#a real bright spot because the rest of the episode was a bit of a mess if I'm honest

[elegantmarigold]

Was watching the new code geass series (roze of the recapture) and who do I hear but James Hayward himself?? The blorbo from my podcast??? Jimmy Yamaguchi?!?! I'm my code geass anime?!?! No idea who this sanshiro guy is but he just got a ton of points in my book for sounding like the tsv character ever, very cool of him

[flanaganfilm]

Good day Mr Flanagan. please what does "the rest is confetti" mean to you and in the context it was used in hill house??

Okay, here we go. Buckle up for a long read.

To answer this, I've got to explain a little bit about what was happening and where I was when I sat down to write episode 10 of The Haunting of Hill House.

Hill House was not a fun shoot. The picture above is from very early in production, when I was still chubby and happy.

It was my first foray into television. I was absolutely terrified that I'd mess it up. So I'd opted to direct all of the episodes myself, figuring that - if nothing else - I'd have no one else to blame if it went south.

It was the most grueling professional experience of my career. The shoot was by no means a smooth one, every day was an uphill battle from a budgetary perspective, and between the three giant production entities involved with the production, I spent a lot of time fighting over the creative and logistical elements of the series.

I began losing weight. I was smoking two packs of cigarettes a day.

By the end of the shoot, I had dropped almost 40 lbs.

I was very depressed. Every day was a battle, and for the first time in my career, I wasn't excited to go to work in the morning. We were fighting for basic resources, fighting for the show we wanted, and even fighting amongst ourselves by the end. It was grueling.

We hadn't written all of the scripts when we started production. I believe we had finished through episode 7, but the rest of the scripts had to be finished while we were already shooting.

We'd mapped everything out in the writers room, and I had great support on the other episodes, but I was writing the finale solo. I'd thought I'd be able to juggle it with everything else. I quickly fell behind.

I finally got to the script about halfway through production. I'd work on it between takes at the monitor, and then get home to our tiny rental house in Atlanta, where Kate was waiting with our baby son. (One of the rare bright spots of this shoot came when Kate found out she was pregnant about halfway through production. We even named our daughter Theodora, in honor of her origins.)

I'd typically fall down from exhaustion when I got home, but I had to push through it and work on the script. My weekends were spent shotlisting and prepping for upcoming episodes. We didn't have enough time to stay ahead of prep, so every available day was used for that... I went three months without a single day off at one point.

I'd sit up late staring at the script. I was in a dark, dark place. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and feeling like I lived in an eternal present. Each day bled into the next and it didn't feel like there was an end in sight. That feeling of unreality was heightened because we kept returning to the same sets, same locations, and even the same scenes throughout the 100 shooting-day production. Stepping back into the exact room we had shot in days or weeks or even months ago made the whole thing feel absolutely surreal. Making movies is always an non-linear experience, but this one felt particularly so... it was like the days of our lives were happening to us all out of order.

I remember feeling something like despair creeping into my daily experience on the show. And I remember dwelling on that when I got into the scene work of episode 10.

As I worked through the draft, I recall that despair coloring a lot of what was on the page. My filter was breaking down. There's a monologue at the beginning of the episode where Steven's wife Leigh (played by my dear friend Samantha Sloyan) spews out a torrent of eviscerating insults about Steve's value as a writer. That is just me vomiting onto myself. She was voicing all of my deepest insecurities about myself at the time, and of what I was doing with this series.

She says "Is anything real before you write it, Steve? The things you write about, they're real. Those people are real, their feelings are real, their pain is real - but not to you, is it. Not until you chew it up, digest it, and shit it out onto a piece of paper and even then, it's a pale imitation at best."

This was the mindset I was in for a lot of the shoot. The writing became a reflection of a lot of that turmoil, and I knew who I was referring to in that monologue - I was talking about my family. I was talking about how much of their lives I'd used as building material for this show. I was talking about the fact that I'd lost two loved ones to suicide, and seen what it had done to my mother in particular. And I knew I was using - possibly even exploiting - those people for this series.

There's a lot of despair in this episode. The Red Room, as we conceived it, was a place that would feed upon those emotions. Grief, sadness, loss... those were the real ghosts of our series, and where our characters find themselves at the start of the finale. They're being slowly digested - eaten alive - by those feelings.

So finally, it came time to write Nell's final scene with her siblings. I knew from the outline we'd constructed in the writers room what this was supposed to accomplish - she was supposed to be their salvation. She was supposed to take all of these feelings that we'd been wrestling with and finally provide catharsis... finally say something that would free everyone.

I remember sitting with a blinking cursor for a long time. The Crain siblings had just turned and seen Nellie standing by the door, and suddenly were able to hear her speak. But what should she say? What would I say? What would I want someone to say to me?

What she ultimately says lays bare a lot of what I was thinking about when it comes to grief. It exists outside of linear time, much as I felt I existed at the time. That sense of eternal present, that sense of a nonlinear eternity of moments and memories - it all came out in her speech to her brothers and sisters.

I remember feeling, looking at my insane present and looking back at my past, how strangely overwhelmed I was by memories. That I wasn't experiencing time in a straight line, and hadn't been for a while - for the better part of a year, I'd felt more like I was standing in a whirlwind of moments. "Our moments fall around us like..." Nell said, and I recall sitting back and trying to find the words.

"Rain," for certain, but there was something too uniform about that. The moments of life as I experienced them weren't that orderly, they weren't that small. They didn't fall the same way. Some sailed by, fast and unremarkable, while others lingered in front of me, twisting and stretching. So it was a good word, but not the right word. I left it on the page though.

"Snow" was my next attempt. Better, in that I imagined the snow blowing in the wind, swirling and dancing and feeling more organic. More chaotic. More like life. But for some reason, the word that stuck with me, the word I felt Nell Crain would connect with was...

"Confetti."

And that was because I was thinking not of Victoria Pedretti at this point, but of Violet McGraw.

Violet played Young Nell, and I wondered what she might have said if she experienced time this way. As an adult, Nell was despairing. Nell was overwhelmed. But as a child... there was an innocence to the word. There was a joy to the word.

I imagined moments falling around her, this little girl with the big smile and the wide eyes. Her moments would be colorful. They would be of different shapes and sizes, some falling fast and some falling slow, flipping and turning and dancing in the air, independent of the others. Sparkling, whirling, doing lazy summersaults as they sauntered down to Earth.

I thought of myself, and of the members of my family. I thought of those we'd lost. I realized what I hoped for them, and for us all, in the end... was to look upon that mosaic of experience, that avalanche of days and minutes and moments... and to smile with some of the joy we had as children.

And this, I thought, was something that gave me hope. This gave me a glimpse of some kind of salvation for them. This was also how I hoped my life might seem if I was a ghost - a cascade of color and light and shape and movement, something I could dance in.

So Nell smiled and said... "or confetti."

It stuck with me. The rest of her monologue gets heavy again, and gets to the real point of the show - the point of the whole series, if I'm honest - and that's forgiveness.

I figured the only thing that would let the Crain children out of the Red Room was to be forgiven. I thought of the losses in my own family, and I thought of what I wished for my mother and for my aunts and uncles and cousins and I tried to pour that into her final words.

"I loved you completely, and you loved me the same," she said, "that's all." And this was the point I wanted the most to make. That at the end of our life, if we can say this about each other, the rest doesn't matter. The rest is that rainstorm, or that blizzard, that fell around this one central truth, and maybe built itself in piles around it, to the point we lost sight of it along the way.

And I thought again of that little girl, and almost as an afterthought, wrote "The rest is confetti."

I liked the way it sounded, but I was insecure about the line. I almost took it out, in fact. I remember asking Kate to read the scene and talking about that last line with her. "Is it too cute?" I wondered. She was on the fence. "Depends on how it's acted," she said, and I figured she was right. We could always take it out if it didn't work. The scene could end with "I loved you completely, and you loved me the same. That's all."

Why not shoot it and see what happened.

I turned in the script, we published it quickly so that we could start breaking it down and prepping it. And the next morning I was back on set. I'd deal with episode 10 when it came down the pipe again, sometime in the coming months. We had a lot of shooting to get through before I had to worry about it.

I recall Netflix asking me to cut a lot of that monologue, and I remember them also having questions about the "confetti" line. I pointed out that it didn't cost us any extra to shoot it all, it was only words, and fought to keep the script intact.

Ultimately, they insisted I make a series of cuts on the page. I begrudgingly agreed, but left Nell's speech alone. I made superficial cuts around it, throughout the draft, and even considered changing the font size to fool them into thinking it had gotten shorter (I ultimately was told I wouldn't fool anyone and not to risk starting a war). But Nellie's final goodbye stayed intact.

It must be said - Victoria Pedretti SLAUGHTERED this scene.

By the time we got around to filming it, things had never been worse for the production. There was almost nothing left for a lot of us. Tensions were sky-high, resources had been exhausted completely, and we were all ready to give up.

Filming in the mold-ridden Red Room was depressing, morose, and led to a lot of arguments and unpleasantness. The room itself just felt gross, always, and we were in there for days at a time. The last thing we had to shoot in there was Nellie's goodbye.

Victoria came to set having to push through pages of monologue, and she did so with captivating bravado. I recall being teary-eyed at the monitor watching her work. And when we finally made it to the last line, I watched her deliver it with... a smile. A sincere, innocent, longing, joyful smile. A smile informed by the sadness, grief, and loss of her own situation, of her own life... but a smile that finds forgiveness and grace after all. Pedretti knew how to say the line, and how that word would work.

And as she said it, I knew it would stay in the show.

Over the years, that sentence has become something of a tagline for The Haunting of Hill House. I'm always a bit mystified and touched when I see people approach me with the line on T-shirts, or even tattooed on their bodies.

I started signing it with autographs back in 2020 after enough fans asked me to. Now it's my go-to when I sign anything related to Hill House.

The line, for me, represents a lot of things.

It's about the insane, chaotic, non-linear experience of making that show. It's about trying to find and hold onto joy, even in the grips of despair.

It's about the way the moments of our lives aren't linear, not really, and how we may be unable to understand them as we exist in their flurry. It's about finding hope, innocence and forgiveness in the final reckoning.

And it's about how, outside of our love for each other, the rest is just... well, it's fleeting. It's colorful. It's overwhelming. It's blinding. It's dancing. And, if we look at it right, it's beautiful. But it's also light. It's tinsel. It flits and dances and falls and fades, it's as light as air.

The rest is the stuff that falls around us, and flits away into nothing.

It's the love that stays.

[prodigal-howlter]

Hell of a Mark

Ship: Broyo Rating: E Contains: Jealousy, Possessive behaviour, smut, choking, biting, bloodplay, rough sex, degradation, dom/sub, daddy kink, older man/younger man, frottage, use of the word "slut" as a title (one time) (in play, both parties are into it), Gil gets dark (but Mal thinks it's hot), Masochist Malcolm Bright, Sadist Gil Arroyo, Light Painplay, use of a vibrator, consent, aftercare, and cuddling. Initial prompt: The Job Words: 5486 Summary: One of Malcolm’s old friends from boarding school arrives at the office. Gil gets a little bit jealous.

Read below or on AO3

So… here we are! My first smut for Prodigal Son. This one was an accident that was encouraged by the Prodigal Son Trash Discord group.

I was watching the episode with Vijay and got an idea for Gil to be jealous and suddenly I had written 300 words in 15 minutes, and then the rest just kind of happened.

A HUGE special shout out to my friends Ratt and Vee for beating and the squad in the groupchat for being so supportive of me writing this and for screaming about these two horny potato men at 3 am.

On to this fic!

Gil watches Malcolm's "friend" through the office window. He's still here long after the profiler had disappeared into his husband's office. The locked door stands between them, blocking him from the past waiting on the other side. He's waiting for Malcolm to return, but Gil knows he won't. He huffs as he closes the blinds, shielding them from view. 

Malcolm chuckles from his spot on top of the desk, rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, "Stop staring at him like you want to mount his head over your fireplace."

"Why? I do." Gil glares, striding across the small space to his chair, "What makes this guy special enough to call you baby boy?"

"Because I was friends with him in boarding school. Why are you being so fussy about him?" Malcolm asks, turning on the desk to face where the older man sits. "I mean, he's just a friend..."

"Kid, be real. How many Vijays do you know?"

"Just this one. Why?"

"Because that means that this is the same Vijay that you dated for seven months, experimented with, and, if I remember correctly, 'fucked you so hard you couldn't remember your name?' Is that the same Vijay that walked into my precinct, winked at my husband and called him baby boy? This is the same Vijay as your little school buddy?" His jaw sets halfway through the rant, and Malcolm feels heat pooling in his stomach.

"Fuck..." He whispers, looking at the ground. "Um, yeah... that's him."

Gil raises an eyebrow challengingly and his hands rest on Malcolm's hips, "Last time I checked, I'm the only one allowed to call you baby boy now. Not this overdressed insurance bastard." Malcolm's lashes flutter as his breath quickens, "Sorry, I shouldn't be so primitive." 

Malcolm finally looks him in the eye, and blushes, "Or maybe you could..."

Gil's gaze darkens, and a smile creeps across his expression, "Oh, do you like this Malcolm Bright? No, wait, it's Bright-Arroyo now. Because I had to put my name on what's mine." Bright shivers and nods, "You like when Daddy gets possessive, don't you?" He tightens his grip. "Want me to make sure your little boarding school fling knows that you're mine and that no one else can give it to you how I can?"

Malcolm whimpers and nods, hand trembling. His breathing stutters and Gil pushes his jealousy aside for a moment, concern painting his features. 

"Hey, hey..." Gil murmurs, "It's okay if you are into this. I promise, Mal. And if you are, you're in luck because I'm sitting here thinking up a hundred different ways to make sure that Corner Bench friend of yours knows you're mine."

"Corner Table..." Malcolm murmurs in an attempt to hide his chagrin.

"Irrelevant." Gil growls, "Now, how about you sit on Daddy's lap and I will mark that neck of yours nice and pretty?" The younger man nods, sitting on his lap in the chair, thighs bracketing Gil's left leg.

Malcolm connects their lips sloppily as Gil's hands guide his form to grind down against his slacks.

"And then," Gil continues, nipping at his stubbled jaw, "I’m going to drive you home and take you apart on that bed of yours. I intend to make you scream for me and fuck you hard enough that I can make you forget everything but my name. I’ll make you beg for me until your throat is hoarse, maybe then, I will let you cum. How does that sound, baby boy?"

Malcolm shivers at the title and whimpers, his left hand tangling in Gil's hair. "Please..."

"Already rehearsing for me?" Gil chuckles darkly, "Such a good boy for me, aren't you?" A broken sound slips past Malcolm's lips, and the older man chases it with his tongue. He nips at his lip, pulling it away and letting it fall back into place. "You have to stay nice and quiet for me, okay?"

Malcolm cuts a whimper short, chewing his lip. Gil ducks his head, pressing kisses along his jaw and down the column of his neck. "D-Daddy..." He whines, the sound barely reaching Gil's ear. 

"Good, keep quiet, baby," He says against the skin. As punctuation, Gil delivers a claiming lick to the skin. The younger shivers and presses his hips down into the jut of his pelvis. "You're doing so good for me. Let me finish up here and then we can head home so I can take you apart for real." Malcolm nods, grinding against him while Gil's teeth scrape against the skin connecting his throat to his shoulder. He nips at one point, causing the younger to gasp. "We're taking too long." He whispers, "We need to hurry this up." 

Malcolm nods and speeds up his thrusting. 

Gil bites at the skin, and purrs when he feels the liquid dripping across his lip, "Ooh... Shit. Got some blood outta that one..." The profiler mewls softly as Gil licks at the skin, soothing the angry ring of teeth marks. The metallic taste explodes in his mouth and he growls possessively. 

"D-Don't let it get on my shirt please..." 

"It won't, it's not getting past me. But now, you have a pretty ring of my teeth on your shoulder." Gil growls as Malcolm shivers, begging silently for him to continue. His hips stutter, and he whimpers, "Please?" 

"Please, what?"

"Mark me, Daddy." Malcolm whispers, "Bullpen be damned." With the reminder of their current location, Gil reaches down and grinds the heel of his hand into Malcolm’s clothed cock. "Fuck, please..." He gasps, pushing to reconnect their lips.

Gil kisses back aggressively and gropes Malcolm's length through the black fabric. It's not enough. "Such a good boy, but we have to get out of here if you want me to really own you. So I need you to soften up, or mess up those expensive slacks you insist on wearing." 

The word choice shoots a pang of desire to Malcolm's core as he nods. Nothing in the world sounds more enticing than being pinned under his husband in the loft. His hips jerk down and a punched-out noise rips from his throat. 

"That's it. Take what you need from me, baby boy." He purrs, kissing his jaw. Gil runs his fingers over the skin and revels in the broken gasp he receives in reply. "You're doing so good, are you close?" 

Malcolm nods mutely, accelerating his movements. "Fuck, Gil..."

"Look at you, Malcolm. Desperate just from me biting your neck?" Malcolm gasps and whines a curse, "Fuck, baby, can you cum for me? Cum for daddy, baby."

Malcolm shudders, pressing against his hand, "Fuck, Gil, can you talk to me?"

"Talk to you? What do you me– Oh... You want me to tell you everything I'm going to do to you later, don't you?" Gil's hand gropes rougher and teases the wet spot in Malcolm’s slacks. He's met with a gasp, and a smile tugs at his lip as he presses a kiss to Malcolm's face. 

The younger man shakes his head against Gil's shoulder, rolling his hips rhythmically. "N-no..."

"No? How about I tell you about how you belong to me?" In lieu of a reply, Malcolm whines. "Ah, so that's what you want. Do you want to be reminded that every last piece of you is mine? I can do that." He murmurs promises into his brown hair, and the words go straight to his core. "However, I have to save some for you later tonight. So instead, I will leave you with this: You're mine, Malcolm Bright. Every last cell in your body is mine. Your noises, your breaths, all of it. And this..." Gil's grip tightens around the bulge, "Is mine. This is my pathetic little cock, and I can make it cum when I please. Isn't that right, baby boy?"

"Da-ddy... 'm close..." 

"I know you are, baby, cum for me. Let go." With that final demand, Malcolm's form crumbles against his chest. He whispers a curse, and the damp spot in his boxers grows. "That's it... Good boy. So good for me, Malcolm, so good for daddy." He connects their lips and holds him tightly, the afterglow slowly fading. 

---

A few minutes later, he nuzzles against Malcolm's jaw, "Alright, sweetheart?" 

"Mhmn... Can we go home now?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Gil purrs, helping Malcolm stand, "I'm going to let JT and Dani know you're okay. They were worried you were having a flashback episode when you ran off to hide in here."

"How long have we been gone?"

"Only an hour or so, but I told them you needed a bit of time to get your bearings and to send your little friend home."

"Hey, Gil? Thank you." He murmurs, hugging his husband tightly. 

"Of course, baby boy. Let's head home, I still need to remind you who you belong to."

---

The warm air fills the space in the Le Mans and offers a welcome purr. It's thick, ablaze with lust, and Malcolm can't stop squirming. 

Gil's hands are white-knuckle on the wheel, and he doesn't dare to look anywhere but forward. "Stop squirming, baby." He growls, voice low, "Or I will give you something to squirm about." Malcolm shivers, and a broken mewl cuts through the air. "But knowing you, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

The hornier Malcolm gets, the more he rambles, less and less of it making sense, "Mhmn, daddy." He whimpers, cock beginning to fill out again. He desperately clenches his fists in his slacks to resist the urge to touch himself.

Gil chuckles, hearing in real-time as the man's brain goes offline, "God, you're already horny again? I knew you were desperate for me, but not like this..." His voice breaks into a purr, hands wringing at 10 and 2. 

Malcolm raises an eyebrow, "If I didn't know better... I'd think you're just as desperate. I mean, all your tells are there… Besides, I know you’re desperate since you didn’t get to orgasm at the precinct.” 

"Don't profile me, not right now..." He groans, resisting the urge to palm himself.

"Here, daddy, why don't I help you with that..." Malcolm murmurs.

"What're you talking abou– Oh fuck!" Gil yelps as Malcolm's hand slips around his length, friction blocked by the layers of fabric. "Malcolm! Fuck!" His voice cracks as his footfalls heavily on the gas. Luckily, for once, New York has decided to keep the road in front of him clear as he corrects his speed and levels his breathing. "Jesus, kid, that's how you get us killed!" Malcolm smirks and goes to remove his hand, but Gil's right hand wraps around his wrist. "Did I tell you to stop?"

"No, but you said it'd cause an accident." Malcolm mocks, his face feigning innocence, "And I'd hate to make you get in trouble with the law..."

Gil scoffs, "You're just asking for me to fuck you into the mattress aren't you?" 

"Begging for it, daddy," he purrs as they roll to a stop at a red light. His hand returns to its place against Gil's crotch, palming the hardon waiting for him beneath the fabric. 

Gil moans and swallows. He climbs out of the car and opens the door for the younger man, "Coming?"

"Hopefully."

"Good God, kid, I need you to get a grip or we aren't going to make it inside." Malcolm laughs, digging his keys from his jacket to unlock the door. 

Malcolm's lips quirk up into a smirk, as he jingles them, "Or, you take me right here, and then I call Vijay to clean me up. Though to be honest, he’d probably like to add to the mess."

He knows it's a risk, but if he's been reading the afternoon correctly...

As if on cue, Gil's gaze darkens. He's looking at Bright like he wants to ravish him. He pierces the younger man with brown eyes, fire fueling the burn in Malcolm's stomach. Gil's hands grab his jaw, and he glowers, "You want to say that again, baby?" Malcolm shakes his head, eyes wide, "That's what I fucking thought." His voice lowers to a growl as the younger man falls back against the side of the Le Mans. "Now, I want you upstairs in the next five minutes, or I will edge you until you fucking cry. Frankly, I should regardless, you've been a brat all day." 

Malcolm whimpers, and Gil laughs darkly, "Good boy. Now, get upstairs." 

Without waiting, he rushes into the building, leaving the other man behind. The graffitied door slams and he chases up the stairs behind him, meeting him at the door as he unlocks it. Before he can unlock the door, he presses Malcolm into the wall in a deep, claiming kiss. "G-Gil..." He whimpers, wrapping his legs around the older man's hips. Gil circles his arms around Malcolm, carrying him to the door to unlock it.

He opens the door as Sunshine chirps a hello. "Hi, sweetheart," Gil greets kindly, "We'll be with you in just a moment. I need to take care of your daddy first."

Malcolm dopily smiles, licking off of Gil's neck. He mumbles, "I thought you were daddy. Or at least, that's what I've been shouting..."

"God, you are such a brat." He replies, pushing him back on the bed, and kissing him sloppily. Gil nips, ripping a whimper from Malcolm's chest, "What do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me, daddy. Remind me who owns me." Malcolm mewls, arching his back dramatically, performatively. "I wanna feel you for days."

With a whispered curse, Gil removes his sweater and t-shirt, unclasping his belt and pulling it from his slacks. Malcolm reaches up to remove his suit coat, but Gil stops him. "Let me." He nods, dropping his hands to the grey sheets as Gil removes the jacket and unknots his tie. "Hey, baby? Are you married to this tie?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Good. Hands above your head. I wanna tie you up." The younger man nods and reaches up, hands side by side. Gil knots the silky tie around his hands, restricting his movements. Malcolm wiggles, testing the knot and whines when he realizes. "Is this okay?"

"It's perfect."Malcolm’s mind flicks to his time chained up, but the forgiving softness of the tie assures him that this is Gil and not Watkins, "Can we please... I need you to... fuck..."

"I know. Is your stomach burning yet? I know how horny you can get, and I think I want you to be that desperate before I fuck you. I want you to be begging for it, whining and screaming for me. Then.. Then we’ll see about getting you to forget all that noise in your head. Deal?" 

Malcolm nods, licking into Gil's mouth desperately, "Please..."

"What's funnier, Malcolm, is that you're already halfway there." Gil nips at his neck, licking over the ring of teeth from earlier. The younger whines, voice cracking as he cants his hips upward. "See? You already are responding to my voice like a good little slut." 

It's not often that he uses the title, but the moment it slips past his lips, Malcolm releases a punched-out noise. Gil tilts his head, pressing their clothed lower halves together. 

"Decisions, decisions... Do I dare try and wring one orgasm out of you first, or should I put you right on the edge? Maybe I could make you cum, and then after you're all sensitive, I can use that to my advantage and make you desperate. What do you think, baby boy?" 

Malcolm whimpers, desperately writhing against the sheets, "Please... Any of it, whatever you're willing to give me! Fuck, please! Make me yours, mark me, take me! Fuck, Gil!"

"You're right. You are mine, so why shouldn't I pick what I want to do with you?" Gil leans down, licking possessively over the younger man's throat, trailing down his sternum. "That's it, whimper for me..." His goatee scratches gently against the skin on Malcolm's pec, wracking shivers through his body.

"Please..." Malcolm whispers, hands wriggling in their confinement. 

As if waiting for an invitation, Gil's teeth sink into the skin over Malcolm's left nipple, hand splaying over the skin under his right ribs. He ghosts his nails over the taut skin, feeling it rise and fall with Malcolm's breaths. Gil suckles, flicking his tongue over the nub, wringing out moan after moan from his husband. "You're doing so good."

Malcolm whimpers, pressing his hips up against the crotch of his slacks. The zipper grinds against the fabric of his boxers creating an uncomfortable sensation, but the wet spot growing by his hip makes the entire situation torturous. Gil's torso stops him from moving, and he groans in frustration. ‘Gil must be misinterpreting’, Malcolm thinks, as he feels him shift to the other nipple, giving it the same bruising treatment. 

Gil pulls off for a brief moment, breaths hot against his saliva-soaked skin. His voice travelling just above a growl, "You have two options here, Bright. I want you to either profile the situation and figure out what I'm planning on doing to you, or I want you to talk."

Malcolm's breathing stutters and Gil fights to grin when he feels it, "T-talk to you? Fuck, what do you want me to say?"

He replies with a head tilt and an eyebrow raise; lips kissing and licking down the profiler's stomach.

"Um... fuck... I don't know what you want me to sa-aaay..." He whines, words cracking with desperation, as Gil sucks mark after mark into the expanse of his stomach. "The profile today was a tricky o-one to come... I mean... take apart. Fuck!! Ow!"

He bites down again, leaving another ring of teeth against the skin over his hip.

"Not about work." Gil amends, running his thumb over the spot he'd bit, "I want you to talk while I suck on your pretty cock, baby." He reaches down, unbuttoning Malcolm's slacks, pulling them down his legs and off with his shoes, socks, and belt, "That way I can hear in real-time when exactly you fall apart and get desperate for me." When he finally gets Malcolm's dick free, he licks and sucks the tip into his mouth.

Malcolm moans watching Gil swallow down along his length, stuttering out, "O-okay... Fuck... um... Daddy! Fuck!" He gasps, jerking his hips to no avail, feeling Gil's grasp on his hip, digging on the right side of pleasure-pain. "I... Um... Sunshine did something f-fuck-funny today? S-she... Daddy! She... um... She she she..."

Gil pops off, staring up at him from his place on the floor, crouching between his thighs, "She what? If you're not going to profile the situation, at least continue your story. My love, I'm on the edge of my seat. Tell me exactly what she did."

"She... She was pl-fuck... playing on the counter and... and um... di-discovered the little bell ball you got her a... ah... fuck please... ah... a few weeks ago rolls. And she..." Malcolm mewls, head falling back as Gil's lips reach the base of his dick. 

Gil pulls off, dragging his teeth lightly over the length before speaking, "Aww, are you saying she tipped it over? Was she playing on the edge?" His voice has gotten rougher due to the stress on his throat, "Come on, baby, tell me how it ends!"

At that moment, it clicks for Malcolm what's happening. "Y-you're going to edge me?!" He yelps, head falling back against the sheets, eyes falling close as he draws in gulps of air. 

Gil laughs, "Ah, he finally gets it. I knew that being desperate made your reflexes slow down, but not this much. I was even making it easy on you! Tell me when you're close." Malcolm nods, hips jerking against the sensations of his husband's tongue tracing against the base of his cock down past his perineum to... "You have got to be fucking kidding me, kid." Gil sighs, touching his fingers to the end of the plug. "You want to explain what this is to me?"

"It was meant to be a surprise."

"For me or your corner desk boy?" He chuckles at the broken whine ripped from Malcolm's chest when he turns it, feeling the lube added fairly recently aiding in its movement.

"C-corner table!" He sobs, "Fuck please keep doing that I'm so fucking close..." As he says it, Gil pulls away, ceasing all contact. 

"Well, lose it. You know what happens when you cum without permission. If you cum now, that's all you're getting tonight. I will still be reminding you who you belong to and you won't get to cum again. I will make you desperate for it, but you won't get it. Because, baby, you're mine." 

Malcolm whimpers, "Please..." His length twitches desperately, as he claws his way back from the edge. His stomach burns, and his chest rises and falls with rough breaths. "I wanna be good for you, daddy, please let me. I'll be so good for you." He's rambling, he's sure of it, but if the look on Gil's face proves anything, it's working wonders. "I just wanna please you. This is for you, all of me. I just--" Malcolm’s cock drools a steady stream of precum on his stomach, and Gil wishes he could lick it up. 

"Shhhh... Calm down, baby. I need you to calm down or you’re going to accidentally cum." Gil purrs, kissing him softly. "You're doing good, but I wanna switch gears."

"Wha--?"

"I still want to edge you another time or two, but I think I want to go about it differently. How would you feel about us trying out that pretty new bullet toy you bought the other day? The ring one."

"Yes, please!" Malcolm nods, eyes refusing to open, "It's in the steamer trunk in a black bag. I haven't opened it yet. I didn't wanna use it without you." 

"Hmmm... Good boy." He leans down, pressing a kiss to Malcolm's ribs before stepping to the end of the bed and retrieving the bag and box. He rips into it, pulling the pastel blue silicone vibrator from the container and slides his fingers into the ring at the base, putting the notches in between his fingers. "Here we are." He turns it on and the noise fills the space between them. "Feeling far enough from the edge?"

"Mhmn." 

"Good." He passes the toy over Malcolm's nipples, reveling in the arch of his back against it. "You like that?" Not lingering too long in one spot, he trails the toy downwards, over his length slowly. "How about this?" The toy shoots vibrations through the tip of his cock, and Malcolm screams. "Aw, you sound so pretty, baby."

Malcolm murmurs, head rising to watch Gil's movements, "I--I'm close again, Gil..."

"You're what?" 

"Close!" He shouts, body thrashing under the toy's pressure. 

"Already? That's a shame, I'm having so much fun with this toy of yours..." He presses it down again, watching the tears fall from the younger's blue eyes. "You're doing so good... Hold it for me. Hold on." 

"I-- I can't..." Malcolm whines, pushing his hips downward, "Please I can't, daddy, turn it off!"

"Color?"  Gil asks, removing the toy from his hand and waiting for a reply.

"Green," Malcolm replies, begrudgingly. "I'm green."

"Are you just saying that?"

"No, ‘m green. This... fuck... this is the hottest scene we've done..." 

"Is that so?" Gil growls, giving himself a sympathetic squeeze through his slacks. He's going to have to fuck him soon, or else he's going to explode. 

"I need you inside of me, daddy." Bright whimpers, finally catching the older man's eye.

"Yeah... yeah, fuck. I need that too, baby." Gil's voice comes out ragged as he unbuttons his slacks, pulling them off finally. He stands at the side of the bed in his black boxers, and he swears he can see the way Malcolm's mouth waters at the outline of his cock. He palms himself over the fabric, giving the younger man a show. His hands fall on both sides of Bright's head, as he connects their lips filthily, "God, Malcolm, I wanted to take you in the office earlier. I wanted everyone there to know you're mine. To know I own you. Sure, they all do from your ring, but no... I want them to know I own you like this. I wanted to make sure your little friend knew you were mine. That no one else can give it to you like I can."

"Yours." Malcolm echoes, nuzzling Gil's chin, "I need you, Gil.."

Gil nods, reaching into the side table blindly, hand wrapping around the bottle of lube. With it in his right hand, his left drifts down to pull the toy from Malcolm's ass. When his fingers tap the end of the toy, a jolt passes through the man's spine. It turns to a shiver when he turns it, pulling it out slowly leaving him clenching around nothing. 

"Please..." He whimpers, "Please, please, please..."

"That's it, beg for me." Gil murmurs, "Good boy." He coats his fingers in lube, dropping it as he whispers praise into the air. He slips them into the younger's waiting hole, drinking in the gasps and mewls they're met with. He curls and scissors them, bumping along his husband's walls, searching for--

Bright cries out, cock twitching, "Oh fuck!" 

"There it is." He murmurs, pressing the fingers insistently against his prostate. "Come on, give me a pretty noise and I'll add a third."

In reply, Malcolm moans, back arching desperately. Gil rewards him with a third finger as he kisses him gently. He scissors them, making space for himself. "I'm good... please let it burn a little..." the profiler murmurs, not breaking eye contact as he sucks a lip into his mouth. 

With that, Gil pulls his fingers out and chuckles when he whines, "I have to take them out if you want me to fuck you, baby."

"I do, fuck, please put it in." 

Gil nods, running a hand over his dick, coating it in lube before he presses the tip inside. Malcolm begs for more, even when the older man inches into him. "I can't move until you're ready, sweetheart. I don't want you to get hurt." 

Malcolm raises an eyebrow at the words, "Much." He replies with a smirk.

The older man jerks his hips and groans. "Fuck, you feel amazing. Always so perfect for me, baby boy. Like you were made for my cock aren't you?" 

"For you. Only you, daddy." He whimpers, "Fuck, please... Fucking take me. Claim me. Make yours." 

Gil nods, fucking his hips into the younger, their moans mixing in the space between their lips, desperation painting every gasp, whimper, and curse. 

"T-talk to me, Gil, I'm not going to last much longer I'm so fucking sensitive." 

He nods, breaths coming out labored, "Fuck..." He rolls his hips, hitting Malcolm's spot dead-on each time, "You're mine." He starts, words falling past his lips like poetry, "You're so good for me, baby. You feel like you were made just for my cock. Your mouth and your perfect little ass. No one else gives it to you like this do they? Know why? Because they know you're mine. That you’re my baby boy."

"Daddy!" Malcolm echoes, rutting his hips to meet Gil thrust for thrust. He whimpers when Gil's hands come to meet his, as their fingers intertwine. "Fuck... Please, no one else fucks me like you do, give it to me! Just like you always have, make me yours, Sir. Give it to me. Please, mark me!" He whines, voice labored and wrecked from his moans. Gil nods, licking and sucking a mark into his throat, just under his jaw, hips finding a rhythm that's punctuated by perfect gasps. 

The mark comes up purple, as he licks it, nipping at the younger's jaw. "You're doing so good. Are you close?"

He nods, hooking his ankles behind Gil's hips, encouraging him to speed up his thrusts. He whines like it's a prayer, begging desperately, "Fuck, daddy, please... Please, please please, please... Let me cum for you. I'll be so good for you! I'm sorry for teasing you earlier, please let me cum. I wanna be good for you, please... 'M so close..."

"Fuck, cum for me, sweetheart. Show me how good daddy makes you feel. Come on, do it! Come on, be a good boy for me, Bright." He encourages, wrapping his hand around Malcolm's cock as he speeds up his thrusts. 

  He feels it before he hears it. The way Malcolm tightens around him, mewling and whimpering, a steady stream of 'Gil' and 'daddy' slipping from his mouth. Streaks of white hit his chest and Gil's hand as he arches, and Gil swears there's nothing more gorgeous in the world. 

He moves to pull out, but Malcolm stops him, "Keep going, please? I want you to cum in me, daddy. Please?" His blue eyes sparkle in the dying light from the outside, as he fights to catch his breath. 

"Fucking hell, kid." Gil groans, "Can you tell me who you belong to?"

"I belong to you, Daddy. I'm your baby boy." He whimpers from the overstimulation, clenching and unclenching around Gil's length moving inside of him. "Mark me, so no one else can have me, please... No one else can give it to me how you can. Please give it to me, daddy."

"Fuck! Baby!" Gil shouts, his orgasm overtaking him as he falls against the bed, breaths ghosting over Malcolm's throat as he fucks into him. "So so so good, for me."

Malcolm nuzzles against the older man as he pulls out; the feeling of cum drooling from his puffy hole causing him to shiver. "Thank you." He murmurs, kissing him again gently. 

"Of course, baby." Gil nods, smiling down at his husband, pulling the younger man on top of him. 

"I love you," He whispers, pressing a kiss to Gil's chest when they settle properly on the bed. 

"I love you, too. You did so good for me. Such a good boy for me, Malcolm. Thank you for trusting me and for being so responsive. You're so good." He whispers, fingers combing through Bright's hair, the other hand running up and down his arm. "Was that okay?"

"It was so good, Gil, thank you. Definitely in one of my top three scenes we've done. I needed that."

"I needed it too, sweetheart. I didn't realize I needed to be reminded I belong to you as much as you do me."

"Mhm, you're my husband. Especially when you're being all hot and possessive. Then you're extra my husband." They chuckle, connecting their lips in a gentle kiss. 

"That doesn't even make sense, you dork." Gil laughs, "We need to shower though before I order us dinner, alright?"

"In a minute..." Malcolm laughs, rolling onto his front, "I don't want to move, I feel like jelly."

"Now, you lazy baby." Gil prods, "I am prepared to carry you in there." Malcolm rolls over and raises his arms, "You're actually going to make me--" He rolls his eyes and picks up the other man, carrying him to the bathroom to turn on the shower, "You're so lucky I love you." His irritation is shadowed by the chuckle he lets slip but hides it with a kiss.

"I am."

----

The next day, the two walk into the precinct, separating at the entrance for Gil to collect coffees from the breakroom. 

"Good morning!" Malcolm cheerfully greets, all but skipping into the conference room. 

"Listen, I know you suddenly decided to be a morning person, but it's 8 am and I--" Dani starts, but trails off when she sees it. 

"Holy shit, Bright, did you get attacked by a vampire? That's a hell of a mark you've got there!" JT exclaims, brow furrowing when he notices the marks on Malcolm's throat. 

His hand rises to touch the ring of teeth peering just over the edge of the suit collar, "Um..." 

The two detectives' faces pale when they realize where it came from. Dani's jaw drops in disbelief, "I knew you guys were married, but I didn't realize Gil was that ki-"

"What are you guys talking about?" Gil interrupts, stepping into the room and handing Malcolm a mug of sugary coffee. 

"Nothing!" Malcolm replies quickly, blushing deeply.

"Nothing but Malcolm's possessive-ass, possibly vampiric husband." JT murmurs, handing Dani the case file to fill them in on the case. 

The three chuckle when Gil's face pinkens, enjoying the brief moment of flustering before continuing with the case discussion. 

Malcolm catches Gil's eye, touching his hand to the bite mark and blushes at the wink he receives in reply. 

He briefly wishes Vijay were still at the precinct, so he can finally know the truth: he's happily claimed.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

A real change of pace... To cool off... Here's a hyperfixation of mine that dates waaaaay back, to when I was little...

THOMAS THE TANK ENGINE & FRIENDS...

I've been thinking about the show's third season (1991-92) lately, for some reason.

Season 3, as I had learned in the recent years, was filmed in two separate portions - unusual in that every season in the classic series (approximately Seasons 1-7, 1984-2003ish) was typically filmed in one go. Not Season 3, for whatever reason.

It's been speculated by some fans that a showcase of the many props in London sometime in late 1991 impacted the filming, thus newer sets were built to accommodate the last portion of episodes. Maybe something else came up. Maybe something pertaining to the Japanese special THOMAS AND THE U.K. TRIP. Who knows...

And upon knowing the season's production history, you can't unsee it...

The first portion of Season 3, first released all at once on VHS - albeit with alternate, earlier narrations from Michael Angelis - in the UK in November 1991:

vs.

The second portion, aired in the spring/summer of 1992:

I kind of look at Season 3 as the coziest one. If Season 1 had a more pastoral, simplistic look with a chuffy synthesized soundtrack, and if Season 2 had a more dirty, sooty, industrial look... Season 3 is bright, colorful, cute, just warm and cozy really. Especially the nighttime scenes, which are real standouts here. Glossy models and softer faces constructed for the engine characters, too.

The music, composed by Mike O'Donnell and Junior Campbell, is what holds the season together - tonally, along with Angelis' narrations - or George Carlin's, if you grew up with the U.S. version like I did.

Sets in Season 3, Part 1 included the likes of Henry's Forest in addition to a lot of countryside paths, and a much more spacious beach. Knapford is the big station here, while Tidmouth is the big station in Part 2. The roundhouse interior is a real giveaway, too. Season 3, Part 2 seems a little greener, you have the the three-way set (bottom left), those big harbor buildings (top right), and the castle tunnel. Whatever the story called for, they built it: A scrapyard that Oliver escapes from, the China Clay Works, Bulgy's bridge, etc. Even without their major sets, they still made up for it with the new ones.

It's still quite cohesive and distinctively season 3, but someone like me? I notice the minute differences. You can easily tell which episode is 3A, or 3B.

Season 3 is one that I didn't have much of on VHS growing up in the late '90s/early '00s. I had seen pretty much all of them via tape volumes I rented back in the day, or through SHINING TIME STATION when it returned to air in 2000 to promote the movie. SHINING TIME, the show that essentially trojanhorsed THOMAS onto American airwaves. The VHS tapes... Particularly the volumes "Thomas Gets Bumped", "Daisy", and "Percy's Ghostly Trick". All grab-bags of episodes from the first three seasons - but they had those Season 3 episodes I often couldn't come by. They were elusive in a way because of that. Everything else I saw was via a compilation tape, like "Thomas' Christmas Party" and "10 Years of Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends".

And years later, I would be surprised to learn that an episode like 'Henry's Forest' was from that period - it feels like it could be a stealth Season 2 episode, albeit a calmer and less industrial-looking one. Maybe because it was on the aforementioned Christmas tape, my brain - as a 7-year-old kid - placed it in that era. Ditto 'A Scarf for Percy'. When I got a little bit older, I was able to place - sort of aesthetically - where each episode fell. A skim through IMDb would also help. Most I could reckon were from the '80s, and the rest from the early-to-mid '90s. Even with George Carlin narrating the majority of them.

Something about those episodes hit different to me when I was little, for sure, so I have a bit of an odd soft spot for them despite how I feel about that season overall. I think SHINING TIME's aesthetics and look also helps. I watched STS whenever it was on, as a really young kid circa 1995-96ish? I would remember asking "Why do the trains have faces? But no cowcatchers?" Then it was just the Thomas stories on VHS after that. I wouldn't really check out STS again until reruns came to Nick Jr., again, to promote THOMAS AND THE MAGIC RAILROAD - which Shining Time Station itself was a big part of. And yet my head links that season and STS, more so than 1 & 2. The coziness of both, the nostalgic American train station setting of STS and the comfy visuals of Season 3, just goes together quite nicely. Throw in some unrelated other things I loved back then, and that's one of my nostalgia cocktails in a way lol.

[the-stray-liger]

God, today's episode of G-Witch... On one hand, everyone's favorite Tanuki has begun the healing process, and found her resolve once again, but on the other... GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY, IT'S ALL GOING TO SHIT.

Guel and Miorine uncover Shaddiq's involvement with Dawn of Fold and the attack on Plant Quetta, (even though it was because that fat fucker Kenanji was INTERROGATING A GODDAMN CHILD) but Miorine tells Guell to not jump the gun and gather actual evidence, so both Kenanji and Guel return to Asticassia to find Sarius Zenelli in order to implicate Shaddiq.

Meanwhile, Prospera fucks over Miorine's negotiations with her usual brand of bullshit, causing a veritable powder keg to ignite as the entire city goes up in flames as the Cathedra forces and the Earthians come to blows... but at the same time, she just destroyed the Space Assembly League and Ochs Earth's hidden bunker stocked with the remaining Pre-Production Type Lfriths, both denying them the means to produce more Gundams like the Ur and Thorn, and to also deliver some measure of vengeance for her friends and family from the Vanadis Institute, who died as a result of the League's machinations, and the betrayal of Ochs Earth who funded the construction of the Lfriths to begin with.

That all aside, I was surprised to see SECELIA of all people not only being spot-on with her assessment of Martin's dilemma, but also telling him to nut up and come clean about his involvement in Nika's detainment to the rest of Earth House. Yeah, she's teasing Martin mercilessly, pushing at all of his buttons, and even coercing him into serving her so she keeps quiet... but once Martin pushes back, she's surprisingly calm and direct with him. Then, as we all see, the rest of Earth House is rather understanding regarding the whole situation, even if there are conflicting opinions once the truth comes out.

I am still recovering from today's episode tbh. Drank a bit last night so I'm not doing super bright so my thoughts aren't that detailed but there's a few things I was obsessed with in this episode

I love Kenanji so much because we get to see his ruthless, violent streak that he hides under that sociable and cheerful facade. Of course what he did is wrong but also he knows shit and thanks to him Guel was able to find out Shaddiq was behind Queta and the terrorist attack at Asticassia.

Which brings me to my actual favorite part of the episode-that scene with Norea losing her marbles and El5n holding her back as she cries for Sophie. It's the first time I've seen El5n show any sort of sympathy for anyone, and it happens to be because Norea is afraid of death but so is he. El5n acts happy go lucky because he knows he's a replaceable tool that will be scraped as soon as he's not useful anymore. That's why Nika wouldn't understand. But he can. Foaming at the mouth etc etc

I am also obsessed with the fact that Secelia, while blackmailing Martin actually managed to direct him to find a real solution and talk things through with the earth kids honestly. Like she did it in the worst possible way but she did it. Task failed successfully. I guess she did have a reason to be behind the counselling booth.

I love how we almost felt something positive for Prospera last episode because this one she was 100% back on her bullshit. Deadass started a carnage and destroyed every chance for peace on earth for her vengeance. I love that about her, I really really like how she is written as a ruthless and calculating person who is willing to let the world burn to get her way

And back to our tanuki. I am so glad she found her way out of her dark hole of depression. And I'm so happy to see how much the earth kids and specially Chuchu care for her and how thankful and appreciative she is of them!!! And now we get to see what Suletta will do now that she is truly free. She understands things for the first time and will make her own decisions now. What will those be? can't wait aaaaa

[popculturebuffet]

The Owl House Finale Review: Watching and Dreaming: So Long and Thanks for All The Magic

Hello all you happy people. Here we are. After reviewing all of season and the previous two finale specials… we're here. The end of the Owl House. It had a heck of a journey going from a fairly promising and fun show I missed several episodes of … to one of the best animated shows i've seen and one of my personal faviorites period. It's a true masterpiece. It may have some rough spots from disney cutting the finale off at the knees, but even with that Dana Terrace and her stalwart crew created a truly one of a kind show.

I also feel something I didn't think i'd have at the end of this series.. hope. While I admit I was annoyed at disney for only starting to see the show's popularity after gutting it… it resulted in the best kind of revenge. MILLIONS of views for each special in their free youtube release and at the time of this writing the show became Disney's 3rd most popular show period in DIsney+. For scale the #1 show? The Simpsons. And I feel it has the potetial to pass it which is not an easy task. It is very hard to kill the simpsons. Many have tried, none have succeeded.

The show's final three episodes brought the fandom out in huge force, and only caused it to GROW, something that rarely happens as a show is near it's end. The show is more popular than it's ever been.

It means that once Dana is ready.. a sequel, prequel, interquel, whatevertheywantquel is all but assured, and wether that's via another series or a graphic novel or even an in universe book like Amphibia got, the franchise really has a bright future ahead. Sure Disney could ignore this.. but even they aren't THAT stupid, and that threshold. At the very least the odds of the show getting an art of book like ducktales at some point just shot up exponetnially and i'd dearly love that given the show's attention to background detail. It's clear we'll get something more somehow and i'm pumped for it.

But with Dana taking a well deserved rest, disney taking 80 years to do a lot of things, this is the end for now.. and even if it's the end for keeps, it was a hell of a note to go out on. It took me several days to get to it just because I was so … not ready for it to be over, but once I got there the end.. was truly satisfying. Not without some bumps, but truly great. So let's go under the cut one lass time through the door.. and into the boiling isles.

The Power of Three

For starters the finale decided to mostly zero in on our main trio. The Hexasquad get plenty to do sure, but they feel kinda shuttled to the side. I'm mixed about this: on the one hand given how personal a foe belos was for Hunter, it does feel like a bit of a cheat that he gets no real final confrontation with him or even get to join in stomping him into even more paste than he already was. They get the intro which is DEEPLY disturbing and I had to pause multiple times just because it was a LOT to sit through, and amity gets both helping Luz realize what's going on and later freeing everybody, but as a whole their just kinda there rescuing the people from the archives. It's not a bad thing and it has some great moments, like Camilla rallying all of them with Glyphs, the parent reunions, and Hunter finding someone was waiting for him.. but it feels genuinely like since they decided to have the final battle just be the power trio veruss belos, with Rahne helping in the final act of it, they had no idea what to do with the rest of the leads in any signifigant way. It's where the time crunch shows the most as important moments like Hunter getting justice for flapjack, Camilla getting a proper meeting with eda and king (though the silent moment is nice) or the Collector's decision to leave are all just kinda relegated to narration. It's clear they ran out of time and just had to do what they could, and it's only feels so off because the first two specials packed so much in. The second lagged a bit with the boscha and kiki subplot but evne that felt like it had a good payoff with Boscha's tearful reunion with her girls and Kiki beign forced to help rebuild the world into something better. This finale is by no means bad an dI giv ethe wrtiers decent slack given the circumstances, it's just clear they streched this time as far as they could and the lins show. It's still remarkable it got THIS FAR without the time crunch really showing too bad.

The reason this dosen't wreck the episdoe though.. is the feeling of things coming full circle> We started this journey with just these three weirdos: An awkward teen who no one fit in with, a rogue witch fighting an unjust system alone and having closed herself off to everyone but her son, and a small dog monster unaware of his past with delusions of tyrancy. Three people who had really no one else and found each other. We end… with a strong and powerful witch whose finally got the understanding she craved from her mom, an adorable snake thing, a sibling and friends who would go to hell and back for her, a harpy who finally opened herself back up to people, decided to help others, and reconnected with those she'd shoved away, with her family once again close, and the love of her life back with her and a king who went from being lost, to being scared finding out just WHAT He was, to a brave titan who when held captive by a mad god for months.. still sees the poor kid as the lonely child he is and does everything he can to help. It's that growth that drives the episode. The only thing to really keep them on their toes is the nightmare guilt trip sequence. Which I have to be honest isn't great. The horror aspect is great and all.. but when you stop to think about it it makes absolutely no sense. The collector ended episode 2 snapping his fingers.. but this setup was clearly Belos' plan he told the kid, something he didn't have time for. There's also the fact that Belos and Collector seem to know things like Gus and Willow missing their parents, the whole encounter with the titan trappers, and eda's issues with her mom

It's just a very messy opening and we probably coudl've gottne to "luz's loved ones are abducted and she runs into the others alone", without all the extra steps. The actual reunion is heartwarming but getting there made no sense.

Thankfully the episode picks up right after that, including one of hte best gags in the show's history as Belos finds out the truth King's a titan and can counter the collector… and his response is the brilliant delivery of "the dog?" as if all the gears in his head are turning at once that he could've kidnapped King a THOUSAND TIMES at this point and sped up his plans exponetially.

We'll get to more of a belos in a bit, but honestly while his stuff with Rahne is neat… the real great stuff in act 1 is the main trio and the collector. The intiial games sequence continues that growth: in the opening episode, our heroes struggled against warden wrath of all people. In the finale? their going up against a god child making them particapte in reckless an dangerous games.. and easily counter each one: Luz has come so far that even getting eaten by a pac man head .. is something her PALISMEN easily fixes. King takes out super monkey ball and eda easily aces jenga. Despite being uncomrfortable and painful.. each one easily steps up and ends the game for the rest of them.

It's the next part though that defines who they are: when the collector goes off to cry instead of run or try to hurt him while he's distracted… Luz's only instinct is to help him, with King backing that up. Eda's isn't, but it's less pummel the child and more "I want my kids to be safe". Our heroes could probably beat the collector even with them being a god… but it's clear that's not the way to go. It builds off the series history: Amity, Lilith and Hunter weren't in the best places.. but by simply offering forgivness and understanding… Luz got the love of her life, a cool aunt and a dorky older brother. You can't save everyone, this episode makes that ABUDNATLY clear… but it's better to try first. To try and find out WHY someone is lashing out instead of simply lashing back.

And we find out the Collector, as i've always figured. For starters he had no real concept of death and thus his worse actions like the puppets or the draining spell were just him needing to be taught those were bad.. as I always said

And that it turns out he had NOTHING to do with the genocide of the titans: turns out the others of his species were his siblings, the archivests.. and it turns out his playing with king.. was genuine. The Collector was given the "task" of studying them, really just classic shoo out the younge rsibling stuff. But he genuinely loved them, being best friends and it was genuine… and then it all went to crap: the archivetsts murdered all of them, then most of the adults. The Collector got sealed.. because THE Titan thought it was his fault, and made a hasty mistake. The result was an innocent child got sealed for someone elses mistkaes, none were left.. and Belos got his hands on the kid instead and did far FAR worse.

It also shows once again that understanding each other.. is the real lesson here.. that by trying to understand WHY the collector did this and trying to show him empathy… our heroes save the world. The final fight with the collector isn't some big battle where they have to teach him during or requires some big trick. It's a responsible mom, a good friend, and a kind teen teaching a baby god baby empathy. And it's really nice. But given we have a gooey genocidal racist monster ot deal with it can't last.. which leads us to You Never LIstened Anyway and That's the Hell of It

Naturally Belos was always going to be the final boss. The series was centered around him, everything was building to fighthing him . It's why he lived on, and evne with the collector brought in to help provide some plot thrust for the last act… it was always going to end with him versus our heroes.

The how though.. is really fucking cool. I never thought of Belos fighting the titan and it makes for a perfect final boss form for him: he used "speaking" for the titan to give himself crediblity, stole his words to propel his own dark plans, and corrupted the land to serve himself. it only makes sense that Belos final plan.. is taking the island itself: he took the boiling isles in every other way… it makes sense his final battle is BECOMING them. A symbol of all the horror and death he's caused. The Meat Moss is also GENUINELY creepy, from the way it creeps, to how our heroes are barely keeping it away, to how it easily infects a CHILD with the collector. As he's always been, Belos is an infection to the island, and making it literal was a stroke of genius. It also adds a nice timer: this should in theory make him the victor… but he's still aclimating to the body, understandably given it's a gods, but it gives our heroes only so much time to stop him.

Well that and the fact Luz dies and comes back. And i'm.. mxied on this. I do think her death serves a purpose: it unlocks eda and king's super modes, and crystalizes the Collector's development, allowing them to finally understand death, break down sobbing before going to help the others.

The problem is that it feels like a poorly set up deus ex machina. She dies just so she can come back with a super mode that was never remotely foreshadowed. It seems sloppy and wreaks of how little time they had left to resolve this, and even then that's not a full excuse: Steven Universe's ending was ALSO rushed.. but the solution to that fight still felt entirley baked in and so damn cathartic: steven loosing his gem, us finally finding out what that means.. and steven finding out that no he's not rose. SHE'S GONE. After an entire series of doubt… he is himself, and he knows it. Here it's just "Hey i'm king's dad here's some super duper power with a time limit, go kick that guys ass. Oh and Hooty's a parasite. Byeeeeee"

Okay jokes aside… the scene with King's Dad IS pretty great. While Titan Form is the epitome of

The conversatoin itself is really good. Luz has one last burst of doubt and while I felt the camilla speech was a great ending.. it's entirely realistic that sometimes even after so much caharsis.. your self hatred dosen't entirely go away. I also like the Titan's "You assume he comes from a genuine place" I know many didn't.. but it dosen't really ERASE the tragedy or nuance in belos. He can both have started this mad quest due to a combination of indoctrination and wanting to save his brother.. and still be a selfish prick who wants to be the hero. His goals to start are noble.. but he could also still have a hero complex on top of that. It meshes with his character: all those people he killed didn't matter because their just monsters because baby it's all xp. He lashed out at Caleb just as much because he felt betrayed… as it clashed wit hhis worldview. He was the brave hero saving his brother from kidnapping… in this story instead he was a misguided man who murdered god knows how many witches to save someone who was happy where they were and simply didn't know Phillip was even looking for him. Belos narcisim.. is a key part of him: he built a religion around himself, sees luz holding to her values as "can't argue with crazy" and assumes that OF COURSE he'll get some big reward. This was always there, this line simply makes it more noticable.

King's dad is also just incredibly likeable. As Steve said he's just a guy. He wears a fun t'shirt, has a bear gut and has a giant eye parasite. Sidebar, I find the reveal Hooty is a titan parasite BRILLIANT. IT's done simply as a background detail, but it explains hooty JUST enough to be fun, but not enough to ruin the joke of Hooty being dnelssely baffling. We still don't know his full phislogy, but a few parts of him, why everyone is confused what he is despite being a bug demon, his ability to eat so much, the fact he seems to be the only one of his kind.. it all clicks together. I also find it hilaroius a giant clue to King's past that could shake the very foundation of the world.. was in our heroes living room being obnoxious this whole time. Hell he WAS their living room. And again while Titan Form is very "NEED A LAST MINUTE POWER UP RRRGGGGGHHHYYARRRRGGGGH" and I will never apologize for pointing that out.. the actual final battle?

The Final Battle is a beauitful work of animatoin, showing our power trio at full power: luz has a power boost, and eda and king still support her perfectly, with each acting awesomely in sych as the bat away belos , cumilating in the three seeing the entire isles. I also like the destruction he causes: the titan simply MOVING uproots the entire arm so it's verticle and whoever wasn't a puppet likely died, and the entire island shakes, and seeing the isle changed from above is great, as is them diving straight for wher emagic comes from , the heart, cumilating in one tense final push. I also love the Rhaneunion and while hunte'rs absence in the final battle is still felt…. I do feel Rahne deserved the spot. They've been fighting against belos as hard as they could, while belos has attempted to hypnotize them then taken their body to use as a puppet. They needed this. And crecsndoing the fight with Luz repearing the opening lines of the series as she tears him out of the titan.. fucking poetry. I will also give Titan Luz this: it looks visually impressive and giving it a time limit at least makes it not wreck the whole episode. She can only use it this once and if it runs out they die.

As I hinted out and outright said before the portion after this.. feels ab it rushed. The reunions are nice, but we miss a proper meeting between Camilla , Eda and King, the Collector decides to leave in narration, and generally it feels like a few important post final battle moments are left behind so we could have that opening. That said there are more touches I ddin't mention earlier that helped: the fact that for as little as we get Camilla simply hugs king and eda, Amity, being both good with kids and having learned to forgive, is the first one to offer a hand to the collector, and the titan's magic, his words, going away with him is bittersweet. Luz still has her staff, so she's not cut off from magic, but it takes an iconic part of the show away with it, in a really fitting manner. We also get some nice cutaways to wrap up the loose ends: the various coven heads are being kept from trying a hostile takeover by Darius and Eber (and likely the rest of the CATS), while the CATS themselves stop the coven scouts.. while also having steve offer an olive branch so they can throw away the masks and move on. That said none of this would work half as well if it weren't for what they likely also spent a lot of their time and budget on and this time, gloriously

Here We Are In The Future

The Epilogue.. is brilliant. For starter it makes the apocalyptic ending of belos and the collector having each trashed the island pretty bad easier to swallow in a way that dosen't feel cheap: while we do cut to the good part of the isles being stable again… it's made clear via Luz having helped out every birthday and impliclty every weekend she wasnt busy with high school that restoring the isles took work. It took time. It reminds me of what amphibia similarly did with their flash forward, showing it took ove ra year to even get back a semblance of the world afte rall Andrias did to it. But it also shows that the isle has recover: the market is back up, the school is back up, everything has recovered.

It also shows things are BETTER: the emprial castle is now simply dust and in it's place? A University of WIld Magic. It's both brilliant and hilarously off that Eda became a college dean after all this, that instead of having to hide constantly and hope she isn't caught.. she can teach what she's learned, teach the real history of the isle, and help create more wild witches. Hexside's still there, with multitracks now clearly the norm and some crossover between the schools, but they now have a next step. What happened to the necessary parts of the coven system?

But whatever replaced it, possibly eda herself.. has made a better place in the process. The two basilks, vee's siblings that escaped with her, happily sleeping in the trees is also really neat. It also dosen't suprise me that Edric is now a dorky professor and that Gus is teaching at only 16. It does suprise me GUS is the cool teacher, or at least look it, but good for him.

As for everyone else the futures all fit: Willow stuck with Flier Derby and is likely going pro, something I like> She and Hunter are clearly together despite how many edits people try ot make to the coutrary. Guys , they have a prom photo together where to quote my friend Kammie "She looks like she's going to eat him like dinner and hunter is happy to be the plate". The ship is canon. You can stilll ship whatever the fuck you want. Please stop. But yes that's adorable as is Flaps' grave and his new sister Waffles. She is certainly there, like any good palismen but I like how angry she looks from a distance… and when you zoom in you see it's just because she's a bird, birds can look like that. We also get Amity who apparently been traveling the world in an airship scrooge mcduck style to help his research

We also get some small followups for the recurring cast: Boscha is apparently peddling grudgby gear (though I say she's simply doing it as a job as while Luz is moving for college since finals JUST ended for her school she might just be leaving early to enjoy a summer with her pals, so Boscha may be simply going to the pros.. or maybe this is her life who knows?), Matt is a construction man with a construction mustache, Kikimora is working off her horrible crimes and LIlith gets to build a library while Hooty gets to live his best life on her back.

Of course saving the best for last, Luz staying to do high school has grown on me: while Camilla probably sin't going anywhere (With vee it's vauge), I like the idea that she stayed, and not only waasn't alone thanks to her sister, her sisters partner and her sisters friends along with other weridos who turned out where there all along, but found stuff to do: she did a sport, she graduated. Sure she'll probably be moving to the demon realm full time, but this way her leaving isn't jarring or puts her mother in an awkward situationa nd Luz can go forward having known she did the hard work. Also for those wondreing Masha probably wasn't in the Grom photo because they were eithe rholding the camera or releasing spiders into the ventlation system, like any good prom.

The ending party is also sweet… even if the spider cake ruins my ablility to sleep, I will never not love the horror of hooty holding a bat full of nails. But it ends iwth the collector popping by..a nd our heroes all bidding him and us farewell.

Watching and Dreaming is an excellent finale. It has holes but it should be clear by the week it took me to write this that it was an impactful, moving closing act to one of the best animated shows. It wasn't perfect.. but frankly who is. For what it i is, it's truly fantastic and if you haven't watched it.. go.. go do that. And if you have… then you can join me in crying. I will… dearly miss the owl house. There was nothing like it on tv and may not be again. In a shifting animation landscape where many a shows future is in question, netflix seems to be close to death, and wbd is under investigation for being absolute garbage, it' snice to have a great show like this, even if it was shoved out the door, go out on it's terms, with a solid ending. Until we get more, we're now exiting the boiling isles. Watch your step.. and thanks for reading.

[strega-nono]

Bonus episode: Cordelia review

I promised some of my most dedicated and ravenous fans a review of Cordelia, the new hot spot in Cleveland that Patrick and I went to for my farewell dinner. I will admit now we committed the truly unforgivable sin of not photographing a single plate or drink, so this will *gasp* be only written descriptions of our experience!

We had a 7:15 reservation and when we arrived (after valeting $25, love East 4th ST), we were promptly seated. Our server was attentive but kind of…disoriented? I think dude was probably having a night, and everything was taken care of but there was def something going on there. We got a bottle of Lambert petit royal seyssel (basically non champagne region champagne) and our server seemed pretty relieved that he didn’t have to go through the passion play of tasting and possible rejection because I’ve had it before. Are many people at Cordelia ordering bottles from their well-considered (but a bit narrow in scope and somewhat overpriced) wine list and then dramatically spitting out the samples directly into the faces of well-meaning staff? Curious minds want to know!

We decided to do chef’s prixe fixe, which on the menu promised 6-7 courses but which our server promised was actually like 9-10 courses and dessert. He was correct! Before I get into coursing, I need to tell you that the tasting menu was so much food despite Cordelia serving shareable small plates that I was audibly moaning in pain by dessert course.

First course: carrot muhammara with a toasted hazelnut dukkah (think a punchier hummus with texture) served with grilled bread. Pretty good although not a real reach in ambition. Our servers brought us extra crackers unsolicited when they saw we had finished the bread and still had spread left, which was a great move.

Second course: Salty cucumbers, which were much better than the description would imply. I would describe this as an elemental tzatziki without the yogurt masking the idiosyncratic tang of the cucumbers and the bite of the garlic and dill. It was served with a salsa matcha which added great texture to the dish and also surprised me with how spicy it was. Very simple but well executed; my only thought is this felt more like a gray area between a garnish or palate cleanser and a full course.

Third course: Lardo simmered melon. I need to admit here that not only am I not a real meat aficionado but I also detest meat-fat-fruit combos like prosciutto and melon, which this dish is a clear play on. So for this I will defer to Patrick who said it was delicious and loved it. I thought it tasted like the melon and lardo were mashed together in a dirty gym sock and left to sweat on the sun. Again, Patrick said it was great and he is assuredly a better arbiter here.

4th course: Bologna salad on toast. This easiest way to describe this dish is that this is a creative riff on ‘nduja, which is an incredible spreadable spicy salami. This dish worked in every regard; the toast provided the perfect vessel for the bologna spread, the pickled eggs softened the richness of the meat and provided needed acid, and the relish added a zippy finish that elevated the umami of the bologna. This was one of our faves and a good example of what Cordelia wants to do: telling a whimsical story using southern food.

Fifth course: Lam-burger Helper. Again, this is Cordelia nailing their specific lane with a unique angle on nostalgia. Another high point was this play on hamburger helper, the ubiquitous 90s pantry stable that promised all you needed was ground hamburger and the box would take care of the rest. This take with lamb married paparadelle as the vehicular noodle with an unctuous cheesy squash sauce, punctuated with bursts of bright green pistachio and olive. Defiantly rich and explosive, this may have been my favorite of the night (but I am just a hole for pasta).

Sixth AND seventh courses: these are going together because they were served together, which makes sense given that this course was basically a burger and fries. The fries were Jojos, and all I need to say about them is that jojos are…fine. Like, it’s a giant potato wedge fry. Unless something goes horribly wrong they are generally serviceable. I was disappointed with these just because they are so anodyne and so little was done to make them unique or dynamic, but they were fine. The burger-served in 4 pull-apart sliders-was great, one of the better burgers I’ve had in a while. The kool aid pickles were perfect, a little pop of contrast and respite in an almost overwhelming savory pile. The burgers worked but like with the Jojos, unless your goal is to serve the BEST burger and fries that has ever collapsed American arteries OR unless your goal is to radically reinterpret the two into something memorable and unique, there’s not much to be done and here not much was. Good, safe choice.

8th and 9th courses: Sarsaparilla pork belly and burnt carrots. Similar vibes here to the last course but better executed. Pork belly had a MOMENT like 5, 6 years ago, in the way that burgers had a MOMENT 10 or so years ago. This is not me calling the menu dated or boring, just commenting on the fact that the two most traditional entree courses feature proteins and sides that are neither as creatively rich nor as classically exceptional as some of the earlier courses. In Cordelia’s defense, we were visibly bloated and struggling at this point so that could def impact my interest in the last couple of courses but both the carrots- served with a pistachio sauce and onion/tangerine- and the pork belly-which had a lovely caramelization- are well executed and tasty, but less exciting to me than some of the previous dishes.

Dessert course: Honeycomb hazelnut ice cream and a chocolate ganache brownie. I’m recreating this dessert best I can as I was basically catatonic at this point in the progression, but I remember thinking that I really enjoyed the honeycomb ice cream (real honeycomb adds amazing texture!) and the brownie was rich without being overpowering. However, I didn’t really see a REASON why they would be placed together save needed to stretch out a dessert course with incongruent choices. Both elements were good but the ice cream begged for something with a little acid or spice and the brownie needed some fruit or something similar to cut the richness.

Cordelia: 4 out of 5 forks. The space is gorgeous; the wallpaper looks like painted silk, which it probably is. There are inviting and warm elements throughout the space, and they pride themselves of their accessibility. They also validate valet parking for east 4th street, which was a cute lil surprise at the end of the meal.

Service was attentive and consistent, if a bit forced at times. Cordelia utilizes an all-hands model which ensures that all staff is able to present courses and offer support and recommendations throughout the meal.

The food is the only space where I have anything to quibble with. Like many new restaurants-particularly buzzy ones- Cordelia is still wrestling with what it wants to be. Does it want to serve nostalgia-tinged whimsy through creative applications? Does it want to fall into the New Southern wave that’s proven successful in the last decade? Does it just want to do ingredient-focused farm to table, locavore stuff really well? I will concede that there were several dishes on the standard menu that looked much more appealing and genuinely interesting than what we had on the chefs tasting, but thems the breaks. On a chefs tasting, you get what the chef wants you to try, especially at 8 pm on a winter Tuesday. The high points for me were the small moments of wonder and delight in viewing food through a lens of meandering interpretation, not rote execution. Cordelia is definitely worth trying (and please try more of the breads and veggies, they look luscious!) but what’s holding this new hometown favorite back is a dedication to loosening the reins and letting go of the railing.

[souichioneshots]

Grim Reaper 【Souichi x Reader】 (Fluff)

Souichi claims he's been cursed. Now everything he touches dies! However, that doesn't stop him from spending time with you. Can you hold back from touching the boy and dying? Let's find out~~~!! ahahaha

(I think this counts as affectionate!reader but idk lol)

Souichi carefully held onto the drink in his hand as he sat back down in between your legs.

Resting his body against your soft chest, you wrapped your arms around his waist. He was completely engulfed by your love. Although he was a bit embarrassed at first by how affectionate you could be, it had become a habit for him to want to be so close to you all the time.

【And now back to ‘DEATH’S ASSISTANT’】

Souichi took a sip of his drink as the show you two had been hooked on recently started back up.

It was a Japanese drama about a Grim Reaper who had been assigned a foreign assistant. Apparently, they fell for one another as soon as their eyes met. Every day they tell each other how much they love one another, but because of Death’s curse, he is unable to touch his love. The show depicts their everyday work lives. Showing how far they would go for one another to prove their love, but never being able to be truly affectionate. Souichi wasn’t really into these types of lovey-dovey dramas, but the supernatural antics that it included drew him in deeper and deeper.

【Assistant, we cant! You know if we touch, you’ll die!】

【I would risk dying a million times just to feel your lips pressed against mine even just once, Death~.】

“Guuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!”

Souichi laughed as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. The scene was so cheesy and overdone, but you loved it. For a morbid girl, you really were a sucker for love stories.

“You’re gonna miss the show if you don’t look up.” Souichi chuckle and patted your head.

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you continued to watch the last few minutes left of the drama.

“Death really outdid it with his outfit today, huh?” Souichi commented.

In today’s episode, Death had been wearing a bright red suit with a black suit-shirt instead of his usual black suit and black tie.

“I think it really suits him.”

“You think everything suits him.”

“Of course. If you’re handsome, then anything and everything looks good on you.”

Souichi lifted his shoulder up towards his head, squishing your face against him.

“Owwww Owowowow!!”

“What’s so handsome about that old actor?”

Souichi finally released the pressure, allowing you to relax.

Pulling your head away from his body, you rubbed your cheeks.

“Hmm…Well, for one his eyes are absolutely beautiful. Thin, sharp, and the dark circles around them make him look so mysterious. And his dark, wavy hair looks so soft! I just want to run my hands through it as mess it up even more.”

Souichi couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you described what you found attractive about the ‘dreamy man’ on the television. He honestly felt like you were just describing him. He knew you must have a type, but he didn’t think it would be this similar to him every time. You must have felt like you won the jackpot with him.

“But what I really like is the fact that he’s always wearing a suit.” Wrapping your arms back around his waist, you squeezed him a bit “You can tell his assistant also thinks the same thing because she's always staring at him. She just wants to touch him soooo much. But she knows she'll die if she does! Haa~~ I love it!”

Souichi hummed in amusement as he listened to you speak.

Seeing that he fit all the other conditions you looked for in a guy, Souichi thought of a perfect way he could use this little fantasy you love so much for his amusement.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

When the next night came, Souichi quickly got to preparing himself. He had asked if he could go over to watch a movie tonight.

He usually didn’t pay much attention to what he wore whenever he hung out alone with you. But tonight, he decided to mix things up a bit.

Making sure he had everything he needed in his pockets, Souichi set off to your house.

Creepily excited laughter slipped from the boy’s lips as he walked down the street by himself. He couldn’t wait to see your reaction when you laid your eyes upon him.

Finally reaching your front door, he knocked.

“Good evening~” Souichi greeted as you opened the door.

Before you could greet the boy back, you froze. Your mouth gaped open and your eyes widened as you looked upon your boyfriend.

“S…SS..S-Suit..Suitsuitsuit…” You brought your hands up to your face, unsure where to place them. This was the first time you had ever seen him wearing such an outfit before.

Finally bringing your hands out towards Souichi, you tried to touch him.

“Ah!” Souichi quickly jumped back. “You can’t.”

A look of worry and confusion grew on your face as the boy rejected your touch.

“Remember when I called you this morning and said I might have messed up a curse?”

You shook your head yes.

“Well, it turns out that as a side effect, whatever I touch now dies almost immediately.”

Leaning against the doorframe, you looked at the boy with a smile of disbelief.

“You’re just copying ‘Death’s Assistant’ aren’t you.”

Souichi hated how well you could read him. But that didn’t mean he was going to admit that you were right. At least not right now.

“No! I swear.” Sliding one hand into his suit pocket, he leaned down onto the grass that covered your front yard. “Every time I touch something as delicate as a flower…” Pulling out his hand from his pocket, he placed it over a daisy that had been growing for some time. “Well... This happens.” Moving back up, Souichi revealed that the flower he touched had shriveled up and died.

“No way…” You whispered as he allowed the dead flower to trickle onto the palm on your hands.

“Yeah…It’s a bummer.” Placing his foot over the real flower still planted in the ground, he tried to hide the evidence. “But I’m sure this curse will wear off by next week. 2 weeks at most.”

You quickly moved to the side as Souichi let himself into your home.

“What are you doing? Wouldn’t it be dangerous for us to be together right now?”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. As long as we don’t touch that is.” Giving you a smile, Souichi kicked off his shoes and made his way down to your bedroom.

As the raven-haired boy walked down the hall, he moved his hands close to the wall, just barely coming into contact with the wallpaper. He honestly thought it would be really cool if he could make the wallpaper roll up and crumble into pieces just from touching it. Just like in the drama. Perhaps there really was a curse out there that would give him that ability.

Finally reaching your room, he took ahold of the door handle and gestured for you to go in first. Being in a suit really did make him feel like more of a gentleman. It was kind of fun.

Sitting on your bed, Souichi watched as you set up the DVD player.

He tried to hold back his foolish laughter as he thought about how miserable you were going to be all night from not being able to touch him.

You. The girl who could barely go 5 minutes without at least leaning against his shoulder, was now being forced to keep her hands to herself in order to avoid never waking up again.

This was gonna be hilarious.

“So, lemme ask you.” You pulled the boy out of his own little world as you sat on the bed with him. “Why the suit?”

“The suit? Oh. Umm…” Souichi’s mind froze for a second. He was going to say an excuse that all his other clothes suddenly turn to dust when he touched them, but now that sounded extremely stupid and unbelievable. Especially since he was able to touch your bedsheets with no problem. “…To match the whole ‘death’ theme...”

“Oh~ That makes sense. Always gotta be prepared for a funeral when everything you touch dies, right?”

“Exactly!”

Souichi let out a small sigh of relief as you commented an equally believable reason for the suit. He was glad you were almost always on the same level as him.

Finally dropping the subject, you pressed the button on the remote for the movie to play.

Souichi tapped his finger against the bed in annoyance as you kept a good amount of distance from him. It didn’t seem like you would try to touch him any time soon.

Looks like he needed to take things up a notch if he wanted to have some real fun.

Leaning forward, he swiftly took off his black jacket. You quickly ducked as his hand almost came in contact with your head.

Leaning his arm on your pillow, he relaxed his body. A single nail stayed poking out from between his lips, making it look like he was smoking.

Souichi couldn't help but smile as he saw you take quick glances at him. Your eyes kept moving from his pants to his white suit shirt, and finally to his face. He could see a blush spread across your cheeks as you quickly turned away from him, avoiding his gaze. You looked completely head over heels for him.

Sliding to the side, you leaned ever so close to the boy.

“Does the ‘being killed on the spot’ rule apply even over clothes~?” A blush spread across his pale face as you whispered in his ear, making sure not to come into direct contact with his shoulder. He could see your hand hovering over his suit pants, craving to touch the expensive-looking material.

Did you really not believe him or were you just begging to die?

Moving a bit away from you, he replied. “Probably not a good idea. Haven’t tested that out yet…” He let out a little laugh as he mentioned how awkward it would be for him to have to wake up your family and tell them that he killed you by accident.

Souichi looked from the corner of his eyes as you let out a small sigh and moved back into your own little space. This sudden rule of no touching looked like it was taking a toll on you.

Honestly, he was expecting you to be a bit more excited by this situation. After all, this was one of your favorite fantasies. To love one another, but never be able to touch unless you were willing to die on the spot. You should be spewing cheesy lines like in the drama, not sulking.

Moving the nails against his teeth, he tried to think of a way to fix things. After all, this wouldn’t be fun if you got too sad and decided to stop acting like your usual self halfway through the night.

Moving his arm out towards you, he pulled on the edge of his suit jacket.

“I think it’d be fine if you held onto this though…” He turned his face to the side, trying to hide his blush as you smiled once again.

Throughout the movie, Souichi kept his arm up in the air as you happily held onto his jacket. His body felt oddly unsatisfied from not being properly touched by you. But, this was his own fault for deciding to go through with such a cold prank.

You both stayed surprisingly calm and silent as the movie played on.

Souichi kept the nails in his mouth pressed tightly against his teeth as he kept his eyes on the screen. The movie you chose wasn’t half bad at all. The effects, the props, the acting. All very realistic. To be expected from new foreign movies.

However, this feeling of calmness didn’t last long as an unnecessarily long make-out scene between the main characters had started up again. Another specialty of foreign horror movies. The acting for these scenes just had to be extremely believable as well…

Souichi tensed up a bit as he felt you let go of his jacket, finally allowing him to rest his hand back down near his body.

It wasn’t that he disliked these types of scenes. But something about watching them alone with you always made him feel a bit restless.

Souichi moved his legs closer to his body, trying to get in a more comfortable position. He really regretted starting this whole ‘touch me and you’ll die’ prank now.

Pulling on the black-tie wrapped around his neck, he tried to calm himself down.

“People get really horny right before they die, huh?…”

Souichi noticed you jolt a bit at the sound of his voice. All he got in response from you was a little ‘yeah’ and an awkward laugh.

As the teens on the screen started to undress, Souichi noticed you also start to fidget around in your spot. You looked like you wanted to sit closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t.

Shakily bringing your hand over his leg again, you whispered. “Are you sure I’ll die if I touch you over your clothes?...”

This time he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just moved his leg closer to you, giving you an okay to try and touch him.

He watched as you cautiously placed the tips of your fingers on his knee. You let out a sigh of relief as you realized you were going to die from touching him over his clothes.

Careful not to accidentally touch any part of his body not covered by his clothes, you turned towards his.

Pinching the fabric of his suit jacket, you pulled his hand up. Souichi’s heartbeat sped up as you moved his bare hand to touch your clothed breast.

“Looks like it works both ways. As long as your skin doesn’t come into direct contact with mine, I’ll be just fine.”

Souichi’s eyes followed your hands as they moved back towards his pants once more.

You were really pushing the envelope.

But, if you were gonna play like that, then he saw no harm in playing along as well.

Sliding his hand down from your chest to your waist, he pulled you to come closer to him.

“That means we can’t do anything more than this though…” Souichi whisper as he inched his face closer to yours. “We should stop now before we do something that can’t be undone.” He teased you with lies, practically ordering you to go further.

“You don’t wanna die from one of my curses, do you?”

“It’d be a blessing to die from one of your curses…”

Something within Souichi switched on as he heard you whisper your confession to him. That felt like the most romantic thing you'd ever said to him.

Without saying another word, Souichi pressed his lips against yours. To think he was the one who ended up not being able to hold back from you this time.

Suddenly, pressing your hands against his shoulder, you pushed yourself away from the kiss.

“Agk! My heart!” Holding your hand against your chest, you threw yourself back to lay on the bed. “I…I!!! Gah…”

Souichi couldn’t help but laugh as you pretended to die in an over-exaggerated manner.

You opened one of your eyes, looked at the boy, and then closed it again. Souichi could see you trying your best to hold back a smile as you laid perfectly still.

“You knew I wasn’t cursed the entire time, didn’t you?”

“...Was it that obvious?” You laughed a bit as you finally sat back up.

“When did you figure out I was lying?”

“Hmm~”

You just hummed and swayed your head side to side. Not telling him when you knew for a fact he was not actually cursed.

“If I can be honest, you should have said something more believable for the suit. Then maybe I would have believed you completely." Leaning up against the boy you thought for a second. "Like umm... All your other clothes disintegrated the second you touched them. But because you've worn this suit to a funeral before, it was the only thing that stayed intact."

"Ahh!! I swear I was gonna say that!!"

You let out a hum and looked at the boy once again with a smile of disbelief.

"I swear!"

Getting up from the bed, he put on his suit jacket again.

"Let's restart." He sat back down on the edge of your bed. "Ask me why I'm wearing a suit."

"Okay." You also moved to sit on the edge, next to him. "Hey, Souichi. Why are you--" Unconsciously, your hand brushed up against his. "AGK!" You threw your body back and pretended to die again.

"No!! Y/N!!" He picked you up by your shoulders and forced you to sit back up. "Again."

As his hands moved away from your shoulders, he accidentally touched your neck. Making you jump back again.

"Agggkk!!"

"Stop dying!!" He yelled as you held your hand up to your neck and pretended to choke and die.

Souichi let out a loud groan as you continued to laugh at his frustrated expression.

This prank wasn't as funny as he thought it would be.

[the-only-ace]

Hey I know you are really busy with all the request and job and all that but can you do shinee's reaction to s/o stealing their t-shirts and hoodies?? You can make them one shots of you want too😁

shinee reacts: their s/o wearing their clothes

heyyy~ i really liked this request because i personally love to do this. for this request, i want to try something new since you gave me an idea with the one-shots part. so instead of describing their reactions, i'll convey it in a form of a short story. it will still be per member! i hope you will like this one (heads up though, the posts is a bit longer than my usual shinee reacts) <3

p.s. if you guys can, kindly let me know if you like this kind of format for shinee reacts. thank you!

send in your requests here!

onew / jinki: you sighed for the nth time within just 10 short minutes. you were staring and pouting in front of your closet for you can't find the perfect clothes for your brunch date with onew. it was a hot day today and you just wanted to wear something cute but comfortable. however, it seems like your wardrobe doesn't offer that kind of outfit.

your eyes slowly traveled toward onew's part of the closet. his side was full of quirky graphic tees which you always find adorable. you don't usually borrow his clothes but you can't help but to take a peek at them and take the one that caught your eyes.

it was a white oversized shirt with a cute box cartoon drawn in front of it. you tried it on and it stopped perfectly on your thighs, making it look like a cute dress. surprisingly, it even matches the pair of sneakers you were wearing.

before you can even decide whether you were keeping it on or not, onew walked into your room. his hair a bit damp and he was only wearing a towel considering that he just took a shower.

"oh, is that my shirt?" he pointed at you.

"uh... yeah. do you mind? i just wanted to wear something that is yours." you sheepishly replied.

"no problem!" he beamed his big bright smile before proceeding to get his own outfit.

you muttered a thank you then went to your vanity to finish touching up your makeup. afterward, you grabbed your phone and wallet and placed them inside your shoulder bag.

"alright, I'm ready to go..." you trailed off as you saw what he looked like. "what the hell are you wearing, lee jinki?"

"your shirt?" he raised an eyebrow, clearly feigning ignorance.

he was wearing your favorite grey t-shirt and it looked pitiful on him, it was as if it can tear at any moment. it barely covered his abdomen and was stretched to its limit.

"no shit, sherlock." you facepalmed at his usual weirdness. "what i want to know is why... why are you wearing it?"

"i thought we were doing a thing wherein we wear each other's clothes." he shrugged as if his response should be expected.

"what? no! please have mercy on my shirt and put on your own clothes." you can't help but laugh at him as you pushed him back to the dresser.

"alright, alright! i just wanted to make you laugh and look, it worked perfectly." he playfully pinched the tip of your nose before taking off the top he borrowed. "also, you should keep that shirt since it looks a hundred--no, million--times better on you."

"thanks, love," you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a warm hug.

key / kibum:

after the long busy months, you were finally having a girl's night with your best friends. you stood in front of the full-length mirror in your room to give yourself a final check. your hair was styled into textured waves and your lips were colored with the boldest red lipstick you can find. your nude heels matched the little black dress you were wearing. your outfit looked almost perfect and you just knew what you were missing. you quickly snatched key's gold leather jacket and put it on. ah, perfection.

this was the norm for you. your boyfriend's wardrobe was beyond incredible especially his outerwear collection and you just had to wear them every chance you can get. to be honest, key was very stubborn in letting you borrow his clothes... at first. after all the compromising, begging, and crying you made, he eventually budged and gave up. of course, it does not come for free. he practically made you sign a contract that once you stained his clothes, you have to shoulder the bill of the laundry and the shop will be chosen by him. however, if you damaged or god forbid, lost his clothes, you have to replace them. you immediately said yes to all of the conditions in a heartbeat. so far you only paid for 2 incredulously expensive laundry bills.

now, you were finally ready to leave. you walked out of the bedroom and made your way down the living room. there, key was sitting on the couch watching one of his favorite tv series.

"I'll be going out now," you announced as you grab your car keys near the front door.

"hey, hey, hey!" key clicked his tongue upon seeing your clothes. he was now looking behind his shoulder and giving you a stink eye. "is that my jacket?"

"um... maybe?" you gave him an awkward smile.

"of course, it's mine." he shook his head disapprovingly. "only i can pull that off, by the way." he sassily added.

"wow, i didn't know the fashion police was here. you should have given me a head's up, babe ." you bit back with a scoff. the last time you checked, you looked damn fine in it.

"just stating facts, baby," he replied in english.

"alright, then why don't you take me shopping then? so you can buy me a new set of clothes that will satisfy your standards." you challenged and if he said yes, you were clearly the winner.

"excuse me, i do call you 'baby' but i am not your sugar daddy. go now, you'll be late." he shooed you off.

"okay bye," a playful smirk appeared on your face. "daddy."

this made key rolled his eyes before turning his back on you. he would very much rather ignore you if you keep on acting that way.

"it's bye now, for real." you giggled as you open the door. "love you!" you called out before stepping out.

"love you too, brat." key mumbled with a small smile.

minho:

winter was approaching and the air was slowly becoming colder than usual. it was the best time to stay in the comfort of your warm home and enjoy hot cocoa with your loved ones. a perfect time to wear your sweaters and hoodies indoors. however, this was not the case for minho for his favorite hoodie was missing.

"hey, babe?" he called out from the bedroom. "have you seen my black hoodie? the one with the white writings on it."

"what's that, i didn't hear you?" you went inside a few seconds later.

and there it was, his favorite hoodie being worn by his favorite person. you looked smaller while wearing it since it was way too big for you. the hem almost touched your knees and your whole arms were lost inside the sleeves. he can't help but smile at the sight.

"nothing, i was just looking for my hoodie but it looks like i found it." he gestured at the clothes you were wearing.

"oh, shoot. sorry, i didn't tell you that i borrowed it." you hit your forehead with your palm.

"it's okay. you're free to use them anytime, anyway." he patted the top of your head.

within the last few weeks, minho noticed that you sometimes wear his clothes. it was not a daily thing though and you even asked for his permission. slowly, it became every day and he would just be surprised to see you walking around the house parading his jackets and sweaters. he didn't mind it though, he was just curious about what you do to your own clothing. also, he hoped that he still had some remaining tops for himself during the cold season.

well, guess luck was not on his side.

his eyes were staring at his closet wherein there was only one jacket left, one. you followed his gaze and you promptly felt the warmth raised to your cheeks. you were surely red from embarrassment now. you were happily wearing his clothes that you didn't have the time to count how much was left.

"oh my god, i'm sorry! i didn't--" you cut yourself off as you watched him put on the lone jacket from his dresser. "i'm sorry, i didn't notice it. i just... can't help myself. your jackets are so comfortable and warm compare to mine." you tried to explain yourself. also not to mention that they all smelled just like him.

"don't worry about it." he reassured you as he placed his arm around your shoulder. "just be mindful next time. i might end up half-naked someday, you know."

"how can you be so sure that's not my goal?" you teased before sticking your tongue out.

he laughed at your silliness and then pressed a soft kiss on your warm forehead. you decided to make a cup of hot cocoa for him as a peace offering.

taemin:

it was past midnight and it was raining cats and dogs outside. you visited taemin in his apartment for a stay-at-home dinner date but a storm came before you can even go back home. taemin then convinced you to spend the night there instead. it was not a big deal anyway since you stayed over a lot of times already. you just didn't bring your sleepover bag with you and the dress you were wearing was definitely not comfortable to sleep on.

your caring boyfriend of course promised to ease your worries. the two of you shared a warm bath after dinner and he lent you his clothes for you to change to. so that was how you ended up on his couch, fighting off sleep because the show you both were watching always had a cliffhanger ending per episode. you two needed some answers before you can drift off to sleep peacefully. it was the weekend tomorrow anyway so staying up late won't hurt that much.

your head was laying on his lap while his right hand was playing on the locks of your hair and his left one was comfortably resting on the top of your hip. his hand would occasionally rub circles on the exposed skin. as much as you hate to move from your cozy spot, you had to or else you might end up dozing off right there and then. not to mention, him playing on your hair does not help at all.

you slowly got up from the sofa as you tried to stifled a yawn. "i'll just go get some cold drink." you pushed yourself up from your seat.

you then raised your arms and stretched with a satisfied groan. your shoulders and back were sore after laying down for more or less 3 hours. you can even hear your joints cracking from stretching out. also, you felt the shirt you were wearing raised up.

taemin's shirts were not overly huge for you whenever you wore them. the hem barely covered your behind and right now you were sure that a tiny portion of your buttcheeks was peeking through the white tee. you weren't conscious about it, taemin saw much more than that anyway.

suddenly, you felt a slap across your behind which made you freeze on your spot. you looked behind and saw your boyfriend confidently leaning on the couch with his legs crossed.

"did you just slap my butt?" you inquired.

"uh-huh," he nodded with a cocky grin. "want me to spank you again?"

you frowned a little as you processed the sudden change of mood. taemin won't deny it though, seeing you in his shirts always made his heart skip a bit and his breathing ragged. you always looked effortlessly sexy in them.

"sure, why not?" you replied wickedly after a few seconds of silence.

taemin processed your answer in a split second and he hastily grabbed you by the waist and threw you on his broad shoulders. he did not forget you give you another smack on the ass when he made his way toward the bedroom, the television was completely forgotten.

[appleciders]

Rachel + Leah + Water, the Director’s Cut!

Okay, so I made this gifset exploring Rachel and Leah and the ocean, but because there’s a ten gif limit and a major point of gifsets is for them to look nice, I had to sacrifice a lot of the behind the scenes thoughts and initial versions that came along the way. I still wanted to talk about them though, because I found a lot of them really cool, so I figured I’d stick all that in this post. It’s gonna get long, so you can find the rest under the cut!

So first up, we have Leah as we first see her in the water. (I’m using shitty screenshots because tumblr has a 2mb limit for gifs on text posts and I don’t feel like compressing these down lmao.) Here, she’s face-down, unconscious, floating on a fragment of the plane. This is the first time we see any of the girls in the water.

As Leah gives her dramatic speech talks to the detectives, we see flashbacks to the girl’s lives pre-island. There we see that one of them already has a very strong relationship with the water already, in her before-life: Rachel.

Rachel, as we know, is a diver. We see her take a magnificent tumble into the pool, but when she surfaces, her coach is sternly head-shaking. She corrects Rachel’s form, and after she walks away, Rachel echoes the correction, clearly frustrated with herself. 

Back to Leah. We next see Leah waking up on her lil chunk of flotsam. When she realizes what the hell’s going on, she does what we all would do and starts screaming in terror.

Her panic gets interrupted by Jeannette’s classic Raise Your Glass ringtone. (This was my alarm for two years in high school, and when I watched this for the first time I did have an out-of-body experience). She swims her way over to the Hello Kitty suitcase and—irrationally—unzips it, but we’ll cut her some slack because she’s in some serious shock. As she tries to get the phone, it slips through her fingers and starts spiraling down to the bottom of the ocean. She dives after it.

Unfortunately, she quickly runs out of air and has to give up. She then spots Jeannette floating nearby, checks her out, judges her to be “just a little roughed up,” and then sees land and has a big oh-thank-fuck moment. Because we saw Gretchen’s team placing all of the girls, we know that Linh and Leah were the only two that were put out in the open water. The other girls were put in the beach, or, in Martha’s case, near the shore. This was probably done to quell some of Leah’s suspicions about the crash, but it does give me a couple questions about how they got the other girls wet—did they hose them all down? Pour a couple buckets over their heads? Bob each of them up and down a couple times in a big net like fries in a fryer?? 

Anyway, not important. 

Next that we see, Leah has pulled Jeannette/Linh in from the water. (My Australian parents, who can never pass up an opportunity to give ocean safety tips, chimed in at this point in our first watch to say “See how she’s doing it! You always want to hold someone from behind and pull them in that way. Good job, well done.” So there’s some approval for you, Leah.) As Leah nears the shore, Dot and Toni come tearing in and they help pull the two of them out. 

The rest of the episode after that really only concerns fresh water—Toni and Shelby set out in search of it, to no avail, and Nora helpfully plugs Diet Coke reminds us multiple times that sugar’s heavier than water, so “sugar sinks.” We do set up a goal for the next couple episodes, though: Rachel says, “I'm gonna swim out to the plane tomorrow. See if I can find anything,” and Leah volunteers to come with. Rachel gives her a nod of respect.

Moving on to episode two, we have Rachel and Leah’s (iconic) first real conversation. Rachel says she’s still going out to the wreckage. Leah looks out and looks back at her, incredulous, and says, “Rachel, the water’s insane.” Here’s a big recurring association—the water and “insanity.” (I use insanity here because that’s the language they use, along with psycho/crazy. In no way does that reflect my actual beliefs about their behavior nor am I condoning the way they use those words.) Leah points out the rip current (“well done,” said my mum), and explains her very brief stint as a norcal surfer. Rachel still looks set on going, but then Leah says:

Turns out, Leah can be as ripe with foreshadowing as Fatin. This marks the appearance of their second main association with the ocean—death. After she says this, Leah turns Rachel’s attention inland, and the two agree to climb a big hill to scope out their situation.

Episode two is also obviously Rachel’s episode, so we see a lot of her relationship with diving. 

We see her plunge over and over and over again, drilling technique and form, but despite all her hard work, we learn her coach advised her to quit the team. Instead, Rachel throws herself in twice as hard, and ends up with an eating disorder. By the time the nationals come around, she’s too physically weak to dive safely, and she ends up hitting her head as she goes down. She surfaces in the pool with blood flowing around her.

She refuses to see that as the end of her diving career. She says she’s gonna “get back out there” and “be fucking great again” and she tells Nora at the end of the episode that she needs her to let her believe that.

In episode three, we finally see Leah and Rachel’s trip out to the plane! Nora comes along with them, her relationship with Rachel smoothed over after the events of ep two. “Nora’s a good swimmer,” Rachel explains as she invites her, “We were both water babies.” Water’s clearly been central to Nora and Rachel’s identities since they were really young. 

The three of them make their escape from the rest of the girls as the topic of building a shelter comes up. “Not interested in putting down roots!” Rachel calls. In keeping with the elements theme, Rachel isn’t looking to be grounded. She climbs super high into the air and she dives deep into the water, but earth isn’t her thing. (See: the quicksand scene. Whoops.)

Anyway, the three of them paddle out into the water. Rachel dives down, scopes out the plane, tells Nora she doesn’t expect her to “fucking free dive in open water,” and then looks to Leah and asks if she’s ready. Leah reluctantly agrees. 

We get our first shot Rachel swimming down into the ocean and our second shot of Leah (first the phone, second the plane). In the wreckage of the plane, they discover the black box, affixed to the wall. They keep trying to wrench it free, but it’s stuck, and Leah—who’s primary activity is, like, reading—keeps having to surface for air. Rachel gets frustrated and grabs her leg, holding her down. 

Leah screams and fights, but Rachel doesn’t let go. We cut away, and when we see them again, they’ve emerged victorious (Rachel) and drowned as dogs after a bath (Leah and Nora) with the black box in hand. Later, Leah mutters the above line to Fatin, calling Rachel a “psychopath.” For those keeping score at home, here’s where we refer back to the association between water and “insanity.”

In episode four, the ocean benevolently bestows a bag of takis upon Nora, and we have our whole shelter-building shebang. It’s all very land-based until Leah and Fatin go head to head, which ends with Fatin smearing her blood all over Leah’s face. Leah, with her usual flair, strips off her clothes as she walks into the ocean. She stays down there, passively letting the water wash the blood from her face.

This shot parallels a couple things. First, the drifting blood visually parallels Rachel in the pool after her diving injury. Second, we have Rachel staring out at the water where Leah’s disappeared and going, “Man, that is some real Virginia Woolf-type shit.” Dot has no fucking clue what she means, so Fatin interprets: “It means that bitch is crazy. She said you were the psychopath of the group.” Now it’s Leah who’s done something in the water that’s been deemed insane. The water and “insanity;” the water and accusations of insanity within their relationship. 

Those accusations pop up in episode five, but the episode is pretty focused on the inland search for Fatin, and revolves around fresh water, not salt water. (That could be a whole nother post lol.) It’s in episode six where we again see these two return to the ocean. 

Rachel is diving in the ocean! For fun! She’s picking up pretty shells (which granted isn’t the safest thing to do in the pacific, cone snails are not our friends), and she’s grinning, and she’s generally enjoying herself. With the, uh, finale situation, we’re probably not gonna get to see her smile for a bit, which is sad, because she should get to do this more often! This shot visually echoes her diving for the plane and Leah diving for the phone, except she can be in a better mood because there is no end goal. 

So she goes diving, ends up finding a bunch of mussels, gathers ‘em up, and brings ‘em back to camp. They all chow down, but wind up with serious food poisoning. Martha and Toni ring death’s doorbell a couple of times. Rachel blames herself—she’s the one that went swimming out there, she brought the mussels back. Again, we see that connection between the ocean and death.

And that association comes back bright an early in ep seven! The tide surges higher than they’ve ever seen, taking down their shelter and leaving them all scrambling. 

While Leah convinces Fatin that her life is more important than her suitcase, Rachel is left with a decision: help Nora, screaming to her from where she’s clinging to a rock for dear life, or grab the black box. In a move that contrasts Toni’s immediate and unquestioning aid of Martha, Rachel picks the black box. 

After, when they’re debriefing, Nora’s quick to bring it up. She doesn’t hide her hurt. “It happened so fast,” she says, “we all acted irrationally. Like Fatin, who jumped into a rip current to save her toothbrush. Or Rachel, who left me for fucking dead.” I think this counts as a double whammy for the “insanity” and death count—I think “acted irrationally” is as close as Nora gets to calling anyone crazy, and is honestly a better descriptor of all the other instances of “insanity” that we’ve seen, and the ocean was the source of the very real risk to Nora’s life. 

(Honestly, I think Rachel thought she was making a rational choice here—just with some grim fucking calculus. Still, given that nobody’d responded to the black box by then, I think it was a decision fueled by the need to keep hold of hope more than actual rationality.) In a fun contrast to the rest of the episode, it’s Leah that keeps a level head in this situation. 

The rest of the episode is low on water scenes, though Leah’s paranoia about Shelby is fueled by her sneaking off to the water, which could fall under the “insanity” category. It also marks where Nora begins to take an active role in breaking apart Rachel’s fantasy about diving again. 

Ep eight has one of the best montages in a series of great montages, with the playing in the water scene! A plane has seen them, they’re gonna be saved, and they all get to get high and act like kids. 

I have this lingering and probably irrational concern that the entire water play scene is choreographed and that it’s chock-full of foreshadowing. Like I know to some extent they likely were just like “yeah guys go goof off in the water,” but like...the wave pulling Rachel and Nora apart here...I mean.... (Rachel is probably gonna get more blood on Dot in the near future, too. ) That aside, their horseplay gets interrupted when Leah notices some blood on Dot, which Rachel realizes is her own period blood.  

Fatin then chimes in with her ever-gleeful foreshadowing: “Shark week for Rachel.” So while this whole encounter with the water actually seems mostly good for a change, it’s colored by the tie-in to what we know is coming.

In ep nine, reality has set in that rescue isn’t imminent. Everyone’s starving, Leah has started to spiral, and Rachel’s unusually skittish. By the tide’s edge, Nora asks for her help fishing, but Rachel refuses, saying that she’s weak. Nora flicks water at her, and Rachel flinches, clearly scared.

Starvation seems to have triggered Rachel’s trauma around the water leftover from her diving accident. In response, Nora reaches out a hand and says, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Meanwhile, Leah’s spiral has reached critical. She starts ranting about the ocean and the water and pushes past Dot, sprinting into the waves:

And so she’s taken to heart the way they think Jeannette’s body “escaped” the island—the tide—and it’s been spun like cotton candy in her head. She’s right, technically—Jeanette/Linh’s body was moved off the island by boat, and there’s definitely an argument that if they really did all swim out Gretchen’s team would save them, or at least try to. This is also a very real suicide attempt. So it’s kind of a culmination of the threats of death and mental health issues that’ve been wrapped up in the ocean since the start.

On Rachel’s end, Nora has taken her up to a cliff. Rachel calls the whole thing “borderline insane,” walking up when they’re so low on energy, but Nora tells her she needs to make a truce between herself and the water. 

“You’re afraid of it now,” she says, and Rachel replies that, “All it ever did was make me sick.” Nora immediately surges forward to say “That’s not true!” Rachel, incredulous, says, “Isn't this what you want? For me to hang it up? For me to forget the whole fucking diving game?” Nora says, “No. I don't know. I don't want you to forget you.” She then tells Rachel she should dive off the end of the cliff, that she marked it to make sure it’s safe. Rachel says she can’t.

There’s a lot here. First, there’s the first time we’ve seen of Rachel explicitly call herself sick. In episode two, even in a treatment center, she still denies it, says she’s just an athlete who knows what it takes. But now she’s reached a place where she acknowledges her eating disorder—and also probably her recent illness with the mussels—and ties it directly to the water. It’s the reason she’s sick.

Nora’s fear that Rachel will forget herself also just hammers home how central the water has always been to Rachel’s identity. Cutting herself off from the water would be cutting off a core part of herself. (...whoops) And we’ve seen that it does bring her actual joy, when she’s allowed to relax with it, but she’s had such traumatic associations rolled up into it now. Nora doesn’t want Rachel to do diving as a sport anymore, because of how badly it’s hurt her, but she does want Rachel to keep diving and swimming as like, a form of unevaluated personal expression.

At the moment that Rachel’s refusing to jump, she and Nora hear shouts from the mainland. They see Fatin and Dot screaming after Leah. Confused, Nora asks, “Where is she going?” but Rachel understands immediately, with absolute certainty, without needing to be told—“To fucking drown to death.” Seven episodes after Leah called heading into the water a death wish, she’s finally proving it true. Rachel squares her shoulders, takes a few deep breaths, and sprints into a dive. 

Unlike all her other dives high altitude dives we’ve seen her do, this dive isn’t qualified based on aesthetics. This dive matters because of what it will do, not on how it looks. And what it does do is bring her into the ocean, where she needs to be for her friend. So with strong strokes, she swims out towards Leah.

When she reaches her, she takes hold of her, pulls her into her chest from behind. She begins to swim with her back to shore. This rescue directly parallels Leah’s rescue of Linh that we talked about above. It also, as the Out in the Wilds podcast insightfully pointed out, really calls Rachel and Leah’s relationship back to the beginning. Whereas Rachel had initially held Leah down in the water, putting her in danger of drowning, Rachel here pulls her out of the water, saving her from drowning. Together, they make it all the way back to the shore.

Finally (and, like, if you’ve made it all the way down here? bless you. thank you), we have episode ten. The ocean doesn’t really figure into episode ten until the very end. Rachel has had a long episode of healing—she’s happy to be full and she’s in a good place with her sister and things seem to be going pretty okay. She decides to heal her relationship with the water, too. She heads out, telling Nora that she’s “Just gonna float, Nor. Just float.”

Just floating. After all the times we saw her plunging into the water, purposefully, with frustration, with drive, with so much to prove and with so much sacrifice and self-abuse to prove it with, Rachel finally just wants to float. She wants to let herself relax. She wants to let the water carry her.

Of course, that means there has to be, like, a massive marine carnivore waiting to mistake her for a seal.

Visually, this shot really parallels the opening shot of Leah on the fragment of plane. Instead of being face-down, though, she’s face-up, and she’s conscious, just not of the threat from below. 

The shark bites.

In a horrible parallel to Leah’s Virginia Woolf moment and Rachel’s diving accident, we see blood pool in the water. Rachel is pulled under. The girls on the land start screaming and running toward her. We know Rachel doesn’t die, but this is still a near-death experience, one that probably cost her her arm. Leah, covered in dirt and her own blood after crawling out of the pit Nora led her into, can only stand and watch, shocked and horrified.

So that got! Way longer than I meant it to! And honestly most of this was condensed into very concise tags in a post I made a few days ago! But if you made it all the way down here, you’ve now seen everything I wanted to fit into that gifset but couldn’t. Thanks for sticking with me, friend <3

[oftenderweapons]

Mold Me New (5) — Kim Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons Story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Smut, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog gets to see the final results of her hard work. Taehyung, feeling extremely proud of her, is in the mood for celebation. He invites her for dinner, but eventually the lasagna in the oven is not the only tthing getting hot — and the cheesecake is not the only sweet thing on the menu.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. mentions of alcohol. smut: making out, grinding, humping, groping (ass, breasts) hair tugging, fingering, very soft overgrown teenagers being inappropriate and horny and tenderly feral on the sofa. Also cramps cause topping ain't easy folks.

A special thank you to @taegularities, my cutest, most adorable, Taehyung stan, The Radiant Rid. I love you, babe. Can't wait to read your next masterpiece 💕

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. And in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Enjoy 💜✨

You were falling for Kim Taehyung.

This was by far an undoubtable truth, like the butterflies in your stomach, like the softness of his hair and the plump curve of his lip, like the excruciating, painfully perfect beauty of his face.

He was a gift to humankind, you realised.

You were sure that by now your heart eyes showed in a three-mile radius, and from the way he looked at you in return, you could tell the sentiment was somehow returned.

What made you insecure was his lack of initiative.

You noticed he enjoyed being on the receiving end — which had actually shown a few days before, when he’d fallen asleep in the comfort of your lap, you reading your book while he recovered from the stressful day.

You could still remember the soft golden light coming in through the window, the way his breath got heavy with sleep, his hand laying just an inch above your knee, growing clammy with sweat as he heated up under the blanket. And the feel of his fluffy locks under your fingertips.

He’d looked adorable, a gentle blush on his cheeks, his cherub face relaxing, chubby and plump with the sweet abandon of sleep.

His hands suddenly laid delicately atop yours. “The kiln has cooled up. Would you like to see?” Taehyung asked quietly, trying not to wake you from your reverie too abruptly.

“Oh, yes!” you replied as briefly as possible, hoping he didn’t catch you daydreaming while staring at him with a fond expression.

“Be very careful, they’re hot,” he said, lifting the top of the kiln slowly and letting the remaining hot air come out a bit at a time, without having to feel the heat hit his face.

“Are they going to be good?” you asked curiously. Not all your pieces had made it through bisque firing, and the idea of having something that actually looked like a finished, real work of art was getting you excited. You had been taking lessons for six weeks now and it felt about time to see some results.

“I think I can spot a good one,” he mused as he lifted the lid, bright blue glaze immediately catching your attention.

“Did the bowl survive? The one with the golden swirls? Please, tell me it did, I love it so much!” You felt ready to beg, pray, cry if something had gone wrong.

“It’s on the middle shelf. Be patient, you golden retriever,” he joked, wearing a pair of latex gloves to make sure the temperature was okay without damaging the glaze.

“It was my first to survive bisque, I am invested!” you argued back, peering from over his shoulder, noticing that your vase for Terry had survived.

“Vase accomplished, Frog. You should be excited about that one,” he said, moving it to a shelf. “It means you worked it nicely.”

You shrugged. It was one of your latest pieces, so you weren’t too surprised about it. Still, considering that shaping a vase with consistent walls is a feat in itself, you smirked. “You taught me well.”

“I did,” he replied, lifting a large, low bonsai plate. “Ready to see your bowl, Frog?”

“If anything happened to it, I’m going to kill you.”

Taehyung turned to you, grinning, his nose scrunched in a way that made you sure you would never lift a finger on him.

Your eyes closed: because you were nervous about the bowl, you told yourself — not because you couldn’t stand Taehyung’s expression without pressing your lips to his.

He lifted the shelf from the kiln. He turned to look at you.

He did not resist.

It was like you were waiting for him to kiss you, fist pressed underneath your chin, eyes screwed shut in excitement and fear.

He touched his lips to the apple of your cheek. Your eyes shot open, but the gentleness on his face calmed you. “Congratulations, miss Frog, you have a beautiful blue baby,” he declared in a very medical fashion.

You threw your arms around him, jumping up and down as you giggled hysterically.

“And she cheers for the bowl,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “As if she could mess it up after that vase.”

“Screw the damned vase, show me my baby,” you said, going grabby hands to the kiln.

“No, Frog. Wait,” he said, picking up the piece and bringing it to the table, you in tow like a tail-wadding, restless puppy.

“It’s so pretty,” you mused as soon as he set the bowl down. “It’s so sparkly. So glittery. Taehyung, it’s perfect,” you whispered in awe, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him.

Fondness overwhelmed him as he saw your amused look, so dreamy and happy and satisfied.

It was your baby. Your special creature. Selfishly, he felt like he had contributed to the creation.

For a second he thought that’s what it must feel like to be a father. “Watch over it while I finish the rest,” he said, taking a step away.

You grabbed his wrist.

He turned, waiting for you to explain.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice emotional.

He twisted his arm in your grip until his hand could reach for yours, engulfing it.

And right in that second, he felt he belonged. Somehow crazily, stupidly, innocently, he felt at home. “Anytime, darling.” He rubbed his thumb against your inner wrist before letting you go. He still had half a kiln to unload.

Bowls and mugs came out easily, some of them even presenting unintended variations that would for sure attract buyers. He felt proud.

But most of all, he wanted to go back to your bowl, to you worshipping it like a little miracle, the poor vase sitting unattended on a high shelf, out of harm’s way.

He closed the lid and took the vase, bringing it to you and placing it on the table.

“You did a very good job, Frog,” he complimented you, placing his hand close to yours, hoping to rekindle the affection he had felt only a few minutes ago.

“It’s not like I did it by myself,” you admitted, beaming up at him.

“Stay for dinner,” he blurted out, “Seokjin brought a cheesecake this morning, I still have half of it. And I have his lasagna in the freezer. We could cook it and eat that — I don’t trust myself making anything edible.”

You snickered. “You don't want me to cook?”

He shook his head. “I wanted to… To celebrate.”

You smiled, standing up, his mouth right before your eyes, “What are we celebrating?”

He looked at your lips as they moved. “The vase,” he replied seriously, although the tone of his voice meant a thousand other things.

“Of course,” you conceded. “Let’s go. I’m hungry,” you confessed, grabbing his hand, tugging at his arm.

Taehyung could swear he was floating a foot off the ground out of happiness. He realised he’d been happier than usual lately; he’d been selling more pieces and his part time job was finally giving him some satisfaction.

He felt like he was drifting across the kitchen as he put his phone in a wooden box as an amplifier, playing an old jazz tune as he put the lasagna in the oven.

You sat at the table, watching him move around with a small smile, your head leaning on your palm. You were such a sucker.

“Wine?”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna get me drunk,” you smiled.

He sat at your side, “why not,” he teased, “just vaguely tipsy. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” He placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head slowly.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you murmured, looking down before meeting his eyes again.

He licked his lips. “Who is it, then?”

“Me.”

“What about you?” His fingers skimmed the surface of the table, sliding all the way to your elbow and tracing your inner forearm.

A shiver ran down your spine. “I get clingy. And slightly inappropriate,” you chuckled embarrassedly.

“I could never be bothered by that,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “I bet you’d look so adorable.” His hand opted to cup the back of yours before you slipped your hand away, making his palm touch your cheek instead, your face leaning in. “Which would make you absolutely irresistible,” he admitted, nodding fondly at your display of trust.

“Thank you,” you replied to the compliment, feeling your face heat up.

“Let’s lay the table.”

Let’s lay down and make out for three hours and fall asleep under the stars in the back of a pickup.

You gave your brain a second to calm down. “Sure. How can I help you?”

In twenty minutes, the tasty smell of lasagna began drifting in the air, making your mouth water as you and Taehyung talked about his other job — the one that actually paid the bills and brought food on the table. “I just love them, they’re adorable. I managed to practice when my granny used to babysit.”

You pouted, starry eyed as he talked about the children, going on and on about the five year old that always wanted to curl his hair and paint his nails.

Most of all, you loved the idea of him sitting on a baby chair, all curled up, giant hand sprawled on the table while the girl spread lacquer on his pretty nails.

“Your granny babysat?”

“She raised a few of us, yes, and then she was the babysitter for all the kids of the street,” he explained.

“I thought you grew up with your mom?” you said confusedly.

“Yes, we stayed with my mom until we turned four, but then she went back to her job and we started staying with my grandmother. And when I was ten, my mom started dating a good man. He’s one of the greatest people I know, but unfortunately, he was transferred out of state and my mom decided to go with him. I didn’t want to leave and my granny let me stay with her.”

You nodded, taking in more details about him. “Are you happy about the situation with your mom? Do you miss her?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. But I like seeing her happy. She got married and she’s safe. Her husband spoils her, he takes care of her and he’s well off. She won’t need to worry about her health.”

“That’s a good thing,” you nodded, getting startled once the timer rang.

“Thank God,” he muttered, getting an oven glove as you stepped away quickly.

Dinner was a quiet ordeal, with easy chatting and small pauses. Silence was more than welcome as you slipped into the quiet comfort of sharing a meal. It was all so natural, effortless. And the food was delicious, filling your stomach but also pleasing your tastebuds; Seokjin was famous for his culinary skills, but he really outdid himself with the cheesecake, so creamy and perfectly sweet that you asked for a second serving, Taehyung more than happy to comply.

You kept chatting as you helped him clear the table, washing the dishes while he dried them.

“Last one,” you called, rinsing a plate before passing it to him.

You watched him as he diligently dried it, your gaze meeting his in his peripheral.

You tried to find something to say as his stare focused on you, his hands placing down the plate as he fully turned towards you.

“What?” you murmured hesitantly.

“I might do something stupid,” he said, his voice deep and barely audible, his face getting closer to you. “But I haven’t done it in a very long time.” His hand landed on your waist. “Stop me if you find it outright idiotic.”

There was nothing idiotic in the way his mouth looked so inviting from up close, all its curves too inviting for you to stop staring.

The mole on his lower lip teased you in ways that made you want to throw yourself at him. You couldn’t even understand how the attraction worked, you were simply needy, praying for his mouth to finally meet yours.

“Close your eyes,” he breathed out, trying to find courage.

You followed his suggestion, putting yourself out of misery and standing on your tiptoes before leaning in, finally joining your lips with his.

He didn’t even pretend to keep calm, both arms wrapping around your waist as he held you, delivering a string of small pecks with his lips slightly ajar, offering you the soft plumpness of the inner flesh, vaguely humid and hot.

You loved it.

All you could do was exhale, a tiny cry leaving your throat as your vocal cords caught the breath leaving your lungs. Your hands flew to his hair, hiding in him as embarrassment set you aflame.

A low grunt echoed through his chest as he felt you tug the locks at his nape gently, your body pressing harder against him.

He tried to hold you back, not sure he was ready to admit the carnal way his body reacted to you. He wanted to be gentle, delicate, cautious, but the tightness of his trousers around his crotch was anything but.

“Darling, I need a minute,” he mumbled against your lips in an almost tickling motion.

“Just one more,” you replied, your voice so heated and thin.

He tutted. “Let’s not go too fast.”

You stood straighter and chased his mouth as he tried to retreat, your eyelids lowered as you stared at the sweet, tempting mole.

“Just one…” you whispered before sucking his lower lip, licking it with the tip of your tongue.

His hand moved to your tailbone, pressing you closer. Rational thought abandoned him as he pushed his tongue against the seam of your lips, rubbing it against your palate before letting it tangle with yours.

That’s when you noticed the hardness between your legs, his thigh slotted there comfortably as you pressed your hips to it, eliciting a moan from Taehyung.

“Sofa,” you murmured, trying to hold him to you as you walked backwards to the door.

“Wait,” he breathed out, trying to part from you, causing you to whine.

“Don’t go,” you said with a pout. “I need you,” you almost whimpered, touching his nape, his neck, his chest.

“I’ll be there in a second. Don’t go all cute grumpy on me, I just need to grab my phone,” he explained, unglueing your body from his. Reluctantly made your way to the kitchen door, waiting for him before heading to the sitting room, refusing to let him out of your sight anytime soon.

Once he’d pocketed his phone, he turned towards you, his eyes getting dark and lascivious as he studied your frame while you leaned against the door jamb.

He strolled casually towards you, your eyes following his sinewy limbs.

You realised you were eager to see him naked, the thought making you pause mid-breath.

Once he stood in front of you, his arm slipped between your back and the wooden frame of the door, holding you as he leaned down. “Smartest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“Even smarter if you’re gonna do me,” you quipped, biting your lower lip and cringing once you realised you had said it out loud.

He snickered and kissed you, your hips pushing forward to grind against him, his cock too hard and large for you not to notice it. His hand wrapped around your asscheek, helping you grind even harder, his lean, strong fingers squeezing and kneading your flesh deliciously. Carefully walking towards his destination, he helped you navigate the corridor in a slight penumbra, a thin ray of moonlight slashing the floor before he pushed the door open and entered the sitting room. The space was illuminated in a blue-grey light coming from the full moon shining outside the windows.

Haphazardly, you managed to sit down, pulling him with you, making him lose his balance and stumble a little.

“Are you okay?” you asked, worried about the stupefied look on his face.

“Yeah, just thinking how to…” he fixed his stance, wondering if he should pull you on his lap or make you lay down or…

“Come here,” you murmured, kissing the mole on his cheek. “I’ve got so many kisses to give you.”

“They’re all mine,” he cooed, turning adorable for a second.

You melted. “Yes, now come here, don’t make me beg.”

He turned and leaned into you, cupping your jawline and holding you still before he slipped his tongue across your mouth. “You’re too far like this,” he complained, ignoring the fact that your bodies were literally touching shoulder to ankle.

“Wait.” You quickly bent your legs underneath you, thankful for the no-shoes rule in his house as you sat on your heels. “Like this?” you asked as he mirrored the motion almost too rapidly, his body rocking dangerously.

He immediately realised his trousers were tighter like this. He tried to ignore it, his only goal being for his mouth to meet yours, feeling the hot, milky taste of your tongue that still held some memory of the cheesecake. “Come closer,” he breathed, hoping to get some friction, the softness of your breasts against his torso, crying out at how much he missed the stand-up position, allowing the front of his body to adhere to yours with alarming precision.

“Can’t get any closer,” you chuckled desperately. “Can I lay down?”

He nodded, he needed close.

You untucked your legs from beneath you, bending them at each of his sides. “We can go to my room—”

“I like it here,” you replied, tugging him into you, his eyes shooting open once he’d risked falling from the sofa.

You managed to catch him, thankful for the wide cushions of the seats. “Be careful,” you giggled fondly, kissing his brow, his nose, following his moles like fire flights. The whole night felt magical. It felt even more magical once you managed to get his playlist to play again, placing his phone on the ground and enjoying the round fullness of his backside.

“You really have hands made for pottery,” he mused as he kissed your brow, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your chin, the shell of your ear. “I like them there,” he confessed, pushing his pelvis against yours, meeting it mid-thrust and coaxing a whine from your throat and a growl from his.

One of his arms lifted from beside your head. “Can I?” he asked politely, letting it hover just a few inches over your breast.

“Please do,” you replied, leading his hand with yours, his wrist and fingers immediately catching up on how to grab it, squeeze it, roll it in his palm and toy with the nipple.

“Harder? Softer? Just like this?” he checked in, attentive and concerned.

“Just slightly harder,” you panted. “Slower too, please.”

His pace changed immediately, getting you to whine as you completely connected with his touch. The soft, slow massage was making you hyper-aware of every inch of skin, every single part of your breast, every nerve ending and hard edge and soft curve.

“I wanna take off my bra. Can I?” you asked in the heat of the moment.

Taehyung was vaguely confused for a second, so lost in the feel of you that he barely understood the question. “If you want that, I want that,” he replied, his breath laboured.

Quickly, you arched your back, Taehyung’s lips reaching the column of your throat and peppering it with soft pecks. “Do you need help?”

You tutted and moaned as his teeth scraped your skin lightly.

With some gymnastics, you managed to tug the garment out of your shirt, Taehyung moaning at the increased softness underneath his palm. “Goodness, they’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing his face against one, rubbing it as he turned his head side to side.

“Please, keep touching them,” you mumbled, your voice rough with the way you struggled to breathe.

He changed the arm propping him up, switching sides as he started to tease your other breast. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to confirm before your hands grabbed his ass to push him against you.

He paused for a second.

“I’m getting out of control,” he warned you.

“And?”

“I’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep this up,” he confessed, purring as you nibbled his jaw. “Slow down, please,” he panted, lifting his hips away from you.

“Tae,” you called, breathing heavily, almost begging him.

“I want you a lot, ____, please tell me you do too,” he was almost feverish with need, his brow furrowed, his beautiful eyes glittering in the dark.

“Isn’t it clear?” you asked in return, trying to chase him on his retreat.

He tutted and pushed you down. “I want to hear it.”

“I want you, Taehyung. I need you. I want to see you lose control.” Your mind was gone, far far away, your brain malfunctioning as his curls tickled your upper chest.

“I don’t wanna go all the way,” he murmured, “I just… I just wanna—” he huffed out frustratedly. “I just want to make you feel good. And to feel you close to me.”

You bit your lip. “Maybe—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to make love to you. I really want to. But this is going so fast and I wanna savour every step. Take my time.” He pressed his forehead against your chest. “I just like you so much and I want you to know it means something to me.” He paused and you waited for him. “I don’t want you to think this is just a random thing to me, and I don’t want to be a random thing to you.”

“You’re not.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “We can take our time—”

“You must think I’m a coward,” he murmured, voice filled with self-hatred.

You held him closer, trying to convey all your affection. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe with me. I get you, baby.” You rubbed the tip of his nose with yours. “Let’s take baby steps. We can just mess around. You want to make me feel good, and I you. No need to have sex to go there.”

He nodded. “I wanna keep touching you,” he murmured. “I wanna feel you with my hands.”

You blinked slowly, eager to feel his fingers on you, inside you. “That sounds great, baby,” you encouraged him, watching his shy smile and the gentle blush on his cheeks, out of exertion and shyness.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he whispered in your ear before kissing the soft spot underneath it, his free hand moving down, from your breast to your stomach, slipping underneath your shirt, moving up against your naked skin.

You gasped once his palm cupped the underside of your bosom.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Feels very good,” you answered, caressing his hair out of his face, his eyes moving from your chest to your lips to your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, reaching for your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“Bless you, yes, baby. So good.” It was natural to trace his mouth with your finger, his lips parting to welcome it into his mouth. Your hips arched up, meeting his thigh to grind against him. You needed more pressure against your clit, your entrance clenching and widening as you felt wetness coat your folds uncomfortably. You refused to pressure him into leading his hand downwards, still you thanked several deities when his gentle fingertips started making their way to your belly button, dipping his digit in to study its shape, feeling all the ridges and tender skin. “It feels so cute,” he said after letting your finger out of his mouth, watching as you brushed it against your neck to dry it up. “I wanna make a little sculpture out of it.” He giggled. “Sorry, that’s so childish.” He shook his head.

“It’s adorable,” you replied, “it’s— Mmh, Tae. Yes.” He managed to scatter your thoughts across the universe once his fingers dipped into your jeans.

“Undo the button please,” he growled, reaching for the wet spot on your panties. “Darling dearest, you’re fucking drenched,” he said, a deep cry giving away just how desperate he was. “Can I get in your panties, precious?”

Mouth gaping, you nodded, an embarrassing mewl echoing across the room as he touched a slightly delicate spot. “That’s too sensitive,” you keened, a strangled purr leaving you once your back arched, his thumb relieving the disturbing pressure and wetness.

As slight friction began to build, Taehyung bit his lip, the vision of you so erotic and calming at the same time. It felt right, oh-so-right, to have you underneath him like that — maybe slightly overdressed, but adorably pliant and needy.

“Want them inside, darling?” he asked you, your head nodding yes quickly, without a shred of doubt. “Here, talk to me, sweetheart. Like this?” he murmured, waiting for your feedback.

“Yes,” was all you managed to utter, his digits hitting your sweet spot without even trying. “Rub there, please, stretch me,” you told him, guiding him as your hips started to roll, his thumb meeting your clit and causing a small whimper to exit your mouth before you clamped your lips around his neck.

“You feel amazing, darling. Soft and so hot and so velvety. You’re so dang slippery, it feels insane.” He kissed your head. “Want to make you cum so fast. I want to keep you up for hours like this, and then kiss you until you fall asleep. You’re spectacular, ____. I can’t take my eyes off you, my precious.”

You felt overwhelmed with the way he pushed his fingers inside you, pressing his long, strong, skilled, digits against your walls, stretching you so impossibly wide that you felt like you could probably fit four fingers in to the knuckles. But you didn’t have time to think much, simply arching your hips up and pushing your jeans and panties to your mid-thighs, trying to give him more space for action.

“Is the angle alright?” he checked in, binding his wrist a little lower, getting better leverage to finger you harder.

“Keep going like this,” you exhaled, your hand moving down, fixing his thumb as he struggled to find the right spot, “let me handle this, focus on the inside, please.”

He nodded and kissed your lips. “Sorry.”

You kissed him again. “No need to apologise— Yeah, right… there…” you said, starting to thrust up in earnest. “Clits are complicated but you’re doing so good inside,” you licked your lips, trying to ease the pain of them drying up with your and his breathing.

He bent down and chased the tip of your tongue as you ran it across your mouth, drinking in your soft hiccups and gasps as you neared your climax, his mouth crashing onto yours as you finally came apart underneath him, his kisses muffling your moans and cries.

Taehyung felt desperate as he slipped another finger inside you, giving you as much fullness as he could offer while you clenched around his digits, actually sobbing once you processed his generous offer.

It took you maybe thirty seconds before you could calm down, taking your fingers off your clit, whispering an “okay, slow down” to Taehyung, who halted the arching and pistoning of his fingers to simply press against your g spot and cup your mound with his palm.

“All good?” he asked, grunting a little as his arm cramped up.

“Yeah, are you?” you murmured back, noticing his wince.

“Cramp,” he huffed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Want me on top? You’ve strained yourself already as it is,” you scolded him apprehensively.

He shook his head and withdrew his hand from your crotch, cleaning his fingers with lewd, erotic swipes of his tongue. You felt ready to begin all over again. “I need to be on top,” he said, drying his hand against his t-shirt before propping himself up on both elbows before bending down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I kinda want to grind on you, if you’re okay with it.”

Nodding, you helped your hips up, fixing your clothes back in place but also leaving your zipper and button open. “Clothes on?”

You felt his head move in an affirmative motion, his hips starting to press against you. “I know I must look like a teenager to you.”

“It’s adorable. Makes me feel very young,” you said before chuckling. “It’s been so long since I felt this good with anyone,” you confessed, holding him to your chest, assisting his motions by moving your own pelvis in a wavy pattern. “It’s so comfortable. So familiar and nice,” you whispered in his ear before biting it gently. “You make me feel like I’m not an utter mess in this attraction thing.”

“You’re not a mess. You just feel attraction differently.” He managed to gather his thoughts and words long enough to reply to you. He thought it was important for you to feel that it was okay, that he didn’t mind, that all he cared about was how happy he felt by your side. “You’re hot, you’re smart. And you’re so…” He grunted as he found the perfect angle and pressure, his high rushing towards him. “So magnetic. And good…” Another purr left his mouth as he started humping you in earnest, going so fast you doubted you would survive having him inside you, his torso crashing on you as he hummed and bit the crook of your neck, crotch attached to your thigh as he pushed, harder and harder, his glutes impossibly tight under your palms.

“Yes, baby. I’m here, Tae. It’s all okay, babe.”

“So good,” he rumbled, still hiding against you. “So, so good,” he moaned again, your face tensing in a kind, elated smile.

“Lay on me, baby,” you kissed the crown of his head. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, and it had little to do with the orgasm and the freaky show. You loved his tenderness, his gentle approach, the way he had checked in on you throughout the whole night, wide puppy eyes staring at you in focus and adoration and wonder. And the way he had asked to take it easy, the way you had felt no pressure, no need to search for attraction, but finding it there, in the way his hands felt familiar and welcome and so, so loving, in his face and his smile and his stupid, stupid, ridiculously fluffy hair. There was attraction and even though you had asked yourself why at the beginning, you didn’t dare doubt it now. It was just like oxygen in your blood, like black holes and shooting stars and the moon phases. Undoubtable. Solid. Proven. Undeniable. It had become a main axiom to your existence.

I’m in love with Kim Taehyung.

It was like the world suddenly spinned the other way around. You let the revelation sink in, your hand running up and down Taehyung’s spine.

“You’re safe with me, babe.”

He nodded and nuzzled in closer. “Are you staying?”

“Yes, sweetie. You’ll be sleeping in my arms tonight, baby.”

You felt him smile against your neck before he found a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

Taglist is open

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

[swordandquill]

Leverage Writing Prompt #31

Title: Future Tides

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: Nate has been keeping a secret from the team, but an inopportune explosion forces him to reveal it.

This is a prompt fill for @leverage-writing-prompts. I actually submitted this prompt back in July, but only got around to finishing it now.

In honor of the beautiful (and also occasionally creepy) mer-May art I still have circulating on my dash: Parker (or Nate) is secretly a merperson. When a job goes wrong, they’re forced to reveal their secret.

@rinahale did a really fun fill for it already with Mer-Parker.

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

Author’s notes: The merrow are Irish merfolk who require a magical cap to move between land and sea.

Bone and Sickle podcast by Al Ridenour did a really great episode on the Kraken (Ep 65: The Kraken & Other Marvels of the Northern Sea). In its earliest renditions, the Kraken was a sea serpent. It was only later that it became associated with first giant octopi, then the giant squid.

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

Nate knew as soon as the explosion knocked Eliot over the railing of the pier that he only had one option. Eliot was strong swimmer, but not stronger than the turbulent currents under the pier, particularly if he was unconscious. Nate hadn’t been able to tell in the split second it had taken to register him going over.

Even as he was yelling for the rest of the team to get off the burning structure, he was shucking off his shoes and jumping over the railings. He hoped they listened. The rickety structure was going to collapse, with or without another explosion. Getting to Eliot before he got bashed into the pylons was going to be enough of a challenge without having to worry about the rest of the team ending up in the water.

By the time Nate hit the water, his fingernails had hardened into claws, and he used them to tear the rest of his clothes off so he could finish the change. There was something euphoric about settling into his other form. He hadn’t changed since before Sam was born, and it was like finally allowing himself to scratch an itch that had been burning its way through his skin.

There wasn’t time to think about that though. Nate blinked his second eyelid closed, and the murky water sharpened into black and white, the fire above reflecting through the water in bright, washed-out streaks. He had to fight the chaotic currents rushing under the pier to stay still long enough to spot Eliot.

He had already been swept under the pier, probably already been driven into the pylons at least once, and was limp in the water. Nate flicked his tail and pushed into the current, using it to reach Eliot before he could be driven into the pylons again, but he wasn’t able to get them clear of the pier before the next surge. The best he could do was curl around Eliot and turn them so his back hit the pylon instead of Eliot. He was going to be bruised, but it was better than Eliot hitting again.

He pushed hard across the current and surfaced a good four meters from the pier. Eliot started coughing as soon as they broke the surface. The shear relief of it left Nate drifting for a moment, Eliot’s head tipped back against his shoulder and the rip tide pulling them out. There was blood fanning across Eliot’s face from a cut at his temple, and he wasn’t quite conscious, but he was breathing, and for now, that was enough.

Nate cut across the rip to escape it, then brought them into shore, doing his best to keep Eliot’s head above water, although there was no doubt he had breathed in more water by the time they reached the shore.

Changing back was not as easy or simple as the change to had been, but Nate had known it wouldn’t be, known he couldn’t deny his body something it had been craving for so long, then expect it to just let go of it so quickly again. It meant he had to drag Eliot up onto the beach with a tail, which was less than ideal and required more arm strength than he was used to using in either form, but he managed it.

He turned Eliot on his side in the sand as he continued to cough up water. Part of him wanted to leave him here for the team to find and make a break for it before they saw. Eliot was unlikely to remember anything, and Nate was sure he could make something up that would appease them. Then nothing would have to change.  

Eliot’s eyes fluttered open, and he shifted fitfully, his whole body shaking with cold and shock.

“Just lie still,” Nate brushed the wet hair from his face with a webbed hand, “you’re alright.”

Eliot blinked up at him, and Nate waited for the reaction, but Eliot just gave an unsurprised “oh” before another coughing fit had him curling back into himself.

Nate let out a sigh and rubbed his back. He couldn’t wait to hear what “distinctive” thing about him had tipped Eliot off to what he was.

Someone yelled his name, and he looked up to see three silhouettes, framed against the light of the burning pier and racing towards them. It was a relief to see them, but Nate couldn’t help the unease as they got closer.

Parker reached them first, too focused on Eliot to pay much attention to Nate. She dropped down in the sand next to them, grabbing Eliot’s shoulder and shaking him in the Parker version of gentleness. Eliot batted at her weakly, but curled closer to her none-the-less. It wasn’t until Nate brushed her hand away when she tried to poke Eliot that she finally looked up at him.

Nate braced himself for fear, or disgust, or any number of negative reactions, but her face lit up like she’d just received a bag of non-sequentially numbered bills.

“You have cool teeth!” she told him brightly.

Nate’s world snapped back into place and all the unease drained out of him.

“Thank you, Parker,” he said drolly, just managing to not run his tongue over the points of his teeth.

“Oh my,” Sophie stopped short as she reached them, and Hardison almost ran into her.

“What is it?” the hacker demanded anxiously, “is Eliot…”

Hardison trailed off, mouth open and eyes wide at the sight of Nate’s tail.

“Nate’s a mermaid,” Parker announced gleefully.

“Do I look like a maid to you?” Nate groused.

“Maybe if you had a feather duster,” Sophie was giving him a look that said they would be having a long, unpleasant conversation later, “and a frilly little French smock.”

“Mermaids are real?” Hardison sputtered.

“Merrow,” Eliot corrected hazily, then curled into another coughing fit.

Nate was never going to hear the end of this from any of them. The fast-approaching sirens were almost a relief.

“Get him out of here,” Nate helped Parker to sit Eliot up, “don’t let him tell you he doesn’t need a hospital. He’s got water in his lungs.”

Hardison ducked down and helped Parker get Eliot to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, and the two were quick to get his arms around their shoulders and take his weight.

“What about you?” Sophie gestured towards his tail.

“Changing back takes longer,” Nate made a shooing motion, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You promise?” Parker demanded, refusing to be dragged in the direction Hardison was trying to usher both her and Eliot, “not like the little mermaid; you won’t turn into sea foam for loving humans?”

“No, not like that,” Nate assured her with an eyeroll, “hurry up and get out of here so I can too.”

“But you promise,” Parker refused to budge, “you’ll catch up later. You won’t disappear.”

“I promise,” Nate snapped, “go already.”

Parker grinned and turned back to help Hardison with Eliot.

“Don’t think I won’t send a trawler after you if I have to,” Sophie threatened, then turned to follow the rest of the team in the direction of the waiting van.

Nate didn’t doubt she would, and that they would find him, but he didn’t have any intention of making them do that. For now though, he pushed back into the water and let the waves carry him back out towards the open sea.

**********

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were a mermaid,” Hardison hissed, voice low in a futile attempt to not wake Eliot.

“Merrow,” Eliot mumbled groggily.

Futile because Eliot wasn’t sleeping. Exhausted, still feeling chilly if the truly ridiculous number of blankets piled on him were any indication, and a bit out of it from a not insignificant head injury, but not asleep, at least not at the moment.

“You know, I googled that,” Hardison groused, “just because Nate wears stupid hats all the time doesn’t mean he’s some kind of Irish shape-shifting sea creature.”

Sophie snorted indelicately.

“That’s not…” Eliot started to protest, only to be cut off by Parker, which was probably for the best given how soar his throat sounded.

“You can’t have your hat back,” Parker pulled Nate’s hat down farther on her head; she must have picked it up after he dropped it at the pier, “just in case.”

Eliot moved restlessly in his hospital bed, and Nate, sitting on the edge of it, dropped his hand down to pat the hitter’s wrist. He left his hand there, fingers resting lightly against Eliot’s pulse point.

“You can keep the hat, Parker,” Nate said easily, “it looks good on you.”

Parker beamed at him from the foot of Eliot’s bed.

“It’s a con anyway,” Nate continued dismissively, “someone made it up centuries ago to trick fishermen and it stuck.”

“You really are a merrow,” Hardison deflated, as if the reality of it had finally sunk in.

“Yes, Nate,” Sophie sat back in the uncomfortable hospital chair regally, looking for all the world like a queen reigning over her court, “do tell us about being a mythical sea creature.”

Parker leaned forward like a child eager for a bedtime story.

“Well…”

Nate was interrupted by Eliot reaching up with his free hand to try to pull his oxygen cannulas off. Again. Nate caught his hand and lowered it back down to rest on his chest.

“Leave that be for now,” Nate gave his hand a pat.

“I don’t want it,” Eliot shifted, movements agitated and unsure, as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do, “we should get out of here. It isn’t safe.”

“I’ve got it all taken care of, man,” Hardison reassured him patiently, “we’re safe.”

“Security’s not…” Eliot started to protest.

“We’re security,” Nate let his hand fall back to Eliot’s wrist and left it there, “we’ll check in with the doctor this afternoon and reassess, alright?”

Eliot grumbled, but settled down again.

There was very little chance of Eliot being released before tomorrow. He was responding well to oxygen, and the CT had looked good, but he had been unconscious underwater, and that wasn’t something any of them wanted to take lightly. He was having trouble focusing and keeping track of what was going on around him, and it wasn’t because of the relatively mild pain meds he had been given.

Better to keep him where he could get the care he needed, at least while they could. Nate wasn’t kidding about reassessing. If the situation changed, and they needed to go to ground, they had other resources they could tap into to make sure Eliot still got taken care of. For now, though, this was best.

“Nate,” Parker was looking at him intently, “Sophie said I should pick something besides money that I want for my birthday.”

Nate turned to face her, resigned to whatever was coming.

“I like gold and gems too,” Parker grinned, “shipwrecks have lots of gold and gems.”

Nate gave a long-suffering sigh, and pointedly ignored Sophie suppressing a snicker.

“It wouldn’t even be like stealing,” Parker pressed, “it’s not like anyone really owns it anymore.”

“There are plenty of countries that would disagree with you on that,” Nate said dryly.

“Only if they know we have it,” Parker shrugged, “so can we go diving for treasure for my birthday?”

“You have to commit to a date for your birthday first, sweetheart,” Sophie pointed out, “also, if we’re diving for treasure, there is the platinum reserves Spain dumped into the ocean in the 16th century. Probably not enough to make the expense of an actual expedition worth it, but if you could just swim to it…”

“No,” Nate said firmly, “absolutely not. We are not treasure hunters.”

“But we could be,” Hardison smiled impishly, “we do need alternative revenues streams after all.”

“Not Spain,” Eliot murmured sleepily, “’s guarded.”

“By what? A kraken?” Hardison scoffed, then paused, “wait, there isn’t a kraken, is there?”

“No,” Nate said firmly at the same time that Eliot said “yes.”

He glared at the hitter, who gave him a tired, shit-eating grin.

“It’s not a cephalopod,” Eliot looked far too pleased with the way Hardison started to sputter.

Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. At this rate, they were never going to get Hardison near the water again.

“You’re making that up,” Hardison balked, “there aren’t sea monsters.”

“How would you know?” Eliot countered, “you don’t even swim.”

Hardison opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but Nate interrupted him.

“What I want to know, is how you knew what I was,” he gave Eliot a curious look.

It would be good for him to know what had tipped Eliot off so he could fix it. The fewer people that could tell what he was, the better. Maggie had known, had seen him change once before they were married, but he hadn’t wanted to split his life between two worlds. He had chosen the land, still chose the land. That remained where the things that mattered to him were.

“You bled all over me when you were shot,” Eliot said, “your blood is different than human blood. It’s distinctive.”

Not something he could do anything about then, although it was interesting to him that Eliot hadn’t bothered to say anything about it sooner. As with all the random and far-reaching knowledge Eliot had, Nate was caught between wanting to know how he knew and feeling it was probably best not to ask.

“That’s just nasty,” Hardison grumbled.

“So we’ll go to South American, and Hardison and I will track down the shipwreck sites,” Parker continued as if she had never been interrupted, “you can search the shipwrecks, and Eliot can help me update my dive certification.”

“Whatever you want, darling,” Eliot yawned.

“Do I get a say in this?” Nate asked.

“Probably not,” Sophie looked thoroughly amused.

“It will be like a family vacation,” Parker grinned, clearly excited by the idea, “you and Sophie keep saying I’m supposed to try normal people things that I haven’t done before.”

Nate knew a lost cause when he heard one. He sat back and listened to Hardison and Parker plan, keeping half an eye on Eliot as he finally drifted off to sleep.  Sophie alternated between encouraging the pair with much too much enthusiasm and giving Nate thoughtful side glances. He was grateful she didn’t push for more information. Not yet anyway.

He had told Maggie before he had proposed to her. It had seemed unfair not to. And Sam… Sam had been so young. Nate was never sure he really believed it was more than a fairy story. Maybe if he had lived longer… gotten to be older… who knew what could have happened, what potential had never been unlocked. It hurt to think about, made him want to reach for a bottle and try to forget all the things his son should have been, should have had.

Eliot reached for the cannulas in his sleep, and Nate caught his hand, bringing it back down to his side and holding onto it.

Nate had a future here. Different from the one he had so badly wanted, shaped by different tides, full of unexplored depths and currents, but still good. He was learning to live with that, slow though the process was. It wasn’t the catastrophe he had always thought it would be, having them find out.

If the trade-off for this new future was the occasional treasure hunt, Nate could live with that.

*********

Parker continued to be non-committal about choosing a birthday, but there was a lovely 16th century gold and ruby pendent necklace tucked under the tree for her at Christmas.

[huenjin]

"i am never, ever, going to one of jisung's parties again."

you shift in your 'seat' to try and get comfortable which results in the person underneath to emit a low groan, hot breath fanning against your ear causing goosebumps to rise all over. it's such an inappropriate scene, the way changbin has you perched on his lap, firm hands on your hips to stop you from moving around too much. "comfy, princess?" he rasps, and you have to bite your lip from making any sounds you know will boost his ego. it's already sky high as it is. god you could almost feel the raging hard-on if you leaned further back, even just a little.

it's hyunjin's fault. you blame it all on hyunjin for dragging you there because he said you needed to "have fun and let loose" after 2 weeks of stress and sleepless nights during final exams. you really do appreciate his thoughtfulness, and he's not wrong for the most part, it's just that you would've preferred staying in to binge watch the latest episodes of private lives on netflix. you're so behind on the drama it's frustrating. but when he offered to buy you new clothes for the halloween party, you figured why not? there's no loss with those terms are there?

wrong. hyunjin just conveniently forgot to mention that your natural enemy seo changbin would also be there. and that he'd be hot as fuck dressed as a policeman. if you were being brutally honest you'd like for him to lock you up and use those handcuffs for you, but it's well known around the campus that y/n and changbin do not go together. you bicker, you fight, you squabble every single time you're in the same room, let alone the same space. he riles you up like no other, and you challenge him like none has.

the sexual tension though? un-fucking-believable.

in changbin's defense, you didn't have to look so sexy in that air hostess costume. a flight attendant? he'd love for you to attend to his needs instead. it's true, the both of you can't stand each other but what's a bit of hate sex can't fix? "probably everything." was what his best friend and fellow roommate chan had said. he might be true, but that won't stop changbin from trying now will it? no, of course not.

"truth or dare y/n?"

curse that beer bottle for landing in your direction twice in a row. the first ended up with you in that position. and now? it's about to get real. so there's two options. either you get zapped by the lie-detecting machine or pick a lousy dare. both you're sure will only end up in your misery because your whole group of friends will forever try and get either you or changbin to break and get into each other's pants (or skirts) already. there's no giving up in their dictionary unless when it comes to studying.

"dare."

changbin whistles at your decision, his intense stare burning holes at the back of your head as he removed one of his hands to rest on your bare thigh. every touch of his fingertips sends tingles up your spine, core starting to drip with want. the longing, the need to be filled is overwhelming that your brain turns into mush and all rational thoughts are out the window.

"i dare you.. to kiss changbin. french style, if you will."

fuck it, you thought. you want a show? fine, i'll give you a show.

in the blink of an eye you've switched positions to straddle his lap, taking off the hat he's wearing and placing it on yourself before leaning in to capture his lips with yours. he smirks during the kiss, feeling victorious at you finally giving in at your desires. under different circumstances you'd want to slap that smirk right off, but now you're in too far to care.

it's animalistic, how he has in tongue in you within a split second after giving your ass cheeks a particularly harsh squeeze. the gasp you let out encourages him to move lower and lower to where you need him most. the sucking and biting he litters under your jaw would be future y/n's problem to handle in the morning because right now, you're putty in his hold. the purple and red marks are a sign, a warning. this is seo changbin's territory.

your hands around his neck, tangled in his soft locks earns a string unholy moans you're sure you'll never get tired of hearing. he knows damn well what he's doing. not one sweet spot of yours did he miss, and by the end of it he has your dress bunched up around your waist, lower half grinding down on his crotch.

"fuck, princess, you're so beautiful."

the action has you seeing stars, pure bliss fuelling your veins which keeps you going on and on and on. every drag gets you higher and god does it feel good. when his lips find yours again his thrusts meet you halfway, sinful moans getting swallowed by the wet muscle exploring the vast of your mouth. his taste is your favourite flavor yet.

you well and truly lost it when his dominance takes over. "you're tired hmm? it's okay princess let me take care of you." the flex of his thigh and the way he's pressing you down so that your clit rubs deliciously against the material of his pants has you keening. the words slipping out of his mouth are downright filthy, the knot in your stomach so awfully tight you're afraid it'll snap without caution.

"b-bin- changbin please.."

the audacity of this man to send you a devilish smirk after all you did was be a good girl for him.

"please what, princess? you're so pretty begging for me like this aren't you?"

his praises, god his praises could send you to heaven and back. you live off of him being proud of you, complimenting you as if you're fully his. he owns you. all of you.

"please.. don't s-stop. ah i'm so close. p-please."

"since you asked so nicely."

one strong pull and you're spurting hot white fluid all over his thigh. your newly bought lace panties, needless to say is drenched and ruined from the intense orgasm you had but fuck was it worth it. he chuckles when you pant, soothing you through your high with more praises that has you whimpering for more.

"sensitive are we princess?"

you blush bright red as he takes a good look at you, the condition you're in making you avoid eye contact in embarrassment. hiding your face in his chest, he runs his fingers through your hair and laughs when you hum appreciatively.

"cute."

then you realise the rest of the the room is empty except for the both of you. for once you're actually glad jisung hosted this party because his huge mansion has plenty of rooms to occupy. the door though, is left wide open. so much for privacy.

"do you still hate me?"

he asks out of the blue, catching you completely off guard. you lean back and stare up at him, tilting your head as if he's just asked something ridiculous. he chuckles again, seeming whipped at how cute you were being in response to his question.

"i've never hated you."

"really? then why do you get mad when i flirt with you?"

"because!!!!"

fuck, this is not a post sex kind of conversation.

"because you flirt with literally everyone, bin. i wanted to hide the fact that i do like you so i pretended i didn't."

you expected him to say sorry for playing with your feelings, or at least apologise for giving you mixed signals but all he does is smile sheepishly.

"what? why are you smiling?"

"you called me bin. only my close friends and loved ones call me that."

"and?"

"we're dating as of now."

[astrandofgold]

take me as i am

chapter 6: fell in love in the only way i knew

Here it is, the latest chapter! It’s only been….forever? I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for so long because I wasn’t quite sure how to finish it off, but I finally figured it out. This one focuses on the sweet, with some minor suggestive content. The song I referenced is Q&A by Kishi Bashi, and I’m absolutely obsessed with it! Also, is it even a story about Higgs if there isn’t a part where he plays guitar? 😂

___________________________

A well-worn blanket, a pack of beers, and a guitar. That’s what was strapped onto Leo’s back. The guitar was awkward, but she’d be damned if she hadn’t carried worse cargo. And besides, Higgs had promised her, with a chuckle, that he’d play for her if she managed to carry it all the way to their destination, of which, was now within view of the two former porters. Out of the corner of her eye, Leo caught Higgs giving her a side glance, smirking. She rolled her eyes, flipped him off, and grinned, trekking forward.

Higgs had to hand it to Leo, the girl had some real grit. It was one of the many reasons why he was smitten with her. She reminded him of himself, and she carried that spark in her that he had misplaced long ago. Higgs mused to himself, thinking about how she was helping him find that spark again. Life had a funny way of placing into his hands the very thing he never dared to dream would come into his life. He could still see his daddy sneering down at him, telling him all the lies that shattered his young child’s heart. The scars still remained, littering his body like constellations. Each one formed the story of a boy wincing at the sound of a cracking belt, a boy covering his face with his arms as tears silently fell, a boy tending to burn marks in the cover of the night. A boy that grew up believing he was as ugly and worthless as his daddy was.

Despite that, Higgs was starting to come around on the concept that maybe he wasn’t as ugly of a person as he was led to believe. If it were true, then why the hell would Leo be with him? Maybe she was batshit crazy to be with him, the thought had crossed his mind more than a few times. But regardless, he was happy that she chose to stick with him. He remembered the night that he finally revealed his scars to Leo, she held him close, placing gentle kisses on each one, eyelashes glistening with fragments of tears. He didn’t know what she saw in him, but he definitely knew what he saw in her. As Leo coughed, Higgs was brought back to the present moment as he focused his attention and realized that Leo’s orange eyes were peering curiously into his own blues.

“What’re you thinking about, babe? You’ve been staring off like that ever since we passed the hot springs.” Higgs smiled gently in response, then chuckled. “I’m thinking about the fuckin’ food I’ve been carrying on my back for the last half hour. I’m starving!”

Leo scowled at him, teasingly smacking his toned upper arm.

“Dammit, Higgs, didn’t you eat right before we left? Where the hell do you store all that food?”

Higgs turned a mischievous eye to her as he patted her head, the height difference becoming strikingly apparent.

“Well, darlin’, you tell me where you think I store it all.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re freakishly tall.”

“And it’s not mine that you’re adorably short. I’m so glad we’ve had this conversation, but now I’m gonna eat something.”

“No, Higgs, just-just wait a second! Look, that’s the spot right there!”

Leo quickened her pace just a little, walking down the slight hill to a spot next to the riverbank. Small, white flowers grew in the lush grass, giving the area an aura of safety. This portion of the valley hadn’t seen timefall for quite some time, yet had a consistent supply of river water, which led to a unique ecosystem developing. Fauna had begun to return to the valley floor, birds chirped in the taller grass, and small deer ran in the woods where Homo Demens had once declared their base. Higgs still shuttered to think about his time there, as infrequent as it was. Surrounded by men who were just as delusional as he had been, who sought to bring about the same thing he had wanted. As he glanced over to the woods with the ghosts of his past, he let out a sigh of relief knowing that they hadn’t succeeded in their goals. He never would have been here with Leo, watching life return to the mountain base. It almost reflected his own healing, and he wryly smirked at the thought.

____________________

The sun was setting as Leo and Higgs reveled at their picnic spread, the worn Bridges blanket hosting a multitude of food items. Higgs couldn’t even begin to figure out where Leo had sourced it all from. She stood there, hands on hips, grinning at the selection. She was resourceful, and Higgs knew that the local preppers gave her gifts on occasion, but some of the stuff was unheard of. Chocolate? Fresh fruit? Those words alone would have caused Mules to come running from across the region to have a go at claiming it as their own. A wave of satisfaction and pride spread throughout Higgs as he thought about his partner’s success, and the fact that she chose to share it with him. He knew he was one lucky bastard.

The meal consisted of attempts at trying to throw bits of food in each other’s mouths, a few delectable favorites hand fed to the other followed by laughter, and one episode of Leo rolling her eyes when Higgs blew right through an entire loaf of fresh bread that she had procured all the way from the Timefall Farm. The light in the sky changed from yellow to orange, and now bathed the valley in soft shades of lavender as mist slowly filled the basin. Leo gasped as the flicker of a firefly appeared near them, low to the grass, but unmistakable in its glow. One after the other appeared, and soon, Leo and Higgs were surrounded by a field of light. Higgs unwrapped his arms from where he had been holding Leo as they watched the light show, and leaned over to grab the unforgotten guitar from the case. He knew Leo had been waiting for this moment with much patience. Her bright eyes, made even more orange by the fireflies, flickered with anticipation.

“Now don’t get your hopes up. It’s been a long time since I’ve played one of these things, and, well…you never know.” Higgs messed with the tuning, strumming until he seemed satisfied, a peaceful smile washing over his face. Leo, despite his protestations, had always thought Higgs attractive. But now, here in his element, surrounded by the glow of the evening and hair falling over his face, with his blue eyes shining, she thought he was absolutely beautiful.

Higgs broke the silence with a hesitant strum, getting the feel for the strings, forming a melody. It was a full, warm sound, and reverberated in Leo’s heart. Higgs looked up at her as he played, beaming.

“It’s somethin’ I heard on the network the other day. I think you were humming to it, and it kinda reminded me of you.”

He continued playing, and Leo laid on her back, folding her hands underneath her head as she listened. The stars twinkled in the sky, something she would never take for granted after a lifetime of chiralium-filled skies.

“You are the answer to my question

You are my accomplice in a crime…”

Leo sat up and looked over at Higgs, a smile breaking out on her face as she processed that Higgs was singing to her. He was absolutely beaming as he sang, the happiest she had ever seen him.

“You are my wing woman and did I mention

We were together in another life?”

Higgs wasn’t one to vocally voice his emotions, Leo knew that. He showed them through actions, through caring touches, hands on the small of her back, fingers gently moving strands of hair, lips whispering on skin in the dark of the night. Leo was surprised when she felt drops fall on her arms. She hadn’t realized she was crying. Higgs looked up at her, eyes earnestly exploring her own. He held her gaze as he sang the next line.

“…in that dream, you probably were my wife.”

With a final strum, the notes gave way to the quiet noise of the night. Crickets chirped, wind gently caressed the two bodies, and the nearby stream bubbled. Higgs set the guitar down next to him on the blanket, and Leo could see he had a hint of blush on his cheeks. Leaning over, slowly and softly, Higgs reached out and caressed Leo’s face. Thumb running over her cheek, over her lips. He wanted to take in every bit of her that he could. Blue eyes met golden eyes, each hungrily taking the other’s features in. Higgs moved in closer until his nose brushed against hers, lips a breath away. Leo closed the distance, softly kissing him, brushing her fingers against his neck, then running them into his hair. He gave a hum of pleasure at the motion, and broke the kiss, only to rest his forehead against hers.

“Leo, I-I love you…I know I don’t say it much, but I do. I really fuckin’ do. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and…I don’t deserve you. I just don’t—“ Leo cut him off with a finger to his lips, eyes brimming with tears.

“Higgs, please….please listen to me. I want you to know that every morning, you’re the first thing I think about. When I open my eyes, you’re the only thing I want to see. At night, I want the feeling of you holding me to be what stays with me as I fall asleep.” Leo couldn’t stop the tears from flowing as she earnestly gazed into his eyes, and she gave a laugh amidst them. “I want to live a thousand lifetimes with you by my side, and….I never want anyone to take your place. Higgs Monaghan, I love you. I fucking love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are my everything.”

The next moment found Higgs and Leo tangled in one another, clothing rapidly abandoned. Tender hands grasping to bring the other closer still, lips writing their own unique love stories on skin. Hands running through hair, hands running down hips, hands staking claim on bodies that willingly offered. Passionate prayers left Higgs’ lips and spread to the sky, prayers offered up at the alter of Leo’s body. Higgs was by no means religious, but at that moment, he found god in the form of the woman gasping his name from underneath him.

___________________________

Lying under the stars with nothing between them and the balmy night air, the two wrapped up in the blanket. Leo rested her head in the crook of Higgs’ shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, placing his chin on the top of her head. The night was peaceful, and Leo had never felt safer than she did in Higgs’ embrace. The rise and fall of his chest, rhythmic and soothing, quickly lulled her to sleep. As he lie there, drowsily watching the stars twinkle and absentmindedly rubbing Leo’s shoulder, he thought about how his life led him to this point. How this woman, making soft sighs as she slept, accepted him and loved him with an incredible fierceness, showing him a facet of life he had never known. In that moment, as night in the valley settled and he drifted off to sleep, Higgs knew that for the first time ever, he had a long life to look forward to.

[thishintoflove]

‘tis the damn season - A Narcos Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 3

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings: 18 + Explicit (Language, P/V sex, Car sex), 2.4k words of angsty smut

Summary: You and Javi are former high school sweethearts who occasionally meet up when you’re both back in town. Inspired by Texas!Javi from season 3 episode 1 of Narcos.

A/N: Thank you very much for reading this series and reblogging/commenting/liking, etc. I appreciate it so much!

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me

But if it's all the same to you

It's the same to me

You called him the night after Christmas. Your parents were in bed, your sister and nephews had returned home, and you were alone on the couch at your parents’ house.

You knew he was home for the holidays too. You’d seen him at Mass the day before last. He’d caught your eye as he passed by your family’s pew, walking quietly beside his father who seemed to stop and greet every person they passed. He gave you a small nod before moving on.

When you’d first caught a glimpse of him, you thought that maybe you were over it. Maybe you didn’t need him this time. Maybe the two of you could be in this damn town at the same time and not fall into old habits.

But now you're lonely and you're calling your ex high school sweetheart the day after Christmas, asking to meet up for old times sake.

“Javi…” you whispered into the landline when you heard him pick up.

“Want to meet at the usual spot?”

No greeting. He knew it was you. He knew what you were calling for. It’s been your pattern for so many years now.

“I…” you hesitate for a moment, but you knew you weren’t going to change your mind. It was too late and you needed him, even if you tried to convince yourself you didn’t. “Yeah, the usual spot.”

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Look for my dad’s truck.”

And it always leads to you in my hometown

I parkеd my car right between the Methodist

And thе school that used to be ours

The first thing you did after you hopped into the passenger seat of the truck was kiss him. Javi reached forward to cup the sides of your face, kissing you back just as desperately. His mustache scraped the sensitive skin around your mouth but you didn’t care. It felt like coming home.

Your back protested as you leaned across the console. You were too old for this. He was too old for this. But this was the way when it came to the two of you.

You moaned into his mouth as he bit your lip and his hands slipped down to caress your sides. Javi moved away from your lips and trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw, and then your neck. You gasped as he found the sensitive spot below your ear, your nails digging into his shoulders as he sucked. You couldn’t help the way you squirmed in your seat, desperate for more friction.

In high school you used to kiss like this on any available surface. Against the lockers, on the bleachers, in your childhood bedroom, in the older model of his dad’s truck. You were always searching for a place to be alone and explore each others’ bodies. Sometimes it felt like nothing had really changed.

The holidays linger like bad perfume

You can run, but only so far

I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

But if it's okay with you, it's okay with me

Laredo, Texas called you home for the holidays and you showed up like the dutiful daughter you were. Los Angeles wasn’t that far, comparatively, but you didn’t like the feelings that your hometown created in you. The expectations. The traditions. The disappointment.

He was back from Columbia, on his once-per-year-at-best visit. He always had to one-up you. You were considered a rebel for running off to LA to pursue a journalism career. But he went so far as to leave the country.

And maybe that’s why you continued to be drawn to one another. Laredo was a living time capsule to the two of you. It grew and changed for the people who lived there, but to you it will always be the place where you grew up dreaming of someplace else. So when you came back, you sought out the few things that hadn’t changed. He was familiar and safe, and even if he only lived in Laredo in your heart, it felt good to know you had someone waiting here for you when you came back.

Javi’s hand on your breast pulled you back to the present. You got the message and yanked your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. His eyes darkened as he stared at your chest before capturing your lips once more. You could feel his grin as he easily popped the clasp on your bra and used one large hand to massage your breast, the other tangling in your hair. It was hot and desperate, and you couldn’t contain the moan that escaped as he tweaked your nipple.

“God, Javi, that feels amazing,” you gasped, your nerves tingling at all the sensations. It’s been longer than you care to admit since you had a man in bed and you were already embarrassingly wet. Javi knew all of your quirks and special spots, and he was all but guaranteed to make you see stars every time.

He pulled away for a moment to pull the lever on his seat, pushing it back as far as it would go before grasping at you. You didn’t hesitate-- you climbed over the center console to sit in his lap and immediately crushed your lips together again. He was already rock hard against your thigh so at least you weren’t the only one in danger of coming as quickly as you did as teenagers.

You ground your hips down against him, earning a loan groan as he squeezed your thighs with both hands. You fumbled with his belt as he slipped your jeans down. He slid one finger inside you, then another, working you open gently but efficiently. You moaned and dropped your head to his shoulder as you thrust against his hand. You let your own hands wander across his shoulders and the expanse of his back.

We could call it even

You could call me babe for the weekend

I'm stayin' at my parents' house

And the road not taken looks real good now

His body was achingly familiar, even with the changes caused by stress and time. His arms and his back were still muscled and his shoulders were as broad as ever, but his middle had softened and he had a bit of a tummy now. There were a few more wrinkles at the corners of his eyes than last time and there was a hint of grey in the stubble on his cheeks. But it didn’t matter. You were older and softer too. His eyes were the same deep chocolate brown as they always had been and he still moaned the same way when you tugged at the softly curled hair at the base of his skull.

You didn’t keep meeting him because you expected to see the same bright eyed, strapping boy of your youth. Even decades later, you wanted Javi because he was… well because he was Javi. And even if you only spoke a few times a year now, there was something about his presence that felt like coming home.

"God baby, the things I want to do to you..." he rasped, pulling back to look at you for a moment with lust darkened eyes.

You shushed him and leaned forward to capture his mouth again. You slipped a hand down to free him from his boxer briefs, giving him a quick tug that sent his eyes rolling back in his head. Before you could guide him in, he reached a hand down,

"Condom?" he ground out, glancing up at you from under his dark lashes. You cursed and reached back to the passenger seat for your purse and pulled one out. You handed it to him and slid back towards his knees as he fumbled with the packet.

"Hurry up. Need you now," you murmured, tugging at his ear with your teeth.

“Fuck,” he swore, finally rolling the damn thing on.

You grinned and pushed your hips down on him, eliciting a deep groan. He slipped inside, letting you have a moment to adjust before giving a shallow thrust. Soon you were moving in tandem, two bodies so familiar with each other that you didn’t need to speak.

Javi set a fast pace, driving into you hard and deep. “You’re so wet for me. Always are,” he told you between grunts, “What did I do to deserve you, baby?”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” you moaned back. You put your hands on his chest, giving yourself leverage to twist as you moved up and down.

Javi gripped your hips tightly and you knew you’d have bruises later but you didn’t care. Your breathing picked up in time with his thrusts, and soon you could feel the pressure building deep inside your core. He slipped a hand down and rubbed your clit, and after only a few more thrusts you were undone. Your orgasm crashed over you and you cried out as your muscles clenched around him. You could tell he was close too as his thrusts became more erratic. Still reveling in the aftershocks, you leaned down and whispered in his ear, “cum for me, Javi”, and like a magic word he obeyed. He grunted as he spilled into the condom, pulling you close and then collapsing back against the seat.

You both lay still for a moment, letting your breathing return to normal. You reached up and brushed some stray hairs off his sweaty forehead before turning and resting your head against his shoulder. He buried his face in your hair and sighed. He mumbled something, but you were too blissed out and tired to tell what it was.

I wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm fakin'

And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own

To leave the warmest bed I've ever known

You remember being in high school. Being in love for the first time. Having sex for the first time.

Javier was your first in so many ways. You weren’t the type of girl to dream about your big white wedding, but you truly believed you loved him.

But as graduation crept near, the claustrophobia set in. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t you. It was both of you-- the pair of you were too similar. The world was so much bigger than Laredo and you both knew it. You were both too practical for your own good. So you left for journalism school in California, and he took a different, more dangerous path.

You couldn’t help but think about the road not taken as you rested against his sweaty chest. Javi surprised you by speaking first.

“You’re the only good part about coming back here, cariño.”

You pulled back to look at him, “That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah? You think I come back to Laredo to shop at strip malls and drink watered down margaritas?” he scoffed.

“You come back to see your father. I know how much you love him, even if you’re not as close as you were,” you replied, absentmindedly tracing his jaw with one finger, “And don’t try to pretend that you come back here just for me.”

Javi caught your hand in his own, brought it up to his lips, and gave the inside of your wrist a small kiss.

“Maybe you’re not the only reason,“ he said, “But you’re certainly a contributing factor. I love seeing you.”

It was always like this with Javi. It was easy to daydream about a future together when you were face to face-- in your post-coital haze, everything sounded so good and so easy. But you knew the truth.

He was lonely. You were lonely. And in the light of day, it would never work.

Once again you thought about how similar you were. Your careers were your first priority and you both solved your loneliness with casual sex. It could never be the other way around. Neither of you would be content with a quiet, domestic life.

“I like catching up with you too, Javi,” you replied, leaning in to press one more kiss to his lips, “But tomorrow we’re both going to catch a plane to very different places, and all of this will be a distant memory.”

You pulled away and slid back over to the passenger seat of the truck, feeling cold.

We could call it even

Even though I'm leavin'

And I'll be yours for the weekend

'Tis the damn season

You tried not to look at him as you adjusted your shirt and buttoned your pants, but you could feel him watching you. The windows were down and a slight breeze blew through the truck, but your goosebumps weren’t due to the cool night wind. You finally looked up at him again.

“What?” you asked. He blinked at you and then glanced down, focusing on re-buttoning his shirt.

“When’s the next time you’ll be in town?”

“Probably not until the summer, at the earliest. When will you be back? Two years from now?” you answered, rolling your eyes.

His silence answered your question and you knew him well enough to guess that he had no plans to come back here anytime soon. You tried not to think about the fact that he could die half a world away in the span of time before you might possibly see each other again. Worrying about Javier was the last thing you needed and you reminded yourself that he wasn’t really yours to worry about.

He was going back to Columbia and you had to focus on your career. You had your own life to live.

You hated how small your voice sounded when you finally spoke again. “What if I said that this is the last time?”

Javi let out a humorless chuckle, “You say that every time, baby.”

“I mean it, Javi. Maybe next year I’ll have a real boyfriend. Maybe I’ll get married on a whim-- do the whole ‘settling down’ thing.”

Javi hummed and reached over to brush your hair off your face. “If you’re married by the time I see you again, I promise I won’t say anything except ‘hello’ and ‘congratulations’.”

He pressed a light kiss to your temple before pulling away.

“But if you’re not married,” he continued, “I’ll meet you right here. Same spot. Same time.”

And who were you to disagree with Javier Peña?

[deja-you]

times new roman | episode seven

t. jefferson x reader

summary: Y/n needs a date. Thomas would be more than happy to oblige. 

word count: 2.9k

trailer | previous | next 

Y/n’s mouth hung open as she stared at the snapchat of her and Jefferson from the night before. What had happened? She tried remembering the previous night, but was met with a terrible headache instead. Looking down, she saw that she was wearing a t-shirt that was most definitely not hers. 

She wasn’t given much more time to panic The bedroom door opened, and Y/n flinched at the light that was being let into the room.

“Morning, angel. How are you feeling? This is for you.” 

Thomas sat next to her on the side of the bed and handed her a tall glass of water. She muttered a ‘thanks’ and downed the water in a matter of seconds. Y/n took a moment to take Thomas in. He was dressed for work already, making Y/n feel even more self-conscious of her state of undress. 

“What happened last night? I can’t remember much. Did we...?” 

The previous evening, Y/n had not been enjoying the gala. She had given up on hiding in her dad’s office when he sent off a few texts asking where she was. Now Y/n had resigned to lurk around the ballroom, hiding behind ice sculptures (where had they even gotten those?) and pillars in an attempt to avoid anyone and everyone. 

Unfortunately, she couldn’t avoid everyone forever. 

“Y/n, there you are!” Angelica grabbed her arm and pulled her in for a hug. 

When she was released, Y/n had the time to soak in Angelica. God damn, did that girl know how to dress. Y/n couldn’t help but admire how good Angelica looked, the glittering fabric of her dress hugging her body in flattering ways.

“Angelica, if things don’t work out for you and Mr. Church, you know how to find me,” Y/n smirked. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Angelica couldn’t help but laugh. “Where have you been? This is my first time seeing you tonight.”

Y/n shrugged. “Oh, you know. I’ve just been... around.”

Angelica raised an eyebrow. “Have you not been enjoying George Washington’s extravaganza? It’s only the biggest party of the year, don’t you know?”

“Dad always goes overboard with his party planning, doesn’t he?” Y/n rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Washington is so serious all year, let your old man have some fun. Besides, who doesn’t love a big party?” Y/n made a face, and nodded in realization. “Ah, right. You. You don’t love a big party.”

“Just not my scene, okay? But dad gets so excited about it, so I don’t mind too much.” 

“So what, a party’s not your scene? No big deal. At the least, you can enjoy the free booze.” Angelica grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Y/n.

That would be Y/n’s mantra for the rest of the night. Free booze. She had no classes tomorrow and nothing planned. What was the worst that could happen?

Angelica muttered something about ‘that idiot Hamilton’ and apologized briefly to Y/n before making her way across the ballroom. Y/n’s soft sigh was drowned out by the exceptionally sleazy jazz music Washington had picked out for the evening. The swinging notes of the saxophone had Y/n buzzing and feeling warm inside. Or maybe that was the alcohol. She looked down at the already drained glass in her grip. It was definitely the alcohol. Relishing the feeling, Y/n gave her empty glass to a passing server and replacing it with another.

“Isn’t it a little early in the evening to be getting drunk?”

Y/n pulled the glass away from her lips. She would recognize that voice anywhere, it had been haunting her thoughts for the last week. What did she have to do to blissfully enjoy a glass of champagne by herself?

“Mr. Jefferson.” Y/n whipped her head around to face him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Back to this ‘Mr. Jefferson’ nonsense, are we?”

The frown on his face was the only unpleasant thing about his appearance. Sure, Y/n wanted some time alone, but she couldn’t deny that Thomas looked good. The way his tailored suit showed off his toned arms, mm -- Y/n was getting distracted. She regained her composure, but not before Thomas noticed. 

“See something you like, angel?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips pulling up into a smirk.

Her skin felt warm, and she had to look away so he wouldn’t see the impact he had on her. “Not particularly.”

She looked at him, then at the bed, and the over-sized t-shirt she was wearing. Thankfully, he understood what she was insinuating.

“Oh! No. No, we didn’t. Trust me, if we had, you would have remembered.”

Y/n groaned and buried her head in his pillow.

“Bad hangover?” He asked.

“No, I just can’t stand you.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night.”

She gripped his pillow -- was that satin? -- and threw it lazily in his direction. “How much did I drink last night? What did I do?”

“Well, not me.”

“Oh. My. God. Can you stop with the innuendos?”

Thomas chuckled. “Sorry, angel.”

“Stop calling me that. It’s sweet and endearing. I don’t like how it makes me feel.”

“Alright, princess.”

“That’s worse. So much worse. Never ever call me that again.” She refused to meet his eyes, knowing he was wearing that stupid grin. “So what exactly happened? I can’t be held accountable for my actions, just want to put that out there. I was so wasted.”

“You want me to start from the beginning?”

“No, no. I remember the beginning. That part I remember. I remember glasses of champagne, and then I remember you approaching me.” She pointed an accusatory finger at his chest. “And then the rest is blurry.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her carefully. Did she really not remember anything? How much was he required to tell her, and how much did she really need to hear?

“Well, I was trying to have a perfectly cordial conversation with you. Apparently you must’ve found what I was saying boring, because the next thing I knew, you were dragging me to the photo booth,” he informed her.

“The photo booth?” She repeated. Memories of bright flashing lights came back to her. She gasped and moved her hand to cover her mouth when she remembered the snapchat Peggy had sent her earlier. “No.”

“So you remember?”

“Vaguely. Did we...?” The words felt heavy in her throat. “Did we kiss?”

“You kissed me.”

“Remind me not to get that drunk ever again.”

“Well, you’ve kissed me when you were sober, too. Just thought I’d remind you.” 

“Don’t. Don’t remind me. Can you just finish telling me what happened last night?”

The photo booth was empty. Everyone had gathered around the stage to listen to Washington give his big speech. Y/n had heard him practice the speech nearly a dozen times and she was certain she’d be able to give it herself at this point. Because of this, she felt no need to listen to his speech again.

“You’re going to be my best friend for the evening,” Y/n said. She noticed that her voice was an octave higher than it usually was, probably due to her alcohol intake.

Thomas raised his eyebrows as she dragged him into the photo booth. “Why’s that, angel? Aren’t your friends at this party?”

“Sure, but you just happened to be around at the right time.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be. Also, we look great together,” Y/n pointed out.

“That why we’re in the photo booth? So you can document how great we look together?”

She nodded eagerly. “Obviously. Now look cute for the picture, or I’ll have to find a new bff.”

“We can’t have that.”

The numbers on the screen began counting down. 

Three.

Thomas slung his arm around Y/n’s shoulders and pulled her tightly to his side. 

Two.

Y/n was a little surprised at how natural the action felt. 

One.

Thomas stuck out his tongue, Y/n leaned against him and grinned widely. A bright flash.

“That’s a good one,” Thomas said.

“Shh, we don’t have time! The next photo is coming up.”

“What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” she said frantically, “fake laugh!”

They both began to laugh unnecessarily loudly, eyes bright. Another flash. 

“What’s your plan for this next one, angel?” 

Y/n looked over at him. Thomas still had his arm wrapped around her, and their noses would touch if he moved his head just slightly. Wrinkles formed at the corner of his eyes as he grinned down at her. 

“Just go with it, okay?” 

“With wh--”

The screen finished its countdown, and Y/n gently grabbed his cheek and guided his lips to hers. A flash. 

Neither of them were concerned about the countdown after that. Thomas’s hands found their way to her lower back and he pulled her onto his lap. Y/n had one arm draped around his shoulder, the other hand was laced through his hair. It was a sweet, delicate moment between the two of the. The kind of scene that would fit nicely in a rom-com with Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer playing softly in the background. Neither of them knew how many countdowns and flashes had occurred by the time they finally parted from each other.

Breathlessly, Thomas asked, “is this what you do with all your best friends?”

Y/n threw back her head and laughed for real this time. “Only the ones that look like you. Now c’mon, let’s get out of here.”

She flung open the photo booth curtain and Thomas followed after. Y/n was making a beeline for the door when Thomas grabbed her arm and stopped her. She turned around to give him a confused look.

“Angel, I know you’re in a rush to get out of here, but do you think we could stay for one dance?” He asked with pleading eyes.

Y/n paused to consider. An old blues song was playing, and if Y/n was just a little more sober, she would have been able to recognize the tune. Still, she decided she liked it.

“Okay. One song. But I’m not going out onto that dance floor.”

“Of course not. Why dance on the dance floor when there’s a perfectly secluded spot on the other side of the coat closet?”

“Mr. Jefferson.” She bit her lip and drew out his name. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

He laughed and led her to their own personal dance floor. “Y’know what? I’ve changed my mind. You can call me whatever you want if you do it in that voice.”

“Oh yeah? That’s good. I have a large amount of choice names for you,” Y/n quipped, allowing Thomas to slip an arm around her waist, his other hand laced through her fingers. 

“I’m sure you do, angel,” he hummed. “I’m sure you do.”

They swayed to the quiet music. Y/n couldn’t help but admire everything about Thomas, and if she wasn’t drunk she would have had a lot more restraint, or at least, a lot more shame.

“Anyone ever tell you you have beautiful eyes?”

“They’re just brown, Y/n.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not beautiful. You probably look great with glasses on.”

“Oh, I do.”

Y/n smiled softly, closed her eyes, and rested her head on his chest. There was a peaceful contentedness about dancing (if you could even call it dancing) alone together behind the coat closet. There were words that went unspoken in the intervals between seconds. They didn’t need to be spoken. 

“Angel?”

“Hmm?”

“The song’s over,” Thomas said softly.

“Already?”

“Already,” he repeated. “Ready to get out of here?”

“More than ready,” she sighed. 

They parted from each other enough to walk, but for all purposes, they were still very much intwined. Thomas had almost got her out the door when Y/n stopped in her tracks. Thomas was forced to stop, and he turned around to see that Y/n had stopped to grab another glass of some alcoholic drink from a waiter.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve had enough to drink, Y/n.” Thomas was exasperated.

She held up a finger and drained the rest of her drink. “You can never have too much to drink.”

“Yes, you can,” Thomas insisted. “It’s called alcohol poisoning.”

“Just let me have my fun!”

He cocked his head to the side and considered her for a moment. “Have you had anything to eat this evening?”

“I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Good lord, Y/n. If you die, Mr. Washington is going to blame me. You need to be taking better care of yourself. Come on, let’s find you something to eat.”

They finally made it out onto the street, and after a good fifteen minutes of searching for a place to eat, Thomas settled on a soft pretzel stand, seeing that nothing else was open at the time. Thomas paid for the pretzels, handed one to Y/n, and concluded that the pretzel was most definitely not soft. It was dry and tasted like cardboard, but he bit back any complaints. 

Thomas and Y/n walked aimlessly through the streets of New York while they ate their pretzels. Neither felt the need to fill the silence, they were both satisfied with the other’s company. 

“So what are our plans for the rest of the night?” Y/n said with a yawn.

“The rest of the night? I have work in the morning.” He glanced over at her. “I should get you a cab, huh?”

“A cab? If you’re going to buy me a car, I’d prefer something like a Tesla.”

“What? No. I meant-- Look, angel. It’s late. I should get you home.”

“Home? No thanks, I’m good.”

“Would you please just cooperate with me?” He sighed, tilting his head back. The street sign caught his eye. Thomas took a minute to consider his options. “Y’know what? We’re only a few blocks away from my place.”

Y/n clicked her tongue and tilted her head to the side. “Thomas Jefferson, are you asking me to come home with you?”

“Yes. Wait. Not like that.” He shook his head. “C’mon. It’s not safe out here and you’re too drunk to get home by yourself.”

“Whatever you say.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and began to lead her back to his apartment building. The walk was slow, Y/n wasn’t exactly in the kind of state to run a marathon. She stumbled along the sidewalk, only staying upright because Thomas had an arm around her to catch her every time she tripped. On the elevator ride up, Y/n rested her head on his shoulder and he thought she would fall asleep right then and there. 

Finally they made it into his apartment. Y/n was too drunk to admire the sleek and elegant kitchen they walked into, but she would definitely notice it the next morning. When Thomas closed the door behind him, Y/n reached behind her and unzipped her dress, letting the dark fabric fall to the floor. 

“Welcome to m-- what do you think you’re doing?” His mouth hung open, and he did his best not to let his eyes drop below her eyes. 

“Getting more comfortable.” She shrugged, taking a few steps forward and running her hands over his tie. “I think you’d be more comfortable, too, if you took off a few layers.”

He swallowed roughly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Thomas, I want you. Don’t you want me, too?” She had a hurt expression on her face, and Thomas had to force himself to look away from her wide eyes.

“Angel, I want you more than you know, believe me. But you don’t really want this,” he told her.

Y/n frowned. “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“You’re not in the right headspace to be making these decisions. As much as I want you, I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.” He was convincing himself just as much as he was convincing Y/n. Why did she have to be so tempting?

As if to remind him just how drunk she was, Y/n’s legs gave out beneath her and Thomas was lucky to catch her before she hit the ground. 

“You’re a mess,” he mumbled, slipping one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her back, Thomas picked her up.

“A mess for you.”

“I-- what? That... that doesn’t even make sense.” Thomas tried not to think too much in depth about that while he carried her to his room. 

He laid her down gently on the bed, and it seemed she almost immediately forgot about any intentions of having sex with him when she ran her hands over the softness of his bedsheets. Thomas sighed in relief, moved to open one of the drawers in his bedroom, and retrieved an old college t-shirt of his.

“Here, put this on.” He tossed the shirt to Y/n. Thankfully, she put it on without any further arguments. Thomas mentally noted how good she looked in his college t-shirt. Good luck getting that image out of your head tonight, Thomas. He shut his eyes firmly and took a step in the direction of his living room couch. Thomas hesitated at the door, giving her one more glance. “Goodnight, angel.”

“Wait, Thomas?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Thomas’s breath caught in his throat. He shook his head, she didn’t mean any of what she was saying. “Y/n, you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, I know,” her words were slurred. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

tags: @dovesgrangers @lovelymrvl  @wiffle-snuffles @thisistrashperson @comingupwithacoolnameishard @wordvomit-foryourmind @newtonslawoffuck @isharemydeathdaywithfeanor @i-know-i-can @imperial-martian @fangirling-central @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera @justahappylilblog @fanfic-addict-98 @a-hopeless-fan @and-claudia @nicolemelton @youtxbemusic @reidcult @eirenism @fantasy-of-fiction @iamsuperconfusedallthetime-dead @a-midwinter-night-dream-86 @rycbar-221b @bethanymccauley @fanworrior @gggamingz @nemesis729 @ibeaesthethicc  @yodas-padawan @sabbrriiinnaa @micaiahmoonheart @beautifulfound @moondustmemories @ct-salad @teenwaywardasgardian @bj-is-a-graduateof-julliard @ruebx @katierpblogg @speedypartyducksuitcase @fangirling-central @idkkbaleighh @ballerinafairyprincess @spn-pogues @gryffin-claw @elegantbutedgy @1elysium @sierraisnotreal @ssanjuniperoo @collectivefandom @lilbabyhoneypot @lunariasilver @justcallmemama @atleastidontdotiktoks @mistrose23 @checkurwindow @fluffydmonkey @pettyjayy @rosesinmars @cubedtriangle @itsjube @zeelmol @ems-alexandra @yavin4andor

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