sunglasses came up next to Ansel. 

"Is this guy bothering you Mr. Elgort?" Korvo looked at the shielded man then smirked.

"Nope, we were just leaving." Suddenly the bodyguard was shrunk to the size of a pea. Korvo grabbed Ansel and hoisted him over his shoulder.

"The fuck man!?"

"Your trip's canceled billionaire boy!"

-

Terry was shuffling through the kitchen looking for more Oreos when he heard a scuffle in the back yard.

"Wait man-!"

"Shut up- Terry! Get out here!" Terry raced outside and couldn't believe what he was looking at. A bright blue orb has open next to Korvo and a disheveled looking Ansel Elgort. 

"Korvo what-!"

"Ansel has something he'd like to tell you," Korvo pressed the shrink ray closer to Ansel's temple. "Right Ansel?" 

"Y-yeah! I'm sorry I dumped you Terry but I want to chase my dreams as a successful actor... Also, I've been seeing my girlfriend again so I didn't really need you anymore."

"We were married!"

"Not really! I was super drunk and I just told some homeless guy to officiate our marriage." Terry's eyes were painted in hurt but he couldn't help the longing to hold Ansel; he was his first human love after all. But before he could go for him Korvo lifted Ansel off the ground and threw him into the swirling blue hole. Terry shrieked and went towards the hole but it was gone in a flash.

"Korvo where did you throw him!?" 

"The hell dimension."

"Why!?"

"Because I couldn't have you mopping around the house like that, it kills morale. You're of no help to the group if you're too depressed to do anything other than cry." Korvo grabbed Terry by the shoulders again that day and fixed him a determined stare. "Now that he's gone I want you to focus on yourself right now, You don't deserve someone who's going to leave you for a paycheck and he was using you to get over his girlfriend; you're more than just a rebound Terry. From now on I want you to think before getting into a serious relationship with a human, some of them aren't as nice as you think. White supremacists still exist remember? If you're just chasing ass don't fucking marry it okay? Are you list-" Korvo was cut off, being held in a warm embrace. Korvo wasn't used to being hugged.

"Okay, Korvo. I'll hit it and quit it from now on." Terry said, his voice muffled in Korvo's chest. Korvo patted Terry gently on the back. Ya know those types of hugs. The kinda hug you don't return because you're afraid of social interactions and love. But that's for another story. For now, Korvo just enjoyed the warmth. Terry broke away and looked at where the orb once was.

"So he's really gone? I can't even call him?"

"Terry."

"What? The wound is still fresh and I miss him!" Korvo rolled his eyes and made his way inside.

"Whatever. I'm gonna go work on the ship so don't wait up."

"You better not take all night, I'm still fragile! I need a cuddle buddy for at least the next two weeks!"

Cuddle buddy huh?

Maybe Ansel Elgort wasn't so bad. 

(A/N: I DID IT! Omg it’s 3am but I LOVE HOW THIS CAME OUT! Short and sweet. I was gonna do something longer but I kept getting frustrated so I made this. Can you tell I googled stuff about Ansel Elgort??? Anyways thanks for reading, much love!)

[happymetalgirl]

The 15 Worst Metal Albums of 2020

This list might have been shorter if not for my running into a few awful albums at the end of the year that I had been avoiding wisely up until that point. My morbid curiosity got the best of me, and what’s done is done. I’m paying the price for it by going back over the worst albums I heard all year. Let’s get this over with.

15. Ghøstkid - Ghøstkid

This was the debut solo album from the former singer of Eskimo Callboy, who had a pretty decent backing of hype heading into this release under the Ghøstkid moniker, but with the namesake frontman putting in no more than the standard performance on a bunch of poorly assembled tracks in an unappealing and dated poppy metalcore style, ultimately the eponymous album wound up disappointing me pretty substantially.

14. Powerman 5000 - The Noble Rot

Powerman 5000 are just such a low-rate band that even one of their more okay albums makes it here. While not as astoundingly, mind-numbingly basic as their worst material, The Noble Rot is still some of the most unevolved, underwritten, and forgettable electro rock and industrial metal I’ve heard from a big name artist. This is some eighth grade level songwriting here, and that’s a fuckin’ feat for a band that’s been around longer than any eighth grader has.

13. Corey Taylor - CMFT

There was a lot of hype around Corey Taylor finally coming out with a solo project, and it was pretty damn disappointing to hear a bunch of uninteresting classic rock too tacky for Stone Sour. CMFT focuses on the fun side that has made its creator such an enigmatic figurehead in the metal press, but its one-note approach does little more than highlight Corey Taylor’s songwriting deficiencies. I really could have seen this album turning out better too, with just some more time and care put into it, if a fun time of an album is what Taylor was going for. Unfortunately Taylor tried to make a party album and a grand ceremonial tribute to his greatness at the same time, and ego-petting and partying don’t really go hand in hand.

12. Evildead - United States of Anarchy

It has some good bones underneath it, but Evildead’s long overdue (if anyone was asking for it) third album wears out its welcome so quickly with some of the most adolescent thrash I’ve heard in a while. The band gets some good rhythms going and the vocals aren’t terrible either, fitting the older thrash style pretty well. But the band’s predictable formula tires out very quickly, and the political commentary of the lyrics is too cheesy and cringeworthy to ignore. It seems every year we get a handful of these kinds of albums that try to get into the simmering thrash revival with some ultra retro approach, and a good portion of those albums are from long-defunct bands who figure their primitive old-school approach might be a selling point despite their sounds often being even more juvenile against the backdrop of today’s metal landscape. So it’s not a huge surprise or anything to hear an album as ham-fisted and corny as United States of Anarchy; this year it just happened to be Evildead.

11. Five Finger Death Punch - F8

They may not always place highest in this list, but they always manage to make it here, and this was actually an improvement on the last album, not that that’s saying all that much. In fact, I’d say this is the only time in the band’s history that they actually shifted their trajectory upwards. But while the band’s ugly continual creative decay has been a hard thing to watch and made them the five finger punching bag of the metal world, there seems to be a large enough swath of mouthbreathing chuds who love their incoherent derivative shit and flock to their shows enough to put them in lucrative headlining slots and on top of the metal world. Goddamn that sure sounds a lot like someone else we all know doesn’t it. I’ve criticized them plenty in the past, and while indeed an improvement, F8 only mildly remedies the numerous problems with Five Finger Death Punch. Still septic to the system are the predictably formulaic and tiresome songwriting, the stale production, the corny butt rock choruses, the shitty bootlicking worldview that bleeds into Ivan Moody’s douchey and faux-deep lyrics, the contrived ballads and country-dabbling. Even with an improvement in the flow of the track listing and a few more bangers that somewhat hearken back to their first album, F8 is still an over-thought and overly calculated batch of Sirius XM fodder that’s trying to please everyone in some superficial way. I’ll grant that it seems as though the band realized they had been giving the more metal-immersed side of their fanbase that has been with them the longest smaller and smaller crumbs with each new album. I’m not gonna hold my breath for this being anything more than placating for the time being; I’m sure the next album will find the band back on whatever bullshit they feel (or their execs feel) they need to be on to pull enough streams from inattentive radio metal bros. I always end with the disclaimer that I still steadfastly stand by the band’s first two albums, and even American Capitalist to a degree, and that I totally acknowledge the immense potential for greatness this band could seemingly at any time decide to fulfill. Ivan Moody is a talented vocalist with a lot of star power and they really could have been the second coming of Pantera or singlehandedly ignited a new wave of American groove metal and metalcore or carried it on their own. But instead the band have followed the money on the path of least resistance to fast-track their way to the top of festival tickets, which I’m sure affords them quite enough luxury and comfort in life, more than most bands these days get, but it doesn’t exempt them from criticism, and unfortunately I think their legacy will show that they were a lowest common denominator kind of band at the end of the day when they could have been, again, like a second Pantera or something.

10. Anvil - Legal at Last

Another year, another album of Anvil unable to evolve past their prototypic thrash of their forty-year-old origins. Though as tacky as ever, Anvil actually also managed to make a mild improvement on their last album on the musical front at least. The songs are a little more energetic and easier to get through, if not for the lyricism though. Anvil lyrics are never anything beyond a fourth-grader’s poetry assignment for their English class, but some of the Facebook boomer lyrics here are fucking cringy dude. A quick look at the track listing will let you know exactly where you’re gonna find the juiciest cringe, but honestly, even as far as cringe goes it’s nothing comedically special and cringe culture in general is played out anyway. So do yourself a favor and just ignore Anvil the way they deserve to be ignored.

9. Halestorm - Reimagined

It feels a little harsh to place an EP here, especially for a band whose album back in 2018 was one of the best things I have heard to come out of hard rock in a long time. But these stripped back covers and revisions of songs from the band’s catalog just suck all the oomph out of them, perhaps making the case by contrast for the importance of the role the rest of the band behind the indeed charismatic powerhouse frontwoman Lzzy Hale play in making their sound what it is. It’s unlikely this points to any kind of new direction for them, so I’m not particularly worried about them running into this problem again. Plus, I don’t think Halestorm and Lzzy Hale are like fundamentally incompatible with more ballad-y rock music, this forced balladization of older songs just did not work, and it makes perfect sense as to why.

8. Gama Bomb - Sea Savage

The fact that this album is only number 8 on this list is just depressing for its reminder of just how much shittier it got this year. The fact that there are seven albums from this yet worse than Sea Savage, goddamn. With one exception, this was maybe the stupidest album I heard all year, at least in the thrash department it was. God this thing is a sugar high mess. I feel like a toddler on an entire bag of Halloween candy or an elementary schooler on a 2-liter of Mountain Dew sat at a computer to program a thrash album would’ve probably come up with something like this. The erratic operatic highs and dumbass lyrics, it all just embodies everything that ever made thrash look bad. It’s like that drunk guy at a party who’s hyper as shit and doing a bunch of crazy stunts for attention because he thinks it’ll make the people there like him more, but really he’s just embarrassing himself. Yeah, definitely the worst thrash metal album I heard all year, and one I wish I could unhear.

7. Amaranthe - Manifest

One of the albums I was avoiding but reviewed late out of my own weird sense of obligation that I wasn’t surprised to find only validated my reasons for avoiding it in the first place. The weird combo of dancy pop music and power metal isn’t as crazy of an idea as it might seem at first thought. In fact, that’s basically in part what Babymetal are doing, and actually getting better and better at. But Amaranthe get the worst of both worlds with Manifest, unsavory pop melodies and utterly generic symphonic metal to make for something I’m not at all surprised I was so repulsed by.

6. Trapt - Shadow Work

Yep, I listened to it. God, no wonder this band is flailing in irrelevance with aggressive MAGA nonsense being their only audible desperate plea for attention. The album, thank fuck, isn’t steeped in the same bitch boy tantrum that the band’s singer has engaged in all year to the point of getting his band’s Facebook page banned for hate speech, and the music isn’t like offensively poorly made or anything like that either. There’s clearly a conscious meeting of the baseline requirements for the type of music they make, but holy fuck it’s so damn flavorless and predictable. It’d be one thing if this was the trendy thing to be doing, but this diet hard rock for people who think Three Days Grace is too wild has been out of fashion for over a decade. And Trapt are just recycling the same dumb formula that overstayed it’s welcome in the early 2000’s. Yeah, I’m not surprised at all, but god, it’s the kind of thing that has to be apparent to the band themselves too unless they’re lacking of any and all self-awareness. Trapt have thrown themselves to the forefront of the online metal world’s discourse by being an annoying, toxic, and childish presence all year; the silver lining being the unity among metalheads in roasting their laughable posturing about their Pandora numbers and the juicy memes about their one hit “Headstrong” that rile the snowflake singer up without fail. And this shit album is just another reason to laugh at them and more fuel to roast their crybaby Trumper frontman with. Go back into your hole, Trapt. 3/10

5. Unleash the Archers - Abyss

I talked about it in my review, but there really is only one simple thing that sinks this album so low. And that is just how incredibly low-effort and lifeless it is with a genre that’s supposed to be so life-affirming. Power metal isn’t the most highly revered genre in metal, but that’s just for its cheesiness. I love it; when it’s at its best, it’s some of the most inspiring metal music out there and I genuinely wish there was a bigger demand across the board for it. But Unleash the Archers just sound so flat and unenthusiastic in this album, and, sorry, in power metal, unabashed enthusiasm is just nonnegotiable. The guitar parts are phoned in and lacking in imagination, and the vocals especially are so narrow-range, it’s all so antithetical to the ethos of power metal and it doesn’t make a strong case for itself. I’ll leave it there; this album is lazy and lifeless so I feel no need to waste any of my time and work on it.

4. Burzum - Thûlean Mysteries

Ol’ Varg must’ve needed a new wizard hat or camouflage pants or whatever goofy shit he’s been doing since retiring the Burzum name to focus on his racism and LARPing because I thought Burzum was supposed to be finished. I thought you were done with Burzum, Varg. Apparently not too done to not dump an hour and a half of embarrassingly half-baked ambient dungeon synth song fragments that sound, so many of them, quite obviously unfinished. Varg Vikernes has been a washed-up shell of the musical god the various weirdos who idolize him make him out to be for a long time now, and it has shown in the gradually degrading work he had put out after his release from prison. Yet after clearly not caring about creating music in any meaningful way for a long time, Varg drops this heap of shit in his fans’ laps. I suppose they deserve it, but I’m sure some of them are delusional enough to lap it up with a smile on their face while still believing their white nationalist idol to be a musical genius. Again, it’s entirely dull ambient music, not metal at all, but it deserves to be shit upon for its astounding laziness and purposelessness.

3. Asking Alexandria - Like a House on Fire

Doubling down on exactly the unflattering crossover of pop music with their significantly sanitized butt rock in their apparent quest for arena glory that started with their self-titled album back in 2017, Asking Alexandria’s bid for the big spotlight that Imagine Dragons occupies didn’t get any stronger this year with Like a House on Fire. After three or four years of aiming for this style, the band still aren’t even all that competent with the basics of fucking pop rock, which is pretty downright laughable. Honestly, for an album so high up here on my shit list, my feelings on it are more or less just that of unsurprised disappointment; as soon as I got a feel for what the band were doing with the album, I knew it was going to be a mess of predictable results. And lo and behold. This was just such a wholly inexcusably floppy paper towel of an album, and one more Asking Alexandria release I know I won’t be returning to ever again.

2. Hollywood Undead - New Empire, Vol. 2

Coming on at the last minute to get on the scoreboard, reliably, is Hollywood Undead. When I reviewed both volumes of this project earlier, I referred to them as “corporate Linkin Park”, and I stand by that 100%. This album especially showcases nothing but what an incoherent, vapid, clout-chasing act they are, with such a corny, focus-grouped sound that sounds like it was made in a lab by a bunch of out-of-touch boomers. God, they could’ve been safe too if they had left it with the more tolerable first volume back in January, but this follow-up sequel from just this month was exactly why I had avoided listening to the first installment in the first place. And I should’ve never played this second one either. The album opener, “Medicate”, is probably the worst song I sat through in my own volition this year, and the rest of the album doesn’t get much better. It’s nothing new for Hollywood Undead after I gave their 2017 album my award for least favorite album of that year: more unfitting interplay between machismo posturing Eminem-cosplay and the sappiest, wimpiest radio rock and pop choruses; more cringy tough-guy struggle bars; more forgettable-at-best instrumentals. Congrats again, Hollywood Undead, you made one of the worst albums of the year once again.

But even worse than Hollywood Undead is an album that I feel like is already so legendarily bad, that there is no other album that could’ve been sat here. It had to be this one.

1. Six Feet Under - Nightmares of the Decomposed

Shitty metal bands everywhere can breathe a sigh of relief any year Six Feet Under decide to put out new music because any album they release is just about bound to end up as everyone’s #1 worst album of the year, and boy is that guarantee becoming more and more airtight with each successive release. It’s truly astounding too how Six Feet Under manages to outdo themselves every time. I don’t even want to think about what could possibly come after Nightmares of the Decomposed; we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But for now, holy fermented shit, this thing is not just bad, it’s like the holy grail of terrible TERRIBLE albums and I don’t want to know what kind of apocalyptically despicable album Chris Barnes and company could possibly conjure to outdo this one. And make no mistake, it’s still Chris Barnes dragging this band down. I gave this album a 1/10 instead of a 0/10 because there was at least a sliver of salvageable instrumentation on it, as thin of a sliver as it was, a few halfway decent musical ideas of you squinted hard enough. The instrumentalists are checked out and clearly just participating for the paycheck, but I can’t even imagine what kind of professional instrumental performance could possibly overshadow the embarrassment that Chris Barnes put to tape in the studio here. Maybe that says it, because it honestly sounds utterly unprofessional. It’s baffling how this got through management and sound engineering to be released to the public because I don’t think I’ve ever even heard any amateur high school band’s vocalist sound this bad. Vocal ingenuity is generally something to be applauded in the metal world, and pioneers like Randy Blythe, Dani Filth, and Travis Ryan deserve all the praise they get for their innovation with dirty metal vocals, yet what Chris Barnes has “invented” here on Nightmares of the Decomposed to compensate for his continually-deteriorating vocals is just sad. The man simply cannot perform highs anymore, clearly, and the alternative is this fucking comical, cartoonish squealing that sounds more like a bratty toddler gargling their own snot than it does anything fitting for a death metal record, even a death metal record at stupid and cheesy as Nightmares of the Decomposed. Chris Barnes should be thankful that metal is not a sport and that there’s not nearly as much of an abundance of performance statistics to point to and analyze to see what kind of records are broken in a legendarily awful performance. I feel like if there were any kind of performance stats to pull up, this album would have to break some kinds of records. Like this is worse than that 7-1 Germany-Brazil World Cup game, this would be like if the Brazilian team all got unholy levels of blazed and repeatedly scored on themselves because they kept going the wrong way and kicking the ball into their own net, and then pissing their fucking shorts. Even in 7-1 defeat, Brazil had more dignity than Chris Barnes here. Six Feet Under and their label have to know they are a laughing stock and that people will listen to them at this point for the sheer entertainment value of how mind-blowingly awful they sound. It’s not an illegitimate marketing tactic, and it’s the only explanation I can come up with for how this passed inspection. If that’s their mission, to be a spectacle and instill cringe in death metal fans in a regular ritual of comically stupid performances across every successive album, they’re sure doing it, and I guess this baffling headache-trophy is their well-earned prize. Congratulations Six Feet Under, you did it again! Worst metal album of the year.

[artificialqueens]

Hot as hell and no A/C, Chapter 1 (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

Read at AO3

When a new dance teacher comes to “the friendly community” in the middle of nowhere, he doesn’t expect to run into a cute blonde local, who always helps out his deeply religious family and might just be…. gay. And really deep in the closet.

AN:

Please not that while this is a romance, the topics of religion, (internalized) homophobia, depression and stereo types will be heavily featured in this story. If these trigger you in any way, then please don’t read!

Thanks to all the different people who gave me input in the first chapter and helped me out!

Chapter 1

”Shit, Thacks, look! We so far out in the middle of fucking nowhere, not even the ad signs get used.” Jose says to his cat, who is lying in the passenger’s seat looking up at him with a bored expression before he simply goes back to sleep.

They had left Los Angeles nearly two days ago and have been on the road ever since. They both like it that way and Jose takes the car, and the cat, wherever he can. Even if it’s the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, Texas. For the last three hours he’s driven through vast stretches of absolutely nothing. Even the desert between LA and Vegas might be more populated than this never ending green emptiness.

He’s close, though. There are houses now, farms, the orchards. Pick-up trucks pass him from time to time. There are horses out on the paddocks, cows out grazing, dogs running around and kids chasing after them.

‘Welcome to the friendly community’ Jose reads, as he passes the sign that tells him he’s finally reached his destination. There’s also something on it about a corn festival, but he’d rather not think about that too much.

The one street through town leads him past a liquor store, a gas station, a couple of derelict buildings of which one of them might be an open bar. Another gas station follows after a car shop, silos and what looks like a small grocery store. Then there’s only silos and farms and nothingness again. Fuck, he must have driven past it.

Once the tractor behind him has passed, he turns the car around and drives back. After he passes the welcome sign again, he realises he has no fucking clue where he is supposed to go. Navigation had stopped working about fifty miles back.

”This is some fucked up shit, Thacks. I can’t even find the motherfucking studio.” Thackery just yawns and gives a pointed look to his cellphone. ”You right, I’m a dumb ho. I should just call Jason before these howdy motherfuckers shoot my gay ass.”

He dials and it takes forever until his friend picks up his phone. It feels even longer because cars that pass him start honking and the children playing on the other side of the road eye him suspiciously. He is painfully aware that his shiny black Porsche Cayenne is just as much out of place here as he is himself.

”Hey, Jo, what’s up? Where you at?”

”Child, if only I knew. I passed some dumbass sign about a corn festival twice now but I can’t find your fucking place.””Oh ok, if you mean the welcome sign, then you’re on the wrong side of town. Just follow the road until you pass the colourful little bakery on the left and the cemetery on the right. Then there’s nothing except some farms for about another ten minutes. And then you can see my dancing studio on the right. It’s the biggest building around, you can’t miss it, cowboy.”

”Alright, then Imma be there in a few. You better have a drink ready for me, now that I know where I’ll spend the next eight fucking weeks.”

Jason just laughs. ”Girl, you’ll love it here, I swear! And could you stop by Smith’s and bring some bread? Tell Ada it’s for me and she’ll know which one, ok?”

”That the grocery story that looks like the roof will come down? With the bright blue, ugly ass door?”

”Don’t be such an L.A. bitch, Vanj’! I swear, y’all gonna love it here!”

”I wouldn’t bet on it, asshole. I doubt there’s any gay dicks around to suck to make up for this shitty town, cause yours sure as hell doesn’t count for me. See ya!”

Once more, he turns the car around and drives past what Jason considers to be a town. Although the old, dirty green pick-up truck in front of him that just off the road suddenly and drives over the fields and grass makes it painfully obvious that this is no fucking town.

When he gets out of the car in front of the grocery store he notices that it’s really warm and the air smells like the blossoming trees that are all around. In contrast, the shop smells like freshly baked bread which makes his mouth water. It’s been a while since he’s eaten.

”Hey, y’all. Can I help you?” a woman comes up to him. It’s hard to tell how old she is, but her hair is badly dyed red, her clothes are old and worn, but clean. She has a friendly smile and very pretty blue eyes. The most remarkable thing about her, though, is her huge, pregnant stomach.

”Hey,” Jose smiles at her and tries to control what comes out of his mouth for once. If he gets into trouble here for running his mouth he’s fucked. ”Jason sent me. Told me to tell Ada he needs some bread. You Ada?”

”Yeah, I am.” She waddles away and signals him to follow her. ”You a friend of Jason’s ?” There’s something in the way she says it, that makes him bite his tongue for a second.

”Yeah, I’m here to teach the spring dance class.” Better keep it professional.

”Oh lord, then you’re Vanjie, right?” she seems really excited all of a sudden. ”My daughter Rachel is a big fan of yours and’ll be attending the workshop. She’s been looking forward to it for weeks!”

Jose wrinkles his forehead, because his workshops are for kids ten and up. ”So that’s not number one?” he asks and points to her pregnant belly.

Ada laughs loudly. ”No, that’s number seven.”

”Seven? Y’all must know how to keep busy around here.” He freezes when he stops to think about what he just said. But then Ada laughs as she passes him the bread.

”We just believe in accepting what the lord gives to us. However many kids he will bless us with, that’s how many we will have.”

Jose doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just hands her some money for the bread. ”Thanks, Miss Ada. See ya ‘round.”

Thackery greets him with a head-bump when he gets back into the car. ”Yeah, you better be glad I’m still alive, bitch. This town is no joke.” He pulls out of the gravel parking space and back onto the road.

Jason hadn’t lied when he’d said his building was the biggest around. Also the newest, most modern and probably the only one with air-conditioning, by the looks of it.

”Miss Vanjie, you made it!” he greets him with a big smile and a hug. He looks like a fucking cowboy with his hat and the boots he is wearing.

”You better believe it. And bitch, you will owe me so fucking much, after this shit is over! ‘Cause, child, this town is way too hillbilly realness for my gay ass!”

***

‘… When the world’s all that it should be Blessed be your name. Blessed be your name on the road marked with suffering, though there’s pain in the offering. Blessed be your name.’ Brock hits the button to shut off his alarm clock and whatever crap the Christian Rock station plays in the very early hours of the morning. He doesn’t even really like the station, but he still doesn’t dare to change it. He’s had the same alarm clock with the same radio station since he was fifteen. Sometimes it feels like time stands still within his four walls.

Brock’s eyes already burn with fatigue, even though he hasn’t opened them yet. His arms and legs hurt, his head is pounding and the heaviness that settles in his body every second of every day hasn’t left during this short night’s sleep either.

He wants to sleep and stay in bed, just like every other day. And just like every other day he slowly sits up, grabs some clothes from the dresser and gets ready in the dark. He squints when the light from the porch light hits his eyes as he steps into the hallway. He tiptoes around because he doesn’t want to wake his parents, but the old wooden floorboards creak under his weight anyway. His parents, at least, should get a couple more hours of sleep, even if he can’t.

The cows come first, then the pigs. By the time he gets to the chicken, the sun is rising and the farm comes to life around him.

He takes a moment for himself when he sits down beside the barn door and pets one of the kittens, resting his head against the chipped wood of the door. The little guy has taken a liking to him and sometimes, when his mother isn’t watching he sneaks him into his room, so he has company as he reads or listens to music in the evenings.

With a loud sigh he gets back up after a while. He doesn’t have time to rest and he’s not really looking forward to another argument with his father when he’s barely awake yet.

”Good morning,” Brock greets his parents waiting at the breakfast table, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek.

”Morning, Brock. You’re going to say grace today?” she asks him.

”Sure,” he shrugs and sits down. He still feels like a little kid every time she asks this of him. If he had his way they would just start eating. ”Father, we praise You for the nourishment you provide. Thank You for meeting our physical needs of hunger and thirst. Forgive us for taking that simple joy for granted. Bless this food to fuel our bodies forward into your plan for our lives. We pray that we will be energised and be able to work for the glory or your kingdom. In Jesus’ name, amen.” He automatically recites the prayer, but feels nothing as he speaks these words.

”Amen,” his parents both say and Brock can finally eat something after slaving away at the farm for the last three hours.

”Brock, you’re gonna have to hurry up after driving the kids to school today. We have to get the barn roof fixed before the May storms come in.”

”I know. Just, Daniel needs me in the afternoon, so he can keep the deadline for the new annex at the Miller farm.” Since his brother started his construction business, Brock has spent more hours up on roofs than in his own room. But his brother needs his help, because he can’t afford to pay more workers at the moment.

”I need you back at four. Tell him I said so.” His father lays down the law as per usual. Brock just nods and puts his toast down. He’s not hungry anymore. Swallowing the last bite is painful and the familiar heaviness weighing on his chest even makes it hard to breathe.

The day has barely started and already it seems endless and draining. Just like every other damn day in his life. Sometimes, he wishes he could just leave and escape. Be someone else, someone who has some say over their own life and gets to do what he wants to do. Enjoy life just a bit more. Yet, it looks like that’s not the lord’s plan for him.

***

”Ruthie! Jonathan! Rachel! Uncle Brock is here!” Ada yells with a volume that one wouldn’t expect out of such a small woman.

Every morning when he stops by it’s absolute chaos. The kids can’t find their bags, their homework or their shoes. The younger ones forget to brush their teeth or their hair and the two older ones try and help their mother wrangle them all into the waiting cars, so they can go to school.

Before his sister got pregnant for the seventh time she was somehow able to do it on her own. But now that the school in town has closed and they all need to go to the one, one town over, it’s harder for Ada. She can barely fit behind the wheel anymore and she works too much anyway. Taking care of six kids, with one on the way, managing the household and working full-time at her own grocery store, while her husband is on the road making money as a truck driver, is hard.

Brock wishes they would just stop having kids. Six is too many already and he is scared to think of how many more will come after number seven.

”You ok, Brock? You look tired?” Ada asks him with a worried look in her eyes. He should be used to it by now, but he isn’t. He wishes he could tell her about how exhausted he feels, how trapped, how much his life sucks and how much he wants out.

”Sure. Just didn’t sleep too well.” He says instead and goes to find his nieces himself, just so he can get away from her and her dangerous questions.

Ada kisses each kid goodbye as they leave and he gets a kiss on the cheek as well, as she stays behind with the younger ones, that she will somehow watch at the same time as she works in the grocery store.

”Uncle Brock, guess what!” ten-year-old Rachel says as soon as they are on the road. She always gets to drive shotgun, because she likes to talk to him, while the rest is asleep again in the backseat.

”What?”

”No, guess, guess!” She is so excited she is bouncing in her seat.

”You have to give me a clue, Rach. Otherwise I don’t even know what exactly I’m supposed to guess.”

She sighs, but then gives in ”Ok. But only one!”

”Only one clue.” Brock nods and smiles a bit. He really loves her a whole lot and she always manages to warm his heart.

”It is about what I’ll do next week after school.”

”Uhm… you’ll meet your friends?”

”No.”

”You’ll study every day,” he teases her.

”No.”

”You’ll help grandpa fix the roof.”

”That’s for boys, dummy!” She giggles. ”Imma join Vanjie’s dance class! Momma said yes!”

”What’s Vanjie?”

”Not what, Uncle Brock, who! He is the bestest dancer who does all the choreography for like Rihanna and Ariana Grande.”

”You know you’re not supposed to listen to that kind of music, right?”

”They play it all the time at Jason’s dance studio. Momma knows that! And she said yes! I think Imma get an autograph from Vanjie!”

”Jason, of course.” Brock tries to keep his tone neutral. He can’t say that he likes Jason very much. It’s not so much that he’s gay - even though that’s wrong too. It’s more the fact that he has to shove it in people’s faces with the way he dresses and talks. Sometimes he has guys over that dress in women’s clothes and wear make up. It’s just… his father calls it an abomination. Still, Jason is a great dance teacher and the kids love him, and so does his niece. How much worse can thisVanjie be?

***

”Brock! Finally! I thought you’d be here by twelve!” Brock’s brother is already up on the roof, hammering away when he gets there.

”I wanted to, but a new shipment came in at the grocery store and I didn’t want Ada to carry the heavy boxes.”

”How is she? She popped already?” Daniel laughs and hands him the hammer. He takes it when he has found a more secure stand. Brock is afraid of heights and crawling up on roofs every day is not very high on the lists of things he likes to do. But his brother needs help and his family needs the money, so what choice does he have?

”She’s getting bigger every day, but still insists on doing most on her own. I just hope Jack comes back soon.”

”He’s the man, he needs to make the money,” Daniel shrugs. ”Once you get married, the days of just working a bit here and there will be over, too, my friend.” Daniel laughs, but Brock just wants to slap him. If they weren’t up on a damn roof without any safety equipment, he just might have. Instead he grabs a nail and hammers it in with as much force as he can. At least the work up here can be somewhat therapeutic.

He gets to the ninth nail when the head of the hammer flies off and scares Brock so much he nearly falls backward. The metal flies off and hits the ground, where gladly no one is standing.

”Shit! I thought you fixed the tools!” he snaps at his older brother.

”I did! You banging away like a madman doesn’t help. These are damn cheap tools. They’re not meant to be used every day to build houses and roofs.”

”Dan, this is dangerous! I could have killed someone with this! I could have hurt you or myself.”

”You think I don’t know that, Brock? What am I fucking supposed to do? Build me some tools myself?”

”Buy new ones!” Brock yells back. It’s not like anyone is around who could hear them up there.

”Do you have any idea what that shit costs? One roofing hammer costs about 50 bucks and I need at least 6 different ones, and that times two at least! And if I really wanna go somewhere with this business I’ll need a nail gun, too. That alone is nearly two grand. I don’t have that kind of money, kiddo. I have a family and obligations. Not like you!”

”Hey, I don’t have money either! I’ve been saving for months just so I can finally get my truck fixed.”

”So you do have money!”

”Dan… that car breaks down every couple of days and I need it.”

”You could just take ma’s old one.”

”That has no A/C and it’s too small. The kids don’t fit in there when I take them to school.”

”Brock, come on! I’ll pay you back, man.” Brock thinks for a second about just leaning back and letting himself fall. Well, not really.

Or?

Is he really a rotten person, because he doesn’t want to give his brother the money he carefully put aside, so he can finally get the necessary repair on his old car done? A car he desperately needs to drive to the several fields and orchards they have, drive his nieces and nephews back and forth from school and to their extra-curricular and also to get to his brother’s construction sites. And sometimes, just once in a blue moon, he needs the car to drive out into the middle of nowhere and scream out into the night and cry where no-one can see or hear him, so he doesn’t lose his mind.

”Fine. I only have 3 grand, though.” It’s his brother and he has to help him out. That’s what family does.

”Thanks, man! Now back to work so I can be home by dinner time. Lilly’s making stew tonight!”

Brock nods, grabs another hammer and lets out his frustration on the nails. There won’t be any stew for him once he is done here; only more work, more problems, more prayers, more self-doubts and guilt.

***

”Uncle Brock, you have to come in with me! Pleeeeease!” Rachel begs when they reach the dance studio. His plan was to go home and finally get some sleep, since he was up last night delivering a new fowl. His headache is nearly killing him and he probably shouldn’t even be driving, but how can he say no to his favorite niece?

”Fine. I just hope the music isn’t too loud.”

”It has to be loud, otherwise we can’t hear it when we dance,” she skips ahead and holds the door open for him.

It’s not loud music he hears, but a man yelling at TJ Johnson in a volume Brock didn’t think possible. His head pounds, but he can only stare in fascination.

”If you motherfucker ever come in here again and talk smack about mah friend, Imma kick your ugly hillbilly ass, you got me bitch?” he finishes the rant that seems to have gone on for a while if TJ’s dumbfounded expression is any indication. ”Fucking assholes in this motherfucking town.” The guy grumbles and turns around to face them. He’s not that tall, with brown hair, that is styled in some movie stars way, where half of it is missing in the back. He has brown eyes that are dark with anger and tan skin. Brock wonders what his ethnicity is. His arms are full of tattoos and his ears are pierced.

He’s beautiful.

”What the fuck are you staring at, bitch? You got something to say about Jason, too?” he barks at Brock, who can only shake his head as he keeps staring at him.

Then he’s gone, and has disappeared behind the door of the dancing studio.

”Uncle Brock, what does motherfucker mean?” Rachel looks up at him with wide eyes.

”That’s a very bad and nasty word, Rachel. I don’t ever want to hear it coming out of your mouth!” He becomes stern, which is rare.

”But Vanjie said it!”

”If that’s Vanjie then I should maybe talk to your mother, because I’m not sure I want you around this guy!” The pout on Rachel’s face makes him give in and let her join the class for today at least.

As angry and crude as Vanjie just was with TJ, he’s great to the kids, and they seem to have a blast. Brock watches the lesson through the glass window for a while, but at some point the too-warm, sticky air in the studio gets to him and he falls asleep.

***

”Hey there, sleeping beauty.” Brock opens his eyes and what he sees are two warm, sparkling brown eyes and a large smile.

”Hey,” he says and tries to shake himself awake.

”You ok there, Mary?”

”Yeah, sorry. I was up all night. One of our horses needed help with the birth,” he says, even though that much information isn’t needed at all. It’s not like he owes this guy any explanation. ”Lesson done?”

”Yeah, the kids are just changing.  Here,” He hands him a cup of coffee that Brock accepts gratefully. ”You’re with Rachel, right”

”Yes.”

”She’s good.”

”Thanks.” He takes a sip of the coffee and doesn’t really know what else to say. He is surprised when the guy sits down beside him. He smells nice, like cologne and hairspray, even after the training lesson, which Brock finds surprising. However he can’t tell him that.

”I’m Jose.” He holds out his hand.

”You’re Mexican?” It’s curiosity not racism, and he hopes it won’t be mistaken as such.

”Nah, Puerto Rican.” Jose just laughs. ”And you are?” He is still holding out his hand.

”Brock.”

”Nice to meet you, Brock.” He shakes his hand and finds it warm and surprisingly soft. He knows his hands are rough and calloused from the work he does.

”So Vanjie isn’t your actual name?”

Jose snorts. ”Nah… just some stupid nickname given to me by one of my clients. I always made her go all Banjie girl in her videos and for her shows, and ‘cause part of my last name is Vasquez, she started calling me Vanjie. It just stuck.”

The explanation makes absolutely no sense to Brock, but  nods anyway. Thankfully, though, he’s saved from saying more by the ringing of his phone.

”Hey Lily,” he greets his sister-in-law, but what she tells him makes his blood run cold. ”Yeah, stay there, I’ll be there as fast as I can,” he tells her and hangs up.

”Can you please get Rachel? My brother fell off a roof and was taken to the hospital. They need me there,” he asks of Jose, who runs off without saying anything. Brock gets up and runs his hands through his hair. This is not good. This could be… he doesn’t even want to think about it. Just the costs alone for the hospital will be too much, for all of them. He feels dizzy, and the room around him starts to spin.

”Hey, you look as white as a sheet. You sure you can drive?” The light touch of Jose’s hand on his arm stops the spinning for a moment. Should he drive? Probably not. He shouldn’t have driven here in the first place. But an hour to the next hospital with Rachel in the car? He’s still so tired. He doesn’t know when he has eaten last. And breathing is still hard.

”I…” he doesn’t know what to say, but he has no choice, really. He needs to get to the hospital.

”I’ll drive you, come on,” Jose is gone for a second and comes back with his wallet and car keys. He grabs Brock’s wrist and takes Rachel by the hand and leads them both outside. Brock doesn’t even know if the car is black or white, only that it smells like leather and cologne. Jose makes sure that everybody is buckled in before he takes off. It never crosses Brock’s mind to refuse the offer, because he’s just too overwhelmed by life at the moment.

Brock manages to give him directions, but otherwise just listens to Vanjie telling Rachel some funny stories to distract her and calm her down. Brock can’t laugh, though, because his mind is going way over speed limit, worrying and calculating already how much more he’ll have to work and what they’ll have to sell to pay for the hospital bills and take care of Daniel’s new business. He doesn’t allow himself to wonder how badly his brother  might be injured. He wouldn't’ be able to take it at the moment.

TBC

[jessystardust]

Quarantine questions

Tagged by @suchasinistergame and @missoneminute to answer some questions about the current situation... I used it as a good opportunity to reflect on things :)

Are you staying home from work/school?

I work for the NHS, so unfortunately, despite suffering from asthma, I’m still at work Wednesday to Friday. I’m working from home on Mondays and Tuesdays. This is all they can offer me at the moment, which sucks, but it’s better than nothing - it basically involves me half-heartedly typing reports while I watch films, lol. 

If you’re staying home, who is with you?

Two weeks ago yesterday I moved back to my parents’ house because Boris scared the shit out of me and I couldn’t face isolation by myself. I’m a very independent person, but I’m close to my parents and I knew that not seeing them for potentially twelve weeks would just be too much for me, and it would seriously damage my mental health, so I made that decision (and brought most of my posessions with me - my dad wasn’t pleased lol). 

Are you a homebody?

This is a really reflective question for me because it makes me realise how much I’ve changed. A few years ago, especially about five years ago when my depression was pretty bad, this would’ve been a great situation for me. But now, I’m used to socialising a lot, so this has actually been quite tough. I really struggle to sit around doing nothing now, which is strange in itself because I used to love doing that haha. 

An event you were looking forward to that got cancelled?

I had lots of cool plans for my birthday and they got cancelled which was a shame. Also, lots of little trips have had to be postponed too. I’m still waiting to hear about the Libs gig in Norwich (I’m planning to spend a few days in Cambridge just before it, but not sure what’s happening there) as well as my city’s annual festival which I’m really looking forward to. So we’ll have to see!

What movies have you watched recently?

So as I’ve mentioned, I’m not so great at sitting and doing nothing these days; I can watch films while I write, or play Sims, or play some other games. But I struggle to just sit and watch films, I get really bored. I’m halfway through I, Tonya, and I’ve been watching a lot of films on Disney Plus whilst working; yesterday I watched A Bug’s Life, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pocahontas, and Pocahontas II. 

What shows are you watching?

I need to watch Tiger King still (it just doesn’t look interesting to me but I’ve heard so much about it), I’ve mostly been watching Disney Plus, but I’ve also watched some Friends, Masterchef, and American Horror Story. 

What music are you listening to?

Hardly any! I don’t listen to music anywhere near as much as I used to really. But yesterday I went walking and listened to the Libs, which was really nice because I haven’t listened to them in a while. 

What are you reading?

I’m planning to read Melanie Murphy’s book during Easter. I used to read sooo much, but now my attention span is so short that I hardly ever bother; I’m hoping to change this though. 

What are you doing for self care?

Self care is something take very seriously, because it does wonders for my mental health. I allow myself “dead days” where I don’t get dressed or shower do my hair. This is relaxing and takes the pressure off. But I always follow these with days where I get up, shower thoroughly, blowdry and straighten my hair, do my makeup, wear nicer clothes and make sure my nails are painted etc. This is sort of a way of restoring that balance. I also do face masks and hair masks once a week or so. Self care is also about time alone, so I go on walks by myself every few days to clear my mind, and I like to cook for my family which relaxes me.

Tagging (if you’d like to!): @playit0ut @westolethelight @lookthemoonissinging @aliskirenn @ohdrey89 @whitedeadflower @alora09 @martianmadness66 @stonerose-elephant @aquarelleskies @withthekaleidoscope-eyes @martha-my-love @alreadyadored @ubeetlebum @rock-n-rollin-bitch @timeforher-es