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[death-rebirth-senshi]

I do remember when people were seriously saying we ought to be studying hunger games in high school lit years ago

[chateautae]

the most wonderful time of the year | kth. (m)

➵ summary :  taehyung hasn’t seen you since high school graduation, but when he finds himself in need of a date for his friend’s annual christmas party, running into you is like a godsend; especially when he once had feelings for you, and little did he know, you felt the same way all along.

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  nonidol!au, f2l, fluff, smut

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 19k

➵ warnings : mutual pining, sexual content, swearing, dom!tae, cuddling resulting in over the clothes stuff, rough fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, big dick!tae cause we know he’s packing, marking, restraint (with his own hands), choking, begging, unprotected sex (wrap it up peeps), hitting it from the back 😜, mirror (?) sex (reflection of a window), rough sex but then i love you sex, praising, slight humiliation, denied orgasm, creampie, aftercare

part of ksmutclub’s winter project 2020!, using prompt #7: “did everyone else come with a date?”

➵ a/n : thank you to @getmemyfries​ for beta-reading and constantly reassuring me about this fic, idk where she’s been all my life 😭, but surprise!! would you believe me if i told you guys i grinded this in just 3 days?? because YES i did, 19k in three days as a Christmas gift pretties, happy late holidays!!, comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

“Are you serious, Jimin?” 

“Very. I don’t know how you didn’t get the memo, literally everyone was talking about it.” 

“Did everyone else come with a date? There has to be at least one person who didn’t.” 

“And that one person is you, Tae. Did you forget that I made the theme all about mistletoe? Who did you expect to kiss under it, me?” 

“Super funny, Jimin. I just got really busy and I don’t even think I was paying attention to you.” 

“Well, it’s your loss now, everyone came with a date and you’ll be third-wheeling the whole night. You can’t blame us either, it’s cuffing season and you know it.” 

“Do I really have to come? I’ll just spend Christmas with my family.” 

“And ruin their vacation with your annoying ass? What a lovely son, an even better best friend for ditching my party.” 

“Okay, Jimin, I get it. Just-fuck, alright, I’ll find someone. Please tell me you didn’t plan anything too couply in case I have to bring an absolute stranger.” 

“Hmm, I’ll think about it.” 

And Jimin cut the call without a second to spare. 

Taehyung stood there baffled, appalled by his best friend for not even having said goodbye. But then again, maybe he really deserved it. Taehyung had just become too busy with his job this year to even think about Jimin and his friends’ party, allowing it to inhabit the back of his mind and loom over him for weeks, though not giving it the time of day he should’ve. 

And now he’s stuck in a situation he doesn’t know how to get out of. The party is in just two days, how exactly was he supposed to find someone that would even agree to accompany him? 

One, they would have to be someone explicitly bored on Christmas Eve. Two, comfortable with meeting complete strangers and spending an entire night with them. Third, they would have to be willing to even fake-date him. 

Taehyung knew he could at least satisfy the third requirement with just a smidge of his charm and good looks, though the real issues were the other two requirements, especially the first one. 

Who the fuck is ever doing nothing on Christmas Eve? 

These are the exact thoughts that clouded Taehyung’s mind, sighing heavily as he dejectedly sauntered into a coffee shop after work. It wasn’t the usual place, but he decided on a new one in search of a possible partner; even if it were a stranger from a different coffee shop, he’d take what he could get. 

It’s precisely why he began scanning the room just enough to discern any potential date as he waited in line. With his hands in his pockets, lips buried into his plaid scarf that draped over his brown winter coat, and attempted to make eye contact with any female he thought eligible. 

He spotted some cute girls, though made quick judgements about them not fitting his requirements; some meeting boyfriends, family, yapping away about Christmas plans as though the whole store needed to hear about it.

Pulling out his phone, he considered he had some female friends, maybe co-workers he could convince to tag along. It sounded like a great idea in his head, though when he scrolled though his contacts carefully, he found himself coming up short once again. 

Not only had he seen his friends’ stories, all flaunting their very apparent Christmas plans, but even more so his co-workers having literally informed him about either flying back home, meeting family or easing up far, far away on a tropical beach. 

And he definitely knew there’d be no one available. 

All of it made Taehyung feel deflated once he had placed his order and waited patiently by the store’s counter. He thought he was royally fucked, needed to forego social etiquette and just ask a damn stranger at this point. 

Sighing yet again, he mindlessly looked over to the side, catching a glimpse of the person ordering after him with a voice he suddenly recognized. Taehyung’s eyebrows immediately shot to the sky once he took a double-take, a near injustice to say he was only shocked. 

He was practically floored, had to rub his eyes a few times just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Surely he’d lost it after the gruesome shift he just pulled at work, because he was pondering how in God’s name was he seeing you of all people ordering. 

How the hell did you manage to look 100x prettier than you used to, Taehyung thought. It was no doubt you; your smile still charming as ever, your hair still elegantly soft, your eyes still naturally sparkling under every Christmas light in the store just like they always did. 

It was really you. 

The same you he knew all throughout high school though moved away after graduation, the same you who was brilliant at every subject though could never understand math, the same you who waltzed into school with that plaid winter coat anyone could recognize you for, the same you who always teased him about his love for pineapple on pizza because you could never comprehend the taste. 

The same you he once liked.   

It was actually you, bundled up in a gray winter coat and white scarf as you smiled a thank you to the barista, eventually making your way over to the counter Taehyung was situated at, settling next to him without having noticed. 

Taehyung thought you were an angel sent from heaven, a Godsend, his one and only true saviour once he studied you up close, concluding that you weren’t just some mirage but in fact his real-life friend from years ago who could possibly rescue him from this Christmas party fuck up. 

And so he didn’t waste a single, valuable moment, because you know what they say, ‘carpe diem’, oh captain my captain. 

“Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?”

Your surprised eyes snapped towards the oddly familiar low voice, eyebrows shooting up once you resgitered just who exactly said your name. You seemed to be in the same disbelief as Taehyung, himself utterly grateful you’d actually recognized him. 

“Oh my God, Kim Taehyung?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Taehyung laughed shyly. “Damn, how long has it been? 5? 6 years?” 

“6 years, yeah.” You confirmed with a smile. “Since graduation.” 

“I can’t believe that was 6 years ago, seems just like yesterday.” Taehyung couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face remembering the chaotic party by the lake you all threw together, resulting in someone nearly drowning, Taehyung downing more alcohol than he ever had in his life, and you shamelessly shoving everyone into the water until you eventually capsized yourself. 

Taehyung had to collect himself to coherently speak sentences again, nearly feeling his neurons incessantly firing off in his brain. “But wow, when did you come back to town?” 

“3 months ago, I was transferred for work.” You informed casually, though your sweet smile was infectious. “Wow, I’m.. I can’t believe I ran into you here.” You were honestly still shocked, marveling at the fact you somehow bumped into Kim Taehyung, the Kim Taehyung from high school.  

The same Taehyung who teased you about being terrible at math, the same one who only ever brought strawberry jam sandwiches to school and God forbid someone ever took a bite. The same Taehyung who was the cute social butterfly everyone completely adored at school. 

The same Taehyung you once liked.   

“It doesn’t feel long indeed, but you look.. different.” You did a light scan of him, noticing just how how much taller, more handsome and manlier he appeared. It was reflected in the edge of his jawline, crisp face structure and broader upper body. 

Quite frankly, he looked incredibly striking, almost intimidatingly so, and you could only think about when Taehyung used to appear a little scrawnier, lankier though still attractive all the same with his adorable eyes and plushy lips. 

It was nearly daunting to see the gorgeous difference now. 

“You look different too.. good different.” He added with a smile as he looked you over, and it was pleasant to see he still had that same boxy smile, the same little creases at the corner of his eyes. Though instead now, his smile looked devilishly handsome, and it was hard to not trip over your own feet about it. 

“You too. You’re so much taller now.” You commented, craning your neck just to converse with him. 

“And you’re still short, huh?” 

Your mouth flew open, scandalized at the comment though laughed when he chuckled at your expression. “Oh c’mon, you’re still gonna tease me about how short I am? It’s been six years, Taehyung.” 

“Hey, don’t think it’s not payback for all those times you lectured me about how ‘inhuman’ liking pineapple on pizza was. I still have your PowerPoint presentations saved.” Taehyung retorted through a laugh, remembering the way you’d really take the time to conjure up presentations just so he could be  unconvinced of the preference. 

“Okay, okay. You got me. Is there ever a way I could make it up to you... Assistant Curator Kim?” You read the lanyard that hung around his neck, inspecting it to see his ID photo along with his job title. 

“Ah,” Taehyung exclaimed, scrambling for the lanyard. “I was in a rush to get out of work so I left it on by accident.” Taehyung explained a little embarrassed, unhooking it from around his neck. 

“Why were you in a rush?” You knitted your eyebrows together, only asking out of innocent curiosity, though Taehyung lit up like a Christmas tree, knowing this was his golden opportunity and he was definitely going to take his chance. 

“Uh.. do you still remember Park Jimin and the rest of our friends?” Taehyung started. 

“Oh my God, of course I do! You’re all still friends?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. I mean, even when we get tired of each other we know nobody else will put up with us, so we’re still close.” Taehyung snickered, remembering him and his friends were still the same 7 dorks from high school. 

“Awh, I wish I could see them, we used to have so much fun together.” You pouted, shoving your hands into your pockets as you recalled amusing memories from years ago; stupid adventures to the lake by your school, chasing the sunset, knowing you probably incessantly bothered the owner of that one gas station you always visited. 

“Actually, the reason why I was rushing was because Jimin holds an annual Christmas Eve party, and this time around he made it a ‘bring-a-date’ memo, and I kinda got too busy to remember.” Taehyung began scratching the back of his neck, a little shy considering he didn’t really listen to Jimin when he should’ve. 

“Ohh.” You nodded understandingly. “So you forgot to get a date?” 

“Yeah.” Taehyung confirmed, nodding with some disappointment in himself. “But say, you mentioned a favour, right?” Taehyung eyed you knowingly, hand never leaving his neck as he forced himself to get the question out. “Are you doing anything on Christmas Eve?” 

You were a little taken aback, thinking you knew exactly where he was going with this, and also thinking it was a damn Christmas miracle. You remembered your unfortunate situation for Christmas Eve; your parents having booked a cottage for themselves considering you’d be working that day, though gladly enough your boss decided it was the most wonderful time of the year, so why the fuck would he keep people hostage at work? 

It landed you with quite literally nothing to do on the joyous day, and excitement began to fill your chest already about your answer, though you composed yourself to appear normal. 

“No, actually. My parents are at a cottage together, so I was going to be home.” 

Taehyung could’ve been on cloud nine right about now, thanking God or whatever supreme being for answering his prayers. You’d literally checked off his every requirement perfectly, and now all that was left was...

“Would you like come to Jimin’s party as my date? I know it’s only in 2 days and it’s really sudden, but I’m kinda stuck right now and I promised Jimin I would come after finding someone, he’ll probably kick my ass if I don’t-” 

“I’d love to come.” You broke out into a grin at his adorable rambling, nearly giddy your assumption from before was exactly correct.

“Wait, seriously? You mean that?” Taehyung asked in wonderment. 

“Why would I lie to you, Taehyung?” You chuckled at the endearing way his face was lighting up, trying to ensure he couldn’t see the stars in your eyes as you looked at him.  

“Oh my God, you actually just.. saved my life.” Taehyung reveled, expression of utter gratitude. 

“Don’t mention it. It’s all I can do after making you sit through 10 minutes of me berating you for liking fruit on pizza. It’s still weird, by the way.” 

“Hey, don’t make me take your drink and ask you to jump for it.” Taehyung chastised, biting back a smile at the fact that you two still bickered like old times. 

“Fair point, so in two days, huh?” 

“Mhm. Can I get your number, actually? I’ll send you the details tonight.” Taehyung began digging for his phone in his pocket. 

“Oh, yeah of course.” You agreed as you went for yours. You both huddled a little closer to exchange the digits, trading phones and adding your names into each other’s contacts. It dawned a slight fuzzy feeling in your chest, getting a whiff of Taehyung’s masculine cologne and realizing in this proximity, just how incredibly ravishing Taehyung had in fact grown up, how much larger and broader he was in comparison to you. 

That he was a man now, not the quirky little dork you once knew, and that thought alone caused something to momentarily alight inside you. 

He was a man now. 

“Remember when we only had iPods and had to talk through our land lines?” Taehyung took a trip down memory lane and grounded you back to Earth, returning your phone to you. 

“Ah yes, when technology was just expanding and us 90′s kids were always caught in the weird middle.” You reminisced as he chuckled, recalling the older days. 

You were just finishing typing in your name for your contact, nearly clicking save until you decided to add the little bow emoji next to your name, handing Taehyung’s phone back to him. 

“A bow?” Taehyung inquired, finding it cute. 

“I deserve it, I’m your little Christmas present under your tree, aren’t I?” You flashed him a cute flower pose with a kittenish grin, the barista calling out Taehyung’s order just after. 

Taehyung could only smile widely, endeared you still had that same playful charm. “Yeah, you are.” He made for his drink and nabbed it, fixing his phone back into this pocket before addressing you. “I’ve gotta get going. I’ll see you in 2 days, okay? It was seriously great meeting you again. Y/N.” 

“You too, I’ll see you then!” You chimed with a wave as Taehyung began stepping away, almost turning from him until he suddenly called out to you one last time, just about through the door.  

“Thank you again, Y/N, I owe you, my Christmas present!” He shouted his last words through a stupid smile, you returning the same one as a welcome before Taehyung exited the shop. 

And you couldn’t stop yourself from breaking out into the goofiest grin then, cheeks hotter than you remembered. You were glad Taehyung was still the same charismatic, easily lovable person from high school, the same charm and adorable impishness about him. 

Only now, he was all grown up and matured, no longer the slightly awkward, though heartfelt kid who liked stealing your history notes. And you became a little afraid feeling the same flutter in your heart from 6 years ago, curious if it was just a momentary lapse upon seeing him again, or signaling the ignition of an old flame it took you years to forget. 

Taehyung : remember to bring your competitive side today ;)

You : omg, what did jimin plan? 

Taehyung : you’ll have to wait and see 

Taehyung : jimin’s a creative one, remember? 

You : how could i forget? i’m never forgiving him for making me spend 3 hours writing calligraphy for that anthro project 😭

Taehyung : man, the guys are gonna love seeing you again

Taehyung : be there in 5! 

You : gotchu! 

You hated that you smiled so stupidly at your screen, never having forgotten the fluttery feeling Taehyung always managed to manifest in your stomach.

You clicked your phone screen off and checked over your outfit for the umpteenth time, wanting to look good not only for Taehyung (though that was the primary reason) but also for the rest of the crew. It’d seriously been too long since you last saw each other, having always been up to dumb shenanigans in high school though sadly parting ways after graduation. 

It was only inevitable with everyone’s future plans being so dissimilar, you having gone down the road of law and miraculously scoring a scholarship to a prestigious university a few towns over, spelling your departure from your beloved childhood city and therefore, goodbye to everyone you knew. 

You were glad the boys managed to remain so closely-knitted despite their different paths; Taehyung having clearly acquired a job at a museum considering his love for art. Last time you remembered, Jimin was an aspiring dancer, Hoseok was a natural at hospitality, Seokjin always rambled on about acting, Jungkook was gifted with a camera, Namjoon adored books and Yoongi wouldn’t trade music for the world. 

It was bittersweet recalling such memories, having to leave behind everything you knew to pursue your own dream. Bitter, though sweet knowing you had larger than life opportunities awaiting you. It was precisely what landed you your current job, working comfortably at a high-status law firm albeit stealing very much of your time. 

It was perfect, nonetheless, since the main office was located back home and you had just been transferred 3 months ago, finding your way back 6 years later. You didn’t know if the boys were still in town, had no real clue where their lives went with only stray social media posts indicating they were still alive and healthy. 

So running into Taehyung all of a sudden? It made you more than glad, remembering not only your fun times together as a group, but your comfortable friendship with him, and the undeniable feelings you’d developed overtime. 

Suffice to say, you both were quirky yet cute, and you made perfect sense. Not only did it land you two a supportive relationship full of laughs and teasing, but also numerous instances where someone’s actions or behaviour became suggestive, questioned the borders of actual friendship between you though nobody willing to take the leap, and it left all your friends inquiring exactly when you two would start dating. 

Though that was the sad part, you never did. And the reason why? You have no real clue. It simply never dawned on you to express your feelings towards Taehyung in fear of him not feeling the same, thinking your crush was just a phase and you’d eventually view him as a friend again, a process of denial you repeated for the 4 grueling years of high school.

Though the second you realized you’d have to say goodbye so soon, with the possibility you’d never see him again, you realized Taehyung was the one boy you truly loved, and sometimes questioned if you still did. 

It hurt to have to hug him one last time before you disconnected, remembering the way you cried having to part from everyone, and Taehyung held you against him until your eyes dried, waving an innocent goodbye before you rounded the corner of your street and disappeared forever. 

To this day you haven’t got a clue if Taehyung ever felt the same, always chalking up his little lingering touches, hugs and double entendres to his naturally flirtatious and outgoing nature. It hindered your ability to say anything, thinking over the years maybe your non-confessional departure was an enormous mistake. 

So when you heard the doorbell of your apartment ring, in the five minutes Taehyung promised, your heart couldn't help but leap at the thought you’d see him again, meet all your old friends and spend an entire festive, fun-filled night with them. 

You made for the door without a second thought and pulled it ajar, meeting Taehyung’s somehow more stunning self all ready to go. He’d decided today to dress with a tan plaid coat, black turtle neck poking out from underneath paired with black slacks to match; and you realized Taehyung definitely invented the all-black look. 

Sources? You. 

You almost gawked, his hair set to reveal some forehead though curl just before his eyebrows, and it was evilly handsome. He was evilly handsome. 

You remembered he was standing right in front of you, thinking a good moment has passed since you uttered anything, a warm smile as you addressed him. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” He greeted back, scanning over you, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered for a second on your legs. You’d gone for your same gray coat, though surprisingly with an all black outfit underneath as well, cute wrap around dress with a v line dipping just generously enough, all paired with pantyhose. 

Who cares about a little cold when you want to look cute anyway, right? 

“We’re matching, it’s cute.” He complimented, his smile just a little impish as it met your chest momentarily though flashed back up to you. 

“I guess you’re cute too.” You shrugged, nearly hiding your face under his scrutiny. 

“We should get going, m’lady. Jimin’ll chew my head off if I’m late too.” Taehyung feigned a sophisticated tone, turning aside and holding out his arm for you to loop like a gentleman. 

You chuckled just a little and clutched your side bag, hooking onto his arm as you switched the lights of your apartment off and shut the door behind you. 

“Now would the kind sir tell me what we’re doing today?” You inquired as Taehyung began walking you down the hallway, peering at his God-like side profile. “You’ve been so mysterious about it.” 

Taehyung clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Now what’s the point of a surprise if I tell you?” 

“But why is it a surprise? Don’t tell me it’s something ridiculous like rock climbing.” You playfully scolded, trying to keep up with his long strides as he led you towards the elevator. 

“Maybe it’s just to see the way your face will light up when you find out.” Taehyung suggested with narrowed eyes as he looked down at you, you staring back at him in scrutiny until you both snickered. 

And as you entered the elevator arm in arm with him, maybe you felt that same skip of your heartbeat from years ago. 

“Holy shit, Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?” Jimin’s face was utterly surprised, his warm, puppy eyes you remember too well wide as he held the door open.

“Of course it is, Park Jimin!” You cheered as you held your arms out for a hug, his gentle arm wrapping around your torso as he beamed.

“The guys are not gonna believe this, I gotta tell em’. Come in, come in!” Jimin ushered you and Taehyung inside, redirecting his attention to the beautiful, open space condo he called his humble abode. “Guys! Come to the front, look who’s here!”

You and Taehyung were propping your boots off when people eventually came piling into the front foyer and responding to Jimin absentmindedly. All were similarly unsuspecting their eyes widened when landing on you, sounding the next slew of hilarious commentary you’d missed too damn much. 

“No way, is that Y/N?”

“Holy fuck, Y/N?”

“Y/N, we thought you left town, when did you come back?”

“Taehyung, how the hell did you find her?”

“Even better, how the fuck did he get her to come as his date?” It was Jungkook who made the quip that elicited everyone’s snickering, yourself simply overwhelmed by the amount of memories that came back just by the sound of their quite manlier now, though familiar voices.

They all still had the same charming features, each of them reminiscent of their teenaged selves, but the difference? Now they were polished into captivatingly good-looking men you were baffled to even know at this point. 

“Oh my God, it’s been 6 years, just let me hug you guys!” You excitedly gestured for them to come to you, friendly smiles all around as you embraced and reunited. 

“Jungkook, why wouldn’t she agree? You trying to say something?” Taehyung didn’t let the earlier insult go, eyebrows quirked as he retorted.

“Dude, Y/N has always been out of your league.” Yoongi added.

“And honestly, now she’s even more out of your league.” Seokjin joined the teasing and it erupted another bout of cackling from the group, you only left to shyly scrunch your nose and giggle.

“Okay, okay, let’s move from standing here, yeah? There’s a party and 6 years worth of catching up to do!” Jimin chimed, chastising everyone huddled by the corridor and allowing you and Taehyung to settle into the home.

Jimin was still the meticulous perfectionist you knew back then, his home adorably charmed with Christmas decorations that made his place feel incredibly warm. His pretty Christmas tree in the corner with some gifts wrapped underneath, his fireplace adorned with pretty stockings, even the small trinkets scattered around were reminding your sadly adult-self that it was indeed Christmas, and it’s meant to be jolly. 

It automatically created an atmosphere of festivity, and catching sight of the dates each friend brought moving about, it only felt more like the holidays with 14 people occupying the home. 

You were marveling with a wide smile at the scene before you, everyone moving back into the house to resume what they were previously doing until you suddenly felt someone’s hands hook onto the neck collar of your jacket from behind. You whirled around in an instant with seeking eyes, viewing the culprit was none other than the only owner of the largest, most slender hands you still found incredibly attractive.

Goddamn you.

“Sorry, I’ll just take your jacket for you.” Taehyung realized he may have startled you. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed, hurriedly shredding off the layer not having noticed you were still wearing it. “I could put it away myself though, give me yours.”

You reached for Taehyung’s jacket in his hands, though he immediately jut the jacket further away from you in protest. “No, no. You’re my date, I’m taking it.”

“But Tae-”

“Hey, you’re my present, remember? You deserve it.” Taehyung mimicked you from your exchange at the coffee shop, you ultimately acquiescing as a result.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully, though a laugh was pulling at you all the same. “What would you be, though?” You asked out of curiosity. “If I’m the present, what are you?” 

Taehyung toyed with your question in his thoughts until he chose the perfect answer, lips growing into a smirk as he drew closer to your face a little. “The one who gets to open it up.”

Something shot through you that was alarming, his cocked eyebrow indicative he was being suggestive, and you played it off with a scoff. “It’s not even Christmas morning yet, and I know you’re just the goodest little boy on Earth who’d wait until he can open his presents.” You clasped your hands together, condescendingly feigning innocence. 

“Or maybe you just never got to know, Y/N.” Taehyung then suddenly leaned down much closer to your face, inches from you as he looked into your eyes. “I haven’t always been a good boy.” 

Taehyung was boring something undistinguishable into you, though the double meaning of his words left apparent heat in the air between you. 

And here it fucking was again, those same double entendres Taehyung had always shot your way though you always took it as him simply fooling around, so you always joined in with your own jokes, assuming the same approach now.  

“Hmm, we’ll see about that, Good boy. Santa’s watching.” You countered as you patted his chest sarcastically, causing Taehyung to stand to his full height biting his lip. 

He stared at you for a moment before walking away, noticing how long his legs were and the unfair curve of his ass, and you suddenly gained a new feature of his to ogle at. He eventually disappeared and you breathed, temporarily forgetting you had a dumb habit of holding your breath whenever he was so close; his piney with a hint of ocean breeze cologne having been left behind, and hitting you like a truck just as much as his all black outfit did. 

God fucking dammit. 

You decided to ignore your intrusive thoughts and waltz into the party instead, grabbing yourself a drink and eventually making your way towards some of the boys’ pretty dates. It was refreshing to feel the presence of women, thanking the Heavens they were all relatively sweet and amicable. 

Conversation always came easy to you, what with being a lawyer who has to be a master with words anyway, so it wasn’t difficult to not only befriend some of the girls, but also reconnect with the boys merrily, Taehyung by your side. 

“Y/N, how dare you not contact any of us about coming back?” Hoseok asked, a little upset timbre in his tone. 

“Yeah, I’m actually a little hurt you ended up coming with Tae of all people. After all the books I shared with you?” Namjoon feigned disappointment, a hand to his heart in near heartbreak. 

“Dude, what’s wrong with her coming with me? Not my fault you gave her boring ass books.” Taehyung defended.

“Tae, you’d steal her history notes for fuck’s sake.” Namjoon countered with narrowed eyes. 

“Guys, it’s been years. I just thought it’d been too long, so I didn’t say anything.” You stopped them, sadly remembering the way communication dwindled out the more you all progressed in your life. 

“Look, you’re always welcomed, Y/N. You think I’d forget the girl who pulled an all-nighter just to edit my shitty final essay for English? I told you I’d write your name on my damn tombstone when I got an 80.” Seokjin laughed with a glass of eggnog, though supportive in his remark and it made you reminisce. 

“I have no clue to this day how you passed English on just Sparknotes. Jungkook hated English more than you and he still managed to actually read 1984.” You chastised him like old times, though now it was a memory that brought a smile to your face. 

“Look, I wasn’t interested in knowing the asshole motives of Big Brother and the 3-minute hate speech.” Seokjin defended himself. 

“2-minute, and it was still a good book.” 

“You’re telling me 60 pages of that dumb manifesto Winston found was good?” Taehyung perked up with crossed arms, quirking his eyebrows at you in incredulousness.  

“Oh c’mon, you learn the entire history of the Party and all their bullshit.” 

“And you’re still a nerd, I see.” Taehyung ticked his head to the side with his snarky remark. 

“Oh shut up, I got a better mark than you on the final essay anyway.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re a nerd.” Taehyung countered. 

You gave a disapproving, scrutinizing look as you marched your way over to Jimin’s Christmas tree, comically gesturing to the Balsam Fir beside you. “I’m literally your Christmas present under the tree, Taehyung, you have to be nice to me.” You chastised him though it only made the boys looking on crack up. 

“Y/N, you’re still hilarious as fuck.” Hoseok was lighting up with laughter, his pretty giggles sounding in a way that honestly made you giggle in the end too, Taehyung only letting up because you were just so you, and it tugged at his heart strings.

“Speaking of Jungkook from earlier, where is he? I just remembered the math notes he owes me his life for.” You perked up, gauging his presence around in the condo. 

“He’s over there eating the chocolate chips, yah, Jungkook! Stop it!” Seokjin scolded from across the room where Jimin and Yoongi were bustling about in the kitchen, and you became confused hearing the mention of chocolate chips. 

“Chocolate chips? I mean, I’m not complaining, but that’s quite the eccentric choice for party food.” You held up your hands in mock surrender. 

“Oh, Taehyung didn’t tell you? It’s for the competition later.” Namjoon informed, though you only furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Competition?” 

“Yeah, baking competition. Jimin planned a couple’s one for his mistletoe theme. I’m beating all your asses, by the way. I’m a genius at decorating.” Hoseok folded his arms with a self-satisfied expression. 

“Please, my girlfriend and I hold weekly bake-offs, watch yourselves, losers.” Seokjin calmed everyone down with his own greatness, you simply becoming beyond excited. 

You turned to Taehyung in an instant, expression completely telling of wonder as you inquired with a high-pitched tone. “Tae, you didn’t tell me we were having a baking competition, that’s so cool!” You beamed, elatedly looking towards Jimin and Yoongi preparing ingredients.  

“Taehyung’s a cryptic one, remember?” Namjoon joked, trying to stifle a laugh with a hand over his mouth, and Taehyung immediately defended himself.

“Shut up, hyung.” He sounded offended, though the smile tugging at his lips indicated after years of friendship, he’d never actually grow vexed at his admirable friend. 

Taehyung then met your eyes, smile growing more apparent, warmer. “I told you it was to see the way your face would light up, didn’t I?” He tilted his head to the side then, eyes playfully studying you as he confirmed his observation. “Yup, your eyes totally still sparkle the same.” 

You couldn’t help but fill with another wave of fuzziness, feeling as though Taehyung always knew how to make your insides all giddy, and maybe even thinking what’s so wrong if your feelings really were coming back? 

You could only smile sheepishly at him, the rest of the boys knowingly watching the two of you like they have for years, everyone only falling out of the trance of the moment when Jimin’s voice called out from the kitchen.  

“Alright Martha Stewarts, who’s starting the ass-kicking?” 

“Hyung! That’s not fair, you can’t steal from us!” Jungkook scolded him as you watched the mania in front of you, Seokjin and his girlfriend Sa-Ha vs. Jungkook and his date Mira. It was becoming devastatingly hilarious, both teams only having 1 minute left until their cookies had to be plated in tip-top shape, all scrambling to create the best-looking ones. 

“I can and I will, you stole from us first!” Seokjin rebutted him, Jimin raising his voice to signal how much left time was. 

“30 seconds you guys, make it count!” And it was another catastrophic seconds until the timer went off, both teams exhausted and complaining all the same about their hard time fueled by Jin and Jungkook’s endless bickering. 

It was laughs for the few of you looking on, waiting your turns until Jimin’s date Song-i chose from the hat of pairings, your eyes going wide once she called out your name with Taehyung’s against Hoseok and his date. 

“Oh my God, Tae, that’s us!” You grabbed his arm alarmed, seeming nervous and it caused him to look at you. 

“Why are you so nervous? We’ll do great.” 

You scoffed at him in protest. “Taehyung, you did horrible in home ec, we’re gonna lose!” 

“Hey, I’ll make you jump for the ingredients, have some faith, will you?” Taehyung retorted, grabbing you by your hand and dragging you over to one of the two counters Jimin’s grand condo had to offer. 

“We’re taking you guys down on decorations, I’m a genius.” Hoseok gloated from his counter, tying his apron as he eyed you. 

“I have a curator on my team, Hobi, we’re beating you.” You scrutinized him with an angry pout as he stuck his tongue out, you whirling back around to adjust your apron. 

“Okay everyone, aprons on?” Jimin inquired, you having put on yours though watching Taehyung struggle with figuring out the apparently rocket-science contraption. 

You sighed with a laugh until you grabbed it from his hands, helping him out. “It’s like this, Tae.” You got on your tippy-toes to situate the apron around his neck as he bent down for you, the contrast of your heights always having made Taehyung a little weak. 

He was only left to watch you as you fixed the apron onto him, finding himself not even watching anymore, but straight up gazing, admiring. 

Admiring the way your eyes were always in a state of perpetual sparkle, your small lips he never forgot the amount of times he contemplated kissing, your dress revealing your collarbones and chest that beckoned for him to just tear it off, all weakening him even more so.

What made him even weaker, however, was noting the way you’ve matured into a woman after 6 years. 

A very beautiful, attractive woman. 

Your body had always been art to him, but now you were polished into a masterpiece he desired to adore, run his hands all over. Your face structure was more evened out, hair set to fall elegantly upon your shoulders and neck so utterly inviting it all added a sense of sexy maturity to you. 

It was distracting, Taehyung venturing off on the thought you were a woman now, not the innocent, sweet nerd he once knew, and it constantly began to rack his brain when he felt something course through his veins about it. 

Because you used to be so painfully innocent, so naturally a girl next door he couldn’t help but want to taint sometimes, to ruin and unravel for his own. He could even feel it with every time your smaller hands touched his body as you worked the apron guilelessly, wanting to snatch up your wrists instead and do unspeakable things, especially with that fucking dress on his mind. 

What made it all worse is that Taehyung could tell you only acted guileless, and never actually were. You also made your own suggestive comments, always caught his drift and he could tell you weren’t the innocent little thing you appeared to be. 

 Taehyung was so completely lost he heard you suddenly calling his name. 

“Taehyung, are you listening?” 

He blinked. “Huh?” 

“You have to listen to what I say, okay? Just follow my instructions and we’ll win against them.” You made little fists in the air to encourage him, Taehyung mimicking the action. 

“Y-yeah. I will, let’s do this.” You turned around after smiling sweetly, fixing some of the utensils on the counter and completely unsuspecting of Taehyung’s thoughts. 

That even after 6 years apart, after thinking he’d successfully forgotten about you, there was still something that pulled at his heart every time he saw you smile, every time you were ever near him. 

And he came to the conclusion maybe his feelings really haven’t changed from 6 years ago. 

“Taehyung, can you pass me the butter, please?” You asked urgently, whisking away at your bowl of almost-there cookie dough with Taehyung hovering around you as he watched. 

“Got it.” He returned with some of the butter, you struggling to scoop some of it until Taehyung reached out for the block. “Here, let me do it and you whisk.” 

“No, you’ll end up putting in too much. Let me do it.” You nudged him with your elbow, picking at the butter. 

“But you’re already whisking, just let me take it out.” Taehyung protested as he reached, though you blocked him right away.  

“No, Tae, remember we decided I’m on baking and you’re on decorating?” 

“Your job is way harder than mine and I’m useless right now, let me at least whisk.” Taehyung grabbed for the bowl until you snatched it away from him, already done with scooping the butter when the action caused some of the flour to fly up on your dress, gasping scandalously. 

“Taehyung!” You whined, Taehyung scrambling for a quick apology. 

“Oh fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Taehyung almost completed until a splash of flour went hurtling onto his shirt, causing him to look down with his mouth agape. “You did not just throw flour on my black turtleneck.” 

“You got flour on my black dress first, you tree.” Your eyebrows were set hard as you scolded him, still loosely whisking away at the cookie dough. 

“It was by accident, you half-pint.” Taehyung rebutted, trying to bat the flour off himself.

“Then mine was an accident too.” You mocked him, unsuspectingly whisking again when flour suddenly hit your chest, offended to find Taehyung snickering with it all over his hand. 

“That was an accident, too.” 

“You’re so...” You huffed out as you placed the bowl down and grabbed your own handful of flour, just about to throw it on Taehyung when is large palms came up to snatch your wrists, forcing your arms back as he snickered. 

“Taehyung, this is unfair!” You complained, struggling against his hold. 

“It’s an accident.” Taehyung mimicked with a genuine laugh watching you scramble in his hold, until the smile wiped off his face shortly after when you simply released the flour from your palm and it spilled all over his turtleneck. 

Your cheeks puffed up trying to contain your laughter, Jimin’s own giggling fit sounding and you remembered he was monitoring the competition. “Taehyung, you dumbass, you had that shit coming.” He held his stomach, entire body laughing at his best friend. 

You were giggling along with Jimin until Taehyung had had enough, licking his lips with mischief. 

“That’s it, come here.” He then spun you around and engulfed you with his arms from behind, holding you snug to his chest as you tried to escape him alarmingly, knowing what Taehyung was going to do next. 

“Taehyung please, wait, I beg of you, don’t!” And it was already too late when you felt his long fingers begin to tickle at your sides, your incessant protests melding with giggles along with his beautiful laughter filling the kitchen. 

You continued to fight against his hold, the constant feather-like touches making you reel and breath leave your lungs. “Taehyung, stop! Oh my God,” you struggled through a laugh while he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I’ll die, Taehyung, please!” 

“Nope, this is what you get.” Taehyung continued his onslaught as he held you tighter, you beginning to acquiesce in order to reason with him.  

“Okay, okay, look. We’re running out of time!” You tried controlling your laughter, tears pricking at your eyes as you tried to calm down. “We have to beat Hobi and Ah-yeong or else we’ll lose!” 

His amused voice sounded near your ear, still reprimanding you. “I’ll only stop if you say sorry.” 

“Alright, I’m sorry!” You were grabbing at his wrists for release. “I didn’t mean it, just stop tickling me!” You protested with a giggle until you felt his fingers rest, rather exchanging it for simply encasing you. 

“Good girl, you’re getting on Santa’s nice list.” Taehyung joked. 

You could only sigh as you resupplied oxygen to your lungs, moving towards the bowl. “Okay, let’s get back to work before we lose.” You puffed out air, breaths levelling as you returned to the counter and grabbed the whisk and bowl, only to find Taehyung hadn’t retracted his arms yet. 

He instead remained behind you, reaching for the utensils in your hands, his large ones grasping them along with you and the contrast of his broad body enclosing your smaller one made you feel something in your core.

Your eyes widened in surprised when his head unexpectedly found your shoulder, resting his chin there as he peered down at the bowl before you, you sputtering. “Taehyung, w-what are you doing?”

“Helping you, is there a problem?” The deep cadence of his voice was just by your ear, dangerous for your health. 

“N-no. But it’s okay, I’m fine on my own-” 

“Nope, this is the least I can do for you..” Taehyung’s tone seemed to trail off suddenly, having calmed down from his laughter and you found him speaking in earnest. “You’re my Christmas present I dragged all the way here with me, remember?” 

You could only smile sympathetically as you looked to your side, eyes welcomed by his gorgeous side profile on full display just centimeters from you. It made you realize just how close he was, his warmth engulfing you and it caused little sparks to fly inside your chest.  

“It’s not so bad, Taehyung. You’re just a good boy who needed his little Christmas present.” You teased light-heartedly, proud of your remark until Taehyung suddenly turned towards your ear, ghosting the shell of it with an unexpectedly darker tone, low and down right gruff.

“I’m not always a good boy.” He stated it simply, though the hot baritone in his words oddly left your spine cold, freezing over even more when Taehyung then wrapped his arms entirely around your torso, pulling your back to his chest. He did it so tightly you could suddenly feel your ass pressed to his covered length, oddly contradicting how couple-like you two probably appeared and it was goddamn intoxicating. 

You panicked at first but eventually basked in his hold, mustering the courage to speak with a suggestive tone. “I’m not always a good girl, either.” 

You threw it out there, cheeks slightly heating adding your own double entendre, though the way Taehyung suddenly tensed for a second had you feeling more confident, the puff of air he sucked in apparent. 

The conversation only ended with a satisfied hum from Taehyung as he watched you bake, a nice rumble that reverberated from his chest and into your back, feeling an odd arousal spike all the way down to your toes. 

It was already lethal with his pretty hands holding around your waist, the closeness an added thrill. It made your chest fill with something riveting, almost anticipatory of what all of this meant between you two, excited for wherever this night would truly go. 

It wasn’t long before it came time for Taehyung to plate and decorate the cookies, carefully placing his little embellishments he swore were the cream of the crop as you bickered with him, your incessant teasing resulting in you hugging him from behind while he worked. 

And Taehyung knew he was doomed the second he felt your very obvious chest press into his back, his nerves pumping carnally as he then felt a side of him he’s always hid from you escape its reigns. 

It was damn transparent Seokjin and his girlfriend would win, their exquisite baking and cooking skills having created masterpieces everyone dug into happily. It’d won them the choice of what movie everyone would watch tonight along with a dinner that the losers, surprisingly not you and Taehyung, but Namjoon and his date would have to pay for. 

Everyone was now seeking comfortable positions for the movie around the TV while you were last minute cleaning with Jimin in the kitchen, offering your help after the mess you and Taehyung made with your little flour mishap. 

Taehyung had properly gotten rid of the flour on his sweater, now lounging on an armchair in the living room with his phone in hand. You felt yourself glancing towards him more than you should’ve, reprimanding yourself each time though found yourself doing it nonetheless. 

It was just hard to keep your eyes off him when Taehyung was the epitome of a Greek God, questioning how such a being is allowed to walk among us commoners. His chiseled jawline was far too handsome for his own good, his neck sculpted so perfectly it left you you wondering what it would feel like to mark him up all over, and the way his long legs were manspreading before him was so inviting the sight alone made you figuratively drool. 

And fall even harder. 

You didn’t realize you were ogling until Jimin’s hushed voice pulled you out of your reverie. “You’re staring.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

Jimin chuckled as he continued to wipe the counter one last time. “It’s been 6 years, why don’t you just say something?” 

“There’s nothing to say, Jimin.” You tried brushing him off, though Jimin didn’t buy it. 

“My ass, Y/N. You really think after what happened in the kitchen there’s nothing between you two?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just how Taehyung is.” You concocted an excuse, deflating as you did so.  

Jimin shook his head in disapproval. “It’s been like this since high school, Y/N, why didn’t you just tell Taehyung how you felt?” 

You looked at him in earnestly before softening into a sigh, knowing Jimin was really the only person you ever spilled your feelings for his best friend to. 

“Because I was scared, Jimin. You know how hard it was for me to even admit it to you.” You answered with a quiet voice, scrapping the flour you threw at Taehyung into the garbage. 

“But Y/N, you two... the way you are. What were you so afraid of?” Jimin’s sweet, pacifying voice asked, clearly having been rooting for you both ever since you fessed up. 

“Rejection, Mimi. Even if we’re like that...” You trailed, thinking over your relationship with Taehyung. “What if it’s all only a joke on his end? Taehyung has always been naturally flirty.. and we’re friends. I don’t think I’m any different than a conquest.” 

Jimin understood your point, though made it his own to advise you otherwise, washing out the cloth in the sink. “Y/N, that’s only what you believe.” His eyes told you of genuine support, offering like the comfort fairy he’s always been. “Just because you believe something, doesn’t make it true.” 

And that damn well hit home for you, realizing that maybe you’ve really been in your head too much about this, overthinking by creating doubts and excuses in your head to subdue your fear of confessing to Taehyung, to avoid the hurt of rejection but possibly missing an entire opportunity. 

“You should tell him, Y/N. It’s been long enough, you’ll never know how he feels if you don’t try.” 

You became apprehensive. “But how do you know if he’ll feel the same way?” Jimin could only chuckle to himself, his smile radiant as he found you the most innocent, yet funnily oblivious thing on Earth. 

“Look at the way he acts around you, Y/N.” Jimin advised. “He’s my best friend, and I’ve never seen him like that with anyone except you. Conquests are conquests, but you’re you, and that’s different to him.” 

Your mind instantly went into a frenzy, thinking well fuck, Jimin is Taehyung’s best friend, and he’s telling you that all this time Taehyung has never really enacted the same behaviour and energy with anyone expect you? This whole time? What does he mean you’re different? You’re.. different to him? Aren’t you just his female friend he’s known since ninth grade, and so surely there’s nothing but the added value of history there, right? 

Right?

You were only left to digest Jimin’s words as you placed the dustpan back to its original spot, Jimin finishing up with the sink. The conversation ended there, Jimin guiding you back to the living room and nestling himself next to his date. You were distracted with Jimin’s suggestions until you walked into the space and realized there was nowhere for you to sit, the couples perfectly paired up and occupying all the available space. 

Your entrance is what made Taehyung snap his vision to you from his phone, watching your confused face contemplating where to sit until he whispered to you, motioning towards himself on the armchair furthest from the screen and tucked behind the other couches. “Y/N, come here.” 

You studied his placement, on a singular armchair with his lap very much open. You shivered at the sight, though protested in a hushed tone realizing the chair could really only fit him. “There’s nowhere for me to sit.” 

Taehyung then spread his legs a little further apart and tapped his thigh, revealing some space for you to sit.. on him. “You can sit here.” 

You were glad the lights were turned off, just so Taehyung didn’t have to see the blush that rose to your cheeks when you answered. “Um, o-okay.” 

You then ambled over to him in front of the rather comfy looking armchair, thanking God everyone was too distracted bickering over Seokjin’s movie choice to pay attention to you both. 

“Are you.. sure about this?” You managed to get out, mind going feral over the fact that one of your previous thoughts was actually manifesting itself, nearly chickening out. 

“Mhm, just sit on me.” Taehyung offered casually, his expression unreadable and ultimately making you doubt Jimin’s advice from before, realizing that Taehyung has always been a hard person to read, which is why you could never tell how he felt about you, shutting your trap about damn love confessions. 

You didn’t respond and rather tentatively made it to the take your seat, the seat that was Taehyung’s fucking lap. You placed your ass on his thigh with your legs thrown over him, angling yourself so that the temple of your head rested against his shoulder. 

Though it proved to be lethal in seconds, his cologne now completely flooding your nostrils and the thin skirt of your dress leaving much of your clothed core feeling the muscle of his thigh. 

You felt Taehyung tense underneath for a second as you adjusted the skirt of your dress over your own thighs, smoothing it over properly as your hands then clasped in your own lap. 

Taehyung was glad you didn’t have the ability to read his mind, because the second he realized everyone was naturally pairing up to cuddle with their dates, it would only mean you two would have to do the same. So when you paddled over, standing before him in that cute dress he’s been wanting to tear off you this entire party, he was more than thrilled to offer his lap as your seat. 

But when you actually sat on him, your ass and hints of your core against his thigh with your tempting legs draped over him, he was continuously beginning to think dangerously, salaciously. 

He tried to keep his breathing leveled, though the second he felt you adjust against him and your covered center press onto him, he knew he would never survive whatever fucking movie everyone eventually settled on. 

When it finally began to play, Taehyung snaked his arms around your waist and held you to him, feeling your breath hitch for the tiniest second before you relaxed. 

And it damn well thrilled him. 

The movie was beginning to progress now, Taehyung and yourself in the same comfortable position until you yawned and snuggled more into him, a hand coming up to drape across his chest and head finding shelter closer into his neck. 

Taehyung tensed again, feeling every breath you took with the weight of your smaller body on top of him, mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t keep quiet anymore. 

And especially when you shifted your ass a little against his leg, he twitched with something so much more carnal, blood pumping somewhere it shouldn’t and this time, Taehyung didn’t really feel like holding back anymore. 

His hands suddenly faltered, his palms coming to singularly rest against one of your thighs, clasping it slightly. He knew there was nothing but your leg with only pantyhose as a barrier for your skin, sending currents through his veins thinking you could definitely feel his every touch. 

You nearly jolted when Taehyung’s hands met the meat of your thigh, the placement shooting more arousal through you than it should’ve. 

You were calm until Taehyung suddenly inched his hand towards the inner part of your thigh, making your core clench and hand clutch his sweater to contain the electricity it sent. 

You’ve always had such dirty thoughts about what Taehyung’s hands could do, the slenderness and length of his fingers always revving your imagination. So to have his fingers just on the inside of your thigh, sitting in his lap as he seemed to be teasing, was enough to send your brain spiraling. 

Your scandalous thoughts made you shift against him to experimentally feel the friction, your core grinding against his thigh for a moment and Taehyung’s breath immediately hitched. His grip on you tightened and his hold tensed, had you suppressing the feeling of making a sound. 

He slid more inward, closer to the prize he was seeking and you could only hide your face into the junction of his neck at the way your pussy felt butterflies. It made you squish your thighs together to feel something, and God fuck, was the tension between you two so searing you could feel it radiating off Taehyung’s body. 

It’s what made whispering slowly against him flow easily, quiet so as not to alarm anyone in the living room. 

“I thought you were a good boy, Tae. What are you doing?” Your voice was sultrier than you planned, and it wasn’t chastising him at all, rather teasing for something more. 

You could only feel the rise and fall of Taehyung’s chest underneath you as he contained himself, the cuddling leaving you to feel his every micro-movement when he responded. 

“I thought you were a good girl, what are you doing?” Taehyung’s voice was low and deep, the vibration coursing through your body and it only invited you to become hornier. 

“Guess I’m not a good girl after all.” 

Taehyung made a sound as though scoffing, dangerous in its tone. 

“Guess I’m not a good boy, either.” And just after, Taehyung inched his fingers even closer to your clothed core, making the slightest of contact on your slit through the material of your dress and you practically twitched in his hold, sucking in a breath as you clasped onto the fabric of his shirt. 

“You have no idea..” Taehyung suddenly spoke up, voice laden with something hungry, hot. “what I’ve always thought about doing to you.” 

You could only jolt in his lap, more of his cologne meeting your nose and it caused you to suppress a sound by stuffing your face into his neck. “What.. have you thought about?” 

Taehyung then suddenly cupped your sex over your clothes, making you grapple onto his neck and bite back a moan so hard you had to breathe through your nose. 

“How I want to ruin you.” Taehyung’s low baritone and rough palm rubbing teasingly against your now aching pussy left you gushing, arousal racking the bottom of your stomach you were almost afraid of how easy it was for him. 

Your breath was shallower now, trying to compose yourself by egging him on. “You’d want to ruin an innocent girl like me?”

“I know you’re not innocent, princess.” Taehyung asserted with the slightest growl to his tone, thankful your seat was positioned behind the rest of the others so nobody could see what was going on. 

“Only when it comes to you.” Your seductive voice beckoned lust to course through Taehyung, breathing out hot air. “What else?” You suddenly croaked out. 

Taehyung hummed lowly into your ear, his palm smoothing over your cunt in ways that had you screwing your eyes shut. “How I want to make you beg.” He purposefully pressed harder against your clit, had you scratching into the column of his throat. “Make you scream my name.”   

You gushed your arousal even more, breathless with your words. “I bet you say that to everyone.”

Taehyung chuckled dismissively, dipping his head lower to whisper darkly into your ear. 

“I only say that to pretty little things I want to ruin, and you’re the prettiest little thing I know.” 

Your breath came out in a weighty puff, sighing satisfyingly against him as you snaked your hand from his neck down to the hardening length in his pants. You grazed your palm over his clothes and he twitched almost violently, biting back his hiss with a strong grip against your thigh with his free hand. You grew proud, speaking up when it boosted your ego. 

“I’d love to see you try.” 

And that was when the pads of Taehyung’s fingers pressed into your clothed cunt so euphorically you were seconds from letting out a moan, Taehyung cupping his palm over your mouth to silence you. 

“Shh.” Taehyung sounded by your ear. “Can’t let everyone hear my girl, now can I?” He hushed you huskily, leaving you to sigh your arousal into his large palm and eternally grateful the movie’s volume was loud enough to mask your talking.

Taehyung then began the slowest circular ministrations on your clit, shooting continuous pleasure through your body as you clutched your hand onto his wrist holding your mouth, urgently trying to suppress moans he was easily milking out of you. 

It felt like sparks, continuous sparks in your covered pussy as Taehyung rubbed against your folds, gliding down to your slit and teasing your throbbing hole. 

The mere prospect of his fingers shoving inside you made you wet beyond comprehension, only digging little crescents into his forearm with muted moans. It was sickening how easily he had you turned on, how easily you were getting riled up by just his fingers, and so you mustered the strength to lightly stroke his cock over his pants as revenge.

Taehyung then put pressure against your clenching hole as punishment, shoving your face into his neck when he teased your entrance and squishing his hand between your thighs with his other urging them open. 

“Look at you,” Taehyung growled. “all fucked out just by my fingers.” He whispered darkly into your ear, the vibration of his baritone voice once again sending you into overdrive. “They’re not even inside you yet.” 

The ‘yet’ had you restless, body grinding against him and this time it was Taehyung trying suppress a satisfied groan. 

“If my fingers have you like this, imagine my-” 

“Oh c’mon! That’s not even realistic!” Seokjin suddenly shouted at the screen, startling you and Taehyung. 

“Jin, calm down. It’s just a feel-good Christmas movie.” Yoongi cautioned him. 

“How the fuck does the kid just free the burglar from the cop car? It’s damn common sense.” Seokjin complained about the scene from Christmas with the Kranks, having been unsatisfied with the movie since the beginning. 

“Baby, why’d you choose this movie?” He whined to his girlfriend Sa-Ha, her feigning innocence as she defended herself. 

“It’s almost over, Jinnie. Just sitand watch.” 

And that’s when Taehyung ripped his hands off you, leaving you to breathe out ruggedly for a few seconds before your vision looked up at Taehyung’s, mutually shocked at what the fuck just happened.

You’ve never done something like that before, and as your scared sights looked back at each other, you could only think you were both under some sort of horney trance that swept you two into uncharted waters. 

It made you divert your eyes from Taehyung immediately, your mind going blank. 

Taehyung was left hard and extremely turned on, though began dissipating once he couldn’t fathom he went that far with you so quickly, his brain having been clouded by lust he should’ve kept in check.

And with the way you looked at him, panicked and snapping your vision away in an instant, he doesn’t know if he just made a grave mistake. 

You both became shameful, swallowing dryly as your attentions fixated back onto the screen, thinking about what just transpired. 

There was this incessant feeling in both your chests contemplating there was something more, clearly more between you two. 

And it was downright fearful. 

“Yah, why are you guys leaving so early? C’mon! There’s still half the eggnog left.” Seokjin pouted from across the room, sadly chugging his drink as the others hummed in agreeance. 

“Yeah, c’mon guys. It’s the holidays, let’s all spend it together, sleep over for the fuck of it!” Hoseok chimed in what you could tell was an inebriated state, practically swaying as he talked and the lilt in his tone ever-so cheery. 

“Um, excuse me? Sleep over? Nobody’s doing that.” Jimin shoot him down from where he stood near you and Taehyung, scolding his friends with crossed arms. “If they want to leave they’re allowed, we already made Y/N abandon her Christmas for us.” 

“It’s alright, Jimin. I missed you guys too, I wanted to come.” You offered sentimentally, hand touching his elbow to let him up and he eased. 

“Since you’re officially back in town, we’re never leaving you alone again, Y/N!” Namjoon called out from the living room, engrossed in whatever was playing on the TV. 

“Yup, seriously not going to leave you alone.” Yoongi hummed with half-lidded eyes, near falling asleep on the couch. 

“I still owe you for those math notes, expect me becoming your Genie for a day!” Jungkook called out from the kitchen, most likely munching on the treats everyone crafted during the competition earlier. 

“Of course, I’ll see you guys! Merry Christmas!” 

“Merry Christmas!” Everyone cheered, their dates similarly adding on. 

You then brought your attention back to Jimin, seeing you and Taehyung out as the wonderful host of today’s party. “Thank you for the party, Jimin, it was amazing.” 

“Yeah.” Taehyung perked up next to you, apologetic he was so negligent of the party in the first place. “It was seriously fun, Jimin, I’m sorry I acted like it wasn’t a big deal before.” 

“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Jimin casually waved him off. “Dude, you could text me a Merry Christmas and I’d be alright, you know us.” Jimin smiled reassuringly, right on your toes when Taehyung and yourself stepped into his front foyer.  

You were both fixing on your shoes just before Jimin’s door when he spoke up again. “It was great having you guys, and even better having you, Y/N, come here.” Jimin held out his arms for a warm hug, you returning it merrily. “You’re always welcomed here with us, visit anytime you want.”

“Thanks, Jimin, it really means a lot.” Your grateful eyes found his once you disconnected. 

“We’ll get going now, thank you again, Jimin.” Taehyung for some odd reason placed an arm around your shoulder, pulling you two a little closer and you simply accepted the action, trying not to read into it. 

“Of course.” Jimin replied. “Though one last thing, you remember the theme of this party, right?” Jimin asked you both, you and Taehyung similarly responded with knitted eyebrows. 

“Yeah?” 

“Well look up, lovebirds.” Jimin cocked his head upwards towards the ceiling, casually leaning against the corridor of his entrance when you and Taehyung glanced up, innocently viewing the little mistletoe dangling above your heads, eyes reflecting the realization of what Jimin was conveying. 

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Jimin added with a purposefully hushed, knowing tone. He was just about turning away until he called out in caution. “Oh, careful driving, by the way. I just heard the snow got bad.” And with that, Jimin left nothing but his sweet cologne in the air when he disappeared.

You and Taehyung shuffled about a little, not exactly daring to exchange gazes when the air became all stuffy. 

You were both mutually pondering what the absolute hell to do in this moment. Do you kiss? Do you not kiss? Do you awkwardly try to address what happened earlier after silently agreeing with your dicey body language to never speak of it again? Or hell, do you damn well take Jimin’s advice and just flat out tell him you’ve always had feelings for him? 

Wait. 

Jimin’s advice. 

It came back to you, thinking Jimin was actually extremely wise in what he said. You took to his words into consideration, studying some of the little things Taehyung did around you, from the things he uttered all the way down to the simple way he even looked at you, contemplating something, just something had to be there.

But then maybe, just maybe you could also chalk it up to his naturally flirtatious behaviour you’ve always observed, always habitually affectionate with people and that’s what’s always made him so easily lovable in the first place, what made Taehyung a boy who was born to be loved. 

And he was tricky, his expressions and feelings always indistinguishable with the composed, nuanced way he carried himself especially now, convincing you reading him was a lost cause. 

Though as you glanced at Taehyung right now, visibly nervous, his usually schooled face and unreadable expression now indicating nerves, awkwardness you two have never really experienced between each other before, you decided maybe you should stop making excuses. 

Stop avoiding signs and doubting his every move and burying your feelings so deep underground, that maybe you should just fucking take your leap of faith already. 

So you stepped closer to him, your figure almost laughably smaller compared to him, and watched as his pretty eyes brightened in surprise at you. 

It only took a few seconds, for your lips to curve reassuringly, for your soft hands to cup his face delicately against the edge of his sharp jaw. To get on the tip of your toes and bring your lips to Taehyung’s, pressing a heartfelt kiss to mouth. 

A kiss so very soft and tender, it was like teenagers kissing for the very first time, and it made you giggle on the inside, thinking that’s exactly how your entire ordeal has felt like; your two teenage selves trying to navigate whatever feelings lied between you. 

Taehyung was shocked, having been silently berating himself for being too bold too quickly and thinking his abandonment of chivalry in that instance was wrong, the air between you having been tainted with a sense of unspoken, though apparent awkwardness for the rest of the party. 

But now, now you were kissing him, and for the first time, his insides leaping at just the prospect. It felt like a damn dream, though the press of your mouth against his confirmed it was in fact real, that it was gladly his sweet reality. 

That after years of imagining what it would feel like, he’s kissing the girl he’s loved since the second he saw her hair glow in the rays of the sunset, the minute he realized she wasn’t just pretty, but beautiful to him, the hour he’d witness the moonlight kiss her skin when she stayed up with him on sleepless nights, leading all the way up to the year he realized she’d leave him, so soon, so fucking soon it absolutely crushed him. 

And Taehyung wouldn’t admit it you, but your departure left his heart ravaged for quite possibly years, continuously overthinking how different things would’ve been if he just told you. Told you how he felt, told you that behind every innuendo, behind every hug, every tease, every stupid smile he flashed your way, that there was love behind it all. 

Pure, unadulterated love. 

He regretted it for months, for years thinking he’d truly lost the greatest opportunity in his life having let you go without protest, without fighting for you like he should’ve. 

It hurt, it hurt until he’d eventually grown accustomed to the ache in his heart whenever he saw that same plaid pattern on anyone else, reminded of the jacket you wore to school everyday. The way he found himself subconsciously comparing nearly every girl he dated to you, how on rainy days and quiet nights, he sometimes wondered where you were, what you were doing, if you were awake at this time of night like he usually was, remembering the way the moonlight always seemed to love you, just like he loved you. 

And he still did, Taehyung thought. He still loved you, now feeling your lips kiss him, your adorable height making you tippy-toe, the gentle way you held his face comforting. 

Your lips then disconnected, Taehyung seeing your gaze was warm, something so reminiscent of affection, adoration in your eyes, and he thought in that one, singular moment that maybe, just maybe... 

You loved him too. 

“Fuck, this snow is bad.” Taehyung swore as he gauged any clear path of the road ahead.

“I hate to admit this, but the group was right. It was probably better staying at Jimin’s.” You sighed, worried about the amount of damn white you were seeing blanket the world outside. 

“I thought if we left early we could escape it, but shit, mother nature is always so fickle.” He complained. 

“It’s her charm, unfortunately.” You shrugged, realizing there was truly no way for you to get home now. “It’s early too, the snow ploughs won’t clear the roads just yet.” There was suddenly a concerned lilt to your tone as you peered ahead, gripping Taehyung’s arm and it grabbed his attention. “It’s getting dangerous too, Tae. I don’t want you driving in this.” 

Taehyung was glad he had the gifted ability of hiding his emotions, because right now he would’ve been embarrassingly over the moon. He smiled back to you reassuringly, then contemplated an alternative.

“Would you.. rather come to my place?” Taehyung inquired, biting his lip once he realized he stupidly stuttered. 

You blinked. “What?” 

“Well, my place is much closer, and it’d be less dangerous driving there. You can just stay until they clear the roads.” Taehyung relayed casually, expectant eyes on you as his hands tapped against the steering wheel. 

Your face slowly turned into an appreciative smile, taken aback by his act of kindness, but also felt something exciting tickle the bottom of your stomach. 

“Sure, I’d love that.” 

Taehyung shut the door of his apartment as you removed your boots, shredding stray snowflakes off his jacket when he spotted similar ones on yours, his hands naturally jutting out to rid the tiny icicles off you. 

You turned around at his touch, thanking him and he smiled a welcome back. He’d taken your jacket just like before and tucked them away into his closet, gesturing towards his living room for you to get comfortable. 

“Make yourself at home, do you want water or anything?” 

“Yeah, actually. Water would be nice.” Taehyung nodded as he made for his kitchen, you tucking the skirt of your dress underneath you as you took your humble seat on his couch. 

His home was so painfully Taehyung, it had you smiling like an idiot he was still the same. The same introspective Taehyung who adored art and photography, the same Taehyung who absolutely hated shoes and you could tell just by the way he abandoned them earlier he still had the same habit. Even to the way his house reflected this artistic, calming, and nuanced feeling he similarly had.

It drew you to admire some of the pieces draping his walls, when Taehyung returned with a glass of water, handing it to you as he plopped down on the couch. “Here.” 

“Thank you.” You took the glass, gulping down some of the liquid for your parched throat. 

“Your apartment is nice.” 

“Thanks.”

You then both sat in silence for a short while, tapping the edge of the glass in your hand as you scanned the rest of his charming home. The silence wasn’t awkward considering the past events of today, just a silence in its definition. 

“I still can’t believe I ran into you at a coffee shop.” Taehyung suddenly remarked, looking off at his table in front with a smile tugging his lips. 

You chuckled. “Why? Too meet-cute for you?” 

“No.” He chuckled too. “It’s just, I really thought it was the end when you left after graduation.” Taehyung paused for a poignant moment, air heavy with something as you watched him muster the courage to say something else. 

“I thought I’d never see you again.” 

He claimed it with such a sense of sadness, sense of longing that reminded you of how upset you also were that day, the rampant emotions that came crashing down realizing you were leaving behind an entire life. 

“Me too.” You added with a similarly downcast tone. “I thought I’d never see you again, either.” 

Taehyung then looked at you, eyes meeting your gaze. “I’m glad that wasn’t true.” Something lingered behind his words, something incredibly thick and telling, though you deflected it with a joke to lighten the air. 

“I’m glad you didn’t delete my PowerPoints, either.” You snickered, hand coming up to cover your mouth, “I used to put a lot of work into them.”

Taehyung scoffed playfully, smiling through a chuckle as he responded. “I didn’t have the heart to. You were so passionate about your hatred for fruit on pizza.” 

“I still am.” You added. “Do you really have them?” 

“Yeah, I do. Let me show you.” Taehyung then pulled out his phone from his pocket, clicking away on the device as he scooted closer to you and leaned in, you similarly doing so and peering at a Google Drive folder of your wonderfully crafted presentations.

“Oh my God, I thought you were joking.” You snorted, snickering at the hilarious folder name; ‘Y/N says Fuck Hawaiian Pizza: the Saga’

“Nope, couldn’t delete them even if I was dared to.” Taehyung laughed with you, both of your eyes naturally falling as he shut off his phone, the conversation shifting. 

“You know, I never actually hated it that much.” You admitted sheepishly. “I just liked annoying you and wasting 5 minutes of your day with every presentation.” 

Taehyung looked scandalized at first, mouth falling agape until he ultimately let it go, admitting something of his own. “You know, I never actually needed your history notes. I just liked being annoying about stealing them so you always had to chase me down.” Taehyung’s smile was suddenly impish, shy as he fixated on fiddling with his slender fingers. 

“After all that running I always did after you too? Jheez, you’re the reason I have strong calves now.” 

“And you’re the reason I’m really good at presentations now.” You both chuckled together, the old days coming back in bouts until your mood changed, remembering Jimin’s advice from earlier. 

As you looked at Taehyung, while he didn’t look at you, you could only help but find every reason in the world to listen to Jimin. Because Taehyung was Taehyung, he was the Taehyung that stole your heart with his boxy grin, the Taehyung who made every other man seem like an unappealing idiot you wanted nothing to do with, the same Taehyung who’s heart was made of love, and you wanted nothing but to return to him the love he gifted the world.

Because you loved Taehyung, no matter how much you’ll try to deny it, you still love him. All his smiles and giggles and soft hair and his sometimes coltish, though endearing ways of being himself. All his hard expressions and intimidating eyes and handsome looks and the way he holds a universe of stars in his old soul.  

So your next words flowed, flowed more fluently than anything ever has in your life. 

“You know,” You paused, eyes faltering to the glass in your hand. “I think, for the majority of high school... I had a crush on you, but I never said anything because I thought you wouldn’t want me.” 

And there came the silence, the piercing, God awful silence you were so afraid of and so sure was spelling your doom. You didn’t dare look up from your glass now, downright terrified he was probably pulling the most confused face ever, and his silence was deafening. It had you contemplating the best way to jump out his window, he was only, what, 14 stories up? A human can survive a fall that high, right? 

“You wanna know something?” Taehyung suddenly broke the silence, his deep, dulcet voice sounding beautifully in his apartment, and your eyes widened the second he opened his mouth next. 

“I think I was in love with you for the majority of high school, but I didn’t say anything because I thought you never felt the same way.” And that’s when everything clicked, when your eyes widened in revelation, when it suddenly felt like the 6 years you spent battling your feelings for him was nothing but a sad joke. 

Because this moment, alone, made you realize you two had the same hearts all along. 

“You wanna know something?” You swallowed hard, eyes still on your glass as it shifted in your hand mindlessly. “I think... I’m still in love with you.” 

You couldn’t see Taehyung, because you didn’t dare look at him at a time like this. You just sat there, breathing as leveled as you could until you felt Taehyung shift on the couch. He’d moved closer, closing the small gap between you both, beckoning you to finally look at him and that’s exactly what you did. 

He spoke low, deep and low and it had your toes curling at just how proximal he was, his beautiful eyes gazing at you like you meant the universe and more to him. 

And little did you know, you really did. 

“I think..” He started, gripping the glass of water from your hands and placing it onto his coffee table. “I’m still in love with you, too.” 

And your heart was set ablaze in a matter of seconds, your tentative eyes finding Taehyung’s as he leaned in, large palms on either side of your body as he inched closer, closer, and closer, until all he could see were your lips, jutting his face forward until his lips just brushed yours. 

You chased his mouth a little, fluttering your eyes shut and Taehyung couldn’t help but smile before finally, finally pressing his lips to yours. 

His mouth kissed you slow at first, slow and steady and it was intoxicating just like this. He constantly chased your lips, mouthing at them sensually and it was driving you insane, just the taste of his lips with a hint of wine on his breath shooting electricity to your core. 

His hands moved to your sides, wrapping around your rib cage as he leaned you back onto the couch and laid on top of you. His body covered you as far as you could see, your dainty hands coming up to find his jawline and pull him against your lips fervently.

He slowly grew more passionate, smoothing over your sides as he mouthed for more of you, swallowing the little moans you made that vibrated through his body and it only revved is engine more. 

Taehyung was taken, completely taken by how much he wanted you that he could only see you, could only think about all the dirty but soft and tender and passionate things he wanted to do to you. 

One of his hands travelled underneath your thigh, pulling your leg up against him as he pressed his hips into your core, his hardening cock prodding you through his clothes once he started a gentle rocking motion. 

Your hands travelled up his beautiful neck and tangled into his hair as you reciprocated. A slight tug left him groaning into your mouth, causing you to buck up into him harshly and it sent Taehyung’s mind into a dangerous place. 

His breathing elevated against you, gripping your ribs so urgently it only made you pull him closer, arch your chest into his just so you could relish in the feeling. Your heart was thrumming in your chest, veins coursing with adrenaline so white hot it wasn’t long before you were moving desperately with Taehyung and it fueled your horny nerves.

Taehyung suddenly disconnected his mouth from you, breathing so shallow his chest was rising and falling fast. He was only centimeters above as he looked down at you, his eyes boring into yours with such a prominent sense of longing, want, pure desire, it took him no time to speak. 

“Do you know how long..” He took a breath. “I’ve wanted to do that?” 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?” You replied, hands now smoothing over his shoulders to feel him, his body raging hot as he laid on top of you, looking at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted. 

“Fuck, we’re so stupid.” Taehyung quickly said before his mouth crashed onto yours. This time there was something carnal in his kiss, something urgent and hot and it only made you pull him closer for more. 

His tongue began to lick over your lips, slithering inside your mouth and the taste of him was euphoric, making you tangle your tongue with his just to taste him over and over again, until it was safe to say your tongues were down each other’s throats. 

He kissed you sloppily, kissed until he was consuming you, his fingers digging into your thigh and side so fervently you knew there’d be marks, and it made your spine shiver, even more so when he spoke again. 

“The minute.. I saw you in that dress..” He breathed out, kissing in between the exhaustion of his lungs. “I wanted to rip it off you.” 

You groaned desperately at his confession, wanting Taehyung in ways that were so utterly carnal, almost feral, your entire being wanting to consume every inch of him, lay a million kisses across his honey-coloured skin and hear his caramel voice whisper into your ear, and so it didn’t take long for you to voice your desire. 

“Taehyung..” You sighed, a satisfied lilt to your tone and it only lit Taehyung on fire. 

“Mm?” He hummed, licking into your mouth on a quest for everything inside, his hips now grinding into your clothed cunt so harshly he was practically dry humping you, and without a second thought you were moving yourself against him too, hands exploring his broad chest. 

“Taehyung..” You were more urgent, and it made Taehyung grunt harshly. “Rip it off me, Tae, unwrap me like you said you would.” You started harshly tugging at his offensive shirt, tracing the column of his throat as you relished in his delicious kisses. 

And it all made Taehyung move so much harder, so much more roughly you were moaning into his mouth at the press of his hard, long cock against your aching core. 

“Ruin me, Taehyung.” You scratched your nails against his neck, swallowing him into your mouth as you talked. “I want you to ruin me.” 

“Fuck,” Taehyung swore, his length beginning to prod you so much more apparently as you bucked your hips up into him, it was sending Taehyung down the proverbial hole. And when you let out another gorgeous moan of his name, he knew he was a goner. 

“Fuck, I can’t do this anymore.” 

Taehyung then harshly grabbed your wrists and forced them against the couch in a single motion, eyes growing dark with heat radiating of his body in waves. He darted to the underside of your jaw and kissed hard, began mouthing at your skin until he travelled to the junction of your neck, sucking over the sensitive skin so rampantly it had you squirming underneath him, desperately trying to feel him against your core. 

His pretty purple marks began blooming onto your neck, evidence of his raw desire for you, the years he spent longing for you. His teeth were nipping your skin, tongue licking over the bites as he pressed your wrists further into the couch the more you resisted. 

You breath hitched when he moved to the slightly exposed valley of your breasts, making your nipples harden at just the prospect of his mouth travelling there. You began fighting his hold, causing you to arch into him as something dawned on you. 

“Taehyung.. your shirt.” You whined, trying to manage the pleasure of his mouth canvasing your skin. 

Taehyung left you for a mere second to shred off the annoying piece of clothing, tossing it aside as he returned to you urgently, your legs hooking around his torso as he came back to you. 

His mouth was sucking hickeys onto your chest again when his hands began to smooth down your sides, so sensually purposeful until he reached underneath the hem of your dress, hooking onto the waistline of your pantyhose and panties, tugging teasingly. 

Your core ignited at just his touch against bare skin, gushing as your hips harshly grinded against his body and your hands smoothed over the lean muscle of his body. 

He yanked the pieces of clothing down the curve of your ass, proceeding to pull them past your thighs as you unhooked your legs to help take them off you. 

The rush of the cold against your wet pussy lips made your breath hitch beautifully, one of Taehyung’s hands moving your skirt to let his large, warm palm cup your sex so pleasurably the contrast of the size of his hand and your little cunt sent you both ablaze. 

“You’re so small, think you can take me, good girl?” Taehyung breathed against your chest. “I’ll fuck up your insides.” His baritone voice was dark and low as he warned you, sent arousal spiking through your nerves as you groaned. 

“Fuck up my insides, Tae.” You desperately moaned out, hands finding Taehyung’s hair as he continued to lay searing kisses to your hot skin, his fingers rubbing your dripping folds harshly. “I just.. I need you, Taehyung, so fucking badly.” 

“Say it again.” Taehyung hissed, exposing one of your bare breasts from your dress and pressing his tongue against a perched nipple, the wet sensation so satisfying you were scratching his shoulder blades. 

“I-I need you, Taehyung.” 

“Need me where?” He growled as he pressed against your clit and circled it, collecting your slick and spreading it all over yourself. 

And it was hard, so fucking hard to think straight with your bare, soaking wet pussy was rubbing against Taehyung’s rough fingers and his lips sucking your exposed nipple for dear life, the pleasure burning inside you so hot your voice was coming out in choked moans. 

“Need you inside, Taehyung.” You gasped out. “So empty without you, so fucking empty, for so long.” 

“God, fuck.” Taehyung groaned proudly, popping off your breast to look at your half-lidded eyes, his own blown out with his hair mussed and lips swollen pink. He returned to your lips again as his hands simultaneously hooked underneath your thighs and suddenly lifted you off the couch, your legs secured around his torso as he walked you into what you assumed was his bedroom. 

Your core rubbed against the buckle of Taehyung’s belt as he walked and you gushed oceans, the cool metal providing such delicious friction you were moaning satisfyingly into Taehyung’s mouth, grinding against him for more. 

His kiss was fervent even when he splayed you onto his covers, back hitting the bed as you stroked your hands over his beautiful bare chest. 

Taehyung suddenly came off you, eyes going wild as he looked down at your panting figure underneath him, then your offensive dress. 

“Fuck this thing.” Taehyung nearly ripped it from your body, shredding the pretty fabric off and simply basked in the glory of seeing your naked body for the very first time. 

Taehyung’s eyes filled with pure wonder, the moonlight and reflection of white snow falling outside adding a glow to your skin he couldn’t help but marvel at, your curves so beautiful he wanted to run his hands all over, the purple of his marks left on you only making him blossom with more arousal, more passion. 

“Holy shit, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Taehyung’s face was so blown away, you couldn’t help but grow a little shy, bringing him close to you by his neck so you could breathe into his ear. 

“Good, I hear you ruin them.” 

Taehyung could only smirk, rolling his tongue on the inside of his cheek, cock twitching at just your words. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” 

Taehyung trailed one hand down your body, momentarily wrapping it around your throat until it was gliding over your nipple and down to your core, lining the lips of your pussy so teasingly you were reeling. 

The pads of his fingers smoothed over your pussy lips again, applying pressure to your clit that had you lurching, until he used the opportunity to slide two fingers into your aching hole with ease. 

“You’re so fucking wet, dripping all over my fingers.” He growled into your ear as he laid himself on top of you, his free hand holding your face while the other worked your core. 

The sharpness of his long, slender fingers were euphoric, causing you to moan loudly. You could see his hard dick pressing against the fabric of his slacks almost painfully, and you jutted your hand out to begin palming him generously. 

Taehyung could finally hiss as loud as he wanted, screwing his eyes shut in sheer pleasure. 

He began pumping you faster in response, sliding in and out so deliciously you were moaning incessantly against his mouth as he began kissing you again. Your breasts were pressing into Taehyung’s bare chest the more you arched yourself, closing the offensive gap between you both and the skin to skin contact sending you both to cloud nine. 

“Taehyung..” You moaned in between kisses, so shameless about your desire for him you only wanted to know his name. 

“Taehyung.” 

“Fucking hell, that does shit to me.” Taehyung began thrusting harshly into your hole now as punishment, practically finger-fucking you against his bed till it made your walls clamp down on him, trap his slender fingers inside so you could feel every heavenly inch of them.

You became hungry for more, your hand grabbing at Taehyung’s straining cock harder and the strangled groan that left his lips was so fucking beautiful, your insides were screaming. 

“Shit, Taehyung,” You moaned out breathlessly. “You’re so hot like this, so fucking hot. Fuck me, fuck me like you said you would. ” 

Taehyung’s breaths turned heavy and hungry, his cock aching to be inside you so painfully he was going insane at your every word. 

“Fuck. I’m fucking you into next week. I’m fucking you until you only know my name. Fucking you until you know how badly I’ve wanted you, until your legs are shaking and you feel me in your throat.” 

“Then do it.” You nearly cried out, hands fumbling with the waistband of Taehyung’s pants. Your pussy was aching so excruciatingly around Taehyung’s fingers your slick was gushing from you, all over him and it only made Taehyung feral thinking about what would happen if it were his dick instead. 

“Fucking do it, Taehyung, fuck me until I’m shaking.” 

Taehyung flipped his switch and suddenly shoved his fingers so deep inside you, scissoring you completely open it made you lurch up in searing pleasure. His large palm grabbed underneath your head and positioned you upwards, able to angle his fingers so he could smash them inside you so harshly it was pathetic it wasn’t even his dick that had you high, but just his fingers. 

“Holy fuck, Taehyung!” 

“Cum all over my fingers, pretty. I wanna hear you.” Taehyung growled into your ear, couldn’t help but think about your walls convulsing around his dick and it was euphoric hearing you moan, all fucked out underneath him. 

He couldn’t stop finger-fucking you like his life depended on it, wanted to fill you up in so many ways you’d remember him for weeks. 

You were almost there, the edge so close. It was racking the bottom of your stomach, had your toes curling and walls pounding so snug around Taehyung’s fingers you could only latch onto the nape of his neck for dear life. 

You felt it, felt it so near and had his name leaving your mouth in such an intoxicating mantra you were seconds from letting go. Seconds, milliseconds, just about to release your impending orgasm until Taehyung ripped his fingers out of you. 

You gasped scandalously at the loss, body buzzing with your unachieved high it made your exclaim come out in a garbled protest.  “Taehyung, what the fuck?!” 

You tried getting an answer, but Taehyung’s hungry, half-lidded eyes shut you up immediately, watching him lick his fingers like he was starved, like this was the sweetest honey he’s ever tasted. 

“Fuck, you taste as sweet as you look.” Taehyung’s grin was evil, and it made you turned on but pissed he denied your orgasms. 

“You’re so-” You attempted to get out, but Taehyung suddenly flipped you onto all fours in a second, your hands and knees anchored onto the bed with only your shocked figure confused. 

“T-Taehyung, what are you-” You then sighed at the sudden touch of his tongue meeting your weeping hole in a devilish swipe. It was intoxicating, feeling his wet muscle begin licking into your core and tasting your soaked folds from behind. 

“I’m doing what you asked..” His voice was dark and weighty, and that’s when you suddenly felt another sensation of his two fingers returning to your throbbing entrance. Your insides buzzed when he spoke against your core, grittier than he ever has all night. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” 

And his tongue suddenly slithered into your hole when he removed his fingers, licking into your entrance in a harsh rhythm as his palms began grabbing at your ass, kneading the meaty flesh as he straight up devoured your pussy like it was the only thing he’s wanted his entire life. 

His tongue was lapping you fervently, so starved your dissipated orgasm was coming back again. You were winded, having never been eaten out like this and you were moaning his name loud enough to get noise complaints filed to the police. 

“Taehyung!” You cried out, though he didn’t let up. Instead he brought one of his hands to your pulsing clit, circling and applying so much necessary pressure you were losing your mind, insane off the fact he hadn’t even filled you up with his cock yet and you were pathetic underneath him. 

“Fucking God, Taehyung, Tae!” And when he groaned so audibly into your pussy, rutting himself against the bed for friction it sent you flying, soaring into the sky and losing all coherent thought as your orgasm bubbled in your stomach, his husky voice grounding you to Earth. 

“Cum for me, baby, now.” And that was all it took to have you lurching over the edge, releasing your pent up orgasm so violently you were nearly screaming, Taehyung’s name the only distinguishable thing rolling off your tongue. 

He licked up your juices like they were fresh water, helping you ride out your euphoric orgasm and allowing yourself a moment to rest. You breathed, falling onto the bed in exhaustion, trying to quell the blood pumping in your ears when Taehyung suddenly pulled you back onto your hands and knees, cautioning you darkly when he spoke. 

“You thought we were done?” It was evil, he was evil, the way his voice sounded like the epitome of a smirk as you tried catching your breath. Taehyung’s lips then suddenly ghosted the shell of your ear as he wrapped an arm around your torso, pressing his chest to your back as he spoke. 

“I haven’t even done anything yet.” 

And again, it was the ‘yet’ that had you groaning out in frustration but in the best possible ways. How wasn’t this already enough? How did he have you so fucked out just by the sheer power of his fingers and tongue? It was sickening, he was sickening and you found yourself throwing your ass back on him to urge his cock into you already, to just fuck you open with all he had. 

“Taehyung, just-fuck! Fuck me, please.” You were pleading, needing to feel the wreckage of what you could tell was the biggest cock you’ll ever take.  

Taehyung had removed his pants and boxers in the moment, freeing his painfully angry cock from it’s confines. You were faltering from your position again when Taehyung suddenly prodded your abused hole with his engorged tip, you shuddering to life harshly. 

“Taehyung, just-” 

“Beg me.” 

You cried out in immediate desperation, his voice so authoritative it was sending you into submission, clutching the covers under you so hard your knuckles were white as you complied. “Taehyung, please, fuck me. I need you, please.” 

Taehyung’s arm was snug around your torso, feeling your every quaking expire in his hold and it was turning him on so agonizingly this was painful even for himself, but the way your sweet voice begged him was absolutely exhilarating.

“More.” 

“Taehyung, if you don’t fucking-!” You were cut off by the sharp impalement of Taehyung’s cock in a single breath, knocking all forms of wind out of you. The head alone was so large you went hurtling into the mattress, almost losing your shaking arms’ support until Taehyung pulled you back up for him, snaking his one hand that was previously around his cock to your breast while the other gripped at your hip. 

He was slowly sinking in, feeling your walls flutter open for him and the satisfied moan that left his mouth was evidence of how much this was affecting him. 

“Fuck...” Taehyung dragged out completely content, digging into your hip to watch you arch your back for him, on his knees as he filled you up from behind. “You’re so fucking tight and wet, holy shit.” 

You were struggling for air, oxygen leaving your lungs trying to accommodate for his monstrous size. It was unfair, so unfair he was so big and it had you praising him immediately, so full and stuffed it was the most pleasurable thing you’ve experienced all your life. 

“You’re so big, oh my God, Taehyung, so big.” One of your hands shot towards his holding you by your hip, interlacing your fingers together against your skin just to ground yourself, to manage the sharp pierce of his length until it simmered into a pleasurable burn. 

He bottomed out into your cervix and you both grunted loud, Taehyung containing himself just so he could feel your velvet walls palpitate around his throbbing dick. “Do you feel how hard I am, Y/N? Do you fucking feel it?” 

“Yes, God fuck! Tae, yes..” You sighed out, eyes watering at just how much pleasure was already raking your abdomen again. 

“That’s what you do to me, you barely touched me and this is how hard I am. How fucking badly I want you, how much I’ve always wanted you, wanted you since day one.” Taehyung’s voice was sincere and desperate, seemingly trying to counter your confession of your feelings from earlier.

“Show me, Taehyung.” You moaned, hands gripping his more affectionately, more desperately as you weakly held yourself up by the other. “Fuck me and show me how much you want me.” 

Taehyung grunted out harshly, pulling his cock out of you until he thrusted back in. The first thrust had you keening, sending you into the mattress only to have Taehyung pull you back up once again. Then the second came, your walls greedily soaking him into you and it felt perfect, like two puzzle pieces meant to connect with each other. 

Then came the third, the fourth, the fifth, all the way until Taehyung was pounding into you from behind with a drag so delicious you were moaning out more than you ever have in your entire life. 

And it was sickening, utterly sickening the way his dick began fucking you into the mattress so roughly, angling your body in ways for his cock to pump into all the right places with the right amount of pressure. He watched himself disappear into your little cunt repeatedly, holding your hip up to encourage you to arch so low your ass was snug against his pelvis, and couldn’t think of anything more fucking perfect. 

“You take me so well, so fucking well.” Taehyung praised, leaning over to aimlessly lay wet kisses up your spine like the demon he was, shoving himself into you over and over and over again with your walls convulsing around him.

You were trapping him inside you so tight he could spill into you in seconds, though held back determined he was making you cum again.

“So full, Taehyung, so deep.. all I feel is you.” The statement left you with a desperate sigh, your head hanging low until Taehyung’s hand kneading your breast suddenly wrapped around your throat, causing you to gasp at the arousing feeling. He pulled your head upwards, the junction between his long index finger and thumb forcing you to look forward, and you were utterly breathless at the scene.

His lips were near your ear in seconds, speaking like the devil incarnate as he was bent over you. “Look at us, look at yourself, so fucking pretty, so perfect.” You could suddenly see the reflection of Taehyung fucking into you from behind in his window, not even knowing tears had streamed down your face as his hand beautifully encased your throat, causing every nerve in your body to alight with fire. 

“Look at the way I fuck you, how much I love you.” Taehyung’s carnal eyes looked at you through the reflection of the window, heart twinging at the sight of you crying but knowing he’s making you feel good, continuing his onslaught of drilling your battered pussy. 

You moaned at the erotic scene, using every ounce of strength to keep yourself upright, your walls pulsing around Taehyung’s length as he thrusted harder and harder.

“Tae, fuck! I’ve always loved you, I always felt the same way, and I still do-ah!” Your lungs were tapping out when he suddenly shoved himself inside you to the brim, so utterly deep before he was thrusting again harshly, strangling out moans. 

Clear sweat was slick between your bodies, his huge, delicious cock incessantly tearing up your insides and all you could do was chant his name in pleasure, in bliss, in your love for him that was burning so bright it was nearly painful. 

“Y/N.. fuck. You’re ruining me. You’re so perfect, we’re so fucking perfect.” Taehyung was rambling at this point as his speed reflected his desperation, his immeasurable feelings for you. 

He was trying his damn hardest to distract himself from the release aching his balls. He was growing weak himself, feeling you reciprocate his rough thrusts by fucking him back the same way. And the image in the window? Had him reeling, needing to hear the most beautiful sound you’d make when you finally came, and he knew you would, bordering the precipice with the way your walls pulsed around him. 

Watching Taehyung fuck you in the window was now downright sinful to you, his harsh thrusts completely blissful and his hand gently squeezing at your throat was so dominant, so hot you were at your limit and ready to come. 

But what ended up sending you over, pushing you to release the tightening knot in your stomach was the sweet, tender way Taehyung began kissing your neck. 

The contrast between his cock abusing you and his plush lips kissing you so gently, so lovingly, it wasn’t long before you realized his fucking wasn’t just hard or rough, but full of sheer want, desire, love in all the right ways your walls were clenching around him rapidly in seconds. 

And when Taehyung angled himself somehow deeper, in that one, perfect spot, you clamped down and finally came so hard you saw stars, knew you’d completely drenched his cock with the loudest release of his name you were glad it was the only word you knew in this moment. 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.” Taehyung breathed out in exhaustion, began soothing your abdomen with one hand and the other letting your head finally hang, grip loosened from around your throat and you could finally allow air back into your lungs. 

You were heaving when you spoke up, realizing something. “Inside me.. Taehyung.” You were dreary, utterly gone, but it still didn’t distract you from the blissful feeling of Taehyung’s cock deliciously stuffed and throbbing inside you, trying to coax his rightful release. “Cum inside me, Tae. Please, fill me up.” 

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice when his cock worked a few more rough strokes into your tightened pussy and finally, finally came inside you. It was laced with a satisfied groan of your name, his grip on your side so intense you’d be glad if he left marks, wanting to remember every last bit of this night with Taehyung. 

He painted you completely white inside, spilling everything he could offer into you, using what little strength he had left to hold you up while he continued to empty his seed inside. Taehyung then lost all function and allowed you to fall, his broad body resting on top of yours as you both hit the mattress. 

Your chests rose and fell shallowly, completely taxed and having lost every ounce of strength. Taehyung’s hot breaths for air were fanning your neck, your arms sprawled out before you as Taehyung’s hands mindlessly interlaced with them against the tousled covers, cock still stuffing you whole. 

It was another moment of breathing and regaining oxygen when Taehyung suddenly kissed the side of your neck, giving your hands a small squeeze before you felt him lifting himself, his warmth disappearing and you panicked. 

“Where are you going?” Your throat was hoarse from screaming and moaning, a tinge of sadness to your tone as though he was leaving you, and Taehyung couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be right back.” He smiled, moving your hair from the side of your face to plant a kiss to your cheek, post-sex haze racking his brain though allowing reality to leak back into his mind. 

He then carefully, slowly pulled himself out of you, you whining at the loss of him and Taehyung smiled to himself in contentment, smoothing over your lower back with a palm in gratitude, before stepping towards his bathroom. 

He’d pulled his boxers back on and returned with a damp cloth, finding you still flipped and laying on your stomach, having dozed off in exhaustion until you felt Taehyung’s warmth and heard his dulcet voice hazing you awake. 

“Y/N, turn over for me.” His voice was hushed and tender, you complying by turning onto your back with his help. He then carefully swept the cloth against your battered core, you wincing a little with sensitivity and Taehyung made sure to clean more gently. 

The cloth was thrown back into his bathroom when he turned back to you, an arm thrown over your tear-stained face and the other clutching your body, clearly shivering in the cold now.

Taehyung easily scooped you into his arms and lifted you off the bed, carrying you over to his pillows and delicately placing you upon his duvet, pulling the covers out from underneath you and tucking you into his bed. 

You curled up into his blanket, Taehyung searching through his drawers for a stray t-shirt you could wear. He then lifted you into a sitting position, your eyes evidently sleepy and body limp as he pulled the shirt onto you, letting you fall back in place. 

Taehyung could only chuckle to himself thinking he did mean to ruin you, but not so harshly you were devoid of consciousness. He placed a little kiss to your forehead in apology, wiping some of the tears off your face before he rounded the bed, crawling in next to you.

His arms reached out to pull your back snug against his chest, feeling the sleep in the back of his eyes take him. He basked in the strawberry scent of your hair, completely gratified until you suddenly turned over towards him. 

His eyes shot open, only the top of your head coming into view as you nuzzled into his warm chest, your small self all tucked into Taehyung as he wrapped his arms around you like a safety net, holding you near.

And in that moment, all he could focus on was your light breathing, the sweet sound of your voice as you suddenly spoke in the dark of the night, moonlight glowing upon your entangled bodies. 

“I love you, Taehyung.” 

He grinned, the kind where he felt relieved, fulfilled, in a state of sheer bliss it was a moment before he replied, his own voice calm as you felt the hum through his chest, his hand tangled in your hair. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

The morning sun bled into Taehyung’s room, your eyes fluttering open at a time you had no concept of. You stirred, finding yourself still in Taehyung’s arm, in relatively the same position from last night. You didn’t even feel like moving from his hold, the feeling so utterly fuzzy and comforting. 

You basked in the sensation until he began to stir next to you, pretty eyelashes batting as his eyes fluttered open. His sights fell to you, eyes adorably taken by sleep while his soft hair was endearingly mussed by his pillow. You smiled at him warmly as he grinned back.

“Good morning.” you said shyly, nearly hiding underneath his covers. 

“Good morning.” 

You then flopped onto your back peering up at the ceiling, last night coming back to you in dream-like flashes you were surprised was somehow your reality. 

It was just miraculous, utterly unbelievable until Taehyung turning into your side and snuggling his face into your neck was evidence everything was real, that he was real. It wasn’t some remnant of a dream or hallucination, but the real Taehyung as his arm draped over your stomach. 

You had to bite your lip to contain your happiness, utter exuberance the universe had somehow finally paired you and him together, and funnily enough, on Christmas of all days. 

“What are you thinking about, princess?” Taehyung hummed into your collarbone inquisitively, half asleep as he cuddled you. 

You smiled, basking in his comfort. “Merry Christmas, Taehyung.” 

Taehyung chuckled against you, arm pulling you closer to him as he kissed your neck. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.” 

“Can you believe we met each other again during Christmas? It’s like the perfect Christmas miracle.” You marveled in wonder, tracing your finger along Taehyung’s pretty hand on your stomach. 

“I mean, you know what Andy Williams said..” He mused next to you, husky voice laden with sleep. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

[deeahzee]

clouis getting a puppy

AWWWW FUCK YEAH THANK YOU ANON

(making these hcs) (takes place post s4)

———

“Oh Cleeeem!”

Whenever Clementine heard her boyfriend call out like that, there were two possibilities at hand.

One; Louis had planned a romantic date out in the fields away from the school with fireflies soaring around them and heavily expired champagne in cracked wine glasses.

Or two; Louis had done something super idiotic, either getting himself hurt or breaking something of some value, and was going to request to Clem for help.

But for this case? Clementine wasn’t expecting what was thrown at her.

Louis had strolled into the dorm room like normal, his head held up high.

His constantly present smile remained to be present on his face too, which always made Clementine feel happy from within.

But there was something odd about him today. Very odd.

At first Clementine couldn’t figure what it was.

It wasn’t the way he walked in, he usually strolled into the room like any human being would.

His expression didn’t seem off to her either, whenever he was around the girl he was always in a cheerful mood.

So what was the source that was making this feeling grow inside of Clementine?

The more she stared at Louis, the more she began to notice what was shedding off that abnormal vibe.

Something about his trenchcoat. It was a lot larger than Clem last remembered.

It was like something had enlarged right near his chest. Was this something to be concerned about? Clem had no idea.

A brow raised, Clementine rose from the mattress of her bunk, wobbling only a smidge due to the new prosthetic Willy had carved out for her. “You’re back early. Earlier than I thought you’d be back.”

“Indeed I am,” Louis responded with a smile, his hands pressed up to the spot where Clementine had noticed the clump in his coat. “Aasim and I found enough food for tonight so we just decided to come back, and on the way we ran into something.”

The mention of that caused Clementine to freeze on the spot. “Ran into something?” Her voice trembled lightly. Hearing such news was never a good sign.

“Yep! But don’t worry, it wasn’t anything bad,” Louis quickly added, noticing the fear smoking out of his girlfriend’s mouth.

If it wasn’t anything bad, then what was it?

Soon the freckled boy unraveled one side of his coat, and what Clementine saw was something she was not expecting.

A small animal, easily identified as a puppy, was resting inside of Louis’ coat, its eyes fluttering open and letting out a tiny yawn, waking up from an afternoon nap.

Its fur was a shiny, metallic black. It stood out so much, including the pup’s icy blue eyes.

The dog didn’t even look to be three months old yet. It was still quite young.

Clementine expected to be scared of the sight of an animal hiding itself in her boyfriend’s trenchcoat, but when her golden orbs caught sight of the precious little puppy inside, she couldn’t help but let out a soft, adoring gasp.

“Isn’t she cute?” Louis moved his towards the dog, taking the pup in his palms and freeing her from the warm paradise known as his coat. “Aasim spotted her just laying down near one of the traps, and I of course couldn’t leave her behind.”

“She’s so little...” Clementine inched closer, smiling when the puppy stuck out her tiny tongue. “She was alone?”

“Yep, alone as can be,” A frown soon slid into place onto Louis’ face. “We couldn’t find anyone else. No mom, no dad, hell we couldn’t even find any siblings. Just her and the fearful world full of nasty dead things.”

A frown had made its way onto the brunette’s face as well. “That’s awful...”

“I know right?” Louis set the black furred puppy down, watching her waddle around and getting a sense of her new surroundings. “We can keep her, right?” He immediately asked, his heels nearly bouncing off the wood floors.

Clementine rose a brow, but couldn’t stop the smile forming on her face. “Is Rosie not good enough for you?”

“I love Rosie, don’t get me wrong, but she’s getting old. She’s not as fun as she used to be.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Fine, we can keep her.”

“Fuck yes-!”

“On one condition.” Clementine cut him off with a smug smirk.

Uh oh. Here we go.

Gulping, Louis turned to his girlfriend. “And that is...?” He hesitantly asked, obvious fear tickling at the edge of his tongue.

“I need a kiss.” She simply stated.

Louis’ shoulders deflated. It was obvious he wasn’t expecting that to come out of Clementine’s mouth.

A kiss? Just a simple kiss?

“Oh. That’s it?” He asked, confused as ever.

Clementine nodded swiftly. “Yep. Just a kiss, that’s all.”

The freckled boy stared at the girl in front of him. Something seemed off about her request. “I sense a catch around the corner. Where is it?” He began scanning the room.

Clementine snickered. “There’s no catch Lou, I just want a kiss. Right here,” She gestured to her cheek.

Louis shifted his eyes back to his girlfriend, a smile happily resting on his face. “Alright, I can do that.”

And with that, Louis leaned in to place the kiss onto her cheek.

But before his lips could land onto the girl’s cheek, an idea suddenly formed into his mind, causing him to halt in his tracks and his smile forming into more of a smirk.

Clementine shifted her head over to see her boyfriend paused inches away from her face. “Uh... Lou? You good?”

All of a sudden the boy slid his hands onto her waist, making the brunette’s eyes widen.

Clem’s mouth open to say something but was interrupted by being suddenly dipped down near the floor, Louis’ lips crashing onto her own.

The kiss was so sudden and so powerful Clementine didn’t even know what to think.

Her face was like a ripe cherry, her eyes were wide as ever.

She was so in shock she nearly forgot to kiss back.

Thankfully, she snapped out of her flustered trance just in time, her eyes fluttering shut and kissing the boy back.

A low moan escaped her lips as she did so, her hands distracted themselves by gliding them down his arms while Louis’ cupped her face.

Much to their disappointment, the kiss was soon ended, thanks to their new family member’s quite loud vocal pipes cutting the heavily romantic silence.

The two awkwardly laughed once catching sight of the hyper pup staring at them with hints of both confusion and annoyance in her eyes, Louis lifting Clementine back up so she could stand properly.

“Darn, right when we were getting somewhere.” Louis piped up, fake annoyance slipping off his tongue.

Clementine scoffed playfully at his words, a sly smile forming on her face. “What does that mean?”

The freckled boy grinned. “Oh nothing.”

“Nooo, tell me!”

“Nope! My lips are sealed and locked tight m’lady!” He made a zipper motion along his lips, securing the end with a nonexistent key and lock.

Clementine snorted. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“That’s true, but guess what? You love this weirdo.”

“Yeah... I do. I really, really do.”

[confused-android]

DGHDAtober, day 2: Farah - Dance.

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

"I don't  – I don't dance," Farah says, hand immediately slipping into her right jacket pocket. Her keys are in there, and she holds them tightly.

I have my keys, I don't have to stay anywhere I don't want to stay. I can always go home. I have my phone, I have my wallet. I'm not stuck anywhere.

"That's not what you said last year," Dirk reminds her in a sing-song voice. "You danced at the festival and back at the station."

"That was different," she says, running her keys through her fingers. Three keys, four keys, five keys, and brass knuckles. Three keys, four keys, five keys, and brass knuckles. "I was under the influence of a spell. That's not the same as choosing to dance. I choose to – to not dance."

"It's a club, though," Todd says awkwardly. He understands. Dirk has never been self-conscious a day in his life, but Todd knows what it's like to feel constantly judged. He's usually the one judging himself, but he knows. "And everyone who reported seeing the, uh, the ghost, they were all on the dance floor."

"I know that," Farah snaps. "But I can, I can watch from the side, and provide backup for when one of you sees the ghost. If it is actually a ghost."

"It's a ghost," Dirk says confidently. "I'm sure of it."

"I don't want to know why you're so sure," Todd wearily. Dirk opens his mouth and Todd holds up one hand. "No, seriously – I don't want to know if you have ever seen a ghost before. I just don't."

"We have to dance," Dirk says. "That's the only way we'll get to the bottom of this. Besides, we could use a night out!"

Farah looks out the window and hopes that they can't see her eyelid twitching.

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

Amanda bursts into her apartment, ten minutes before they're due to meet Dirk and Todd in the lobby, and immediately says, "no way. You're not going out in this."

"What? Yes – yes I am. This is a perfectly practical outfit." She's wearing boots with a low heel, stretch jeans, and a button down blouse with enough give at the bust that she can throw a punch without worrying about popping a button.

"Yeah. It's practical," Amanda says, sweeping past Farah and into her bedroom. "That's the problem. You look like you're ready for a fight."

"I'm always ready for a fight," Farah protests.

"You can't look ready for a fight at Le'Etage." Amanda throws open Farah's closet, pulls open all of the drawers of her dresser, and starts rummaging through her clothes, tossing a few garments on the bed. "There's a dress code. If you're not classy enough, they won't let you in."

"That wasn't in my research!" She's touching my clothes, she's touching my clothes, but I can fix it later, I can sanitize them, I can iron them. She's touching my clothes but it's okay. It's Amanda and it's okay.

"It's a Saturday night," Amanda explains, rifling through Farah's underwear drawer. "Most clubs get, like, fancier on the weekends." Finally satisfied, Amanda shoves an outfit at Farah's chest, and throws the rejected clothes onto the chair by Farah's bed. Farah's fingers twitch, eager to shakes out the wrinkles and hang the clothes back up, but there simply isn't time. She settles for shooting a dark look at Amanda, now poking through her make-up bag, and unbuttoning her blouse.

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

"Where is she?" Dirk frets, looking at his phone. "She's never late, and we're never early, so I'm concerned that something genuinely terrible has – Farah?" His voice rises in an astonished squeak, and Todd turns around to see what his boyfriend is staring at.

"Damn," he blurts, then claps a hand over his mouth. "Sorry," he mutters, from between his fingers.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Farah mutters, arms crossed beneath her breasts. She's still wearing her practical boots, but now she's got on a black leather mini skirt with blue floral tights, an orange tank top, and a sheer blue scarf knotted around her neck. She's got a thigh holster for her phone and wallet and the black leather strap peeks out from beneath her skirt, framing the musculature of her thigh.

"I have literally no reason to laugh," Todd assures her, dropping his hand. "You look, uh, you look amazing. Like – wow."

"Ew," Amanda says, coming up behind Farah. "A) I didn't need to hear that, and B) what the hell are you wearing?"

Farah brushes past all three of them, pulls out her phone to call a Lyft, ignores the bickering behind her. They need to get to the club and find this ghost so she can come back home and get out of these clothes and never speak of this again.

It's for a case. It's for a case, and I don't have to dance. I look ridiculous but it's for a case, and it's okay, and I don't have to dance. It's okay, I don't have to dance, and it will be okay. It will be okay.

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

They get past the bouncer without much trouble, though Todd has to slip her a twenty to excuse his jeans. Farah bitterly glares at his back, wishes she were still wearing her jeans, know that their group wouldn't have gotten in with two members in casual wear. Once they're in the door, Todd steers her directly towards the bar in the back, and makes her order herself two whiskey gingers.

"I can't get drunk tonight," she scolds him, paying for the drinks anyway. "We're here to investigate, not to party."

"You're way too tense to blend in," he explains. "It's not like you're a lightweight – you just need to chill out a little bit." He turns back to the bar to order some insufferably bitter beer, and she drains the first glass in one long swallow, eager to get one hand free.

Oh crap, this is strong. This is a nice club, they don't water down the drinks; am I going to get drunk? No, no I'm not. I'm not going to get drunk, Todd is right, I'm not a light weight. This is fine. This is fine.

Farah sets the empty glass back down on the bar and tips the bartender, and allows Todd to tow her to an open spot by the wall. She tugs her skirt down a smidge and tries to lean casually, but feels like her skin in buzzing. The music is loud and the beat is palpable in her lungs and stomach, and the dance floor is filled with people moving and writhing, jumping and grinning and spinning and holding.

"I guess it looks fun," she mutters, mostly to herself, but Todd laughs kindly.

"No it doesn't," he says, and she's reminded that he understands her. Kind of.

Todd hates himself. He's working on it, and dating Dirk and working for the agency are incredibly good for him, but he made years of bad choices, and the consequences are still catching up to him. Farah doesn't hate herself, per se, but she doesn't always like herself very much. Years of knowing, knowing that she's a disappointment doesn't vanish in six months of embracing her inner freak, and there's always a little voice in the back of her head repeating What would dad think? This isn't appropriate behavior for a professional, and I have to try harder to be better to earn his approval.

It means that she and Todd end up second guessing themselves on a regular basis. If they can jump in the deep end of a case, instinct takes over and they don't worry about what other people think, how they're behaving, how they're perceived. But if given a few minutes to stew, Todd will spiral down into hopelessness and Farah will work herself up into a tizzy. They're sure a hell of a pair.

A flash of the familiar catches her eye, and Farah squints into the crowd until she spots Amanda and Dirk. They haven't stopped by the bar, haven't imbibed at all, but they're both dancing joyfully. Sometimes holding hands and jumping around, sometimes spinning around each other, sometimes grinning at strangers and pulling them in, dancing with them. Farah looks over at Todd to see how he feels about watching his boyfriend dance with a muscly ginger man, but he's just smiling fondly, sipping his beer.

He catching Farah looking over at him and shrugs. "He likes dancing and I like watching him do things he likes," Todd explains awkwardly. "And I usually don't have to dance, so that works out pretty well for us.

"That's – that’s fine," she says. "I mean, I don't get it, but I get it, you know?"

"I know," he says, and finishes his beer. "Come on, drink up. Let's see how painless we can make this."

This is awful. I don't want to dance. I'm going to look like an idiot, I'm going to move my body the wrong way, and I am going to stand out in the crowd, and I'm going to give away the whole case. The ghost – it can't be a ghost, it can't be a ghost – will know that I'm a detective and it will stay away tonight and we'll have to come back and do this again. I can't do this again. I can't. I don't want to dance.

She throws back the rest of her whiskey ginger, places the empty low ball on a nearby high top, and lets Todd drag her into the crowd.

It's exactly as crowded and hot and close as it looks from the outside. There are people all around her and she has no idea who is at her back, who's near her blind spots, what their capabilities are, what their motivations are. It's almost enough to overwhelm her, to make her chest tighten and her shoulders tense, but the fizz of alcohol hitting her system seems to be just strong enough to keep her breathing, keep her moving. She and Todd reach Dirk and Amanda, and the two of them shout in delight.

"Farah," gushes Dirk, patting her upper arm enthusiastically. "I'm so excited you're here! Did Todd get you soused?"

"Shut up," hisses Amanda, but loudly enough to be heard over the music. "She wasn't supposed to know that was the plan."

"You guys aren't that subtle," Farah says dryly.

And then the current song ends and spins seamlessly into a new one, and Amanda reaches forward to yank Farah's elbow and she's dancing. Well, she's moving in the awkward two-step that every middle school dance chaperone knows so well, but at least she isn't standing out in the crowd as much as she would if she were solitary.

This is fine. I just need to keep moving so I don't stick out, and everything will be fine. I don't have to look good, I just need to dance. I don't want to dance, I don't want to be here, but this will be fine. This is fine. This is fine.

Dirk and Amanda seem to have abandoned their non-agency dance partners, and form a defensive square with Todd and Farah; it's easier, honestly, when the three people that she can see most clearly are also the three people that she cares the most about. Amanda isn't in town very often, and to see her looking almost carefree – it's really refreshing. They usually only get to interact when the threat of violence is imminent. Not that the threat of violence isn't imminent now, too, but it feels… it feels okay.

This is okay. This is okay.

The stilted two-step lasts through a few songs as the buzz in her veins rises and then settles into a comfortable warmth. Her muscles loosen and her smile becomes less of a grimace, less forced. Dirk has seized Todd and is moving all around him, treating him as a bit of a mobile prop, and Farah finds herself laughing at the tolerant expression on Todd's face. Her shoulders drop from their defensive stance, and as the beat spins through her chest, her arms start to move along with her legs, and her torso feels more fluid in its presence. There's an unexpected sensation of grace that runs down her spine, and Farah realizes that it feels almost like a flow of fighting stances. One pose moves into another moves into a third; her feet don't trip, she doesn't hit anyone else, she's aware of everything around her. Proprioception works as well for dancing as it does for training, as it does for fighting, and she's good at those things.

She's good at this.

The voice that's always muttering in her ears, worrying, tells her that she still probably looks stupid, that she isn't blending in, that this is unsafe. But the voice that she feels streaming in from her fingers and ears and hips tell her that she's smooth and sharp. Says that she looks deadly, in a good way. Says that this is a place she can also belong. That she does belong.

Farah dances.

Farah dances, and she looks good and she feels good and she is so, so good.

Three songs run into five songs run into seven. She’s sweating and she dances with Amanda and Dirk and Todd and by herself. She throws her head back  – never unaware, never uncareful, but joyful  – and dances.

Naturally, that's when the ghost attacks, and Farah smiles radiantly and lets the beat spin through her. Let’s go.

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

Link to: day one, Farah - Youth

[stillness-in-green]

What other mechas series to you seeing working in a crossover with Iron Blooded Orphans ? By Crossover I mean fanfic stories.

A tricky question for me because, to be quite frank, I watch quite little in the way of mecha shows--I don’t care at all about giant robots just for the sake of giant robots.  I have very sporadic exposure to Gundam and Macross, and even less beyond that.  A smidge of Code Geass or Valvrave here, some Patlabor or Gunbuster there, some watching the boyfriend play Super Robot Wars, some fantasy robots from Rayearth over on the sidelines, Evangelion floating around as the background noise of an anime fan’s life...  I’ve seen bits and pieces of lots of things, but generally speaking, they don’t leave such a huge impact on me that I could talk sensibly how their casts, technology level, general ethos, robot scale, and so on would intersect with IBO’s, much less choose multiple ones!

That said, I have a few thoughts.  Honestly, these are more shows I think would work as tonal fusions--I couldn’t begin to tell you how I think the casts would interact, and in not a single case have I watched these all the way to the end, so I definitely couldn’t tell you what kind of plot snares you might hit.  That said, they have enough thematic similarities that I think Tekkadan could find a place in them somewhere.

-Flag is dry as hell, but would find some common ground in the way people like McGillis, Kudelia and Rustal use knowledge of symbols--and the power of media access--to manipulate public opinion while the schlubs on the ground are stuck fighting to the death over ideas that are much bigger than they are.  

-VOTOMS is grotty, wide-lens space empire conspiracy that would not, I don’t think, fit at all into IBO’s milieu--but CGS/Tekkadan could probably be plucked out intact from IBO and set down somewhere in one of VOTOMS’ colorful backwater locations (each inevitably doomed to be burned to the ground when its plot arc is over) and fit right in.  Chirico’s general storyline of being a skilled but not particularly ranked grunt soldier doing his thing when he trips into a conspiracy and then being obliged to unravel the whole of it and stay alive long enough to do so when several different factions would be just as happy to ice him meshes well with Tekkadan latching onto Kudelia and then just trying to keep up as their world gets more and more complicated.  Akihiro in particular is practically a VOTOMS character already.

-The IBO High School AU, except it’s the plot of Rideback.  You can’t deny Orga’s got a hell of a physique for ballet.

[tumbler-tidbits]

March 2019

Here is March’s Fic Recs, I know I’m two days late...sue me! Anywho there is a mix of fluff, smut, angst, and crack. ENJOY!

1)I See You Left A Mark, Up And Down The Skin by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Link: HERE

Summary: see link

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: sexting, dirty talk, Dom Sam Winchester (PART 2) angst, ass play, bondage, no condoms, thorough winchester fucking, SAMHANDLING (PART 3) hand around the throat and over the mouth and nose (DO NOT DO THIS UNLESS YOU KNOW WTF YOU’RE DOING), angst, no condoms, thorough winchester fucking™ SAMHANDLING.

My Review: Oh sweet Jesus this three part series has it all! Angst, a smidge of fluff, and Oh so sexy smut! Part 2 is my favorite, but all three are definitely panty ruiners!

2)Midnight Blue by @rockhoochie

Link:HERE

Summary: Sherriff Hanscum begged the Winchesters to help Y/N with this case. With the threat neutralized and a night off, Sam and Y/N put their free time to good use. For one night, the hours they spend together are full of delight, passion, and fulfilled fantasies – a night that neither of them saw coming or would soon forget.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, Light (but very sweet) dom!Sam, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, spanking, orgasm delay/denial, fingering, squirting, M/F oral, a little angst, a little fluff, and various and sundry smutty smut smut, age gap (reader is 22).

My Review: This Fic was so fucking amazing! Precise and descriptive words paint an amazingly vivid picture that fills all your senses! You can actually see, hear, smell, and feel the things going on between the reader and Sam! I could be biased since this fic hit nearly all my kinks *fans self* but indulge in this extremely passionate sensory experience for yourself and read it!!

3)Bruised by @wayward-and-worn

Link:HERE

Summary: Dean learns that girls have sensitive parts.    

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: PWP.  Oral sex.

My Review: This is oddly sweet and fluffy with a hen pecking Dean, and absolutely fucking hilarious at the same time 😂😂 I love it!

4)Not Letting Go by @kittenofdoomage

Link:HERE

Summary: Reuniting with the Winchesters brings an unexpected change, one they’re going to need to help you with.

Pairing: Alpha!Sam x reader, Alpha!Dean x reader

Warnings: Smut, first time, knotting, unexpected presentation, threesome, unprotected sex, marking, this is probably more on the Sam centric side!

My Review: Whoo! I love a good A/B/O fic and this one is delicious! Just enough smut to please you and leave you begging for more!

5)Not a Fish by @bamby0304

Link:HERE

Summary: All fears should be faced… but not yours, and not today.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Crack?? Thalassophobia.

My Review: This is so sweet and fluffy! Just a quick heart warmer 🥰

6)I’ve Got You by @winchesterprincessbride

Link:HERE

Summary: None

Pairing: Sam and Reader (brief Dean)

Warnings: Angst (it’s sad y’all), death.

My Review: Just a quick beautiful drabble to leave you’re heart shattered 😖

7)Cookie Monster by @67midnightwriter

Link:HERE

Summary: None. 777 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean x Cas

Warnings: lots o’ smut. Implied squirting. Gang bang, butt stuff.

My Review: Jesus this one is fucking hot!! And Logan leaves you with a surprise ending. She claims she doesn’t write smut...I call her a lying biatch😘

8)The Maddening Empty by @impala-dreamer

Link:HERE

Summary: None

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Thigh Riding. Bit o’ Dom!Dean Action. Dirty Talk.

My Review: whew. I don’t know if it’s my praise!kink or my dom!kink but this little number right here had me wishing I waited to read until after work! This ones a panty ruiner folks!

9)Holding On by @idreamofplaid

Link:HERE

Summary: Sam’s life as a hunter is taking a toll on him. The reader refuses to be scared away.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: angst; a little smut; spoilers for season 13

My Review: This is so beautiful and so painful I was teary eyed! They never really show us how the boys deal with their inner demons on the show, but Robin does a phenomenal job of painting that picture!

10)Notes by @kittenofdoomage

Link:HERE

Summary: Your secret Tumblr blog has been rumbled… but who’s the culprit behind the notes you keep finding?

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Sam

Warnings: Smut, threesome, pretty much just pornyMcporn over here. Unprotected sex, double penetration, anal, oral.

My Review: JFC this piece is a dream come true! What would you do if Sam and Dean discovered your smutty fanfiction? Well this hot little number lets you know exactly what they would do!

11)Boyfriend and Girlfriend by @squirrel-moose-winchester

Link:HERE

Summary: It all started over a stupid popular kid’s party. Y/N had been left stranded and luckily, Sam was there to the rescue. The next day, Sam abruptly announces that he and Y/N are dating, much to Y/N’s and everyone else’s surprise. Come along for the ride, in their journey to figure things out! Being a teenager isn’t as easy at it seems.

Pairing: High School!Sam x High School!Reader

Warnings: Each chapter will have their own individual warning label, for I have no idea where this series will take me.

My Review: I love this series so much!! I love the AU that Eileen has created and how she has incorporated the characters and Story we love! Seriously so great and so imaginative! One minute I’m going “awe“ then I’m about to cry and then I’m laughing hysterically. Go check it out folks there is more to come!

12)Apple of My Eye by @bamby0304

Link:HERE

Summary: When Sam and Dean were pulled back into their world, you were left behind. Stuck in the hustle bustle of Hollywood life, you have no choice but to play along, leaving almost all of your old life behind. Seven years later when a rip in time and space opens up, you are finally able to go home… but you don’t go alone.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. Angst. Panic attacks. Anxiety. Fluff. Drama. Smut. Each chapter will have its own warnings.

My Review: This series is so fluffy and sweet, with a smidge of angst, and a dash of smut! I binged the whole thing in one night and Ambers not done yet! Go give it a read.

13)Driving Miss Baby by @evansrogerskitten

Link:HERE

Summary: Things don’t go so well when the new female damages Baby.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, cursing

My Review: ok in my opinion this piece is hilarious! I have never read a piece from Baby’s point of view as a car. It different, interesting, and funny as hell!

14)Dean’s Girls by @ladywinchester1967

Link:HERE

Summary: None

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Dad!Dean, smut, fluff, lovely dovey stuff. 

My Review: This is such a sweet fluffy little heart warmer and them things quickly have you sweating lol. This is the life we all wish for Dean Winchester.

15)Not Your Normal Vet by @acreativelydifferentlove

Link:HERE

Summary: your dog is unwell and a trip to the vet is in order.

Pairing: Veterinarian!Sam x Reader

Warnings: asshole ex, sick dog

My Review: This is so sweet and fluffy!! I love my fur babies and their care means so much to me! I love my vet but he’s no Sam Winchester! Seriously tooth rotting!!

Taglist:  @idreamofplaid  @dean-winchesters-bacon  @maddiepants  @pisces-cutie​ @covered-byroses @currentlyfangirling99  @spnmightkillme @spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting  @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @xxhalfbloodprincessxx @supernaturalsammy01  @sammyimpala-67 @lunarboycas​  @ladywinchester1967 @sweetiepie-dean  @fangirl-forevers-world @thoughtslikeaminefield @supernatural-teamfreewillpage​ @ruthiesconnells​ @bobasheebaby​ @evansrogerskitten  @missjenniferb​ @sculptorofbeginnings​ @kbl1313​ @spnskinnyballs @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @justcallmeasmodeus @ain-t-bovvered @purpleskiesandcherrypies @curly-haired-disaster @getnaildbyme @thoughtslikeaminefield @gripmetight-raisemefromperdition

[girlafraidinacoma]

In The Lap of the Gods: Chapter Six - Fanta-seas and Denial

Summary: What do you get when you mix a tight-knit art community, young, hot-blooded twenty-something university students and good old-fashioned British Rock & Roll? Probably the next best hope for art and music that generation has to offer. With her friends’ band skyrocketing to fame, what exactly does a girl do when she suddenly finds herself sitting in the lap of the gods? The answer: do the only thing she can do, rise to the occasion of course!

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Original Female Character

Author’s Note: Sorry, not sorry for the incredibly late update dudes. Was super uninspired for months, had a break down, got over it, bon appetit.

( gif credit goes to @queenmercurys.)

Kind of AU, contains both elements from real life and the Bo Rhap universe, so imagine whoever you prefer whether they be the real thing or the Bo Rhap Boys–be free.

[Link to Ao3 fic!]

Chapter Playlist:

Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell

Astral Weeks - Van Morrison

Chapter Six - Fanta-seas and Denial

Ealing, December 1969.

“You’re incorrigible. I’ll never finish at this rate!” Wyn cried, throwing her arms up.

“Nobody told you to leave it until the last minute to work on your project.” He grumbled. It seemed like only yesterday that she began her first day at the Ealing Technical College and School of Art, but December had finally crept in, summoning the looming toll of due dates and unfinished critical projects.

“I honestly didn’t mean to forget, I thought I’d still have a week, not three bloody days.” Wyn whimpered a little pathetically, feeling the mounting panic bubble inside at the thought of not submitting her work on time. Currently, they were seated on the floor at the centre of Wyn’s dorm room, the space her easel usually occupied, cutting out various images and words out of several dozen stacks of magazines, newspapers, catalogues and a charitable helping of Woman’s Weekly – courtesy of Jer Bulsara.

Wyn’s dorm was a site Freddie had quickly grown accustomed to during their past few months of friendship. He liked her place. Sure, there were several others that lived on her floor and there’s only the bare modicum of privacy, but it was a decently sized space for a dorm, generous even, were it not cramped with half-finished canvases and art materials at various stages of use. Despite this fact, Wyn had tried her very best to make it up as nice as she could without having to open a Better Homes magazine. It was a place of barely organized but brightly coloured chaos.

The room itself was divided into two halves, one half where she slept and lounged, and the other half reserved for her work. The narrow bed which she slept in had been pushed up flush against the far corner of the room for the spatial economy. There was an olive-green loveseat with faded upholstery situated opposite the bed, and next to it was her bookshelf (definitely someone’s previously discarded woodworking project), keeping her collection of vinyls, novels and art journals. The side of Wyn’s room that served as her work area had a very large window that provided her place with natural light from about six or seven in the morning to four in the afternoon. Beside the window was a small desk, perpetually cluttered with paper, and a heavy wooden trunk packed to the brim with art supplies. One would think she’d been living there forever with all the stuff she’d accumulated in the past four months; the result of which was an assemblage of mismatched furniture that on its own were rather forgettable or borderline hideous, but somehow miraculously worked together, grudgingly made ‘cool’ by the person inhabiting it.

“Now who’s incorrigible?” As much as Freddie teased, it only took about five minutes of begging and a promise to cover one of his shifts at the Kensington stall for Freddie to generously acquiesce his time to help her out with one of her class assessments, to her supreme relief.

“Besides, they only want proof of concept. The whole thing’s not due until the end of Christmas hols.” Wyn said, flipping to the next page.

“Sure, sure.” The man rolled his eyes, waving a large pair of shears around. “What’s the focus for this piece anyway?”

“Oh, you know, just a bit of social commentary about defining identity through materialism and the like.” She told him, picking up a scrap he’d just finished cutting out, “These little bits here, will eventually be put together and build up a face or whatever, then I think I’d slather some paint on it, use some charcoal and call it a day, probably.”

“Is it still Granger and Warton assessing?”

“Warton is on leave, taking the airs in Bournemouth. Connelly is subbing in.”

“Even better, Connelly likes anything that’s remotely opinionated. He’ll be eating this all up with his Sunday roast.” He laughed. It gave her that smidge more comfort to hear his approval and she told him just as much.

She and Freddie were both dutifully attending to their work when out of the blue, Freddie sniffs the air, saying: “Have I told you how much your room smells?”

“Oops,” The girl said sheepishly, “Sorry. Let me just open a window. Afraid I’ve gotten quite used to it.” Briefly, she pattered away from him to do just that, lighting a rosemary and orange-scented candle, a gift from an aunt who had taken up chandlery upon retirement.

“Yes, the smell of varnish does tend to make the uninitiated rather queasy.” He nodded. “Lucky for you, I know the smell intimately. Unlucky for you, it still makes me queasy. Unless… you’ve become a junkie, in which case there are better highs than paint fumes, my dear.” A hand rose to Freddie’s chest, playfully aghast.

Wyn shook her head with a laugh. “I don’t even realise sometimes, too stuck in my work.”

“Still, you should always remember to take care of yourself. What good is your art if you’re not there to appreciate it? I’d rather have you, than a painting.”

Wyn dropped the page she was holding and looked at him. “Always so sweet. Where would I be without you, my dearest Freddie?”

“Probably still glued to a wall in that function room with the horrible punch.” Fred snarked, letting out an inelegant snort in the magazine his face was buried in.

So far, they were amassing a pretty sizeable pile of clippings and Wyn wordlessly congratulated herself and Freddie for making progress, but the good feeling didn’t last long. The two had been quiet for a while, with only the sound of snipping and paper tearing to fill the silence when reluctantly Fred releases the lip he had been gnawing on for a solid two minutes and clears his throat. “I’ve got something to tell you,” He says, putting down the pair of scissors he was using. “Actually, I could use your opinion.”

Still focused on an area she was clipping, Wyn nodded. “Spill, it’s not like we’re going anywhere soon.”

He exhaled deeply and gave what could be likened to a formal announcement. “I’m thinking of seeing Mary. Scratch that, I’ve seen Mary and had a cup of coffee with her, and I’ve been thinking about doing that more.”

There was sudden a hush that came about the room and settled in like a third guest. It took her several moments to process and Wyn gently reminded herself to lower her pair of scissors, lest she accidentally hurt a friend. “Wait, Mary, as in 'the coat's BIBA', Mary? As in Brian’s Mary? That Mary?” She gauged him with a puzzled look.

“As in Brian’s ex-girlfriend, Mary Austin, Yes.” Freddie confirmed, not blinking.

“So, you want to go see Brian’s ex, that is what you’re saying?”

“Ex, being the operative word, but yes.”

“You don’t think that’ll put a wrench into things?” She asked with a furrowed brow. “Smile hasn’t even begun performing again yet with you as the lead. Do you understand where I’m coming from, how precarious your situation is?”

“I don’t know,” It was his turn to shrug, eyes large and expressive. “I think she’s sweet and gorgeous and she doesn’t mind my teeth. Wait, where did you hear about Brian and Mary anyway?”

Wyn shrugged, “Roger told me.”

“That gossiping cow.” Freddie scowled.

“Well, no, we were just talking and the subject came up,” Wyn said levelly, grabbing a new catalogue from the stack.

“Oh, it came up naturally, did it?” He asked, picking up his scissors and cutting the page he was on a tad aggressively. “Not that you were asking after a certain boy with a guitar, needling poor Roger until he revealed whether said boy was single or not?”

“No,” She denies, “Roger and I were just talking about that night at the bar, and he just happened to mention that until recently Brian had been seeing Mary and hinted that maybe Brian was still interested in seeing her.”

Freddie had narrowed his eyes. “And Roger told you that, did he? Are you sure this isn’t about you and Roger?”

Her head quirked. “Why would this be about me and Roger?”

Freddie laughed. “Maybe because Roger thinks you’re fit and he’s trying to eliminate the competition by hinting that one of his friends might be keen to reconnect with an ex so that you won’t consider that friend as a potential romantic partner?”

“Or, you’re spinning this intricate web because you’re in denial that Mary wants to be with Brian and continuing to see her might ruin your chances with the band?” She offered sweetly.

“Or, this is about you and Roger.” Wyn had to roll her eyes at that.

“This is so not about Roger.”

“Brian, then.”

“It’s not like that.” She shakes her head, eyes trailing to the ground.

Freddie was not convinced, “I saw you and Brian looking cozy together. In that booth, on the way home, going for a little shopping trip…”

“We went shopping to feed you!”

“It’s probably what set off Rog in the first place.” He said in sing-song.

“N-no, the man doesn’t even flirt with me--” She was growing exasperated quickly.

“So, you admit that you flirt with Roger all the time.” Freddie was a dog with a bone.

“That’s just the way we talk to each other! He just thinks it’s a bit of fun, and I’m not about to let him think he can get a rise out of me.” Freddie could have sworn her voice rose an octave.

"I think you have a crush on him."

"I do not have a crush on Brian."

"Who said anything about Brian?" Freddie cracked a devilish grin at having caught her out. He batted his eyes at her.

The girl, on the other hand, was at a loss for words, opening her mouth and closing it again a couple of times, before scoffing. “Oh, shut up. You haven’t proven anything. Go see Mary then if you’ve already made up your mind.” She resigned, covering her discomfort with a laugh. Wyn looked down and busied herself by neatening the growing pile of magazine and newspaper trimmings she was collecting, forcing her hair to fall and obscuring her face. She absolutely was not going to let her friend see the burning flush she was newly sporting.

Fred chuckled beside her, examining his manicured hand. "I honestly wonder what fantasy world you're living in, darling. You're so caught up in it."

Instead of answering him directly she chose to switch to diversionary tactics. "You say that like it's a bad thing, or like you're not right there with me. You're just as mad as me." She poked his cheek.

"True, darling." He conceded, "I definitely see the appeal; I mean who wouldn’t want to escape this old tedious business for one in a fantasy book?” Freddie sighed dreamily, “I say, human ingenuity peaked when we learned we could just imagine ourselves far away from here.”

The girl hummed, gladdened to finally be talking about something else again. “Where everything is weird and wonderful, and you finally belong…”

“You can be anyone you want to be.”

“And bugger the rules because there are none.” She supplied without missing a beat.

“Get out of my head, Wyn Clemens.” He chided her. “You know, this reminds me of when Kashmira and I used to spend all our time in the afternoons together lying on a dusty floor, making up crazy stories.”

A fond smile came over Wyn’s face. “Oh? What about?”

“Well, tis a tale of a long and arduous quest to save the magical Kingdom of Rhye,” He said indulgently, “Your usual fight between the forces of good and evil, brave knights, lavish castles, rival queens, and a sprinkling of anthropomorphic animals.”

“Ah, but of course! I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She leaned back and drew her legs under her chin. “Pray tell then, merry minstrel, regale me with the story of Rhye.”

Freddie sat a little more upright in his spot, his teeth showing in a big smile. “Alright, so, it all began when the White Queen was abducted from her castle. Now in hopes to rescue her, her brother, the handsome Prince, scours all the land gathering knights…”

Wyn had already forgotten they had been arguing not two minutes ago. It was like that with her and Freddie, they never could stay cross with one another for long, always managing to read what the other was thinking. It was shocking how close the two had gotten in such a short span of time. Suddenly the prospect of Freddie graduating brought a sinking feeling to Wyn’s chest. She silently hoped he’d still have time for her, or would deign to remain her friend. The future always seemed so unsteady. Standing on its precipice, Wyn supposed that if she’d have to drink some horrible punch at some mediocre party, she’d rather be suffering through it with him than without him.

[lintheotaku]

Watched Anime Genre

Watched List: Isekai 2016-Present 

Anime:  The Rising of the Shield Hero 

Plot:  Naofumi Iwatani is an otaku that is summoned through a book as 1 of 4 heroes to the world of Melromarc, to stop the Waves from destroying the world. Betrayal and ruined reputation causes Naofumi to be shunned by the people of Melromarc as well as the other heroes, forcing him to fight the Waves in his own way, all because he bares the shield. Pros: One of the more unique isekai animes out there. Instead of just one hero, there are four heroes, each from different versions of Japan. Instead of having a quirk or completely overpowered from the beginning, the main is instead knocked down to his lowest, resulting his not so heroic approach to situations. Gradually he begins to trust those closest to him and out of the bunch, he is the most grounded person and grasps reality far better than his fellow heroes. Cons: Pacing can feel a bit slow in the anime since there is a lot of small things building up before you get to the next big thing.(omg I want to knock some sense into the other heroes) And the anime tends to throw in a tad more details to make it feel as those Naofumi has a harem than it really is. (the one filler moment actually contradicts a detail the following canon scene) Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡ [4.5/5] Comments: With the pacing, it’s perhaps better to be reading the manga. And since this is originally a Light Novel, I HIGHLY recommend watching AniNews’s youtube channel on Rising of the Shield Hero: Skipped Content as it helps fill in gaps not placed in the manga and/or anime. 

Andddd I really can’t wait for the Scythe Hero to appear in ep 22<3

Anime: KonoSuba: God's Blessing On This Wonderful World! Plot: “When high schooler Kazuma Satou dies, his given the choice to be reincarnated in a fantasy world much like a video game and be granted one item or ability. But can a dimwitted Goddess, explosion craze crimson demon,  masochist crusader, and a lucky/unlucky adventurer to defeat the Devil King?” Pros: A very clever and humorous adventure with a group of misfits. Cons: There were a few points that felt a bit much or overly done. *cough*Aqua*cough* but luckily goes back into genuinely funny scenes. Too easily can turn into perverted moments for a non harlem type series. Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡ [4/5] Personal Thoughts: Honestly can’t help comparing Megumin’s ability to another light novel character. Agnis, from Adventures of Duan Surk, a fire sorceress that can only use high level fire magic and passes out after each use.  Except in Megumin’s case it’s Explosion magic. Besides that, and the quite troublemaking goddess- this series is unique enough as a comedy of misfits trying to live in a fantasy RPG world.

Anime: Re:Zero - Starting Life in Another World Plot:  “ With the biggest crisis of his life being summoned to another world and no sign of the one who summoned him, things become worse when he is attacked. However, when he is saved by a mysterious silver-haired girl with a fairy cat, Subaru cooperates with the girl to return the favor.” Pros: A series with mix of carefree moments as well as suspenseful.  Cons: Subaru can have some very unlikable moments, other times you can feel your heart being torn to shreds to the point you wonder how would you fair in his shoes. Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡ [4/5] Comments: Seriously Sabaru- Forget Emilia and go for waifu-Rem! TTATT

Anime: Saga Of Tanya The Evil Plot:  “An unnamed atheist Japanese salaryman, in the moment of being murdered by a disgruntled subordinate who he had fired due to poor performance at work, is confronted by a entity that could stop time which he refers to as "Being X" or god, who condemns the man for not having 'faith'. He is sentenced to be reborn in a world that is similar to World War I Europe, mixed with early aspects of World War II and magic, in an empire torn apart by countless wars with all nearby countries.”  Pros: Seeing the main getting bested and even frighten by “Being X” in an endless mind game while in a world in middle of war. Cons: ... uh what else is there to this series? Like how is the plot still moving? Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡  ♡ [3/5] Comments:  I’m not much into war types but this was alright I suppose. Not terrible, not a fave, and not memorable.

Anime: Overlord Plot: “When the shut-down time arrives, Momonga finds that the game hasn't vanished. Instead it appears as if Yggdrasil has been recreated as its own reality along with its various NPCs having been brought to life while Momonga has been trapped in the form of his game avatar, leaving him unable to use the normal player functions, such as General Message, or even to log out. With no other option, Momonga sets out to learn if anyone from the real world is also in this new world with him.” Pros: Curiously await what the future holds in Ainz’s adventure in this fantasy world and his NPCs seeking control of the world in his name. Cons: Albedo needs to dial back just a smidge. Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡ [4.5/5] Comments: Don’t get attached to anyone outside the Great Tomb of Nazarick . 

Anime: Isekai Quartet Plot: 12 minute comedic episodes of characters (Overlord, KonoSoba, Re:Zero, and Saga of Tanya the Evil) are sent to another world to survive ‘school life’. Pros: Ever wonder what it would be like to have different series come together and temporarily work together at school? Wanna see what character would get along and their reactions? Yep, this would be the show for ya.  Cons: Episodes are too short! Once you finally get somewhere interesting, it gets cut to the next episode. Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡ [4.5/5] Comments: Best way to watch this series is to binge tbh. It’s actually a lot of fun seeing the mains becoming friends and understanding their strengths and weaknesses. 

Anime: That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime Plot:  “Satoru Mikami, an average 37 year old office worker from Tokyo with no girlfriend, is stabbed to death by a passing robber. After making some requests during his death, he is reincarnated in another world as a slime with the ability known as predator (which can devour other creatures and obtain their abilities)” Pros: Unique concept of an overpowered little slime Cons: Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡ [4/5] Comments: I really need to watch the rest of this series TTwTT

Anime: The Wise Man’s Grandson/Grandchild Plot: “A young salaryman dead in an accident was reborn in another world filled with magic and demons. As a baby, he was picked up by the patriot hero "Sage" Merlin Wolford and was given the name Shin. He was raised as a grandson and soaked up Merlin's teachings, earning him some irresistible powers. However, when Shin became 15, Merlin realized, "I forgot to teach him common practice!"” Pros: comical moments and fun action scenes. Interesting uses of knowledge from past life. Cons: Um... when/why did this become a gakuen life show? Why should we care about the very generic classmates that add little to nothing to the plot besides the crown prince? .... and you call that romance? Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡ [4/5] Comments: Has a very strong start and I REALLY WANNA LIKE it but I’m starting to lose interest whenever Shin isn’t using his magic in a battle as everything tends to be ‘oh noes we can’t let the world know of Shin’s gifts’ to ‘Look what Shin did for us!’ in the next instant.... everything looks pretty at least.

Anime: How NOT To Summon a Demon Lord Plot:  “Takuma Sakamoto is a hikikomori gamer who is mysteriously transported to the world of his favourite MMORPG, Cross Reverie, with the appearance of his own character in the game, the Demon Lord Diablo. The two young girls who summoned him, the pantherian Rem and the elf Shera, attempt to use a spell to make Takuma their servant, but due to his passive "Magic Reflection" ability, the spell rebounds, and both end up with magic collars stuck on their necks, thus becoming his slaves instead. With a serious case of social anxiety, Takuma decides to act like his character while interacting with others, and makes use of his high stats and vast knowledge of Cross Reverie's lore to survive in his new environment, traveling along with Rem and Shera to look for a way to remove their slave collars while helping them with their own, personal issues that led them to summon him in the first place.” Pros: The comedy and Diablo’s battles are satisfying to watch. Cons: The not so subtle ecchi moments, in particular one ritual scene that was... a bit much personally. Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡ [4.5/5] Comments: If you don’t mind watching ecchi stuff, you’ll have a fun time with the story and overpowering battle moments.

Anime: Death March To The Parallel World Rhapsody Plot: “Ichiro Suzuki is a 29-year old gaming programmer who was tasked with fixing several bugs in two MMORPGs his company is preparing for publication. After taking a nap, he mysteriously wakes up in a parallel world that resembles some of the fantasy RPG worlds he had worked on, as a 15-year old named Satou Pendragon. However, before he could grasp his current situation, an army of lizardmen ambush him and launches an all-out attack on him. In desperation, he uses all three of his special 'Meteor Rain' attack options (a quick fix he added to the game for new players which kills all enemies in the vicinity) at once and wipes them all out.” Pros: A very casual journey of a character with too much exp points and money. Cons: Everything always works out in the end. Is a harlem REALLY needed here? Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡  ♡ [3/5] Comments: It’s a nice laid back Isekai series. I just wish the Elf arch had more of challenge and thrill, and the very cliche harlem girl gimmicks doesn’t make the relaxing scenes all that pleasant. Guess I was really hoping more to the story? I mean it has potential just doesn’t go there quick enough.

Anime: In Another World With My Smartphone Plot:  “ Fifteen-year-old Touya Mochizuki is accidentally killed by God. As an apology, God allows him to be resurrected, but since he cannot send him back to his old world, he instead reincarnates him into a fantasy world along with a single special request. Touya uses his request in order to bring his smartphone into the new world with him, which God modifies so that the phone will function in the new world. God also greatly amplifies Touya's physical, magical, and cognitive abilities to a certain degree as a further apology for the inconvenience of killing him. Taking full advantage of his second chance at life, Touya befriends many different people, mainly females and high-ranking people in the new world. He begins to travel from country to country, solving political disputes, minor quests, and nonchalantly enjoying himself with his newfound allies.” Pros: Visuals are pretty Cons: What was meant to be ‘basics’ in magic turns out to be the over power ability of knowing all affinities, thus you’re the strongest being in the world. There’s little to no consequences for his actions... everything always works out because of his op ability and the number of girls grow.  Personal Rating:  ♥ ♥ ♥  ♡  ♡ [3/5] Comments:  This is straight up a LITERAL harem anime.  I’m having to stop watching after episode 12 as it reveals he’ll wind up with 9 wives by the end of the series. Given how everything is hunky-dory and the girls are just being unreasonable- yeah- lost interest.

[santiagoswagger]

these days my waves get lost in the ocean

A newly-minted sergeant, Amy struggles to leave her old job as a detective behind. Jake knows exactly what will help her move forward. 

Read it on ao3. 

Her pen flies through the air and hits the living room wall with a sharp clack before clattering unceremoniously to the floor.

Amy Santiago is frustrated, more frustrated even than when Marcia Grossman beat her (by a smidge) for high school valedictorian. She’s attempting to relax on the couch with the daily crossword puzzle after a long day at work, and it’s not going well, to say the least. She hasn’t had much time to puzzle it up lately; she’s been pretty all-consumed by work and trying to step into her new, challenging role as a supervisor. She figured she could jump right back into solving the crossword after a few days away without missing a beat, maybe even catch a typo or two, but reality is not living up to her sky-high expectations.

She throws the newspaper down on the coffee table and stews silently, secretly glad that Jake isn’t here to witness her small tantrum. He’s working through a string of burglaries that he’s so close to solving, so he’s spending his second night in a row at the precinct with Charles as they comb through leads and build the case. She’s excited for him – she loves how he throws himself into the job he loves with everything he has – but she can’t help but be slightly envious.

She loves being a sergeant and she’s thankful every day for the promotion, but working with the beat cops on the fourth floor, far away from the action she used to be in the thick of in the detectives’ bullpen, is harder than she ever could have imagined. Solving puzzles is something she’s loved ever since she was a little girl and her dad would let her climb on his lap to help him with the New York Times crossword each night before bedtime. The thrill of a well-earned solve gives her a rush of adrenaline unmatched by any form of exercise and she would be lying if she said she didn’t miss that part of her job. She only gets so much joy from handing out patrol shift assignments; shaping a schedule until it’s absolutely perfect just isn’t cutting it anymore.

She sighs and drags herself from the couch to retrieve the pen she carelessly cast aside, plopping it on top of the half-finished crossword on her way to bed. She doesn’t sleep well that night, missing Jake’s warmth and nostalgic for the past, allowing herself to wallow for the night.

Her feelings of inadequacy persist the next morning, however, much to her chagrin. So, she decides to break out her full arsenal: Sudoku books she ordered online straight from Japan, the big book of crosswords Rosa gave her last year for Christmas and an intricate ten-thousand-piece jigsaw of Monet’s garden that’s been sitting dormant in her closet for over a year. She spends her entire day off trying to finish something, anything, to no avail. Every time she gets stuck on one puzzle, she exchanges it for a new one, losing herself in a vicious, never-ending cycle.

When Jake arrives home that evening, exhausted beyond belief and eager to cuddle on the couch with his wife for the first time in two days, he’s greeted with the sight of said wife painstakingly sorting through a giant pile of puzzle pieces and swearing quietly to herself. Her hair is a mess of small braids and she has yet to change out of her pajamas even though it’s well past sundown – both blatant signs that Amy is headed for a full-on meltdown.

Jake sets his messenger bag down on one of the only dining chairs not obscured by jigsaw pieces and approaches with caution. “Hey, babe. What’s going on?”

She looks at him, startled, braids swinging wildly behind her. She smiles brightly when she sees it’s him. “Welcome home, babe! I missed you.”

He eyes the puzzles littering their dining room table and cocks a skeptical eyebrow. Next to the giant pile of puzzle pieces, Jake can see a stack of Sudoku books and a week’s worth of New York Times issues opened up to the daily crossword. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve been pretty busy without me.”

She flushes as she looks at the chaos surrounding her, as if she’s just now seeing it for the first time, and looks back at him sheepishly. “I may have gotten a little carried away.”

Jake immediately walks over to her and gently pulls her from the clutter towards the comfort of their couch so they’re sitting side-by-side. “Want to talk about what’s turned you into an episode of Hoarders? Ames, you haven’t stress-braided your hair in months.”

She looks at her puzzle pile across the room and back at him. His thumb swipes over her knuckles in a steady, soothing pattern and she feels the anxiety that’s been tightening around her heart for the past twenty-four hours begin to loosen with his touch.

She sighs. “It’s so stupid.”

“I bet it’s not,” he counters.

She takes a deep breath, the hand not clasped in his fidgeting with the hem of her old Academy t-shirt. “I love being a sergeant, you know that.” He nods, gaze firmly on hers. “I just – I miss being a detective, like way more than I thought I would. I guess I just wanted to feel like myself again, or my old self, so I thought solving a puzzle would help. But it’s been a day and I can’t seem to figure anything out, and maybe I’m never going to feel like me again.”

He squeezes her hand. “Babe, you’re still the same person you’ve always been, you’re just a little more badass now.” She scoffs. “I’m serious! Going from a detective to a sergeant is big and you’re still getting used to it, but not being able to put together a jigsaw puzzle doesn’t mean you aren’t you. Those things are insane – I’m pretty sure my mom has one half-finished in her attic from 1997.”

She laughs and burrows into his side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer and softly kissing her temple. She looks up at him and says, “You’re right, I’m being ridiculous. I’m sure it’ll get easier the longer I’m in the job.”

He grins and rests his head on hers. “See? You’re already starting to sound like the Amy I know and love.”

The next night, they’re side-by-side in their tiny kitchen, chatting about their days and unloading their Chinese takeout for dinner. Now that they don’t work directly across from one another anymore, they’ve found that they have so much to say to each other once 5 PM rolls around.“

Has Jennings stopped inviting you to join his book club yet?” Jake takes the mushu pork out its plastic bag confines and moves to the cabinet to retrieve some plates. Amy refuses to eat directly out of takeout containers and he’s been banned from doing so since the tzatziki-sauce-and-throw-pillow incident of 2016.

Amy, pulling silverware from the drawer next to him, groans. “Oh god, no. I keep telling him that it’s inappropriate for us to hang out after work but I think I might just have to tell him that I’m busy on Wednesday nights so he’ll stop.” Jake chuckles; Gary is such an Amy, it hurts.

They move their food to the dining table. “Anyway, how was your day? Did you and Charles make any progress on the burglaries?”

“No, we can’t prove Walsh was at the second crime scene so I think we’ve officially hit a wall.” He angrily stuffs a piece of fried shrimp into his mouth before pausing to chew thoughtfully, watching his wife as she neatly spoons herself some fried rice.

He swallows and quickly puts down his fork. “Actually, Charles and I were thinking it might be good to get another set of eyes on the case. Would you want to take a look? I can show you the files tomorrow at the precinct.”

She stops loading her plate with food and stares at him. “Jake, I shouldn’t. You’re going to solve it; you’ve just hit a rut.”

“So have you,” he counters. She sighs and fixes him with a disbelieving glare. “I mean it, Ames, you’re the smartest person I know. Please take a look at the case files? For me?” He twists his face into an exaggerated puppy-dog pout – his secret weapon.

Amy tries to fight the smile forcing its way onto her face but fails miserably. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll take a look at them tomorrow if I have time.”

Jake pumps his fist in victory, but Amy knows her husband. His memory is worse than a goldfish’s; chances are, he’ll forget all about her concession and she’ll be off the hook.

However, when Amy returns to her desk after her daily briefing the next morning, she finds a thick case file labeled ‘Walsh’ nestled on her keyboard that wasn’t there before. Jake must have snuck upstairs and left it for her knowing she wouldn’t take a look unless forced. She sighs and shuffles it to the side of her desk so she can start on her pile of paperwork.

She works diligently for the next hour before she can’t concentrate any longer, the manila folder taunting her from her right. She hauls it in front of her and opens it, her first case file in over six months. She inhales the familiar folder smell and revels in the feeling of looking through the fragments of a complex case. She spends the next two hours rifling through crime scene photos, alibis and witness statements, thrilled and excited by the familiarity of it all.

For the first hour, she’s completely stumped. David Walsh, the main suspect, can be tied in some small way to every Park Slope jewelry store burglary in the last month – except for one. His alibi for the second burglary is airtight and officers weren’t able to recover any DNA at the scene. Knowing from personal experience that DNA isn’t completely infallible, Amy turns her attention to the security camera feeds.

In most of the burglaries, the cameras had been turned off before the thefts occurred, but they were left on in the second store. Maybe Walsh was trying to throw authorities off his scent by breaking the pattern. Pouncing on that thought, Amy loads the feed from the second store on her computer and quickly sifts through footage from the night of the break-in. She notices almost immediately that the camera’s viewpoint shifts ever-so-slightly over the span of a few hours until it faces the wall. This had to have been an inside job; only an employee would have had access to the security feeds. Thirty minutes of meticulous research proves that David Walsh’s former brother-in-law works at the jewelry store and has a shaky alibi for the night in question.

Amy stares at her notes for a moment in disbelief, adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream. She sprints downstairs with her notes and quite literally runs into her husband at the elevators.

“Jake, Walsh’s brother-in-law – “

Jake gently cuts her off. “Take a look in the holding cell.”

Amy, bewildered, turns to look and, sure enough, David Walsh is scowling in the holding cell, right next to his former brother-in-law turned partner-in-crime.

Her jaw drops and she turns back to her husband, who’s smiling her favorite close-lipped smile, eyes twinkling. That’s when it dawns on her.

She narrows her eyes at him. “You knew Walsh had been working with his brother-in-law when you left me the file.”

He tries but fails to hold in a laugh. “I did. Charles and I cracked it this morning.”

She’s speechless for a minute, irritation and confusion clouding her thoughts. She could have been working ahead on paperwork or checking in with her squad in the field, but instead she spent her entire morning working through a closed case. “Why did you leave it for me then?”

He gently grabs her shoulders and smiles down at her, and she briefly marvels at their slight height difference, more apparent now that she can’t wear her heeled boots to work. “Ames, you solved a puzzle! Just because you’re not a detective anymore doesn’t mean you aren’t still you. Now, you can go back to kicking ass as a sergeant without beating yourself up for leaving your old job behind.”

Amy kind of wants to cry but that would be extremely unprofessional in the workplace, so she flings her arms around him instead, feeling his arms clasp tightly around her back in return. “Thank you,” she says, voice muffled by his leather jacket. “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.”

“Right back at you, Ames.”

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Things to try when doubting my words | Doing the Write Thing #74

Back at it again for a super quick DtWT update y’alls, holla at ya boi. 

(Quite possibly my worst intro??)

Today was a lil bit of an exhausting day, ha. I’ve been strangely tired all week, but I’m super relieved to say hellooo to the weekend. This writing session was rather short (hence this update’s length), but I thought I’d share some Friday night progress!

Daily word count goal: 250

Words written: 360

Total word count: 39 844

(incessantly worrying bout the fact that this book is already 40k words and nothing has happened, OH my)

Total page count: 70

Songs played: No music today, but I did spend a solid 30 mins downloading all of The Nicholas Project’s music (aka Current Joys before the name change to TELE/VISIONS and then to Current Joys, ha) because oh boi did I find a gold MINE:

(if you’re down for some litttt lo-fi [and sometimes beachy] music, Nick kills it with this and I’m v/ shook for not discovering this sooner [also they’re all free downloads except 2008-2010, which is pay what you can]) 

I’ve yet to make a full listen through of all of these, since this is a solid 35 songs, and ya girl discovered this today, lol. Old Shit is blowing me away, my fave from that is Exit Music (For A Short Film), and is a go to rec for my indie friends, along with TV LUV SONG (wavves cover) off The Basement Tapes, and Bride of Frank also off Old Shit. I’ll get back to you with more favourites in the future, ha, but I’m digging these quite a lot, and listening to younger Nick is an experienceeeee. 

Things to know: I was having a bit of trouble getting into writing, but wanted to write, although I knew I was hella tired. I think I was a smidge fearful going into this writing session, just because eh, I’m about to get into writing something really emotional, and ayyyy, not prepared to feel those. So I kinda quit before the emotional part, lol, but still got stuff done!

Speaking of fear! 

I spoke with my psychologist earlier this week about this super demotivating fear in my writing, and we spent some time brainstorming ways to get over that hump! I’m going to share the list of five (she added a sixth) we came up with, in case it could help one of you!

1. Look for an awesome word or sentence I love in my writing.

So we talked a bit about how much of a word junkie I am, so this was my suggestion for what I can do when fear is taking over and being like yooo run away from the computer and hide on tumblrrrrr my dude. I like weird, cool words, so this one is fun for me.

The point of this suggestion (and all of these actually) is for if I’m about to run away from writing, and want to not do that. She made it clear though that these should be methods to guide me back to my writing, so no breaks on YouTube as a suggestion, writing a blog post, etc. Something I can do in the bubble of my words, you feel? I should also elaborate on this one: I suggested that I look for a word I could find an even better/quirkier word for in a passage, for example, so you can also do that!

2. Read the dictionary.

Ya girl is a word junkie, my dudes. I love learning new words, and improving my vocabulary. Something I really enjoy doing is inputting a word I like through a thesaurus, and from there, click on synonyms of synonyms to find new words/be inspired by the definitions of words. Ooooh this is geeky as fuuuuh. I actually do this regularly, lolz. 

3. Look at my printed quotes

So this was also my suggestion! Sometimes when writing got me down, and I need a lil inspo, I’ll go through quotes from Virginia Woolf’s The Waves because the book’s themes/tone is in the vein of where I’m at for this particular book, and ma girl Virginia always brings me the inspiration. I also suggested I print these and keep ‘em near me when working so I don't have to get caught up on the internet! I’ll probs add some quotes from The Girls in the compilation because Emma Cline is top notchhhh and her writing is also inspo for dayz?

4. Face the blank page

So this was a super cool suggestion my doctor suggested! I have yet to try it, but the gist is, to open a blank page, and write exactly how I feel. For example, if I’m nervous about writing, or insecure about writing, the first thing I’d do is open a new Word doc and write ‘I’m afraid and insecure’, and from there, write line-by-line how I feel. Kind of journal style, but I happen to be hella poetic and dramatic when writing about my feelings, so I often do find gems to put in my writing through my journalling process lol. I thought this was super cool, since it’s a bit of a spin on freewriting! Basically, the point is to write a bit of an instructional on my thoughts, like I’m afraid and insecure. I will mess up this scene if I write it. I feel emotionally disconnected from this scene, etc etc, until the words start flowing, and some of that anxiety/emotion expels!

#5 is a super personal one, so I’m going move on to the last one, which was:

Bonus: Process the emotion, identify the feeling, and pay attention to it. 

I didn’t know she wrote this one, and it made me smile when she printed this out and handed it to me, lol. 

So maybe these can potentially help other people who deal with fear/doubt in their work! Being stuck suuucks, but these were a couple solutions I’ll definitely try!

back to ze update

How I felt: ehhh. very ehhh.

Bad haiku to describe writing session: Ehhh is a good word / To describe this one session / Ehhh it was a lot 

Rating of writing session out of 10 and why: It actually wasn’t that bad, I think I was just foreseeing the disaster that could potentially come, so wasn’t very rooted in what I was writing. I’m going to say a 7?

On a scale from 1-10 my level of stoked-ness is: Uh. Maybe also a 7, lol. Mostly because I’m a bit nervous (I’m writing with Foster who I haven’t written with in like three months ahh), but uh, yeah, hopefully I can channel my inner human sadness tomorrow. 

Lyrics to describe writing session: 'Cause in my waking mind / Oh, I feel so far away / 'Cause in my mind these nights / Are more beautiful than your days

--My Nights Are More Beautiful Than Your Days, Current Joys (A Different Age)

#relevant

GIF to describe writing session: 

yikersss

Excerpt: 

short line but mood all week:

Lonan looks ill.

Here’s a short description ft. my expedition in verbifying the entire world:

The bed is hotel ready, set with frilly throw pillows, and a silk sheeted duvet. The accent wall is tethered with gingham wallpaper and tetris’d picture frames.

I actually decided to google images of master bedrooms in case I wanted to describe more things and have a visual aid, and that came in handy for the picture frame thing, of which I used this pic as inspo for:

my inner home reno show lover was coming out with these descriptions, catch me being like look at that fully functioning ensuite tho, the open concept design

This isn’t my favourite thing but it’s about Lonan and his angstiness:

I don’t know what it’s like to be forgotten like this. Still alive and obvious in the real world, but painfully erased from the mind. 

I wrote this bit a couple days ago, sharing because I made up a word (glosh wtf is a glosh) and mentioned salty beaches, and s-curves which is another photography thing, someone take away my camera bag and lenses pls:

At first it was cloudy memories. A house, not a basement. The unfamiliar glosh of water on the drive up. And on his stumble back to my place, remembered the beach five minutes from the residence, salty and buzzing with tourists. Faint sights and smells and sounds, creating the map of his s-curved route.

(by glosh I mean the sound of water hitting water, it’s a very particular sound reminiscent of GLOSH, not gloop, not wash, there’s probs a word that fits this that I’m not remembering, but lol, for now it be glosh).

So that’s it for now! This update was supposed to be short, but, ha. I had fun writing this, and I hope you had fun reading it/found something helpful/enjoyed it!

--Rachel

[njcklenjart]

a moment of apricity, 2/?

Chapter Title: gauche

Summary: Newt returns to school. Although, he’s a few years too late and in the wrong continent.

A/N: I don’t know why this chapter took as long as it did. Also on FF and AO3

Previous • Next

The rest of his classes proceed as his first, his students asking him countless questions. They're more or less the same, easy ones he can answer and are memorized by his third day at Ilvermorny. He tells one or two lies to ward off suspicion when a child gets a smidge too interested, and, soon enough, he has a solid story with an acceptable amount of detail. And so, the first week passes without problem, as does the initial buzz about him. The students go from eyeing him in the hallways to nodding and uttering a quick, “Professor,” before hurrying off to bigger and better things.

With one problem gone, another arises. Despite the Headmistress insisting that he’s treated with utmost respect, the school is less accepting than the people living in it. Ilvermorny, though not as old is Hogwarts, is still a magical place, and takes to strangers as well as an Ukrainian Ironbelly in heat- and, by all means, Newt is just that, an invading stranger. 

And, like any beast presented with an unwanted stranger in their home, the school makes its opinion known. Loudly.

He gets turned around, ending up at dead ends where he’s sure there should be a classroom, walking into the kitchen despite knowing that it’s on the opposite side of the school, and, worst of all, repeatedly having the toilette switched up. It’s partly because the layout is strange to him, faring as well as a first-year, but he blames most of his pains to the actual school rather than his incompetencies.

The curtains try to strangle him if he gets too close, the tapestries always ready for a fight, and the windows love to open at the right moment to have a gust of wind blow his papers in disarray. His first trip to the library is an dangerous one, nearly resulting in him flattened by a towering shelf and tossed over the second story balcony by an angry armchair, and, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t find the text he came in to find. He takes a particularly ridiculing fall when, halfway up a set of stairs, the steps meld into a slide and send him tumbling back to the first floor.

There are no students or faculty nearby to witness it, but the paintings have a good laugh at his expense.

Then there are the ghosts. 

Where there are wizarding schools, there are sure to be ghosts- a common occurrence- integrated into school life no matter which continent one finds themselves on. Newt remembers his first year at Hogwarts and how the ghosts of the school surged into the Great Hall during the first dinner (Nearly Headless Nick was always popping through students’ plates for a quick laugh). 

He wonders why he hadn't seen any during his first night at Ilvermorny, only to get his answer on his way to Headmistress’ office a few days later when, without precedence, a battle erupts around him. Misty figures armed with wands and swords appear quite suddenly and, before he realizes what’s happening, charge at one another. There’s no fear of being hurt, but walking through a ghost did leave one with chills and a weird, detached feeling, and Newt’s not willing to find out what it feels like to have an incorporeal sword pass through him.

Thankfully, the Headmistress’s office appears just when he needs it, giving him a the opportunity to escape, and the woman within merely gives him a bemused expression when he tells her of his encounter.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, Mr. Scamander,” she tells him. “Just the dead reliving their glory days.”

Newt learns to take it all in stride like one of his expeditions, Ilvermorny a type of beast that must be studied. Once he does that, life settles into a sort of familiar rhythm.

The school pesters him and he deals with it the best he can. Eventually, he gets the hang of stepping out the way of overeager doors swinging open and always has a spare box of chalk when his current one goes suspiciously missing. He learns to keep his ink jar away from his papers lest the table develops an in-the-moment limp and not laugh quite so loudly when he purposefully takes the banister down a spiraling staircase.

Despite the odd looks he gets, he takes his case wherever he goes within the castle. Can’t have the off chance of someone finding it lying about, thinking it a good joke to make the newest teacher search high and low for his things. He doesn’t want to think ill of anyone here, but he had been young once and, on occasion, had gone to great lengths to obtain what he needed for his and Leta’s experiments (whether or not his professors knew of his use of their things).

Most days he keeps to himself, falling back to his case and his creatures. There he can't be pestered by confrontational ghosts that break out in brawls and raunchy noblewoman calling out from fancy frames. In his case, he knows every nook and cranny, navigating it with sure steps and a confidence he could only aspire to attain in the outside world.

However, he is a teacher and, even as a temporary substitute, is held up to a standard with responsibilities that force him to meet social requirements. The ever dreadful, faculty meetings.

That is where he meets a Porpentina Goldstein.

~

He's late to the teacher's meeting, tie askew and dried leaves stuck between the buttons of his vest. There are odd looks directed his way, but no one says anything about it, only carrying on with whatever they were discussing before he entered. 

It takes merely a moment to find a seat near the back of the group and a moment longer to find himself completely bored when he takes the time to listen to what's being said. The Headmistress is there for a little while, vocalizing her trademark speech of unity and legacies for the school, before saying something about janitorial staff and transfers and making her way out; she gives him a secret smile as she leaves, pinching his elbow when she catches him growing distant. After that, it's all talk of new regulations and distributions of supplies.

Nothing interests him, so he observes the room instead. With how many classrooms there are, he supposed it only right to have one solely for the professors. A common room of sorts.

Like everywhere else in the school, the architecture is same, with no specific affiliation toward any particular house, the colors and style completely neutral. There’s a fireplace like the one in his cottage, only bigger and far more elegant, and plush couches and armchairs settled around it. One or two unfamiliar teachers lounge there, while the rest of the staff are seated on the long tables across from the fireplace as they go from topic to topic until, finally, the meeting is adjourned.

He politely shakes his head when a large pot floats over to him from the counter by the doorway, spilling what he thinks is coffee over the arm of a sullen loveseat.

He’d never bothered to think about the social lives of his professors as very few of them took to him more than necessary. Now, as one himself, he's curious as to what goes on behind the scenes of encompassing lectures and rigid structure, and is severely disappointed when the meeting is no more exciting than his time spent behind his desk at the Ministry. He hears what he expects, outrageous tales of students (most of them ending with detentions), past and current, as well as discussions of home life. The only thing remotely interesting is the recounting of a duel between two students, one that was settled out in the middle of the hallway not far from them.

He listens to his colleagues for a small amount of time before eagerly moving away, too bored to care about the less subtle looks of offense sent his way. One round about the room, then he makes for his cottage again and back into his case- his fwooper was coming down with a cold and it would be best if he got to making a remedy as soon as possible. He spots a lone woman sitting on a double armchair on his way out and something catches his eye. He wanders over, getting a good look at what she's holding when he's close enough. It's a newspaper.

The New York Ghost.

Interesting. Newt hadn't bothered with keeping up with current events (nor had he the luxury while deep in rainforests and deserts), only interested when a beast was mentioned. The constant attacks and muggle scares were often less than cheery, and he didn't bother joining the ranks of the millions of wizards fretting and worrying in their homes.

Someone clears their throat. “Can I help you?”

He looks up into eyes the color of freshly upturned dirt. A single eyebrow is raised, curious and expectant, and Newt feels heat creep up the back of his neck.

His cheek twitches. “No. I was just reading.”

Hair brushes against her jaw when she tilts her head, looking almost… amused? As if to indulge him, she shows him the front page, the picture showcasing a burning building, small figures running away as flames roll into smoke. 

“There’s been multiple attacks these past few weeks,” she explains. “MACUSA is still trying to identify the creature behind them.”

“A creature?” he repeats.

“Yes. MACUSA is very sure about that. No human could cause this amount of damage.”

Despite the unarguable tone, Newt isn't so sure. It was best not underestimate the damage a person, magical or not, could inflict. Headlessly disregarding a problem as being the result of a rampaging beast was an act his fellows wizards did easily and repeatedly, so he did his best to give the benefit of the doubt. If one only searched a little deeper, looking past the expected explanation, there was always a lead that came back to ignorant wizards throwing the care of magical creatures aside for their own benefit.

Newt realizes that woman is waiting for a response and he’s been staring at her paper for longer than necessary. “Pardon my manners, I'm-”

“Newt Scamander. I know.”

Ah, yes, he'd forgotten about his introduction to the whole school. “And you are?”

“Tina Goldstein.” She offers him her hand, completely professional. They shake.

“Ms. Goldstein- is this fairly recent?” He motions to the article. 

“It's the morning edition.”

He nods, leaning in to see what the article said about this so-called beast. Sadly, there's nothing critically identifying. He expects as much, only a select few bothering to correctly educate themselves on magical creatures while the rest of the wizarding world merely applied the ‘kill on sight’ rule.

He wonders what it could be. Leprechauns are out of the question- they were prankster, yes, but never inflicted any lasting damage. Only a handful of doxies and pixies would be needed to cause chaos, but what the article suggested would mean hundreds of the little creatures and the two species could barely hold a group of twenty without mutiny.

Perhaps it was two separate species. Symbiotic companionship between animals, magical or not, happened in the wild, so the possibility of it being more than one creature isn't that farfetched. Newt couldn't name a pair of creatures that were this erratic on the top of his head, much less this close to civilization without having being trafficked by some wizard. 

His eyes scrounge the rest of the page in hopes of finding anything than can shorten his list. One small section catches his eye. 

“‘Lingering Effects of Salemers Scandal-’” he reads aloud, squinting when he gets to where the paper begins to crinkle. 

Without warning, the newspaper is ripped away. Newt blinks as Ms. Goldstein jumps from her seat and quickly folds the newspaper, jamming it under her armpit. Her lips are pulled in a fierce frown.

“It was wonderful talking to you, Mr. Scamander, but I have somewhere to be- so if you'll excuse me.” She marches past him, expertly evading an insistent coffee pot and a jerky cup of sugar.

Newt watches her go, confused. He’s fairly certain he did nothing to insult the woman, much less say anything to make her leave in such a hurry. Socializing with his kind was never something he was ecstatic about- unless it was directly related to a creature- but he doubts he’s that inadequate when he’s barely a year out of practice.

It must’ve have been due to their conversation, he guesses, but can’t discern why.

No matter, he thinks, shaking his head. He has more important things to think about- self-appointed things like the deducing what kind of magical creature would be wreaking havoc in small towns in America.

Theseus would help, only an Owl away. If anything, his brother will merely think he's on the tail of some evasive creature (which he could be) and won’t ask him for his sudden interest.

Already a plan is forming in his mind, his interest piqued by these unusual attacks and his stubbornness pushing him to figure it out himself. This isn’t what he expected when coming to Ilvermorny, but he can’t complain, not when it gives him the opportunity to aid a misplaced creature. He doesn’t believe in fate, but chance seems to have set him in America alongside these strange happenings and he’ll make use of this opportunity as much as he can.

With that in mind, he sets off, a certain spring in his step.

While the faculty don't pry, the students are at that age where they find no problem asking him questions that would normally be off limits to teachers. Clearly, as it was at Hogwarts, he's the oddball, the Englishman thrown in the middle of an American melting pot, and that opens him to countless questionnaires. 

One beats all others: “What's in your case anyway? You always have it with you.” 

It's the fifth time the question has been asked during two class periods and he knows it won't be the last. The object is too prominent to shrug off as insignificant and, as no matter how many times he opens it to show them the ordinary clutter stuffed in its safety setting, they are too clever to take his falsities at face value.

“Nothing special,” is the designated response, along with the common misdirection.

This time it's a presentation of sorts.

He drags his stool to the center of the classroom, motioning for the students to get out of their seats. “Gather around.”

They follow his order, shuffling until he is surrounded by a sea of faces, all turned toward him, expecting. It is unnerving for all of a second before he feels a small nudge against his chest.

“Pickett,” he calls, tapping his top pocket. There's a squeak and he sees the top of a leafy head, but nothing more. “Come now, Pickett, don't be shy.” 

Another squeak, but the bowtruckle does peak out from his vest.

Instantly, the class is enamored and a few of the girls squeal when they catch sight of him. The rest of the students bunch closer for a better look as the bowtruckle comes out more. With a little more prodding, Pickett climbs out into the open, crawling up to stand on his shoulder. The creature rests one slender hand against Newt’s neck, making a familiar bridge between them. 

“Pickett, here, is a bowtruckle,” he informs them, knowing that his friend doesn't fit this year’s criteria, but deciding the lesson must be taught regardless. “They are very handy and can pick almost any lock you put in from of them.”

There is more gushing and it makes something warm and soft float in his chest.

“Can I…?” one of the girls ask. She reaches out, only to pull back a half second later (Newt’s glad- his previous lecture about personal boundaries for different creatures must've gotten through to someone).

“Certainly.”

Pickett lets out an alarmed squeal and hooks his spindly fingers around Newt’s ear, fixating himself there as if Newt was intending to give him away for good. 

“Pickett- Pick- he has some attachment issues,” he explains in an effort to console the rejected girl when he attempts to pick up the creature, a pinch of pain pricking his lobe in response. He gives an exasperated sigh and gives up, ignoring the smug shimmy his tiny friend does. “Which is exactly why I’m accused of favoritism.”

Pickett blows him a raspberry, but lets go of his ear now that he's not being abandoned (honestly, Newt would never).

“Now that is beneath you,” he says as the students laugh. Still, he smiles. 

The bowtruckle makes its way down the length of his arm, gazing at the students surrounding him almost anxiously. Neurotic is a word that can describe Pickett at times, insecure and shy at others; the amount of time he's spent in the outside world and away from his branch exceeds any of the other bowtruckles and still Pickett isn't all too open to strangers. Newt lifts his hand, palm up, and Pickett scurries to it.

“I saved him and his branch from a logging site. Bowtruckles are tree guardians. Anyone have a guess as to what that entails?”

“They guard trees?”

Newt nods at the half-hearted answer. “They take care of one tree and one tree only. Once they've chosen one, they won't leave it. It's one of the reasons why deforestation poses such a problem to them specifically.”

“Can't we just move the tree somewhere else?” a Wampus girl asks. 

“Yes, that would be easier, wouldn't it? More efficient as well, if taken straightforward. But,” he says quickly when he sees more heads nodding in agreement, “what would you say if I told you that, more often than not, bowtruckles claim trees such as hornbeam, rosewood and even the ever evasive elder tree?”

He can see the realization hit.

His wand is out and spun between nimble fingers, distracting the little bowtruckle for a span of two seconds before Newt’s knuckles grow more interesting. “For those unaware, these are examples of wand wood. Most of the time, it’s rather easy to get the wood and bark. Simply offer some woodlice- fairy eggs if you have some- to placate the bowtruckles and they’ll allow you to take what you need.”

He tucks his chin. “Except… sometimes that’s not enough. The wand making industry is rather large and in constant demand with every witch and wizard born- and it is far easier to get rid of these creatures and take the tree entirely- which means that Pickett here is considered less important.”

He wiggles his fingers and Pickett lets out a high pitched squeak as he swings, enjoying himself. 

“As you can see, Pickett doesn't know that I am, biologically, the same as all of you. He doesn't care- he's already claimed me as, what I perceive to be, his new tree and, if offered the choice, would choose to stay with me even as I lay dying.” He pauses, head cocked as he stares at his small friend. “Very loyal creatures, bowtruckles.”

Pickett slips, but Newt is there to catch him with his other hand, gently setting him back on his shoulder. Not a moment later, the green creature is snuggled under his collar, safe and warm.

He looks up at his students, watching the ribbons of thought catch their attention. He offers a small smile.

“Just a sickle for your thoughts.”

Newt sees the accursed thing on his second week at Ilvermorny, both in the hands of students and laying ominously on their desks. Something he hasn't trusted since he'd been forced to utilize during his Hogwarts days and wishes he didn’t see in his classroom.

Bestarium Magicum.

He has his own copy, but he’s marked it up so thoroughly with his own notes, that’s it nearly impossible to decipher the original text. Sometimes, if he's feeling especially spiteful, he'll accidentally drop it in the path of his giant dung beetles.

“Rubbish.” He hands the book back to the student, a strawberry blond boy of wiry build, whom he has borrowed it from and makes his way to his desk. He has the urge to wipe his hands clean. “We will not be using the book. I apologize that you had to buy the new edition, but I had only been asked to teach two weeks prior the semester starting.”

The boy, whose name escaped him at the moment- Edward, maybe? Or could it have been Brandon?- speaks up with furrowed brows. “Is something wrong with it?”

“That's depends. Most wizards would say no, but I find this book severely lacking. For example, while its description of the limax is adequate, its account of its behavior is less so.”

“Limax?”

“Air-breathing land slugs- terrestrial pulmonate gastropod mollusk in the Limacidae family,” he says, pretending he can actually see his words enter one ear and shoot out the other. With a wave of his wand a piece of chalk floats to the board and begins a rudimentary sketch of the creature. “Imagine a hammer head with a snake-like body and four arms. It has no natural way of defending itself, so it often bears handmade weapons. The only creature of its intelligence level to do so.”

“What kind of weapons?”

“Oh, anything it can get its hands on. It'll take a quill right out of your hands if it feels like it has to.” The corner of his lips twitch. “If I remember correctly, that's how the first attempt at observation went- threatened Professor Briggs of Cambridge with his own butter knife.”

One or two students laugh.

“It says it’s paranoid,” Emil Johnson says, a constant presence in the seat next to the window, looking through his book. He flips a page. “That’s it.”

“Yes, and rightly so. It has many predators and is constantly on the move. Because it is suspicious of all creatures, the females will often fight off the advancing males. Once they do mate, they will form a partnership until their young is old enough to fend for itself. After that, the family will go their separate ways indefinitely.”

“That's so sad,” says a skinny boy in the front. 

Newt shakes his head. “Creatures mate solely for the continuation of their species. Humans are the oddballs, searching out partners for the chance of an emotional connection.”

“So they don't love each other?”

“The mind of a beast is very different than a human, so the way they perceive and think varies from how we do. What we consider love may not fit what a manticore considers necessary for a mateship,” he says, noticing the interest of the rest of the class, even the students who don't usually follow along, shifting towards him. “It depends on the creature in question. While most species of dragons are promiscuous and don't form pair bonds, hippogriffs mate for life- as do owls and unicorns. When observing each, you can see the difference in their level of affection, as well as how close it mirrors that of a human.”

“But you said they don't feel love like we do.”

He didn’t plan for the conversation to turn philosophical, but he'll admit that he's enjoying it. Questions meant they were interested. “I never said that. I merely stated that it's a highly debatable topic depending on the constructs one has for love.”

“So what do you think?”

Newt stalls for a moment. He shouldn't impose his views on them, but leave them to make their own opinions. That's the professional way- the appropriate way. That’s the way most of his professors handled the question when he was first learning the subject.

Bugger his professors. He isn't like them and would teach as he pleases. 

“I believe we all have similar instincts at a basic level. I believe that they feel pain as we do, can be happy or angry, have likes of their own. They are as complex as you and I- so what's to say they don't love.”

They find his answer adequate.

The discussion continues long after class is over.

[sentrava]

Books a Million, Part XXI: Memoirs, Chick Lit & Growing Up Different

Winter tends to be my favorite time to catch up on my reading. From the week of Thanksgiving until midway through January, everyone in the tourism industry seems to disappear—it’s as if conference season is over, their budgets have been planned for the following year, and they’re taking a very lengthy hiatus. I took the opportunity over the holidays and my birthday trip to Puerto Rico to whittle down my 2019 book list, just a smidge.

Here’s everything I’ve read in the past couple months in case you’re heading on a Spring Break or summer trip of your own soon and looking for a good vacation read of your own.

Man in the (Rearview) Mirror by LaRue Cook

I’m at that point in my career where so many peers and friends are publishing books, and I can barely keep up with reading them all. But when a friend sent me a link to LaRue’s book, I bumped it up the chain and immediately ordered the paperback instead of waiting for the Kindle version to drop. LaRue and I started as writers at the UT paper, The Daily Beacon, on the same day; I was 20, he was 18, halfway through his freshman year. We immediately became journalist friends, and I was soon promoted to features editor, he one of my most reliable writers. He later went on to be the editor of the paper after I graduated.

Our lives ran parallel for years; I worked a stint at Entertainment Weekly, and he took over the same job a year or two later. He and his girlfriend at the time, another of my close college pals, moved to NYC in my final months there before moving to California, so I got to spend some time with them as my neighbors while he was getting his feet wet in sports writing for ESPN. But then, he dropped off my radar. He was never on social media back then, despite being younger than me, and I often lose touch with people I can’t track via Facebook and Instagram. I now know that’s partially because he was going through his version of an existential crisis, and after a decade with ESPN, he quit, moved back to Knoxville and became an Uber driver. While doing this (and driving more than 5,000 passengers around town), he wrote a book—a memoir told through the parallel lives of his passengers. A read that covers so many topics in the span of 234 pages: racial inequality, sexual orientation, faith and religion, his own infidelities. It’s always weird reading a memoir by someone you know, as it feels a bit like your peeling back the layers of their soul. I’d love to write something similar someday, but am not sure I’d ever be able to approach it with such honesty as LaRue did. This is a great book for anyone looking for a non-fiction read that examines how losing your pillar at a young age—in this case, LaRue’s dad at 15—can go on to shape a person’s identity as a young adult.

Hum If You Don’t Know the Words by Bianca Marais

I’m still shook by this book. You know that it’s a powerful read if you’re still thinking about it two months later. I started and finished this book at the beach in less than 24 hours, and man, it was some heavy stuff.

Taking place in an 18-month span during the height of apartheid, Hum chronicles the lives of two very different heroines—a nine-year-old white girl whose parents are slain and a 50-year-old black woman who came to the big city to track down her rebel daughter caught up in the Soweto Uprising—and at the heart of the story, impresses upon the reader how no matter the color of our skin, our sexual orientation, our religion or where we were born, no one is any greater or worse than the next human (and that good people do bad things and bad people do good things). Particularly poignant during the racial inequality happening still today, this book really tugged at my heartstrings and should be on everyone’s must-read list.

All The Missing Girls by Megan Miranda

I love me a good mystery, and All the Missing Girls is in a similar vein to Gone Girl and every Mary Kubica book I’ve ever devoured. It starts off with Nicolette, a 28-year-old teacher who had fled her small Appalachian town after high school to move to the big city, returning home to care for her ailing father—and confronting the ghosts of her past, specifically the disappearance of her best friend. Not long after she arrives, another young girl goes missing, and Nicolette makes it her mission to figure out what happened to her—and if it is indeed linked to the same missing girl from a decade prior.

Contrary to what other reviewers have written, I found the pace of this book quick and engaging, and those who like suspense will likely find it entertaining. The only thing I didn’t really care for was the erratic storytelling style in which the author kept jumping a day back in time to set the stage. It made it a bit confusing to piece together the timeline on the reader’s end. Overall, though, I’d read this book again and give it four out of five starts if I were still rating my reads.

Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

We’re never really told what exactly is wrong with Eleanor Oliphant; we just know from the opening lines of the book that she’s different. And that difference takes us through her life in a deadbeat job with no friends or family to call her own, a curious character who becomes overly infatuated with a rockstar she’s never met, to the point where she begins to stalk him, both at gigs and at his own home, and even thinks he’s her boyfriend.

Socially awkward Eleanor is always saying the exact wrong thing, and she’s never even aware she’s the butt of everybody’s jokes in the office. A chance encounter, however, brings her close to a coworker who she previously had written off as uninteresting: She falls into an unexpected friendship with Raymond when they come to the rescue of an older man who has fallen in the street and needs to be taken to the hospital. This book isn’t so much plot-driven, as it is about character development, and Honeyman is a master of that particular trope. Peculiar and uplifting despite its somber undertones—alcoholism, mental illness, child abuse—Eleanor Oliphant was one of the most unexpectedly endearing books I read in the past year. The cadence of Eleanor’s narrating takes a bit of getting used to, but once you insert yourself into her mind, reading in her voice becomes second nature.

The High Season by Judy Blundell

The premise of this book—an artist and gallery curator, Ruthie, dealing with a separation who longs to keep her life in a sleepy Long Island coastal town in one piece when everything around her seems to be falling apart—made me think this was going to be a beach read (or maybe the fact that it was actually set on an island did that). But it was a bit, well, sleepier than that. It took nearly halfway through the book until I even knew what it was really about: Ruthie’s failed marriage, her career crumbling at the hands of her board and coming to grips with everything changing around her, including the loss of her home and her daughter, who is midway through high school. There was a socialite aspect to this book I kind of liked when the Hampton set arrived in the North Fork for the summer; it brought a little Sex and the City edge and scandal to what was dragging on as a mundane novel to that point.

In the end, this book was fine; not great, not terrible. I liked the art gallery aspect of it; the fact that SVV and I are part of so many groups and on various art boards these days made the book a bit more relatable. If I still gave ratings, this one would get two-and-a-half stars: very slow in parts, but enough of a story to hold my interest till the end.

The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillroy

The Wedding Date is, hands down, one of the worst books I have read ever. I am still shocked it got such positive ratings on Good Reads and Amazon—does no one read for content anymore?! I stuck with it kept waiting for the plot to develop and … nothing. In the opening pages of the book, Alexa meets Drew in an elevator, then soon after agrees to be his fake wedding date to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding. The two fall into an on-again, off-again romance, and there’s just no storyline AT ALL.

I never read any of the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy, but I imagine it was a lot like this: heavy on the sex scenes, light on the content. No thanks, not my jam. It’s a shame, too, as this could have been a powerful tale about interracial relationships and the trials faced by both side, but instead it was just plain garbage.

When Life Gives You Lululemons by Lauren Weisberger

If you loved The Devil Wears Prada, you’ll be happy to see that Lauren Weisberger is back many years later with another follow-up tale that chronicles Miranda Priestley’s assistant Emily Charlton as she navigates life’s changes after her time at Runway. (Side note: Somehow I must have missed the second in the series, Revenge Wears Prada? Anyone read it?) Emily is a fixer, an image consultant of sorts for the Hollywood set, and when her career starts to falter, she takes a job in Greenwich, Conn., trying to help a former supermodel navigate a scandal involving her senator husband while also suffering life in the suburbs.

I’ve read every other book of Weisberger’s, and while none can compare to Devil, this one is satisfying for anyone who loved the original.

Crazy, Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan

I’ll admit that I had no desire to read this book until I saw the movie trailer. Then, I immediately signed up for it at my local library, but was approximately 368th on the list, no exaggeration, so it took ages to land in my inbox. And when it finally did, it was worth the wait—nothing at all like I expected.

Rachel Chu is a professor at NYU whose boyfriends Nicky invites her back to Singapore with him for his best friend’s wedding; little does she know, his family is basically Singapore royalty. Despite the fact that she’s Asian-American—she never knew her father, but her mother was a Chinese immigrant—many members of Nick’s snobby family doesn’t give her the time of day, particularly his mom who is out to destroy their relationship. What follows is a fascinating look into how the upper crust, the social-climbers for whom dropping a cool million on a pair of earrings is an everyday occurrence, live—private planes! private clubs! private islands!—in one of the world’s most extravagant, over-the-top cities. One of my dear friends is a Singapore native, and I fact-checked much the book with her—she says it’s very accurate to the 1% there and even knows the families upon whom the book is based.

I then watched the movie on a recent flight and was equally pleased by it. I suppose next up I’ll be reading the second and third installments of this trilogy—please tell me they’re as entertaining as the first?

The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine

You know the kind of book you think is going to end one way, then midway through, you’re hit with a whammy and completely left off-guard? That’s The Last Mrs. Parrish to a tee. Amber Patterson is a con-artist who weasels her way into heiress Daphne Parrish’s world of excess by becoming her friend in Single White Female fashion—later going as far as trying to become her, attempting to take over her husband and her home. The book ping-pongs between narrators, both Amber and Daphne, and there’s really no way to tell you anymore of the plot of Amber’s metamorphosis into Daphne without spoiling any of the zingers, of which there are many. Go. Read. This. Book!

I’m really, really hoping The Last Mrs. Parrish gets made into a movie starring (or produced by) Reese Witherspoon.

This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel

Oh my, I LOVED This Is How It Always Is. I didn’t know what it was about in the slightest, but so many people recommended it, that I immediately requested it from the library. Based on Frankel’s own experiences with having a boy who early on began identifying as a girl, this book chronicles a set of five brothers, the youngest of whom always felt different. When this feeling becomes evolves into exploration—wearing dresses, putting on makeup, playing with dolls—his parents begin to realize it’s more than just a phase. So they take steps to letting their son become their daughter by moving across the country and completely resetting their lives.

At the root of this story is the message that all families have issues, all families keep secrets—it’s how they choose to deal with them that sets them apart.

**********

Currently I’m reading The Paris Secret and A Gentleman in Moscow, neither of which have really grabbed my attention, but I’ve also got Bad Blood, Becoming, Pete Buttigieg’s Shortest Way Home and Far Away and Further Back, a memoir by my friend Holly’s dad. I guess it’s a non-fiction kind of reading month over here!

What have you read and loved so far this year?

Books a Million, Part XXI: Memoirs, Chick Lit & Growing Up Different published first on https://medium.com/@OCEANDREAMCHARTERS

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Books a Million, Part XXI: Memoirs, Chick Lit & Growing Up Different

Winter tends to be my favorite time to catch up on my reading. From the week of Thanksgiving until midway through January, everyone in the tourism industry seems to disappear—it’s as if conference season is over, their budgets have been planned for the following year, and they’re taking a very lengthy hiatus. I took the opportunity over the holidays and my birthday trip to Puerto Rico to whittle down my 2019 book list, just a smidge.

Here’s everything I’ve read in the past couple months in case you’re heading on a Spring Break or summer trip of your own soon and looking for a good vacation read of your own.

Man in the (Rearview) Mirror by LaRue Cook

I’m at that point in my career where so many peers and friends are publishing books, and I can barely keep up with reading them all. But when a friend sent me a link to LaRue’s book, I bumped it up the chain and immediately ordered the paperback instead of waiting for the Kindle version to drop. LaRue and I started as writers at the UT paper, The Daily Beacon, on the same day; I was 20, he was 18, halfway through his freshman year. We immediately became journalist friends, and I was soon promoted to features editor, he one of my most reliable writers. He later went on to be the editor of the paper after I graduated.

Our lives ran parallel for years; I worked a stint at Entertainment Weekly, and he took over the same job a year or two later. He and his girlfriend at the time, another of my close college pals, moved to NYC in my final months there before moving to California, so I got to spend some time with them as my neighbors while he was getting his feet wet in sports writing for ESPN. But then, he dropped off my radar. He was never on social media back then, despite being younger than me, and I often lose touch with people I can’t track via Facebook and Instagram. I now know that’s partially because he was going through his version of an existential crisis, and after a decade with ESPN, he quit, moved back to Knoxville and became an Uber driver. While doing this (and driving more than 5,000 passengers around town), he wrote a book—a memoir told through the parallel lives of his passengers. A read that covers so many topics in the span of 234 pages: racial inequality, sexual orientation, faith and religion, his own infidelities. It’s always weird reading a memoir by someone you know, as it feels a bit like your peeling back the layers of their soul. I’d love to write something similar someday, but am not sure I’d ever be able to approach it with such honesty as LaRue did. This is a great book for anyone looking for a non-fiction read that examines how losing your pillar at a young age—in this case, LaRue’s dad at 15—can go on to shape a person’s identity as a young adult.

Hum If You Don’t Know the Words by Bianca Marais

I’m still shook by this book. You know that it’s a powerful read if you’re still thinking about it two months later. I started and finished this book at the beach in less than 24 hours, and man, it was some heavy stuff.

Taking place in an 18-month span during the height of apartheid, Hum chronicles the lives of two very different heroines—a nine-year-old white girl whose parents are slain and a 50-year-old black woman who came to the big city to track down her rebel daughter caught up in the Soweto Uprising—and at the heart of the story, impresses upon the reader how no matter the color of our skin, our sexual orientation, our religion or where we were born, no one is any greater or worse than the next human (and that good people do bad things and bad people do good things). Particularly poignant during the racial inequality happening still today, this book really tugged at my heartstrings and should be on everyone’s must-read list.

All The Missing Girls by Megan Miranda

I love me a good mystery, and All the Missing Girls is in a similar vein to Gone Girl and every Mary Kubica book I’ve ever devoured. It starts off with Nicolette, a 28-year-old teacher who had fled her small Appalachian town after high school to move to the big city, returning home to care for her ailing father—and confronting the ghosts of her past, specifically the disappearance of her best friend. Not long after she arrives, another young girl goes missing, and Nicolette makes it her mission to figure out what happened to her—and if it is indeed linked to the same missing girl from a decade prior.

Contrary to what other reviewers have written, I found the pace of this book quick and engaging, and those who like suspense will likely find it entertaining. The only thing I didn’t really care for was the erratic storytelling style in which the author kept jumping a day back in time to set the stage. It made it a bit confusing to piece together the timeline on the reader’s end. Overall, though, I’d read this book again and give it four out of five starts if I were still rating my reads.

Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

We’re never really told what exactly is wrong with Eleanor Oliphant; we just know from the opening lines of the book that she’s different. And that difference takes us through her life in a deadbeat job with no friends or family to call her own, a curious character who becomes overly infatuated with a rockstar she’s never met, to the point where she begins to stalk him, both at gigs and at his own home, and even thinks he’s her boyfriend.

Socially awkward Eleanor is always saying the exact wrong thing, and she’s never even aware she’s the butt of everybody’s jokes in the office. A chance encounter, however, brings her close to a coworker who she previously had written off as uninteresting: She falls into an unexpected friendship with Raymond when they come to the rescue of an older man who has fallen in the street and needs to be taken to the hospital. This book isn’t so much plot-driven, as it is about character development, and Honeyman is a master of that particular trope. Peculiar and uplifting despite its somber undertones—alcoholism, mental illness, child abuse—Eleanor Oliphant was one of the most unexpectedly endearing books I read in the past year. The cadence of Eleanor’s narrating takes a bit of getting used to, but once you insert yourself into her mind, reading in her voice becomes second nature.

The High Season by Judy Blundell

The premise of this book—an artist and gallery curator, Ruthie, dealing with a separation who longs to keep her life in a sleepy Long Island coastal town in one piece when everything around her seems to be falling apart—made me think this was going to be a beach read (or maybe the fact that it was actually set on an island did that). But it was a bit, well, sleepier than that. It took nearly halfway through the book until I even knew what it was really about: Ruthie’s failed marriage, her career crumbling at the hands of her board and coming to grips with everything changing around her, including the loss of her home and her daughter, who is midway through high school. There was a socialite aspect to this book I kind of liked when the Hampton set arrived in the North Fork for the summer; it brought a little Sex and the City edge and scandal to what was dragging on as a mundane novel to that point.

In the end, this book was fine; not great, not terrible. I liked the art gallery aspect of it; the fact that SVV and I are part of so many groups and on various art boards these days made the book a bit more relatable. If I still gave ratings, this one would get two-and-a-half stars: very slow in parts, but enough of a story to hold my interest till the end.

The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillroy

The Wedding Date is, hands down, one of the worst books I have read ever. I am still shocked it got such positive ratings on Good Reads and Amazon—does no one read for content anymore?! I stuck with it kept waiting for the plot to develop and … nothing. In the opening pages of the book, Alexa meets Drew in an elevator, then soon after agrees to be his fake wedding date to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding. The two fall into an on-again, off-again romance, and there’s just no storyline AT ALL.

I never read any of the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy, but I imagine it was a lot like this: heavy on the sex scenes, light on the content. No thanks, not my jam. It’s a shame, too, as this could have been a powerful tale about interracial relationships and the trials faced by both side, but instead it was just plain garbage.

When Life Gives You Lululemons by Lauren Weisberger

If you loved The Devil Wears Prada, you’ll be happy to see that Lauren Weisberger is back many years later with another follow-up tale that chronicles Miranda Priestley’s assistant Emily Charlton as she navigates life’s changes after her time at Runway. (Side note: Somehow I must have missed the second in the series, Revenge Wears Prada? Anyone read it?) Emily is a fixer, an image consultant of sorts for the Hollywood set, and when her career starts to falter, she takes a job in Greenwich, Conn., trying to help a former supermodel navigate a scandal involving her senator husband while also suffering life in the suburbs.

I’ve read every other book of Weisberger’s, and while none can compare to Devil, this one is satisfying for anyone who loved the original.

Crazy, Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan

I’ll admit that I had no desire to read this book until I saw the movie trailer. Then, I immediately signed up for it at my local library, but was approximately 368th on the list, no exaggeration, so it took ages to land in my inbox. And when it finally did, it was worth the wait—nothing at all like I expected.

Rachel Chu is a professor at NYU whose boyfriends Nicky invites her back to Singapore with him for his best friend’s wedding; little does she know, his family is basically Singapore royalty. Despite the fact that she’s Asian-American—she never knew her father, but her mother was a Chinese immigrant—many members of Nick’s snobby family doesn’t give her the time of day, particularly his mom who is out to destroy their relationship. What follows is a fascinating look into how the upper crust, the social-climbers for whom dropping a cool million on a pair of earrings is an everyday occurrence, live—private planes! private clubs! private islands!—in one of the world’s most extravagant, over-the-top cities. One of my dear friends is a Singapore native, and I fact-checked much the book with her—she says it’s very accurate to the 1% there and even knows the families upon whom the book is based.

I then watched the movie on a recent flight and was equally pleased by it. I suppose next up I’ll be reading the second and third installments of this trilogy—please tell me they’re as entertaining as the first?

The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine

You know the kind of book you think is going to end one way, then midway through, you’re hit with a whammy and completely left off-guard? That’s The Last Mrs. Parrish to a tee. Amber Patterson is a con-artist who weasels her way into heiress Daphne Parrish’s world of excess by becoming her friend in Single White Female fashion—later going as far as trying to become her, attempting to take over her husband and her home. The book ping-pongs between narrators, both Amber and Daphne, and there’s really no way to tell you anymore of the plot of Amber’s metamorphosis into Daphne without spoiling any of the zingers, of which there are many. Go. Read. This. Book!

I’m really, really hoping The Last Mrs. Parrish gets made into a movie starring (or produced by) Reese Witherspoon.

This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel

Oh my, I LOVED This Is How It Always Is. I didn��t know what it was about in the slightest, but so many people recommended it, that I immediately requested it from the library. Based on Frankel’s own experiences with having a boy who early on began identifying as a girl, this book chronicles a set of five brothers, the youngest of whom always felt different. When this feeling becomes evolves into exploration—wearing dresses, putting on makeup, playing with dolls—his parents begin to realize it’s more than just a phase. So they take steps to letting their son become their daughter by moving across the country and completely resetting their lives.

At the root of this story is the message that all families have issues, all families keep secrets—it’s how they choose to deal with them that sets them apart.

**********

Currently I’m reading The Paris Secret and A Gentleman in Moscow, neither of which have really grabbed my attention, but I’ve also got Bad Blood, Becoming, Pete Buttigieg’s Shortest Way Home and Far Away and Further Back, a memoir by my friend Holly’s dad. I guess it’s a non-fiction kind of reading month over here!

What have you read and loved so far this year?

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