#i think it's the 'main vocal curse'

[marauroon]

𝟏 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟎𝟎 — 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑. (𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧)

lily forces her help on james after discovering an unsent letter he wrote to you at the end of last year. it doesn’t exactly go as planned.

CW | characters are 17-18, lily is the best wingman, banter on banter, MDNI AFTER A CERTAIN POINT (there is a separate warning before it begins)

james potter x fem!reader | 18.7k | series masterlist.

main masterlist.

AN | and so, 1-100 comes to an end, thank you so much to everyone who’s kept up with reading and supporting this series, i love you guys sm !! 🫶

There’s something about stepping back into the Great Hall after a summer away that always makes your stomach twist.

Maybe it’s the grandeur of it—four long house tables glittering under a sky enchanted to mirror the fading twilight—or maybe it’s the realisation that this is it. Seventh year. Your last first feast at Hogwarts. You glance around at the familiar faces, older now, and think how quickly everything’s changed, and how much it hasn't at all.

The Gryffindor table is buzzing, voices overlapping as friends greet each other, chatter about summer holidays, and sneak wary glances at the staff table where the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is already under intense scrutiny. You sit between Lily and Dorcas, with Marlene just opposite, her chin in her hand as she eyes the new teacher with suspicious intensity.

“I’m giving him a two weeks before he loses his temper,” Marlene says, not even blinking. “One, if he’s already had a mental breakdown before arriving,”

“You’re just bitter because Professor Lome never liked your essays,” Dorcas points out, stealing a bread roll from the centre plate before anyone else can. “He gave me full marks on that piece about curse detection,”

You’re half-listening, mostly looking around the room. It’s the same as ever, and yet not. Everyone’s taller. Slightly leaner. Tired in that way only seventeen-year-olds on the cusp of adulthood can be. The weight of NEWTs, of future plans, of knowing this is your last go at all of it.

The buzz of the hall dies down as Professor McGonagall stands at the staff table. The sorting ceremony has already taken place—little first-years blinking up at the ceiling, clutching their house badges like lifelines—and now it’s time for the usual announcements.

“Welcome back, students, to another year at Hogwarts. A particular welcome to our first-years, who I hope will find these halls as challenging and rewarding as the generations before them,”

You tune out a bit as she goes through the basics: forbidden forest is still forbidden, Zonko’s products are still banned, and any students caught brewing illegal potions will be given detention and a strongly worded letter home.

Then, she straightens, and there's a tiny spark in her eye that sets everyone leaning forward.

“And now, I’m pleased to announce this year’s Head Boy and Head Girl of Gryffindor. A pair who will, I trust, represent the house and the student body with diligence and pride. Please join me in congratulating Lily Evans and James Potter.”

Silence.

Then—

“What?” Dorcas shrieks before she can stop herself, hand flying to cover her mouth.

Lily’s face is a perfect blend of composed and internally screaming. You can see it in the way she holds her posture just a touch too rigidly, in the slight widening of her eyes.

A few seats down, James has frozen. Mid-sip of pumpkin juice. You think he might choke on it.

The hall erupts in applause, mostly polite, some genuine. The Gryffindor table is particularly vocal—Sirius is cheering obnoxiously loud, Remus is clapping with amused restraint, and Peter looks like someone just told him Christmas has come early.

“Head Boy?” Marlene mouths, turning to stare at you and Lily like you’ve both gone mad. “Him?”

You glance at Lily, who is clearly experiencing an existential crisis in real-time.

James slowly sets his goblet down. “I—what?” he says weakly. “Me?”

“I… wasn’t told,” Lily says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I knew I got Head Girl, McGonagall owled me over the summer, but—him?”

You smother a laugh. “You okay, Lils?”

She glares at you. “No.”

James, for his part, finally seems to have processed the information. He sits a little straighter, shoulders back, trying for composed but mostly looking like he might be sick.

“I’m already Quidditch Captain,” he mutters to Sirius, who slaps him on the back with far too much enthusiasm.

“You’ll be brilliant,” Sirius grins. “Just think—power, responsibility, and even more excuses to boss people around.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “You do realise it’s actual work, right? Prefect meetings, patrols, schedules…”

James pales slightly. “Bloody hell,”

You and the girls settle back into your seats as the feast begins properly. Food appears across the tables in a shimmer of golden light, and the scent of roast chicken and buttered potatoes fills the air. For a while, everyone’s distracted—eating, catching up, stealing sips of pumpkin juice between bites. The announcement lingers in the air though, rippling down the table in whispered disbelief and mild chaos.

You poke at your roasties, thoughts elsewhere. You’re happy for Lily—Head Girl is so her. She’s meticulous, clever, endlessly fair. But James? It’s not that he’s a bad student—he’s clever when he applies himself—but his reputation precedes him. Pranks. Detentions. A casual disregard for rules that somehow charmed most of the school and irritated the rest. You look down the table to where he’s now loudly panicking about his term planner.

“He’s actually worried about having too much to do,” Marlene says, eyebrows raised. “Is this a new personality shift or did he hit his head over the summer?”

“He’ll be fine,” Dorcas says through a mouthful of carrots. “Maybe this’ll actually knock the arrogance out of him. Or at least make him too busy to be annoying,”

Lily just stabs a pea with unnecessary force. “I’m going to murder Dumbledore.”

You snort, covering it with a cough. “Think of it this way—you get to boss him around,”

“Please,” she says dryly, “he’ll talk about the Marauders and Quidditch and I’ll be asleep by the third sentence,”

You laugh properly at that, and the sound feels good. Light. Familiar.

Marlene leans closer, dropping her voice. “Anyway, more important question—have you had any more letters?”

You blink. It takes you a second to realise what she’s referring to.

“Oh,” you say, slowly. “No. Not since the last one. You know, the one I got right before term ended,”

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that means they’re all about to jump in.

“You’ve still got them, don’t you?” Dorcas says, eyes narrowing.

“Of course she does,” Lily says before you can speak. “She practically laminated the bloody things,”

You shove her shoulder with yours. “I did not. I just… kept them. They were nice,”

“Nice?” Marlene repeats. “They were poetry. Like, actual effort. Not ‘fancy you, meet me in the broom cupboard’—actual, personal, stupidly romantic letters,”

Dorcas sighs dreamily. “Still can’t believe we never figured out who it was. No hints? Nothing?”

You shake your head, and try not to let your disappointment show too much. “They just… stopped. That last one before summer hols—it was like a goodbye. Like they didn’t know what else to add,”

“Bit tragic,” Lily says softly, and despite her sarcasm earlier, you hear the real sympathy in it.

You shrug, reaching for a second helping of Yorkshire pudding to hide the sudden ache in your chest. “I don’t know. It’s stupid. I didn’t even know who they were,”

“But they knew you,” Dorcas says. “Really well, apparently,”

The words make something twist inside you. Because she’s right.

Whoever they were, they did know you. The letters had come at your lowest points last year—when the pressure of coursework, the drama with Severus, and everything else felt like too much. Each letter had felt like a lifeline, like someone reaching across the void just to remind you that you weren’t invisible.

You miss that. You miss them.

“I just thought maybe,” you say quietly, “there’d be another one waiting. When we got back,”

The silence around your little corner of the table grows thick with understanding. No one says anything for a moment. Then Lily bumps your knee under the table.

“Well,” she says, with the kind of finality only she can manage, “maybe they’re just waiting for the right time,”

You nod, but you don’t believe it. Not really.

The conversation moves on. Marlene brings up the new Hogsmeade permission rules (apparently no more ‘mysterious illnesses’ to get out of going—thanks to a Slytherin who faked being poisoned last year). Dorcas starts planning the best window seat in the common room for her study spot, and Lily starts stress-talking about her NEWT timetable.

But your thoughts don’t quite leave the letters.

You wonder where they are now—your mystery writer. If they’re even still thinking about you. If they’re watching you across the Great Hall, debating whether or not to start again.

You hope so.

Even if you don’t say it out loud, not even to Lily.

Even if you’re pretending not to look toward the other end of the table for who it might be.

—

It becomes a weekly ritual. Every Wednesday night, Lily Evans storms back into the Gryffindor common room around ten-thirty, throws herself onto the armchair closest to the fire, and launches into a detailed monologue about the trials and tribulations of patrolling the corridors with James Potter.

And every Wednesday night, you, Marlene, and Dorcas do your best not to laugh too obviously.

“He just won’t shut up,” Lily declares one evening, halfway through untangling her scarf from her hair. “Every corridor, every stairwell, it’s Quidditch this, Marauders that—and not even mildly interesting Marauder tales. No, no. Apparently Sirius once managed to transfigure a Slytherin’s tie into a snake and got away with it by pretending it was a defence demonstration. That’s what I have to listen to for two hours,”

Dorcas, stretched out on the rug with a textbook balanced on her stomach, snorts. “Honestly, sounds like quality entertainment,”

“You do realise he’s trying to impress you, right?” Marlene adds, not looking up from her Ancient Runes homework.

Lily looks personally offended. “By telling me about how many nosebleeds they’ve collectively caused in the name of house pride?”

“Maybe he thinks violence is your love language,” Dorcas offers with a shrug.

You laugh softly but say nothing. Lily rolls her eyes and turns to you, as she often does.

“You would die. Honestly. You should swap with me sometime just to understand the suffering.”

“I’m not a prefect,” you remind her, amused.

She huffs. “Tragic. You’d actually hold a decent conversation. Meanwhile, I’ve learnt the entire 1974 Quidditch Cup roster twice, and I don’t even like Quidditch,”

Still, she doesn’t ask for a trade from any of the actual prefects. And despite the complaints, she never actually seems to loathe their time together—frustrated, yes. Exhausted, absolutely. But somewhere beneath it all is a sort of resigned affection she doesn’t quite admit to.

You often sit by the fire after she’s done ranting, book in your lap, mind somewhere else entirely.

Because while Lily battles James's endless rambling about goal strategies and prank logistics, your thoughts drift to the letters again and again.

You miss them.

More than you like to admit.

Even now, months after the last one, you still half-expect to find something tucked inside your Transfiguration book. Or a note slid under your pillow. That hopeful little ache has never quite gone away. You know it’s silly—it’s been so long, it’s probably over—but that connection, however brief and anonymous, was something you’d never really had before.

Whoever wrote those letters saw parts of you you didn’t think anyone noticed. They wrote like they knew what you needed to hear before you even knew it yourself.

And now… it’s just silence.

—

It’s late December when Lily finds it. Just a few days shy of the Christmas Holidays, when the castle starts to shift into that enchanted, warm glow of the holidays. Wreaths bloom along the walls, garlands wrap the banisters, and the air smells faintly of cinnamon and woodsmoke.

It’s snowing outside, but the halls are still humming with end-of-term energy—homework, holiday plans, and whispered excitement about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend.

Lily’s rifling through James Potter’s satchel.

To be fair, she asked him where the patrol rota was, and he told her—somewhere in his bag. He’s halfway through an apple and elbow-deep in a discussion with Remus about whether or not the Gryffindor team needs a strategy change after Christmas.

She pulls out quills, broken Sugar Quill sticks, crumpled bits of paper, at least two spare ties, and—at the very bottom—a small, folded piece of parchment.

Gold foil.

Your name on the front.

She freezes.

It’s unmistakable. The handwriting is the same elegant, slanted script you used to show them, the same ink, the same careful fold. But this letter has never reached you.

Her eyes widen. Her breath catches.

She looks up at James.

Still talking.

Still completely unaware that in one careless second, he’s just given everything away.

Lily takes the letter. Quietly. Carefully. She tucks it into her robe pocket and says nothing. Not yet.

But she watches him all night. She watches the way his gaze flickers towards you sometimes across the common room. The way he gets unusually quiet when your name comes up.

Later that night, in the corridor outside the common room, she pounces.

“James.”

He jumps. “Bloody—Evans, you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She crosses her arms. “I need to ask you something,”

“Okay…?”

She pulls the letter from her pocket.

He stops breathing.

“Is this yours?”

He tries—tries—to play dumb.

“I—uh—never seen that before in my life.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“No? Oh well, guess i’ll deliver it myself then,”

The way James snatches the letter from her hands you’d think it was his lifeline. It kind of was. “Don’t you dare—”

She doesn’t say anything for a beat. Then:

“It was you.”

He nods, sheepish. “Yeah.”

“You were writing the letters all last year. All that time. While she was agonising over who it was.”

Another nod.

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I—” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I panicked, alright? I was going to. I really was. The last letter—I wrote it to finally tell her. Then I just… I bottled it. It felt too big. Too serious. I didn’t think she’d… you know. Want me.”

Lily stares at him.

“You absolute moron.”

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“She’s been miserable for months. She kept waiting for another letter, hoping you’d write again. Do you have any idea how much she—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

“I didn’t think she liked me,” James mutters. “I mean, properly. Not just the letters. And not after everything—after how I was in fifth year—”

“You’ve changed.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know if that matters.”

Lily looks at him, and something softens.

“It does. And for what it’s worth, I think she would want to know. But—” She holds up a finger before he can respond. “—If you want to be a coward, I won’t say a word. But if you want my silence, you’re going to have to make it worth it.”

James straightens. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll keep your secret—for now. But only if you actually do something about it. No more hiding. No more waiting. I’m going to help you, and you’re going to let me.”

James looks like someone’s just told him he has a shot at the World Cup.

“You’ll help me?”

She nods. “But only because I’m tired of watching her mope around like a ghost every time she checks her pillow for a letter that never comes.”

His expression shifts—hope blooming like a star behind his eyes.

“Alright,” he says, determined now. “Deal.”

Lily smiles.

—

The Christmas holidays was an odd time for both Lily and James. While a welcome respite from the usual whirlwind of school activities, they brought their own pressures. For Lily, it was the mounting anticipation of how to pull off her bold plan, and for James, it was the dawning realisation that he might just have a chance with you—but only if he didn’t screw it up.

It started innocently enough: a stack of parchment and a quill. The first few letters between them were brief and clumsy, full of the usual banter that you’d expect from James Potter. But with Lily’s encouragement and careful advice, his words began to take shape. She steered him, nudging him in the right direction.

There were moments of frustration—James was a disaster with anything that wasn’t a Quidditch strategy or prank, and this was, in his mind, far too serious to be a joke. But Lily stuck by him, offering a steady hand when his confidence faltered, teaching him how to make the words meaningful.

The tone of the letters shifted as they continued. At first, James wrote about what he thought you would want to hear—grand gestures, over-the-top declarations that, in hindsight, seemed ridiculous. But Lily patiently worked through them with him, showing him that it wasn’t about showiness—it was about connection. The real connection. The sort of connection that wasn’t about impressing you with his charm, but letting you see who he really was. She made him laugh, made him reflect on his own growth, and made him understand that this wasn’t just some passing fancy.

Their letters became a sort of symbiotic process. James would write something a bit too much, and Lily would dial it back with a comment about being too self-deprecating or too dramatic. He’d write again, taking into account her feedback. Then, Lily would send him back something that was genuinely thoughtful about what he could say to you—subtle things like, “She likes someone who listens, not just talks,” and “Remember, be genuine. It’s okay to be nervous.”

They’d find themselves exchanging letters, not just for the sake of figuring out what to say to you, but out of a shared sense of friendship, a bond that neither of them had expected to form.

They started to know each other better—not just as the Head Girl and the Head Boy, but as two people who were learning to be better versions of themselves. James began to appreciate Lily in a way that went beyond admiration—he respected her, her intelligence, her patience. She had a depth to her that he hadn’t quite realised before.

And Lily, for her part, couldn’t deny that James was more than just the loud, arrogant Quidditch star he used to be. He was thoughtful. He was kind. And beneath that cocky exterior, he was actually a lot more humble than anyone gave him credit for.

—

When the holidays ended and the students returned to Hogwarts, the air was thick with a sort of nervous energy. It was a fresh start after weeks away, and the school had a distinct feeling of a new term—new opportunities, new resolutions. It was also, for Lily, the moment when the plan she had been quietly constructing would need to unfold in full force.

As they returned to their regular routines, Lily began her work behind the scenes. It started innocently enough—casual conversations in the corridors, the library, and the common room. She would slip in little details about James—never overtly, but just enough to plant the seed in your mind.

“Did you hear about James helping that first-year with their transfiguration homework? I swear, he’s actually really good at it when he puts his mind to it,”

You had glanced up from your own work at the mention of James's name, frowning a little, because honestly, you hadn’t thought about him much. Not lately. He’d been busy with Quidditch, as usual. You couldn’t deny, though, that the idea of him being helpful—genuinely helpful—sounded out of character, even for him.

Over the next few days, Lily casually dropped more snippets into conversations. “James, honestly, I’m impressed with how he’s handled being Head Boy. He really seems to be taking it seriously. Even with Quidditch on his plate, he always makes time to help out,” She’d speak with genuine admiration, her voice unconsciously laced with warmth whenever she spoke of him.

At first, you dismissed it. It was all so subtle—so carefully orchestrated—that you barely noticed it happening. But the more Lily spoke, the more you began to pay attention.

One afternoon, you were walking down the corridor to the library when you spotted James on the far side of the hall, surrounded by first-years. You were about to look away when you saw him gently helping one of them with a stack of books, his hands steady, his voice low and encouraging. A completely different side to the usual cocky, mischief-driven James Potter. You’d never seen him like this before. You’d never seen anyone so engaged in something so simple.

That night, when you sat with the girls, Lily mentioned it casually. “James was really great today, helping the first years carry their books. He’s definitely grown up. It’s funny, isn’t it? We always think of him as the prankster, but there’s so much more to him than that. Honestly, I’m starting to see him in a new light,”

You were about to say something dismissive—something that would push the conversation away. But then, you stopped. There was something in the way she said it, so earnestly, that made you pause.

“Why do you keep talking about him like that?” Dorcas asked, raising an eyebrow at Lily.

Lily didn’t even bat an eyelash. She was smooth. “Why? What do you mean? He’s really changed, that’s all,”

“She has a bit of a point,” You immediately regret backing Lily. Why did you say that?

You weren’t sure what was happening to you. Why, when you closed your eyes that night, did your thoughts drift to James? Why, when you caught his smile in the corridor, did your heart feel like it skipped a beat? Why did you feel the need to brush your hair just right every time you passed him?

What was Lily doing to your head?

—

Lily Evans was a lot of things. Bright. Commanding. Intimidating when she wanted to be. But above all else, she was strategic. And once she caught on to the fact that you had—finally—developed something resembling a real, actual crush on James Potter, it was game over. For you.

You just didn’t know it yet.

“You need a break,” she said, as if that weren’t a suspicious statement from someone who had spent the last week stress-annotating every page of her Arithmancy textbook.

You glanced at her warily. “A break from what?”

“Studying. The common room. Yourself.” She sipped her tea primly. “We’re going to the library,”

“You think the library is a break?”

“Yes, because you’re not going alone this time,” she said. “We’ll revise together,”

You narrowed your eyes. “You hate revising with other people,”

“I don’t hate it,”

“You said—and I quote—‘group studying is a punishment for introverts who can’t read in silence.’”

Lily gave you her best innocent expression. “Wow. That doesn’t sound like me at all,”

Still, she wore you down. As she often did. And twenty minutes later you were being marched into the library under the pretense of productivity.

You weren’t entirely sure when you’d clocked it. Maybe it was the faint hum of nerves in Lily’s step, or the way she seemed to be leading you rather than walking beside you. But then you turned the corner near the back tables, and there he was.

James Potter. Sat alone at a table by the window, sunlight catching on his hair like it was doing it on purpose. His head was bowed, pencil tapping rhythmically against his lip as he read, and for once he looked almost serene. Normal. Thoughtful.

“Oh,” Lily said, not even bothering to feign surprise. “James. Didn’t see you there,”

He looked up, blinking at the both of you, then smiled—wide and easy. “Hey. Fancy running into you two,”

You turned to Lily with a look. She smiled sweetly and gestured to the empty chairs. “Plenty of room. Come on,”

You gave her a long-suffering sigh, but joined them. You didn’t miss the way James straightened up a little when you sat down. Or how he nudged his textbook closer to make space.

“We’re reviewing Potions,” Lily said, as if that was the plan all along. “James, you’re good at Potions, right?”

He gave a modest shrug. “Decent. Do you need help?”

She said nothing. Just looked at you. Pointedly.

“…Sure,” you mumbled, flipping open your book. “Why not.”

—

Later that week, it happened again.

You and Lily were walking down toward Herbology, cutting across the greenhouses when a burst of motion caught your eye near the Quidditch pitch.

James was there. Not flying, not showing off—but hovering gently just above the grass, alongside a very nervous-looking first year. The kid was wobbling on their broom, fists clenched white around the handle.

“Easy now,” James called, encouraging but calm. “Keep your knees loose. You’re thinking too hard. Let the broom do the work,”

“Is that Potter?” you asked, squinting.

Lily followed your gaze and made a noise like she’d just noticed. “Oh, yeah. I think he’s mentoring first years this term. Sweet, right?”

You turned back toward him. The wind ruffled his hair, and he reached out to steady the kid’s broom with a gentle hand, his voice low and kind and patient. It was… not a side of him you saw often. Or ever.

Your stomach did a thing.

Lily nudged you. “You’re staring,” she sang under her breath.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m observing,” you said flatly. “For science.”

“Sure. For science,”

—

By the third encounter, you were onto her.

This time, Lily “forgot” her notes in the Divination tower and asked you to come with her to get them. But when you reached the corridor, who was leaning against the wall chatting with Professor Sinistra?

That’s right.

James bloody Potter.

“…Hi?” he said, eyes flicking between the two of you.

Lily acted delighted. “Oh! James! What’re you doing up here?”

“Dropping off the star charts for Astronomy club,” he replied.

Lily gasped. “Look at you. Responsible and helpful,”

You turned your head slowly, muttering under your breath. “You planned this,”

“I absolutely did not,” Lily said, far too brightly.

You stared.

She smiled wider.

James, to his credit, just looked confused.

And maybe—maybe—a little hopeful.

—

Later, in the common room, you finally snapped.

“You’re setting me up,” you accused.

Lily beamed, completely unbothered. “Yes. And you’re welcome,”

“I didn’t ask for your interference,”

She crossed her arms and leaned against the sofa. “No, but I got tired of watching you pretend not to like him every time he breathed in your direction. So I decided to help you skip to the part where you realise he’s more than just a pretty face with Quidditch shoulders,”

You covered your face with a groan.

“Oh come on,” she said. “You like him,”

“No.”

“You do,”

You peeked between your fingers. “He was really sweet with that first year,”

Lily smirked. “I know,”

You slumped further into the cushions. “I hate how well this is working,”

“I’m a genius,” she said modestly.

And honestly? She kind of was.

—

It wasn’t long before Lily noticed that she didn’t have to nudge you in James's direction anymore. You started coming to her with your own observations. It started innocently enough.

“Did you see James helping that second-year with her Transfiguration homework today?” you asked, as you sat in the Gryffindor common room one chilly evening. “It was kind of… sweet,”

Lily's lips twitched in a knowing smile, but she hid it behind the book she was pretending to read. “Oh, really?” she asked casually, though her voice was laced with an almost imperceptible hint of amusement. “That sounds like him,”

And then, the more you noticed these things, the more you found yourself noticing him. The way his hair always fell in that messy way, no matter how much he tried to push it back. The way his eyes seemed to light up when he was talking about something he loved—Quidditch, of course, but also the way he spoke about his friends, his teammates. His honesty, unpolished but real. How, after all these years, you hadn’t truly seen him for what he was—someone who, despite his flaws, actually tried to do the right thing, even when he didn’t have to.

The realisation hit you slowly, like a wave creeping up the shore. You liked James Potter. You were attracted to him.

And that made you feel insane.

—

It was a Tuesday, and the usual hustle and bustle of Potions class filled the air as students shuffled into the dimly lit dungeon. You were seated next to Lily as usual, one row behind the Marauders, but that day, for some reason, your focus was nowhere near the task at hand. You were supposed to be preparing a Draught of Living Death, but your eyes kept straying to James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who were across the room, clearly engaged in some kind of prank plan.

It wasn’t even subtle. They were making faces at each other, stifling laughs, and it was so obvious that Professor Slughorn wasn’t even pretending to ignore them. You couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips as you watched James pass something to Sirius behind his cauldron, a quick handoff of some joke ingredient that was almost certainly going to explode in someone’s face.

“You’re staring again,” Lily pointed out with a grin, her voice low enough so that no one else could hear.

You blinked, realising that she had caught you, yet again. “What? No I’m not, I’m paying attention!” You quickly turned your focus back to your potion, though it was already too late—the glint in Lily’s eyes told you that she knew the truth.

She raised an eyebrow, still looking amused, and shook her head. “It’s okay. I mean, I did call it though,”

You groaned, slumping in your seat, feeling your cheeks flush. “I’m insane,” you muttered to yourself, so quietly that only Lily could hear. “What am I supposed to do? He’s been a complete arse to me for years, and now I’m falling for him? I’m a lunatic. Someone, take me away to Mungo’s. Commit me now. I’m beyond saving,”

Lily’s laughter bubbled up, and she didn’t even try to hide it. “Oh, come on, you’re not insane. You just like him. It’s not the end of the world,”

You shot her a glare. “Lils, I hate him. I have hated him for six years. Six years! He’s loud, he’s cocky, he’s arrogant. And now I want to—what? Be all gooey-eyed at him?”

She shrugged, the smile still dancing on her lips. “You’re allowed to change your mind, you know,”

“About him?” you said, pointing dramatically toward James, who was still engaging in some prank or another, his laugh unmistakable even from across the room. “What is wrong with me? Maybe I need a head examination. Maybe I just need to stop thinking about it altogether. Because this? This is crazy,”

Lily laughed again, a sound that was half sympathetic, half mocking. “I think you're being a little dramatic, don't you?”

“Drama's my middle name, Lils,” you muttered, sinking further into your seat, your face growing hot as you tried to ignore the fact that, even now, you could feel the pull of James Potter’s presence across the room. “Ugh. What do I even do? I can’t just talk to him. He’s so annoying. I can’t believe this is happening,”

Lily's tone turned more serious as she leaned a little closer, her voice softening. “Maybe… maybe you should start by just talking to him. Like, really talking. Not about Quidditch or anything that’s just… surface stuff. Maybe actually get to know him, without the whole cocky idiot routine he’s always doing,”

You frowned, looking over at James again, who had just leaned back in his chair, grinning at something Sirius had said. You shook your head, resisting the pull. “I don’t know, Lils. This whole thing is just… confusing,”

Lily sighed dramatically, resting her chin on her hand. “Yeah, I get that. But you know, I think he’s just a little misunderstood. He’s not perfect—he never has been. But… I think he’s worth getting to know. And I don’t think you’d regret it, if you gave him a chance,”

You stared at her, wide-eyed. “Are you… are you implying something here?”

Lily raised her hands in mock surrender, her eyes twinkling. “I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying… you should give him a chance to surprise you,”

You let out a long, dramatic groan. “What is wrong with me? I need help,”

—

Later that evening, you found yourself sitting in the Gryffindor common room, trying to ignore the noise around you. You were perched on the edge of the couch, pretending to study, but your mind was elsewhere entirely. Not on the anonymous love letters, but on James.

How had it happened? How had the most annoying person you’d ever met—someone who had spent years making fun of you, pranking you, and generally being an all-around nuisance—suddenly become someone you were seriously thinking about? It didn’t make sense. And yet, here you were, sighing over him like some lovesick fool.

“Everything okay?” Lily asked, sliding into the seat next to you. She had that familiar, knowing smile on her face—the one that made you feel like she could see straight through you. “You seem distracted,”

You let out a frustrated breath. “I’m an idiot,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands. “I’m an absolute, utter idiot,”

Lily laughed, clearly enjoying your inner turmoil. “You’re not an idiot. You’re just human,”

“Human, my arse,” you grumbled. “I’m supposed to be in control of my emotions. I’m supposed to be the level-headed one. And instead, I’m obsessing over James Potter. I mean, James Potter. What is wrong with me?”

Lily’s laugh was warm and understanding. She didn’t press you for more, though she did, at the back of your mind, know something you didn’t. She knew that you were slowly starting to see James for who he really was. And she knew that, when the time was right, it wouldn’t take much for him to see you for who you truly were, either.

But for now, all she had to do was sit back and watch the inevitable unfold.

—

By March, the weight of the upcoming mock NEWTs had hit Hogwarts like a bludger to the ribs. The once-lively Gryffindor common room was now filled with students hunched over parchment, quills scratching like beetles in the quiet, anxious air.

Even the usual chaos of the Marauders had simmered into a tense sort of focus—less pranks, more sighing, and an abundance of sugar quills chewed to bits while everyone tried to pretend they weren’t on the verge of collective academic collapse.

You’d taken to escaping the chaos by spending more time in the library, where the silence was less oppressive and the chances of being interrupted were, blessedly, low. There was something grounding about the musty scent of old books, the feel of parchment under your fingers, and the soft rustling of pages turning around you. Here, at least, you could pretend to have control over the mounting panic.

You didn’t expect to see him there.

It was a Thursday afternoon. The sky outside was grey and moody, a typical March sulk, and you’d made your way to the far side of the library looking for a quiet corner. Your bag was heavy on your shoulder, the strap digging into your collarbone, and your fingers were already ink-stained from a particularly ambitious essay you'd abandoned halfway through breakfast.

You turned down one of the aisles and paused.

James Potter sat alone at a study table, bent over a thick Potions textbook, hair sticking up in that ridiculous, familiar way, glasses slightly askew, brows furrowed in concentration. His quill tapped thoughtfully against his lips as he scanned a particularly long paragraph, completely unaware of your presence.

There were no Marauders in sight. No Sirius lolling about with a smirk, no Peter sneaking sweets, no Remus patiently annotating with colour-coded inks. Just James. Quiet. Focused. Normal.

It was weird.

You hovered there, unsure for a moment. James Potter was not someone you’d ever associated with solitude. He belonged in groups. In crowds. Loud, chaotic ones. He was a whirlwind of motion and noise and cheeky grins. But now—

Now, he just looked… Tired. Still. Almost soft.

You blinked. Once. Twice. And then, before your brain could talk your body out of it, you approached.

“Mind if I join you?”

James startled, looking up as though you’d just Apparated beside him. His expression shifted rapidly—surprise, confusion, and then something else entirely. Something warmer.

“Oh. Er—yeah! Yes, absolutely, yeah, course you can,” he stammered, quickly moving his things to make space for you, nearly knocking over his inkpot in the process. “Didn’t expect company,”

“I didn’t expect you to be in here,” you replied, sliding into the seat beside him and placing your books on the table. “Alone, I mean. No gaggle of mischief-makers in tow,”

He gave a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, I figured I’d actually try to… I don’t know, pass transfiguration this year. Trying this whole ‘focus’ thing,”

You arched an eyebrow. “Look at you. All grown up and responsible,”

He mock-scowled at you. “Don’t make it weird,”

You smiled despite yourself. “I’m stressed about the Potions exam,” you admitted after a moment. “I feel like Slughorn could hand me a list of ingredients and I’d still forget what a bezoar does,”

James gave you a surprised, almost earnest look. “Do you want to revise together? I mean—I’m decent at Potions. Got a weird knack for it. I could help,”

You tilted your head, eyeing him. “You? Helping me revise?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he said, grinning now. “I can be serious when I want to be,”

“Can you?”

James snorted. “Okay, I try to be,”

You laughed, and somehow that broke the tension. The two of you slipped into an easy rhythm. You started with Potions, him explaining the nuances of antidotes and the precise slicing technique needed for Sopophorous beans.

His explanations were animated—hands gesturing as he talked, voice fluctuating with a kind of earnestness you’d never quite noticed before. It made sense why he was such a good Quidditch captain; there was something undeniably compelling about the way he communicated, even when it was just about brewing Draught of Peace.

He didn't mock you when you forgot something obvious. He didn't interrupt. He listened.

And when your hands brushed across the table, reaching for the same note at the same time, he didn't flinch away. He just smiled.

Then the subject drifted. From Potions to Charms. From Charms to Transfiguration. From school to House gossip to whether centaurs secretly judged the students during Care of Magical Creatures.

Somewhere along the way, the edges between awkward and easy blurred.

There were pauses, of course—comfortable silences where you simply worked, and longer ones filled with light teasing or surprising bursts of genuine conversation. Like when he told you about his mum’s obsession with over-feeding the stray street cat, or how Sirius once bewitched his bed curtains to play harp music every time someone said his name.

It was weird, how easy it was.

It was weirder, still, when you realised you’d lost track of time.

“Blimey,” James muttered, glancing at the high windows. “It’s practically dark out,”

You blinked, checking your watch. “We’re late for dinner,”

“I was supposed to meet the team for a strategy review,” he said, rubbing a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more.

As if summoned, Peter popped his head around the shelf with a harried expression. “There you are!” he said to James, and then looked at you, visibly surprised. “We thought you’d fallen in a cauldron or something,”

James gave an apologetic shrug. “Lost track of time,”

Peter eyed the two of you, then turned his gaze back on James and raised his eyebrows very pointedly. “Riiight,”

You and James exchanged a glance, and then you both gathered your things and followed Peter out.

—

When you entered the Great Hall late, your friends were all over you.

“Where were you?” Dorcas asked, half-standing.

“Don’t say the library,” Marlene warned. “We know you left for the library, but you didn’t come back for hours,”

“And with James Potter?” Dorcas added, now openly gaping.

You groaned, sliding into the seat beside Lily. “It’s not what it sounds like.”

“It sounds like you two met up for a shag,” Marlene suggested, delighted.

“Absolutely not,” you said, head thunking dramatically onto the table. “He was helping me with potions. That’s all.”

Lily grinned, rubbing your back. “So you finally cracked, then?”

You peeked up at her with a groan. “I can’t stand how smug you look right now,”

Dorcas leaned in eagerly. “Wait—you like him?”

You sighed and sat up. “I begrudgingly have a crush on James Potter. There. I said it. I hate myself. I hate him. I hate everything. Kill me now.”

The table burst into laughter. Marlene actually clutched her chest. “I knew it. You’ve been making heart eyes for weeks,”

Lily looked positively radiant. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “It’s only taken you, what? Seven years?”

You scowled. “This is the worst timeline.”

Still, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

—

Meanwhile, James was in the middle of a complete overshare.

“I panicked,” he said, flopping dramatically onto Sirius’ bed. “She just walked over and sat down. And then we actually talked. Like properly talked. And she laughed, Sirius. She laughed. At my jokes,”

Sirius grinned from where he was perched at the edge of Remus’s bed. “So you didn’t ruin it. Colour me shocked,”

James threw a pillow at him. “I’m being serious.”

“I’m being Sirius,” Sirius deadpanned.

Remus groaned. “Not this again,”

Peter snorted, settling at the foot of his own bed. “So what now? You two just revise together like it’s no big deal?”

“She asked to join me,” James said, like it was still unbelievable. “And I didn’t mess it up. I even helped her with Potions,”

Sirius gave him a sly look. “You like her,”

“Yes,” James said, no hesitation. “Obviously. I’ve liked her for ages. And now she’s actually… noticing me. And it’s terrifying,”

“What happened to cool, confident James Potter?” Remus asked with a faint smile.

“He’s dead.” James exclaimed. “He doesn’t exist,”

Sirius cracked up laughing.

James groaned, grabbing another pillow. “Promise me you lot won’t screw this up for me,”

“Course not,” Remus said. “We want you to be happy,”

“Speak for yourself,” Sirius muttered. “I liked it better when he was hopeless,”

But he smiled anyway.

—

From that point on, library sessions became a thing.

At first, it was casual. A few times a week, whenever you happened to run into each other. Then Lily started suggesting you go together—“oh, James said he’d be in the library after dinner, you should head down,”—and it became routine.

You tried to tell yourself it was just studying. That was all.

But it wasn’t.

You and James talked about everything—from exam stress and professors to more personal things. Like how he hated how he used to treat people, especially you and Lily. How he couldn’t believe he’d wasted so much time being a prat. How he’d let his ego make choices he still regretted.

“I was a total wanker,” he said one evening, sitting across from you, fiddling with the end of his quill. “Back when you and Lily were still friends with Snape. I was just… angry all the time. Jealous, maybe. I don’t know. But I was awful. And I’m sorry,”

You blinked. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “That actually means a lot,”

He gave you a small smile. “I just—I want you to know I’m trying. Not just for you. For me, too,”

And you believed him.

Which was maybe the scariest part.

Because this—whatever this was—wasn’t just a passing crush anymore.

You were really starting to fall for James Potter.

—

It was a Friday afternoon, the eve of the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw Quidditch final, and James Potter was, predictably, in full strategising mode. You’d barely sat down at your usual table in the library before he launched into a spirited rant about formations, wind direction, and something called “chaser rotation efficiency” like he hadn’t just spent the past two hours at practice already barking the same things at his team.

You, meanwhile, were fighting a losing battle against a headache and the slow, creeping guilt of having left your Potions essay untouched for two full days.

“—and I swear if McLaggen swerves left again when I signal right, I’m going to charm his broomstick to fly backwards—”

“I forgot my quill,” you interrupted, sighing dramatically and digging fruitlessly through your satchel. “Great. That’s perfect. That’s exactly what I needed today,”

“Oh—here,” James said, gesturing vaguely to his bag without pausing his train of thought. “There’s loads in there, probably. Knock yourself out,”

You slid his satchel toward you, still only half-listening as he rambled on, now something about wind tunnels and Ravenclaw’s new Keeper. You unzipped the bag and fished around, fingers grazing parchment, a broken sugar quill, and several unidentifiable sticky objects before landing on a whole bundle of rogue writing utensils.

And then—your fingers brushed something else.

Smooth. Firm. Familiar.

You pulled it out.

Gold-foiled parchment.

Your breath hitched.

It was folded and refolded a dozen times over, edges fraying, the once-glossy surface dulled and creased. There were small ink stains on the back. A faint smudge of what might have been chocolate. You didn’t even need to open it to know what it was.

But you did anyway.

You shouldn’t have. You knew that. But your hands acted faster than your brain, and before you could stop yourself, your eyes were scanning the page.

Your name was there, in that now-unmistakable handwriting. The curves and flicks that had haunted your thoughts for nearly a year. And the words—oh, the words. Soft and intimate and so completely James that you were stunned you hadn’t pieced it together before.

I know I said I wouldn’t write you anymore, but I’m afraid I can’t help myself. The truth is, I’ve been terrified of saying it out loud, of giving you something you don’t need or want. But I can’t pretend anymore. I’ve loved you for so long, in ways that I can’t even put into words. I’ve watched you, really watched you, every day, and I’ve noticed things about you that—

You were halfway through reading it when James looked up from his notes, mid-smirk.

“I know my bag’s a bit of a disaster zone, but come on—it can’t be that hard to find a—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

His smile dropped.

You slowly looked up, the letter still in your hands, your fingers clenched tight around the gold paper. Your voice, when it came, was a whisper. Distant.

“…It was you?”

Silence.

James stared at you.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

You saw it—the flicker of panic, the rapid calculations behind his eyes, the moment he considered denying it.

But he didn’t.

He just nodded. Once. Barely perceptible.

You rose from your seat with a quiet scrape of your chair.

“I— I need to go.”

“Wait—” James started, standing as if to follow you, but you were already gone.

You didn’t look back.

—

James slumped back into his seat like the air had been knocked out of him.

He felt like he might be sick.

He'd known it was a risk. He’d always known. That’s why he never sent that final letter. That’s why he buried it in the bottom of his bag with the other forgotten things. Because if you ever found out…

And now you had.

He ran both hands through his hair and groaned into the table.

Lily found him twenty minutes later, still in the library, head buried in his arms.

“James we need to— What happened?” she asked immediately, sliding into the seat beside him. “You look like someone hexed your soul out,”

James didn’t lift his head.

“She found the letter,”

“…What?”

James groaned again. “I had it in my bag and she went in for a quill and she found it. Read it. Said ‘It was you?’ and then just—left.”

Lily’s eyes widened.

“What? James, that wasn’t the plan—!”

“I know,” he said miserably. “Trust me.”

Lily didn’t wait for more. She stood, grabbed her bag, and strode from the library like a woman on a mission.

—

She found you in the girls’ dormitory, door slightly ajar, the room quiet except for the faint rustle of parchment and the erratic, uneven sounds of your breathing.

The gold-letter lay open on your duvet, surrounded by all the other ones you’d carefully saved. The edges were frayed and thumbed from how often you’d reread them, but now they were scattered like fallen leaves, forming a halo around your crossed legs.

You didn’t look up when Lily entered.

She sat beside you quietly.

For a while, there was only the sound of your sniffles and the occasional tear hitting paper.

“I feel insane,” you said eventually, voice shaking. “I— I didn’t think— I never imagined it would be him,”

Lily reached out gently, plucking a letter from the bedspread. “You mean to tell me you never noticed the handwriting?”

“I never thought to look,” you mumbled. “Why would I? It was James Potter. He was—he was awful for so long,”

“But he isn’t now,”

You looked at her then, eyes red, lips trembling. “No. He’s not,”

There was a long pause.

Lily tilted her head. “You really like him, don’t you?”

You groaned, flopping backwards onto your pillow with a dramatic sigh. “I guess! I don’t—I didn’t think I did, not like that, not really, not until recently, and now—now I don’t know what to do, Lily,”

Lily smiled gently. “It’s okay. It’s… a lot. I know that,”

“It’s so much,” you moaned. “It’s like my brain is having a meltdown. All the letters—I loved the letters, and now they’re his letters and it’s like this huge secret just blew up in my face and I think I want to cry but also yell but also maybe kiss him and I don’t know what order those things go in!”

Lily laughed softly. “That’s the grief talking,”

You sniffled. “Grief?”

“Yeah,” she said solemnly. “The five stages of realising you’ve been in love with James Potter,”

You gave her a look.

“I’m serious. Denial—you definitely had that one early. Anger? You stormed out of the library. Bargaining—we’re doing that now. Depression is when you go quiet and start rereading all his letters while questioning your entire existence. And acceptance—well,”

“I’m not at acceptance yet,” you insisted, even as your voice wobbled. “I’m still in a very dramatic spiral,”

“You’ll get there,” Lily said kindly. “Just… breathe, okay? You’re allowed to freak out. But this—this doesn’t have to be bad,”

“He lied to me,”

“He didn’t lie,” Lily said gently. “He just… couldn’t find the courage to tell you the truth,”

You fell quiet, chewing your lip. “Was this your plan all along?”

Lily hesitated. “Not this exact ending, but… I knew. For a while. And I may have nudged things along,”

You groaned again, grabbing a pillow and burying your face in it. “You kept it from me?”

“It wasn’t mine to tell,”

You peeked out. “He’s really upset, isn’t he?”

“Like a kicked puppy,”

—

James was falling apart.

The Marauders tried their best to be supportive.

Which, unfortunately, amounted to Sirius offering him chocolate, Remus recommending deep breathing exercises, and Peter saying things like, “Well, at least it’s out now?”

“Out?” James choked. “It’s out like a Blast-Ended Skrewt in a greenhouse! She’s going to hate me,”

“You’re being dramatic,” Sirius said. “She likes you. Even I can see that,”

“She liked the version of me who wrote the letters,” James said. “Not the idiot who shoved them in a bag and hoped they never saw the light of day,”

“She liked you, mate,” Remus corrected. “You were being yourself in those letters. You just… didn’t know how to show it in person,”

James rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

“No,” Sirius said, surprisingly firm. “Not unless you give up now,”

James looked at him.

“You’ve come this far. She knows now. You can’t back down. Not unless you’re okay with always wondering what would’ve happened if you tried,”

James took a deep breath.

“I want to try,”

“Then try,” Remus said, clapping him on the shoulder.

—

You stayed up most of the night rereading the letters.

Every word hit differently now.

The soft musings. The little jokes. The genuine awe in the way he’d described you.

James Potter had written them all.

And somehow, that made your heart hurt in the most complicated, overwhelming, real way.

By morning, your mind was no clearer—but you knew one thing.

You needed to talk to him.

—

James didn’t wake up until nearly noon.

He jolted upright in bed with a strangled noise, heart racing, hair a chaotic mess of pillow creases and stress, the realisation slamming into his chest like a Bludger—he’d missed practice.

He’d missed practice.

On the day of the finals.

There was a beat of stunned silence in the common room, broken only by Peter’s stifled gasp as James scrambled down the stairs, knocking over a chair, his wand, and nearly himself in his blind panic.

“Shit—shit—shit—”

“James, mate, calm down,” came Sirius’s voice, too calm, too amused for the situation.

“I missed practice, Sirius! Finals practice! I'm the captain! I was supposed to run drills, go over the formations—McLaggen was probably leading it, and now the team’s going to think I don’t give a damn—”

“Breathe,” Remus added, flicking his wand to fix James’ mess of a hairdo mid-spiral.

“I can’t—breathe! I should be—kicked off the team, I should sub myself out—”

At that, Sirius sat up properly, ruffling a hand through his dark hair. “Okay, whoa, no. What are you on about?”

James didn’t answer. He was halfway dressed, chest still heaving, hands shaking so badly he couldn’t even fasten the buttons.

“I mean it,” he muttered, voice lower now, harsher. “Maybe I shouldn’t play,”

“You’re literally the best Chaser in the school,” Peter said, face scrunched in confusion.

“I’m also a disaster. You didn’t see her face yesterday. She looked—like I’d broken her, or something. I can’t concentrate, I can’t think—I can’t lead the team if my brain’s stuck on whether or not I’ve ruined the only real shot I had with her,”

“James,” Sirius said carefully, sitting on the edge of one of the sofas. “You don’t have to ruin everything just because your crush found out you have feelings,”

James shot him a look. “It’s more than that and you know it,”

Sirius shrugged. “I do. I also know you’re being an idiot,”

“I panicked. I didn’t mean for her to find the letter—”

“No one thinks you did,” Remus said gently.

“Then why did she run?”

Sirius gave him a flat look. “I dunno, maybe because she’s been falling for you and just found out the sweet, romantic mystery boy she’s been dreaming about for a year is the same idiot who hexed her potions cauldron in fourth year? Maybe it was a lot?”

James dropped heavily into a chair and buried his face in his hands.

He muttered something into his palms that sounded suspiciously like, “I hate everything,”

Sirius stood. “You can’t sit this match out, Prongs,”

“I might make things worse,”

“You won’t,” Remus said.

“You’re just scared,” Sirius added. “And you should be. Feelings are terrifying. But you either play today and show her you’re still you, or you hide away and let her think she was right to walk away,”

James didn’t answer.

—

You were pacing the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room like a lunatic.

You’d spent half the night re-reading the letters again, still overwhelmed, still processing, but ultimately—and maybe most importantly—feeling guilty.

You hadn’t meant to run out on him like that. You did still care. A lot. Too much.

So you needed to say something. Maybe not everything. Maybe not a confession, not yet. But something.

You asked a third year if they’d seen James. They hadn’t.

You tried the Quidditch pitch. Empty.

Eventually, you made your way to the prefects dorms, hesitating at the door before quietly pushing it open.

“…sub myself out…”

You froze.

James was sitting on his bed, dressed in his Quidditch uniform, looking like the ghost of himself. Sirius was pacing. Remus and Peter were quiet. And then—

“Oh,” you blurted.

All four heads turned.

You immediately wanted to melt into the floor. “I—uh—I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I was just—um—I came to wish you luck. For the match. Lily and I are gonna watch for Marlene, obviously, and I know you were really going on about it yesterday so… yeah.”

Your cheeks were burning. You tugged at the sleeve of your jumper and avoided eye contact like it would save you from death by embarrassment. “Anyway. Yeah. Good luck,”

You turned and practically sprinted out the door, pressing both palms to your face the moment it closed behind you.

Inside, there was a beat of silence.

Then Sirius’s slow, satisfied, “She so likes you,”

James didn’t believe it. But still—he sat up straighter. There was a faint flush in his cheeks, a tiny, hopeful ember reigniting.

He wasn’t going to sub himself out.

Not now he knew you were watching.

—

The match that afternoon was nothing short of brutal.

Ravenclaw had a reputation for smart plays and clever feints, and they came in swinging with strategy and speed. But James was a force. It was like someone had lit a fire under him—every pass was clean, every dodge intentional. He was focused. Sharp. Alive in a way he hadn’t been in days.

The crowd in the stands was on fire.

You’d never really been the biggest Quidditch enthusiast—not like Marlene or even Dorcas, who pretended to be bored most games but secretly had a very complex internal fantasy league ranking system. But today? You were completely, helplessly, entirely invested.

Your throat was raw from shouting. You didn’t even care that Lily kept elbowing you in the ribs every time you shrieked James’s name louder than was probably acceptable for someone not dating him. (Yet.)

“I’m sorry,” you rasped after the sixth time, cupping your hands over your mouth as James executed an absolutely outrageous dive to steal the Quaffle from a Ravenclaw Chaser. “But that was hot. That was so—Lily, did you see that—?”

Lily didn’t even try to pretend she wasn’t grinning. “I saw it. The whole pitch saw it. You are so painfully gone for this boy it’s almost tragic,”

You shoved her shoulder, cheeks on fire, unable to wipe the dopey grin off your face. James was glowing—wind-swept, flushed, every movement clean and confident and completely alive. It was unfair how good he looked flying. Like it was something stitched into his DNA.

Gryffindor was ahead. Barely. And the entire stadium was one collective heartbeat waiting for the final move.

It came with a streak of red and gold as the Seeker bolted upward—Marlene’s signature move—and then a roar from the crowd when she clutched the Snitch in her hand, grinning like a maniac.

“Yes!” you and Lily screamed in unison, nearly falling over the bench in front of you.

Below, the team rushed to meet her midair, swarming in a tangle of hugs and back pats, and James—James looked up toward the stands, searching, scanning, finding you.

Your breath caught. He grinned, absolutely beaming, and you—without thinking—grinned back.

—

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing. It looked like every single student in the house had packed themselves in to celebrate the win. There were butterbeers flying, someone had enchanted the couches to bounce like trampolines, and music blasted from one corner where Sirius had commandeered the record player.

You tried to stay off to the side with Lily and the other girls, laughing and pretending to be just another teammate’s supporter, not the girl who had maybe-sort-of-definitely admitted feelings for the captain.

But they were not having it.

“Go talk to him,” Dorcas demanded, poking you hard in the ribs.

“He just won the Cup, obviously you have to congratulate him,” Mary added, dragging you a few steps forward.

“I will! Just—” You resisted, flustered. “I need a second. Or ten.”

You didn’t get ten.

Because moments later, James appeared near the fireplace, sweaty and still in uniform, laughing at something Sirius said, absolutely radiant. And the girls all but shoved you in his direction.

You stumbled a bit, clutching your butterbeer like a life raft. He noticed you instantly.

His smile faltered. Just slightly.

You walked the rest of the way on your own, heart hammering like a snitch in your chest.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey,” James replied, voice quieter than usual.

You stared at each other for a long moment.

Then Sirius, bless his idiotic timing, called from across the room. “Oi! If you’re gonna stare at each other all night, at least do it while snogging! Save us all the agony!”

You blinked. James blinked. Your face caught fire.

You coughed, trying to rally. “Congratulatio—”

“I like you.”

You blinked again. He was staring at you now, so intently, like you were the only person in the room. The words spilled out of him like they’d been waiting on his tongue for weeks.

“A lot. It might not even be liking anymore—I think I might actually be in love with you. Which is terrifying, obviously. I mean, do you know how scary that is? I didn’t mean to say that just now but it’s true and now it’s out there and I can’t take it back and I am so definitely panicking right now what am I doing—”

“James.”

He stopped.

You took a step closer.

“I like you too.”

Silence.

Then James let out a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a laugh and maybe a choke. “You do?”

“I do,”

“Like, like-like me?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning now. “Do you want me to write it in a letter that I’ll never send to you?”

“Okay, wow,” James let out a short laugh, one your grateful breaks the tension a little. “Too soon, too soon,”

He looks at you with unbridled affection as you return the laugh with an unapologic “Sorry,”, and he can’t seem to help himself.

“We should kiss now, right? Wait—should I have asked that? That sounded stupid—so stupid—oh my God, what is wrong with me, I’m gonna go cry in a corner—”

You interrupted him the only way that made sense.

You kissed him.

He froze for half a second—just long enough to register that it was actually happening—and then he melted into it like he’d been waiting forever. His hands hovered for a moment before settling, warm and firm, at your waist. His mouth was soft, gentle, hesitant in the best way, like he was afraid he’d wake up and realise this was all a dream.

But it wasn’t. It was very, very real.

And, unfortunately, also very public.

“Oi! You’re in public, you know!” came Marlene’s unmistakable cackle from across the room.

You broke the kiss, face flaming as you realised—oh no—everyone had seen.

Like… everyone.

James looked equally shellshocked. You both stared at the cheering, whooping, laughing room of Gryffindors, then at each other.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Kill me now.”

James laughed, looping his arms around your shoulders and holding you tight, radiating smug glee.

“No can do,” he said into your hair. “I’ve been waiting years for this,”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered.

“And yet,” he grinned, “you like me anyway.”

You looked up at him. “Unfortunately.”

And yeah, okay—maybe it was chaotic, and soft, and totally unplanned—but your first kiss with James Potter was exactly as ridiculous and wonderful as it should’ve been.

Lily caught your eye across the common room after the commotion of the kiss settled into a hundred knowing glances and too-loud whispers. She made a very obvious, very exaggerated “go!” motion with both hands, then shoved her way across the crowd to reach you.

“We are not doing this in front of thirty nosy Gryffindors,” she said under her breath, looping her arm through yours and all but dragging you toward the dorms.

“Wait, what’s happening—”

“Privacy, darling. Trust me,”

She glanced back at James, who was still slightly dazed, and jerked her head at him. “Potter. Move,”

He blinked. “Yeah—yep—coming.”

“Also,” she added over her shoulder to the room at large, “if anyone so much as breathes near the Head Boy’s dorm in the next hour, I will personally hex your toes off,”

There was a smattering of laughter, but everyone—whether out of respect or fear—gave a collective nod of understanding.

You didn’t even fight her on it. You let her guide you through the winding corridors until James was unlocking the door to his private dorm, a quiet space tucked away on the top floor of Gryffindor Tower.

He stepped aside to let you in first. You walked in slowly, half-expecting something chaotic, like prank supplies or an entire wall of Quidditch posters—but the room was surprisingly clean. A little messy around the edges, sure—a few rogue socks, a quill left in an ink bottle too long—but warm. Lived in. His.

“Your curtains don’t match,” you said, for lack of anything better.

He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. Peter charmed them once to be the colours of the Weird Sisters and I’ve never managed to get them back properly,”

You nodded slowly. “Cool,”

A pause.

Then—

“You’ve liked me since fourth year?”

It slipped out without warning. You hadn’t meant to say it, not so quickly, but the words burned in your chest. That letter, the gold-foiled parchment, the confession—it was still vibrating through you.

James looked startled, but only for a second. He nodded once, soft and certain.

“Yeah,”

You swallowed. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He smiled faintly, stepping closer. “Because I was a little idiot. Arrogant. Immature. A menace, honestly. You hated me,”

“I didn’t—hate you,”

“You did,”

“…Okay, a little, maybe,”

That made him laugh.

“But honestly— I didn’t think I deserved to like you back then,” he said. “You were smart. And kind. And so real. You were always thinking about things, you saw people. I was just the loud idiot on a broom,”

You were quiet, because hearing it like that—laid out so plainly—made your heart ache.

He was in front of you now, barely a foot away. You thought he was going to kiss you again, but he didn’t.

Instead, James reached up and gently cradled your face in his hands, his thumbs grazing the apple of your cheeks like you were made of glass and starlight. And then he just looked at you. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he was committing every inch of you to memory.

“You have no idea,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, “how much you make me feel.”

You couldn’t speak.

So instead, you leaned up and kissed him.

This time, there was no chaos. No crowd. No interruptions. Just you, and James, and the warmth of something blooming between your ribs.

It was slow—achingly so—your lips brushing his like a question. He exhaled into you, a soft, broken sound, and kissed you back like you were the answer.

It was… everything.

The kind of kiss that didn’t need to prove itself. One that said: I see you. I’m here. I want this.

Somewhere between one kiss and the next, you murmured, “Thank you,”

He pulled back just slightly, brow furrowing. “For what?”

You looked up at him, heart thundering.

“You didn’t make this some huge thing. You didn’t… turn it into a game, or a bet, or something loud and performative. You liked me. And you didn’t hide it, but you didn’t push me either. You just… were. You were you.” You blinked. “Thank you for being you,”

James’s face crumpled just a little, like he couldn’t decide whether to smile or cry. One of his hands dropped to your waist, the other curling behind your neck like he needed the anchor.

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing you in.

“I don’t think you know,” he said hoarsely, “how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,”

You smiled, dizzy with it all. “Well. Get used to it,”

His lips brushed yours again, so soft it was almost nothing. “I’m really, really in love with you,”

Your breath caught.

“I know,” you whispered.

And then you kissed him again.

And again.

And again.

-MDNI FROM THIS POINT ONWARD.-

It started soft—careful, like you were both still testing the weight of the moment. His hands cradled your face like you were something fragile, something precious, something he’d been terrified of holding wrong for years. But each time your mouths met again, the kiss deepened. Grew bolder. A little less hesitant. A little more sure.

Your fingers tangled in his hair—so soft, so stupidly soft—and James let out a noise against your mouth that had your heart stuttering in your chest. The hand cupping your cheek slid down, fingers grazing your jaw, your neck, until it found the curve of your waist and settled there, grounding you.

He was warm. Too warm. Like every inch of him was heat and adrenaline and the barely-contained relief of finally, finally having this.

You tugged him closer.

He didn’t hesitate.

Your back met the edge of the desk behind you, his chest flush with yours, and suddenly there was no air left between your bodies. Just the solid, real weight of him—every inch as solid and strong as you’d imagined when he walked through the halls like the sun had chosen him to orbit around. But here, like this, he was just James. And he was looking at you like he could drown in the sight of you.

His thumb brushed along your hipbone, under the hem of your shirt, and your whole body lit up like you’d been cursed—like every nerve ending had just remembered it was alive.

“Are we—?” he started to ask, breathless.

You kissed him again before he could finish. “I don’t know,” you murmured. “But don’t stop,”

James definitely didn’t stop.

His hands wandered with a careful hunger—like he wanted to memorise the shape of you, not just with touch but with reverence. His mouth followed the same path, trailing kisses from the corner of your lips down the line of your jaw to the soft skin beneath your ear. When he whispered your name there, barely audible, your knees buckled.

You gripped his shirt, fisting the fabric at his chest to stay steady. “God, you’re—” You stopped yourself before the rest could fall out, but the look in his eyes said he’d heard the whole thing anyway.

His lips parted like he wanted to say something—maybe something funny, maybe something devastating—but you kissed him before he had the chance. This time slower, more deliberate, your mouths fitting together like puzzle pieces that had always been waiting for the right alignment.

And it worked. Somehow, it just worked.

The kind of kiss that felt like you’d been chasing it your whole life.

James groaned softly into your mouth, and that noise did something catastrophic to your brain. One of his hands slid up your back, fingers spread wide like he was trying to anchor himself to you, and when you opened your eyes for half a second to look at him, you found him already watching you—eyes blown wide with want, with feeling, with everything.

“I’ve wanted this,” he breathed against your skin. “For so long,”

James kissed you like a man starved after that—still gentle, always careful, but no longer pulling back.

It was clumsy in places, breathless in others. Too many teeth in one kiss, your shoulder knocking into a stack of textbooks in another. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

You were on fire.

And James was the match, the spark, the sun itself.

At some point, his forehead pressed to yours. You both just breathed. Hard. Laughing softly between gasps, because of course it was James who made kissing this addictive and this stupid.

You were lost in him.

In the feel of every inch of him pressed against you—his hips pinning you to the edge of the desk, his body surrounding you like a forcefield of lean muscle and freckled skin.

Heat was unfurling like liquid fire in your veins, but his mouth still traced over your jawline and across your cheek like he couldn’t stop. Like you were precious.

You gripped the fabric of his shirt, tugging hard enough to bring his gaze back to yours and then holding it, your breath hitching when you caught that look in his eyes, and his hips moved—just once, and just a little—and god, what that did to you. How it sent desire flashing like a lightning bolt down your spine to pool low in your stomach, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from gasping out loud.

His fingers curled around your hips, digging into the soft flesh through your jeans, and then he pulled you closer like he couldn’t get enough. Closer still, until you were practically draped over the desk, your thighs parted and hips flush with his, and he was devouring you—his touch, his kiss, with no sign of being full.

God, he wanted everything.

His hands mapped out the line of your waist, your ribs, your spine, and everywhere you could feel the warm, rough slide of his touch you burned for more. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could feel it pulsing through your skin, and when you rolled your hips up towards his you were just as surprised by the noise you made as James was.

He inhaled sharply, swearing softly, and there would have been time to be embarrassed if you weren’t too busy being turned to mush.

“God that was hot,” James practically breathes out the words, hungry eyes half hidden behind fog-covered lenses as they drag down your body.

He looked utterly ruined already. Hair a mess from you running your fingers through it, shirt rumpled from when you couldn’t keep yourself from touching him. Wanting him.

You reached up to cup his face on impulse, your fingers tracing the lines of his cheeks, his jaw, before sliding your fingers across the arms of his glasses, delicately pulling them from his face. “D’you need these?”

The smirk that spreads across his face is just a little bit smug, but it still does things to you. “Depends,” he said, still breathless. “Are we planning on doing anything that would necessitate me being able to see?”

You laugh, dropping both your voices, and it comes out sounding rough. “Maybe not,” you say, slipping the specs into the front pocket of his shirt. “Do you need to be able to see to kiss me?”

His eyes are half-lidded, and you could count each of his eyelashes from the way he’s looking at you, lips still swollen from a few minutes ago. “No,” he murmurs, leaning down to brush his mouth over yours again, “but it does help with the view.”

He took your chin with his finger, tilting your face up so he could take in the sight of you properly. A slow-burning warmth unfurled in your stomach—no, lower than that, and for a few seconds you were both just looking, and it felt almost more intimate than the last few minutes.

“God, you’re… blurry,” he whispered, and you can’t help the sharp laugh that echoes out of your throat.

“Bugger off,” you said, without any real intent behind it. You weren’t even sure why you were acting so shy—maybe you were just overwhelmed by the situation, the feelings, or the way being with James just felt. Whatever the reason, he seemed to find your nervousness amusing.

He chuckled, dipping his head to press a kiss to the sensitive skin just beneath your ear, right there at the edge of your jaw where you were softest. “I’m kidding,” he murmured. “I’m nearsighted. And you’re definitely close enough for me to see,”

He pulled back just enough for the smirk to return, the tips of his fingers grazing over the strip of exposed skin between the hem of your shirt and the waist of your jeans and sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth was still curved in that maddeningly smug smile, but his voice was so low when he continued to talk. “I’m gonna take your shirt off now, okay?”

The question comes out quiet and gentle, but there’s a heat to it too. Asking what you want, asking what you’ll let him have.

You manage a breathless, “okay,” and his gaze is still fixed on you when he lets his hands slide up under your shirt, calloused fingers dancing over the bare skin of your waist.

Every point of contact seemed to sizzle, nerve endings you didn’t even know you had sparking alive beneath his touch. You felt like you were trembling, like every breath hit was a jolt of pure, liquid feeling.

His eyes were still trained on your face as he drew your shirt over your head, gaze drifting across your exposed chest with an unabashed—and kind of feral—kind of reverence. “God, you’re perfect—”

He pressed a kiss to the spot just below your collarbone, and you could feel the rasp of a day’s worth of stubble against your skin, burning down to your very bones. Both his hands splayed across your ribcage, like he was trying to memorise the shape of your body by touch.

You can hear the sharp intake of breath he takes when his fingers catch the edge of your bra, and he’s already murmuring again, his voice a low, wrecked sound against your bare skin. “Can I take this off too?”

You answer by helping him fumble with the hooks, the heat from his skin and his gaze almost too much to bear. By the time it hits the floor somewhere behind you, his mouth has found the delicate, thrumming hollow of your neck, and his hands are wandering lower. Across your stomach, tracing over your curves to slide across your hipbone and dip under the waist of your jeans.

Any coherent thoughts you’d been clinging on to up until this point were gone, lost in a haze of heat and want. Every touch was electric, his mouth searing a path down your neck, across your shoulder, across the bare skin of your collarbone, until he’d left a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses along the apex of your breasts.

“You sound so good,” he whispered, the words catching against your skin. “Taste so good.”

He was everywhere, surrounding you, all his attention on the body under his touch. His nose grazed the sensitive skin just above your nipple, just a gentle brush at first, and then he flicked the tip of his tongue across the peak of your breast and every nerve in your body went white hot.

“God—” the single syllable comes out as a broken gasp. A plea, maybe, a wordless begging for more.

He chuckled softly, a dangerous, wicked sound, and then he closed his mouth over your nipple and sucked. It felt like he’d lit a fire in the pit of your stomach, like it was all you could do to breathe, and he wasn’t even finished. One of his hands was still holding your hip—steadying you as he switched his attention to the other, teeth scraping just enough to make the heat in your belly flare brighter, deeper, all of your muscles tensing at once.

Every part of you felt like it was on fire, and you were so empty. The ache between your thighs was insistent, demanding attention you couldn’t give it. You let out a breathless whine, shifting to try and get some friction, and when he raised his head to look at you, eyes all half-lidded and mouth still slightly slick, you thought you might actually go insane.

You were so caught up in the moment that it took a second longer than it should’ve to notice the cocky smile plastered across his face. He was watching you writhe under his touch like it was the best show he’d ever seen.

“You good up there?” he said teasingly. “Look like you’re about to combust.”

“Bastard,” you managed, and it sounded as breathless as you felt. You reached up to bury a hand in his hair, tugging on handfuls of messy waves and relishing in the way he cursed softly under his breath. “You’re a goddamn tease.”

He gave the underside of your breast one last wet kiss, then started pressing a line of kisses up your body towards your mouth. “A tease, am I?” He said between kisses, his voice still low and rough. “I don’t know, sounds more like I’m trying my best to be a gentleman instead of rushing into the action,”

“Some gentleman,” you laughed, and that time it came out more of a gasp than anything else. He’d drawn himself up to full height, looking down at you with a smirk that was half amused and half smug, and god, he was handsome. “You’ve got me half naked on your desk, I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of gentlemanly,”

“That’s not my fault,” he said, mock-offended, and you let out a bark of laughter. “You’re the one who started it. With the shirt, and the kissing. All my good intentions went right out the window,”

You were still giggling—his hand was now tracing idle circles on your hip, gentle and tender—but his touch was driving you insane. He was everywhere, burning through your skin, and all it did was make the heat beneath your ribs worse. You took a deep, shaking breath, trying to slow down your heart.

Your voice came out much more timid than you expected. “You’d probably better finish what you started, then.”

His eyes caught yours, and the smile that spread across his face sent a shiver straight down your spine. “Are you asking me to take your pants off, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes at the endearment, but it was impossible to stay irritated with the way your heart was jumping into your throat. “I’m asking you to take your pants off, actually,”

He raised an eyebrow, expression still cocky but edged with a touch of surprise. He looked so good like that—glasses missing, mouth pink and kiss-swollen, eyes fixed on your every move. “Consider it done,”

He took your chin in one hand, his touch almost teasing, tilting your head back to give himself full access to the line of your neck. His other hand drifted to rest on your side, pulling you away from the desk to push you over to his four-poster instead.

It was a bit undignified, stumbling backwards while he was still glued to your neck, but somehow you both managed to land in a heap on the mattress, with him on top. The sheets rustled in protest, and god, you could just feel his weight on top of you, pinning you to the mattress and setting fire to every point of contact.

You barely even noticed him pulling off his own shirt and pants, your mind too clouded with desire to pay attention. You just watched, taking in the sight of his bare chest and the sharp planes of his muscles, his lean and strong and all you could do was reach up to run your hands down across his shoulders—over the freckles and moles and scars that covered his skin.

He let out a strangled sound when your hands slid over the waistband of his boxers, his eyes fixed on your face, his whole body rigid under your touch as the fabric drags down his thighs. He was breathless, his breathing coming fast and shallow, but he still managed to speak.

“You seem to be missing a few things, if you haven’t noticed.” His voice was still that same, annoyingly smooth, but there was a rasp to it too. Like talking was suddenly more difficult than it should have been.

And yeah, okay, he had a point. You hadn’t even realised you were still wearing jeans until now, but it was quickly becoming an issue. He was still pinning you to the mattress, but you managed to lift your hips up under him enough to reach the zipper on your pants.

He sat back on his heels, watching you struggle out of your jeans—he reached down to help when your legs got tangled, and you swore the smirk on his face when he got the second leg off was almost wolfish. “Careful, there, you almost kneed me in the bollocks.”

“Too bad, I was aiming for them.”

He laughed, running a hand up your bare thigh, fingers tracing across the edge of your underwear and making your whole body burn. “Nice knickers.”

“Shut up,” you said, but your voice was already hoarse, half from the effort of talking and half from the way every little touch seemed to send lightning straight to the pit of your stomach. “You literally have snitches on your boxers, you’re not allowed to make fun of me,”

“For your information, they’re my lucky boxers,” he said, as if it was the most logical thing in the entire world. “And they seem to be working,”

You were about to comment on the ridiculousness of that statement, but then he let his hand brush over the damp patch in your panties and every thought in your head evaporated in about ten seconds flat. “Oh, fuck—”

His touch was agonising. Just a single, gentle stroke traced across the edge of your underwear, but it felt like being set on fire. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, still watching your face like the world’s most beautiful train wreck, and the way he’s smirking is just a little bit cruel. “Is this all because of me?”

You should’ve found the teasing infuriating—maybe even patronising, but your head was spinning and you were so turned on you couldn’t think straight. “You know it is,” you managed to gasp out, arching your hips up into his touch and desperately trying to find more friction.

His thumb pressed across your clit through your underwear and the gasp that came out of your mouth was practically obscene. “Good,” he said. “I like that.”

He was shifting back on top of you, and his mouth was on your neck, hot and wet and distracting, and you’d almost forgotten about his thumb until it moved again—a slow, torturous circle that had you whining. “God, you sound so good,” he murmured against your skin. “Can I take these off? Please?”

If you’d had even a second of self-control left, you probably would’ve found the way he was almost begging for it adorable, but as it was all you could manage to do was nod.

You felt more than heard him swear, and the next thing you know he’s hooking his fingers around the elastic of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with a speed that says he’s having trouble keeping his own eagerness in check.

He sat back once you were completely naked—just you, sprawled out on his four-poster, bare and trembling and wanting. Every part of you felt like it was on edge, like you’d fall apart as soon as he touched you again.

He was looking at you like he was starving, eyes wandering across every inch of your body. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, “Merlin, look at you,”

You couldn’t help but shiver under his gaze, the feeling of helplessness sending another jolt of heat down your spine. You’d almost gotten used to seeing that cocky smirk of his, but now it was gone—replaced by a look you couldn’t place, like he was in awe of you.

You watched helplessly as he shifted, his body covering yours again, bare skin against bare skin. His cock was already hard against your thigh and you were so empty that you knew nothing except the urge to have him as close to you as possible. “Please,” you managed to say, words a gasp as he traced a finger over your hip.

He groaned softly at the desperation in your voice, and then he was reaching down, his fingers finding your opening and sliding in. All you could do was moan out loud, clenching around him and aching for more. “God—” His voice was ragged, rough, like he was using all his willpower just to keep himself from going too fast. “That’s it. That’s it,” he murmured, his forehead dropping against your shoulder. “You’re so tight.”

“You’re gonna destroy me,” you gasped out, as he slowly started to pump his fingers in and out. “I—” Whatever you’d been about to say dissolved into another moan. “Please, just—”

“I’ve got you,” he said, and another kiss, against your collarbone. “I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you,” And then he added a third finger, and you were certain you wouldn’t even be able to string words together anymore.

“Oh god—oh, god—” Your back arched again, hips lifting off the bed, and he curled his fingers again and the pleasure of it was so sharp it almost hurt.

“Just like that? You like that?” He murmured softly against your skin.

You weren’t even sure how to answer that, your brain so overwhelmed by heat and pleasure that all you could do was let out a helpless whine.

He kept pumping his fingers, working you open, and you were trembling with the effort of trying not to let go just yet. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, and god, he was so cocky like this. “Just be patient—”

You gasped out something between a laugh and a moan. “Patient? You have some nerve—”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of nerve,” he said, and then he pulled his fingers out with another sound from your throat. You were about to complain, but he kissed you before you could—a brief brush of his mouth on yours that was so distracting you almost didn’t notice him moving until he was between your thighs.

He had one hand on your hip and the other wrapped around himself, and the way he’s looking at you makes your whole body ache.

“You ready?” He asked, and his voice is still rough and a little breathy. You nodded, words failing you, and the sound he made was almost desperate.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, and then the tip of his cock was right at your entrance and you were trembling so badly you were almost whimpering.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, and then he started to press in. It was a torturously slow stretch, every inch of him filling you like you were made for him. You’re still too full of him—you clench around him without meaning to, and all of him shudders.

“Oh my god,” he says, and it comes out like a gasp, and when he’s finally in all the way you feel like you might cry, like he’s touching all of those parts of you you’ve been waiting for him to find.

“Oh, god,” you moan, and it’s all you can manage. It’s just too much—the feeling of him, the stretch of your body, the heat in your ribs that you can’t seem to breathe around. It’s like he’s everywhere, and you’re not sure you want it to ever stop.

“I’ve got you,” he says, and he’s starting to move, “that’s it, breathe. Just feel me.” He leans down to kiss you, messy and sloppy, just a brush of open mouths before you’re arching off the bed and his lips are on your neck.

“You look so god damn good like this,” his thrusts are slow, deep, and they’re already driving you mad. “All spread out for me.” You can’t even answer him in words anymore, every sound slipping out of your mouth a high, breathy whine.

He keeps up his torturously slow pace for what feels like a small eternity, and every time he pushes in you can feel him against the inside of you, like your body was made to take him in. “You feel so good,” he’s murmuring, “God, why haven’t we done this before?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been a coward for the last three years—” Your response is humorous, lighthearted, and falls almost completely flat as it comes out more desperate than goading.

But everything feels so good—he feels so good, the slow drag of his cock filling you over and over, his hands on your thighs holding you open just for him, his teeth and mouth everywhere they can reach.

He laughs, the sound coming out as half-moan, and it’s incredible how he’s somehow still acting cheeky when he’s like this—like the whole world has shrunk down to the two of you and there’s still room for playfulness. “Maybe if you hadn’t been so blind you would’ve noticed me sooner,” he says, and he’s still teasing, like he isn’t literally inside you, and you’d hit him if you had the brainpower. “You could’ve had this the whole time.”

Your face is so flushed it feels like you’re on fire, every muscle in your body tense and trembling. You dig your nails into his shoulders, trying to find some kind of anchor. “You’re still a cocky bastard, you know that?” But it’s hard to keep up the banter, and all it comes out sounding like is a soft whine.

“I know,” he grins, and he’s so smug you’d almost hate him if you weren’t so desperate for him. “God why didn’t I know sex felt this good-?” He leans down again, his mouth hovering over yours, the heat of him so close that you can feel it and it burns.

“Maybe I’m just that good,” you manage to say—and yes, okay, your voice is half a gasp and the words are broken, breathless by the way he’s still moving inside you, but you still manage.

He laughs again, sharp and ragged at the edge, and you feel like you’re being unwound like some old toy, your whole body vibrating like a live wire. The stretch of him is almost too much to bear.

He’s still smirking when he says, “And you call me cocky,”

He’s picking up the pace, but only just enough to make you whine again, his head dipped to mouth at your throat again.

You’re so tight around him it’s like he’s trying to make you come apart one piece at a time, his breath warm against your skin as he keeps whispering. “But you’re right, you feel so damn good—”

He’s losing control, losing his smugness, because despite what he said about patience he looks like he’s ready to go over the edge already. But he’s still got that smirk on his face, like even now, when he’s all ragged breaths and desperate thrusts, he’s still teasing. “I should’ve done this sooner. Should’ve taken you back here back in fourth year. Should’ve had you like this when I first started thinking about you,”

His hands are on your hips, his thumbs digging into your hipbones like he’s trying to hold himself back from just snapping and going wild on you.

“Should’ve had every day in fifth year," he’s panting now, and he’s still going just as slow, making it feel like you’re being taken apart, piece by piece. “Would’ve been better than those stupid pranks.”

You can’t even laugh—you just can’t, every nerve in your body is set off like a firework. You manage, “You’re- you’re terrible,” but then you’re arching your hips up into him, your body taking over despite yourself.

“I’m terrible,” he agrees, but he’s grinning, he’s breathless and there’s a sweat on his forehead and he still looks infuriatingly gorgeous. “Doesn’t change the fact that I want you so bad I can’t think straight. Couldn’t, back then. Just followed you around like an idiot.”

“You were an idiot,” you manage, and he’s moving faster now, his arms shaking on either side of you. “You-ah—” You’re falling apart—you can feel it happening—“you were an arrogant bastard—”

He’s kissing your neck and it just makes you louder, your words coming out in ragged gasps. “I know,” he says, like he’s laughing, and you would want to smack him if he didn’t feel so good. “I was an arrogant bastard who was in love with you,”

The words hit you like a bolt of lightning. You open your mouth to respond, but right at that moment he thrusts in a way that hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white, and the sound that comes out of you is so indecent.

“You—oh, god—” You’re trembling, you’re coming undone underneath him, and he’s doing his best to keep up the pace but you can tell there’s something desperate taking over. “I’m- god, I can’t, I’m so-“

He’s losing more and more control, his breathing ragged and his own body shaking as like he’s just barely holding himself together.

“Please,” it comes out like a gasp, “just come for me, please, come on-” And he’s begging, now, like he couldn’t stand it another minute more, “I just want you to come, please, you’re so perfect—”

He’s pressing right against that spot, over and over, and you’re so on edge you think you might be dreaming. “I’m gonna— oh, god-”

His hand has snuck down between you, fingers moving in tight, fast circles on you clit, and everything is so close and so hot you could die— “God, you look perfect, come on, that’s it, you’re so good—“

The tension in you is snapping, and you’re on the edge, you’re so close you can’t see straight. “Please, I— I-“ you’re there, you’re there, you’re going to fall but he’s falling too.

“Come on, you’re so close, just come-“ He’s begging again, and you’re shaking so hard you feel like you might fall apart—and then you do, and the pleasure hits like a lightning bolt, and you’re crying out loud, the sound breaking like a whimper, and you feel like you’re going to fall apart.

“Oh, god-” His body’s shaking, the breath leaving his chest in ragged gasps, and you’re just clinging to him, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm and shaking so hard you think you might go insane. “Oh, god, oh, god-”

It didn’t really help that James was still going.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he’s saying, “God, you’re so beautiful, you’re so good, you’re so-“

Another wave comes over you like a shockwave, and it’s almost too much, you’re so sensitive and over-whelmed you feel like it’ll break you, but he’s still going, still moving inside you, still driving you straight through the edge of pleasure and over it into something bright-hot and almost frantic. “God, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come—“ He’s falling apart, and he’s never looked better. “I’ll pull out I promise—”

You can’t find the words to answer him, but you manage a nod, your whole body trembling as you cling to him.

He swore, and he’d almost be swearing with that same cocky smirk if it weren’t for the fact that he’s falling apart completely, gasping out “You’re gonna kill me, you’re gonna-”

His whole body trembles, and then he’s pulling out, just in time, his body going rigid, his mouth finding yours in a messy, desperate sort of kiss. And he’s still shaking, still panting against your skin, his forehead pressed against yours like he’s never going to let go, watery ropes of his come left decorating your pussy and your torso.

“Fuck,” he’s panting, and he’s still shaking but there’s a smile on his face, like he’s drunk and blissed out and just happy. “Just- give me a minute, just a minute-”

You just lie there, feeling like you’ve just been set on fire and left to burn, and he’s pressing kisses wherever he can reach, on your neck, your temple, the corner of your mouth, until both of you are finally still, just lying wrapped up in each other.

He’s wrapped himself around you like he’ll never move again, his face buried in your neck, and your whole body feels like it’s come unglued.

After a few minutes, he lifts his head to look at you, and that smirk is back, the bastard. “So,” he says, and there’s a sly look in his eyes. “Did I live up to the hype?”

“There was no hype, James, you were a virgin,” You laugh shortly with a roll of your eyes, shifting your legs a little wider open to accommodate for the stickiness between them.

“Ouch.” He winces dramatically. “You’re gonna ruin my ego.”

He’s looking at you with so much heat you’re half-convinced he’s about to go for round two, but then he shifts, pulling away to lie down next to you, your legs tangled together. He’s still grinning, a smug sort of half-smile on his face.

“Don’t look so damn pleased with yourself,” you grumble, but you’re still so buzzed up and he’s looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

He’s looking at you with a kind of reverence you’ve never seen before, but he covers it up with the same stupid smirk he always wears. “So,” he says, like he’s casually mentioning the weather. “You, uh… had fun?”

You laugh—that’s a severe understatement of the year—and you can’t help but smile at the boyish enthusiasm in his expression. “Yeah,” you say, a little softer. “I did.”

He grins at that, and then he’s rolling on top of you again, covering you with his body like a blanket. “I’m assuming that means we can do this again sometime.”

The words come out as the same obnoxious cockiness, still cocky and self-assured, but there’s something almost… nervous underneath it, like he’s not really being blasé at all. You hum, tilting your chin back enough that he can bury his face in your neck. “Yeah,” you say, and you wrap your arms around his back, tracing the knobs of his spine with your fingers. “Yeah, we can probably do this again. But maybe take me on a date first next time,” You laugh.

He grins against your neck, his mouth still leaving lazy kisses on every part of your skin it can reach. “That’s fair,” he murmurs, and his breath on your neck sends a shiver through you. “I have to romance you first. I can do that.” His teeth nip at your earlobe, and you can feel the sharp edge of of a grin. “I could even be a gentleman about it, if you wanted.”

“You? Be a gentleman?” You fake gasp, like it’s the most ridiculous suggestion you’ve ever heard. “Absolutely unheard of.”

He snorts, and you can feel the smile on his mouth, hot and wet against your skin. “You’re laughing, but I could be incredibly charming if I wanted to,” He’s still just mouthing at you, running his teeth over the soft underside of your jaw. “You read my letters,”

“Yeah,” you admit, almost against your will. “I did.”

He pulls back to look at you with a lazy, smug half-smile. “And they were charming?”

You roll your eyes at him, but you’re still smiling. “They were… acceptable.”

“Acceptable,” he sighs sadly, mock-disappointed. “I don’t know how I feel about being reduced to ‘acceptable’. I put a lot of work into those letters, you know.”

But he’s grinning, his chin propped up on your chest with his chin, like he’s waiting to get a response. “Come on. I’m at least worth ‘good,’ right?”

“Yeah, alright,” you give in, even though ‘good’ isn’t nearly enough to describe his letters. “They were good. They were… nice.”

He pouts, like a kid who did a drawing and didn’t get a gold star. “Nice? Jesus, you do not understand the concept of positive reinforcement.”

“Sorry,” you say, with your best attempt at earnestness, “how about this? They were fantastic. World class even. You should be writing love letters professionally.”

It takes him a moment of studying you to realise you’re joking, but then he sighs in mock-agony, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t believe I’ve fallen for a girl who’s mean to me,”

“Yeah,” you say, and you’re laughing, now, your whole body shaking with gales of laughter. “You’re really just… the world’s biggest loser.”

He huffs good-naturedly, his face still hidden in your neck. “Says the girl whose been attracted to me for years,”

“Says the boy who wrote me sappy-ass love letters like a Victorian maiden,” you retort.

He laughs at that, but it’s not mean or mocking. “It’s a wonder you didn’t catch on, honestly,” he mutters jokingly, “I laid it on so thick I thought even you would see me pining tragically through all the ink I used to write about how obsessed with you I was.”

You bite back a smile at that, rolling your eyes at his mock-exasperation. “God, you’re dramatic.”

His mouth presses a soft, wet kiss under your jaw, and he murmurs against your skin—“You like it, though.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

And he’s right, because you do—you do like him, when he’s all bluster and bravado and bullshit, and you like him like this too, when he’s gentle and reverent and a tad bit vulnerable. “Yeah,” you say, and it’s soft. “I do.”

[melanchoire]

KILLER ──── yu jimin & ahn yujin

── ( 🌹 ) you’ve always admired karina and yujin from afar, but when fate brings you together for a year-end festival performance, you find yourselves caught in a whirlwind of flirtation and intrigue, blurring the lines between art and passion in a way you never saw coming.

pairing. mean dom!karina x sub!lssrfm 6th member!fem reader x switch!yujin

warning(s). bitting, cunnilingus, cursing, degradation, fingering, hair pulling, humiliation, jealousy, making out, nipple play, pet names, semi exhibitionism, spanking, squirting.

word count. 7.3k

the air crackles with excitement and anticipation as you stand backstage at the sbs gayo daejeon, the end-of-year festival that celebrates the pinnacle of k-pop talent. your heart pounds in your chest, an exhilarating rhythm that matches the pulsating beat of the songs echoing from the main stage. today, you would have the unique opportunity to collaborate with two of the industry’s most mesmerizing stars: karina from aespa and yujin from ive. just the thought sends a shiver down your spine—both of them are known for their electrifying stage presence and undeniable charisma, each capable of commanding the audience's attention with just a flick of a wrist or a flash of a smile.

the lights dim, and the audience erupts in cheers, signaling that another group has taken the stage. you glance at the crew bustling about, adjusting microphones and setting the stage. everything feels surreal, like a vivid dream you’re unsure you want to wake from. you’ve watched these performances from the safety of your couch, eyes glued to the screen, marveling at the talent of others. but now, here you are—about to step into the spotlight yourself.

you fidget with the hem of your outfit, a sleek ensemble that feels foreign against your skin. it’s stunning, of course, designed to make you look every bit the star you’ve trained to be. but all you can focus on is the gnawing insecurity deep within you. would you be able to match the presence of your collaborators?

karina, with her ethereal beauty and powerful vocals, has taken the world by storm. her ability to blend fierce energy with captivating visuals has made her a household name. she dances with a fluidity that seems almost supernatural, her movements a perfect blend of strength and grace. you've watched her perform countless times, her movements a seamless blend of grace and power, especially when she dances to her solo song "UP!" her confidence radiates, setting the bar for every performer who steps foot on stage. you can only imagine the electric atmosphere she generates, and the thought of sharing the stage with her sends a jolt of both excitement and fear through your veins.

then there's yujin. since her debut, she has been a force of nature, a whirlwind of charm and charisma and you’ve always admired her—how she effortlessly steals the spotlight during each comeback, whether it's in a sophisticated ensemble like "I AM" or a more edgy concept like "BADDIE." her charisma is palpable, her presence overwhelming. yujin has an innate ability to connect with the audience, to draw them into her world with just a smile or a gaze. it’s hard not to get lost in her captivating smile and effortless performance style. in a world where everyone is striving for perfection, she stands out, effortlessly capturing hearts and making it look so easy. you remember watching her from the sidelines at various events, thinking: “will i ever be able to perform with that kind of confidence?”

you can’t help but feel overshadowed by their brilliance. they are known for their incredible stage presence, their ability to engage and enthrall. but you? you’re the quiet one, the one who shies away from the spotlight even in the warmth of your group members’ company. yes, you've had your moments on stage, but always with the comfort of your teammates around you, their energy bolstering yours.

while your groupmates seem to flirt and play around with ease, you often stand at the edges of those conversations, a spectator in a world that seems just a touch too bright, too loud for you to jump in. you have had brief interactions with karina and yujin before, perhaps a shy wave or a quick exchange of compliments, but nothing that would prepare you for this collaboration, where you would have to hold your own against their vibrant personalities.

the announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, calling your names, and your stomach flips. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. this is your moment. you’ve practiced countless times, poured your heart into the choreography, and learned the nuances of the song "killer," a sultry piece that’s all about confidence and allure. but now, standing here, you wonder if you truly have it in you.

your thoughts are interrupted when you feel warm hands at your hips. you turn to find yunjin smiling brightly at you, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the chaos. "you’re going to be amazing," she says, her voice bright and encouraging. "just remember, it’s all about having fun. No one’s here to judge you!"

her playful words wash over you like a gentle wave, pushing your worries to the side. she continues to rattle off a few inside jokes that make you chuckle, reminding you that you’re not alone in this. behind her, the rest of your members appear, offering you their unwavering support. sakura, with her calm demeanor, gives you a thumbs-up, while chaewon brings you into a tight embrace. kazuha, ever the optimist, grins at you and nods, her energy infectious. eunchae bounces on her toes, her excitement palpable, “you’ve got this!”

the embrace from your members wraps around you like a warm cocoon. for a fleeting moment, the anxiety begins to dissipate, replaced by the love and camaraderie that define your group. their faith in you feels like a lifeline, tethering you to the moment and providing a flicker of confidence. but as the sound of the mc's voice filters through the chaos backstage, signaling your imminent entrance, the butterflies return, dancing wildly in your stomach.

suddenly, the staff signals for you to head to the stage, and your heart pounds harder. you can hear the crowd roaring in anticipation, a cacophony of cheers and applause that sends adrenaline surging through your veins. you share one last glance with your groupmates, and they all nod at you, a silent promise that they’ll be cheering from the sidelines.

taking a deep breath, you step out onto the stage, the bright lights washing over you like a wave. the audience, a sea of eager faces, blurs into the background as you focus on the music that begins to play. your heart races not just from the excitement but from the overwhelming pressure of meeting expectations—yours and those of the fans.

when you step onto the stage, the world outside fades into obscurity. you are cocooned in a warm glow, bright lights shining down upon you and the unmistakable hum of excitement from the crowd filling your ears. it’s your moment, and you’re ready to seize it. in the center, you stand shoulder to shoulder with your backup dancers, their energy pulsating around you. at one end of the stage, karina stands with her back to the camera, radiating an enigmatic aura as she awaits the cue to sing. at the other end, yujin beams at the audience, her charming smile lighting up the room.

as you take in the sight of your two groupmates, a thrill runs through you. karina catches your eye, a smirk playing on her lips as she shakes her head, dismissing whatever playful banter you might have exchanged moments earlier. you feel a twinge of challenge in her gaze; it’s a silent dare that stirs something deep inside you. when you turn your attention to yujin, however, everything shifts. her grin is infectious, a bright spark that ignites a warmth in your chest. she waves lightly, a small wink sent your way that sends your heart racing.

but there’s little time to dwell on these feelings as the music begins to swell, an intoxicating melody that envelops you. the beat drops, and the moment karina starts singing, a wave of calm washes over you. her voice is a smooth, inviting embrace, allowing you to fall into the rhythm of the performance. you’ve practiced, but here, in this moment, you find a surprising ease. perhaps it’s the thrill of the sensual concept you’re tackling for the first time, or maybe it’s the undeniable chemistry among the three of you.

as the song progresses, your shy, reserved persona melts away and the transformation is remarkable. the shy girl the fans have come to know fades into the background, replaced by a bold and vibrant persona. you’ve never explored a sensual concept like this, but something about tonight feels right, like destiny calling. your body moves with the rhythm, and the choreography calls for something deeper—a sensuality that intertwines with each movement, drawing you closer to karina and yujin.

you notice how they both fit seamlessly into this seductive concept, their voices intertwining like threads of silk, creating a tapestry of sound that captivates the audience. karina’s low, sultry notes contrast beautifully with yujin’s bright and playful tones, both of them showcasing their strengths. Y

you are the third voice, harmonizing with them, but also pushing the boundaries of the choreography. It’s exhilarating.

the movements are fluid, a dance that flows between desire and restraint. there’s a moment where you’re touching karina, your hand gliding up her arm, and the connection sends electric shocks through your body. you meet her gaze, and there’s an understanding in her eyes—a mutual acknowledgment of the moment that sends your pulse racing. the way she bites her lip, a hint of mischief sparking in her expression, gives you the courage to continue.

you know what you’re doing, yet the thrill of it is intoxicating. you push the limits, letting your hands linger a moment longer than the choreography dictates. you feel the heat of the stage, the intensity of the performance, and the adrenaline that rushes through you. it’s not just dancing; it’s an unspoken dialogue, a flirty banter exchanged through each movement.

yujin is the cherry on top of this decadent cake. when she glances your way, that radiant grin reaffirms your confidence. the way she moves, with a blend of elegance and playful charm, is mesmerizing. you catch her eye as you slide your hand over her thigh during one of the sultry movements. it’s deliberate, a tease that feels electrifying. her breath catches for a fraction of a second, but then she smiles wider, as if inviting you to play.

you notice how the dance is designed to bring the three of you together, creating a palpable tension that makes the air thick with unspoken chemistry. there’s a deliberate intimacy in the choreography: sliding hands along arms, teasing glances, lingering touches. with each movement, you feel your confidence growing, and as the spotlight shines down, illuminating every curve and angle, you allow yourself to embrace the boldness you’ve found.

the audience’s cheers swell around you, drowning out any doubt or hesitation. you lose yourself in the performance, riding the wave of excitement, a primal instinct taking over as you navigate the choreography. the sensual touches become a language of their own—sliding your hands along karina’s waist, brushing against yujin's arms. each connection, each fleeting touch, feels like an unspoken promise.

this is not just a performance; it’s an exploration. your hands glide across their bodies, exploring, teasing, igniting a fire that simmers beneath the surface. when you lock eyes with yujin again, her playful expression urges you on, and you find yourself pushing boundaries, taking risks you wouldn’t have dared to consider before. you let your fingers slide from her shoulder down to her collarbone, brushing against her neck in a movement that feels almost magnetic.

you can’t help but notice the intensity of their gazes, the way they watch you, and it makes you feel alive. you thrive under the spotlight, every moment resonating with the cheers of the audience, fueling your daring. it’s intoxicating, like stepping into a dream where you can be anyone, someone fierce and confident, unafraid of what might come next.

as the music shifts, you find yourself at the edge of a crescendo, the beat pulsing wildly as you prepare for the final sequence. the choreography calls for a break dance, and as yujin takes her seat, and you and karina kneel on chairs behind her, anticipation crackling in the air. you share a knowing glance with karina before your focus shifts back to yujin.

you perform the head rotation together, a synchronized move that brings you even closer to her. when yujin begins to sing her part, her voice is a beautiful melody that wraps around you like silk. then comes the moment when you and karina place your hands on yujin’s shoulders, ready to lift one leg in a clean, sensual movement. but as you slide your hand down yujin’s shoulder, the touch is softer than intended. your fingers brush against her collarbone, trailing playfully down to her neck. it’s unexpected, and you can feel the tension in the air shift. the audience gasps collectively, but it’s the way yujin’s eyes widen for a split second before she regains her composure that sends your heart racing.

the thrill of the performance peaks, and you can feel the crowd’s energy erupting, as if they can sense the chemistry simmering between the three of you. the moment is electric, and as your fingers linger a heartbeat longer than necessary, a rush of heat spreads across your cheeks.

when the performance ends, the applause rings in your ears, but your mind is still buzzing. you share triumphant smiles with karina and yujin, each of you riding the high of the performance. but when the lights dim, and the cameras shift away from the three of you, you notice something that makes your heart skip a beat.

karina’s gaze is locked onto you, a smirk still playing on her lips. there’s a fierce intensity in her eyes, something deeper that you hadn’t noticed before, and it sends a rush of warmth through your body. but it’s yujin who catches your breath. she’s watching you with a look that is almost predatory, her charming smile replaced by something more charged, more dangerous.

you take a step back, heart racing, feeling exposed under their scrutiny. the teasing glances you exchanged earlier now seem to hold a weight you hadn’t anticipated. there's electricity in the air, a connection that feels almost palpable.

in that moment, you’re caught between the two of them, each exuding their own allure and charm. karina, with her bold confidence and smirk that promises mischief; yujin, with her radiant smile and eyes that glimmer with something more than mere friendship. you can feel the tension thickening, and for a fleeting second, you wonder if perhaps there’s something more behind those gazes.

you’ve just come off the stage, adrenaline coursing through your veins, the echoes of cheers still ringing in your ears. the performance was electric; every move, every beat resonated with the crowd, and you can still feel the heat of the spotlight. as you stride towards your dressing room, the noise of the world outside fades away, leaving only the rush of your own heartbeat and the thrill of collaboration with karina and yujin lingering in your mind.

the door swings open, and you step inside, immediately met with the soft glow of the room’s lights. your heart rate begins to settle, and you reach for a bottle of water on the table, taking a long, refreshing gulp. you lean against the cool surface, savoring the moment of stillness. the stage may have been a whirlwind, but this was your sanctuary.

as you make your way to the plush couch in the corner, the soft fabric welcoming you like an old friend, you hear the door creak open behind you. karina and yujin stride in, their energy still crackling, filling the small space with a palpable tension.

“hey!” karina says, a hint of something serious in her tone as she stands directly in front of you, blocking your path. “did you enjoy the performance?”

you look up, meeting her gaze. there’s something in the intensity of her eyes that makes you hesitate. “yeah, it was fun,” you reply vaguely, hoping to downplay her curiosity. but as you attempt to sidestep her, she’s quick to take a step closer.

but she doesn’t let you off the hook. “fun?” she echoes, her voice laced with skepticism. “it looked like you were having a lot more than just fun with us out there. you seemed quite happy being... touchy.” she presses, her eyes narrowing playfully yet intensely.

a rush of heat floods your cheeks at her words, and you try to sidestep her again, seeking refuge in the comfort of the couch, but she’s faster. her fingers wrap around your forearm, gently but firmly holding you in place. “what’s the rush? you don’t want to talk about it?”

you try to step around her, but she moves in front of you, her presence blocking your way. “c’mon, just answer me,” she insists.

“seriously? can’t you just let me breathe for a second?” you attempt to sound annoyed, but there’s an undercurrent of tension you can’t shake off.

then, as you make an attempt to back away, you collide with yujin, who had been standing quietly behind you. the sudden contact sends a jolt through your body, your back hitting her chest. you look over your shoulder, and she flashes a teasing smile that sends shivers down your spine.

“oh, what’s this?” yujin coos, her voice playful yet laced with challenge. “i didn’t know that beneath that shy personality, there’s a little attention-seeker trying to come out… a hidden whore craving attention.”

you open your mouth to retort, but the words falter as karina’s hand suddenly grips your face, squeezing your cheeks slightly to redirect your focus onto her. “uh-uh,” she says with a mocking tone, her expression unreadable yet intoxicating. “you’re in no position to give attitude right now. you’ve already had more than enough fun out there.” her tone is teasing, but there’s an edge to it, one that makes your stomach flutter.

you try to wriggle free, but her grip is surprisingly strong. Instead, you find yourself looking deep into her eyes, a silent conversation passing between you. there’s mischief there, and something deeper that makes you hesitate.

the room grows thick with tension as karina holds your gaze, her eyes speaking a language of their own. you can feel the air crackling between the three of you, a magnetic pull that is hard to resist. your heart races even faster, an exhilarating mix of anxiety and excitement flooding your system.

“honestly,” karina continues, her voice softening slightly, “i think you deserve to be put in your place.” the way she says it is both a challenge and an invitation, leaving your mind spinning.

the tension in the room thickens, and you catch yujin’s gaze as she watches the exchange with an amused smirk, her own intentions simmering just beneath the surface. in that moment, it feels as though the air around you is charged, electric with unspoken desires and possibilities.

before you can process her words or even find your own, karina grips a handful of your hair, her fingers threading through the strands as she pulls you closer. the world outside fades away, and in a heartbeat, her lips crash against yours, initiating a kiss that is both passionate and messy—a collision of desires that leaves you breathless.

you’re caught off guard, your heart pounding in your chest as the kiss deepens. karina’s lips move against yours with a fervor that ignites something inside you. her other hand cradles your jaw, tilting your face just right as if she’s molding you to fit perfectly against her.

in that moment of dizzying intensity, you barely register the warmth of yujin as she sidles up behind you. her hands slide around your hips, and you can feel her breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “you really do like this attention, don’t you?” she murmurs, her tone sultry and teasing.

you’re torn between responding and getting lost in the sensations swirling around you. karina’s grip on your hair tightens just enough to remind you of her presence, of her ownership, while yujin’s fingers trail up your sides, brushing against your skin through the fabric of your outfit.

the moment is intoxicating, overwhelming. yujin’s hands glide around your waist, pulling you closer as she leans in to kiss your jaw, trailing soft, warm kisses along your neck and shoulder. you gasp at the sensation, the way her lips graze your skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever she touches. you can’t help but lean into her, surrendering to the intoxicating mixture of thrill and lust. that's when she bites gently at your skin, leaving small red marks that ache and throb with a tantalizing heat, making it difficult to suppress the soft whimper that escapes your lips.

karina, noticing your reaction, pulls back slightly to look you in the eye, her expression a mix of mischief and satisfaction. “c'mon, focus on me now. you've already given her enough attention there on stage, it's my turn now.”

yujin laughs softly, a sound that seems to reverberate through you. “i think she enjoys having the attention of both of us at the same time, don't you?” she teases, her fingers still exploring the curves of your body with an unabashed confidence that leaves you dizzy.

“wait—” you begin, but karina’s lips crash against yours again, silencing any protests you might have had. you can’t help but melt into the kiss, responding in kind, feeling your inhibitions slip away as the thrill of the moment takes over.

“look at you...” karina murmurs against your lips, her voice low and sultry, as her fingers tighten in your hair. “always all shy and sweet for your fans, but here you are…” she kisses you again, deeper this time, as if she wants to consume you entirely. you can taste the heat of her breath, feel the urgency in her touch, and it drives you wild.

yujin’s fingers begin to explore, finding their way under your shirt, teasingly grazing the skin of your stomach. “i think you’ve been hiding too much.” she whispers, her breath warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “time to let go, don’t you think?”

yujin’s hands travel boldly, her fingers finding their way to your breasts, teasing over the fabric of your top. you gasp into the kiss, your body arching slightly as she pushes against you, her warmth enveloping you from behind. the sensation is electric, a shocking jolt that resonates through your entire being.

“don’t act so surprised.” karina whispers against your lips, her breath warm and inviting. “you know you love this.”

there’s a part of you that wants to deny it, to push back against this surge of overwhelming desire. but as yujin continues to grind against your ass, her body a warm, intoxicating presence behind you, and karina’s lips dance against yours, you realize that the barriers you’ve built are crumbling.

you moan softly, the sound escaping your lips before you can even think to hold it back. it’s a surrender, a realization that perhaps this is what you’ve been yearning for all along—an escape from the confines of your carefully constructed persona as a k-pop idol, a chance to explore the wild and the sensual, the playful and the forbidden.

“you’re finally letting go.” karina murmurs, a satisfied smile breaking across her lips as she pulls away just enough to see your expression. “that’s more like it.”

you can see the approval in her eyes, and it sends a thrill through you, fueling the fire that’s already igniting between you. with each passing moment, the dressing room feels smaller, more intimate, as if the world outside has faded away entirely.

yujin leans in, her voice low and teasing. “are you ready for us to show you just how much fun this can be?”

and in that moment, you realize that the performance may have ended, but the real show is only just beginning.

before you can answer yujin, karina sweeps the contents of the vanity desk with her arm, sending makeup and hair tools tumbling to the floor in a cascade of chaos. lipsticks roll like marbles, and a hair dryer clatters loudly, disrupting the serene quiet that had cloaked the afternoon.

you hear the sound before you see it—a chaotic crash of makeup and hair tools clattering to the floor, a cacophony that sends a chill of foreboding through your spine. the world narrows into a singular focus, and you turn your head just in time to catch karina's wild, determined gaze. she is a force of nature, an unpredictable storm, and you feel the air shift as she strides toward you, intent on asserting her will.

before you can utter a word of protest, karina’s hand shoots out, seizing a handful of your hair. it stings, a sharp reminder of her dominance, and with a single fluid motion, she pushes you forward onto the vanity desk. your stomach collides with the cold, unyielding surface, and a rush of indignation bubbles within you. you manage to stifle a hiss, pressing your hands against the smooth wood to cushion the impact, though you can’t hide the frown twisting your lips.

the world around you blurs for a moment. the mix of perfumes, the mess on the floor, and the growing feeling of vulnerability all combine to cloud your thoughts. you blink rapidly, trying to ground yourself in this bizarre situation.

you feel your heart racing in your chest as you lie there, vulnerable and caught off guard. you glance sideways, and there, standing before you with a confident smirk, is yujin. her heels click against the tiled floor, echoing like a metronome counting down to some inevitable climax. she crosses her arms, a smug grin spreading across her face, eyes twinkling with amusement. the sight of her fills you with a mix of dread and defiance.

“look at you...” she says, her tone playful but edged with a hint of authority. “in no position to complain now, are you?”

you want to answer her, to unleash the sharp-tongued retort bubbling in your throat, but before you can articulate the words, karina’s fingers deftly hook the waistband of your pants. the sensation sends a shiver down your spine, a mixture of dread and adrenaline surging through you. she pulls your pants down in one swift motion, and a sharp slap lands on your exposed ass, earning a gasp from you that surprises even yourself.

“what the—!” you feel the heat creeping up your face, a rush of embarrassment flooding through your veins. you can’t believe this is happening. you’re caught between wanting to fight back and the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“oh, don’t act so shocked.” yujin purrs, leaning closer. her voice is a smooth whisper, and despite the chaos, there’s a teasing lilt to it that stirs something deep inside you. “you brought this upon yourself.”

“i didn’t do anything!” you protest, the indignation bubbling in your chest. but even as you say it, you can feel the heat of their gazes, the weight of their laughter wrapping around you like a cozy blanket that you don’t want to wear.

karina leans closer, her breath warm against your ear, and the way she looks at you sends a shiver down your spine. “be a good girl and accept it, will you?” she murmurs.

she hooked her fingers in the waistband of your panties and yanked them down your legs, letting them drop to your ankles. then she settles between your spread thighs, her hands gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them apart. she leaned in, dragging the flat of her tongue up your slit in one slow, teasing lick. she hummed in approval at the taste of you, her fingers digging into your flesh.

feeling karina's mouth on your pussy, your head fell forward against the desk with a thunk, along with a breathy moan escaping your lips.

karina delved between your thighs, her tongue swirling around your clit before sucking the sensitive bud between her lips. her hands slid around to grip your hips, pulling you harder against her hungry mouth as she ate you out with wild abandon. the obscene sounds of her tongue and lips working your pussy filled the room, mingling with the pulsing beat of the music outside.

but before anything else can happen, yujin places her hand under your chin, lifting your face up so you're looking at her.

“i wanna have fun too, pretty girl.” without hesitation, she stepped back and quickly unbuttoned her tight leather pants, shimmying out of them to reveal a pair of skimpy, black lace panties underneath.

as yujin kicks her pants aside, she turns to the table, swinging one leg over the table and placing one foot on the surface, almost straddling your face. she wore a pair of panties that left little to the imagination, the damp patch at the crotch betraying her arousal. towering over you, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband and slowly peeled them down, revealing her glistening pussy, bare and ready.

“fuck, hurry up, i need your tongue inside me.” yujin panted, gripping your hair and pulling your face against her wet heat. she ground her hips forward, smearing her juices all over your lips and chin, coating your mouth with her essence.

you dove forward eagerly, burying your face between yujin's spread thighs. the scent of her arousal filled your nostrils as you leaned in to run your tongue along her glistening slit, tasting her essence for the first time. yujin gasped and shuddered above you, her hips rocking forward to press her pussy harder against your mouth.

“oh fuck, just like that.” she groaned, tangling her fingers in your hair and holding you in place. her grip tightened as you began to explore her folds more thoroughly, your tongue delving between them to taste her deeply.

meanwhile, karina behind you hums in approval at your taste, lapping at your folds with renewed enthusiasm. she zeroed in on your clit, circling the sensitive bud with the tip of her tongue before sucking it between her lips. two fingers delved into your wet channel, pumping in and out as she ate you out with single-minded focus.

yujin's musky flavor exploded on your tongue as you licked and sucked at her most intimate places. you focused your attention on her clit, circling and flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of your tongue before sucking it between your lips. yujin's grip on your hair tightened even more, her thighs trembling around your head as she ground herself against your face.

keeping one hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place, she raised the other to the hem of her tight top, sneaking her free hand underneath her shirt. she cupped the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing them roughly as you continued to devour her pussy. her fingers plucked at her nipples, rolling and tugging on the sensitive buds as she writhed beneath your oral attentions. yujin let out a low moan, her head falling back as sparks of pleasure shot straight to her core.

the sight of her touching herself, putting on a show just for you, only heightened your own building arousal.

behind you, karina could feel your body tensing, your muscles pulling taut as your orgasm approached. she curled her fingers inside your pussy, stroking that special spot deep within as she licked and sucked mercilessly at your clit. karina's free hand slid around your hip, finding your ass and squeezing the cheek hard.

yujin was just as close, her hips bucking erratically against your face as she grabbed her tits with wild abandon. she pinched and tugged at her stiff nipples, sending jolts of pleasure ricocheting through her body. her pussy clenched and throbbed, dripping arousal down your chin as she rutted against you.

yujin's breath came faster, her chest heaving as she continued to grope and tease her tits, putting on a show for you. her grip on your hair tightened, pulling you harder against her dripping cunt as she rutted her hips against your face, chasing her pleasure. “don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop.” yujin cried out, her voice ragged with lust.

karina stands up, leaning over your body still lying on the table, pressing her chest against your back. “fuck, look at you, taking both of us so well, making yujin feel so good…” she purred, nipping at your shoulder before sucking a dark mark into your skin. her fingers picked up speed, fucking into you harder, faster, the wet sounds of your coupling growing louder. “you're such a dirty girl, getting off on being used like this. i love it.”

karina revealed the power she had over you, in the way your thighs trembled and your stomach muscles fluttered under her touch. she could feel you teetering on the edge, your pussy clenching around her plunging fingers. “now be a darling for me and make yujin cum, will you? since you had the guts to play the role of the daring girl on stage when you were with us, i hope you can put that attitude on now too.”

again, karina drops to her knees, burying her face between your thighs and giving her full attention to your pussy again. she held you in place, pinning you against the desk with her body as she devoured your pussy like a starving woman.

she could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around her plunging fingers as your climax approached rapidly. she curled her digits just right, rubbing that spongey spot deep inside that made your toes curl in your hells. at the same time, she sealed her lips around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud hard as she flicked her tongue over it rapidly. the filthy wet sounds of her tongue and fingers working you over filled the cubicle, punctuated by your desperate whimpers and moans, oh, and yujin's babbling moans and heavy breathing.

“that's it, baby girl.” karina growled, her voice muffled against your sex. “come for us. let go and come all over my fingers like the dirty little slut you are.”

the combination of karina's filthy words and the intense stimulation proved too much. with a final hard suck to your clit and a deep thrust of her fingers, karina sent you hurtling over the precipice your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls spasming uncontrollably around her digits as you gushed your release into her eager mouth. karina drank you down greedily, prolonging your pleasure until you were a shaking, boneless mess against the desk.

you screamed your pleasure into yujin's cunt, the sound vibrating deliciously against her sensitive flesh. yujin cried out, her own climax slamming into her as she grinded your face against her dripping sex. she came hard, her juices flooding your mouth as she shuddered and convulsed, her tits bouncing in her hands as she pinched and tugged her nipples mercilessly.

karina continued to stroke your spasming walls, milking every last drop of pleasure from your quaking body. the two of them worked you through your intense orgasm, fingers and mouth never stopping until they had wrung every last drop of pleasure from your quivering body. finally, with a shudder and a gasp, you slumped against the table, utterly spent and satisfied.

in front of you, yujin slowly came down from her high, her grip on your hair loosening as she caught her breath. she looked down at you with a satisfied, almost feral grin, taking in the sight of you, debauched and panting, still buried between her thighs.

yujin licked her lips, still flushed and panting from her intense orgasm. she gazed down at you with a wicked, satisfied smirk, taking in your disheveled appearance; hair mussed from her grip, cheeks flushed, and lips glistening with her essence. she could see the way your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, the evidence of your shared pleasure splattered on your skin.

as the aftershocks of your shared orgasms began to subside, yujin reluctantly pulled your face away from her sensitive pussy. she helped you sit up, her hands roaming over your curves appreciatively as she took in your disheveled state.

”fuck, that was so hot.” yujin purred, her voice low and rough from her cries of ecstasy. she slid off the table, standing on wobbly legs before tugging you up by your hair. her other hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet her heated gaze. she leaned in, hovering her lips a mere breath away from yours, letting you feel the weight of her arousal. “you're fucking incredible baby.” she breathed against your mouth before closing the distance and kissing you deeply, tasting herself on your tongue.

but of course, once again, you turned all your attention to yujin again. and to no one's surprise, that wasn't something karina liked.

as yujin kissed you, karina emerged from between your thighs, stood up and pressed herself against your back. she grabbed a fistful of your hair, gripping it tightly as she pulled your head back, separating you from yujin and forcing you to look up at her.

she withdrew her soaked fingers from your dripping pussy, bringing them to your lips. she tapped your bottom lip with the slick digits, smearing your own arousal across your mouth. “open your mouth.” karina purred, her voice a low, seductive growl.

somewhat bewildered, you didn't react immediately to her request. karina's expression changed almost instantly, the discontent on her face was evident when she saw that you didn't comply with her order when she was more than gentle and clear with you.

“i said "open your mouth".” she repeats her own words, however, her tone is more authoritative and demanding, a clear difference from the first time. without waiting for you to respond, she wrapped the strands of your hair around her hand, pulling them in a harsh tug, drawing a gasp from you and forcing your mouth open.

karina plunged her fingers inside, not giving you a chance to resist as she shoved them in deep, pushing them in and out, fucking your throat with her hand. “that's it baby, clean up the mess you made on my fingers...”

at the same time, karina shoved her other hand under your chin, gripping your jaw and forcing your mouth open even wider as she pumped her fingers faster, harder, hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust. drool dripped down your chin, your eyes watering from the intensity of her actions. “i bet you fucking love having your throat used like this, don't you? love being treated like a set of holes for us to use?”

karina abruptly pulled her fingers out of your mouth, leaving your jaw slack and your chest heaving. a string of saliva connected her slick digits to your bottom lip before breaking, dripping down onto your heaving chest. karina licked her fingers clean, savoring your combined tastes with a wicked grin.

“mmmh, you taste fucking divine.” karina purred, her voice a low, rough rasp. she released your hair and gripped your chin instead, tilting your face up to force you to meet her intense, lust-filled gaze. her other hand slid down your throat, feeling the way your pulse raced beneath her touch.

she leaned in close, her face mere inches from yours. you could feel her hot breath ghosting over your lips, smell the faint hint of sweat and perfume that clung to her skin. her icy brown eyes bored into yours, filled with a hunger that made your core clench with anticipation.

“you're fucking gorgeous like this, all disheveled and desperate.” karina murmured, her voice a low, seductive purr. her hand slid from your chin to wrap around the back of your neck, long fingers tangling in your hair as she gripped it tightly. she used her hold on you to yank your head back, exposing the column of your throat to her greedy mouth.

karina's lips crashed against your neck, her teeth sinking into the tender skin as she marked you as hers. she licked and sucked at the reddening skin, no doubt leaving a vivid hickey in her wake. her other hand slid down your spine, gripping your ass and pulling your hips flush against hers.

“i know you're craving more…”

her eyes, usually sharp and playful, are languid now, half-lidded as she leans closer. you feel the warmth of her breath ghost across your neck, the faintest scent of her familiar strawberry lip gloss filling your senses. a delighted flutter takes root in your stomach, a feeling you know all too well, the one she ignites with just a look.

your own gaze is drawn to her lips, the curve of her grin promising a stolen moment, a quiet connection before the storm of the stage. the small hand resting on your hips makes your skin tingle.

but then, just as your fingers brush Karina’s arm, the bubble bursts.

karina’s eyes widen, a mischievous glint replacing the warmth of a moment ago. you see her mouth curl into a teasing smirk as she steps away, abandoning you with a laugh that echoes in the suddenly silent room. “oops, looks like someone was getting too comfortable.” she throws a teasing glance over her shoulder, her voice laced with playful mockery. “better hurry, princess. you’ve got a show to do in, what… five minutes? three minutes.”

she pulled away, that teasing smile still playing on her lips, and turned to yujin, who was leaning against the makeup table, watching the exchange with an almost feline grace. a slow smirk spread across yujin’s face as she met your gaze, a knowing look that mirrored karina’s.

then, with theatrical flair, karina grabbed your pants, which had been carelessly tossed over a nearby chair, and threw them at you. they landed in a crumpled heap at your feet. “wouldn't want you going on stage half… dressed, would we?” the laughter in her voice was low and rich, the kind that made your stomach twist in a pleasant sort of knot.

the sound of fabric rustling came from your left. you glanced over to see yujin straightening her top, smoothing down a non-existent crease. you could hear the soft click of a button being fastened, the sound somehow echoing in the strangely quiet room. both of them were watching you now, their amusement palpable. their eyes were like dark pools reflecting the glow of the stage lights, holding a wicked glint that simultaneously teased and intrigued.

“oh, and tell sakura unnie i send my regards.” yujin called over her shoulder, the playful tone doing nothing to soothe the flush creeping up your neck. you watched, dumbstruck, as both she and karina, a mirror-image smirk on her own face, walked out of the room, leaving you alone.

the room felt suddenly cold, the earlier heat replaced by a chilling wave of embarrassment. your cheeks were burning, no doubt a vibrant shade of red. your entire body tingled with the memory of karina's touch and the shared heat between you and yujin. they had been playing with you, teasing you, and you'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

you could picture them now, probably giggling together outside the door. how could you be so easily distracted? you were a professional, an idol, a performer! you had a show to do, and here you were, pants on the floor, heart pounding, and a blush that could probably be seen from space.

before you could think anything else, loud, hurried knocks echo against the dressing room door. following that, you hear the voice of chaewon, your groupmate, calling your name in a hurried and clearly irritated tone. “we are waiting for you to start our performance! if you don't put on your outfit and bring your ass to the stage right now, you know you're going to regret it later!”

the night would definitely be longer than you expected…

[heeliopheelia]

GET HIM BACK! (s. jake)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

includes: making out, skin marking, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, brief hair pulling, choking, slight bulge kink, degrading, praising too, slight exhibitionism, facial, cursing

word count: 3.3k

synopsis: 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰

note: i really hated the build up to the one i posted before so i rewrote it as promised... sorry for the confusion guys ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

guts event masterlist ⋆♱✮♱⋆ main masterlist

“Your parents home?” Jake breaths out the words right into your mouth as he runs his tongue over your bottom lip.

It’s been mere three minutes since you first heard his loud and obnoxious bike speeding down your quiet street. He’s careless and tact-less as always, and for some reason that’s what draws you in even more. 

He never keeps you waiting long. He doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s always one foot out the door of wherever he is, always waiting for a single call or text from you. He knows what he wants and is always vocal about it, a go getter type of a man. 

So it was expected to have him climb up the low roof of your porch and hear his gloved hand knocking on your window not even ten minutes after you texted him a not so innocent wanna come over?. 

As if that was even a question. Of course he wants to come over, wants to see you any chance he can get. He doesn’t need to think for a second to grab his helmet and ride to wherever you are, so needy for him. He’s known you for less than two months – met you at a party and kept hooking up weeks after, and yet here he is, wrapped around your finger, with nothing else in his mind but you.

You’re not much better yourself, dreaming of his beaming face every night that you somehow don’t end up spending with him. You’ve grown attached to him, so attached that the tearing inside your chest becomes more hurtful whenever you’re not with him, day by day he takes a firmer grasp of your feeble heart.

Your hands are grasping onto his worn out t-shirt, kissing him greedily and breathlessly as he giggles into your mouth, pulling you closer and closer into his chest. 

“They came back an hour ago,” you answer, raising on your toes to make the angle more comfortable for the both of you. 

Slowly, he pulls away and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to the other one. “That’s kinda inconvenient, no?” He asks, nosing at your cheek and you close your eyes and nod your head, melting as the leather of his glove brushes against your skin as he lifts your chin up with his fingers.  

His warm lips are on yours again, hand pulling your face upward to leave you breathless in a matter of seconds. “Wanna go out with me?” He whispers in your lips. He hums when you shake your head. “No? Jay’s party’s still going. We could go, hm?” He kisses you again even when you shake your head no. “Wanna just stay here?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out quietly, eyes never meeting his. 

“Okay, as you wish, baby,” Jake smiles into your lips. “I don’t mind. Anywhere with you is good.”

Before you get the chance to swoon over his words even more, he’s pushing you backwards and against your dresser, putting his helmet down on it before caging you in between his flexing arms. He kisses you dizzy then, angling his face to the side to press and suck on your lips better.

It’s so Jake-like to make you forget about all of your surroundings, to kiss you into oblivion until your lips are swollen and burning. You never complain – why would you when you know you can only have him for this summer, before college starts again and you’ll be out of your hometown for another year. You always take him in, again and again, because you’re scared you’ll wake up from this dream too soon and never see him again. And you can’t let that happen. 

This time he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, the warm muscle working against yours. Your hands finally relax from where they’ve been clutching onto his black top so desperately, only to travel up into his hair. You tug on it gently, feeling the slightly sweaty strands underneath your fingertips. 

Jake pulls you flush to him, pushes his hips into yours for any type of fraction and groans lowly in his throat when he gets what he’s been craving for for the past hour. 

“Couldn’t wait till tomorrow to see me, baby?” He teases, but you’re nodding your head quickly before he even has the chance to finish the sentence. He smiles into your lips as your desperate fingers pull his shirt up and off of him, leaving you pressed to his toned chest. 

The two of you messily make your way to your bed, bare of any duvets and blankets as it’s too hot to sleep under any. You fall on top of him and part your lips only to latch onto his neck, tongue lapping over the bite marks you leave afterwards.  

Jake chuckles at your feverish suckling onto his skin, never objecting to being marked by you. He tugs on the leather gloves with his teeth, pulling them off and throwing them on the floor, fingers immediately going down to follow your lead and dispose of your top. You’re only wearing underwear underneath the big t-shirt you sleep in and the sight makes Jake’s mouth water. He runs his hands over every inch of your burning skin, impatiently unclasping your bra as you’re still busy with his bruised neck. 

You pull away, visibly pleased with yourself, then lift yourself on your arms and smother his swollen lips again. Jake grunts, kissing you almost just as fervently, hands going lower and lower until he grabs a handful of your ass and rolls his hips up into yours. 

You let out a whimper at that, an even louder one following when his slim fingers skim over the soaked cotton of your panties. 

“You need to be quiet, doll,” he chuckles breathlessly, drowning the sounds you make with his lips when he slips his fingers underneath the fabric and gets a feel of your slick pussy. “I don’t think we would want your parents walking in on us like that, hm?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stumble out, shifting as you’re laying flat on his chest, face buried in his collarbone and eyes fluttering when his moves only grow bolder. You shudder slightly, feeling his long digits teasing your clit with butterfly touches. 

“Ease up, pretty girl,” Jake coos, other hand wrapping around your waist to keep you steady when the first of his now soaked fingers slips inside your tight hole. You nuzzle into him further, breath becoming unsteady as you whine quietly. He moves his hand, burying it deeper and skimming it over your walls. 

Couple seconds later he adds in the second finger, the heel of his palm pressing to your clit and making you jolt slightly in his firm hold. He strokes inside you slowly, feeling you progressively getting wetter with his every push. You’re panting, hot breath hitting his skin and making his dick twitch in his pants. 

He’s plunging his fingers deep inside of you, your walls squeezing him and stretching out his lips with a satisfied smile. You can’t help but buck into the air in the little space that Jake gives you, when he picks up on his pace. His fingers thrust in and out of you, one by one, never losing their rhythm. 

Curving his fingers, his knuckles brush against the spongy insides of your hole, making you moan shakily. 

“You good?” He asks, the hand on your waist caressing you gently. 

You sigh, hands reaching up to squeeze his shoulders. “Yeah,” you whisper because that’s all of your voice that you can muster. 

“Yeah?” He can’t help but tease and you can hear the grin that’s plastered on his pink lips. But this time you only respond with a nod of your head. 

With your face buried in his skin, hands wrapped around his neck tightly, you know you’re cumming when the warm wave hits your stomach breathlessly. You’re whimpering in his collarbone, really trying your hardest to keep quiet, but with the twitching pleasure spreading through your body, and his hard bulge pressing into your stomach, it’s quite difficult to stay sane. 

Jake gives you a second to breathe before removing his dripping fingers and unbuckling his pants with it. He somehow manages to shake out of his jeans while keeping you steady on his chest and you shiver when you can feel his warm cock resting between your bodies now. 

“Stay still for me, baby,” he coaxes you before shifting you on his hips. 

Next second, you can feel his tip prodding at your sensitive pussy and he glides his cock between your glistening folds, coating it in your slick. He readies you with a squeeze at your waist, and slowly starts sinking his length inside of you.

“Wait, Jake-,” you choke on your words when he buries himself entirely inside of you, stretching you out and making you lose your composure completely. “I’m still s-sensitive,” you mumble out, about to nuzzle your face in his neck when his hands grip your waist. 

“Now, up you go,” he says and lifts you up, making you sit on his hips and take in even more of his cock. 

You moan rather loudly, sinking your teeth in your bottom lip to stop yourself from spilling any more sounds. Jake slowly rolls his hips up into you, quiet grunts leaving his own mouth as his hands settle on your hips. He starts guiding you up and down carefully until you’ve fully adjusted to him.

He only lets go once you’ve picked up on a steady pace, bracing your hands on his stomach, the feeling of his hardened muscles making your cheeks heat up. The way your pussy spreads around him is making him go crazy, and now and then he realizes that the combination of feeling you topping him and looking so fucking pretty at the same time, is nothing less than lethal. 

You’re so soft under his hands, soft around his cock, soft hands pressing on his abs – everything about you is so damn soft. You’re making him feel almost too good. To ground himself, one of his hands goes up to your hair and tugs on it slightly, making you arch your back and show your pretty, glistening with sweat neck. 

He grits his teeth when you speed up slightly, eyes misty and sparkling down at him in your dimly lit bedroom. You’re riding him so well, taking his heavy cock with little struggle.

“So good,” he pants out, fingers digging into your ass. “You’re doing so good.”

You can feel your muscles straining whenever you lift yourself up, tired legs making you drop down onto him a little more forcefully than you initially planned but you’re rewarded with his low moan and eyes shutting tightly, long lashes brushing over his cheeks. 

The room feels almost too hot, the house is too quiet for the lewd noises coming out of both of you. Your rhythmic bouncing on his aching cock soon changes to messy grinds as your knees give out and thighs burn. Your movements are shallow and visibly weakened, so to help you up, Jake brings his knees higher and roots his heels into your mattress only to thrust up into you, meeting your hips halfway.

You mewl, your legs twitching when he makes your hole take even more of him. He can feel your slick mixed with his precum seeping out and covering his stomach, and he desperately needs more. 

Swallowed by the haze, you push your hips backwards and try to meet his thrusts, making his moves stutter and a strangled groan bubbles up his throat.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he says through clenched teeth before grabbing you by your hips and pulling you off of him. Before you get the chance to ask what he is doing, you find yourself with your back slammed to the mattress, and Jake’s hands grabbing your calves and throwing them over his shoulders. 

When he enters you again, you feel your eyes rolling back a little but before any sound can make its way out of your throat, Jake’s veiny hand slaps over your mouth as he leans his face closely to yours. Your whimpers are muffled now as he picks up on his previous pace and the now changed position makes your walls clump down on him even fucking tighter. 

“Keep it down. We don’t want your mom barging in and seeing her daughter folded in half like a slut, do we?” His words only make you moan louder as your fingers dig into his toned shoulders. At your reaction, Jake’s lips spread with a sly smile as he raises his eyebrow. “Do we?” He asks breathlessly, watching as your eyes glisten in the dark room. “You really wanna get caught? To let somebody see you like that? Naughty, fucking, girl. Well, there you go.”

His hands leave your mouth and settle on your stomach instead. You just can’t predict his moves anymore, too absorbed in the pleasure spreading through your body, so when he pushes onto your stomach and presses you even deeper into the mattress, a loud moan ripples out of your lips. Jake groans too as he can feel himself moving so deep inside you underneath his fingertips. He pushes onto you even harder. Your head rolls backwards until you’re nearly facing the headboard.

It’s quite difficult to breathe and you’re not sure whether it’s from the stifling summer air that’s gotten into your room or the veiny hand that’s suddenly latched onto your throat. His hot cockhead seems to be hitting everywhere where you need it most. Nothing but dumb squeaks leave your parted lips and he thrives off of every single one of them, even deepening his thrusts to hear them grow louder.

His thighs clash into yours loudly and you yelp when he leans even more forward and the one hand that’s currently not on your throat clutches the headboard tightly. You can’t even do anything when the wood starts rattling against your wall. 

“You like getting fucked like this? Who would’ve thought,” he hums, grinning down at you with the teasing glimmer in his eyes. 

His thrusts are deep, making the tip of his cock kiss your cervix over and over again. The moans you sob out are like a shot of adrenaline in his veins, better than any drug he’s ever tried and suddenly the thought of having you to himself only for the next week crosses his mind. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to breathe without you now that he’s almost sure he’s addicted to you. 

He works his length deep inside you. Your vision threatens to turn black and you’re already out of breath when he presses onto your throat a little harder. You send him a half-lidded look and he moves his hand away from your throat to push your sweaty hair away from your forehead because nothing can fucking take the sight of your fucked out face away from him. 

Your lips are parted with the ragged breaths leaving them, hands fisting his hair and legs beginning to tremble against his chest.

“So pretty, all for me. All because of me.” You nod thoughtlessly at his words, mind taken over by the feeling of the soon to be approaching high. “So lewd too. Where did your shame go?” 

“C- Close,” is all you’re able to say. You can feel every vein on his cock more prominently with every next thrust of his, all of your senses besides touch evaporating. You can’t even hear any more of his dirty words when your climax hits you like a truck, making you let out a loud moan. 

Jake wraps one of his arms under your waist and lifts you up slightly, now folding you in half and making your orgasm hit twice as hard. He slows his hips down for a moment to help you ride it out, thrusting his dick with deep strokes. 

He’s letting go of you soon enough, quickly forgetting about your sensitive self as he feels the twitching and aching between his legs begin, waiting for his own release. With a groan, Jake braces both of his flexing arms on the headboard and ruts his heavy cock into you feverishly, making you see stars and cry out of overstimulation. 

You have to bite on his shoulder to stop the sudden scream from leaving your throat, your whole body ricocheting with his hard thrusts. Your thighs are drenched and so are his, so the skin slapping against skin sounds even louder than before, leaving the backs of your plush upper legs red and stinging. 

He loves having you like that, limp because he’s fucked you just that good but body no less responsive to all that he keeps giving you. 

“So fucking good,” he repeats himself before abruptly pulling out of your spasming pussy. “Get down here, baby.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you only nod and eagerly pull yourself down on the bed with your wobbly legs. Once you’re lowered enough, Jake angles his swollen cock right above your face and strokes himself quickly, only to couple seconds later cover your face with the thick white ropes of his release. You flinch slightly, closing your eyes as the warm liquid hits your cheeks, lewdly licking everything that’s sputtered over your lips. 

“Oh, fuck!” Jake groans, a little pitchier than before, nonetheless just as pretty. You lift your head up from the mattress and swiftly engulf his leaking tip with your lips, milking him until he’s dry. Jake shudders above you and moans, watching you through almost closed eyes as you suck on his softening cock. 

You pull away when there’s nothing else to take from him and the doe eyed look you’re giving him makes him weak in the knees. He drops down next to you, brushing your hair away from your cum stained face before giggling and picking up the shirt you’ve thrown on the floor. He gently cleans you up with it, then leans forward to drown you with his lips. 

You could kiss him for eternity, be buried with his soft lips on yours. He’s gentler now, pressing his mouth on yours and leaving peck after peck on them.  

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers suddenly, hazy, nose brushing against yours and making you smile the softest smile at him. “There’s never gonna be anyone else like you, YN.”

And with your heart in your throat, you can only swallow harshly and speak through your clenched throat. “Love you too, Jake.”

There’s silence between the two of you for a moment as you just stay in the moment. Heavy breaths, gentle touches brushing against each other’s bodies and soft voices making promises you most likely won’t be able to keep.

“You won’t forget about me, right?” You whisper quietly, looking up at him with misty eyes as he glazes his thumb over your bottom lip. 

He shakes his head immediately, flashing you this charming smile of his you’ve gotten so used to over the past two months. 

“How could I?” He’s just as quiet. Then he gently takes your hand in his and presses it to his chest, allowing you to feel the hammering of his heart. “All of this is yours. I’ll wait for you.”

And that’s all you need to hear right now. 

The two of you get dressed, giggling and smiling like fools as there’s nothing much left to say. Your hip is leaning on your dresser when he steps closer and kisses you again, sucking on your lips sensually and slowly, procrastinating as long as he can only to not part with you yet.

His gloves are back on his hands, helmet under his arm as he turns back to you and tries one more time, grabbing your smaller hand in his. “Go out with me now?” 

You don’t know how you’ll be able to face your parents tomorrow. 

You don’t wanna say goodbye to him tonight. 

So with a smile on your lips, you nod your head and climb out of the window – hands intertwined together and his helmet safely tucked on your head.

But he was so much fun and he had such weird friends

And he would take us out to parties and the night would never end

taglist: @luvkpop @yannew @hoonxclsvly @jongseongslvr @beomgyusonlywife @starggukies @koizekomi @ineedsomezzz @starl1ghtsinthedark @enhastolemyheart @seokseokjinkim @parksunghoonsgf @skzenhalove @somekpopshiteu97 @enhypens-hoe @alpha-mommy69 @jwnzlvr @wondipity

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @seongiewon @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @kissestojapan

[ivyasproperty]

Hold me, console me.

natasha.r x fem!reader

summary — good things never come for ex hydra experiments, well that's what you had always thought. but a certain redhead is determined to prove you wrong.

warning(s) : cursing ( just a bit ), some mentions of anxiety

word count : 1.03k

A/N : istg this fic took me FOREVER TO WRITE because i was lazy ( oops ), so i hope you guys enjoy it cuz its kinda sloppy.....

You'd already been apart of the avengers for a few months now, and that meant living in the avengers compound. And even though you've been living with the heroes of New York for the past 7 months, you've always felt out of place in the team. Your team members worked in sync, always backing each other up without needing to vocalize it, but there was you, who struggled to even maintain a conversation with them. That was the main reason why you decided to take less part in missions, and of course Fury bit you in the ass for it, nothing got out of his sight after all, even after losing an eye. But there was also another reason, being an ex-hydra experiment took it's toll on you. You knew you were never the kind of person to harm others, but the words that the guards of doctors at the hydra facilities would yell at you always stayed in the back of your mind and gnawed at you.

ᯓ★

You had once again turned down the offer of helping out in a mission from Steve. He was a nice guy, so it hurt your heart after seeing the worried and upset look on his face. Steve Rogers was the person who had saved you from the hell hole you were raised with, alongside Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. Speaking of Natasha, you may or may not have harbored a huge small crush on the said spy after staying at the compound. The confidence that radiated off of her had always inspired you to be better, but you guessed it wasn't enough since you've been locking yourself inside your room for the past few weeks. You could tell your behavior was worrying others, you weren't always the cheery type but you'd at least hang around in the kitchen or joined them for movie night, but as your anxiety became worse, you grew cold and snarky, barely coming out of your room during both day and night.

Tony Stark, being the person he was, wanted to barge into your room and confront you. The others protested but he wouldn't relent, not wanting to hurt his ego after shouting so loudly. But he seemed to shrink into himself a bit after receiving a glare from the redheaded assassin. She was the most worried one out of all your teammates, and rightfully so, considering how she was the one to take care of you after the avengers took you under their wing.

Natasha had knew long ago about the crush you had on her, you were discreet with it yes, but nothing could get past a highly trained assassin. Natasha had tried to brush the fluttery feeling she felt in her belly after finding out, thinking it was just her imagination. But as days went by and you not coming out of your room, she got even more worried, so worried that she had broken into your room once just to check on you. It was then that she realized that she liked you too.

"I'll talk to her, Tony," her voice left no room for an argument as she got up from her seat on the couch and left the room in search of you. Tony had wanted to tag along, wanting to see what was about to unfold but was stopped by a hand gripping strongly onto his wrist. "Leave her be, Stark. She'll know how to handle it, and you need to stop meddling in other people's business." Wanda knew of your struggles, considering how she was also an ex-hydra experiment, so she knew you needed time and space.

Tony being Tony, denied the accusation of meddling in other people's business. Your teammates groaned, done with his shenanigans and left the room, but not before a small banter between them and the big boss.

ᯓ★

Natasha walked to your room in a hurry, not wanting to waste a single second. She knew the way to your room by heart, she always visited you during the night and waited outside your door, just in case you decided to come out of the confinements in your room.

Once she had reached your room, she knocked on your door, calling out your name. She wasn't surprised that there wasn't a response and decided to just pick lock her way through your door. She knew it was wrong but she didn't seem to care anymore. She needed you to come out of your room, she needed to see you.

After she successfully pick locked your door, she was met with you under your covers with trash littered everywhere in your room. It was obvious you weren't taking care of yourself. You noticed a presence in your room and turned to look towards your door, not that surprised at the shocked look on her face that disappeared and was replaced with a worried look. You didn't know why but all the emotions that were bottled up inside of you suddenly burst out and you started sobbing like your life depended on it. Natasha, quickly breaking out of her stupor, ran to your side to console you.

"It'll be alright, I'm right here, malysh." You didn't know how long your cried for, you didn't care how long you cried for. Natasha was there for you and you didn't care about anything else but that.

After calming down and drying your tears, she cupped your cheeks and placed her lips on yours. Your eyes went wide in shock, not knowing what to do. You could feel her smile against your lips, amused in your reaction. "You'll be alright, I''ll always be here to help you through it, alright?" You could feel tears welling up in your eyes again, but for a completely different reason.

Even though you knew it'd take time for you to feel like you were a part of the team and open up about it to them, you didn't seem to dwell on the matter. Your mind was somewhere else as confessions were whispered into the dead of night into your bedroom with your lover, that you knew would be there to hold you and console you, even in your worse times.

A/N : NO BC THIS IS SO BAD IM CRYING, i regret being lazy and procrastinating on this one bc it turned out so rushed to me, but i hope you guys still enjoyed it >< feel free to leave requests anytime!!!!!

[shrimpalbuspotter]

SCORBUS and STIMS

I Have many, many thoughts about all of my favourite characters and how they stim. Cursed Child, thank god, actually has representation of the way the two main leads stim. This post will be me discussing that and expanding upon it.

Scorpius Malfoy: Alot of depictions of the play portray him being a very avid stimmer. He jumps around and flaps his hands and, iirc, in one of the plays I watched, he rocked back and forward while sitting legs in a basket. He stims when he's excited, worked up, or getting really into something. I have this scenario in my head where Scorpius is complimented on his Potion in class, and begins flapping his hands because he happy. This boy hasn't masked a day in his life, he never needed to, I've mentioned before he grew up with nobody informing him on social cues because he stayed in the Manor with his parents all day. So he doesn't feel the need to try hide his stims despite it likely being a source of ridicule for some students to use against him. Anyway! I imagine he'd also stim by going on his tip toes. Anything that has him bouncing and not sitting still for too long. Also vocal stims, like squeaking and screeching and maybe even his little Wizzos.

Albus Severus Potter: In the play, majority of the adaptions I've seen atleast, Albus is very fidgety. He twiddles his fingers or scrunches the fabric of his robe in his hand, he does this when he's shy or nervous or feeling awkward. It's also been said that they designed Albus's wand to have Cherry blossom buds coming out the handle, which he uses to soothe himself likely by rubbing his thumb back and forward on the nub.... So I've always imagined him as a self soother/texture stimmer. He stims when he needs to calm down, he has textures that help him, such as wood, fabrics, and a personal headcanon is the feeling of a rock/crystal. Anything bumpy, he will stim with. However for happy stims, I think he'd be much calmer than Scorpius, and be more of a bouncing on your tiptoes stimmer or a shaking the person closest to you stimmer. Both are fairly common stims, so he doesn't stand out how Scorpius does when he's hopping in circles and "squeaking" with excitement.

Um yeah that's the post... I just wanted to talk about this because again, its something I always think about when I become attached to a character. Yep!

[rin-sith]

I love. LOVE. Get In the Water

It's one of the objectively best songs in the musical; I will die on this hill.

Poseidon was always, despite being pretty much the main antagonist of EPIC, a really underdeveloped character in my opinion. He just needed a little more nuance, and the fact that one (+ kind of one more) song managed to add so much to his characterization pretty much exclusively through subtext and implications is incredibly impressive writing. Because it did!

At the start, he's yet again playing games with Odysseus, the way he did in Ruthlessness. In both songs, he could kill him easily at any point, yet he chooses not to for the sake of playing games. In Ruthlessness, this becomes his own hubris as it leads to Odysseus escaping.

If you listen closely, at the start of GITW he already sounds slightly different. He's still trying to keep up this "God of Ruthlessness" front that he's so proud of, but he's no longer more or less carefree the way he was in Ruthlessness. He's been obsessing over this feud for ten years, and even if he would never admit it, it's actually clear just from his voice that he really is tired of it too. Not in the sense of it emotionally draining him the way it probably does Odysseus, but in the sense that it's a bother, a loose end in his life, a book that he finally wants to slam shut.

But he still has a reputation to uphold, and he still cannot close this book until Odysseus is dead, so he keeps up the game. Instead of just killing him, he's taunting him to kill himself. He might associate the idea of just striking him down with a sort of loss, like then he'd have to get his hands dirty. Then he's rambling about killing his people, his family. He's provoking Odysseus on purpose, likely trying to get him to snap back, to hate and fear him the way that Poseidon would think any mortal who has consumed this much of his time should. In his eyes, Odysseus deserves nothing less than to curse him with his last breath as his "darkest moment," the god who became the bane of his life.

And Odysseus replies, of all things, with ... sympathy.

Honestly, I don't blame Poseidon for being speechless for three full seconds. He literally just threatened to gauge Telemachus' eyes out the way Odysseus did with Polyphemus, and this absolute madlad of a man replies with an acknowledgment that he (might have) caused Poseidon pain too.

Now, I don't really think Poseidon was particularly hurt over Polyphemus' loss, or hurting in any way in that moment (if he were, I highly doubt he'd still be playing games, and he would've mentioned his son as opposed to speaking about his reputation.) But just the fact that Odysseus acknowledges that he might be hurting too is probably something Poseidon hasn't heard in ... who knows how long? His family is the Olympians. I don't think I have to say more.

It's actually more of a genuine apology than Odysseus' explanation in Ruthlessness ... (even though that was also a perfectly fine apology by Greek standards, as far as I'm aware.) Now he doesn't say "sorry" because he's still not sorry for hurting Polyphemus, since he still needed to do that in order to escape. But he expresses regret over the pain he caused in a more genuine way than ever.

I am convinced that Poseidon is utterly unfamiliar with sympathy or mercy. He's lived by his "Ruthlessness is mercy" motto for centuries, and he doesn't know anything else. No one would try to teach him something different. The other gods all live by this logic, even if he's the most vocal about it considering he seems to have made it his whole personality. Mortals wouldn't dare to question Poseidon in the first place. And barely anyone would be willing to treat someone with kindness who is in turn treating everyone around them with ruthlessness.

It's very likely that Poseidon hasn't encountered anyone like this until Odysseus. Ruthlessness is simply how he treats people and also how he expects to be treated back. The fact that Odysseus doesn't, the fact that instead of hating, fearing, or cursing him, he acknowledges that they have both hurt each other and that it doesn't lead anywhere to still pursue vengeance, must have triggered Poseidon in an unprecedented way.

To him, this was probably the most outrageous thing Odysseus could have said in that moment. And it throws him off so much that he is genuinely speechless, and then simply replies, "I can't." ... his most genuine-sounding line in the whole musical.

I cannot stress enough how much it threw me off to hear this line; in the best way imaginable, it doesn't sound like Poseidon. It sounds almost vulnerable. Almost human. Because he is genuinely at a loss so much that he forgets to put up his "wrathful god" facade for just one second. Standing ovation to Steven Rodriguez for his whole performance, but especially this part.

And then Odysseus goes all out to say something even more outrageous: "Maybe you could learn to forgive?"

... Which is when Poseidon snaps.

Kind of understandable, honestly. There's this mortal whom he has likely fantasized about seeing pleading, hate-filled, and terrified, cowering before him for ten years now ... telling him that he ought to learn something. Even hijacking his own motif and his instrument in order to turn it on its head, "defile" it if you will.

This f*cking mortal pr*ck took his own "Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves" catchphrase and turned it into forgiveness ... Of course, Poseidon is no longer hesitating; of course, he is no longer concerned with getting his hands dirty or not. He yells "DIE!" and unleashes his ultimate move (which is really overkill for simply killing a mortal if you think about it) ... But he does it anyway because this time he genuinely means it.

... That, and I am also convinced he jumps to that in order to simply shut Odysseus up, fearing what he might do or think if he lets him go on. Because you cannot tell me that Odysseus didn't actually reach him for just one moment. He was far too thrown off guard, far too vulnerable in that one second. That moment of kindness did something to him, and he hated it. He also probably didn't trust himself to be able to keep listening to Odysseus speak like that. So, he abandons his (still very technically feasible!) blackmail/intimidation and just straight-up kills him.

This simple exchange (my favorite moment in the whole musical, actually) tells us so much about both of these characters that it makes me want to skitter and squeal in excitement.

Here is Odysseus—the very same one whom Poseidon specifically tried to teach ruthlessness—becoming the first person in a long time to offer him sympathy despite how Poseidon himself showed him nothing but ruthlessness. And then one song later, here is Odysseus showing him the consequences of not accepting said sympathy.

Six Hundred Strike and what Odysseus does to Poseidon would've not hit the same, in my opinion, if he hadn't made this offer, if he hadn't given Poseidon this way out, even if no one watching genuinely expected it to work (probably not even Odysseus himself.)

Six Hundred Strike is not Odysseus exacting vengeance If GITW proved anything about Odysseus, it's that he does not want vengeance. He wants all of the hatred and pain to be over, to the point where he is willing to let go of, and I am inclined to say forgive Poseidon for what he's done to him. Six Hundred Strike is simply Odysseus teaching him this lesson that Poseidon couldn't have learned in any other way, because he has proven in GITW that he genuinely does not speak any language besides that of ruthlessness (more on that in this essay!)

It's just the perfect representation of how Odysseus has now finally learned the balance between mercy and ruthlessness, which seems to be the core theme of the musical: Both have their time and place; one simply has to be willing to act in both ways and know when to use either. No one extreme is the solution. I am genuinely exhilarated that Odysseus finally seemed to have figured out that it's been both all along.

[lionhanie]

boynextdoor playing minecraft! (ot6 hc)

what happens when boynextdoor starts a minecraft server?

word count: 1.2k i think

genre + warnings: crack LOL, cursing, written in lowercase, typos

a/n: this is so stupid LMAO. (i was playing mc earlier whos gonna match my freak)

reblogs ↺ + feedback always appreciated!

featuring… sungho as numberonecatdad! riwoo as LeeSanghyeok! (he didn’t know he was making his username when he made the account. literal full government name out there)  jaehyun as myungj4e! taesan as GiantMountain! leehan as 212121_! woonhak as xxBlockBeastxx2006! (he made it in 4th grade. says he keeps the name for the nostalgia he doesnt know how to change it)  

→ Join Server?

☆ sungho: the builder

i feel like sungho wouldn’t really be interested in playing mc “seriously” but BOYYYY get him into creative and he’s locking the hell in. ik he does NOT play when it comes to building The Ultimate Spruce Wood Base

he got sick of seeing jaehyun build dirt huts as shelter in their worlds so he took on the role of being the MAIN BUILDER… main vocal? yeah. main builder is his TRUE calling. but i genuinely think he’d be good at it LOL his attention to detail is insane

making entire mansions in survival except he doesn’t even collect the blocks himself. he just waits til people come home with them and he steals them for his builds

In the chat… numberonecatdad: who made this farm by my house 212121_: me and riwoo 212121_: y???? numberonecatdad: … LeeSanghyeok: wjats wrong with it :( numberonecatdad: it’s … so bad LeeSanghyeok: it took us 2 hrs to make btw 212121_: okay but it works numberonecatdad: HALF THE CROPS ARE TRAMPLED numberonecatdad: stay away. leave this to me

the next day its a full fledged farm. windmill in the background. beautiful fields of potatoes and wheat surrounded by a pretty fence. flowers adorning the whole thing. true masterpiece 

☆ riwoo: the noob

i think he’s not really the type to play games like mc. like give him tiny tower or something and he’s at like 400 floors.. neko atsume? he got all the cats unlocked. but MINECRAFT? idk i feel like he’s just 🙂 when he plays bc he has no idea what’s going on

everyone will be off adventuring on their own.. minding their business.. and then there's a death message in the chat saying riwoo died to something so incredibly random. everyone is just like ??? bc wdym you died to a berry bush

the members think its so cute how he’s just… there for the ride! but they can’t help but mess around with riwoo because he is truly lost  & blindly trusts everything they tell him bc he doesn’t know any better

In the chat… 212121_: riwoo stand right there LeeSanghyeok: why 212121_: ima show u a cool easter egg LeeSanghyeok: okie ^_^ LeeSanghyeok was squashed by a falling anvil. LeeSanghyeok: wat was the easter egg LeeSanghyeok: i dont get it xxBlockBeastxx2006: LKSJKJFHKJSnfd;sf GiantMountain: oh riwoo GiantMountain: if u left click u can pet the bees and they heal u LeeSanghyeok: rlly? thats cool i wanna try myungj4e: DONT DO IT LeeSanghyeok was stung to death. numberonecatdad: leave that poor boy ALONE

after that, riwoo learns to be cautious of the maknae line.... he just stays with sungho collecting flowers for his builds or lighting up the caves jaehyun explores and running from the mobs :,)

☆ jaehyun: the miner

jaehyun is definitely the type to go straight to mining when you start up a new world. the second everyone sees "myungj4e has just earned the achievement [Acquire Hardware]" they KNOW he's clocking into his full time job in the mines bye

it’s 30 mins in and he has half a set of diamond armor to his name and they’re like ?? bro we just started can you be fr rn… if any of the members ask for materials he won’t do it unless he’s getting something out of it (don’t tell anyone but he made riwoo a set of diamond tools when everyone is still using iron 😍 true romance i think)

lowkey everyone is convinced he has x-ray installed or something bc of how good he is at mining

In the chat… numberonecatdad: can i get three diamonds for a new pickaxe myungj4e: lmao NO  myungj4e: wat do i get in return numberonecatdad: how do you live in a dirt shack and have diamond armor GiantMountain: embarrassing.... myungj4e: okay making fun of the less fortunate now??? numberonecatdad: ill build u a house if u give me diamonds myungj4e: k fine  xxBlockBeastxx2006: OH BUT WHEN I ASK FOR DIAMONDS I DONT GET ANY

at the end of the day tho... he's lowkey a blessing bc if he's feeling nice enough he will hook u up with ANYTHING u need. the boys are spoiled w the way jae's chests are FULL of iron whenever they need it

☆ taesan: the fighter

unironically i think taesan would just be . oddly good at pvp. it’s like one of his random talents LOOOL "good at mc pvp" on his resume LOUD AND PROUD

like you load up into bedwars or something and he’s wiping out teams before you can even get yourself a proper set of armor. its lowkey attractive idk

in your survival world, he’s always instigating fights with the other members in hopes that they’ll want to fight. literally no one can kill him. he can probably 1v5 and still win

In the chat... myungj4e: WHO TOOK THE DIAMONDS FROM MY CHEST WHILE I WAS OFFLINE LeeSanghyeok: it was taesan GiantMountain: …what are u gonna do about it bro. huh. they’re mine now.  myungj4e: bro that was like a full stack. it took me like 3 hours to get them. where the hell are you  GiantMountain: why? you wanna fight for it? GiantMountain: whoever wins keeps the diamonds xxBlockBeastxx2006: oh ur cooked hyung myungj4e: OK DEAL myungj4e was slain by GiantMountain using Diamond Sword.

the way u can hear jaehyun RAGE through the dorm walls brings a smile to taesan's face bc he KNOWS he stays undefeated when it comes to pvp

☆ leehan: the troll

i think he’s similar to riwoo in the sense that he doesn’t rlly know whats going on but once they start their server you know DAMN well he’s looking up Top 15 BEST Ways To ANNOY Your FRIENDS in Minecraft! on youtube.,.. fucking loser (hearts in my eyes as i write this)

they’re usually harmless ones, like filling up jaehyun's chests with junk or renaming sungho's cat to something stupid like “Poopy Fart” or moving all of woonhak's cows from their pen

but ohh… if you piss him awf BADDD i think he would do some DIABOLICAL damage to the world. like imagine taesan is Also Trolling and he kills leehan before taking all of his stuff and running away into the distance. things would be quiet… too quiet…. until next thing u kno theres a whole trap waiting for taesan the second he walks into his house 

In the chat… 212121_: taesan do u still have my fishing rod GiantMountain: ye lol 212121_: can i have it back GiantMountain: LMAO GiantMountain: no 212121_: i think theres a creeper in ur house  GiantMountain: WHAT  GiantMountain was killed by magic while trying to escape 212121_.  numberonecatdad: LOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLL GiantMountain: when the hell did you set that up 212121_: >:)

OKAY YES he spent 46 minutes following a tutorial on how to set up a death chamber full of the WORST potion effects ever ... but it worked so he's sitting at his monitor feelijng like an evil mastermind

☆ woonhak: the sweat

he is like the only one i imagined actually PLAYED minecraft growing up. he unironically enjoys watching minecraft streams too LMAO much like jaehyun, i think woonhak goes straight to mining in survival. except rather than /just/ mining, he’s literally trying to beat the game 

he's usually off on his own doing something but ngl .. i bet he's a backseat gamer when he see's someone doing smth wrong. let's say he's out exploring w riwoo and he's falling SO FAR BEHIND he doesn't know how to sprint he will literally walk into his room to show him how to run

bro probably watched Ender Dragon Speedruns growing up idk i feel like he’s determined to beat the world record (he won’t, but he will definitely try) 

In the chat... xxBlockBeastxx2006 has just earned the achievement [The End?] numberonecatdad: ? 212121_: ?? 212121_: is that what i think it is myungj4e: ../?//???? ?  ??? LeeSanghyeok: wat is that LeeSanghyeok: whys the achievement purple GiantMountain: r u fr rn 212121z: LMAO tryhard alert... xxBlockBeastxx2006: yooo chill we can always respawn it dw myungj4e: HOW DARE U KILL THE ENDERDRAGON WITHOUT US myungj4e: UR FAKE AS HELL xxBlockBeastxx2006 has been banned from the server by myungj4e

woonhak doesn't talk to jaehyun for the rest of the night (he's unbanned the next day, but they force him to restart so he isn't absolutely STACKED)

taglist: @onedoornet @dongminz (ty saki for supporting me with my bonedo mc thoughts LMFAO) @gluion @icyminghao

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[merlinmylove]

Remember when the witchfinder accused Merlin of sorcery and even Uther was like “really, him?”

And when Merlin told Uther infornt of his court that he was the sorcerer, and Uther laughed at him because “yeah, arthur’s little pet is too stupid to learn magic lol” ???

But when Gwen accused Merlin of trying to kill Arthur everyone was like “yup, totally makes sense let’s arrest him”

also i haven’t seen the episode in years i might be misremembering

(I get that she’s the queen of three years and that everyone was panicking about Arthur nearly dying but come on?? )

All I’m saying is that Uther would not have believed it; he literally says in s1 that he’s glad Merlin is in Arthur’s life (ok maybe he would believe it lol, but the difference in reaction is staggering)

I love Gwen she’s my best girl and don’t u dare blame this on her. It wasn’t her fault and she was cursed, but damn really, why did nobody (truly) vocally support him or laugh at the accusations — Arthur? Gwaine? Leon???

Lancelot would not have let this slide lmao

I think they ruined her friendship with Merlin by setting s5 years later, because it means we’ve lost some of their love and relationship — Gwen treats Merlin like a servant than a friend and it’s sad :((((

Some wonderful angsty fic recs for your consideration:

Out of sight, out of mind: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300082/chapters/71952783

Alms for oblivion: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43106890/chapters/108329875

The tearing of the veil: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54326929/chapters/137594920

Confession: https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/128726515?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#main

I could have known: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36473041

[ronearoundblindly]

I have another question for who would Wednesday (sorry if I'm sending too much): who would have new years resolutions? Who would help with yours?

Took me until Lunar New Year, but we got there!

No warnings except mentions of true-to-character background (family alcoholism, jerk behavior, cursing) so keep that in mind.

James Mace

Yes! If it's important to you, it's important to him. Mace only picks practical goals or changes to make, realistic stuff that's doable and improves his life and happiness. You know, the actual epitome of the tradition.

Curtis Everett

No. He'll honor your resolutions but doesn't make his own. It's half not caring and half because when he used to make them, he always crapped out on them by March...

Jimmy Dobyne

No. Jimmy believes if you have a goal, why wait for a holiday to start? Go ahead and do it! He hates the placating of over-indulging during the holidays, guilting yourself, and then miserably push to change huge things suddenly. (He's adamant about NO DRY JANUARY, too. Own up to it. If you want/need to quit drinking, then fucking stop. He gets prickly about this because of his father.)

Johnny Storm

Nope. Johnny just...keeps being Johnny. Isn't very open to helping you keep them. Seems...sorta personal and like a you-problem.

Jake Jensen

Yes!!!! He's totally supportive and enjoys making a big deal about declaring his and yours after a sweet, midnight kiss. Will buy a whiteboard for the hallway to have them visible. Jake does, however, always picks silly or easy stuff for himself in order to feel accomplished. He will NOT stand for you making resolutions which are designed to be judgmental: don't write down "get skinny" or "save for a nose job." Jake makes you think specifically about you, none of this for-others shit.

Lloyd Hansen

Yes? His resolutions are silly and self-serving--also they are almost always indulgences that Lloyd never stopped himself for doing in the first place--so it's a useless exercise. He is supportive of yours as long as it's convenient for him to do so, which he takes on a second-to-second basis.

Ari Levinson

Yes, but only as a couple or being supportive of yours. On his own, Ari doesn't see the point.

Ransom Drysdale

Yes, but he doesn't admit it or tell anyone what they are, so no one knows if he failed to keep them. Ran won't necessarily provide positive support of yours--i.e. if you cheat on a diet or something, he openly points out you shouldn't be eating that--but! he holds you accountable if/when you've clearly said you're trying to change a habit.

Andy Barber

Yes. The only problem is they're vague and recurring. Every year he tries to say you'll have a regular date night or go on trips, but Andy never quite manages to put fun things first. He's a workaholic who gets distracted and forgets to focus on less tangible progress. You have to remind him or take over making those resolutions happen.

Steve Rogers

Yes and no. Some years Steve has strong impulses to make changes. Some years he's just getting by or keeping the status quo. Turns out, you often make resolutions that impact the both of you or are specifically geared toward him. If you're vocal about wanting something, he's all over it and supportive. Steve has never been great at doing things for himself.

Bucky Barnes

Again, yes and no. Bucky is still not great at tracking time. He gets confused from year to year if there were just arbitrary goals he set, so now he keeps them progressive. You guys want to do renovations on your home? Pick a starting room and then pick a direction to work (out, up, or down). He wants to turn his wardrobe into something more personal? Begin with the shoes, then the socks, then the slacks, etc. Mundane choices can overwhelm him easily since he's from a simpler era and he didn't make his own choices for a long stretch. Bucky keeps his resolutions simple and the pressure to stick to them low.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would... Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Now back to my hidey hole...

[theyluvangel]

SVT - dom, sub, or switch

just a lil thought for now, I might add more later

i got carried away with a few of them

MDNI

S.coups

dom for sure

he'll be hard or soft, slow or quick

everything he does is up to you

he'd rather die than hurt you in an un-pleasurable way

probably has some hard kinks like spanking or bondage

Jeonghan

switch. either a hard dom or bratty sub

whether he's above you or below you, he'll always be teasing you

sometimes you'll have to lay there and take it, other times you have to be the one to fix his attitude

loves dressing up in more feminine clothes for you

loves giving and receiving degradation

Joshua

soft dom

i fully believe this man is a gentleman in and out of the bedroom

loves missionary

i don't really have much to say about him sorry guys

Jun

switch

this man is into softer things

praise giving and receiving

will let you peg him

lowkey has a thing for plushies being involved

probably one of the sweetest members to have sex with

Hoshi

complete 50/50 switch

will let you ruin him one day, then he'll ruin you the next

sometimes you'll both dom and sub in one session

main goal is for neither of you to be able to walk in the end

this man has incredible stamina, he could and would fuck you all day

gets so turned on seeing you on top of him

cowgirl is his favorite position

loud AF he has no shame

Wonwoo

dom but would sub if you asked very nicely

really caring and attentive to your needs

likes to cokwarm while he's gaming

doesn't make a lot of noise, only low groans and moans

is main goal is to fuck you so good you're shaking

likes watching you ride him

always makes sure you cum first

Woozi

switch

sex with him doesn't always have a strong power dynamic

but sometimes if he's tired or if he's super needy he just wants to be taken care of

or sometimes if he had a rough day he'll just come home and ravage you

studio sex at least 2 times a week

MUNCH

i lowkey think he has a high heel kink because he likes when you're taller than him

will get so turned on if you wear red lingerie

DK

switch but leans toward being a pleasure dom

all about you when it comes to sex

tell him what you want and you'll have it

if you want to dom him all the time, he'd love that! if you want him to dom you all the time, that's great!

if you're happy then he's happy

big on praise, giving and receiving

he's a silly guy, so chances are sex is full of giggles

also one of the sweetest to have sex with

Mingyu

so many people write this man as a dom, and I strongly disagree. this man is a sub.

he may look big and intimidating, but he's just a big baby

sure he could fuck you missionary or doggystyle, but you'd still be in charge

loves a mix of praise and degradation

there's a clip of woozi saying mingyu likes being scolded and embarrassed by the members soo....

big baby. golden retriever man all the way

he's so whiny

probably a crier

loves being edged or overstimulated

The8

dom

i think he's the traditional type of man that thinks the main goal of sex is the woman's pleasure

would not even think about letting you do any work

if you aren't already a pillow princess, well you are now

not very loud, but I think hes big on dirty talk

curses in Chinese

also loves bondage

seeing you tied up with pretty silk gets him so turned on

Seungkwan

sub.

this man is a pillow princess

makes jokes the whole time

loves wearing lingerie

VERY vocal

literally so loud

please praise him he deserves it

Vernon

see I can't see sex with Vernon having a strong power dynamic

hes a chill guy, he just goes with the flow

loves cowgirl and reverse cowgirl

he has a sex playlist.

swears so much

buries his head in your neck if he's in a position that allows him to

Dino

switch leaning sub

MOMMY KINK

calls you mama in and outside of the bedroom

could dom you, but why would he do that when he has you to take care of him?

probably doesn't have much experience

needs your reassurance

also needs you to tell him what to do to make you feel good

guided masturbation happens regularly between you two

gets turned on so easily

[minyard-05]

damocles

me again coming back to type up another word vomit 'essay' about a song i've had on loop for the past ~8 hours.

SO. damocles.

the main thing that stands out to me lyrically is the tense change. like a lot of sleep token's songs have a tendency to be set in the past, as if vessel is recounting feelings and events that can't be undone. from this perspective he picks apart his own emotions and analyses himself, questioning his own existence through the lens of trying to put himself in context for the audience (in some cases this presents itself as almost trying to justify his actions but thats a different post). damocles does have a bit of this, in the bridge with the 'nobody told me' lines, but primarily, it's about what's happening now, how he feels now, and the entire chorus is focused on the future. that uncertainty in the lyricism, and the honesty of lines like 'no one else knows that i've got a problem' is i think what gives the entire song its whole Vibe, and why i think it's probably one of their hardest hitting tracks so far. before, the stories might have been sad, but they were certain. like, we may be doomed but at least we know we're doomed. but in damocles, vessel doesn't know what's happening or where he goes from here, and that's what makes it scary.

another thing it does really well is capture the whole feeling of catastrophising and overthinking, as shown in the chorus:

"When the river runs dry and the curtain is called / How will I know if I can't see the bottom? / Come up for air and choke on it all / No one else knows that I've got a problem / What if I can't get up and stand tall? / What if the diamond days are all gone, and who will I be when the empire falls? Wake up alone and I'll be forgotten"

a big part of what backs up the uncertainty theme I mentioned earlier is actually the way this part of the song is done technically. the piano is the only instrument alongside vessel's voice as of yet, and it begins softly, mirroring the vocal line in a ballad style, but when the chorus starts, the tempo increases. the entire first chorus happens in the span of about 25 seconds, whereas the first verse lasts twice longer, about 50 seconds. this increase means that the song doesn't feel rushed, but tense, before it slows back down to bring in the drums on verse 2. i don't know about you guys but the first time i listened to it i actually kind of felt a little on edge, because the way it's composed means that it musically raises a question that isn't really answered. in a sense, the chorus never really gets closure, all the questions vessel asks himself don't get any response from sleep, if that's who he's talking to. damocles is telling us a story that doesn't have an ending, not yet.

lyrically though, and this may be somewhat of a self contradiction, but it feels to me like damocles is something of a sequel to caramel. side by side, the songs actually feed fairly well into each other, following similar thematic ideas, but the main split is that caramel is about the pressure of being known and damocles is about the fear of being forgotten. i talked about this already a little in my caramel post but i feel like there's really no way where this song isn't an incredibly personal message from the singer himself, not the character of Vessel.

like let's look at the line from the chorus again: "Who will I be when the empire falls?" and lets take this 'empire' to mean Sleep Token as a project. they've been immensely successful, especially in the past two years, and success for musicians comes as a blessing and a curse. more fans = more people to share your art with and more money gained from concert tickets and merch sales to then fund creating and recording more music, which is all good! however, success also means interest, and interest means critics picking every second of every single apart, it means there will be people who only like you when you're doing one specific thing, and if you deviate from that binary, it will never be as good as your old stuff. sleep token are not just a metal band, and damocles isn't a metal song, and the more you experiment with new styles and techniques in your art, the higher the chances you will alienate people who don't like your new stuff. unfortunately, a lot of people LOVE to voice this dislike online, and with the internet being the behemoth that it is, it's easier for artists to see those critiques. and yeah, fuck the haters, create what makes you happy, i'm all for that, but from an artist's perspective that's way easier said than done. all this to say that the speed at which sleep token gained mainstream popularity, and all the bullshit that comes with it, is undeniably going to take a toll on the musicians themselves.

they've been anonymous throughout their whole career thus far, and have been explicit in saying that choice was made to protect their personal privacy AS IS THEIR RIGHT. but i'm wondering if damocles is in part about the fact that while they stay anonymous to stop Sleep Token from taking over their lives, it kind of feels like it did anyway. because while you can disconnect from the internet and not look at the comments or the critics, there is always this nagging question at the back of your mind that says is it good enough? do they like it? do they like me? did i get it right? am i good enough?. fame is fickle, and if you're not constantly keeping yourself afloat, the tide will drop you. so to me, "Who will I be when the empire falls? / Wake up alone, and I'll be forgotten" sounds like vessel wondering if he's already written himself over in the context of the band, and when 'the empire falls', i.e, when the band ends, does he go back to his normal life? does he start over again? did any of it ever matter?

and the uncertainty comes back, because maybe he doesn't know when the empire will fall, maybe he doesn't want it to. but he is Damocles now, on his throne he looks over the empire, and he waits for the sword to drop.

[sidebar: in the original story of Damocles, he was a courtier of Dionysius (not the god), and flattered his king, essentially saying he was fortunate and blessed to have so much power. Dionysius offered Damocles the chance to sit on his throne for a day, but he had a sword suspended over it by a single horsehair. the moral of the story is that it's a lot more work than it looks to be a leader, and great ones will always have enemies, dangers that are just out of sight but ever-present. Sleep & Vessel parallels anyone????]

MAYBE that's a stretch. but i'm not done because now i want to talk about the bridge.

"And nobody told me I'd be begging for relief / When what is silent to you feels like it's screaming to me / Well, nobody told me I'd get tired of myself / When it all looks like Heaven, but it feels like hell"

THIS is where i am getting the strongest caramel parallel (ha). this is explicitly about chasing this golden promise of fame and love, only to catch it and realise it's burning you. the vocals here are melodic but to me it almost sounds quietly angry as well, like vessel can't openly scream 'nobody warned me', so he sings it instead ("too blessed to be caught ungrateful"). and he's angry because all he wanted to do was make music and share it with people, but Sleep Token isn't just a band anymore, it's also this huge collective of fans that it's built, and when something like that spirals out of control, you can't easily get it back. vessel's anger comes from the fact that he never started this wanting to write songs about how much it hurts to keep doing this. it was supposed to be an outlet and a way to make something beautiful out of pre-existing pain, but now it's come full circle and is the new cause, rather than the cure.

anyway. those are my damocles thoughts somewhat articulated but i may come back to them. i need a whole new post just talking about that drum mix fr

[junrenjun]

heyy lu! for my request for ur summer writing event, i would like to order smut, enhypen heeseung, prompts: 16, 33, 36, 37 & 50. For the modifiers: idol reader but they are lovers.

wishing u a happy summer!! thank you!!

that damn skirt

lee heeseung x idol!reader

wc: 929

warnings: slightly suggestive

a/n: part of my summer writing event. sorry to anon, i didn't catch the smut part of your ask until after i had written this. maybe a smutty part 2....thoughts?

prompts: "i'm always thinking about you" "that's my girl" "stop staring at me" "you did so good" "you have no idea how much i want you"

Heeseung wishes he were anywhere but here right now. Award shows are the worst. The room is way too hot to be wearing a suit, the music is just slightly too loud, and you…you're walking around wearing that damn skirt.

Now, he knows it’s not your fault. It’s wholly your entertainment company’s fault for giving your group a sexy theme for the newest song and a skirt that’s a little too short for his liking. But he curses you just a tiny bit for having the audacity to look that good. In front of other people too!

He watches as you disappear backstage, your group finally getting to prepare for your performance. And now his only source of entertainment is gone. Don’t get him wrong, he loves to see all the other groups perform. But this is the 4th show that Enhypen has attended in the past month and he’s getting sick of hearing the same songs over and over. In the meantime, he busies himself with keeping an eye on his members. Nudging Sunghoon’s leg when he starts nodding off. Nodding along as Jake whispers something about P1Harmony in his ear. Doing some half-hearted aegyo with Jungwon when the fans grab their attention during a break. 

Finally, the MC announces your group and the stage has Heeseung’s attention once more. His eyes never leave your frame once, watching as you move around effortlessly. It’s no wonder you are the group’s main dancer. And fuck you look good doing it. Maybe he needs to have a conversation with your stylists. 

The first song ends and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Before he can steady himself once more, the next song plays. His brows knit in confusion for a moment. You hadn’t told him you were performing this one. In fact, you’ve been complaining about how you never want to sing it live. One of the high notes has been giving you trouble during vocal practice and it’s been frustrating you to no end.

He bites his lip momentarily, his heart rate picking up nervously. Every part of his being prays that you hit that note, knowing it will be a huge blow to your confidence if you don’t. The bridge of the song finally arrives and the next line is yours. He holds his breath once more as you sing. You hit the note perfectly, just as you had been wanting it to sound and he sighs in relief. “That’s my girl,” he mutters under his breath, smiling slightly. 

Though it must have been louder than he originally thought because Jake groans softly. “Dude, I thought we talked about this. Keep the horny comments to yourself.” Heeseung just rolls his eyes in response.

Your group’s performance comes to an end and you leave the stage. He lets himself zone out again until you emerge once more. Your members walk quickly back to your seats, bowing at everyone as they pass. Heeseung’s eyes remain on you the entire time. Your leader takes you a different route this time, passing directly in front of Enhypen’s seats. You end up right in front of him, pausing for a second. As you bow, your eyes remain downcast but you whisper, “stop staring at me, Hee.” 

Immediately, his eyes widen in surprise, but he catches himself and ducks his head to return the bow. Meanwhile, the rest of his group is in a fit of giggles. He prays their PR team is willing to work overtime to explain this interaction once it hits social media. 

The rest of the night, he forces himself to keep his eyes off you. And god is that a difficult task. He’s resorted to pinching himself every time his eyes drift over to where you sit. And by some miracle, the show ends before he’s made a big enough crease in his slacks. His stylist would be proud. 

Backstage is chaotic as always. His eyes flit around the hallway, looking for any sign of you in the mix of idols. He’s about to grab his phone and text you when he catches a flash of that damn skirt again. In an instant, he’s moving.

He grabs your hip lightly, squeezing quickly three times. You recognize the pattern instantly, spinning around and hugging him. He wraps his arms around you, not too worried about the scene it may cause. Your relationship is pretty much an open secret to the rest of the industry anyways. “You did so good,” he whispers into your hair. 

He feels the “thanks,” you mutter into his chest. His gaze flits down a bit and meets the garment that’s been torturing him all night. “Baby, can you please change now?” he says, voice low. “You’ve been driving me insane.”

You pull away and giggle, a telltale sign you are about to start teasing him. He preemptively rolls his eyes. “Oh? Have you been thinking about me all night?” you taunt.

“I’m always thinking about you,” he concedes.

You giggle once more. “How sweet. I’m going to change now. If you want me come find me,” you tease, turning in his arms.

He tightens his hold on you, preventing your escape. Then, he leans down to whisper softly in your ear. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

A shudder passes through your body and he smirks. You don’t say anything, but give him one more sultry look before walking away. Right before you turn the corner, he gets one more glimpse of you in that damn skirt. 

[princessanonymous]

Of Trials- Part 1/3 (Ask)

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Next Part

Story Chapter list

This is from an ask someone sent to me privatly. I liked the idea so much that I decided to make multiples little chapters. I think I will write two other chapters after this one. Keep in mind that you'll need to read the main story, When Night Comes (Linked aboved) to understand this. :)

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Reading under a dimly lit candle was an activity Dorian quite enjoyed when he was on his own. It gave him a moment to ponder on things and relax. As the night wore on and the hours melted away, he found himself lost in contemplation, the outside world a mere whisper in the recesses of his mind. His husband and daughter, out attending to their nocturnal needs, left him to his own devices, a scenario he relished.

Soon, however, his moment of quietude was abruptly disturbed by a person knocking at the door downstairs. Startled from his reverie, he glanced at the clock, puzzled by the uncharacteristically early return of his family. Concern etched his features as he pondered the reason for their abrupt return. He wondered if perhaps something had happened. Before he could ponder further, a soft servant's voice echoed from below, announcing the presence of an unexpected visitor. Setting aside his beloved books, he rose from his comfortable armchair and made his way down the creaking stairs, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the house.

The first thing he noticed was the lack of heartbeat. His senses on high alert, he tensed, his gaze narrowing as he assessed the stranger before him. The individual had yet to be invited in, but he knew that even an uninvited vampire was not to be trusted.

The woman's presence exuded an aura of refinement, her brown locks cascading gracefully around her face, which bore the hallmark crimson hue of a recent feeding. Despite the evidence of her nocturnal activities, she appeared immaculate, a testament to her self-discipline and restraint. Her poised demeanor hinted at years of experience, suggesting a vampire of considerable age and standing within their society. Yet, for all her apparent prestige, he found himself unable to recall encountering her at any of the prestigious gatherings that dotted their social calendar.

More striking, however, was the peculiar sensation stirring within him, a faint echo of recognition dancing at the edges of his consciousness.There was a form of familiarity there, he knew that woman. From where, he didn't know. And that was a scary thought.

He stood there in front of the door and she just looked at him and smirked, having seen a form of curious recognition in his eyes. "Leaving a guest outside, how impolite."

Summoning his resolve, he met her gaze squarely, his voice edged with a mixture of apprehension and defiance. "Who are you?" he demanded, his words echoing in the dimly lit foyer.

In response, she offered a chilling laugh, her demeanor unyielding in the face of his inquiry. Clenching his jaw in frustration, he awaited her response, steeling himself for whatever revelations lay ahead. "You may call me Elizabetta," she declared, her voice dripping with an icy arrogance that sent a chill coursing through him. "Your younger sister."

 It was as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath in the wake of her revelation. A sensation long forgotten, buried beneath the layers of his immortal existence, clawed its way to the surface, reminding him of the vulnerability that lingered beneath his immortal facade. His mouth went dry, parched as if he hadn't tasted blood in months. With each futile attempt to form words, his throat constricted, constricting like a vice around his vocal cords. Finally, in a barely audible whisper, he dared to voice the question that weighed heavily upon his mind.

"From the same sire?" he inquired, his voice barely more than a hoarse murmur. He cursed himself for stating the obvious, for grasping at straws in the face of this unsettling revelation.

She acquiesced curtly, "I was turned twenty two years after you. Mikhail took me in, taught me everything. May I come in? We have some matters to discuss."

The urge to slam the door shut, to banish this unwelcome intruder from his threshold, surged within him like a tide of fury. He harbored no desire to revisit the memories of his sire, to confront the horrors of his transformation that still haunted his darkest dreams.  Memories of the red glow in the night – the pain, the screams, and the thirst, and then the blood and rain on his shivering form – came flooding back in. 

Yet, somehow, with all that, he found himself inviting her in. With a grace that belied her vampiric nature, she stepped across the threshold, her presence casting a dark shadow over the once serene atmosphere of his abode. She looked around the entrance hall in wonder, appraising the manor critically. Seated in the tea room, the air thick with unspoken tension, they were served tea, a customary gesture of hospitality that she regarded with thinly veiled disdain.

"The food of mortals," commented his guest with a small sneer, "Whyever would you waste your time on such things, brother?" The taunting way in which she said the last word did not go unnoticed. She had been aware of his existence while he had never thought of this possibility. She tried to assert her dominance, even in his own home.

“I have the money to spend on such things,” he bit back easily, then he chuckled. “I suppose some aren’t as fortunate." His quip earned a sour grimace from his sis– the woman, a silent acknowledgment of his victory in their verbal sparring match. Yet, beneath her veneer of disdain, he sensed a simmering resentment, a jealousy that threatened to boil over at any moment.

As the silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the steady tick-tock of the grandfather clock, their gaze locked in a silent battle of wills. Dorian savored the taste of his tea, a calculated display of indifference in the face of her scrutiny. He set his cup down with a light clank and joined his hands together.

"While this meeting was pleasant, if you do not have anything to say to me – "

"What is so special about you?" she demanded, her voice tinged with bitterness as she voiced the question that seemed to have long plagued her thoughts.

He sneered, "What are you saying?"

"He speaks of you often, constantly, ‘My greatest creation.’ he says," she announced, jealousy contorted with her sharp features, "I have been present; you haven't. Why are you his favorite?"

Dorian's laughter rang hollow in the stillness of the room, a thin veil masking the unease that gnawed at the edges of his composure. The notion that their sire maintained a watchful eye over him sent a shiver down his spine, stirring dormant fears that he had long sought to suppress.

He put a hand on his chest. "Oh, dear sister," he cooed mockingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he feigned pity. "Is that it? Are you here because our oh so esteemed sire does not give you the attention you desperately crave?" His words, laced with false sympathy, cut through the tension like a knife, a calculated attempt to deflect her accusations.

She gritted her teeth angrily and clenched her fists. Dorian remained steadfast in his resolve, unwilling to be drawn into her petty grievances. "Why you?" she asked again.

"I am afraid you are simply inadequate," he said with a shrug. He loved the sight of her face turning red in rage. It was such a delightful thing to see. But as satisfying as her reaction might have been, Dorian knew that this confrontation served no purpose, that her presence in his home was an unwelcome intrusion. She held no information that should concern him. He wanted nothing to do with his sire, he wanted no reminder of him yet this woman was waltzing in to involve him in her irrelevant problems. "Leave " he ordered.

"You were never -"

"I don't care!" He finally snapped loudly, losing his composure and revealing more than he intended to, "He left me! I barely know anything about him!”

But before he could gather his thoughts, a voice cut through the tension, drawing his attention away from the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume him. Turning towards the sound, he found himself face to face with his beloved partner and their daughter, the unexpected sight grounding him in the present moment.

"Papa, who is that?" A small yet confident voice asked. He straightened himself and turned around in surprise. There stood his daughter (Y/n) and his partner placed protectively in front of her. Dorian hadn't even noticed their return.

"Oh, nobody starshine," he assured her. He sent a glare at the lady. "She will leave soon."

"So the rumors are true," commented the woman as she looked down at the small girl. 

"You indeed sired an immortal child." There was glee and triumph in her eyes.

At these words, Killian whispered something in the girl’s ear and (Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, but he sent her a look before leaving the room soon after. Dorian sent him a thankful look; this should not concern (Y/n).

"Leave at once," he repeated once again with more insistence.

“It is a good thing, I suppose, that I had preemptively warned the Night Council about this. You have been summoned to appear in front of them for the crime of siring an immortal child," she declared, her tone devoid of remorse as she extended the damning missive towards him.

As the letter changed hands, Dorian felt a surge of dread wash over him, a cold knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

[thebellearchives]

For your prompt event, may i request fluff prompt 12 for sukuna? 👉👈

��𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑

~ ryomen sukuna ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : there’s something so intriguing about the curse that lives inside your best friend, unfortunately for you the king of curses might’ve picked up on your interest

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff? more like sukuna being a smug flirty bastard !!

‧₊˚ a / n : so i wasn’t sure if i wanted to give sukuna a body of his own but this is the first time i write for him and i really wanted to try and describe them as different people despite sharing the same body, so Yuuji is mentioned a couple of times ~

Toge ver. || Sukuna ver. || Gojo ver.

prompt list

In the past few days there was nothing that Yuuji and you hadn’t been doing together. In fact, to say 'past few days' was most definitely an understatement, it was more like months. He was your best friend after all, so there weren’t many things about him that would surprise you anymore. Except Sukuna.

He wouldn’t come out often, but when he did there was this electric sensation of thrill running through your skin. He was something else for sure. He’d make you nervous, curious, he’d have you at the edge of your seat. And that was exactly what was going on in that exact moment. You and your best friend had decided to watch a movie that wasn’t going to be at the cinema for much longer, so when you walked in with your popcorn and drinks there was no one else there.

The movie had started out pretty interesting, the main character was likeable, and that classic event that would take him out of his comfort zone was pretty cool too, but along the way it had just gotten a bit monotone. Or so you though, because next to you your pink haired friend had been quiet for a long time. When you finally glanced at him the black tattoo-like marks on his smooth skin let you know it was Sukuna the one who was insanely focused on the movie.

After noticing that, you were not able to focus on the movie anymore. You’d shift on your seat, sip on your drink more often that you normally would. Crossing your legs, uncrossing them instantly, leaning into the opposite arm rest, sitting normally again. You tried to fix your gaze on the screen, you really did, but somehow your eyes just wouldn’t stay put and you’d end up admiring Sukuna. You couldn’t help but study the way his whole demeanor changed, he was now laid back on his seat and with his knees angled outwards, as opposed to Yuuji who’d always keep his legs straight. His head tilted to the right, resting on his fist and a slight frown. He was comfortable in his body, his muscles were firm instead of relaxed, giving him a confident aura.

But your little study session came to an end when Sukuna caught you staring at him.

“You keep staring at me instead of watching the film” his lips curled up in a malicious smile “What's up?”

What’s up? You wish you knew.

“Nothing” you cleared your throat and tried to sit straight once again “I didn’t think you’d be into this kind of movies.”

A deep, resonant and derisive laugh left his throat.

“You’re a terrible liar, did you know that?”

The truth was that laugh of his had actually turned your insides upside down, your face flushed with a deep crimson colour.

“What was i supposed to reply, then?”

“The truth of course, like a normal human. Although I suppose humans do lie a lot.” he offered you a charming grin, but you rolled you eyes and took another sip from your drink.

“And what is that truth then, king of curses?”

“Just say you think I’m hot, sweetheart.”

“What?” you could’ve sworn your heart somehow had gotten tangled in between your vocal chords, almost making you choke on your drink.

This time his laughter was more vibrant, it was clear he was enjoying making fun of you. Did he think you were some kind of toy to use for amusement?

“You’re gonna deny it?” you frowned, swallowing nervously. You remained silent, but he insisted, leaning towards you and encouraging you with teasing words “go on, say no.”

“No.”

“Yeah, like I said, terrible liar.” he smirked, playfully stroking your cheek with the back of his index.

[dropthedemiurge]

Let Free The Curse of Taekwondo - the fanmeeting (Home Sweet Home)

If we don't count the fact that I finished watching last 2 episodes a week before the fanmeeting (because life happens) – I got quite fond of the guys during the event.

I didn't know Iseon (the guy playing Juyeong, curly taekwondo boy) was so good at singing and dancing and drawing, he should be an idol for real. The idea to call fanmeeting like that and to cover Home Sweet Home by BIGBANG was his idea too :D Their cover was good and fun (the third actor Hyunwoo was definitely out of his depth here and forgot a choreo once but it was a very hilarious and cute moment xD sometimes I cringe when actors decide to perform vocals/dance during fanmeetings but that was not bad at all)

Anyway!! Unfortunately, we couldn't film anything but the final photo time (my phone is not great anyway but...) . They didn't talk too much about the creating of the show but there was a tournament of some of the most important/popular scenes in LFTCOT, and fans went crazy along with actors. They did talk about making of some of these. Funny thing is, Iseon (Juyeong) and Noorim (Dohoe) had to choose their favourites and for the first half they picked the same ones without ever talking about it.

Only a few times near the heaviest scenes they had different thoughts. Iseon picked more spicy and romantic moments (like Juyeong offering Dohoe to touch his naked thigh, the moments before kisses or staying in the school at night etc), Noorim chose scenes deeper for his character (like when Juyeong cooked rice for Dohoe, or the tense scene when they find [Hyeonwoo] is in Dohoe's house, or the ending when Dohoe discovered his social blog). The emotional ending was sweeping other contestants until the final battle (Snatching Icecream Cone scene VS Ending: Social blog). Icecream cone won :D

P.S. Regarding the scene of "breaking the curse" and stabbing taekwondo mat - Iseon said it was actually super fun stabbing, not sad at all xD

What I also enjoyed - in between talking segments, the two main actors acted out small scenes... I think they said these were the AU scenes in the timeline when there was no such curse incident in their teenage years, and they got together normally later. They were so domestic and adorable (like Juyeong coming to pick Dohoe up with umbrella but he always only takes one and then gets ill, and Dohoe didn't get why he couldn't bring two umbrellas this time to not get sick, they had a boyfriend fight about it and Juyeong got very sulky because that was the whole point for him).

*

Then they reenacted some scenes as well in front of the audience (of course, without cinematography and slow motions and music the vibes were VERY different... I'd say more playful and flirty xD). For a couple of scenes, they randomly switched up the script. I remember how they reenacted the sparring scene where in the series they practiced and then Juyeong started flirting and chasing Dohoe all over sparring room. On the stage, they didn't really roll around on the floor but chased quite a lot - and Iseon took off his belt in a single motion while chasing and calling Dohoe to have some good time xD That was both hilarious and hot.

Also! There was a break when sound director came out to perform the OST. I didn't know he was the one who sang it. It was very beautiful - I may have the sound if you guys are curious, but it was such a shame it couldn't be filmed... OST for LFTCOT is so beautiful.

In the second half, they were joined by Hyeonwoo - and I really adore him. I got fond of his character, but he's really JUST LIKE THAT in real life too xD He's older than them, and while surprisingly actor playing Dohoe is much more playful and energetic in real life, actor playing Juyeong is similar but calmer, Hyeonwoo (I forgot the name of the character oops) is really just like that. Calm and mature and a little bit awkward.

And they STILL give out ot3 energy, for real xD I mean, even during scene tournament, they had to choose between... I think, "early tension in the room in the past" and "coming home and finding third guy on the couch" scenes and Iseon was sulking Noorim chose a scene with Hyeonwoo. Iseon: "I felt the sparks between us! (characters) That was the moment when fire started burning!" and Noorim talked about the scene with three of them: "I felt the sparks there too! All that tension!!"

Asdjhlsdf anyway. They played some games (they shouldn't have put Hyeonwoo to guess meaningful words through body language because the guy doesn't really know words meaningful for other characters xDD) I might remember more details later but I gotta go to work (it's 8:30am and I'm writing this lol I gotta be out in 10 minutes - I would've also attached video but... maybe in reblog later!).

For the ending - each of them wrote a letter from their characters to other characters. And that was very touching and emotional. Dohoe wrote a long emotional letter, full of apologies and bittersweet feelings – to his dad, to Juyeong, to his friend whose feelings he ignored. Hyeonwoo wrote shorter and more playful letter to his city friends, Dohoe and Juyeong (he bickered in satoori with him, I can't with this frenemy energy xD). If you want me, I can translate them in a separate post. Or you can use auto camera translation on the image.

And Juyeong (well, Iseon)! He drew the three of them as animals on a snowy day (following the ice-loving imagery). That was so adorable and so fitting. The organizers gave us all prints of the letters and drawings (and the poster for garlic icecream lmao) on the way out.

Anyway, the fanmeeting was very cute and I was surprised this was the first Korean fanmeeting for this series and it wasn't sold out. I thought that was still a good show with great chemistry and people would love seeing the actors even 1 year after release.

p.s. i did say my camera is shitty but here's a glimpse of them saying goodbye xD

[juniperhillpatient]

I am so obsessed with Misty consistently being Natalie’s light in the dark. Their intertwined fates are decided in that very first episode when Natalie hallucinates Misty through the fire. Then “How the Story Ends” gives us Nat at her absolute rock bottom - the moment she becomes the broken adult version of herself - sobbing alone in the snowy forest & she sees Misty run by with a lantern & when she finds her she’s presented by cruel betrayal & the fact that Misty has lied about something very important but also - HOPE. a potential way to get home.

Misty is so constantly Natalie’s light in ways that subvert the usual “ray of sunshine & dark grumpy” dynamic & it’s delicious. It’s not “I’ll take care of you.” “It’s rotten work.” “Not to me. Not if it’s you” exactly. It’s “I’ll save you even when you don’t want to be saved. I’ll save you with a secret that should be unforgivable & you have to live with that. I’ll save you by making sure someone else dies instead. You’re welcome.”

Natalie didn’t ask Misty to stalk her & set up cameras & break into her room & take her drugs but it DOES save her from a relapse. When Natalie needs help hiding a body, she shows up at Misty’s door knowing Misty will help.

I have talked in the past about how Natalie’s curse is that she doesn’t GET to die. Even when she wants to even when she has a gun to her forehead or a knife to her throat & she’s ready to die - a child has to die in her place. The gun has to be ripped from her hands by cult members of the last person she wants to see.

The finale will have to decide it for certain but so far this season is readjusting my expectations & understanding of the show in a way that reframes how I see season 2.

I was very vocal about disliking Natalie’s death as a narrative choice & then I was quieter about hating Lottie’s death because I wanted to understand where they’re going with all this & I finally think I’m starting to get it.

Misty was always going to be the one to finally kill Natalie. I get that now. The parallels between Jackie & Shauna & Misty & Natalie make sense now that i understand that death is always at the end of the road for these women. I can admit that I may have reacted more based on me personally loving Juliet Lewis & Natalie’s character than really understanding where this was all going. To be fair to me, I do think season 3 has made it make sense more. Which is logical, that’s usually how stories work, you get it more as you go on.

“How the Story Ends” was a REALLY good episode in the way it showcased Van’s arc throughout the episode. Van was always going to die because she had a moment of mercy - because she refused to keep living by killing other people. We see that now especially with the reveal that she rigged the card games in the wilderness. Van surviving against all odds was never a blessing of kindness. It always came with a price. And she finally chose to stop paying that price.

If we see Lottie’s death dream & she gets some showcase in the finale this will be an almost perfect season for me.

My main issues early in the season were: 1. I didn’t understand what was going on with Adult Tai & I was frustrated that her character seemed to have become someone totally different for no reason. Now I fully understand the purposefulness of that arc. 2. I have felt that the adult TL deaths were brushed off emotionally & didn’t have the proper impact. I don’t feel that way about Van’s death at all. As sad as I am, it was a perfectly tragic & well written episode that impacted everything & closed her story the only way that would ever make sense. I have started to come around too that Natalie’s death did actually make sense & her tragedy is starting to resonate with me thanks to how it’s been handled for the most part this season especially for Misty who has almost taken on Nat’s role as the logical one & even wears Nat’s jacket. If Lottie’s death is given proper weight in the finale I will take back my previous criticisms for the most part. That’s not to say I take back every criticism I’ve ever had (the writers still have a lot of work to do on their colorblind approach to writing race, but that’s another post) BUT I will take back some of my harsher criticisms after the season 2 finale if this finale ties it together the way I have faith that it will.

I think season 3 has been really strong & for me, it’s tying together the timelines & making things that didn’t make sense before come together super well. I’m so excited for Friday I can’t stop thinking about it.