#I hate to see your mental well-being go through such turmoil again

[ninyard]

The book’s gonna have to be pretty long to get to the championships though I think, since iirc the school year hasnt even really started yet by the end of TSC (I could be wrong though)

I think you’re right! I mean the first game of the season is only near the end of tfc (right before Kathy’s show is the first game iirc) but I’m pretty sure Jeremy’s thing in the blurb of TSC is that he wants a championship title so it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s the point of tsc2. but you are right that there’s like a good few months we’ll have to get through to get to the championship finals

(Maybe Nora will realise how long it’ll have to be and DAMN she’ll have to make it a trilogy….damn what a shame…..)

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 ⟡ 𝚓𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜' 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; after training with james for a few weeks, people have started calling you his . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁1.3k

⟢ warnings/tags: coworker!james, coworker!marauders, slightly anxious!reader, not proofread

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: i hate seafood but i keep putting it on my fictional restaurants menu ? kept this one pretty simple so i could get it out there <3

"Crab cakes, go." James says, eyes darting up from the menu he's holding to look at you from across the rickety staff room table.

You don't miss a beat, describing the dish as you would to a customer, "The crab cakes are one of our most popular appetizers. They're pan seared and served with sofrito escabeche, a zesty blend of onions, bell peppers, and tomatoes—so I highly recommend them if you're looking for something tangy—and they have a to die for berbere aioli drizzle."

"Tell me more about the berbere aioli. What is that?" James questions, playing the part of a curious customer.

"The berbere aioli is a spicy-chili sauce that I'd say is just shy of medium in terms of spice level. It complements the crab cakes really well, but you could always order it on the side if you're not too sure about it."

"That's my girl," James praises, "You're a quick learner, you know that?"

"I don't know about that," you protest, looking down at your hands that lay politely folded on the table in front of you. You try to mentally will yourself not to blush at James' approval.

"It's barely over a week since you started and you know this thing like the back of your hand," James argues, gently tossing the menu down as he leans back in his chair, "And there's so little time to sit and study here."

You have a funny look on your face when you meet James' eyes again, eliciting a gasp from him.

"You've been studying the menu outside of work, haven't you?" he squints, speaking in an accusatory tone.

"Shouldn't I?" you ask, and the fact that it's a genuine question has James clutching his chest over his heart.

"No! You never think about work unless you're getting paid!"

"How else am I supposed to learn this whole menu in a timely manner?" you cross your arms defensively.

"Who said anything about a timely manner, Love. I was weeks out of training before I had the whole thing down."

"Yeah, well you're more..." you trail off, trying to find the words.

"More what?" James is quick to sound defensive.

You put your hands up as a sign of innocence, "Just laid back. You're a go with the flow kind of guy. As opposed to me, who's more-"

James interjects, "Stuck in your head," nodding along without a doubt that that's what you were going to say.

You look at James, a bit of surprise and alarm swirling around in the pit of your stomach. He was spot on, but how could he possibly be? He barely knows you, after all.

"What?" James seems to sense your confusion, "I've noticed the turmoil in those eyes of yours. You're doing it right now."

You look bashful, so James graciously changes the subject.

"Whatever, just promise me you won't ever think about this place when you're off the clock again!"

"Promise," you agree, despite his request being impossible.

For whatever reason, your mind seems to always be on work. Not even in a stressed, overthinking way like you'd expect from yourself. It seemed to be little random tidbits from work infiltrating your mind throughout your days. Like sometimes, you randomly think of a joke James said once. Or you see something funny and want to show it to him. Or you think about how nice James is when you mess something up.

Okay, maybe they're not so random after all.

"What're you thinking about?" James interrupts your thoughts.

Just as you're about to start stammering through an excuse, Mary pops her head into the room.

"There you guys are!" she says, "I just sat you guys. Table six."

"Thanks, Mary. We'll be right there." James responds.

"I had Peter bring them some waters because I couldn't find you guys for a while—oh, he's back today by the way, did you know?" Mary asks, but doesn't stick around for James to answer, "I have to get back. Table six, guys!" Her voice echoes the reminder as she's already disappeared from your sights.

James shakes his head at her, amused by the way she jumps from one thing to the next without taking a breath.

"Peter?" you question as you and James begin to stand from the table.

"Yeah, he does bussing and some food running, a helping hand for us servers, really. He was on vacation." James explains as you follow him out into the dining room.

Your eyes fall on table six, a table for two that beholds two kind looking older ladies.

"You think you can handle this?" James juts his chin in their direction.

"Yeah," you say confidently. You have already taken the lead on some tables while James supervised. So far, it's been going well. Your first table you had to ask James to help answer some questions—maybe that's why you wanted to learn the menu so quick, it made you feel sheepish—but after that one time, James hasn't had any notes.

"Alright, I'm gonna check on our other tables then."

"Wait," you gave yourself whiplash with the way you craned your neck swiftly to look at him, "You meant handle it alone?"

"Yeah," James looks down at you reassuringly, his eyes filled with warmth, "You can do it."

"Uhh-? No, what if I-"

"Get out of that pretty little head of yours," he interrupts, "You've got this."

The sincerity in his tone incited a bit of confidence in you.

"Okay, okay. Okay sure," your shaky voice became a little more steady with each word, and you started walking to the table.

"Wait!" James carefully takes hold of your wrist. The progress you had made in easing your nerves is out the window.

"You'll need this," James slides his server book out from his apron and held it out to you.

"Right," you say quietly, smiling as you took it from him.

His hand fell from your wrist as he bid you good luck. He watches you for a moment as you greet the table, a proud gleam in his eyes.

Marlene appears beside James, a tray of waters and soft drinks balancing on her palm, "Your girl's taking orders on her own now?"

"Just the one table for today," James replies.

Marlene hums approvingly and saunters off to deliver the drinks.

James registers her words only when she's already left, "Wait, my who now?" he asks the wall.

His furrowed brows relax as he decides he kind of likes the sound of it.

After checking on your other tables, getting refills and putting new food orders in, James notices a congregation of his coworkers at the host stand so he decides to join in.

"Who's that?" Peter asks, swinging a rag over his shoulder.

Lily follows Peter's gaze to you, who's delivering some bread and butter to table six.

"James' girl?" Lily questions, "She started last week, she's been doing pretty well so far I think."

"Any reason in particular we're calling her that?" James decides to ask on his approach, having heard that phrase twice in under ten minutes.

"Ah, well, she hardly talks to anyone else." Marlene drawls.

"Eh, she's just a bit skittish," James provides an excuse for you, "it's kind of cute."

Lily and Mary share a look.

James continues, "She'll get used to you guys soon enough, just be nice." He really only says the last part to Marlene.

"I am nice," she defends.

"Well, you're not mean," Mary offers and Marlene scowls at her.

James chuckles, and turns to Peter, "How 'ave you been, mate?"

Peter opens his mouth to share details of his vacation, but he's interrupted.

"What are you all doing up here?" Nate hisses, appearing suddenly as if out of thin air, "You know how bad it looks for nearly my entire staff to be slacking off in the front of the restaurant?"

Before anyone can disperse or defend themselves, Nate continues, "And you're supposed to be training, Potter. Where's your girl?"

"Me?" your choked voice rings from behind him.

Everyone peers over at you, standing there shellshocked and blushing with a pitcher of water in your hands.

[exhelluvafan]

TW: mentions of abuse, rape and coercion below the cut, proceed at your own risk!

I want to see Stolas rotting alone in his miserable life while Blitz gets to live his best life after leaving behind that horrible owl incel rapist shitstain and doesn't even bother checking up with Stolas while Blitz spends time with his colleagues, his daughter and with Fizz, y'know, actually progressing as a person and healing from all the severe shit that Stolas put him through?

But of course, Viv and co. won't allow this because they need gay porn to jerk off to, fuck this shit, I hope Striker finally lands the headshot over that fuckass owl twink, and if it doesn't happen in canon, then I'll draw it or write it myself, because THAT'S how much I hate the Stolitz ship and Stolas himself, and while yes, Blitz isn't a saint, that doesn't mean he deserved to be trapped in a coercive deal for a fucking full year, being raped monthly, with no other choice than to comply to his abuser's whims.

"B-but Stolas already had set him free through the crystal! Wasn't that a show of pure love coming from him?!"

...and? Now suddenly Blitz SHOULD thank Stolas and suddenly go OOC to say "Oh, thank you so much, my dear prince, now allow me to share a romantic moment while completely disregarding the fact that you sexually abused me for a year!"?

Fuck no, I'd rather see Blitz healing by himself or through the support of his colleagues and Fizz, and maybe Ozzie as well, but keeping that owl far, FAR away from Blitz.

And it doesn't matter if Stolas is autistic, or is socially inept, or is he's X thing, yadda yadda yadda, that doesn't erase the fact that he abused Blitz for a whole year, a whole year of emotional and mental turmoil for Blitz, which he only managed to push through because of his business, and lending the crystal doesn't change shit, if anything, Stolas finally allowed Blitz to escape from the deal, not before gaslighting and shedding crocodile tears at Blitz for not loving him back despite all that being a fucking delusion of his part, and this whole awful behavior was reinforced in Apology Tour, showing Stolas' true abusive behaviors and most mask-off we've seen him this far.

Also, allow me to lend a secret with you, coming from an empathetic and sentimental guy:

If Stolas TRULY loved Blitz and did lend the crystal as a selfless act... he would've never asked for ANYTHING in return, because, when you do something out of love, it's out of SELFLESSNESS, what Stolas did was just do a favor to Blitz and expect Blitz to immediately grovel over to his bird feet and "love" him back, which Blitz obviously doesn't do because Stolas made it pretty clear that he doesn't give a fuck about Blitz outside of the sexual stuff.

Since Viv's Hell has laws and shit, I'm genuinely baffled at the fact that Blitz hasn't asked for a distance order to force Stolas to NOT interact with him ever again, and well, then I remember that the law thing only appears when it's convenient, so it turns out that it's pointless either way.

I just...

How's this even a ship to begin with? This whole shit is built-up upon lies, coercion, and rape, what the actual fuck is wrong with those who sees this as acceptable?

[papabearbobbynash]

Hi, it's the anon asking about Bobby earlier. Thank you for the reply 🙏🏻

Yes, I get Athena going to seek revenge. If anything season 7 really shows how Bobby's and Athena's story has intertwined. We get to see that by Bobby's trauma resurfaced again by seeing Amir Athena was also spiralling because she has trauma of losing Emmet her first love. That's why Athena was so scared of losing Bobby. We see her paying attention the his behaviour and able to confront him about it. We get to see the deep love shared by Bobby and Athena. That's what makes their story so beautiful. Two people who are meant to be after they both suffered great losses.

Though i hate to see their house burned down but it's great symbolism for next season when they build a new house together like their building a new chapter of their lives together. Hope Michael would be there to help them rebuild. I miss the shenanigans of Michael and Bobby. Bobby needs a best friend outside of 118.

But back to the finale, why didn't they make it a 2 hour finale. And yes I don't really like the daddy kink conversation right after Buck admitted that Bobby is the father he never had. It would be better if Buck said it in the hospital then Tommy follow that up when they were alone you know. And the finale could end with everyone were at Bobby's bedside and he was just opening his eyes. I love to scene where Athena was running to Bobby. It was a beautiful scene. Personally I would go crazy if they left Bobby in a coma until next season 😅. Maybe have the chief visited Bobby in a hospital declining his resignation but inform the 118 that while Bobby is healing Gerrard would take over. That would be a great cliffhanger.

Thanks papabear 🙏🏻

Hi! Thanks again for asking me 🙏🏻

Oh don't get me wrong, them leaving Bobby's life hanging in the balance for the finale would wreck my stressed mind 😂 (i was spiralling so hard for 3 weeks straight, imagine whole months? I would go insane, but at least i would look forward with much more interest than with that stinky man leading the team in such an anti-climatic reveal).

Idk I think after we get spoiled about a cliffhanger in the finale, that being it was something else (derogatory)... especially by how rushed it was.

Anyway, at least there are indeed stuff to look forward. Hopefully as someone pointed to me, this arc with Gerard might provide us a compensation with 118 realising and reflecting on how close they were of losing Bobby after it's revealed to them he did quit his job. We could get stronger reactions from

Buck: because that is his father and he almost lost him without knowing.

Chimney: who knew about the suicidal mentality Bobby had before and would connect the dots.

Eddie: because as it's pointed in interviews, Bobby is one of his rocks and would be great to see both trying to help each other considering the turmoil they're facing in their lives. I mean Bobby knows in quite literal way what is like to feel you failed your children and Eddie he was in a dark mindset not long ago and would be great to see him help Bobby again like in S5 or to Bobby help him with once again considering what Eddie is going through.

Hen: Knowing how hard she went to rescue him in the beginning of the season, defying orders and all, and how much overshadowed it is their relationship in general, where people believe they're more "besties" due her being Athena's besties, even though Bobby has been quite fatherly to her as well and she admires him, we should definitely get more about it than just a numbed reaction to him in the bed shifting to "where is Athena".

However I hope the storyline with Gerard it's not only about that ofc, because we definitely need the focus on Hen and Chimney regarding that man's behavior as they are the parts most affected by this change in the line of command considering their history with that a**ole, and i would be pissed off if the writers ignored their mindsets on that.

Also talking about Athena. I believe she spiraling due Bobby's behavior and acting recklessly was more from her reminding of May's suicidal attempt than from Emmet. I think she started to notice the signs Bobby was giving and panicked, because she knew exactly what was the road he was walking into. I think Emmet callback only hit her in the hospital since she woke up and had the impression Bobby might not wake up, what is basically the same way Emmet was gone. She only knew when he was already dead, when she couldn't do anything to prevent his death and was only left to pick the pieces of a painful enigma that was to find the culprit, because this was the only thing she could do for Emmet. So yeah I think in terms of emotional work we actually got quite great Athena work regarding how she faced the possibility of losing Bobby, because she was going through it, even if it was mixed up with a very questionable behavior (although i expected it because she has been like this since S1) Ending this with happier thoughts! I can't wait for bathena house hunting shenanigans, the domesticity of it all, more May and Harry, maybe they even bring Charlie for the picture (although they could have done this in this season to bridge Bobby's childhood flashback in a stronger meaningful way than the desert) but mostly important, I hope a better insight in how are they doing after their argument, in how they are dealing with the dark mindset Bobby just went through, because almost dying twice in a spam of 2 months is not a proper or recommended way of solving communication problems 😂

[eunoiaastralwings]

Caranthir x Reader request

“Everything’s going to be okay”

With Reader being really sad and having a bit of a breakdown/in emotional turmoil because of poor mental health.

Definitely hurt/comfort from our favorite strawbaby

The Lasting Effect of Your Embrace

featuring caranthir x reader

fandom tolkien — the silmarillion

warnings mental health

a/n @theladyvanya when i say I squealed seeing this request - I did really really did ! ! ! One hurt comfort right here for our dearest and favorite strawbaby

Your breathing was shaky as you laid on your side on the bed you shared with your beloved husband. 

The day had started with bright sunlight and there were laughs and giggles erupting from you - but as the day continued suddenly it was overwhelming.

Then - slowly each smile or laugh was exhausting to pull and your shoulders had slouched.

Standing in front of people was taking up more energy than it should - as you constantly felt self-conscious at every stare or hushed whisper.

To a point you felt like you were suffocating - you retreated to your room, trying to drown yourself in your bed.

Caranthir’s spiced scent gave you a little comfort - but it was not enough especially as the tears you had tried to keep at bay rushed forward through your trembling lips.

You tears soaked the sheets - melting away his scent and it only made you cry harder. You had woken up in a good mood - only for something to plague your mind enough to exhaust into turmoil of emotions.

Caranthir’s feet rushed across the halls into your shared chambers - you had retreated to your bed early.

He knew well enough to know that wasn’t ever a good sign - you wouldn’t suddenly drop your duties on the ground and hide away.

Your husband sighed - hearing you even before he had opened the door. You closed the windows shut and drew the curtains shut, retreating yourself into a dark little corner.

He gulped - Caranthir’s heart clenching at the sound of your muffled sobs. He made his way over to you, sitting on the edge of bed near your side and he looked upon you. . .the one he cherished and loved most in all of Arda and Valinor.

You had curled yourself into a ball - wanting to escape from the world around you - your knees hugged to your chest as your breathing was in fast pants followed by your sobs.

Your heartbeat was quick and your breath was hitching - with shaky hands you tried to cover yourself up and away from him - making him shy and his eyebrow knitted together in a small, concerning frown.

“My love. . .look at me. . .”

“N-No. . .”

You said weakly - with a small hiccup, scooting away into the middle of the bed. The whimper made his heart ache inside his chest - to see his beloved wife so emotionally broken.

“Let me, my dearest. . .”

Caranthir said - his voice was a little whisper. The roughness it usually held was nowhere to be heard and the permanent scowl were nowhere to be found - instead his features were soft, lacing with a little of the worry that was caging him as he saw.

He laid down beside you - his head resting beside yours and he looked at you pleading. If there was anything Caranthir hated most in the most it was seeing you cry and suffering. 

He wished to take it away with the snap of his figures - to permanently discard your self-loathing and self-worth problems - because in his eyes you were the definition of perfection. 

Sometimes Caranthir couldn’t understand it - because when he looked at you, he saw everything - you were his anchor and he hoped to be the same for you.

Even though time and time - Caranthir had explained many times do not believe what your thoughts tell you and that he was here for you, he knew there was nothing he could do whenever this dark cloud tormented your thoughts to pick apart and rip away your happiness, than to hold you tightly, yet gently against him and reassure again.

Everyone needed reassurance from time to time - and he was more than happy to give it to you without any hesitation.

“Come here, my love. . .”

Even though you had protested weakly, it still did not stop from curling right into Caranthir’s arms as he placed his hand on your cheek for a moment - before he brushed it down to your waist and pulled you closer to his warm embrace - that was your haven.

He silently wrapped his arms around you - and you melted right into the safe haven he provided with his safe arms.

It felt like nothing could get to you here - you were safe and sound even from your own mind.

Caranthir held you tightly and firmly, yet gently and endearingly - gently rocking you as he brushed your hair and placed several kisses here and there.

“I am merely an idiot, am I not?”

You mumbled - making a return of his usual scowl.

“I will not have anyone speak of my spouse in such a manner.”

He grunted - his voice was rough and guarded but not even Caranthir, himself, could deny the undeniable love that laced behind his voice.

“You’re wonderful, my love - and I promise you. . .Everything’s going to be okay. . .I am right here, my darling dear. . .”

He said - pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and coaxed you to a much needed sleep and his arms never left you.

Truly, no one has ever loved anyone as much as Caranthir loved you. . .

Taglist form

tara's taglist: @wandererindreams @fizzyxcustard @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @asianbutnotjapanese @floraroselaughter @mismaeve

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

[staysinvegas]

Alright I'm breaking my hiatus for this acc for this one post. The whole Build situation is really really shitty. Given the fact that I don't know any of them personally and I'm not God, I don't know who's right and who's wrong. Maybe it's wrong on both their parts I don't know. I will not be taking any sides. All I want to say is, please don't drag the other boc actors into this. Don't go commenting on Bible's posts asking him if he supports Build. Don't go to Tong or Apo's accounts to look for "evidence". Please don't turn toxic and hateful towards them because I'm sure all of us are mature enough to understand how sensitive an issue this already is without the fans aggravating it. Please also understand how difficult it must be for the other actors, especially Bible, right now. Although he isn't directly involved, we all know how their names have been so closely associated for the past couple of years. Also, having to build up that kind of chemistry with a brand new person all over again must be a tough process for Bible so he can work on new projects.

Let's just hope boc learns how to actually manage their employees and handle situations like these in the future. Let's also pray whoever was at fault gets the punishment they deserve. I know it's hard to go through this turmoil as a fandom but I believe we can do this. I repeat, let's NOT TURN TOXIC towards the other actors or even towards each other.

As far as kp or vegaspete go, they're fictional characters. Do not associate them with the actors portraying them. Also, for the sake of your own mental well-being, do not let parasocial relationships take up more of your life than they should.

Please stay kind towards each other. I love this show and this cast and this fandom and I'd hate to see the magic get ruined 💜

[lionguarded]

Oberyn sipped his tea, quietly, well aware of the turmoil going inside Silas. But that one he couldn't handle for the other omega. "Denial only takes you so far with an alpha so fond of words as yours is." His voice was a smooth as the blade of a dagger. And his words just as sharp. Silas could be a deadly combatant. But Oberyn was walking in his own turf. Just as Dante seemed to despise Lies… Oberyn despised idiocy. "Aw. Poor thing. The sheer, utter torment of being loved. Can be maddening I guess…" He's seen it happen. To his sire. And he'd rather not have it happen to him. But he was also not above making that kind of comment. "And by the same person that gave you a mating mark no less. Oh sweet Cynthia how tortuous it must be."

There was no mercy in Oberyn for the alpha and Silas jumping into his defense only added to the sharpness of his words. He didn't mean to hurt Silas but he honestly hoped that the omega could see the light and realize the imbecility of his own words. "To be loved and marked by an alpha who's good looking. Being chosen by the very alpha that could have plenty pretty things throwing themselves at him on a whim and with a snap of his fingers. And still… He actually goes through the trouble of seeking you. Of being good to your youngest cub. Of actually paying attention to the things your oldest likes and although twisting it to his own amusement still trying to make something nice for him. How very manipulative of him… Playing nice guy and douchebag at the same time… He must be one hell of an actor. If only Holliwood knew…" He commented and got up to get himself more tea. There was always tea to be had with Oberyn at the store.

"Come again, my dear? If you let him in? That imbecile barged in, made himself at home and you were too busy getting fucked stupid to kick him out by the balls. And now he's grown root. And you're hopelessly in love with an imbecile… While also in denial. Have you been through bargaining, and depression too or just anger? He said he loves you. Well, he loves to run his mouth and he hates lies so it's not a wrong assumption to think he actually means that. You ran. Fine. Stick around. Drink your tea. Overthink. Over worry. Pace. Spend all that pent up energy. Then decide what you're going to do next. Go back to him. Say it back or not. It's not my decision to make, Silas. It's yours. I don't like your alpha, my friend. But he seems… Decent enough to respect your time on that at least."

@ofwings-andclaws; good thing we didn't have to recover from the intensity of the bitch slapping for a few days no...

oberyn was way too comfortable raining down on him, definitely. silas had come to him - torn & confused, in dire need of mental support & what he found was ... this. little pout on his lips, he glanced away, letting his head drop on his hands, which he had placed on the table he sat at. "easy to make fun o' something you avoid like the plague yourself." soft sigh. did he realize he was apparently running from love? yes. did that help him in his current mindset? nope.

neither did it fix the insecurity he struggled with. "he didn't seek me." it... had been silas. his anger had drawn him right into dante's trap. before he even realized he'd fallen for his ... whatever & ended up unable to pull himself out of that hole he fell in because of him. "i..." ugh, he couldn't even admit it. he'd admit how stupid he'd been. "i started it. i wasn't meaning to... get here. he was a fuckin' menace back home, i wanted to put an end to it." he clearly didn't. quite the opposite. "you know he's both." was he amazing with the kids? yes. was he the epitome of a douchebag - if he wanted to be? yes. did silas mind? not really. "i'm not....saying he ain't... great." the issue wasn't dante lacking. it was... not that. it was the maybe's. it was the what ifs. it was the fear of accepting this fully & falling on his face.

"..." he... wasn't wrong. fuckin' dante did barge in & made himself at home, but silas .. he'd let him. he put up a fight at first, yes, but ... not really. he'd been lost since their first night at the tavern. that fire between them. the only time silas ever felt alive since leaving the royal city was when he felt alpha bones break under his knuckles. enter dante. he brought that life to him - silas had chased it regardless, but .. it was different entirely. almost suffocating. then there was ..... okay, yeah... maybe oberyn was right.

blush on his cheeks, he - once again, let his face drop on the table, though his hands caught it before he could do serious damage. he... did let dante ... do that. he'd been so long in the ecstasy he didn't notice the claws in his tail - not until dante had a foot in his door. permanently. soft groan, "shut uuuuup." oberyn was insufferable when right, silas hated it with a passion, all of this. everything. he knew dante wasn't lying. he didn't doubt the alpha felt the way he said. he didn't doubt him for a second. dante didn't lie. never did, never would. again, not the problem. it was so much more complicated than that.

but... the most important question was if silas wanted their relationship to end... like this. did he? no. definitely not. he already felt himself grow restless without the other around & that was only when they were at work - not a lifetime apart. fuck. he was a fuckin' goner. he'd just have to risk it... wouldn't he? he was either in, or out. but in .. meant all-in at this point & if he lost.. well, he'd ...he could go back to the way things were & he'd have yet another reason to despite alphas in their entirety. win, win? maybe.

"anybody ever tell you you suck at this?" little grumble, glancing up from where his head rested on his hands on the table. he came for advice.. not a punch in the face. still. at least he spoke his mind. "...guess i gotta go back." apologize for bolting, though he assumed dante had somewhat expected as much by now. silas was not a mystery to him. unfortunately. he couldn't run forever. he had to face him, time wouldn't fix the problem, but .. he also couldn't fix it if he ran from him. no, only choice he had was to .. try.

[wmupuck]

"You don't gotta explain yourself," Puck shrugged, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "I mean, I was kinda a dumbass back then. I would've been hesitant to go to me, too. And I know how close you and your dad were." The more deranged part of him wanted to hop in his truck, drive to the Fabray's, and finally take out all the anger he'd harnessed for her father out on him right then. If he were younger, stupider, he might've. But it didn't seem worth it now. All Puck could do was try his best to ensure nothing like that ever happened to her again. He placed a finger over her lips, sushing her playfully. "Hey, none of that. You didn't ruin anything. We needed to talk, didn't we? Sure, I didn't expect...well, any of that, and I still can't really wrap my head around it, but I'm really glad you told me." He slid his hand over, palm cupping her jaw as his voice grew more serious. "I hate the way I acted when everything went down. I was a dick to you, Q. Being left, you acting like I didn't exist, I don't know...I guess it just set something off in me. I was petty, and bitter, and just really, really shitty to you. And I swore to myself that if I ever got lucky enough to be like this with you again, that I'd try and do things right. Do right by you. So yeah, I'm gonna be sweet to you. I'm gonna do whatever I can not to fuck this up like before. I want you in my life, and I wanna be in yours." Puck fell silent, and he lost himself in her familiar eyes for a moment. The eyes of the only person he'd ever been sure of in life. The only person to never make him feel like a colossal screwup. He'd never been able to fathom how someone like Quinn could ever see him the way she did, make him want to be better the way she did, but he was beyond grateful for it. His breathing slowed back to normal when she grabbed his pinky, and his lips curved up into a tentative smile. Puck wanted to tell her that she deserved everything, things he wasn't sure he could ever give to her, but he didn't. They'd both been through enough emotional turmoil for one day. Instead, Puck tightened his arm around her, pressing his lips to her temple and allowing himself to enjoy the contentment that washed over him. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Fabray. The day I say I'm sick of you, you should drive me to go get an evaluation or something, 'cause clearly my mental is all kinds of fucked up." 

Puck closed his eyes, burying his face in her hair. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and took a breath, lungs filling with the smell of her familiar shampoo. He still couldn't wrap his head around anything he'd just heard. The fact that Quinn had given birth without him even knowing, the fact that there was a child, their child, out there, it was the strangest mix of feelings he'd ever experienced. As Quinn began her explaination, he sat up straighter, grabbing her hand. He brought it up to his face, brushing his lips against her knuckles before intertwining their fingers. He wanted her to feel comfortable in telling him, and to know that he wasn't going anywhere. His jaw locked in place as she revealed she'd went to her father. Puck knew that it had to have ended terribly. It always had with her dad. But when she got further into the story, his blood grew boiling hot. It made him physically sick to think of her going through that, especially knowing she was all alone, miles and miles away from Lima. All of the anger Puck had built up towards her for ignoring him all that time slowly washed away. It was easier to hold against her when he didn't know the whole story. Now that he did, all he could do was hold her tighter against his chest. By the time she was finished, Puck couldn't pinpoint a single emotion. He was feeling too much. All he knew was that his throat burned, and there was a dreadful heaviness in his chest. "Why didn't you just come to me first, Q?" He rasped, and it took him a moment to realize he'd even vocalized the thought. "I could've helped you. I would've helped you. Taken care of you. Both of you." That was still surreal to him. There was a little girl out there in the world, walking around with their DNA, and neither of them would ever look her in the eyes. He moved to wipe her tears again, swallowing hard to clear the lump in his throat. "Don't be sorry. It was an impossible situation. It just pisses me off, thinking about you going through that all alone." Puck rubbed her wet cheek affectionately. "I wish you would've just come to me. I wouldn't have let any of that shit happen to you. We could'a made it work. But I know why you did it. I would've been scared shitless, too. It's just...a lot to take in." Puck brushed a loose hair away, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to say, but he couldn't piece together the words. So, he settled for something sweet and lighthearted, hoping to bring back that smile he loved so much. "I still see you the same, you know. What you just told me...it didn't change my mind about anything. It actually just confirms what I've known for a pretty long time now -- that you're the strongest person I've ever met. And you're gonna have to try a lot harder to scare me away, 'cause I ain't going anywhere. Especially not now. I'm telling you, you're gonna get sick of me."

[acey-wacey]

Loathing

Pairing - Ace Trappola x Reader

Synopsis - You and Ace have butted heads since before you can remember but a series of unfortunate accidents leaves you forced to confront your feelings for each other.

Genre - childhood enemies to lovers, fluff, platonic fluff

Notes - have any of you seen Princess Diaries 2??

I live for platonic Grim fluff as well as wingman Grim

"Ugh! I hate him!"

Grim was launched out of his sweet dreams as you collapsed onto the couch he just so happened to be napping on. The cat rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his paw and turned around to scold you.

"Can you believe who got me in trouble with Professor Crewel today?"

Grim went still and groaned, knowing what that tone of voice meant.

"Is it Ace?" he said dryly.

"It's always Ace!" you exclaimed loudly, making Grim jump with fright. You groaned and leaned back into the couch. "He was screwing around in class and when he messed up my potion, I got in trouble for it. Can you believe it, Grim?"

You stood up from the couch forcefully and began pacing around the room. "Who does he think he is? That little son of a bandersnatch! He's always screwing around in class, he flirts with me just to make fun of me, and he's so headstrong! I can't deal with him!"

"He's headstrong like you?" Grim muttered, amused by your turmoil. You gasped in offense.

"I am not headstrong! It's Ace! He's the one who gets in trouble all the time! At least I can keep my mouth shut!" You ran a nervous hand through your hair and clenched your jaw together. "When I get my hands on him, I'm going to..."

"What? Kiss him?"

"Exactly! Wait, what?"

"Everybody can see you two have got a thing for each other," Grim yawned and curled back onto the couch, unbothered by the look of disgust you wore. "That kid just sucks at showing it. It's one of those dumb playground crush phenomenons. He likes you so he throws wood chips at you."

You gasped in complete revulsion as if you were having a physical reaction to Grim's suggestion.

"As if, Grim!" you laughed in disbelief, mentally stuffing Grim's observation into a "forget me" bottle. You began pacing around the room again in what you would claim to be frustration, although Grim could spot the flustered blush on your neck. "First of all, I hate him. Even suggesting that I would ever like someone like Ace makes me want to puke. Second, he's smarter than to think being mean to me would make me like him! He could figure out how to impress me and it sure isn't by messing with me? If he did want to show me he liked me then maybe he'd show off when he knows I'm watching one of his basketball games or flirt with me or leave little love notes on my desk..."

Grim interrupted your lovesick musings with a loud clearing of his throat. You shook your head to shake yourself out of those thoughts. No, you definitely hadn't thought about how Ace would court you! It would be silly to think things like that about your mortal enemy.

"And third, you are a delusional little cat and you don't know what you're talking about!" you huffed proudly, as if that would complete your argument.

"Meanie!" Grim yowled at you, curling up in the corner of the couch away from you. You sat down next to him and inched your hand towards him compassionately.

"Aw, come on, Grim. I didn't mean it," you admired ruefully. Grim just huffed and turned his head into the couch. "You know I love you."

Grim peeked out from the couch to eye you suspiciously before nuzzling into your hand.

"There we go, my pretty kitty."

"Don't think you're off the hook, henchman!" Grim hissed in a way that would've been threatening if he weren't curled up into a furry ball. He climbed over to sit on your lap and curled up into your stomach instead of in the couch. "And I am not your pretty kitty. I'm a big strong fearsome wizard and everybody fears me."

You giggled as he yawned, showing all his pointy teeth before drifting off to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, my big, strong, fearsome wizard."

...

You sighed in satisfaction as you did up the last gold button on your dark blue suit. It was designed by yourself specifically for the unbirthday party you had been invited to by none other than the Heartslabyul dorm leader himself. Your white lace cravat brought out the dark velvet details on the hem of your coat. You admired yourself in the mirror once more before checking the time.

"Sevens, I'm late," you cursed to yourself, rushing out of your room. You waved goodbye to Grim and made your way to the Heartslabyul gardens where all the dorm members were already waiting.

"I'm here!" you exclaimed as you burst into the garden unceremoniously, struggling to catch your breath. Another quick peek at your pocket watch told you you were one minute to being late. You breathed a sigh of relief before looking up at Riddle with a pleading expression. "Please don't be angry."

"Y/N."

The glare you were receiving from Riddle was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You rushed to your assigned seat with a sheepish look on your face.

"Don't you know it's rude to be late to a tea party?" Riddle sighed in exasperation. The other dorm members held their breaths, fully expecting him to explode on you.

"I'm sorry, Riddle. It won't happen again." You looked down at your fiddling hands with due embarrassment. Riddle seemed pleased enough with your apology and began to continue with the ceremony. That is, until he was interrupted.

"That's no fair!"

You rolled your eyes upon hearing the very familiar, very annoying voice belonging to a particular boy that had made your life hell the week prior.

"Ace Trappola! It is unacceptable to interrupt me during the proceedings of a proper unbirthday party!" Riddle slammed his hands on the table in response to the outburst, making the whole table shake.

Ace just huffed and crossed his arms, seemingly unbothered by Riddle's tantrum.

"But Y/N is late to an unbirthday tea party! How many times have I been chewed out for the exact same thing when all Y/N gets is a slap on the wrist?" Ace argued, gesturing to you accusatory. You scoffed and looked away from him, though you were paying close attention to his figure in your peripheral.

"Y/N is not a member of Heartslabyul and thus does not deserve as harsh a punishment as someone who is expected to know all the rules," Riddle defended, making Ace scrunch his nose up in a way that you would have thought was cute if it were anyone but him.

"No one here knows all the rules except you!" Ace exclaimed, very worked up about the injustice of your arrival. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms at him.

"Just hush up, Trappola. I wasn't even late and you're the one holding up the party," you sneered at him, earning one right back.

"I'm just pointing out a clear bias that I think is unfair to the rest of us." Ace held up his hands in surrender, attempting to play the victim though you had already condemned him. You huffed and stuck your tongue out childishly at him. He stuck his tongue out back before the two of you were interrupted by another slam on the table.

Riddle was practically fuming when you finally pulled away from your hateful eye contact with Ace. The dorm leader's face was as red as his hair and, though Trey was frantically trying to calm him down, he seemed about ready to explode.

"You brats are ruining my unbirthday party!" Riddle finally snapped and yelled as loud as was humanly possible. You could almost feel the force of the scream. "Ace, as a member of Heartslabyul, I expect you to act with poise and dignity, especially when we have guests."

Ace's confidence visibly sagged. You smiled at him smugly before Riddle snapped you to attention.

"And Y/N! Don't think you're off the hook just because I invited you. I expected you to act like a proper guest at a proper tea party but here you are, showing up late and flaunting around like some kind of hooligan! Well, I've had enough I say!"

"Riddle, please," Trey pleaded to no avail.

"I have had enough! Get out! You both are exiled to the rose maze until you learn how to behave like civilized students."

"But Riddle..." You tried to reason with him but he silenced you with a raise of his hand.

"I will hear none of it. Out now or it's off with your head."

You ashamedly scooted your chair out and trudged to the entrance to the rose maze. You gazed wistfully at a sugar-coated chouquette you had been hoping to sample but with a stern look from Riddle, the tea party soon disappeared into green bushes as you walked out of sight.

Ace followed close behind you. As soon as you were out of sight, you elbowed him in the side. He clutched his "injury" and stared at you incredulously.

"What was that for?"

"This is all your fault," you pointed at him with a very accusatory finger. He held his hands up in surrender, apparently stunned by your accusation.

"How is this my fault? You showed up late and then started arguing with me!"

"But you were the one who started the arguing!"

"But you kept arguing!"

You groaned so loud you were sure you could be heard by the rest of the dorm. You buried your face in your hands and pulled your face down in exasperation.

When you moved your hands and took notice of your surroundings, you realized where you were.

You were at the center of the rose maze, with a marble fountain standing in the middle. You were almost swept away by the tranquility of the setting compared to the company you kept.

The quiet burbling of the fountain made perfect white noise in the clearing of rose bushes, each one perfectly painted crimson red for the party. Birds chirped merrily from their perches atop the thorny bushed.

It was so peaceful, you almost forgot Ace was there. When you finally remembered, you exhaled sharply, destroying the atmosphere.

"You are the worst, you know that?" you huffed at Ace, taking a step toward him. He groaned and rolled his eyes. Once your arguments got started, they didn't stop for a long time.

"Pray tell, O Judgemental One," Ace bowed mockingly, keeping your gaze as his head dipped. "Why am I the worst?"

"You...!" Your entire reasoning fled your mind when you noticed how his shirt lowered as he bowed, exposing his chest. You looked away as soon as you noticed and turned to hide your blushing face. "This is why! You keep messing with my head!"

"I'm messing with..! I'm not even doing anything!"

"Yes, you are!" you insisted, earning another groan from Ace. You crossed your arms, insistent in your conclusion. "You do that weird flirty thing to make fun of me all the time! And don't think I didn't notice just now how you tried to make me look down your shirt!"

Ace straightened at your words and clutched his shirt to his chest.

"You were looking down my shirt, Y/N?"

"No!" You nearly shrieked, praying he mistook the embarrassment on your face for anger. "Not internationally. Only because you were doing it on purpose!"

"I wasn't doing anything on purpose." He ran a hand through his hair and looked at you with a stupid smirk. "You sure you weren't just trying to get a peek of me under my clothes?"

"You see this is what I'm talking about!" You started walking around the fountain to relieve the heat in your face, though Ace followed, much to your chagrin. "You're doing a weird flirty thing and I hate it!"

"Sounds like you're just flustered, Y/N."

You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around, meeting Ace face-to-face. He had stopped a little after you so you were much closer than before. Your noses were almost touching as you leaned in to slap his shoulder.

"I loathe you."

He slapped your shoulder back, earning an offended gasp.

"I loathe you."

"I loathed you first!" you insisted, your eyes absentmindedly flicking to his lips as your faces were brought closer by your arguing. You noticed all too much when Ace licked his lips, parting them slightly.

Before you knew what was happening, your lips were connected. Your eyes widened in shock as Ace wrapped his arms around your waist but you soon relaxed, bringing your hands to his neck and pulling him closer. Your mind was screaming at you to stop but for some reason you just couldn't.

With one particularly loud mental protest, your eyes flung open and you shoved away. Ace's eyes fluttered open with confusion as you pulled away.

"What is wrong with you?" you yelled, wiping your mouth and praying that the heat on your face wasn't showing too much. "You can't just go around kissing people!"

You took a lap around the fountain and Ace chased after you.

"What do you mean? You kissed me?"

"Oh, you think you're so charming!" you groaned. "Well, let me tell you something...!"

"What, that you hate me?" Ace raised an eyebrow. "That's not a surprise anymore, Y/N. Or are you gonna tell me you've secretly been in love with me this whole time?"

You took a deep breath, your hands shaking with... Something. Probably rage. Hopefully.

"What, you wanna kiss again and find out?"

You stopped in your tracks, cursing your traitorous brain for actually thinking about it.

"No, I don't. I want pastries and I want to go back to my dorm and cuddle with my cat!" you yelled as you made your way toward one of the exits to the maze.

"Do you know where you're going?"

"No, I do not!" you called back. You were about to reenter the maze when you were jerked back by a hand on your wrist.

"You're gonna get lost!" Ace argued, not even noticing how his other hand absentmindedly landed on your hip.

"I don't care, get your hands off me!" you tried to push him away but Ace's grip was firm and your tugging just set both of you off balance.

You toppled over into the fountain with a shriek, taking Ace with you.

You pulled your head above water and gasped for air. Before Ace had even surfaced, you were splashing him with water.

"When I get my hands on you, Ace, I'm gonna-"

You were interrupted by the click of a camera shutter.

Cater was standing in the closest entrance to the maze, cellphone in hand and apparently taking many great angles of your slip up.

"This is unexpected," he said with a sly grin on his face. "Ace and the prefect. Gotta say though, I've been shipping you two for months."

"You're not gonna post those, are you?" Ace glared at Cater, his eyes wide with genuine fear. "Cater?"

Cater smirked deviously, reminding you both just how much of a schemer he was.

"That depends on how fast you can run."

The two of you jumped out of the fountain and took off after Cater who had bolted away with his blackmail photos, giggling all the way back to the garden.

[thenovelartist]

And there was only One Bed - Tears of Themis Headcanons

Premise: There’s only one room left in the hotel, meaning the guys have to be roomies with MC for a night.

Luke

Err… his cheeks are red now.

He’s having to check with MC if she’s okay with it. Not that they had much of a choice.

They take the room, only to discover one bed.

And forget his crush on her; that’s the least of his problems.

He knows she shifts in her sleep.

“You take half and I take half?” MC offers. “Like when we were kids?”

He sighs, lamenting his fate. “I’m so gonna end up on the floor.”

“Sorry.”

When it comes to who showers first: rock, paper, scissors.

He’s the least phased of all the guys by the whole “share one bathroom” situation. They grew up together. They sometimes used to have quick conversations through the bathroom door, normally just a question or two about what they wanted for dinner or if their phone went off and it was their parents.

Which happened this time. “There was a vending machine down stairs. You want anything? And if you mention that diet, I’m getting you two of your favorite candy bars.”

“Just one and only one.”

“You got it.”

(@gavin-plz-call-me once called them the “King and Queen of No Boundaries” and I will never forget it.)

Eventually, Luke makes sure MC’s settled in for bed while he’s planning to stay up a little and figure out tomorrow’s game plan.

Until she literally drags him to bed.

He can’t protest against her.

Contrary to what he thought, he did not end up on the floor.

But it was kinda hard to sleep when the girl of his dreams decided his chest was her new snuggle pillow halfway through the night.

He’ll cave and roll with it. Be selfish just for tonight and hold her there.

Come morning, she apologizes for disrupting him, he dismisses it. And both their cheeks are red.

But it doesn’t phase them. Give it half an hour, they’re back to normal.

(Bonus: “So, kid. Let me get this straight,” Aaron Yishmir started. “You spent the night with her, and you’re still not gonna tell her anything?”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“You’re hopeless.)

Vyn

Well… this is a predicament.

However, they come to some awkward agreement that if it’s the only place to sleep for the night, they’ll take it and figure it out as they go.

However, things only go from bad to worse when they learn there’s only one bed.

There were very few times since becoming an adult that Vyn ever found himself at a loss. And this was one of those times.

“Um… are you comfortable splitting?”

His glasses almost fell off his face at MCs suggestion.

Before he can even think about suggesting to take the chair, MC is putting up a blanket wall. “Like this?”

Er… aha…

Oh geez, this woman…

He caves to that deep, ugly part of him that’s begging “yes” and agrees.

Then comes the new revelation there’s only one bathroom, which rose the question of who was going to shower when.

He just lets her take the first shower while his mind is still storming.

During that time, he realizes this may be the only time he has the privacy to actually record his voice diary.

It’s a total disaster. He’s in mental turmoil and can barely think straight.

But MC is acting normal, meaning he’s got to try to act normal.

Normally, he takes his showers in the morning, but he takes it at night this time just so he can have another moment of privacy to get his thoughts in order.

This is just a practical arrangement. This is just a practical arrangement. This is just a practical arrangement…

Bedtime rolls around, and poor, unsuspecting Vyn believes they are each going to stay on their respective sides of the bed.

However, Author has a headcanon these two both sleep like dead logs.

Morning rolls around, and they’re still both asleep, only they’re totally entangled.

MC wakes up first, laying on top of Vyn.

And when she freaks, flailing and falling off the bed in the process, that’s when Vyn wakes, too.

It was… an interesting morning to say the least.

They come to the agreement to never speak on it again.

(Until a few years down the line after they’re together and can look back on that day with amusement.)

Artem

When the person at the front desk said there was only one room left, Artem about had a heart attack.

He cannot possibly share a room with MC. That’s super improper.

Will call around to any other hotel in the area, but no avail.

MC will literally have to drag this poor man up to the room.

“It will be fine, Artem.”

Except, it wasn’t. There was one bed.

Cue almost heart attack number 2.

He almost left to go sleep in the car. MC had to restrain him.

“We can share right? Like, if we—”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Not even if we put a blanket—”

“No. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

There was no convincing him to sleep anywhere else.

And MC tried.

Eventually, she had to surrender. “Fine. Then do you want the first shower?”

Oh… there was only one bathroom… that they’d be sharing…

Cue almost heart attack number 3.

Will legitimately leave the room while she’s showering. He just feels too awkward and like he’s invading her privacy.

Then bed time rolls around and he’s unable to sleep, so he works on his laptop for the time being.

Ends up pulling an all-nighter, which MC anticipated.

She set an alarm for early in the morning so she could then force him to bed for a few hours.

While he insisted he was fine, he was too tired to protest as she pushed him down into bed. “Sleep, will you. I know you didn’t sleep all night.”

Thought he’d have trouble, but he was so wound up all night over everything that had happened that he’s passed out in fifteen minutes.

And stayed out cold for a few hours.

When they left, MC made sure to thank him for being such a gentleman. She thought it was the least she could do for his troubles.

That, and she quite liked the way his ears and neck turned red.

(Bonus: He hopes Celestine never finds out what happened on that business trip.

But when she finds out curtesy of MC, she will never let him live it down.)

Marius

The moment he finds out there’s only one room, he actually gets super flustered.

And as he does, instantly goes in to deflective Playboy Flirt mode.

“Get your head out of the gutter, you little—”

MC shut that down, real quick.

Most he could do then is just say “It can’t be that bad, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Well, apparently only be one bed.

Flustered Marius = Playboy Persona

“That’s it,” MC says. “You take the bed.”

“What? Don’t you wanna share?”

“No.”

“Ouch!”

But really, he wants to find some way to get her to take the bed because he really will feel awful otherwise.

Then comes the single bathroom realization.

“You wanna shower together?”

“Marius, I swear I will kick you out of this room and take the keycard from you.”

“Oh, my feisty Miss Attorney.”

“Miss Attorney will sue you for sexual harassment.”

“Understood.”

He gets to shower first, and then ends up giving her some excuse for leaving the room entirely.

He loves teasing her, but this might be the most he’s ever pushed his luck. And he actually doesn’t want her to hate him, so he’ll give her this space at least.

As for the bed situation…

MC tries to sleep on the couch, but he can’t stand it, so he decides to push his luck and simply carry her to bed.

“I won’t pull anything, I swear.”

“The only reason I’m agreeing is because I know I’ll sleep better here than the couch.”

“See?”

“Marius.”

“I’ll shut up.”

Regrets his decision halfway through the night when Mr. Light Sleeper realizes Ms. Dead Log moves in her sleep.

She was snuggled up against his back, and his heart was going doki doki too hard to even think about going back to sleep.

Eventually, he rolls over and snuggles her, not just because he wants to, but he hopes it will keep her still through the night.

Unfortunately, she was not happy in the morning.

“Can’t we talk about this?”

She kept her face turned away from him the rest of the day, but he knew it was red with blush. “Shut up.”

[snackhobi]

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif​ for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

--

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan. 

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve. 

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable. 

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is. 

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church. 

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside. 

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?” 

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement. 

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble. 

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom. 

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised. 

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

--

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt. 

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts. 

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. 

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless. 

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck. 

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in. 

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres. 

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body. 

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage. 

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe. 

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead. 

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming. 

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class. 

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end. 

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?” 

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading. 

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it. 

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing. 

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.” 

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good. 

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it. 

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm. 

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be. 

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling  in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent. 

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed. 

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside. 

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil. 

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed. 

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you. 

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you. 

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. 

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…” 

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

--

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

--

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[siyurikspakvariisis]

Sjur Eido, from inventing war to pursuing peace

Three theses:

Sjur Eido started the Theodicy War.

Contrary to popular belief, her hesitation to kill Mara Sov doesn’t come from Mara’s “thoughtless grace and beauty”

She had learned Eliksni language and customs in an attempt for a diplomatic end to the Reef Wars and, potentially, partially redeem her past sins. Unfortunately, she was killed too early.

The first thesis is the one in which the third hinges upon. The evidence is circumstantial, but there is quite a bit.

I. The second crime ever committed

In Fideicide II we have this passage:

One of the 891 fell today, shot down by a matter laser, a coherent boson weapon: There was almost nothing left to burn. Matter lasers are the kind of appalling maltech weapon Alis thought she'd locked up in the Shipspire's vaults. She'd armed a few of her Paladins with them, just a few—women she couldn't bear to lose…

The thought that one might have defected to the Diasyrm breaks her heart.

And in Imponent III:

Historians were called to the court with bouquets of sweet flowers and grant money to speak of Sjur Eido. "She was one of Queen Alis Li's Paladins, but she was an Eccaleist, who believed that we would one day be called to repay the gift of our awakening."

There we have our defecting Paladin - and this was common knowledge after the war, that Sjur Eido was an Eccaleist and that she had been a Paladin. Nowhere it is said that this was the first shot fired in the War, though, but put a pin in that.

Flash-forward to Tyrannocide III, when the Awoken were already in the Reef, and Mara is starting to plant the seeds for her katabasis. Before she walks to her death, she confesses her worst secret to Sjur, both immersed in vacuum, isolated from everything else in a spacewalk.

"Sjur, I have this secret, this thing I did, and I don't know if anyone can know it without hating me forever."

"I had a secret too," Sjur reminds her. "The thing I did…"

"It's nothing compared to mine. Nothing at all."

As mentioned before, it was a known fact that Sjur was a Paladin, a deserter, and an Eccaleist. So what could her secret be, if not that she had been the first killer?

(Which is pretty fitting, given the parallels between the Osmium Court and the Awoken Royal Family. Oryx and Uldren, navigators. Mara and Savathûn, mistresses of lies. Sjur and Xivu Arath, incarnations of war)

II. Does blood wash blood?

The Theodicy War ends with the disappearance of the Diasyrm. This is the motivation for Sjur to declare her intention to murder Mara Sov:

Now in the court of one of the Scribes, there appeared a woman of stellar height and furious wrath, armed with a bow that could be strung only if she twined it around her body and used her whole mass to bend it. "I am Sjur Eido," said the woman, "and I accuse Mara of the ancient murder of my lady the Diasyrm. In my saddle, I have a weapon with only one death remaining. Take me to Mara, and I will deliver it."

The Scribes consulted and said to each other that this foul murder might prevent another Theodicy War. So they gave Sjur Eido all their knowledge to hunt Mara.

And here comes, in Imponent II, the infamous paragraph:

Sjur Eido deduced who among the Queen's court must be a disguised Mara Sov. She followed the hooded figure to her laboratory and watched Mara go to work soldering a makeshift bolometer to search for signs of primordial gravity waves. Sjur Eido's fury and grief whetted themselves against Mara's thoughtless grace and ancient beauty, until at last her heart unseamed itself and spilled its hot blood in a shout. "Mara Sov!" she cried, throwing down her maltech matter laser between them. "I cannot live while you live, but I cannot bear to kill you. I challenge you to a duel to the agony. I will fight your most beloved companion to the death and leave you forever maimed or else die in the attempt."

This can be easily read as “Sjur was too mission-abandonly gay to proceed with her vendetta”, but I think this is a superficial reading. Keep in mind the author of the Marasenna is Mara herself, and she warns you that

[a]ll things told, all truth revealed, if through mist and mystery. If you have grace, then see our sorrows, but swallow back your tears. We were made to pay this price. I led us to our fate.

Seek me in my place. Hear these whispers from the lips of Queen-Egged God.

This has passed through the filter of Mara Sov’s authorship. And later on Sjur Eido would become her lover, confidant, and closest thing to an equal she has had during her reign. Sjur’s internal turmoil, I think, is the kind of thing she would filter out of a history of the Distributary Awoken.

What kind of internal turmoil? The one that comes with having so much blood on her hands - the blood of immortals, no less, of immesurable value. Alis Li (well, Mara Sov, actually, but she does not know that yet) might be the biggest criminal by Eccaleist standards for having created the possibility of suffering and death, but Sjur has brought that potential into the material. She is a murderer (the first murderer) and she has had time to mull that over.

Maybe she could not kill a defenseless person in cold blood.

Maybe she wanted someone who could fight back and kill her all along. There is no evidence for that, this is true, but this would give Mara all the more reason to draw a veil over her lover’s motivations - Sjur’s mental health struggles were hers and hers alone.

3. Restitution and atonement

So we now have asserted Sjur as the first murderer in Awoken history, and as someone who regrets these actions. This contrasts with the end of her arc, when she has learned Eliksni customs and language to, presumably, understand them for a potential peace between their peoples.

In Misraaks, we read about her capture of a surly young Vandal who tries to kill himself by dashing off a cliff, and to take Sjur with him, before being a prisoner of war.

Drawing two fractal knives from sheaths on her thighs, she makes a perfect ireliis bow before him. Thunderstruck, he sits up straight. Stares.

"Not good?" she asks, and tries again.

Furious confusion takes him. This is some kind of trick. Blasphemous mockery. "Iirsoveks," he rumbles.

She shakes her head. "Nama." Sheathing one of her knives, she holds out her free hand with her fingers spread in supplication.

He draws his chin toward his throat with this fresh betrayal, narrowing his secondary eyes. It speaks!

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she lays her other knife on the ground between them. The blade points toward her boots. He watches her every movement. How many secrets have the flesh-lovers betrayed, that this creature can make peace like a cringing drekh before his kel?

She taps two fingers against her cuirass. "Sjur," she says slowly, then she points at him.

Honor-bound even as he simmers in scandal, he replies, "Misraaks. Velask, Si-yu-riks."

"Mithrax," she repeats, then grins. "Velask, Mithrax. And welcome! Let's have a look about, shall we?"

She is trying so hard to meet Misraaks in his terms, despite the power imbalance!  This is, of the three theses, the flimsiest one, but I think it is a very satisfying end for her arc. She is not redeemed, if she could ever be, for starting the Theodicy War - but she tries. And in trying, she has made an indelible impact upon a young Vandal who would become the Kell of House Light.

[huihuiheart]

Flufftober D1: Home - Seventeen

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Flufftober 2021 Masterlist

Seventeen Masterlist

Pairing: Platonic Seventeen + Gender Neutral Model! Reader

Genre: Angst + Fluff

Summary: No one is strong enough to do everything on their own. Luckily for you, you don’t have to. Not when you have an amazing safe place and just as amazing people in your life.

Warnings: Mention of beauty standards, negative body image, breaking point, mental/emotional break down, crying.

Word Count: 780

“Y/N, you’re here! I wasn’t sure you would make it with your shoot and all going on today.” Vernon calls happily from the couch, making you the center of attention as you entered the dorm. They had invited you over tonight, and while you had a busy schedule, you couldn’t find it in your heart to flat out decline the invitation, though everyone knew you were supposed to be busy with a shoot the whole day.

“A-Ah....yeah, well, I was replaced last minute. So I’m free now.” You try to force a smile towards them, not wanting them to worry about you despite the turmoil you’d been through over the course of the day.

“What do you mean? Why would they replace you?” Jeonghan stands from the couch, brows furrowed in concern. He’d always been too good at picking up people’s emotions, with the way he cared. Even the slightest change in typical behavior and he could pick your emotions out.

You huffed and tossed a magazine onto their coffee table, displaying the cover, “Because I don’t look like that apparently. I wasn’t what they pictured for this shoot. They also kindly suggested I try dieting and exercise.”

Seungcheol sighs and sits you down on the couch between a few of the other boys, “You know there’s nothing wrong with you, right? No matter what anyone else says?” 

“Well, it’s kind of hard to believe that when literally everyone says otherwise...m-maybe I really wasn’t cut out for this...”You look down at your hands in your lap, eyes starting to burn as the feeling of defeat becomes overwhelming, starting to bubble over, “M-Maybe, I should go on a diet.”

Jun scoffs, popping out of the kitchen, “Like hell, you will! Y/N, natural you looks amazing! That’s what makes you so special in comparison to so many models too. That you break the standards and make your own. Besides, it’s time more models showed up who look healthy for a change.”

Joshua, shaking his head and laughing slightly at how adamant Jun is, you laugh too, only yours is without humor, “Y-You should see the comments on my social media they make me feel otherwise.”

“Yeah, and you should see mine? Let's compare how ridiculous they are, hm?” Minghao tries to get you to smile again, and you do give a small one.

“I-I don’t know how you guys do it, honestly. I don’t know if I can take it any longer, all the standards they have for me...a-all of the hate.” Your voice cracks as you start to lose it completely, hot, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, “It becomes too much...i-it seems too true.” 

Dokyeom moves quickly to pull you into a hug, trying to bring you some comfort as Wonwoo moves to silently get you a glass of tea to maybe calm you down some. Jihoon, kneeling before you and trying to get you to look at him.

“Hey, look at me Y/N. It doesn’t matter what you do with your life, there will always be unrealistic standards around and people who want to see you crash and burn. It’s up to you to prove them wrong, though.” Jihoon tells you truthfully, not sugarcoating the facts of life, but trying to comfort and encourage you nonetheless.

Soonyoung, moving to join him, “Besides, you’re doing so much good right now. You’re breaking standards and showing other people that being themselves is beautiful too. That’s why so many people love you. So try to focus on the positive and not the negative okay?” 

"And if they keep it up, just let me at them they’ll learn real fast not to mess with you!” Seungkwan winks at you playfully, as you give a small teary chuckle. Accepting the tea that Wonwoo had brought to you.

“For now, why don’t we just do something else, though? That way, you can get your mind off of it, hm?” Mingyu suggested already getting up to go set something up on the TV, “What are you feeling a movie or video games?”

“Video games, probably.” You answer as Chan rushes off to go get more blankets for everyone tossing one to Dokyeom, who wraps it around you, while Joshua brings you a plate of food from the kitchen. The boys immediately surrounding you in a feeling of comfort.

“Thank you guys, for everything. I can always be myself around you. I don’t have to be picture-perfect, or just whatever emotions they want for the camera around you. I am enough here...and comfortable...like I have a family and a home.” Your words make Seungcheol chuckle as he comes over to join you.

“That’s because you do Y/N.”

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 19)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 3,000

Chapter Warning: Smut.

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Full Masterpage |

You were woken up to the violent sound of vomiting.

Opening your eyes, you noticed the bedroom was still pitch black, so it must’ve been very late. Drowsily, you sat halfway up and looked over to see that Bucky wasn’t next to you.

You cringed as the soft glow from the A.I hit your irises.

The vomiting started again, followed by retching. Always being an emetophobic, you tried to ignore it, swallowing down thickly. You didn’t want it to affect you.

You stayed that way, sitting up and waiting for him to come back inside so you could ask him if he was okay.

After some time, You laid back down, and stared up at the ceiling. You grew concerned as long seconds turned to minutes.

He was taking too long for your liking.

Having made up your mind, you tossed the comforter aside and made your way to the end of the bed.

You hesitated for a moment before standing up. Your eyes quickly darted over to a pillow that was in the foyer, wondering how the hell it got there. Quietly, you made your way down the hallway until you saw the bathroom door ajar. The lights were on.

You stopped next to it before looking inside.

“Bucky?” You called out. Your voice was timid and soft.

No answer.

You began to hear crying.

Your heart tore in half at the sound. It was loud, but it was heavy. You could tell that he was trying to contain it as much as he could.

You grew even more concern, this time knocking softly on the door before pushing it open.

There he was, half hunched over the toilet, his other half falling towards the floor turned away from you. His metal hand gripped the side of the toilet while his right hand pulled at his hair.

You watched as he shook, sobs racking his body.

You didn’t want to seem annoying but you found yourself feeling scared.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t say anything.

Blindly, he reached for the lid and closed the toilet. Then he crawled over to the wall directly in front of him, right next to the shower, and fell up against it.

He grabbed at his hair with both hands. You watched as his knuckles turned white.

He let out a groan as he started to shaking his head back and forth, sniffing hard. He ran his hands down his face before letting them fall at his sides.

The look on his face was heartbreaking.

He looked like he was suffering some kind of pain that you couldn’t physically see. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, tilting his head up towards the ceiling.

You know that it wasn’t something he ate. That’s not why he was sick. He was going through something emotionally.  This was mental turmoil.

You didn’t realize how true your words rang about him needing to get help until now.

“Nightmare,” he says so quietly and out of breath that you wouldn’t have caught them if you weren’t staring at his lips, “nightmare.” He repeats again, almost defeated.

He looked disappointed in himself.

Bucky isn’t sure if he dozed off but when he opens his eyes again, you’re knelt down in front of him with a glass of water.

He looks at the glass and back up at you. You looks so scared.

He takes the glass and downs it in a few seconds, scorched.

He hands you back the glass.

“Thank you.” His voice is hoarse.

You put the glass on the floor and he watches your movements, still in a heavy daze.

When his eyes meet yours again he can see the worry in your eyes.

“You’re sweating so much.”  You grab a towel from one of the cabinets and hand it to him. He takes it from you but just holds onto it, letting his eyes close again, “You don’t have to tell me what it was about, but I’m glad you’re awake. You’re here now.” You say.

He physically cringes at the end of your sentence and you notice.

You take the towel from him, seeing he wasn’t even using it, and your roll it up. You bring it gently to his forehead to wipe away his perspiration. He shivers at your touch. He watches you intently. You look so innocent and sweet on your knees like that, and the memory of how he’s treated you in bed eats away at him. Not only was it a distraction, but you weren’t a piece of meat. He doesn’t understand how you still care after all he’s done to you.

You continue to wipe down the sides of his face, and eventually, underneath his eyes where the tears have now dried.

You were beautiful.

“It was a memory.” He says as you finally pull away from him.

You do a double take. You didn’t expect him to tell you this.

“I was,” he looks away from you, “it was nineteen fourth five. I was in Germany.”

He looks at you hesitantly and you give him a short nod, raising the towel back to his forehead. “Hydra—Hydra had me go to a base, just outside of Buchenwald. эти проклятые ублюдки.” He mumbles is disgust, sniffing, “There was a concentration camp nearby,” you watched as his flesh hand shook violently at his side, “It wasn’t instructed for me to be there. But we took the drive by, and I —“ his voice broke and he closed his eyes again, “I remember the smell, the smell of death, and I remember the bodies. I

remember children watching, this one young boy, and I did nothing.”

He was surprised when you took his metal hand in his.

“Bucky…”

“I don’t understand how I couldn’t control myself, my body, how I could let it happen, how I couldn’t save him. It was like deep down somewhere I knew it was wrong what I saw but I couldn’t —”

“You need to stop blaming yourself for something that is not your fault.”

“I was a Nazi.” He spats like the words are venom.

“You were not a Nazi. They took advantage of you and you know that. Even if you did what you did, you weren’t aware of it. Those monsters did that. Not you.” Your grip on his hand was tight and he could feel it, “you were a  young boy that they —“”

“I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve fought against them harder.”

“It was against your control.” He’s stunned at your conviction and he watches you curiously. You tilt your head at him, “But look at you now. Look where we are. You’re here to save the world. Everyone outside of The Capitol is counting on you, wether they know it or not. And that is something that it is you that is doing. This is who you are.”

Bucky closes his eyes together and another grimace fills his features. You feared he would start crying again.

“Have you—have you ever spoken to someone before?” You ask gently, “Bucky?” You repeat when he doesn’t answer.

“I did. I had a therapist, but it didn’t go well. I eventually just started to going to Sam,” you nod. You feel him grab your flesh hand, and he runs his thumb over the top of it. The act startles you, “but you don’t understand. I’m not just a veteran with PTSD. I’m different.”

His touch was hot against you.

“And I get that,” your voice shook slightly, “but you can’t stop trying.”

He tilts your head at you this time.

“Trying for what? I’ve tried what I can and I still feel empty. It’s not that I’m unhappy, I’m just, I don’t know.”

“You have suicidal thoughts.”

The silence that follows your comment is palpable.

“My time has come and gone,” his voice is filled with emotion and you feel your own eyes fill with tears, “I am glad I am doing this. I’m glad I’m here on this mission. But after this?” His eyes are filled with tears and you can tell he’s clawing at anything at this point, “give me something to live for.”

You slowly let go of his hand to wipe under your own eye. His words hurt you deeply. He was in so much pain you could feel it yourself.

Maybe you were an empath or maybe it just hit too close to home for you.

“I was bullied my entire life,” you started slowly, watching as his eyebrows came together, listening intently to you, “People made fun of me because I was always different. I didn’t hang with the cool crowd or the regular crowd. People always assumed things about me because of my parents. They always thought that just because mom and dad thought a certain way or had money, that I was taking advantage of them or I also thought like them. Nobody in my life ever took the time to get to know me just for me, and I was a girl that always cared about everyone, regardless of that.” His hand tightened around yours, “It didn’t matter when they dropped Mac and cheese down the front of my favorite sweater or when they would make me drop my books in the hallway and then laugh, because I knew they would grow up one day, and I knew the things that thought about me wasn’t true anyway,” Bucky’s heart began to fall as tears filled your eyes and your voice began to waver, “but I was still human.” Your voice broke. You cry quietly. You run the back of your hand under your nose,  looking away from him, “so of course I still got sad. I got depressed. I used to eat lunch by myself in a dark classroom everyday. How could something like that not affect a person? At one point I also thought to myself, is this how I’ll be forever? Alone? Hated for no reason? Will no one care? Why am I here?”

The amount of guilt that consumed Bucky was intense.

A month ago he had selfishly vowed to not get to know you because he was afraid of getting too attached to his mission partner. Now he’s cursing himself for unbeknownst doing something that was your ultimate weakness and your greatest pain. Because of it, he had underestimated everything about you. You were already beautiful to him, but knowing your heart was just as pretty made him feel other things for you. Things he hadn’t felt in close to a century. It terrifies him.

The last time he felt this way about another woman, because of him, she was killed. He couldn’t handle that again, the risk or the pain.

“I’m sorry .”

“But I still stayed strong, because someone did end up giving me a chance.” His eyes meets yours, “Will.” You breathe his name, “And he got taken from me. You know what that taught me? That it might seem bad right now and like the future is impossible, but life is full of great surprises, too.”

Bucky watches as you grab the cup, getting off the floor. His heart is still swelling.

“About what I said yesterday,” you stop at the sound of his voice, “I was out of line to blame you for what happened between us. It was my idea, and I took it out on you because I was scared we ruined the mission. I wasn’t in the best mood. I take blame.”

You look down at the floor, somehow still feeling hollow inside.

“Thank you.”

“I—” he cuts himself short and clears his throat. You turn around to look at him. He wasn’t on the floor anymore. He was standing and he looked a bit shy, “Look, what I said before about us not doing anything ever again…” his voice runs off as he swallows down and looks down shamefully at your feet.

He felt disgusting. He felt insanely attracted to you and you didn’t even know it. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep using you, he wished he could give a part of his heart to you and if this was a different life, maybe you two could work out.

He feels disgusted with himself. You deserved so much better than him.

“You know what, it’s okay. Forget I was going to say anything.” He whispers, clearing his throat after. You watched as he walked over to the cabinet to grab a larger towel.

You don’t how what it was. Maybe you’re growing up. Maybe you’re changing, but you walk over to him and grab his arm.

He looks over at you surprised.

“It’d be different this time.” You say, eyes darting over his nose, lips, and neck, “before there was hostility and pent up energy. We’re friends now, right?” You searched his eyes.

He squints at you.

“I guess we are.”

You nod.

“Friends with benefits?”

“Friends who occasionally just have sex?” He asks.

“We’ll make rules. No physical gestures that can have a double meaning, no intense eye contact, just something to get our edge off.”

“No kissing, anywhere.” He says, “And only at night. During the day, we act like it doesn’t even happen. We can’t allow distractions.” “And when the mission is over—”

“We go our separate ways.” He finishes.

You continue to stare at each other for a few more seconds before you give him a nod. He watches you as you walk away.

He’d always watch you as you walked away.

+ + +

“This show is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. You like this?” Bucky asked with a mouth half full of sushi, pointing his chopsticks at the screen, comically.

You smirked as you took a sip of your water.

“This show is a classic. You just don’t get it because you’re old.”

“I’m not that old.”

You snickered.

“You old old man.”

“Shut up.” He says, “it’s not even from this century, right? What year did you say this came out?”

“Nineteen ninety four.” You grumbled, looking for another California roll in your plastic tray, “It the epitome of nineties and early two thousands era. It takes everyone back to a good time, before everyone used to just text each other.” You shrug, “it makes me happy.” You look over at him to see his eyes glued to the screen and a smile playing on his lips despite his verbal hate towards the show, “you don’t even have one character you like?”

He shrugs.

“Chandelier is funny.”

“Chandelier?” You laugh out loud, placing your tray on the coffee table as you do so. Bucky watches you, captivated by your laughter, “you mean Chandler?”

“Sure.”

You continue to glare at him, giving him a small smirk.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“I won’t tell you.” He says shoving another sushi in his mouth.

You continued to stare at him, intrigued. Was this the real Bucky Barnes finally showing his true colors?

Ever since your talk in the bathroom last week, things between the both of you got better. Despite the blow out fight you had in the kitchen the other day, you really were friends. Friends in the most messed up sense of the word.

After your talk, you both had agreed to becoming friends with benefits, but you had yet to consummate the agreement.

The mission had kept you both very busy, between you trying to avoid Silas at work and keeping your eyes for any other possible intel, to Bucky staking out his nights at the tower trying to find new information on Ashen, including where he lived.  

Tonight was the first real night where you both felt relaxed for the first time in a very long time. Maybe too relaxed.

You heard Bucky snicker as a scene unfolded on TV -and you tried to contain your smile.

He liked it. Bucky liked Friends.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he leaned forward and put his own tray on the table.

“Does this remind you of your childhood?” He asks you.

“Kind of. I was very little when it ended but I remember that time period, yes. The world was different.”

“Tell me about it?” He asks you.

You perk a brow at him.

“Sure, but only after Ross accidentally says Rachel at the alter.”

“What?”

+ + +

“Could you stay on your side and with your fair share? You keep hogging up the blankets and the bed, Y/N.”

“I’m trying to make a cocoon because last time you snatched all the blankets in the middle of the night while I was asleep and I had to sleep shivering in fetal position.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Not.”

You both calmed down until you started moving your legs around, trying to find a comfortable position.

You stopped, and then started again, tossing and turning.

“Oh my god, if you don’t stop I’ll cut off your legs.”

“Do it I dare you.”

“God.”

“It’s not my fault it’s somehow freezing and super hot at the same time.”

Thankful, he thought you had finally found a comfortable spot because you stopped. He was wrong because you started moving.

Fed up with you, he quickly turned around and grabbed your leg.

“Stop.” You stretched down to push his hand off of you when he grabbed your hand and quickly held it up against the pillow next to your head. He did the same with your other and caged you under him with his legs.

You were breathless as you stared up at him. Finding the proximity intoxicating.

He was panting against you as he stared down at your face.

He watched enthralled as you whispered the undeniable words:

“Fuck me.”

+ + +

His boxers had been flung somewhere across the room and he had your legs right around his waist.

He followed your rules. No excessive gestures and no eye contact.

He hated it. He absolutely hated not being able to cup your face as he stared down at your nose, his cock thrusting into your at a languid pace. Slow and torturous.

Instead, his hand grabbed at the pillow beneath your head.

Bucky moaned as he felt you squeeze around him.

“God, you know just how to do it to me.” He mumbles, licking his lips.

“Faster.” You whine, tightening your legs around him.

His thrusts pick up speed as he continues to fuck you for several minutes. Eventually he switches to hold onto the head board.

His right hand leaves it to hold onto your waist and his eyes goes to where his dick is fucking you.

You were so perfect for him. If this were another lifetime, he knows he could be good for you. He knows this could’ve have had a different ending. You were so good.

When his orgasm hits him, he flicks your clit with his thumb and he unravels with you. You both cum together.

When he goes to bed later than night after slipping out of you and throwing away the condom, you don’t feel used like you used to. At least you don’t think you do.

But you still wished you didn’t love him anymore. You wished he felt the same, and you wished you had the strength to stop torturing yourself.

As you looked out into the city with your bare back facing his front, you reminded yourself that Bucky Barnes would never love you.  

This would always be just sex. And when it came to your friendship, it had no future. You were to both go separate ways at the end of this mission.

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe ,  @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 ,  @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie@lindatreb@theseuscmander @nervous-plant @wildmoonflower @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics @kaitlynisinfinite@justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing​

[trampohlena]

Okay, so after last night’s episode I would just like to say that Supercorp IS Endgame. I’d also like to point out the various reasons as to why Kara and Lena are not only soulmates but true twin flames.

For those reading this post who have never heard of the term twin flame: “A twin flame is your own soul, shared across what appears to be two physical beings. It’s one soul, split into two bodies.” -Google’s definition.

For those who are spiritually inclined and have a proclivity for indulging esoteric philosophies; Lena and Kara are ABSOLUTELY twin FUCKING flames 🔥🔥🔥!!

Here are the reasons why:

1. Their drastically different childhoods that resulted in remarkably similar trauma.

Both Kara and Lena have experienced great loss throughout their life. Both mourned the death of their parents, and life as they knew it, at a very early age. Both were shipped off to a foreign land, forced to leave behind everything they knew, in hopes for a brighter/safer future.

Albeit, Lena got the shorter end of the stick in regards to unconditional love, but both were given a second chance and a new start...and yet, they still never fit in, or felt like they truly belonged.

Although they individually have dealt with said trauma in different ways (Lena by pushing away those who try to get too close, and Kara by holding on tightly to those she holds dear) both of their actions are motivated by the same subconscious fear that they HAVE never and WILL never TRULY belong. All while yearning for a sense of “home”.

2. They are opposite reflections of each other; true “mirror souls”, if you will.

Physically, aesthetically, economically, and emotionally—they are complete “mirrors” of one another.

Kara is strong, physically powerful, cut from marble, all hard edges and sharp lines—except for her face. Lena is clearly not as physically powerful, she is soft, all curves, and exudes the grace of the Devine feminine energy—except for her face, which is hard edges and sharp jaw lines. You see what I’m saying?

Aesthetically and economically go hand in hand of course. Lena’s exorbitant wealth is evident in her high-end designer appearance; whereas Kara’s aesthetic is more humble and grounded, and prioritizes comfort over “fashion”. (Let’s admit it. Some of Kara’s fashion choices have been questionable. She clearly rocks the chinos and button-downs better than anything else in that eclectic closet of hers she refuses to come out of 😏)

Emotionally...oh honey. Do I need to say more? I won’t say much but I will say this: Kara is the sun and Lena is the moon. They compliment each other in a way that ensures the world keeps turning.

3. Their individual strengths are the other’s individual weakness and vice versa.

Goes along with the aforementioned “opposite reflection” point above but I’ll expand a bit further in regards to their specific personality traits.

Lena is predominately analytically driven, whereas Kara is emotionally driven. Lena is good in crowds, Kara is not (overwhelmed). Lena is introverted, Kara is extroverted. Lena is detail oriented and has the memory of an elephant, Kara is clumsy and as forgetful as a Pisces (but hey, she has a lot on her plate and barely any free time to balance it). Lena eats like a rabbit-bird-hybrid and Kara eats like a garbage disposal. Kara loves giving and receiving hugs and other forms of physical affection whereas Lena does not (UNLESS it’s from Kara, of course). Etc. Etc. you get the picture.

4. Now this one is the DEAD GIVEAWAY. Undeniable, irrefutable PROOF that Lena and Kara are twin flames.

They are LITERALLY completing what is know as the Twin Flame Journey or the Twin Flame Union.

The stages of Twin Flame Union are roughly as follows:

1. Yearning for “the one”. I think every human being that believes in love experiences this whether it’s throughout their entire life, or only their adult life until they meet this person but yeah. You get it. Kara has always wanted that “Wapow!” moment.

2. Glimpsing/meeting “the one”. Whether it’s only for a short moment, an extended meeting, or perhaps merely locking eyes with them as you pass each other by...you feel immediately connected. There is an instant soul recognition when meeting them, so much so that you could have sworn you’ve met them before or that it’s as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

Remember when Kara met Lena? And she was gaga-eyed over Lena? Or when Lena felt so comfortable around a new acquaintance that she granted an almost stranger unbridled access to her office? Or how about when Red Daughter flew to America (the country she was taught to hate), with no recollection/memories of Kara’s relationship with Lena (again, the woman she was taught to hate), all because she felt PULLED to do so. And then when she did meet Lena she looked at her and practically drooled over her as if Lena was a double XL cheeseburger with extra special sauce from Big Belly Burger? Like, biiiitch 👀

3. Falling in love. Need I say more? Fine, again, I will. You CANNOT tell me that there is no way in hell that these two morons are anything BUT in love with each other. That’s a lot of double negatives and I appplogize so let me reiterate for clarification: THEY ARE IN LOVE AND YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND!

And at this point is it so freaking BEYOND platonic love, the show cannot explain it away or sweep it under the “just close friends” rug. No. Kara used her Fifth Dimensional Wish (she literally could have wished her entire planet didn’t explode) and she said “make Lena not mad at me, I’m sad 😔” 👀. Mmmkay. Not to mention Lena picking Supergirl over Jack, her former lover. Or the plethora of other times Lena chose Kara/Supergirl over everyone else she knew. Mmkay.

4. The fairytale relationship/friendship. Lena has finally found someone she can depend on, be vulnerable with, support her without judgement, trust with her life etc. and Kara has finally found a true best friend, not her sister, not Kenny who she didn’t realize was her best friend till after he passed? And now he’s not dead?? But her one true best friend that she felt she didn’t need to be neither Supergirl, nor Kara Danvers, but rather Kara Zor-El around (despite Lena not knowing that little tidbit of information).

They were each other’s best friend. Each other’s person. They were happy.

5. Outer Turmoil and Inner Purging—Supergirl and Lena fight. Lena still does not know that Kara is indeed Supergirl and does not pick up on the brewing tension between herself and Kara.

Kara of course is riddled with guilt and her relationship with Lena becomes strained. This outer turmoil creates inner purging by bringing out negative traits in each other. I.E. Lena hiding kryptonite and also Kara asking James to spy on her. Shit gets messy but they still try to make it work.

6. The Runner and the Chaser/Separation Stage—Tensions mount between the two and Lena FINALLY learns about Kara’s secret. And she has a choice to make. So what does she do? She runs. Not physically but emotionally. She completely withdraws from not only Kara and their friends but also withdraws from herself.

She literally experiences cognitive dissonance and becomes someone she is not. Someone other people made her believe she was on the inside, even though Kara knows that it isn’t. And so, Kara chases her.

Lena becomes the runner and Kara becomes the chaser as they navigate this separation stage.

Continuously running and continuously chasing.

7. The Surrender and dissolution stage—they’re fucking done. They’re tired. They’re exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally after all the bullshit they put each other through as well as all the bullshit Lex and the Phantom Zone put them through.

They come to an impasse in regards to Lex and realize the only way to defeat him is to work together, as a team. (El Mayarah anyone?)

They surrender to their emotions and to each other as their egos dissolve and their souls expand after having learned invaluable life lessons. The major one being: THEY CANNOT LIVE HAPPILY WITHOUT EACH OTHER!

8. The last stage that we have yet to see but we fucking better or else I’m gonna January 6 the CW studio building—“Oneness”.

This time, I’m not gonna say more.

So, in conclusion: Supercorp is Endgame because Lena Luthor and Kara Zor-El Danvers are the literal definition of a twin flame, soulmate connection. They are the same soul, manifested in two physical forms, for the sole purpose of expanding their soul’s consciousness.

They deserve to be happy, they deserve to be together. Not only does their union parallel some of the greatest love stories throughout history, i.e. Romeo and Juliet, Darcy and Bennet, Superman and Lois (duh) it would also break the curse of generational karma and illustrate to anybody who watches the show that the only person who defines who you are is YOU. Not a name, not a legacy, not society’s expectations, YOU. And most importantly of ALL...it would showcase that love truly does conquer all.

I rest my case.

TPTB, make Supercorp Endgame or kick rocks ✌️😘

Sincerely,

An empassioned fan with way too much time on her hands.

[arirna]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime, books, movies or tv series)? Thanks....

Oh now that's a great ask! Thank you for giving me an opportunity to gush about my faves!

Disclaimer: the order in this list is irrelevant since i love these characters equally (although for different reasons). Also possible spoilers too, since sometimes i need to explain why i like these characters due to their true role in the narrative.

1. Tsukuyo (GIntama)

Gintama in general has a great cast of female characters (which was severely underutilised in later arcs to my great dismay) but Tsukuyo still remains my favorite among them. The story arcs which involved her are considered by me the best Gintama arcs by far.

What really resonated with me about Tsukuyo is the way she's allowed to be both strong and vulnerable by the narrative. She's a person who is greatly defined by her duty and loyalty to the people she protects and cares for but it doesn't mean that she doesn't have her own personal struggles and insecurities to work through and the story doesn't shy away from that. I'm always a sucker for quiet understated characters with inner turmoil.

And also she has a great character design as well which is always a plus for me.

2. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd (Fire Emblem Three Houses)

Three Houses as a game was quite ambitious in regards to the way it tried to structure its main plot and character arcs for its main cast. Having three (+ a not so secret 4th) routes which explore each main lord and their closest allies was an interesting idea but unfortunately the way it was implemented wasn't the best one. It was mostly due to the inconsistencies between character writing in different routes (Edelgard for me was the biggest victim of that) and the way some importaint reveals about the main plot and lore were hidden behind only one or two routes so you may completely miss the point of certain scenes or character motivations in other routes (although that was most likely made on purpose but i'm not sure it worked in the narrative's favor).

However, Dimitri and his route Azure Moon avoided most of these problems by making its main narrative focus mainly on DImitri's character arc and his relationships with Byleth, Dedue, Edelgard and his allies without focusing too much on the game's very vague and convoluted lore and the frankly underwhelming "true" main antagonists.

Thanks to that Dimitri managed to get one of the best character arcs in the game which fully explored his struggles with his mental illness and the pain and tragedy he had to endure. His redemption arc may have been slightly fumbled due to the limitations of this game's gameplay and structure but I still consider it a very good example of how redemptions arcs can be done.

The way he managed to pick himself up again after ending up in such a dark place mentally in his life and to persevere despite everything so he can become the person he always aspired to be was very uplifting to see. Also he’s a huge simp and a great malewife material - we love to see it!

3. Sessyoin Kiara (Fate franchise)

Kiara is the case of a person who was actually qualified to be a Messiah figure in her life going very very horribly right(???).

This lady was the head of the sex cult which promised salvation for humanity and she was very good at her job. Unfortunately for everyone involved Kiara only considered herself to be the one true human being (she’s just like me fr) while everyone else she viewed to be mindless apes who are only useful to her as her personal playthings and it’s their true salvation in her eyes. After certain shenanigans involving digital space battle royale on the Moon she managed to become an actual Demonic Bodhisattva who almost drowned the whole world in pleasure for her own ascension into godhood.

So she was the Girlboss(tm) basically and while she was defeated in the end since people hate to see a girlboss winning, thanks to a certain gacha spinoff game she made a glorious comeback and now she’s busy scheming and helping the protagonists along the way for her own amusement.

Unlike the previous characters i just like Kiara because she’s nuts and evil and she owns it 100%. While it’s obvious that she toys with the idea that she might change her stance on the whole “i’m the only Human Being in this world”, she still remains true to herself and it’s fun to see a villainous character like her.

4. Queen Marika the Eternal (Elden Ring)

Another Girlboss(tm) character who is for the most part relegated to be a background figure for the lore and yet her actions and her agenda shape the world and the narrative of the whole game.

Marika was chosen as the reigning sovereign Goddess of the world called the Lands Between and she proceeded to rule it by getting rid of Death as the concept in her world, war mongering her rule across all lands, starting multiple relationship dramas involving her exes, her new husband (but not really) and her multiple demigod kids, maybe or maybe not helping one of her kids with their planned heist of the rune which brings back Death, shattering the World Order, getting imprisoned and secretly guiding you, the player, while pretending to serve the true Big Boss of this world.

Did she utilize her Girlpower correctly while doing all of these things? I’m not sure but hell, she sure was committed to it all. I hope future DLCs will allow us to learn more about her as a person but even now i can safely say that she’s a fascinating character and i can see GRRM’s handprints all over her since he’s a huge fun of morally dubious but ambitious characters like Marika.

5. Taichi Mashima (Chihayafuru)

In the cast full of idealistic people fully dedicated to their favorite card game Taichi instantly took over the narrative for the most part of the story by being an extremely flawed and human character full of jealousy, self-loathing and insecurity, but also compassion, understanding and loyalty.

He is the second lead in the romantic drama who is (tragically) destined to lose to the perfect (debatable on my end tho) main male lead and yet you root for this guy anyway since he’s so compelling as a character (he’s also hot AND rich and he is voiced by Mamoru Miyano so he has that going for him, i guess).

6. Makima (Chainsaw Man)

No way! Another very morally dubious Girlboss(tm) character on this list! Groundbreaking!

Makima is the benevolent (???) head of the government group responsible for hunting and killing demons haunting Japan and she is the one who recruits the main character to do this job with the promise to personally fulfill any of his wishes (so you know it’s a good deal without any hidden agenda on her part).

You can instantly tell that this lady is to be reckoned with and that she will use anything and anyone to achieve her goals. Considering what a rarity it is to see such a female character in a shounen manga, she really was a breath of fresh air for me personally and I uncritically support everything she did in that series since I (unlike some of you) love to see a girlboss winning.

7. Claire Stanfield (Baccano!)

He’s a cute guy who instantly got a crush on a lady who tried to kill him (he’s just like me fr). He also happens to be an assassin who is infamous for slaughtering his victims in a brutal fashion. So you know, gap moe! Love capable guys who are also loyal malewives!

8. Zagreus (Hades)

The Son of Hades, this character won’t ever shut up, cracks jokes at every opportunity, acts like an asshole when provoked and he also may end up in a polyamorous relationship with the personification of Death and one of the Greek Furies.

Zag could’ve been quite an insufferable character but thanks to the strong writing he comes off as a charming, kind, honest and chill dude who just wants his family and his friends to be happy and at peace with themselves. Also he’s an important genuine sassy bottom representation! We need more of those!

9 and 10. Hori Masayuki and Kashima Yuu (Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki kun) (do not separate them!!!)

They were the Blueprint for me. The two absolutely dense and idiotic characters who are unknowingly in love with each other. Hori is a short king with anger issues who is perpetually tired and simps non stop for Kashima, while she is an extremely charismatic and energetic himbo who wants to be noticed by him at all times.

I love all of the GSNK cast A LOT but these two will always have a special place in my heart since their relationship is so silly and yet so compelling. They really should kiss ASAP.