#convinced they're right in doing it. i love that they get mad and upset when people they care about don't agree with their insanity. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

When “GIF” was named word of the year in 2012, Oxford Dictionaries U.S.A. credited Tumblr for pushing the word.

#convinced they're right in doing it. i love that they get mad and upset when people they care about don't agree with their insanity.

inkskinned · 1 year

Text

she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let

and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment

and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.

and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment

and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?

to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.

and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.

you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.

#this btw is not including toxic friendships this is legit just something ive experienced MANY times now #writeblr #you ever have a friend in one of those relationships where ur like #u don't HATE their partner explicitly #but ur like. what the fuck y'all #like the weird part of being an adult is that you can't be like . CERTAIN their relationship is toxic #and also if u move too fast or push too hard u can hurt someone who is already in a scary situation so you just are like #frozen there. laughing awkwardly. saying ''haha..... yeah..... couldn't be me....''#and like u can't tell - is this banter or does he actually think like. he's better than her.#all you can do is be there for your friend and hope they wake up to it #or ... that it really IS good #and it's just odd to you #tbh btw id rather have my friends feel safe coming to me if they have a concern about my relationship #like yes it's not ur business but it also IS bc im making u hang out with them and also ur my friend #it's a weird thing to experience as an adult bc it is such a blurry line and when u spend time #around couples that aren't like ACTUALLY ur friends but instead ''extended friend circle'' ur like #.... i don't know y'all well enough and he just called you a cow. and ur okay with that . and i don't know how to respond.#so ur like :) okay. um. go to couple's counselling i think #but also you are NOT supposed to pass judgement so it's like.... this weird limbo of feeling like you SHOULD say something #but knowing you CANNOT #idk that there's a way to resolve it!!!!!!!! it's probably a different approach person to person #edited my tags bc tumblr's new system fucked em up #PS EDIT: btw i should have said:#the pronouns in this can work in any and every direction. every gender and every sexuality and every #type of relationship tbh. even non-romantic relationships where ur like ''what do u mean ur bff calls u stupid''

5K notes · View notes

zoe-oneesama · 10 months

Note

Not to say either of them is right here, but what's wrong with the ice cream guy? I haven't kept up with the show proper in several seasons, so I'm probably very out of touch.

He is The Villain of ML in my heart.

His magic ice cream is wildly inconsistent. It's Soulmate Ice Cream! Except when it's Just Friend Ice Cream! Well, until he ONLY gives ice cream to lovers, NOT good friends who have fun together! But sometimes he gives ice cream to couples that DO break up! What are the rules? WHO CARES, CERTAINLY NOT ANDRE! I can't even put stock in his ability ACTUALLY being magic when it's constantly contradicting itself. I'm pretty sure he's just convinced himself that he has magic when he doesn't and his ego is easily bruised if anything pulls him out of his fantasy.

Plus he inexplicably always blames Marinette every time he's akumatized, no matter how far he has to stretch to do so. Once when she didn't even interact with him directly!

The first time because she went home without eating his "Soulmate Ice Cream(tm)" by herself as a 5th wheel. Because, what, her leaving meant his ice cream "failed"? Wasn't the point that two people are supposed to share the ice cream for the magic to work? But because she was like "no thanks", he swears revenge on her???

The second time because he was so invested in shipping two strangers that he got mad at Marinette for...being seen in public with one leg of the ship? After Ladybug had made it perfectly clear that she and Chat Noir were NOT a couple and so Chat Noir has the right to have fun with whoever he wants to???? Because "my ice cream is never wrong"?!?!

It didn't seem to work out for Lukanette or Adrigami so I don't know where you get the gall to even continue to make that bullshit claim, but OKAY.

And the third time, HE had the audacity to blame HER for making him "lose faith in ice cream and love" when he REFUSED TO SERVE HER! He flat out denied her and Chat Noir ice cream because he doesn't make "good friend" ice cream despite them BEING ON A DATE, and then has the GLUTEN FREE AUDACITY to be mad when tHEY are UPSET by it!

Oh but that wasn't a problem in "Wishmaker" when it was Marinette sharing with Luka, but sure, make up new things just so you can get mad about it, that makes sense.

I also have a personal vendetta against him for being the one to out Marinette's feelings for Adrien to Adrien. After 4 seasons of build up, this is how Adrien finds out? Horrible, vile, detention, exile, I hate him. I mean I've been done with him since "Heart Hunter"/"Miracle Queen", but they just loooooove to PILE IT ON.

Like, wouldn't it make more sense for Andre to have been the one person to see through the Love Square? Even if he didn't fully understand it, since Ladybug = Marinette and Chat Noir = Adrien, wouldn't it just make sense for Magic Ice Cream to be able to see past that because They're Soulmates(tm)? But he's only invested in ONE of the pairings, not even like two of the pairings that are seemingly unrelated. He is NEVER as passionate about Adrienette as he is about LadyNoir...but why???? Why is he so blase about Marinette going with Luka or Adrien being with whoever when he can't even handle Chat Noir LAUGHING with a girl who Isn't Ladybug?

They never even have fun and explore what he'd do if he caught a Ladrien date, would he be angry at Adrien like he is with Marinette, or does he just have it out for her specifically?

At this point I'm just convinced he's only so invested in the LadyNoir pairing because he's publicly endorsed them so much and if they don't end up together he'll be outed for being a Hack Fraud. His fixation on two teenagers becoming a couple as a grown adult and falling to pieces just because Marinette has other ways to have fun instead of eating Ice Cream she doesn't even get to choose the flavor of...

Yeah, throw him in jail Chloe.

#also he's a cryptid and I hate that I ever had to draw him #an essay by zoe #andre the ice cream man #andre salt

1K notes · View notes

prettyoatmeal · 1 year

Text

MORE John Price Headcanons While You're Dating

Part 2 to this!

Since SO many people (like 4) were asking for me to do a part 2, here it is! Enjoy! A/N at the end!

Genre: Fluff! Smut after the buffer.

Summary: Just some more headcanons I've thought of. GN reader, no mentions of Y/N.

Content Warnings: NSFW After buffer.

Masterlist here!

***************

Big big big big boy.

He's quite muscular, got that meat on him (I mean, hell. Look at those shoulders). This means he needs to buy pretty large sized clothing for himself when he's out shopping.

This also means that they're a perfect size for you, able to very easily slide into a shirt of his and just wear that with how long it is on you.

They're just so comfy and baggy and cover you up so well, they're nice for when you don't feel like wearing something form fitting or if yours are in the wash.

John would definitely approve.

They'd smell like him, like home, how could you not wear them every now and again?

If you asked really nicely, John would get you a personal travel bottle of his cologne to keep on you at all times.

If you two are deployed, then he'd definitely pack a few extra shirts and sweaters of his because he knows you'll want some with you in the barracks. Maybe sleep in them or use them as a pillow case.

Seeing you in his clothes would definitely rile him up, seeing how the shirt gathers around your hips especially would leave a lasting effect on him. Expect his hands to be all over you.

You'd get the same reaction from him from wearing something more form fitting.

Wearing something that hugs your curves and shows off how great you look?

Oh boy.

It would drive him mad.

Would purposefully buy you shirts or those bike shorts in a half size too small and blame it on forgetting your size or being an 'accident' just to watch you try them on and gaze how the fabric squeezes around your chest and thighs.

Would definitely get heart eyes from that.

"John, are you sure this is my size?" as you finally pull the shirt over your chest, feeling how constricting the fabric is.

"Is or isn't, you look divine!"

If you wear a proper compression shirt, he'd probably die on the spot.

please please please please wear one.

No matter how thick or thin you are, he'd love every bit of how you look, and he'd definitely make that well known to you.

Definitely the kind to love playing with your hair, especially if it's long. He'd love braiding it, brushing it, running his fingers through it, literally anything,

Loves feeling how soft it is right after you wash it.

Will probably offer to help you dry it.

"Allow me," typa guy for sure.

He'd also be very big on communication.

He's had a lot of experience and has realised that bottling feelings up and keeping them locked away can only make the situations worse.

If you notice he's particularly upset, would always vent to you (If you're comfy w that of course) just to get how he's feeling out of the way, hoping it won't interfere with anything else.

Not one to pull the silent treatment, in fact, he hates it. If you're the kind to pull the silent treatment, he would egg it out of you one way or another.

"I'm too old for this, spit it out," in the kindest way possible.

He knows how draining it is physically and mentally to keep your emotions to yourself, so he'd always convince you to finally let it all loose.

Please tell him how you're feeling, especially if he's the person you're upset with. It breaks his heart seeing you upset and will 100% do everything in his power to make the situation right again.

The type to get grumpy or emotional when he's sleepy. Sometimes he just needs a soft chest or soft tummy to lay his head on and he'll be out like a light.

If you would let him sleep on top of you, that is. All that muscle would be pretty heavy so unless he knew you could take it, little spoon would do just fine for him.

Yeah, he'd love being little spoon. Loves feeling your arms pulling him deeper into your chest.

John is pretty dominant in a traditional sense, very masculine, a fierce leader, knows exactly what he wants and how he's going to get it, but he's also a massive softie and will do anything and everything to have your full attention when he's in the mood.

Yes, he wants to be little spoon, yes, he will also lead an army of men through a battlefield. They exist.

__________________

NSFW

He's an ass man, 100%.

Y'know how I said he'll 'accidentally' buy smaller sizes just to see how the material so perfectly forms itself to your curves?

Yeah, this is why.

Will grab and slap your ass at every chance he gets (with your consent, ofc) even in the most innocent of situations.

Whether you're bending down to pick up something you've dropped, over the kitchen counter while pulling something down from the top shelves, or just leaning over the dinner table to wipe it down, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Jolting you forward.

Loves to hear that high pitched, surprised shriek coming from your mouth at the sudden impact of his hand on your behind.

Backshots with him would be crazy, fingers intertwined with your hair, pushing your face into the mattress as he pounds into you from behind.

Doggy or reverse cowgirl would be his favourite positions because he just gets that full view of your ass jiggling with each bounce or each thrust from his hips.

Definitely wouldn't be gentle, but wouldn't be too rough either, that perfect balance.

Maybe a bit rougher when he's desperate or releasing some pent up stress, but all in all, he wouldn't dare to hurt you unless its the very occasionally slap on the ass or thighs.

I feel like it would be out of his comfort zone as well. Seeing how prominent his hand prints can be after spanking, seeing them on your face or anywhere else would probably make him upset during the process.

Spanking would be the furthest he'd go, making sure the skin is red and raw.

Would stop if he notices you're crying. Breaks his heart.

On the contrary, will gladly make you cry with his head between your legs. Feeling how you twitch against his mouth every time he makes you cum brings a smile to his lips.

VERY focused on making you cum first. Very focused on making sure you're comfortable ad satisfied all the way.

Definitely prefers to be dominant in bed, likes having that control.

Daddy kink probably.

He probably wouldn't make too much noise in bed, maybe a few groans and whines. But would for sure be a dirty talker.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?"

"Sucking daddy's cock- fuck, -so well, Gorgeous.."

"So fucking tight, aint ya. Mmh, fuck, keep squeezing around me like that, Dove."

Will only let out a classic moan for when he cums.

"That's it, gonna fill you up so good- ahh~!"

Surprising at first since he'd never made all that much sound before but the more you know.

Its totally hot though.

King of aftercare, tbh.

Would gladly carry you everywhere after you've become too sore to walk anywhere yourself.

Even if you can walk after a pounding, will still carry you. Gotta be treated like royalty after letting him slam into your holes like that.

Boy, did it feel good.

***************

I somehow accidentally deleted the first draft of this I made so this turned out a lot shorter than I first wanted it to :(

Also why it took so long lol. I swear, idk why my Tumblr is bugging so much but losing like 2k words after I've worked on it all day literally broke my heart.

Probably don't expect a part 3, but after having a few days to myself, my motivation has defo returned haha.

Goodnight!! <33

Tags: @mind-nine @tapioca-marzipan @underthestarwars @avalkyrieofparis

#call of duty #cod mw2 #John Price x reader #Captain Price x Reader #John Price Imagines #Captain Price Imagines #John Price Fluff #Captain John Price Fluff #MW2 x reader

1K notes · View notes

wannaseewhatshangin · 7 months

Text

Summary: Dallas gets his wisdom teeth removed.

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem reader

Warnings: Cursing, Some sexual remarks and I think that's it.

Dallas had just got back from the dentist, bleeding from the mouth and a bad attitude.

"How was the dentist?" You ask him, rubbing his back as he got out of Darry's truck.

"Terrible. They took my tongue." He said, showing you his bloody tongue that was still there.

You laughed softly, helping him to the front door.

He looked back at you.

"Who are you? Who is she? She's cute." He asked everyone, trying to keep himself standing.

Two-Bit smiled at his buddy.

"That's your girlfriend, dally." He said, patting him on the back.

"You're my girlfriend?" He asked surprised, his voice muffled slightly since the gauze was in the way.

You laughed and nodded your head, smiling brightly at him.

"Aw, you're so pretty." He said smiling.

"Dal, it's time to change your gauze." Darry said, opening a new pack and went to take the old ones out of his mouth.

"No! You're not taking my tongue again!" He said, trying to get away as he laid on the couch.

You laughed.

"Come on, baby. He's not gonna take your tongue. He's changing the gauze in your mouth because they're all bloody." You looked at him with a soft smile.

"Yeah do whatever the pretty lady says." Two-Bit said, laughing as he took a bite out of his chocolate cake.

Dally huffed and opened up his mouth, letting Darry take out the old gauze and replacing them with new ones.

Two-Bit and Soda definitely convinced Dallas that his dick fell off.

Poor baby was so upset.

"They took it?!" He screamed, eventually started sobbing.

"Wait that means I don't have to pee anymore." He says laughing, laying his head on your shoulder.

"Wanna makeout?" He asks looking at you with lustful eyes.

"Um, not right now no. Maybe when your mouth isn't all bloody." You said chuckling.

"Awh. But I love you." He says, hugging you suddenly.

"Awwww that's so sweet dally boy" Two-bit teased, flicking dals ear.

You and the gang definitely had to to bite back your giggles at Dal's lisp he had due to the gauze in the way.

"Babe, I want a kiss." He said, his lisp coming out strong.

"Sorry Dallas I don't know what a 'kith' is." You laugh

Totally got mad at you after that.

"Stop making fun of me! It's not very nice!"

Craved ice cream since he got out of the dentist building.

"Steve! Go get me ice cream!"

"No. What do I look like? A butler?"

"Not gonna lie..A little."

Best believe Ponyboy recorded this.

Because I mean, who wouldn't.

You can't tell me that this dude wont start singing randomly.

"I wanna know what love isss!"

"Dal, shut up."

"Kiss my ass, Two."

He's just a mess.

#dallas winston x reader #dallas winston headcanons #x reader

621 notes · View notes

here2bbtstrash · 1 year

Text

look down on me like that - 9 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut, angst

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 16k 🙈

contains: explicit sexual content 👀 literally jumps immediately into it (well.... you'll see 🤭) so buckle up!!! also features: hotel drama, reader being v dumb in classic reader fashion but she gets there, a whole lotta tension and angst and misplaced anger, some new friends!!! and yes they're 3 idols see if you can figure out who 🤪, erotic bed sharing and handholding lmfao, probably the most drinking that has happened in a chapter yet (which is saying a lot honestly), of course the GRAMMY RESULTS.... oh yeah and yoongi in glasses, yoongi in a suit, yoongi playing piano, yoongi almost getting in a fight, yoongi rapping, yoongi WEARING CAT EARS (yes these are all warnings!!!!!! 😩) - ok and here are ur smut specific warnings: semi-public sex (mile high club anyone ✈️), cunnilingus, fingering, sex dreams, nipple play, dirty talk, reader has a voice kink 🥴, clit stim, unprotected sex AGAIN 💀, she squirts again don't @ me lmao, aaaaand some lovely mouth/throat fuckin 🫡

A/N: i feel like i have nothing to say that isn't just overwhelming gratitude to you all for being here 🥺 so i'll keep it short!!! sit back and get comfy bc this one's a lot, here we go y'all..... you ready?? 💜

A/N 2: as of 5/27, this chapter has been updated to remove the instances of anti-asian discrimination. i want to expressly state how sorry i am to those who were hurt or otherwise upset by the original content. please know that i mean it when i say i am fully committed to listening and doing better moving forward. 💜

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for their help betaing!!!

read on AO3!

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

~*~

You don’t know how you let Yoongi talk you into this.

You honestly can’t remember, at least not right now, not with your ass perched on the edge of the sink counter and his hands making quick work to tug your sweats and underwear down and off, one ankle at a time.

The place is cleaner than any airplane bathroom you’ve ever been in, and certainly much less cramped. First class really spares no expense, you’ve learned. It’s an upgrade Yoongi made for both of you at the check-in counter unprompted, his only explanation mumbled into the rim of his iced Americano once you’d settled at a table in the fancy lounge: “Economy seats fuck my back up, and I figured if I left you behind you’d push me into LA traffic at your first opportunity.”

You might still do it, if only because he’s managed to convince you to do this again. Weren’t you supposed to be mad at him?

“I’m starting to think you have a bathroom fetish,” you murmur, not quite managing to keep your voice steady. Your fingers rake through Yoongi’s long dark hair as he situates himself properly on his knees between your legs, his hands pressing your thighs to spread you wider.

“Are you complaining?” he grunts back, and you lose the ability to form a coherent response as he leans in and traces his tongue up your folds.

You nearly bang your head on the mirror with the way your spine instinctively arches at the feeling, your hips tilting up for as much of his mouth as you can get.

“Shit,” you hiss as he starts to fuck the muscle of his tongue into your entrance, his thumb swiping up through your wetness before settling into rough circles over your clit. “Why are you so fucking good at this?”

Once he’s thoroughly tasted you, Yoongi quickly replaces his tongue with his fingers, flexing against your front wall at a brutal pace, like he’s realized you can’t take too long in here. His lips close around your clit as his tongue laps over it in thick strokes, and your hips circle hungrily, grinding on him.

“That’s it,” he pulls off just enough to gasp. “Ride my face. Wanna make you come so I can fuck this tight little pussy.” Just the rough tone of his voice is nearly enough to send you over the edge.

When his lips and tongue return to your cunt, you don’t hold back.

You fist the hand tangled in his hair, your other palm smacking flat to the counter for balance as you throw a leg over his shoulder, and you swear you can hear him laughing while you press your heel into his back to pull him even closer. His mouth is warm and wet and divine, the way he licks and sucks at your throbbing clit overwhelming. He strokes his fingers deftly into your g-spot, working up enough arousal that it’s started to run down the crux of your thighs. You roll your hips again and gasp at the way his tongue drags just right over you.

“Oh god, Yoongi,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut, too lost in it to worry about being quiet. You can feel it as he keeps his tongue laid out flat for you to use as you please. Everything in you pulls tight as you rut yourself against his face in time to the building pressure worked up in your core by his unrelenting fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

The plane dips sharply, and you lurch upright with a gasp as your eyes snap open. There’s a few more seconds of shuddering bumps, and then you seem to find clear skies again.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you sit back and try to steady your breathing, the world slowly coming into focus: the TV screen in front of you, your purse tucked into the shelf beneath it, beige privacy walls surrounding you on all sides.

Fuck. You lean forward, letting your head drop between your knees as reality sinks in. You’re not in the bathroom. You’re in your stupid first-class seat. It was a dream. A fucking airplane sex dream.

Panic carves through you like a knife as questions bubble up in your mind: What if you said something in your sleep? Did Yoongi hear you? Is he sitting on the other side of the wall with that fucking smirk on his face, endlessly smug in the knowledge that he haunts you even in your dreams?

Immediately convinced that he is, you can’t help yourself. You press your hands flat to the divider between you and just barely lift out of your seat so you can peek over it.

But Yoongi looks entirely unchanged from the last time you saw him several hours earlier: he’s got his headphones on and is slouched over his laptop, frowning down at the screen, thoroughly engrossed in work.

Just as you’re breathing a sigh of relief, he glances up, and your eyes widen.

“Can I help you?” he grunts, not even bothering to pull his headphones off. You don’t think it’s a double entendre, but you don’t want to entertain him long enough to find out.

“No,” you snap, and then you slump back down to the safety of your seat, slamming the controller on the wall until you’re fully horizontal. You tug the provided headphones over your ears, hoping they might block out your racing thoughts as you desperately try to ignore the dull ache between your legs.

~*~

Getting any more sleep proves to be an impossible task, your mind too keyed up at the possibility of another airplane bathroom dream. By the time you make it through the rest of the flight, and customs, and the car ride to your hotel, you’re nearly delirious with exhaustion, and your body is thoroughly confused about what fucking time it is, though your phone says it’s apparently the middle of the night.

Your brain feels like it’s been in a blender, your reaction time so slowed that, standing at the hotel check-in counter, it takes you several seconds to process the words leaving the front desk agent’s mouth.

She must be able to read the dumbfounded look on your face, because she repeats herself. “King bed executive suite for three nights?”

“Um, no,” you finally manage to stammer, and though he makes no discernible noise of reaction, it’s like you can feel Yoongi smirking over your shoulder. “No, we need— I booked a room with two queens.”

The agent purses her lips slightly, then shakes her head as she stares down at her computer. “Mm, I’m seeing in the system that we have you down for one king.”

Your exhaustion steamrolls over whatever professionality you might normally have while conducting a business transaction. “I don’t care what your fucking system says, it’s wrong. That’s not what I booked.” Scrolling through your phone for a few seconds, you manage to dig up the email, and you’re almost more compelled to show it to Yoongi, just to make sure he’s well aware— you did not fuck this up.

“See, two queens,” you reiterate helplessly as you extend the receipt on your phone toward the agent.

She tuts once, her eyes barely glancing over at your phone before returning to her computer screen. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like we have any availability to switch you. Given the Grammys are on Sunday, this is quite a busy weekend for us.”

You set your phone on the counter and try to keep your breathing steady, to remain calm despite the overwhelmed panic starting to rise in your chest.

“About that,” you say, doing your best to speak in an even voice. “We wanted to keep a low profile, but my… associate here is actually a nominee. For Song of the Year?” You hate that it comes out more like a question as your gaze flits to Yoongi for the briefest of seconds, then back to the front desk agent. “So, really, if there’s anything at all you could do, we would appreciate it.”

There’s a pause as she regards you for a moment, her lips pressed into a tight smile, and then she speaks again. “I really do apologize, but a mistake on your part does not constitute an emergency on ours. No matter who the accommodation is for.”

It takes a second for your jetlag-addled brain to process the words, and their direct contrast to the forced sunny expression on her face. If you were in a better state of mind you might be able to take a breath, state your case more calmly, or figure out some other alternative, but instead all you can manage is a knee jerk reaction.

Because you can’t be in a room with Min Yoongi and only one bed.

“Are you fucking kiddin—”

“Hey.”

A hand pressed to your bicep nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Despite every cell in your body urging you to lunge over the counter, you don’t fight it when Yoongi pulls you back a few paces, giving enough room for him to take your place at the counter.

“It’s fine,” he mutters over his shoulder.

It feels like your heart is beating a mile a minute, enough that you can hardly keep up with the soft apology he concedes to the agent. She hands him the room keys without another word, that same fake smile still plastered over her face. With one last nasty look over your shoulder, you follow Yoongi toward the elevators, dragging your suitcase along behind you.

Practically seething, you can barely manage to wait until the doors slide shut before you pounce.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I did not fucking book a single bed room.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs wearily, eyes fixed on the overhead number as it counts up to your floor. “I just want to sleep. Whatever that was about to turn into wasn’t worth the trouble.”

The doors slide open with a soft chime, and you storm after him down the hall to your room as he continues, pressing the key to the reader and pushing the door open. “Besides, I've stayed here before, and I know these suites have couches.” He holds the door and gestures for you to enter first, and you do.

He's not wrong: there’s a small living room area with a sofa, a desk, and a television mounted into a wall that effectively separates it from the bedroom on the other side, though there isn’t actually a door. The bathroom is immediately to your left as you step inside.

“So,” Yoongi says simply as the door shuts behind him. “I'll take the couch. All good.”

Of fucking course.

The rational part of your brain knows that he has done nothing to upset you. He's been quiet and polite on your long day of travel, and is treating you simply as if you were business acquaintances. It all makes perfect sense, given that you told him your night at his apartment couldn’t mean anything. He's done everything you’ve asked of him, really.

And yet it’s all of it: your stupid sex dream, the lingering bad taste of your encounter with the hotel agent, and the fact that Yoongi can’t seem to even fathom the idea of sharing a bed with you, not here and certainly not at his apartment. Everything has you simmering with a sudden vicious, unreasonable anger.

“Do whatever you want,” you snap as Yoongi sets his suitcase down on the floor of the living room. “I don’t give a shit.”

The rage burns like acid in your gut as you move through your night routine in the bathroom, and it’s only worsened by the knowledge that your alarm will be going off in just a few hours, and you’ll have to drag yourself through a long day of press and prep for Sunday. And that Yoongi will be there, through all of it, just like he’s on the other side of the door right now, inescapably and overwhelmingly present.

It doesn’t make sense to you how he can somehow manage to be too distant and too close at the same time. As you spit toothpaste into the sink, you wonder why the fuck you ever agreed to go on this stupid trip.

~*~

You don’t think you manage more than ten minutes of sleep the whole night. Despite exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, you toss and turn and kick at the blankets, too frustrated by all the confusing feelings churned up inside of you to be able to slip into any kind of real rest.

When you glance at the clock for the millionth time, it’s now only thirty minutes until your alarm is due to go off. With a sigh, you decide to give up.

Your mind is already racing with the schedule for the day, and you go over it a million times in your head as you shower and dress and apply your makeup. When you emerge from the bathroom already entirely put together, Yoongi is on the couch blinking blearily at his phone, clearly having just woken up.

“The car will be here at seven,” you call over your shoulder without a second glance back at him.

He grunts his acknowledgement, and after a few moments you hear the sound of the bathroom door sliding shut again. You dig your work laptop out of your purse to double-check everything, and before you know it you’re sucked into confirming specifics and answering emails, and you completely lose track of time.

The sound of Yoongi clearing his throat snaps you back to reality, and you shut your laptop as you glance up to find him standing in the threshold of the bedroom. He’s dressed nicely for his many interviews, in a sky-blue button-down, and you have to blink twice as you take in his appearance.

“You wear glasses?”

The warm lamplight of the bedroom reflects off his lenses as he shrugs. “I don’t like to. But I forgot my contacts.”

“We can stop for some on the way to your fitting,” you answer, adding it to your mental to-do list. The reminder of your booked itinerary is enough to get you to your feet, one arm wrapped around your laptop to press it close to your chest. Trying to remember what else you need to do to get ready proves impossible as Yoongi steps closer, and then you hear him laugh softly under his breath.

“Wow, glasses? Really?”

“What?”

“You have that look on your face,” he says simply, and you can feel an embarrassed heat creep up your neck. You hate that after all this time, he can still read you like a book.

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He continues to close the distance between you, and you take a reflexive step backward, only for your thighs to bump against the mattress behind you. “Would’ve worn these more often if I knew they’d get you all flustered.”

You attempt to argue that you’re not flustered, but the words die on your tongue with the realization of how close Yoongi is to you now. His eyes are fixed pointedly on your mouth. “I—” you try again, your voice breaking slightly. “I’m not—”

The sharp buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand makes both of you start, and it’s like you can think clearly again when Yoongi steps back to give you room to grab it. You thumb open the text with one hand as you shove your laptop into your purse with the other. “They’re downstairs.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else to you until you’re in the car, crawling through Los Angeles traffic. “Remind me what all we’re doing today?”

You stare out the windshield, not wanting to meet his gaze as you recount the schedule that’s permanently seared into your brain. “You have press interviews in Studio City all morning until one. We’ll pick up lunch— and we can grab you some contacts, too— and then you have a fitting in Beverly Hills at two. After that, your boss wants us to tour the office out here and take a few meetings with the team, so that’ll be the rest of the afternoon. And then I guess whenever we’re done with that, the label execs want to take us to dinner after.”

He’s silent for long enough that you’re forced to glance over at him, wondering if he was even paying attention. There’s a small smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite read as smug. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Huh,” Yoongi finally remarks.

“What?” you snap in response, probably a little harsher than he deserves, but you haven’t had coffee yet.

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “It’s just funny, compared to when you first started.” He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting back slightly in his seat. “I remember when you couldn’t even use Outlook.”

You narrow your eyes in his direction. “I guess people change.”

“Guess so.”

The day passes in a hectic blur, and though ostensibly all of your scheduled engagements are meant to be about Yoongi, you find yourself just as busy as he is, if not moreso.

His press interviews run long because of course they do, and you’re forced to drop him at his fitting while you run out to pick up lunch and contacts— and most importantly, more coffee, which you desperately require to survive the rest of the day.

You’re admittedly thankful for the extra tasks. Even if you do feel dead on your feet, it’s still preferable to sitting around and watching Yoongi try on a suit. You can easily recall firsthand how deadly the image is, and putting off that suffering until the real thing tomorrow is perfectly fine, as far as you’re concerned.

The coffee gives you just enough of a caffeine boost to power through your afternoon meetings, reviewing branding strategies and opportunities for collaborative promotions with the label’s overseas team. Your heart sinks a little when you go through the marketing summary slides prepared by Jungkook, not a single detail out of place, and you try to shove thoughts of him to the back of your mind so you can focus on the work.

At dinner, it’s all you can do to not fall asleep over your extremely overpriced sashimi. Yoongi’s been pulled away to the far side of the table for what you can only assume are deeply boring conversations with the Los Angeles production team. Thankfully, your side is a bit more lively.

“Matthew,” the A&R rep who you’re pretty sure introduced herself as Tiffany stage-whispers. You realize she’s speaking to the tall and ridiculously built guy seated next to you when her gaze flits up to him, and then she resumes poring over the extensive drink menu. “Can we get sake bombs?”

“Why are you asking me?” Matthew responds, and you look over to see his face scrunched up in confusion.

“You’re in finance! I need you to tell me that I can get white-girl wasted on the label’s dime tonight.”

He sighs for a moment, like he’s trying to think. “I don’t… actually know if we’re allowed to reimburse that.” Tiffany’s lower lip trembles, dangerously adorable, and he exhales as if he’s been defeated. “Fuck it. I’ll cover it out of pocket if we can’t.”

“God, I love you,” she breathes, chasing the comment with a throaty laugh and quickly flagging down a server to order. “Can we please do thr— Vernon, baby, how old are you?”

The intern seated next to her blinks slowly. “Twenty four?” You’re pretty sure those are his first words of the evening.

“Huh. Your skincare’s doing wonders,” Tiffany shakes her head disbelievingly. “Four sake bombs, please?”

They arrive in an instant, and Tiffany smiles proudly to herself as she balances her shot glass on a pair of chopsticks laid across the top of her beer. You follow Matthew and Vernon’s lead as they set their drinks up to mirror hers.

“To Matthew’s wallet,” Tiffany toasts solemnly. “The only thing bigger than his tits.”

As if in hearty agreement, Matthew bangs his fist against the table so hard it makes everyone in a five foot radius flinch, and all four of your shot glasses plummet into the awaiting beers beneath them.

“Kanpai, motherfuckers!” Tiffany cackles, and you throw your drinks back in perfect sync.

The rowdiness of your corner is too loud to be ignored, and your stomach twists slightly as you set your empty glass down only to catch Yoongi staring from across the table. When your eyes meet his, he quickly lowers his gaze and adjusts his glasses, his mouth pulling into a flat line.

You turn back to your new friends as Tiffany finishes her own drink. As if she just witnessed the silent exchange, she leans toward you.

“So,” she drops her voice a little lower, “What’s it like working with Suga?”

Doing your best to keep your face neutral, you inhale deeply, wondering where to begin, or what would even be workplace-appropriate to say. The jetlag makes your mind move that much slower. “It’s—”

“Oh my god,” she immediately interrupts you. “You’re sleeping with him.”

Vernon nearly spits the last swallow of his drink back out.

“Tiffany,” Matthew interjects, sounding exhausted, like this is a regular occurrence. “Don’t fucking say that to someone you just met.”

“I mean,” you concede, your lips loosened by the warm rush of alcohol. “She’s not wrong.”

Matthews eyes widen, and he purses his lips for a long pause before he finally speaks. “Shiiiiiit, okay. Alright then.”

You sigh, slumping to rest your cheek in your hand, so exhausted that you can barely stay upright. “I don’t know if ‘sleeping with’ is the right term. It’s just a… mistake that we’ve made. A few times. Several, I guess.”

“I bet he’s even richer than Matthew,” Tiffany says, awestruck, clearly more to herself than to you.

“If it’s a mistake, why do you keep making it?” Vernon asks bluntly.

“Damn, Vernon with the deep cut,” Matthew remarks, and you shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, your words running together slightly. “I’m just trying not to think about it, at least not while we’re on this stupid work trip.”

All three of them nod like they understand, and then Tiffany leans in again. “Let me guess: there’s only one bed in the hotel room.”

“Please ignore her.” Matthew sounds as tired as you feel.

“Yes!” you exclaim, your anger from the night before temporarily reigniting. “The hotel fucked our room up, and the lady wouldn’t fix it because she was a fucking bitch—”

“Naturally,” Vernon interjects.

“And even though we only have one bed, he chose to take the couch. Like, that’s where we’re at.”

“That’s sweet,” Tiffany murmurs, and you make a face.

“Is it?”

“He’s being respectful. I bet he doesn’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable, or like… pressured. ‘Cause sleeping with somebody is a world of difference from… sleeping with them, you know?”

You roll your eyes. “Or he wants to be as far away from me as possible, even while sleeping.”

“If I was the one nominated for a Grammy, I’d make you take the couch,” Vernon scoffs around a piece of edamame.

“Right?” Matthew chimes in. “Ain’t no way I’m getting good sleep on a hotel couch. Them things are like fuckin’ cement blocks.”

A yawn escapes you before you can manage to stifle it, and you press a hand to your mouth, suddenly overwhelmed from exhaustion as well as the conversation. You scoot your chair back from the table to stand and politely excuse yourself to the restroom.

“You gotta cool it with that shit, Tiff,” you hear Matthew mutter as you depart.

Your mind swims while you traverse the long back hallways of this bougie restaurant. It’s almost laughable now, but you really never thought to give Yoongi the benefit of the doubt for sleeping on the couch— not here, and not at his apartment.

You’re still so used to expecting the worst from him that you’ve just assumed the intention is laced into his every action. Even the nice things have felt like a cause for concern, like a reason to keep your guard up, small gestures meant to distract you so he can get the upper hand, somehow. It’s hard to shake the idea that he’s your enemy, even after everything that’s happened.

And yet you can’t help wondering if Tiffany is right. Is Yoongi really just being… respectful? And if so: what does he want? And how does he feel? You’re torn between wanting to know and hoping you never find out.

A voice saying your name drags you out of your thoughts. You turn back just shy of the restroom door, unable to stop another yawn from slipping out, and you bring a hand to your mouth to hide it. Your eyes widen as your brain works on a delay to process the familiar voice, then the sky-blue shirt and the dark framed glasses. It distantly occurs to you that Yoongi has you all alone in this fancy hallway.

You blink a few times, willing the weight of sleepiness out of your eyes, then finally respond with the first thing you can think of. “I’m not fucking you in the bathroom, Yoongi.”

He blinks right back at you, clearly not expecting that. “I… wasn’t asking you to.”

“What do you want then?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I—” he sighs, and you can’t help but wonder if he suddenly regrets coming after you. “You’re tired.”

“Yes, because I barely fucking slept. And?”

You tell yourself that you’re just imagining the way his voice has softened slightly. “Dinner’s over. We don’t have to stay. They’ll get it.”

“I’m having fun,” you retort. “I made friends.”

“I saw,” he remarks, not quite able to hide his smirk.

“So please, don’t cut your boring producer conversation short on my behalf,” you continue dryly.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, to your surprise. “Yeah, it’s brutal. I’d much rather be sleeping.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Or doing sake bombs.”

The question rushes out before you can second guess if it’s a good idea to ask. “How did you sleep? On the couch?”

Yoongi shrugs, then rubs a hand at the back of his neck, making a face as if you’ve put him on the spot. “Like shit.”

You nod, your gaze dropping to the carpeted floor. “Well, I mean. Maybe it would make more sense if, uh—”

“’Scuse me—” a new voice causes your head to snap up again, and you take a step away from Yoongi as Tiffany slips between the two of you, moving quickly toward the women’s restroom.

“Sorry love, I have to break the seal!” she calls over her shoulder before the door slams shut.

The interruption is enough to make you swallow your suggestion, and Yoongi reaches into his pocket for his phone.

“I’ll call a car, because I’m tired,” he murmurs defensively. “You’re welcome to get your own later, if you want to stay out—”

“I don’t,” you say firmly. “It’s fine. Just tell me when the car’s here.” Before Yoongi can so much as respond, you shoulder the bathroom door open and fast-walk to the safety of a stall.

After breaking your own seal, you make your way out to a sink, and you’re a little taken aback to find Tiffany still there waiting for you. She’s hovering over the mirror, blotting at her forehead with a paper towel.

“I wanted to apologize if I came on too strong,” she says softly as you turn on the tap. “Matthew says my mind-reading abilities can be intimidating to people who don’t know me well.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s cool. You remind me of my best friend.”

“The highest honor there is,” she says with a knowing nod. When she turns to fully face you, shifting to rest her hip on the sink as you dry your hands, you have a feeling there’s more coming.

“So, can I be honest?”

“Go ahead,” you say, suddenly a little nervous.

“I know I just met both of you today, but— the way Suga was looking at you? Girl. He’s not taking the couch because he wants to.”

You smile politely at her reflection, and her eyes narrow. “I know you don’t believe me, and you don’t have to. Matthew doesn’t believe that he’s in love with me either, but we both have Leo Moons, so obviously we’re each waiting for the other person to cave first.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “Which is fine for us, but all I’m saying is, if you want something, there’s really nothing wrong with asking for it.”

The urge to shut her down is strong. It’s slightly unnerving to feel like a relative stranger is peering into your soul. “You make it sound easy,” you murmur with a dry laugh. “I don’t think bed-sharing is part of our… arrangement.”

Tiffany preens a little more in the mirror, deftly flipping her curtain of dark hair over one shoulder. “Maybe it’s not supposed to be, but trust me on this one. He won’t say no. And if he does, I owe you a sake bomb.”

A genuine smile blooms across your face, and it only widens when she holds up her pinky finger. You lock yours around it for a single shake. “Deal.”

Arm-in-arm with Tiffany, you return to your corner of the table, where she entertains you by bullying Matthew into buying another round of drinks while he groans about burning a hole in his pocket.

“If it helps,” you giggle, “I’m about to head out. So make it three instead of four.”

“Thank god,” Matthew breathes a sigh of relief. “This girl is so damn expensive.”

Tiffany pauses with a spoonful of matcha gelato— also ordered on Matthew’s dime— halfway to her mouth. “I literally have a Leo stellium, what the fuck do you expect?”

While they continue to bicker, your gaze floats down the table. You wonder if Tiffany’s mind-reading powers might be catching as your eyes land on Yoongi just in time for him to look up from his phone and meet your gaze. He nods his head once toward the entrance, and you nod back.

A shoulder bumps into yours, and you turn to see Tiffany subtly shoot you a thumbs-up. “Fighting!” she murmurs under her breath, and you laugh as you get to your feet and bid everyone goodnight.

Yoongi holds the door of the restaurant for you to exit first, then follows you into the large black car waiting for you on the curb.

The drive back to the hotel gives you just enough time to immediately talk yourself out of Tiffany’s suggestion. The thought of asking for what you want feels like a trap, like displaying weakness to the one person who could hit you hardest. Besides, what if she misread Yoongi entirely? She doesn’t know him at all, and has no idea of the way things are between you. It’s a terrible idea, you decide.

So you find yourself right where you were the night before, like a bad dream you can’t wake up from: face washed, teeth brushed, tossing and turning in a bed far too large for one person. You can feel your final thread of resistance snap clean in half as you angrily kick the blankets off, then get to your feet and storm into the living room.

Yoongi is still up, peering down at his phone screen on the couch, his glasses deposited atop the coffee table.

“You’re being stupid,” you huff, and he glances up, clearly not expecting the interruption.

“I am?”

“You’re going to the Grammys tomorrow,” you say, as if that will explain anything.

“So are you,” Yoongi counters.

“Well yeah, but nobody’s going to give a shit about me.”

“I’d argue that’s also true for me,” he murmurs dryly, then squints at you. “Sorry, why am I stupid?”

“Because you’re going to sleep terribly on this couch.”

Yoongi nods once. “Probably, yes.”

You sigh, because of course he’s going to drag this out of you. “And the bed is perfectly big enough for two people. We wouldn’t even be touching or anything. So…” Fuck, saying what you want is hard. “Can you just… stop being stupid?”

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, and you’re surprised when that trademark cocky smirk doesn’t spread across his face. If anything, he just seems hesitant as he slowly sits up. “You’re sure?”

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling exposed like this, standing in front of him in only your thin sleep clothes. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth just barely pulls up, so slight you could be imagining it. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

In the bedroom, you leave the lamp at the empty side of the bed switched on, then crawl back under the sheets on your side. Heat blooms in your face as you press your cheek to the cool pillowcase, purposefully facing out, then reach one arm up to turn off your own bedside lamp.

True to his word, a few minutes later you hear the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s steps across the carpet, then feel the shift of the mattress as he slips into bed on his side. He fumbles on the nightstand with what must be his glasses and his phone, and then you hear the click of the light, and the room disappears into darkness.

There’s a rustle and a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, and you were right: the two of you can easily share the bed without touching, plenty of space on the mattress between you.

Even so, having him closer is somehow… better. Comforting. You try not to dwell too much on it.

Flipping over onto your back, you stare up at the infinite black of the ceiling above you, your eyes already starting to weigh heavy. You don’t know where the question comes from, or why you ask it.

“Are you nervous?”

When he answers, Yoongi sounds half-asleep, too. “About what?”

“The Grammys?”

“Oh.” There’s a stirring sound, and then he speaks, like he’s just remembered you can’t see him shrugging. “I don’t know. A little.”

The only reply you’re capable of is a soft hum, and now you really can’t keep your eyes open. You curl up on your side again, cheek smushing into the pillow, and your consciousness whirs up one last coherent thought before you fully slip under: What else would he be nervous about?

~*~

You wake up to the warm glow of morning beneath your eyelids, and when you blink them open, the room is lit soft, dappled in sunlight that has managed to sneak between the thick hotel curtains. It’s warm in this bed too, and comfortable, and you sigh quietly to yourself as you stir a little under the covers. With a stifled yawn, you move to turn onto your back, and it’s only when you meet a gentle resistance that you realize why you’re so warm.

Yoongi must just be waking up too, because you immediately feel his body start at the realization that he pulled you close at some point during the night: an arm thrown over your waist, his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice low and rough with sleep. “Sorry.” As the mattress starts to shift behind you, you respond on pure physical instinct and close your hand around Yoongi’s wrist.

“Stay.” The word comes out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

Yoongi’s response is a soft grunt, and a bolt of panic quickens your pulse. You’re suddenly worried he might not want to stay, that he might even laugh at you for thinking you could have it like this, wrapped in his arms and waking up slowly. The furthest thing from hatred— and isn’t that what this is supposed to be?

But then his grip tightens to pull you that much closer, and he wordlessly presses his face into the crook of your neck. Your heart flutters in your chest, sweet and terrified. The heat of his breath over your skin makes you lean into him instinctively, and when your hips tilt, you can feel the unmistakable bulge of his clothed cock against your ass.

“God,” Yoongi groans. The deep gravel of his voice is enough to tighten your nipples beneath your tank top. “You make me so fucking hard. Dreamt about fucking you in this bed.”

“We woke up early,” you murmur. “So. There’s time.”

He grunts a low note in response. You can already feel the thin material of your sleep shorts growing wet between your legs as you slowly grind your hips back on him.

Yoongi’s hand slips up your body, fingertips dragging over the fabric of your top until his palm is pressed to the column of your throat. You inhale softly, your head tipping up to allow him better access. His grip just barely tightens, and when he speaks in your ear, you can hear the smile around his words. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me, Yoongi,” you breathe. “In this bed.”

When you repeat his words back to him, Yoongi exhales a laugh, and then you feel him press a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Something melts open inside of you at the brush of his lips, a sudden rush of an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. Something you certainly never expected to feel with Min fucking Yoongi, of all people.

He releases his hold on your throat, and his hand makes short work of slipping the straps of your tank top off your shoulders, then yanking the loose fabric down to expose your tits. You shiver a little at the morning air against your bare skin.

Yoongi’s palm closes around one of your breasts, lazily massaging it, and you rut your ass back on him with a small whimper. The heat of his mouth trails more kisses up your neck, and then his deep voice is in your ear again.

“Did you sleep okay?” He pairs the question with his thumb dragging circles over the stiff bud of your nipple, earning another soft noise from you.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond. “Better than the first night.”

He hums against the shell of your ear, the timbre of his rough voice setting every last one of your nerve endings alight. Overcome with desire, you can barely focus on his words as his hand traces along your waist to slip down the back of your shorts.

“Me too. So much better than the fucking couch.”

Two of his fingers tease over your slit, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh at how wet he finds you, how turned on you already are. When he swipes between your folds to circle at your entrance, you can hear your own slickness, chased with a soft noise of appreciation that escapes Yoongi’s mouth as he plunges both digits into your pussy. You can’t help but moan, too.

He could easily make you come just like this, but you want him too much.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, twisting slightly to reach a hand behind you. You trace down the hard muscles of his stomach, apparent even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, until your palm drags along the thick outline of his cock straining beneath his boxer briefs. He’s so hard that he pulses under your touch, and you’re sure he must be able to feel the way your pussy flutters at the thought of this cock filling you up.

“Needy,” he purrs, his mouth against your neck.

“Shut up,” you answer automatically, not quite able to keep your voice steady with the way he’s fucking his fingers into you.

But Yoongi doesn’t torment you— you only have to give his clothed length one slow pump before his hands are pushing your shorts over your legs, like he can’t get them off fast enough. You kick them the rest of the way off while he works his boxers down, and then you arch back as his cock starts to tease your pussy lips apart.

He slips easily through your folds, painting you both in a mixture of pre-cum and arousal as he grinds himself over the whole of your slit. You bite back a moan when the head of his dick rubs up to your clit, smearing wetness there in steady strokes that make you gasp and writhe.

“Can I go raw again?” he asks so softly in your ear, and your cunt throbs as you whimper your consent.

It’s impossible to keep quiet now, not with how perfectly his cock pushes into you, stretching you open to take him. You press your face into the pillow to slightly muffle your sounds, and you can hear Yoongi groan behind you.

“Fuck,” he hisses roughly. “You’re ruining me. I may never be able to go back to condoms.”

“Yoongi,” you whine as he sheathes himself fully with a grunt of effort, giving you a few moments to adjust before he moves. “If you keep fucking talking in my ear with your morning voice like that—” your own voice breaks off mid-sentence as he drags his cock out just to fuck it back into you, and you have to take a breath before trying again. “I’m gonna come in five seconds.”

When he presses his mouth to your shoulder, you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Is that right?” The low rumble of his question buzzes through you, and your walls tighten around him in response. “You like it that much?”

You can barely remember how to form words with the way he’s started to thrust, the head of his cock sparking hot pleasure each time he rubs himself over the ridges of your front wall. “What if I do?”

Yoongi hums into the crook of your neck, purposefully drawing the sound out to make a shiver run up your spine, and you can’t help moaning. His hand slips between your thighs to nudge them apart, and you’re easily pliant for him, spreading yourself at his guidance so his fingers can find your clit.

“I’d tell you how fucking good you look like this,” he murmurs against your skin. “How well you take my cock.” You roll your hips in time with his strokes, and his free arm slips between your shoulder and the bed to wrap around your chest, giving him leverage to fuck you harder.

“Oh my god.” You nearly choke on your words as he pounds into you, unrelenting now, and your fingertips claw desperately at the pillow beneath your head.

“Pussy’s always so fucking tight, shit,” he groans. “Should’ve just done this the whole weekend. Don’t know how I even let you leave the room.”

Your feet flex helplessly against the bedsheets as Yoongi’s hand rubs a steadily building pressure into your core that threatens to overflow. His fingers move in tight circles over your clit like he knows your body well— which, you guess, he does. The thought of him keeping you here all weekend, tangled up in these sheets, fucking you senseless and making you come again and again and again is dizzying, enough to make your pussy start to pulse around his length.

“Yoongi,” you gasp. “Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

His lips brush over your shoulder, his voice stilted by how roughly he’s fucking into you. “Yeah, come on this cock. Make a mess for me.”

The pleasure is so overwhelming you almost want to squirm away from it, but then his fingers press your clit just right to snap a final thread and send you over the edge. Your thighs shake violently as your climax rips through you, and a rush of fluid squirts out of your cunt to coat the length of his dick and soak a wet spot into the sheets.

Yoongi groans unabashedly at the sight, still fucking you through the waves of your orgasm, his thrusts slowing as if to hold off his own end while your pussy keeps shuddering around him.

You take your time coming all the way down, lost in how good it feels, and then you slump back against the pillow with a ragged sigh, your head swimming. “Holy shit.”

His throbbing-hard cock is still clenched inside your heat, and the bed shifts when he gently pulls out. Dazed, you turn over to watch him as he kneels up on the bed next to you, his knees sinking soft divots into the mattress, and starts to slowly pump himself.

And fuck. He looks so good like this: long hair mussed from sex and sleep, with a half-awake look of concentration on his face, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth and the muscles of his arm flexing with every stroke. Watching him get himself off has only gotten hotter since you saw it the first time, and you didn’t think that was possible.

It feels like it takes all the effort you have left in your body, but you manage to sit up and turn to face him. In one assured move, you reach down to grab his wrist and pull his hand off his cock.

Yoongi whines a little at the realization of what you’re doing, and he leans back to give you full access as you settle yourself on all fours in front of him.

“Oh fuck yeah, please suck me off.”

“Please?” you laugh, pausing to glance up at him. “Who taught you manners?”

“That fucking mouth did,” he growls, and it’s punctuated with a relieved moan as you drag your tongue up his shaft. One of his hands tangles in your hair while you lick the heady taste of yourself off his cock, then breathe deep through your nose so you can swallow him down.

Yoongi’s breath comes in ragged pants as you hollow your cheeks around him and start to bob your head, letting his tip rub against the back of your throat on every pass. You feel his fingers in your hair tighten, and his hips shove up to match your strokes, like he’s already close to coming undone.

This thick cock weighs heavy and familiar on your tongue, warm like the rays of morning sun that have reached far enough into the room to wash over the bedsheets now. Drool spills out from the seal of your lips around Yoongi’s shaft, and the sound of him fucking your mouth is obscene, pornographic as it floats up to the ceiling.

“God,” Yoongi gasps. “Gonna come down your pretty fucking throat.”

And it’s funny— once, this would have made you feel powerful, in control, like the person with the upper hand. The winner. But in this moment, it occurs to you that you don’t really give a shit about winning anymore. Now his words just make you hum and suppress a smile around his cock in your mouth. When you notice the way his thighs tremble in response, you keep going, vibrating his length while you sink as far down as you can take it.

The hand in your hair releases, and then his palm just barely brushes over the bulge of his cock in your throat as if in admiration. Eyes rolling back, you let your jaw slacken and swallow hard on the stretch of him there.

“Jesus, fuck,” he groans, and then he’s coming, and the throb of him in your mouth still feels like a reward. You pull back a little to keep from gagging as he paints fat ropes of cum into the tight clutch of your throat. Sucking firmly around him through spasm after spasm, you swallow it all down greedily until you feel him going soft on your tongue.

You finally pull off with a wet pop, dazed and laughing as you roll over and collapse into a heap against the mattress, thoroughly spent.

“Okay,” Yoongi manages to say on an exhale, though you can hear he’s still short of breath, too. You glance up to see him raking a hand through his hair, looking fucked out of his mind. “I’m ready to go win a Grammy now.”

There’s just enough time for each of you to shower and get dressed before a whole team of people arrive for Yoongi: stylists, hair and makeup, and most importantly, coffee delivery. Yoongi blinks wide-eyed at you as you press the largest iced Americano you could find in downtown Los Angeles into his hands, and then you step back to let everyone get to work.

Meanwhile, you spend the next few hours in a rush of attempting to get yourself ready, all while double-checking the schedule, answering emails on the fly from your phone, and trying desperately to ignore the anxiety that’s started to hum in the pit of your stomach.

Once your hair and makeup are as decent as you can get them, you slip the black dress you packed for tonight— a rental, because buying a black tie dress was absolutely out of your price range— off the hanger and step carefully into it. Watching yourself in the mirror, you reach behind you for the zipper only to realize you can’t quite manage to pull it up past the small of your back.

Fuck. You didn’t even think about the fact that Jimin helped you zip this thing up when you tried it on initially, during a night at your place where you split two bottles of wine and he performed his own personal critique of all your dress rental options. This was the only one he’d liked.

With a nervous sigh, you head for the bathroom door, figuring that you’ll be able to subtly grab the attention of one of Yoongi’s many stylists to help.

But when you slowly slide the door open, one hand pressing the fabric of your dress in place over your chest, you realize the room has fallen quiet. As you lean across the threshold, you see why: everyone is gone.

Except for Yoongi, who glances up from where he’s sunk into the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

“Where is everyone?” you snap, probably a little harsher than you need to be.

He frowns like he doesn’t understand the question. “They… left? Because they were done? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a big awards show tonight. Means the stylists are pretty booked today.”

Yoongi gets to his feet to cross the room, and you fumble awkwardly, trying to keep your dress up. He’s fully put together now in a well-fitted suit and tie, and with his long hair styled and subtle makeup applied to enhance his features, he looks… good. Too good. Deadly. You can’t quite manage to maintain eye contact, and find yourself staring dumbly at the floor instead.

His voice softens slightly as he steps in close to you. “What’s wrong? Does it not fit?”

“It fucking better,” you mutter. “I just… can’t reach the zipper.”

“Are you asking for my help?”

Your gaze flits up to meet his, and you’re a little surprised by his question. “There’s nobody else here,” you retort, stubborn.

When he blinks evenly back at you, like he’s waiting for something, you realize he’s not going to make this easy. Fucking hell. Another tense moment passes, and he just blinks again.

“Yes,” you finally give in with a frustrated sigh. “Will you please help me, Yoongi?”

“Turn around,” he murmurs, and you do.

His hand slides over the small of your back, and then he slowly starts to ease the zipper up. You don’t dare move a muscle until he’s done, and it’s only once he buttons the closure at the top that you breathe a serious sigh of relief. The dress fits like a glove.

You attempt to compose yourself enough to thank him, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel the heat of his breath against your skin.

His low voice resonates in the quiet of the room as he leans in. “Was that so hard?”

You turn your head as if to argue, but then there’s a split second where you feel his lips brush over your neck, just below your ear. So slight it could’ve been an accident.

“Thanks,” you manage to choke out, and then you slip away from him to get your heels from the bedroom and try to remember how to breathe. You do your best to ignore the fact that your hands are shaking as you pull your shoes on, then pause in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe, giving yourself a final once-over.

As you smooth your hands down the black velvet fabric and turn to the side, you glance up to find Yoongi hovering in the threshold, watching you.

“That dress,” he remarks, sounding a little dazed. You have to fight to keep the smile off your face when he trails off, unable to say more— you didn’t think it was possible to make Min Yoongi speechless. It’s not a bad feeling.

And you do like this dress, even though you could never actually afford it. It’s simple but elegant, a sleeveless column style with a plunging neckline and a slit that reaches your mid-thigh. Nothing groundbreaking, but it sticks to your curves like water and makes you feel somewhat more like a person who belongs at a fancy awards show.

“Jimin picked it,” you respond, and you hear Yoongi exhale a laugh.

“He has good taste.”

You turn toward him as your hidden smile pulls into a smirk. “Well, I’m not dressed up for you,” you chide, and you revel in the way his face drops briefly in surprise before he’s able to conceal it. “I’m trying to meet Kendrick.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

You’re thankful that you purposefully padded your schedule with extra time, because you lose nearly every last minute of it stuck in the gridlock of Los Angeles traffic on the night of a huge event.

By the time you make it to the venue, you’re practically nauseous from all the stopping and starting and crawling of the car, and Yoongi looks equally bad, though you suspect his condition might be more anxiety-related.

As it turns out, the Grammys are a lot less glamorous when you’re only mildly famous, at least by American standards. The two of you are shepherded by security to another ‘lane’ of the red carpet and warned not to stop as you make your way into the building. You observe from afar while A-list celebrities pass in a blur, flashbulbs pop bright enough to blind you, and chatter is drowned out by the sound of fans screaming and the clamor of reporters trying to grab the biggest names for an interview.

“I’m so glad I’m not that fucking famous,” Yoongi scoffs, though he doesn’t quite manage to hide the nerves in his voice.

“Come on,” you murmur once you get inside, nodding toward a pop-up bar in a far corner of the lobby. “Take the edge off. And I’m gonna need alcohol if I have to sit through a fucking three-hour show.”

You down your drinks quickly, only a few minutes shy of the time by which you have to be in your seats, and you return from tossing the empties in the trash to see Yoongi eyeing a piano pushed against the far wall, clearly for show. He takes a seat, glancing around as if in fear of getting yelled at, then gently pushes up the key lid.

“Ooh, do Wine!” you tease with a laugh as you drop onto the bench beside him, but he actually does start to play, one foot pressing down on a pedal to keep the sound soft. His fingers alight over the keys, and the song he plucks out is beautiful. It’s a melody that almost feels nostalgic to you, even though you know you’ve never heard it before.

“What is this?” you ask, and he keeps playing as he responds.

“Do you know Sakamoto?”

You hum a no as you shake your head.

His eyes narrow slightly. “Remind me how you work in the music industry?”

A smile plays at your lips, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up. You know I’m a fraud.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss a note when he glances up to meet your gaze. “Are you?”

It’s only now that you realize how close he is: the two of you are basically sitting hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. For a moment, you forget about the Grammys, forget that anyone else is even in the room.

“Excuse me!” A voice snaps you out of the moment, and you scoot away from Yoongi so quickly you nearly topple off the bench. “That’s not meant to be played, and we need everyone to head to their seats, please!” Your face flushes with an embarrassed heat, and Yoongi lifts a hand apologetically as he covers the keys back up.

You stick close to his side so as not to lose him in the large crowd of people. “Bet they’ll let you play whatever piano you want once you have one of those dumb little trophies,” you mutter under your breath, and Yoongi really laughs, like he wasn’t expecting the comment.

Another thing you didn’t necessarily anticipate: the Grammys are fucking long. You knew it would be over three hours, but you realize you severely underestimated how long that time would feel. While the performances are incredible (and you have to dig your nails into the cushion of your seat to keep from squealing when you spot Lil Nas X a few rows in front of you), there’s plenty of filler between them, and it feels a lot drier when you’re physically in the room for it. Even the commercial breaks are far too short for you to have enough time to actually run to the restroom or get another drink.

You’re also starving. “I hate that they don’t serve food at these things,” you hiss to Yoongi during a break, but it’s late enough in the night now that he’s barely speaking, apart from the occasional monotone grunt.

Though you’ve been waiting for it all evening, you still don’t quite know if you’re ready when the host starts to run down the list of nominees for Song of the Year.

As he’s only credited as a writer, they don’t actually say Yoongi’s pseudonym, but pride still squeezes tight in your chest when you see “Suga” spelled out across the on-stage monitors beneath the name of the song.

They get through all the titles in what seems like less than a second, and your heart feels like it might give out as an anticipatory silence settles over the crowd. The host fumbles with getting the envelope open, and you’re so tense, you flinch hard at an unexpected brush of contact.

You glance down, and it takes a moment for your brain to process what’s happened. He’s not looking at you, hasn’t said anything, but Yoongi has nevertheless reached over to grab your hand. His long fingers lace through yours, gripping surprisingly tight, and the skin of his palm is warm and dry. It’s like your brain short-circuits for a moment as you stare stupidly at your joined hands, and he gives yours a single nervous squeeze.

“And the Grammy goes to…”

You look over at him, still dumbfounded, and then you hear them call a song that isn’t his.

Your heart sinks as you watch Yoongi blink up at the screen, his mouth pulled into a flat line. You realize belatedly you’re supposed to be clapping, but his hand is still clasped in yours. And you don’t want to pull away from him.

But then he moves first, untwining his hand from yours and bringing it up to rake through his hair with a disbelieving laugh. A little delayed, you both join in the applause as the winner makes their way to the stage. You can’t even process who it is.

You have no idea what to say to console him, so you don’t say anything at all.

Thankfully the category is one of the last of the night, so you only have to sit through a few more rounds of acceptance speeches and watching other people’s dreams come true before you can finally get to your feet. You feel like you can’t leave fast enough as you’re herded out of the stadium and into another car to depart for the afterparty.

There’s a heavy silence in the backseat that feels like a chasm between you as you crawl through Los Angeles traffic.

You realize there’s a bottle of champagne tucked into an ice bucket behind the front seat— a thoughtful touch from the label execs, you assume. Yoongi spots it at the same time you do, and he immediately reaches for it. With a grunt of effort, he pops the cork, a little bit of excess foam dribbling onto the floor of the car.

He raises his eyebrows at you, then brings the bottle right to his mouth for a long drink. Longer than long. You watch his adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallows several times.

“Alright, chill the fuck out,” you snap after a few seconds, reaching over to grab it from him. “At least eat something first.”

“It’s my consolation prize,” Yoongi quips, but he lets you wrest the champagne from his hands without resisting. You take a thorough swig yourself, then recork the bottle and drop it back in the bucket. “Such a good little admin,” he purrs, and you try to convince yourself there isn’t a hint of venom in his words.

The car pulls to a stop at the designated hotel, and you climb out after Yoongi. Upon making it inside, the two of you peel off in different directions: him for the bar, and you to find anything that remotely resembles food. You keep glancing over at him from across the room as it fills with more and more people, nervous to take your eyes off him for too long, unsure of what he might do. Every time you find him again, it seems like he’s downing another glass of whiskey, drinking like the fucking world is ending.

Meanwhile, you’re struggling to find anything that isn’t kale, quinoa, or… whatever grain-free bread is. With a frustrated sigh, you finally decide to give up. If Yoongi wants to drink on an empty stomach until he gets alcohol poisoning, you figure that’s his fucking problem.

When you shove your way through the crowd back toward him, you find that he’s been pulled into a conversation with a bunch of older men you can only assume to be local industry reps. As you get close enough to make out their words, you quickly understand why he has such a sour look on his face.

“Song of the Year, huh? You know we can cross-reference the nominees and figure out if you’re full of shit, right?”

Yoongi grimaces politely into his drink as he throws it back, but you have no problem cutting in. “You’re actually speaking to an incredibly accomplished producer and songwriter,” you retort without thinking. “He has over 100 KOMCA credits.” You don’t miss the smirk Yoongi tries to conceal behind the rim of his glass.

“KOMCA?” Another one of them speaks up, the question paired with a harsh laugh. “Never heard of it. That anything like payola?”

“Wild that anyone can just buy their way into the industry these days.” The first man shakes his head, eyes scanning Yoongi up and down as if the tailoring of his suit tells him everything he needs to know. “Guess that’s the way the world works now. Never had to struggle a day in your life, huh?”

Your response is immediate and far too loud. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A loud laugh ripples through all of the men, clearly more excited about evoking a reaction than the gravity of their claims. “Wow, man,” the one who spoke first chortles, clapping Yoongi hard on the shoulder. “Looks like you need to control your girl.”

Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch Yoongi shrug off the guy’s hand to set his empty glass down on the closest table. He moves slowly, deliberately taking a long pause before correcting them. “This is actually my assistant.” His voice is laced with a deadly calm you know well.

“Assistant?” A third pipes up, acting as if he’s never heard the word before. “Huh. You know, back in my day we just called them secretaries. Or mistresses.”

Yoongi moves so fast you barely have time to process it, lunging forward and shoving the guy in the chest with enough force that he stumbles backwards into his shitty friends. “What the fuck!” one of them shouts, purposefully loud, and you can hear a ripple of shock roll through the crowd, can see heads turning to look your way in alarm.

“No, no, nope,” you immediately mutter. “This is not fucking happening.”

Yoongi is already taking another step toward the group, and you tighten a hand hard around his bicep. “We’re leaving.”

When he whips around to face you, the mixture of anger and pain reflected in his dark eyes is so overwhelming, it hits you like a truck. You try to force yourself to stay calm, because at least one of you has to be.

“Come on, Yoongi,” you say, letting your voice soften. “Fuck this place. I need some real food.” Your eyes search his, pleading. For a moment, you can’t help but wonder if you’re staring down an enemy or a friend.

But then you see the fight go out of him as he nods, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief.

Shifting the hand on his arm to press firmly to the center of his back, you guide him in front of you and wind through the packed room of people until you make your way outside again.

Fate does you one good turn by leaving an empty cab out front, and you push Yoongi into the backseat, then slide in next to him. You lean forward to greet the driver, doing your best to smile politely and act composed, like you didn’t just almost get into a fight at the Grammys afterparty.

“Can you take us to Koreatown, please?”

~*~

The cab drops you off outside a strip of bars and restaurants, lit up with neon signs in both English and Korean. To his credit, Yoongi seems more subdued as he follows you out of the car wordlessly, but you allow him a little more time to cool off in silence. You wander somewhat aimlessly, attempting to shake off your lingering anxiety in the warm evening air, until you stumble upon a food truck parked at the end of the block. Your eyes go wide at the posted signage.

“What do you think?” you ask as you turn to Yoongi, and he shrugs, like he really doesn’t care. Perfect. You’ve never had a problem a gamja hot dog couldn’t fix.

Securing one for each of you, you nod Yoongi toward a small group of tables set up at the curb to sit down. Once seated, you immediately drown your hot dog in ketchup and mustard, and you can hear him scoff before taking the bottles from you to do the same. Admittedly, you must look fairly ridiculous eating fried street food in full black tie, but you’re far too hungry to give a fuck right now.

It’s perfection from the first bite, crispy and hot, the batter studded with potato pieces and the inside loaded with cheese.

You’re also too hungry to bother making conversation at first, but after a few more bites you glance over at Yoongi, and your heart sinks all over again. You really do feel bad, and then the words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur with your mouth full. “That you didn’t win.”

He makes a face as he chews. “We already agreed I wouldn’t have been happy even if I won, right? So it doesn’t really matter.”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced. “It’s okay to have feelings, you know. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Yoongi just shrugs, but he can’t quite meet your gaze. “It’s whatever.” You take another bite as he continues. “If I’m gonna win a Grammy, I want it to be for something that’s all mine anyway.”

The sentence surprises you, and you blink back at him. “You’re going to release your own stuff?”

As if he instantly regrets bringing it up, his face reddens a little, his expression twisting into an unsure grimace. “Ahh… I don’t know, probably not. People know me as a producer. I don’t know that anyone would actually listen to it.”

“I would,” you say without even really thinking, and his eyes widen. “You know,” you continue quickly, adopting a fake-serious tone. “Since I work in the music industry. Strictly business.”

A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth, and you find yourself relieved to see it. “I appreciate that.”

You’re also desperately curious, wondering if he’ll say more about his own music, but he goes quiet again. Given the night he’s had, you don’t exactly want to push it.

Taking the final bite of your hot dog and mourning the loss, you stack your skewer and paper tray on top of Yoongi’s, then get to your feet to toss them in the nearest trash can. When you return to the table, you smack your palms decisively against it.

“Come on. I think the circumstances call for some binge drinking.”

Your first stop is tucked into two seats at a neighboring dive bar, alive and roaring with enough ambient conversation that you have to speak fairly loudly to be heard over the noise. The bar in the center of the room is wrapped around a small open kitchen, where you watch the line cooks hustle to steam, grill, and fry what seems like a never-ending rush of food orders.

You and Yoongi stick to soju, pouring each other shot after shot. On the first one, he tilts his full glass toward you, and you knock yours against it.

“To losing,” he toasts, and you can’t help laughing as you tip your head back to drink. He’s smirking as he swallows his down, then pours you another. “Hey, maybe Jungkook will throw me a commiseration party when we get back.”

You grimace automatically at the name as you take the bottle from him to fill his glass up, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. “Trouble in paradise?”

With a roll of your eyes, you determine that you need to be drunker for this. You take your shot, then instantly hold your glass out for Yoongi to pour another before he even gets to his. He obliges, and you throw it back immediately. The bottom of your glass hits the bar with a loud thud.

“I kinda… freaked out on him. Right before we left.”

Yoongi’s eyebrow lifts, questioning, as he drinks. “Any reason?” he prompts when he’s finished.

“Yes,” you answer stubbornly, tapping at the rim of your empty glass. He fills you up again, and you return the favor to finish the bottle. Yoongi motions to the bartender for another as you down your shot and steel yourself.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he offers.

“Don’t you want to hear that you were right?”

He shrugs like he can’t argue. “I mean, always.”

“Well for one, he asked if anything was going on between you and me.” You glance over to see Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly as he drinks. “I said no.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then he was like, ‘Good, I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.’”

Yoongi is clearly trying to keep his expression neutral, but it’s a losing battle. You can see the way his shoulders are starting to shake, and then he finally caves in, his palm smacking flat against the bar as he really laughs. “Wow,” he eventually recovers enough to huff, and you reach for the fresh soju bottle that’s been dropped off. “He really just said it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you intone, filling his glass and then handing the bottle back. Yoongi’s still chuckling a little as he pours your drink before taking his own, and you continue. “And then, I don’t know, there was some other stuff, and I was just like… oh fuck.”

“Because you realized he’s in love with you.”

You sigh dejectedly into your soju. “I’m so stupid.”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your glass once you’ve emptied it again. “You wanted to avoid an inconvenient truth. Just makes you human.”

There’s a pause as you take the bottle to pour his drink, and then his next words nearly make you choke as you throw back yours. “You should date Jungkook.”

You’re sure you must look entirely dumbfounded as you stare at him. “What?”

“What?” he retorts, like he hasn’t said anything shocking. “He’d be good for you.”

For a long moment, neither of you speak as you regard him. You finally shake your head, nudging your empty glass toward him until he gets the memo. “Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter under your breath, and you’re not sure if he hears it over the din of the bar.

“Besides,” you continue as you snatch the soju out of his hands to pour his drink, “I’ve tried dating a coworker before. It’s a bad idea.”

“Sounds like a good story.”

“It’s not, really,” you murmur, staring down at the liquid in your glass. “My last job I was a waitress.”

“Mm,” Yoongi interrupts with a hum as he takes his shot. “Waitress. I was close.”

You pour him another, mostly to keep him quiet. “Yeah yeah, you’re very fucking perceptive. Anyway, I dated another server for a couple years. He ended up cheating on me with one of the hostesses, but I was honestly kinda tired of him, so I was glad to end it.” You hear Yoongi snort a little at your fairly heartless admission. “But then I walked in on them fucking in the walk-in, and it put me in a bad mood. Long story short, I ended up throwing a drink on a customer and they had to let me go.”

“Christ,” he laughs, pausing for a moment to fully take in your words. “And now you’re a pain in my ass.”

You roll your eyes as you motion for another soju bottle. “Correct.”

“Sounds like your ex was an idiot.” You glance over to find Yoongi already looking at you. “I mean, in the walk-in is just… nasty.”

“That’s what I said!” Your mouth pulls up at the corners as you try to suppress a giggle. “I don’t think we can really judge anybody though.”

Yoongi blinks, staring blankly into the middle distance. “That conference room trash can condom still haunts me.”

With a loud laugh, you bury your face in your hands, and you can feel your cheeks burning from alcohol and embarrassment. You peer between your fingers as Yoongi sets down a fresh shot for you, and you gladly take it.

“People are stupid,” he remarks wisely. “That’s why I don’t date.” You quirk an eyebrow as he passes you the bottle.

“What, a prize like you?” you deadpan. “You just fuck people in bar bathrooms like a well-adjusted human?”

“Yeah,” he admits with a shrug. “So. Wanna check this one out?”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, and you immediately smack him on the arm. He nearly spills his drink from laughter, and you can’t keep yourself from laughing a little, too. “I already gave it to you this morning, you freak.”

“Come on,” Yoongi’s voice is teasing, and he bumps his shoulder against yours when he leans in closer. “I had a hard night.”

Pouring him another drink is your only distraction, and you do it with the utmost focus. “This dress is a rental.”

“I can pay for it.” The heat of his breath ghosts over your collarbone as he answers. You shove the bottle hard into his chest, and he takes the cue to fill your glass again, still smirking as he pulls away.

“First,” you say, sounding more confident than you feel, especially with the way your pulse has started to quicken. Your expression is deadly serious as you turn to stare into Yoongi’s eyes and he stares right back. “You have to prove that you can keep up.”

When you swallow your shot easily to punctuate the dare, a look flashes over Yoongi’s face like he’s impressed, and then he follows your lead.

After a few more bottles, the bar is so crowded and so loud that you can hardly hear yourselves think, and you stumble out of it and into the next place you see, and then the next, and then the next. All bets are off tonight, and you’re not about to tell Yoongi that he can’t get fucking trashed considering he just lost at the fucking Grammys. You figure you’ll be able to sleep off your hangovers on the stupidly long flight home tomorrow.

With each stop, Yoongi’s mood seems to improve a little. He eventually drinks enough that his suit jacket and tie come off, and they end up draped over your shoulders, despite your loud protests that you don’t need any more responsibilities. With the sleeves of his white button-down pushed up, it gets increasingly hard to divert your attention away from his hands and the muscles in his forearms, especially as you get progressively drunker and drunker.

Yoongi’s palm brushes over the small of your back as you make your way out of the last place, his touch warm even through the velvet of your dress.

“I know it was your personal nightmare,” he murmurs, words slurring together slightly, “but I really am glad you came on this trip. I mean it,” he insists when you shoot him a look. “I would be fucking insufferable if I was alone tonight. And I definitely would’ve punched that label guy in the face.”

You exhale a laugh and nearly fall over in your heels, and Yoongi’s hand slips to your waist to keep you upright. “He deserved it.” You lean into him, not entirely for balance, and you can feel it when he shrugs.

“Sorry you didn’t get to meet Kendrick.”

The glow of the various open-late establishments and the glitter of the pavement under your feet are all beautiful, especially in your current state, and the night air is still and warm. As you approach the next building and are met with the dull thud of music, your eyes go wide.

“Oh, I just figured out how you can make it up to me.”

The noraebang is surprisingly busy given that it’s a Sunday night, but you’re still able to book a room, and you giggle your thanks as Yoongi opens his wallet to pay the hourly rate like it’s nothing. The two of you work your way through more bottles of beer and soju, and when you start up the karaoke and teasingly pick the HEIZE song he produced, you’re surprised that he actually joins you.

Yoongi must be able to read the expression on your face, because he smirks mid-song. “Let the record show that I am actually a very fun drunk.”

And he is. You sing dramatically and loudly, not caring if you hit the notes, jumping and dancing and occasionally dropping passionately to your knees before dissolving into laughter. At first you monopolize the controller, but after you force a third Kendrick song on him Yoongi gestures for it, and you begrudgingly hand it over.

Crossing the room, you kneel down to dig through the provided box of props, immediately spotting and slipping on a cat-eared headband. You glance up at the screen, eyes widening as you realize he’s searching through Epik High songs. “Do Love Love Love!”

When you look back at him, Yoongi is squinting at you, laughing a little at your new set of ears. “What the fuck do you know about Epik High?”

“What do you mean what the fuck do I know?” you snap back. “I love them! I should be asking you that question, Mr. ‘I don’t listen to music’!”

His mouth pulls into a grin, his tongue toying at the inside of his cheek. “I have a few exceptions, alright?”

Still knelt down, you flop sideways onto the floor when he selects Born Hater. “Ugh, I’m too drunk to say that many words.”

“I got this,” Yoongi reassures you, flipping his microphone coolly with one hand as he gets to his feet. You can’t help giggling dumbly from your spot on the ground as you drunkenly prop your feet on the booth and reach up to pull your high heels off.

If there’s one thing tonight has taught you, it’s that Yoongi has a really good voice, even raw and live and drunk as hell. You don’t know why it surprises you, but it does. To you, performing seems like a different world from writing and producing tracks, but he does it just as effortlessly, with no trace of the anxiety you’ve seen grip him in a crowded room. The passion in the way he growls and gasps out lyrics, even just in the way he moves, it’s all undeniable and exhilarating to watch. He raps like he has nothing left to lose, mouth pulled into a snarl, occasionally reaching up to push his sweaty hair back off his forehead.

You can only gaze up at him, awestruck, wondering how many different versions of Min Yoongi you have left to discover until you hit the bottom.

The two of you trade the controller back and forth until every bottle on the table is empty, until the words blur on the screen, until Yoongi flops over to lay down in the booth with his head hanging off the edge, clearly exhausted. “No more,” he groans. “I’m so tired. And so drunk.”

Hovering above him, you pry the controller from his grip with a smile, slipping the cat ears onto his head for an even exchange. And then you get an idea.

“Last song!” you assure him as you type, and he groans even louder when Cat & Dog starts to play.

“God, this song is terrible,” Yoongi complains, but you’re singing too loud to care about his critiques.

With a severe amount of effort, he pulls himself to a sitting position, and you kneel down in front of him, miming cat paws with your hands and wiggling your hips. “I didn’t know you were into petplay,” he deadpans, and you stick your tongue out, determined not to let him ruin your fun.

You get to your feet and turn toward the screen as the second chorus finishes, yelling over your shoulder, “This is my favorite part!”

“Feel like Cinderella naega byeonae—”

When Yoongi’s voice suddenly reverberates from the other microphone, you almost drop yours. You whip around in complete disbelief. He’s on his feet and moving towards you as he continues the rap verse, the inarguable best part, with a renewed cocky energy. And you have to admit, he’s putting Yeonjun to shame.

“What the fuck!” you practically scream, but he just keeps going.

Seized by full-body drunk laughter, you stumble forward and nearly fall over, knocking into his chest. Though Yoongi’s reflexes are a little delayed, he still manages to right you without missing a word, one arm hooking around your waist. You swallow hard as you suddenly find yourself intimately close to the broad sweep of his collarbone, exposed between the top buttons of his shirt that came undone at some point during your debaucherous evening.

Fumbling for your microphone, you make it back to reality in time for the final chorus, only to fall entirely to pieces when Yoongi starts barking at full volume to match the outro. You can’t take it, and he’s not fast enough to keep you upright, so you drop straight down to the floor on hands and knees, laughing so hard it feels like your lungs might give out.

The microphone rolls dejectedly out of your grasp as you flop over onto your back, and you scrub your hands down your face, trying desperately to catch your breath as the song fades out.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” you mumble into your palms. You uncover your face to look up at Yoongi, only to find him laughing down at you, still wearing the fucking cat headband. “I thought you hated that song.”

He rolls his eyes despite his smile. “Yeah, well, it was also stuck in my head for like a week after you played it that one night.”

You sit up with a dramatic glare. “Oh, you mean the night you stole my fucking keys?”

A proud smirk flickers over his mouth. “You know, I am sorry about that. Or at least sorry I couldn’t see the look on your face when you realized.” He tosses his microphone onto the booth bench next to his abandoned suit jacket, then reaches down with both hands to pull you to your feet. It belatedly occurs to you that you might’ve left his tie at the last bar, but you’re too drunk to give it another thought.

“I hate you so much,” you say, though you can’t quite keep your expression serious. “Fuck, I should’ve taken a video. Could’ve used it for blackmail.”

Yoongi’s voice is lower when he speaks again, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close to you he is, the fact that his hands are still closed over yours. “Guess you’re the only one who’ll ever know.”

“Mmm,” you hum, swaying a little where you stand. His palms slip to your waist to keep you steady as you blink up at him, and your hands flatten against his chest, your fingertips tracing over the buttons of his shirt. “You look good in cat ears.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi murmurs, and then his mouth is on yours.

Your hands reach up to tangle in his long dark hair, knocking the headband to the floor, and with the amount of alcohol currently coursing through your system, you don’t have a single inhibition left in you. You kiss Yoongi like you can’t fucking breathe without him.

He pulls you as close as he can, until your bodies are flush all the way down, and you don’t ever want it to be any other way. You want it just like this, sucking and nibbling at his bottom lip until his tongue licks your mouth open and you groan into him. Just like this: his palms moving down to grab your ass unapologetically, your grip on his hair tightening, even your teeth knocking together with how drunk and desperate you are for each other. Just like this: two stupid, wildly flawed humans in black tie attire, making out in a Ktown noraebang at two in the morning on a Monday.

The sound of the door opening might as well be a gunshot for how loud it feels, and you just barely manage to jump apart as an employee pokes their head in.

“Hey, we’re closing in five.”

You don’t realize you’re not breathing until you hear the door click shut again, and your gasp for air quickly turns into an overwhelmed, embarrassed laugh. Yoongi groans drunkenly, running a hand through his hair, then sighs out a long exhale, like he’s trying to calm down.

“Come on,” you giggle, still close enough to tug playfully at one of his belt loops. “Let’s get out of here.”

Thankfully a cab is still easy to flag down even this late. The two of you manage to pour yourselves into the backseat and give the driver the name of the hotel. It’s not a terribly long drive, and you watch wide-eyed out the window as the sprawl of Los Angeles rushes by, painted in neon glow and the amber wash of streetlights.

Yoongi slumps against you, and he goes quiet for so long you think he might be asleep. When he finally shifts again, he presses his face into your shoulder with a noise of discomfort, and you’re suddenly worried he might be silent for a very different reason.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice low. “Don’t puke in the cab.”

“Stupid,” he responds, and you figure he must not be doing that bad if he can still talk.

You run your fingers through the soft, dark strands of his hair, admiring the texture, the way it’s nearly long enough now to graze his shoulders. “What’s stupid?”

“I’m—” he tries, but the car dips over a pothole, and he’s talking so quietly you lose the rest.

“You’re what?”

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the click of the turn signal.

“In love with you.”

His words stun you where you sit, and you have no idea what to do, say, think. You just keep twining your fingers through his hair, like you’re stuck on auto-pilot, distantly aware that every alarm bell in your inebriated brain is going off. It feels like way too much to try and process any of it right now. It feels like a trap.

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” you finally answer. Yoongi just stays slumped against you, and he doesn’t say another word.

The cab drops you off at the hotel, and it’s quiet between the two of you as you get him up to the room. You feel like you’re watching yourself from a distance, and it’s like your brain isn’t processing any of this as really happening, as if to keep you from thinking too hard about the big picture. From what it all could mean.

In the bathroom, you stand over the sink as you lend Yoongi your makeup remover and you both brush your teeth.

“Contacts,” you remind him through a mouthful of toothpaste when he spits out the last of his, and he nods sleepily.

“You don’t have to… administrate me all the time,” Yoongi slurs as he carefully slips one lens and then the other out of his eyes.

You spit out your own toothpaste, then sigh as you rinse the sink clean. “Well, you’re very drunk, and it’s my fault.”

“It was fun,” he says quietly, fumbling the case closed.

“It was,” you echo. “Really.”

The bathroom door is half-open on its sliding track, and you glance up in the mirror to see Yoongi hovering in the threshold, looking back at you as you wipe away stray traces of mascara from under your eyes. You think he’s going to leave, but then he steps in behind you again, and you feel his hand slide up the small of your back to ease the zipper of your dress open.

Something in your heart twists as you stare down at the marble counter, and you can already tell this isn’t meant to be flirtatious. That thought is confirmed when you finally look up, only to find yourself left entirely alone.

With a small sigh, you slide the bathroom door shut, then flip the switch to turn on the fan. The white noise still doesn’t feel like enough, so you run the shower as well, then grab a plastic water bottle from the counter to chug. You retreat into the far corner with your phone, scrolling until you find the name of the only person who can possibly help you right now.

“Hey babe,” Jimin answers on the third ring. “I’m at rehearsal so I really can’t chat. You good?”

“Yoongi said he loves me,” you answer immediately, and the reality of it hits you impossibly hard as soon as you say it out loud.

“Uh-oh.”

“But,” you lean back until your head knocks against the wall. “He’s drunk as shit. I— we are drunk as shit.”

There’s a pause, and you swear you hear Jimin laugh a little under his breath. “He really said it, huh?”

“Yes, Jimin,” you groan. “In love.”

“And?”

You grimace at the flippant response from your supposed best friend. “What do you mean and?! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Well, that depends,” Jimin starts.

“On?” you snap, impatient.

“Have you realized you’re in love with him yet? ‘Cause if I have to hear you babble on about this man for another week without piecing it together, I really might lose it.”

His words actually make your stomach churn. “Jimin!”

“I—” he sounds like he’s preparing to explain himself, but then he pauses, and his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Fuck, I’m getting yelled at. I gotta go. Call me tomorrow.”

You want to scream at him to stay, to help, that he can’t just unravel you like this and then leave you to figure it out for yourself. “Mochi, I’m on the fucking plane tomorrow—”

“I’ll come over when you get home!” Jimin interrupts. “And then you can tell me the entire story of you two finally figuring out how to be normal humans with feelings.” You scoff at his biting remark, but he’s already talking over you. “You’re smart, you got this, I love you!”

You hear him blow a dramatic kiss into the speaker, and then the line goes dead.

The world spins around you as you stare helplessly at the silent black screen of your phone, and you can’t shove it all down anymore. It’s overwhelming, all of the things that you’re feeling in this moment, so much so that you can’t even identify what you feel. It’s just a giant, tangled mess, in your brain and in your heart. The tears spill out like you’ve been holding them in for weeks, hard and fast, until you can scarcely catch your breath. You scrub at the first few that roll down your cheeks, but they continue relentlessly, and you eventually give up and just let it all pour out.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, crying on the bathroom floor. You can’t even really explain why you’re crying, except that everything inside of you feels like too much to handle.

There’s a dull ache in your head by the time you finally manage to cry yourself dry, and then you peel yourself off the floor to slip out of your dress and shut off the shower. You pull on the tank top and sleep shorts you’d grabbed earlier from the bedroom, trying to avoid your swollen face in the mirror as you turn the lights out and shut the door behind you.

Yoongi has left the lamp on your bedside on, and you immediately flip it off to plunge the room into darkness, not wanting him to see you like this. He stirs slightly when you slip under the covers, and you can feel the mattress shift as he turns over.

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arm slides over your stomach to pull your body flush to his, and his lips brush at the join of your neck and shoulder. As confusing as it should be, there’s something about the weight of him pressed into you that relaxes you, even through your current haze of emotion. You allow yourself to sink back against him, to breathe deeper, though your inhales are still a little shaky.

Yoongi’s rough voice in your ear pulls you up from the edge of sleep. “Did I fuck everything up?”

You sniff softly, and your own reply is barely more than a whisper. “No, Yoongi, it’s okay. Let’s just sleep."

As you hear him settle in beside you again, you make a promise that you’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow. You’ll figure out how you really feel, and how he does, and what you want, and what the hell you’re supposed to do about it all. But tonight, you just want this: to lay here with Yoongi and pretend your entire world isn’t about to change when you wake up.

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

A/N: oh hiiiiii, super secret bonus author's note down here!!! just wanted to share that, now that we're officially through the grammys, that means we are down to just two more chapters left in the series!!! i held off confirming the full length of LDOMLT until we got to this point (and honestly i could've easily split this into two chapters but i am NICE and i did not give you the WORST CLIFFHANGER OF ALL TIME LMAO) - but now i'm sure. chapter 11 will be the final one. gonna do my best to get 10 and 11 up before end of year, or by very early 2023 at the latest!!! and thank u, as always, for reading 💜💜💜

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #look down on me like that

1K notes · View notes

morallyinept · 6 months

Text

Hey, D. How are you doing buddy?

I see. Feeling a bit down in the dumps, huh?

Well, I've got just the thing for you, handsome...

No... it's not that, D. 🙄

No, this week we're going to have a look at how you can show yourself some self-compassion. Something that is better than, uh... that.

What? Showing yourself some self-compassion is a great thing to do. Well, yes, so is that... okay.

Yes. You've made your point. Okay fine. Jeez... Take your pants off... 🥲

Hold tight, it's Self-Care With Dieter & Jett time!

So, D, have you ever lost your temper at… yourself?

Blamed and then beat yourself up a little inside for doing something you regret, even if in the grand scheme of things, it was something relatively small?

And how did you cope with that afterwards, D?

Hmm. Probably wasn't the wisest idea, was it?

Nah. Didn't think so. Clean up this time, okay? 🤨

It’s easy to be tough on yourself when things go wrong or you feel stressed - and spend hours kissing the bottom of the toilet, too - we tend to do it to ourselves a lot, much more than we actually realize.

But what if there's a better way? 🤔

In the heat of the moment, or during a crisis, no matter how big or small, it's easy to self sabotage. Convince ourselves we're the problem, or even caused a problem to exist. That we're stupid, not talented, or just not worth having around.

And none of that is true, my friends.

Our inner critic has its best intentions for us – maybe it wants us to be safe, to contribute, to succeed, to belong.

Granted, the good intention is often, heavily veiled under a belittling tone. When you think back to a moment where you were especially hard on yourself, can you conjure up the message you heard? What was the tone? If you could give your inner critic a physical face, what would it look like?

When we forgive ourselves, accept our perceived flaws, and show ourselves some much needed kindness, we practice self-compassion.

Having self-compassion means being able to relate to yourself in a way that’s forgiving, accepting, and loving when situations might be fraught, worrisome or stressful.

If you ever judge or criticize yourself for no justifiable reason, you might find some of the below techniques helpful in showing yourself some kindness and self-compassion.

Treat Yourself As You’d Treat A Friend

One good place to start is by thinking about how you would treat others that you care about. Think about how you'd offer support to a friend who is feeling down or upset.

You'd comfort them, right? Offer them some assuring words, maybe even a hug?

You wouldn't kick them when they're down-

D!! That's not helpful! 🤨

No. Don't argue with me. You'll lose, bud. 😎

Whilst we can’t always take away other people's pain, we can validate it and provide support to help them get through it.

The same can be said for yourself.

Validate your feelings and accept that it's okay to feel like this. Give yourself a reassuring word or two, take a few deep breaths, and wrap your arms around yourself figuratively, and literally. A self-hug can be very healing and reassuring.

Understand Your Reactions

Think about how you would react in a situation when someone else does it. For example, your friend doesn't call when they say they will. You don't get mad, or fly off the hook, right?

Or maybe you do... Sorry, D. I just forgot. 😬

No, I didn't go out to the movies with Ezra. That was last week... Oops.

We had a great time, FYI... 😏

There could be a valid reason why they can't call. Perhaps there's an emergency, or a situation beyond their control? You won't instantly assume they're a bad person, so why are you doing that to yourself?

Ground yourself in the moment and rationalise. You are not a bad person.

Learn From Your Mistakes

When something inevitably goes wrong, we focus too much on the negative. Too much on the uh-oh factor. Meaning we always look at the negatives in a situation and how it impacts us negatively.

Making mistakes is what makes us human. Learning from them is what makes us grow. If we never made mistakes, we wouldn't have life-experience.

Try not to judge yourself too quickly.

Think about what you have learnt from the experience and what you can take away from it, rather than focusing on the negatives. Look for the positives. How can you better equip yourself so next time it happens (if it happens again) you can be prepared? What lesson have you taken away from it?

Take a deep breath and move on. It's in the past now. You can only move forward.

Get Some Perspective

When something bad happens, it always feels like the end of the world, doesn't it? That no-one could relate or possibly be going through what we're experiencing.

And to some degree, that is true. Your crisis is different from another's and affects you differently. But reminding yourself that things aren't all completely doom and gloom can help.

Personally, when I feel down, I try to remember that I'm healthy, that I have friends, I am creative, I have a roof over my head, etc... making a list of all the positives things - even if it's a mental list, and even if they are small things - in your life, can help you regain some perspective away from the negative and help to ground you again.

Reach Out To Others

A problem shared, is a problem halved, right, D?

Uh, D? Honestly, I cannot take you anywhere... 😒

When we talk with others, friends, family, colleagues or even someone professional if we need it, we realize that we’re not alone in feeling pain.

That we are not the only one's gong through it and this can help us gain perspective.

You are not alone.

It’s an important part of reaffirming our sense of being connected, reframing the ‘bigger picture’, and building a social support network that is invaluable to our wellbeing and growth.

Reach out when things go wrong and ask for advice. Ask for feedback too.

Perhaps someone else's perspective of the situation might convince you, and offer validation, that actually, you handled it pretty well and shouldn't be so hard on yourself.

Ditch The Guilt

Self-care is just as important as caring for others. Some would even argue it's more important.

Think about this; how can you expect to give adequate care to someone else, if you don't care for yourself first?

I know, thought provoking, isn't it, D? 💡

Research shows that people who practice self-compassion are found to be more caring, more affectionate and considerate according to their partners, resulting in more romantic relationships; have more acceptance of their own partner's imperfections, and are more likely to compromise when there is conflict.

So you can see why showing yourself some kindness and self-compassion can spread positively into your personal relationships in your life too.

Self-compassion has also been found as key in the fight for injustices, such as equality; including sexual, racial and disability. This is because self-compassion strengthens our personal accountability, and in turn we're more receptive to showing compassion to others.

Self compassion allows us to be more emotionally resilient in times of success and adversity. It helps us assess situations more objectively and supports us in making sound decisions that we won't regret or worry about later.

So, when was the last time you showed yourself some self-compassion, D?

No. That, is not showing self-compassion... No I don't need a lesson.

Put that away... I-

Oh, Dieter... 🤤

Wait, where did you learn moves like that?!

Alexa. Play "We Got The Moves" by Electric Callboy... 😏

Dieter and I hope we helped enlighten you on how to show yourself some self-compassion this week. Remember, be kind to yourself, always.

Until next time, stay kind & stay creamy. 🖤

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK. 🖤

Do you. Then do Dieter.

More Dieter & Jett love here

ℹ️ Dieter and I always strive to bring you unbiased, fact-checked advice. We're not licensed therapists, so we do a lot of research to ensure we can provide helpful and informative posts. Well, I do. Dieter mostly sits around eating KitKats.

#self care with dieter and jett #dieter bravo #ezra prospect #dieter bravo the bubble #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #jett's pedro boys #you are stronger than you think #do you #then do dieter #self-compassion #be kind #positivity

64 notes · View notes

krikeymate · 6 months

Note

Wait but can you imagine if Sam had a twin brother or sister who would be as protective as her. Tara would go mad and I like it

Sam has a twin brother, Raimi.

It's funny. Before the diary, Raimi was always the troublemaker. Sam was the one looking after Tara and trying to keep the peace and be the adult in their house when their parents wouldn't. Raimi liked to have fun, to be the kids they were. Sam thought he had no sense of responsibility. All she wanted was for him to grow up.

Sam and Raimi love each other dearly, they're like two halves of a whole... but that changed when Tara came about, and Raimi's ashamed to say he was jealous. Sam looked at the baby like she was her whole world, where it used to be him. He acts out. He loves his baby sister, he just wishes Sam would pay a little more attention to him too.

Then Sam finds the diary, and everything changes.

He listens to his family scream, standing quietly in the hall. When Tara rushes out, he ushers her back into her room and sits with her as they yell. He's old enough to piece together sentences from the scattered words he can hear. Tara isn't. She crawls into his lap and for the first time, he lets her. He does his best to distract her, and him.

In the aftermath, he gets quiet. He tries to fill the void with Tara that Sam leaves behind as she withdraws into herself. He regrets that it doesn't work, wishes he had spent more time with the girl- with Sam. If he had, maybe he would know how to help them.

He becomes the man of the house, by order of his mother. He gets a job, earns as much as he can. Sam falls apart. He covers for her, when he can, but all she wants to do these days is scream at their mother and suffer.

They share the same father, the news impacts them both, yet for once, there is a divide between them that he just can't cross. He feels as betrayed as she does, he misses the man he called father, who would take him to baseball games and ruffle his hair and talk about how proud he was of him, how alike they were. Where was that man? Was it all a lie?

(It's a long time before he learns that Sam was never upset about their father leaving, but about the truth, how it gave credence to a dark corner of her mind).

Sam leaves, and Raimi steps up. Tara never wants him the way she wants her sister, he's long since accepted that. (Secretly, he thinks that he wants Sam more than her too. He hates that thought, banishes it away). But Sam leaves, and they become closer. Raimi can't be there for it all, he works long hours to provide for them as their mother drinks it all away, but he does his best.

He feels conflicted every time he wakes up on the couch to find himself covered in a blanket, shoes off and to the side, a covered meal and a drink waiting for him on the coffee table. He never wants Tara to be the little woman of the house like he was the little man. He wants Tara to be the kid he could no longer be.

Nobody really gets what they want.

He's at work when Tara is attacked. He never forgives himself.

Sam comes home, and he can't quite forgive her either. She abandoned them. He keeps his anger under check, Tara doesn't need this right now. She needs the freedom to feel what she feels.

Raimi's the one who appears in the hospital. He gets sliced by Ghostface, and, distracted by Richie yelling out, knocked out against the door. Once that's all over, he tells Sam to take Tara and to leave, that he'll follow when he's able to get out. Richie convinces him that's stupid, that's he's injured not crippled and they all should get out of this town, together.

So they leave, together. Or... don't leave.

Richie tries to convince Sam that Tara is the other Ghostface, then, when that doesn't work, tries to convince her it's Raimi. After all, Amber's always had a crush on her brother, and why wouldn't he attack Tara and try to attack Sam... Sam left him all alone to take care of the little sister he never really wanted, he feels like he's had his childhood stolen from him. Sam knew it would never be her sister, but Raimi... he is Billy Loomis' son after all...

Raimi watches as his twin stabs a man to death with a manic look in her eye. He watches his little sister shoot a girl she loves in the head.

He feels something inside him break, like he's been reduced to the odd one out yet again.

Skip forward, Sam gets anxious and paranoid, is desperate to keep Tara within her sight, within her grasp. Raimi gets frustrated with both of them, jealousy and guilt over the jealousy waging a war inside of him. Tara won't talk about how she's feeling - not that she ever did, and Sam. Sam.

Sam gets it in her head that she's going to go with Tara to college. Raimi won't let them go off together alone.

Sam doesn't get to just come back and steal his little sister, not after she threw her away.

Tara becomes suffocated, under her own trauma, under the weight of a sibling rivalry she's been involved with since the moment she was born.

#/mp #ask box #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #miscellaneous au's #this became waaayyy more about the brother than tara whoops made an oc

47 notes · View notes

musicfeedsmysoul12 · 6 months

Text

Uraraka won the poll about 'equal opportunity asshole' so here.

Uraraka Ochako is Izuku's love interest, a poor girl and someone inspired by Izuku. We know all these things... and it's pretty flat. I've tossed around the idea of her being one of those people who are convinced there are no secrets between friends, but I feel that's not a good enough 'asshole' stance.

It's kind of to easy to make her an asshole reguarding her relationship with Izuku. (I did include a scenario under the cut but it's again, to easy) So instead, let's make it about jealousy over money.

Ochako wants to be a hero for money to support her family. However she can't afford the expensive meal plans her friends follow to get into UA. She can't go to the best gyms that they do. She doesn't have the attention of heroes on her. She's just a plucky girl who made it in.

I want that to fester. I want her to mentally pick up how different her circumstances are from the others. She slowly begins being jealous over the fact Izuku has homecooked meals tailored to his Quirk. She's seething when Tenya speaks about his gym at home. She's trying not to snap at Shouto when he talks about training with his father. She nearly yells at Tsu who mentions needing to go to a different store for special food.

She begins making rude comments, snide remarks about flashing wealth. She's jealous and she hates it so much but she can't stop. it's not fair that her family is poor. It's not fair her friends have so much and she has nothing. It's not FAIR. She tries to hold it back, but slowly it poisons her. She makes muttered comments when Yaoyorozu brings up her wealth and snarks about the expensive things Izuku has.

Eventually it ruins her friendships because people are tired of it. They feel bad she can't afford what they can, but what can they do? Especially when the dorms come and Ochako is mad she doesn't have what they have. When she 'accidentally' breaks something in her jealousy because she doesn't have that, it's enough. They stop spending time with her.

She makes it out they're being classist, in the common room. They say they aren't, she's just being a bitch. It's talked out and pointed out what she's done. They don't back down. They're done with feeling guilty she's poor and they aren't.

Basically, with this I think drawing attention to the idea Uraraka is poor would be fun, but we get the idea she is jealous of the wealth others have. Speaking as someone who had friends as a kid in wildly different economic classes, it's pretty easy to get jealous and let it fester. Uraraka just has a bad reaction to it.

I've tossed out the idea of Ochako being convinced she has an understanding with Izuku they would date. And I want to ponder that more. Because I can imagine Ochako talking with Izuku, and going: oh I don't want to date now, I want to focus on school, and Izuku (who had been about to confess, having his heartbroken) agreeing.

Ochako then ends up thinking that they will date later, after school. That they were on the same page. I imagine her telling Tsu this, and it spreading to the other girls in class. Meanwhile Izuku is getting over his heartbreak, talking with Tenya and Shouto about this. They feel for him, and help him move on.

The 'asshole' part comes in when Izuku starts dating someone and Ocahko finds out. She is furious and goes to Izuku, calling him a cheater and all sorts of things. The other girls are horrified to, and they begin to argue with Izuku. It divides the class with Ochako being the 'victim' and Izuku the 'cheater'.

Eventually it comes to a head when Izuku, finally fed up, tells Ochako they were never dating, she rejected him. She denies this, and it comes out that Izuku took her 'not dating right now' as a polite rejection. Ochako is upset saying 'he should have known what she meant' but well... people are kind of now going: wait he didn't say that you guys were dating? What?

Ochako doubles down, refusing to admit fault because she had been clear thanks. But she wasn't. The class apologizes to Izuku and people move on, while Ochako just can't admit she's wrong.

#bnha #bnha au #equal opportunity asshole

45 notes · View notes

modelbus · 11 months

Note

Ayup! I saw that your requests are open so I was wondering...if you have time, could you possibly write something about CC!platonic!Wilbur x GN!aromantic!teen!reader and they have a cute sibling relationship? Maybe after reader comes out to the public, they get hate for "ruining" romantic ships that fans created with reader and someone else (can't think of any specific person so it could be reader's best friend they've had on stream a couple times) and Wilbur stands up for them?? As an aromantic who craves and adores this type of content, it kinda bums me out that I can't seem to find it anywhere. (sorry if this is too long or too specific, i just really like the way you write). Could be headcannons or a oneshot, whichever is comfy and easiest for you. Whether you'd like to ignore or write, it's up to you, feel free to do with this what you will. Have an amazing day/night! :]

Happy Pride month!! Here's some headcannon things! I used "Alex" as the best friend's name because it's pretty androgynous and can be used for any gender.

I've been crazy busy recently, and so caught up with other things, but hopefully this offers you the content you wanted <3

Pairing: CC!Wilbur x Gn!Aro!Reader (Platonic)

Abashed Aromantic

Wilbur is absolutely pissed when he sees the sheer amount of hate you're getting on Twitter.

He wants to make a statement right then, but you convince him it's fine and that the love you're getting from the community greatly outweighs the hate.

It takes a lot of convincing to get him to stand down though, he's just so upset that people would dare be mad at you for who you are.

"Are you sure you don't want me to say anything? You know I'd gladly tear into them. It's not right-"

"I know, Wilbur. I'm sure." You say softly.

Wilbur nods, then pauses and starts again, unable to help himself it seems.

"They're all full of shit anyways-"

No matter how much hate you get, you keep telling him it's okay, so he respects your boundaries and doesn't say anything.

Even as your dm's flood with threats and messages about how you're ruining "ships" for your fandom, you stay quiet, hoping it'll just go away.

That is, until the hate goes too far, to the point where not even your Moderators can manage all the hateful messages on streams. Some slip by, and, of course, those are the ones you manage to read.

It's meant to be a peaceful "just chatting" stream when the donation comes through, somehow making it past all of your mods.

The stream donation sound sounds out over your headphones, and you perk up, waiting for text-to-speech to read the message aloud.

"I can't believe you're ruining all of our ships by being aromantic. You really would've been perfect with Alex. Fuck you." The robotic voice reads out. For a voice that's usually so comforting, ice-cold hurt races through your veins at the message.

It's just too much. You were trying so hard to ignore all the hate, ignore how the ship name for you and your best friend trended for days after you came out, but you can't anymore. And all because of something you couldn't even control.

Silence falls in the stream. That is, until Wilbur speaks up. You had almost forgotten he was in a call with you, so swept away in the donation.

"Who said that? Who was that?" He asks. Wilbur didn't get truly mad often, but in this moment you're glad you're not the one he's pissed at. "To that person and anyone else who thinks that message is okay, fuck you. That's not okay."

"Wil-"

"No. It's not okay." You snap your mouth shut, realizing that there's no stopping Wilbur. Even though you tried to stop him, a part of you can't help but rejoice at him speaking up for you, protecting you. "You aren't ruining anything by being yourself. Hear that, chat? Get that through your heads."

You scan chat, waiting anxiously to see their reactions. For the first time since you came out, it's overwhelmingly positive. True relief comes rushing through you, like a breath of fresh air.

"Now. Where were we?" Wilbur asks, nudging you along. "We were talking about bees, right?"

Later, you thank him, but Wilbur won't even let you thank him. He just keeps saying that it was "his job to protect you" and to "fuck the haters."

He makes sure to post a Tweet about it too, once you give him the okay to.

...and he makes an Instagram post with just photos of you two. Just to make it very clear.

In order to make sure you're entirely okay, he insists on having a movie night and binge-watching all of the Marvel movies in order. Popcorn, snacks, blankets, and all.

(Wilbur is upset at himself for a while after because he felt like he should've done something sooner, but eventually he's just glad to have put an end to the overwhelming hateful messages you were getting.)

And, of course, he makes sure to not let anyone give you shit after that. Even the slightest hint of hate towards you has him loudly proclaiming how amazing you are.

"You're aromantic, right?"

You pause at the question from the other streamer before answering carefully. It's your first time talking to them, and it's in a MCC no less. "Yeah."

"Oh. That's... interesting."

Maybe it's the tone of their voice, but something about the statement rubs you the wrong way. You shake your head, planning to move on, but Wilbur jumps into the conversation.

"Damn right it's interesting. And only in the best of ways." He proclaims.

You smile to yourself, thankful for Wilbur every goddamn day.

"What's your Ace Race time again?" He asks you. "Isn't it ridiculously fast? You're just so good at MCC, you'll have to carry this team. You'll get us the points there for sure, probably single-handedly get us to victory-"

#mcyt imagine #mcyt #dsmp #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x you #wilbur imagine #wilbur x reader #wilbur #wilbur x you #aromantic reader

84 notes · View notes

stevie-petey · 3 months

Note

hello i wanted to say this earlier when you were talking about the wiritng of duffer brothers and specifically how they will likely be bringing back the love triangle again and i just wanted to add how it feels like a step back for all three of them! i felt like nancy breaking up with steve was important for both of them, for steve to realise that he needs to do some serious introspection and let go of the life that he knows is fake, and for nancy it feels doubly important to not attempt to stick with something just because it was there in the past, and instead allow herself to move on from a stage she feels complete with and move onto what she really wants (johnathan), even if it's unconventional! and then for johnathan it felt like the more classic, someone is choosing me when i am not usually chosen moment. i honestly, truly, wouldn't even be that mad if they break jancy up, just because, y'know they're like 19-20, and it's okay for nancy to decide she wants to explore things outside of hawkins and it's pretty normal for most people, and would strengthen that "moving on" theme they were able to capture in s2, but if she goes back to steve.............hmmmm. feels unfair thematically for steve to go back to a person he dated during a specific period of his life he wants to get away from, feels unsatisfying for nancy wheeler to be delegated to Love Interest TM (as u mentioned) AGAIN, and feels bad for johnathan because omg why??!!?!? would u do that to a character whose already lost a lot of the importance and relevance that he used to have???? remember when he used to be the main character (not to mention they literally cut out his new friend argyle for the hell of it). idk i feel like after s2 they just stopped caring about a lot of these core characters and there are so many moments i could point to and be like hey guys nice regressing you did there.

my apologies, this is getting really wrong, but you mentioned that you like themes and i LOVE your themes it's very cathartic. i am excited for s3 to see character themes continue because i understand ur working with the show itself here but it immediately upset me when they made, like, russian soldiers, the main villain of the season. i felt like we had developed two very good seasons exploring the US's ability to use its citizen's bodies, especially women and girls' bodies, in its war for imperial power, and were doing some good digging at the crux of the cold war, with the upside down and its monsters making up great metaphors for the war crimes and unnatural horrors it's willing to unleash onto people as long as the government and military benefits, with brenner and the scientists and the labs all representing this part of the government. and then we get "russian communists are bad".......right......and i'm sure you believe that....... i understand that they needed like a new villain, but i think it would have been better for them to continue that thematic critique they had established already. like, the base being in the lab is perfect! wow! what an immediate link to capitalism and consumerism in reaganamics and the ways it is designed to hypnotise you to spend your money and feed the economy that thrives on unethical practices and can only exist if it has a population hooked into the addiction of product consumption that in turn provides the economics to increase the empire. DO SOMETHING WITH THAT, GODDAMIT. The mindflayer even mind controls people which fits so well into this theme but they insisted on having the russians be the human villains of the show and it blew it so bad for me :(. i don't know exactly what they should have done, but i think maybe even having a portal open to the upside down because of all the artificial-ness of the mall mixed with the constant ads trying to convince (ie control) people to bye stuff mixing with hawkins freakiness would have been more fulfilling for me. obviously i know you won't be doing anything like that but i'm excited to get some relief through character relationships from this huge problem i have with the duffer brothers.

yeaaaaah u can def tell the show was going a bit haywire once season 3 released BUT the seasons vibes were immaculate u cannot argue with that. however yeah its wack how they brought up some cool villains and powers and then just. dropped it. do we know what happened to all those flayed people ???

as for jonathans character just becoming less and less important as the seasons go on ,,,, i grieve that every day. he deserves so much better in that aspect. and nancy !!! and steve !!!! like the love triangle pisses me OFF !!!!

as for ur russian rant imma be real i followed a bit of it but my brain is so sleepy and im not a history buff but ur SO real and valid for all that. i think the russians were fun but apparently everyone hates them ??? wild. i also have poor media literacy but thats not important rn

#procrastinationprincesses #ask #m speaks #like seriously did everyone just die who were flayed #did everyone just believe the mall fire story ????#why would they all conveniently be at the mall at the same time #sigh

12 notes · View notes

td-frog · 17 days

Text

thoughts on dcas e7:

tom+jake+aiden

god this season is doing such a good job with jake. after last episode it'd make so much sense for him to just be jealous and upset, but instead he's genuinely trying to communicate. and literally saying "you always wanted me to do this, so i'm trying, please talk to me" is like. really good.

idk for sure but it does feel like tom's lying about the boyfriend. at the very least, not giving any more information (valid choice if it's true given they're on tv and that ruined his life in s1) makes it seem like he's lying, which sucks for jake because at this point he is doing everything right.

not really surprised that aiden's mad at jake about it given he and tom are friends and he and jake don't know each other, but it is a little disappointing given how clearly (to the audience) jake is Trying His Best

also i do kind of love that this very much could have been the end of it if it weren't for ellie intentionally fucking it up.

villains alliance

i fully forgot that alec didn't know about the letters. of course he didn't, he would absolutely have taken it seriously because he's the only person in the alliance trying to make it work. i do think it's funny that he and riya had a conversation about it without even checking if anyone was listening tho.

gabby finding out was inevitable, ever since the "ellie would've told me line" but i do feel bad for her. i'm worried this is going to backfire on tess tho, since she offered to talk to ellie first. their relationship is really sweet and it makes sense for the game to mess it up, but yeah :(

magenta team

prediction from last time: "if it's magenta team it's probably fiore, which makes me think it won't be magenta team." well i was half right!

i love fiore so much and i'm sad to see her go, but honestly i really really love what they're doing with jake here.

like the theme of his character is Trust Issues, and in s1 that was a lot more lashing out at people over tiny slights which was not the most likable trait. but now he's learned that that's not healthy and is trying to correct it, but the core issue is still there. the fear and worry at being hurt or abandoned hasn't gone away, he's just not externalizing it as much.

like i genuinely don't think ashley is wrong for hanging out with ally, not eliminating ally, not picking up on the severity of jake's anxieties, etc. in fact i think kicking ally out would've made it worse, bc what he needs more than immediate reassurance that he's her ultimate bestie is to build up resistance to the fear of abandonment- being able to experience the worry and have it turn out okay without needing ashley to do something dramatic will help demonstrate that it doesn't have to be as big of a deal as his relationship trauma is telling him.

but also i get it. and i'm not worried about ashley turning on him, but i do think he's not going to handle it well bc he needs to be liked so bad and is not having a good time.

other thoughts

yellow team took more of a backseat this episode (besides the villains alliance thing, but that was a bit more ellie focused), but yul continues to be the world's shittiest boyfriend. grett has grown so so much since s1 and it's gonna hurt so bad when this gets exposed i know it :(

#trevek confirmed ig, still kind of largely ignoring it for personal reasons.

predictions

cyan team should be high focus next episode, mainly bc of the villains thing. i think it's likely ellie will react badly to being confronted about it, and i can see it causing team tension esp with gabby. if they end up having elimination i don't really see ellie surviving at this point? mostly because tom and aiden are already biased against her and while i can see gabby sticking with her i don't think she could convince tess.

i don't think magenta will be up for elimination again, mainly because i think their current drama needs some time to marinate. ashley won't turn on jake unless he gives her a Really Good reason, and i don't see that happening in a single episode. and if they take ally out that kills the tension of jake not knowing how it'll go. so that (along with them having the smallest team) has me leaning against them.

if it's yellow, it's probably yul. riya and alec have not been subtle about their dislike, and there's no longer a non-villain option. i guess if grett hasn't figured out his act by then it could be a tie (in which case i think yulgrett would vote for riya, and yul would win the tiebreaker for narrative purposes (it not making sense for him to go home before being exposed to grett)), but it could go differently. i think it's more likely to be cyan tho.

i should note i have no idea when to expect the merge. it feels too soon right now though.

also! i don't really think tess is in danger (although as team mediator and the tiebreaker between gabellie and tomaiden, she is the obvious candidate for getting out via trickery), but i do think she might be out soon- mainly, i'm expecting ally to be the one from her trio that lasts the longest, and i'm really interested to see how she reacts to tess elimination vs hunter. i also think it'd be interesting if tess gets out before they get much of a chance to catch up, and how that would affect things. anyways not likely to be next episode but i can maybe see that coming up at some point.

also also! i will very much enjoy seeing alec's response to fiore's elimination :3c (not that there will be one, of course, because he does not care :3c)

#frog.txt #disventure camp #disventure camp spoilers

15 notes · View notes

norellenilia · 1 month

Text

Damn, I remember the first time I watched FMA 03, when I was 16 or 17, I stayed up until 1 am to finish it, and today, watching episodes 38 through 42 turned me into such an emotional mess that I have to take a break lmao what happened??? My own emotional traumas, that's what happened

I'm feeling so many things again

In episode 38, when Ed and Al are fighting, Al drenches Ed in water and he says "it's going to rain!!!" and I'm like haha no don't try to pull a Mustang on me I know this episode won't make me cry and GUESS WHAT the flashback with Trisha convincing Ed to go and find Al so they can talk things out and Al looking so happy that Ed isn't upset with him anymore it's so cute I CRIED

I need -- no, I DEMAND a spin-off series where Winry and Scziezka solve murder mysteries together (I'd love to write it myself but I know I'm not nearly good enough at coming up with mystery stories lol), they're adorable I'm so happy they totally get together post CoS

Martel's death hits SO MUCH HARDER than I remembered holy shit, she and Al actually got close, we see more of her, her death is so horrific and hearing sweet sweet baby boy Alphonse cry just BROKE MY HEART I never wanted to hug an armor so badly

Scar's brother's last moments, the way he looks so terrified and desperate to protect his little brother from Kimblee and Scar being so devastated when he dies I just-- *clenches fist*

Sloth using Ed's PTSD against him that's so UNFAIR; also I was thinking that I was a bit disappointed that this anime did not include the nightmare that Ed has at some point in the manga where he sees his mom saying "why didn't you make me right" etc but this is it, this is this scene, and it's worse because he's hearing it for real, he is very much awake, he has the real voice of his mom in his ears and she's saying this to him and I'm-- *clenches fist harder*

Rose's story, I'm still so mad, she deserves all the happiness in the world

Speaking of Rose, it's so funny how the moment Al is like "I wonder how Rose is doing" the show just full on goes "Ed/Rose shipper" mode lmao, with Ed blushing while pretending not to remember her, him being so awkward when he speaks to her just before they go on their separate ways and her son just smiling and giggling when he speaks (first time we see the baby laugh, he had only been crying up until then) :') To be honest it feels a bit out of the blue to me but idk

Dante sporting Lyra's white ass in the town of brown people and speaking as if she was part of them just because she's following Rose around to manipulate her is incredibly cringe, but then again, it's Dante, she's the villain and we're already supposed to know something is up with "Lyra". But still.

Very random but Al pulling objects from or putting objects inside his armor from behind the cloth always looks very awkward lol

I used to never really care about Scar but I have learned the errors of my way as I now realize he is actually one of the best characters in this goddamn series, even with the orb of knowledge and the three arm losses, and Mangahood!Scar being much more villainized and ending up working with the military will never come even CLOSE to 03!Scar using his last bit of strength to save Alphonse to honor his love for his lost brother and take his ultimate revenge on those who murdered his people in the goal of protecting oppressed people, all of this while an epic music is playing (honestly it even feels like Ed is made to be seen as an obstacle as he tries to prevent the soldiers from entering Liore lol)

Sorry but Wrath is annoying as hell, I know that I'll probably have a different opinion if I rewatch CoS after that, but for now I hate him

We're finally entering the "Rewrite" era of the show and I had forgotten how much it rocks (Ed's hair animation at the beginning fhjkfhkdhjk)

I only have 9 episodes left but between Lust and Sloth in the upcoming episodes I'm not even sure I'll be able to watch it all in one go lol. Still excited to see more of Winry and Scziezka and remembering how much Hohenheim is absolutely useless in this x)

#fma #fma03 #fma 03 #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist 2003 #nore rewatches fma #it's so funny I thought I already knew I loved this series #I even feared that rewatching it would actually disappoint me #but actually I think I love it even more now #at the ripe age of 34 I'm happy to see I still enjoy and relate to it a lot #I even learn to love characters I had never really cared about before #like Rose and Scar #and as an equivalent exchange now I despise Izumi lol #but hey people grow and learn and change #that's literally one of the themes of the series so it fits

10 notes · View notes

blackjackkent · 2 months

Text

OK, Raphael boss fight report!

Opening state of play: six cambions plus the big man himself and Korilla. We have Yurgir on our side which side which is definitely a big plus cos this would suck a lot more if he was against us. (I'm mad that we don't have the option to convince Korrilla to team up with us too; in spite of everything, I still find her oddly appealing and would have enjoyed being able to turn her back to the path of right. But you can't have everything.)

On that note, the fight opens in tremendously dramatic fashion:

...That was fast. I didn't realize she was so squishy. RIP Korrilla; she died as she lived, not really contributing much but providing interest just by happening to be in the room.

The cambions are much beefier (96 hit points apiece). So Raphael, who is also a cambion, probably has something similar, something like--

Holy shit.

I was hoping there was something useful in his Notable Features to indicate that some of this health could be easily sliced off (like with Gerringothe), but there doesn't seem to be. He does, however, have some other exciting features, such as:

and

Sheesh.

This seems to indicate that the pillars around the room that we saw when we came in are probably our actual first targets. They all have a hundred hit points as well which is kind of wild.

Raphael's first turn is also pretty dramatic. Apparently he can "Consume Souls" from the pillars, which restores a usage of "Punish Divinity," an ability which gives him an autostun on anyone who uses radiant damage against him.

This is not the worst thing in the world for us, as Hector and his friends prefer to deliver the light of Selune via hitting things very hard, but it's kind of a good thing we don't bring Shadowheart anywhere anymore I guess.

Starting to rethink my original strategy. The soul pillars are the actual targets but the smaller cambions need to get shut down first or we're all going to get melted into paste before even one of the pillars goes down.

Luckily Hector and Co are powerful enough at this point that going through the cambions isn't super difficult even though they're pretty beefy.

(UPDATE: RAPHAEL ALSO SUMMONS DEBTORS WHO EXPLODE INTO THREE IMPS WHEN THEY DIE. THIS SUCKS.)

With the cambions dead we start working on the pillars and are able to knock one out at which point this happens:

Goodie.

Hector at this point kills an entire pillar by himself because he's unstoppable.

Shoutout to Hope's Mass Cure Wounds and Mass Healing Word spells which are doing a LOT of work as we all wander in and out of the fire like marshmallows on sticks.

Minsc finishes off the third pillar and I'm really hoping, at this point, that getting rid of all of them chunks Raphael's health for some unknown reason.

A surprisingly unexciting round from Raphael, who just claws at Hector a bit, and then Hector finishes off the fourth pillar, annnnnd...

Nothing in particular happens. Raphael still has 666 health, so we've got to knock him down the old fashioned way I guess.

I summon Owlbear Jaheira!

Beautiful.

At this point things get... exciting.

Holy shit.

So the bad news is that Raphael is now HUGE, shoots that terrifying hellfire surface everywhere, and just obliterated Jaheira.

The good news is, uh...

Hm, gimme a minute, I'll think of something.

The hellfire floor is very scary and very painful but given the nature of our party, the only real viable approach is just to roll on in for melee and chug health potions on the bonus action. (Jaheira is going to straight up die again in the fire which is upsetting. :( Maybe fodder for a fluff comfort drabble with Minsc later though? :thonk: )

AHA! I finally found the good news!

He's not immune to Prone.

Hector is such a battering ram. I love him.

And finally, with one last smash from Karlach--

VICTORY! \o/

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #whew what a fight XD #(also stepped away for a bit which made it take longer)

7 notes · View notes

go-to-the-mirror · 1 year

Text

Un-Follow Me Now, This Is Gonna Be The Only Thing I Talk About For The Next Day. I've Been Wanting This For Months Fuck. What The Fuck. /ref

@a-mag-a-day

So, uhm, MAG 136 everybody! As you can probably tell I've been looking forward to this episode, not as much as some others, (cough cough) cul-de-sac (cough cough), but a fair amount of excitement going into this. So, without further ado, let's get on with it! Mostly rambling, but I have great words a lot of the time.

For content warnings, mostly what's in the episode and some pretty frank discussions of suicide and depression. If I need to add or tag anything please let me know.

If I get another gambling ad, I'm going to break something :). Sorry, I keep getting this gambling advert and it's just. Nope, no, 0/10. I had hope it would only be on RQG.

ARCHIVIST (Compelling) If you don’t mind me asking, where are you off to? MELANIE Therapy. Wait … ARCHIVIST Oh, God, Melanie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to … MELANIE It’s fine. I would probably have told you eventually anyway. ARCHIVIST Even so, I shouldn’t— MELANIE Just forget it

I'm glad that although Melanie's obviously -- and to be honest, rightfully, yeah Jon didn't mean to make her tell him that she's going to therapy, he still did and that would make me pretty angry -- upset, she's handling it in a good way, they're not getting in a fight, they're being... amicable. Not friends -- a long way from friends.

DAISY You’re not babysitting me, alright? I know that’s what the others think sometimes, but that’s not it. I just don’t like being on my own if I can help it. You know, flashbacks, panic attacks, the usual. Just trying to avoid it if I can. ARCHIVIST I know, Daisy. I do. It’s hard. DAISY Yeah, well. Don’t let me get in your way. ARCHIVIST Of course.

jon's just grappling with the concept of friendship in the corner like, sure, he was a last resort, but he's spending time with another human and they're not obviously wishing he was dead! yay for that i guess!

also uhm i like how yk, maybe i was just watching bad shows before -- probably -- but it isn't... glossed over. they go through things and they deal with said things, mostly in bad and self destructive ways, like yes the characters suffering and then they have to deal with the suffering and it's all portrayed in a -- in my opinion -- pretty true to life way. People get angry when they're traumatized and under stress, people get suicidal, people do stupid things, people don't trust people -- trust the wrong people -- the works.

*holds gently* p o d c a s t

I loved Neil. I might even have been in love with him; it’s hard to say. When there are so many emotions caught up in a single person, when they’re such a significant force in your life, it gets difficult to say what’s really there at the heart of it.

I'm aro, I thought i was in love with people, I probably wasn't. Love is complicated, discerning what type it is.

Even pyrotechnics, while impressive and visually spectacular, just didn’t give me the same sharp joy as making something that could move, that came alive, directed and controlled by my hand.

Ah, right, so here's the sentence that's like "and this is what fear it is." There's a lot of those, scattered around. What comes to mind are the following lines.

Well, that’s what’s really terrifying, isn’t it? Your mind is all you are. There’s no back-up, no reset if it goes. I’m not just talking about madness as it appears, but what it is from inside. The way people talk about it, it’s like you have to think you’re sane, that our mind is everything we perceive, everything we are. Well, that means you can never know when your grasp might be slipping. I’m not convinced that’s it though. Or maybe deep down, somewhere inside, you understand what’s happening to you and I, um… I don’t know which scares me more.

(MAG 65 - Binary)

This shows that it's The Spiral.

One thing that… eats at me, as it were, and does give me that sick tightness of fear deep in my gut. It is rot. I don’t know why it gets to me so; perhaps it’s precisely because I don’t think there is anything beyond the body, and even dead and unaware, seeing a person’s form begin to putrefy and fester – becoming just a home for the crawling, feasting things – is too much for me. Perhaps it’s just an unaccountable phobia. Regardless of the reason, the fact is that to see the corpses decaying, to see their flesh corrupted, it is… the one part of this job that I find uncomfortable. So much so that I would describe reconstruction and preservation as my favourite part of the process. Making sure the cadaver looks as peaceful and lifelike as possible. Make them the person they were, or as close as they can be while cold and senseless. Fighting off the rot. The insects. The disease.

(MAG 36 - Taken Ill)

And this shows it's The Corruption.

I like it, a little introduction, so you know what you're getting into.

“Besides,” he always told me, “I’m a puppeteer at heart.”

✨ Spooky! ✨

A frugal life, lucrative career and prickly personality had left him with lots of money, but no real support; while my life had left me in a position where I cared deeply about his wellbeing and was in desperate need of money. Everything just lined up so neatly.

this was planned wasn't it, "everything just lined up so neatly," yeah no way it's a coincidence.

I must have asked him about it, but at the time it just seemed like such a natural progression.

This reminds me of some of the stuff in MAG 59 - Recluse.

I’m sure they’d have said the same things about me and at the time nothing seemed amiss. I did what I did because it was what I was supposed to do, and it never struck me to question it. I’m not sure I really recognise who I became while living at that house.

With The Web's control and things seeming fine but then you look back and it's like "yep, definitely not."

He was hanging there, wrapped in his strings like a cocoon, twisting gently around and around and around.

THAT'S AN IMAGE. oh!! OH!! oh boy!!!

She told me to take the films, his original cuts.

The way "original cuts" is said sounds a lot like some of the other tones a few statement givers take -- even Jon sometimes, immediately I can think of in the season 5 trailer. I recognise that tone.

She told me to come here. She told me to give them to you. I resisted for some time, but I’m done now. She’s won. And I would very much like to go home.

I love the way this statement ends, a lot of statements have very cool endings, this one's snazzy, the statement giver sounds so defeated.

ARCHIVIST They were … Well, let’s just say it’s not a complete shock there was something unnatural to them. Didn’t know we had copies in the Institute, though, let alone original cuts. Records indicate they ended up in Artefact Storage. DAISY Probably best they stay there. ARCHIVIST Yeah… Yes, of course.

No! Not best they stay there! Daisy and Jon movie night watching spooky films together! I think that would be fun.

DAISY She’s Web. Spider’s sneaky like that. Like that lighter you’re always using – where’d you get that? ARCHIVIST Hm, good point. We should keep our eyes open. Anyway, how’s Basira doing?

Spooky bloody lighter, god damnit, god damn that spooky lighter.

AAAA. No guys, the lighter isn't messing with his memory, he just has adhd.

DAISY Yeah, well, what do you think? You think I’m weak just cos I’m not already chasing the next kill? You think I’m less me? ARCHIVIST I … I don’t feel like I’m exactly in the best place to judge the intersection between free will and humanity. Still trying to figure that out myself.

✨ t h e m e s ✨ [themes]

I, unsurprisingly, like this. I think, that I like. The exploration of it. I think it's snazzy. It's hard to articulate my thoughts, but I am holding this gently, I am holding the many many themes of this very cool podcast gently. I am directing you to tumblr user annabelle--cane because it's got great brain thoughts.

DAISY Jon … When you went in the coffin, was it you choosing to do that? Did you actually think you could save me or was something telling you to do it? ARCHIVIST It was me. I was drawn to it, I’ll admit, but it was my decision. It wasn’t entirely about you, though. DAISY What was it? ARCHIVIST My— My memories of the coma are not clear, but I know I made a choice. I made a choice to become … something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I don’t know if I made the right decision. I’m stronger now, tougher, I can … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever, I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else, so if I can maybe stop that happening and the only danger is to me … I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Worst case scenario, the universe loses another monster. DAISY That’s messed up. ARCHIVIST (Laughs) Yeah. I suppose it is.

I've also heard it described as "if there was a truck coming towards me, I wouldn't move out the way." Maybe not actively seeking it, but definitely not... not seeking it.

Yeah, thinking you're an inherently worse person than everyone around you, is a pretty good way to get you know, suicidal.

Almost everyone you care about thinking -- and saying -- that your very existence is a wrong, that they'd rather you have died, that's going to mess you up. And I'm... I mean like, poor Jon or whatever, I love him, he's my blorbo, but like him living his worst life is compelling and written well.

I should say more, but idk, I think I've summed up Some Thoughts.

ARCHIVIST I guess I thought imprisonment wouldn’t … wouldn’t be as bad as it was. And it’s a lot easier to make that choice than it is to actually endure the result. You might have noticed, when I was in there with you, I had regrets.

fuck dude it sure is, i mean at least he's pretty bad at self-sacrifice, like he lived, didn't get stuck in a coffin forever, no bad outcomes apart from... like... the trauma. he didn't even have to have one awkward conversation. until now, but i feel like him and daisy are more on the "joking about melodramatic notes app notes written while having a breakdown" than "one person who wants to get out of the situation and another who is Concerned."

DAISY You need to stop moping. ARCHIVIST I what?

THIS IS A MOMENT WHERE THE UNNOFFICIAL TRANSCRIPTS ABSOLUTELY WIN. "picture of Edwardian offence" ahsdfsewadfssewa

I mean like yeah it's a little insensitive or whatever, but to be fair, sometimes it's just better to get out of your head, distract yourself, don't listen to sad music while you're down because otherwise you're just going to get more sad. Shout out to crying over a TMA meta while listening to Mitski and reading all my saved TMA metas. Not the exact situation, but let it be known i don't cry over fiction that much. This podcast has made me cry like... how many times at this point?

I'd share other, more specific details, but I'm not sure how much is oversharing, especially with these topics.

DAISY “Boo hoo, I’m so alone and a monster!” ARCHIVIST I am alone. Martin is—

*points* GAY

well, bi. yk.

DAISY Get over yourself. You’re always talking about choices. We all made ours. Now I’m making a choice to get some drinks in. Coming? ARCHIVIST I don’t … Yeah, ok.

ANOTHER PART WHERE THE UNNOFFICIAL TRANSCRIPTS STAY WINNING! "pause while he grapples with the concept of friendship." Like I'm using official because i noticed an error in MAG 119, but the unofficials are funny.

DAISY Melanie’s out, but I’ll go get Basira. ARCHIVIST Is she … Would she want to join us? DAISY If she doesn’t, I’ll rip her throat out. ARCHIVIST Uhhh… DAISY It’s a joke, John. ARCHIVIST (Dubious) Oh, aha. Yes. I’ll get my coat.

HIS STUPID LITTLE LAUGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

he's just like me fr oh my goddd he's a dumbass he's i want to squish him like one of those toys whose eyes pop out i want to shake him out like a cat aaaaaa

Anyway, Jon fan[redacted]ing over, uhhh more thoughts on the whole bloody... thing he's got going on.

First of all, I mean... passive suicidality sucks. And I think that's what's going on, like he jumped into that coffin, with the knowledge that he might not live, but maybe he will, and does it matter either way. He lives, gets Daisy out, he's useful, he's good. He dies or gets stuck there... well, it's just another monster gone. And of course that's not what he thinks when he's down there, but... I can't back this up with studies, but anecdotally... yeah uh, I mean, sometimes you go "oh shit, maybe doing this nonspecific thing was a bad idea, actually, and you don't want to die."

That... sudden realization of what he's done, what he's condemned himself to, the continuing... you know, he's not exactly okay in season 5, or even later on in season 4 -- what with the dark sun -- and that rings true with me. I can actually back this up with a study, according to this website, (it's reliable, it's Harvard, just search up "attempters' longterm survival" on google, it should be the first result.) 90% of people who attempt suicide don't go on to die by suicide, however 40% of those who have died from suicide (in the US) have previously attempted suicide, and 5 to 11 percent of people hospitalized for a suicide attempt go on to die via suicide, but those who haven't are only 1 in 10,000. Besides, not he's gotten help, he's just realized he made a mistake in one situation, he's talked about it to a friend, sure, but he's still mostly alone, he still mostly thinks he's a monster.

Like... that's not a great situation to be in. Someone give him some actual friends (or a boyfriend) and take all the Panado (acetaminophen) out of his reach.

#tma #the magnus archives #mag 136 #jonathan sims #tma meta #the magnus archives meta #daisy tonner #a mag a day #cw suicide #tw suicide #landscaping your mind chapter one

41 notes · View notes

teatimeallovertown · 2 years

Text

these are a few married Gallavich headcanons I have:

When they first move into their apartment Mickey bitches about the electricity bill in the summer and doesn't want to run the a/c since they've never even had a/c before but then he realizes if it's cold in the bedroom at night Ian can spoon him all summer and then he decides he likes a/c

Ian really wants to learn to cook. He buys a bunch of cookbooks and watches youtube videos but the first few things he makes aren't very good and he gets frustrated and upset and wants to give up. But Mickey knows it's important to him so he starts hanging out in the kitchen while Ian cooks and helps him chop everything and reads through the directions with him. It still takes a while for things to turn out right but Ian loves cooking with Mickey so much he keeps trying and eventually turns into a very good cook and he and Mickey prepping dinner together in the evenings turns into one of their favorite routines.

Ian goes through a bad depressive phase at one point and his doctor tells Mickey that getting a pet might help Ian out. Mickey convinces Ian he's the one who wants the dog since he knows Ian will get upset if he feels like they're only getting one because of his mental health. They go to the shelter and find a pitbull/lab mix who Mickey loves and Ian begrudgingly agrees. They name her Lady. Mickey ends up being an awesome dog trainer and teaches her to do a bunch of cool tricks. Ian is hesitant at first but slowly ends up falling in love with her. He and Lady go for runs every morning and he buys her the fanciest dog food he can find at the store. Without realizing it after a few months he's the happiest he's ever been.

On the anniversary of Terry's death Mickey gets really upset and goes out and gets shitfaced drunk. The bartender calls Ian from Mickey's phone and Ian goes and finds him. Ian brings him home and rubs his back while he throws up in the toilet and cries about his dad not loving him. Ian helps him get into pajamas and then holds him all night. In the morning Mickey tells Ian that even though he's sad about his relationship with his dad Ian is the best thing that ever happened to him and he's so glad he gets to be who he is, even though Terry didn't accept him.

Lip and Mickey end up being friends, even though they don't admit it. Mickey goes back to the Gallagher house at least once a week because even though he likes their apartment now, he still misses the South Side and needs a break. Lip's always there working on the house so they end up sharing beers and bitching about life together. Even once Lip eventually sells the house and gets a place with Tami Mickey still goes over once a week. Ian tells them they're best friends but they both say they're not they just happen to drink beer in the same place sometimes.

Once they both get off probation they take a trip to Mexico together for their anniversary. Mickey shows Ian where he lived and the beaches he would visit. Ian cries a lot at first and feels really guilty but Mickey tells him he has never been mad about it and he's proud of Ian for doing what was best for him at the time. They drink tequila together and swim in the ocean and Ian gets a really bad sunburn that Mickey teases him for but rubs aloe on him in the hotel room that night.

#gallavich #gallavich headcanons #i think about these things a lot #if i had any motivation id write fics for all these moments but I don't so if anyone wants to please tag me because I would die of happines

178 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

morningstartrans-blog

Airport Shuttle Richmond Texas

cannibalchicken

MEMES

morningstartrans-blog

Airport Shuttle Richmond Texas

musclorin

Musclorin

gundh

Gundh