#idk I’m not attracted to him I just can’t comprehend his face

[glittter-skeleton]

Ten being into blondes specifically will never not be funny to me

[chateautae]

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

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

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

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

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 19k

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

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

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

“Are you serious, Jimin?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm, I’ll think about it.” 

And Jimin cut the call without a second to spare. 

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

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

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

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

Who the fuck is ever doing nothing on Christmas Eve? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was really you. 

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

The same you he once liked.   

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

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

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

“Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?”

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

“Oh my God, Kim Taehyung?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The same Taehyung you once liked.   

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

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

It was nearly daunting to see the gorgeous difference now. 

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

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

“And you’re still short, huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fair point, so in two days, huh?” 

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

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

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

He was a man now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung : remember to bring your competitive side today ;)

You : omg, what did jimin plan? 

Taehyung : you’ll have to wait and see 

Taehyung : jimin’s a creative one, remember? 

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

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

Taehyung : be there in 5! 

You : gotchu! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sources? You. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way, is that Y/N?”

“Holy fuck, Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamn you.

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

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

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

“But Tae-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God fucking dammit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Competition?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A very beautiful, attractive woman. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung, are you listening?” 

He blinked. “Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was an accident, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And fall even harder. 

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

You blinked. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it damn well thrilled him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d love to see you try.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was downright fearful. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

Wait. 

Jimin’s advice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pure, unadulterated love. 

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

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

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

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

You loved him too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “What?” 

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

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

“Sure, I’d love that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your apartment is nice.” 

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

“I thought I’d never see you again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And little did you know, you really did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, I can’t do this anymore.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I need you, Taehyung.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good, I hear you ruin them.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy fuck, Taehyung!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t even done anything yet.” 

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

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

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

“Taehyung, just-” 

“Beg me.” 

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

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

“More.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Taehyung.” 

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

“I love you, Y/N.” 

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

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

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

“Good morning.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gatorinator]

As an asexual, growing up religious (and idk how it is for people of other faiths) as Mormon/member of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is so strange?

Because as a child you have lesson after lesson about chastity, and being virtuous, and the dangers of being sexually intimate before marriage. And they are like “don’t date till your 16!” And “don’t seriously date someone in high school!!” And “don’t even think about sex”

And so I go “ok I love rules and I love following them, so I won’t like guys till I’m 16” and then I don’t. And I look around at all my peers, many of whom are the same faith as me, and some of them are doing things they shouldn’t, and I can’t comprehend why? Like, just don’t like them, it’s that simple??

Then you get to high school, and you can start dating, but only in big groups- and I learned how fun it is to go on dates!! I LOVED going on dates in high school, because I had a pretty good friend group and so it would be with friends, and it would be like a group hangout except someone would pay for my food. Heck yah!!??

Anyways I didn’t date my first year at college, bc I didn’t really know many people, but that wasn’t too big a deal bc!! Then I went on a mission! And some of the sisters would ask what elders I had a crush on, and I was shocked? Because we weren’t supposed to feel that way? So... don’t? It’s that simple guys.

Basically growing up I felt praised and honestly prideful at my lack of sexual attraction, because I was following the rules and apparently this was a problem for everyone else!? But now, home from my mission and faced with a guy I really like wanting to date me, when I try to talk to people about how I don’t like him like that- or anyone, all I get is “you have to get over this mindset you had”. Like, my parents, who are very religious, are telling me that because of the church, I scared myself away from wanting a relationship/sex by inherentally thinking it is bad, and in good fun my dad says “you’re broken” when I tell him I’m not attracted to this guy who is doing everything right.

And my mom tells me that we’ll figure this out and get through it- and yah. Theoretically, one day I want to get married in the temple and have a family, and kids. Gosh darn it I’m so lonely! But also? So what? If my religion did push me away from wanting sex? Wasn’t that the point? Am I not good enough because I was so good as a child? I followed all the rules, and now I’m in trouble for following them- but also I can’t break them, I can’t be queer, and I can’t be radical and I can’t change.

Maybe I don’t get married! Maybe!! Maybe I do, and it’s 20 years away. Maybe I find a guy willing to not have sex, or be romantic, and we adopt. Maybe I find a best friend who can relate and be there for me. Maybe I fluctuate between crushing loneliness and happiness because I don’t have a single person in my life who is mine, and I don’t have kids of my own, but I have a ward family, and extended family, and neighbors. Maybe I’m not something to be fixed!!

I refuse to look at it like that, because whenever I start to despair I feel the spirit comforting me, and telling me my Heavenly Parents love me, and reminding me I was made the way I am. I know, and firmly believe in the importance of families! And gosh darn it, I always planned on one of my own. But maybe it doesn’t look just like what it should. Maybe it will. But as a little girl who did “everything right”, and who tried to keep her thoughts clean and herself virtuous, and who loved to do so, I shouldn’t have to feel bad about keeping that conviction as an adult!

Idk. I’m tired of my parents trying to reassure me that we’ll “figure this out”. Because they aren’t listening- I have figured it out. I’m aroace. I don’t want it. I want to want it so badly, but at the end of the day? I don’t. And that’s not something that has to be fixed, or worked through.

So, all you aro/ace/any LGBTQIA+ peoples, religious or non religious, hi. I’m al. I love you, and so does God. There’s not a point to this, I just wanted to go off. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[ddarker-dreams]

Can I request head-cannons for Dabi, Shigaraki and Overhaul when their Darling escapes and ends up at an old friends house? Like the friend and the Darling had feelings for each other but never new until now and the Yandere finds them kissing? Idk lol just an idea. Sorry for wasting your time.

i found this idea so interesting that i went ahead and wrote mini scenarios for it!! yall get to watch shin suffer three different times LMAOO

click here to check out my commissions ! 

TW: for death, torture, mutilation

Shigaraki: 

Comfort and security have been rare in your life for the past few hellish months. Even now, as you sit with a blanket wrapped around your shivering frame; you can’t relish in your small victory over Shigaraki. It’s only been a matter of hours since you managed to escape him, and you can only imagine how desperately he’s searching. 

“[First], are you sure we shouldn’t go to the police?” Shin eyes you with concern, his lips frowning at your shivering form. Shaking your head, you take a sip of the tea he had given you earlier. The bitter flavor brings you no comfort, but the scorching warmth steels you in reality. 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I really don’t know,” you murmur to your friend, who takes a seat next to you on the couch. “I just need to… I need to get a hold of myself first. I can’t think straight.” 

Shin offers a reassuring smile, his hand reaching out. You flinch slightly as he places it on top of your free hand, being mindful of your fearful form. The pad of his thumb soothingly rubs circles into your skin, temporarily taking your mind off everything.

“I was surprised when you came to me,” Shin confesses, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I’m being out of line. I’m just glad you thought of me. That you know that you can rely on me.” 

Your breath hitches, and you look away from his face. The blush lining his cheeks says it all; but you’re unsure of what to do with it. Before Shigaraki had come into your life, Shin had been someone you adored wholeheartedly. His charisma and friendliness attracted you, he was someone that was always so well put together.

“T-thank you again for helping me.” 

All you’re able to offer is your genuine gratitude. At this, Shin shifts in his seat. 

“Of course,” Shin graciously accepts your words, moving closer to you. Your eyes widen when soft fingers delicately touch your chin, prompting you to look at him. “I would do anything for you.” 

“Shin–” 

His lips softly press against your own, muffling the squeak you let out. Apart of you feels uncertain of what to make of this, but the other part doesn’t care anymore. Why should you deny yourself any comfort you could get after the nightmares you’ve endured? 

Fluttering your eyes shut, you shyly return the affection being bestowed upon you. For a few blissful seconds, your mind is relieved of your previous woes. 

That is, until you hear a crumbling noise in the direction of Shin’s apartment entrance. 

Pulling back at the alarming noise, Shin furrows his eyebrows at a figure that makes your blood freeze. 

“Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?” Shin goes to stand from his position next to you, only for you to put your arm out in front of him. Bloodshot eyes look from your form to Shin’s, Shigaraki’s form hunched over. You hear his labored breathing, as he stalks towards the couch with a sense of urgency.

At this point, a part of you knows there’s nothing you can say to convince Shigaraki to stop what he’s doing, but it’s not enough to stop you from trying.

“Shigaraki, please, don’t do anything–!” 

It’s too late.

His hand extends out towards Shin’s, wrapping viciously around the young male’s neck. Before Shin could even let out a scream at the sensation of being chocked, his skin turns an inhumanly gray pigment. Shrieking in horror, you spring up from your position as Shin’s body turns to a pile of dust. 

“N-no…” your voice is weak, eyes blurred by tears. 

Shigaraki turns his head towards you, pupils dilated and chest heaving. He watches as you press your knees to your chest, bottom lip quivering from anxiety.

“Come,” Shigaraki beckons, voice devoid of any humanity. “I’m tired of this little side quest.” 

Dabi: 

“Got room for one more?” 

The intrusive, lighthearted words are accompanied by a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Dabi begins snickering as you instinctively pull back from Shin, eyes wide as saucers. Shin grimaces in disgust at Dabi, immediately putting two and two together.

“So you must be the fucker who’s been harasser her,” Shin growls, reaching into his pocket to reveal a switchblade. “Get the fuck out, or I’ll call the police.” 

The small blade gleams threateningly, pointed in an accusatory stance towards Dabi. Dabi’s hands remain in his pockets, not even so much as blinking at the threat presented before him. He all but ignores it, preferring to look over at your shaking form. 

“You gave me quite a shock, doll. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Dabi tilts his head, voice lowering with intent. “But enough’s enough. Come right over here princess, and I’ll give some thought to forgiving you.” 

After the time you’ve spent with Dabi, you’ve been able to pick up on the subtlest of nuances in his body language. To the untrained eye somewhat might mistake Dabi’s disposition for carefree, but you know better. He’s toying with you purposefully – there’s a concealed fury in his eyes from your string of betrayals. 

His patience with you is gone. 

“A-alright,” you pathetically concede, eyes stinging with tears. On unsteady legs you stand up, earning a look of confusion from Shin. “I’ll do what you say. But please don’t hurt him. I-I dragged him into this, he has nothing to do with it.” 

The pleading tone doesn’t garner a strong reaction, Dabi instead shrugging his shoulders at your heartfelt request. 

He waves off your feeble concern, “Sorry to say sweetheart, but you’re in no position to be making demands of me.”

“I’ve heard enough of this!” Shin abruptly stands up, firmly steeling himself next to you. Dabi’s eyes follow his every movement carefully, undoubtedly assessing if you’ll get caught up in a blast of fire from his quirk. In a protective reflex, you fling yourself in front of Shin; arms reaching out on each side. 

Dabi clicks his tongue at your interference. “What a bad girl you’ve been.” 

With that, he suddenly charges forward, your eyes barely processing the events unfolding in front of you. Dabi moves to your left abruptly, causing you to swirl on your heels. Before Shin has the chance to plunge his knife forward, Dabi’s hands grab Shin’s shoulder and wrist respectively.

A sickening snap reverberates in the air, accompanied by a hellish scream of pain. What is most likely to be Shin’s ulna erupts from the skin of his forearm, blood gushing out alongside it. Shin drops to the ground, clutching his mutilated arm while tears leave his eyes. 

A string of curses leave his lips, but Dabi responds by kicking him onto his back. Jaw agape, you lunge forward to assist your friend; only for Dabi’s hand to grip harshly onto your wrist. Hissing at the pressure, you twist your wrist around in hopes of freeing yourself. The movement only serves to bring you greater pain, so you stop momentarily. 

Shin’s cries continue on in the background as Dabi forcefully shoots you a chilling smile. The hand that isn’t holding yours flickers with blue flames, revealing Dabi’s malicious intentions. 

“I didn’t realize you’d be so eager to watch. Let’s see, what part of him should I break next? If you tell me, I’ll put ‘im out of his misery faster,” Dabi offers, making certain you had a front seat to the events that were about to unfold. “Probably, that is.”

Overhaul: 

“Please stop! This isn’t right, he has nothing to do with this!” 

Cold amber eyes glare through your soul, showing no sign of softening with compassion at your incessant begging. Kai’s lifeless gaze moves from you to your struggling companion, who currently has his arms twisted behind his back by Kurono. 

“What should we do with him, boss?” 

“If I recall correctly,” Kai begins, stepping forward to minimize the distance between himself and Shin. “One of our subjects recently passed from the stress of testing. This one will serve as a replacement.” 

“Go… to hell, you... monster,” Shin wheezes out, struggling to lift his bruised face to meet Kai’s stony stare. “[First] will always hate you.” 

The room goes silent, save for Shin’s labored breathing and your own rapidly beating heart. All the struggling in the world isn’t enough to remove you from Mimic’s tight grip, but it’s not enough to stop you from trying. The sudden emergence of the Shie Hassaikai was hell on earth, but one you were eventually expecting. 

Kai had acted faster than you thought he would, finding you after your escape in only a few hours. With his expansive number of contacts and manpower all it took was a few phone calls and orders, and here they were. 

Kai’s exchanged no words with you, ever since he and his subordinates walked in on Shin kissing you. You can’t begin to comprehend the volume of his vexation towards you, but whatever he’s feeling he’s keen on not showing it.

You wince at Shin’s words, realizing that the combination would make his fate even more painful than it would’ve been before. Kai suddenly holds one of his gloved hands up, in the direction a few other subordinates were standing.

“Knife.” 

The order is simple and to the point, and a masked individual brings him the item he requests. With the glistening weapon in hand, Kai moves it closer to Shin’s face. Before you can even let out a scream, Kai begins to steadily move the sharp end of the knife against the skin of Shin’s lower lip.

A bloodcurdling shriek leaves him, as he desperately struggles against Kurono to no avail. Kurono moves a hand to steady his face, effectively allowing for Kai to continue with the task he had started. As Kai continues his cruel task of flaying the skin off Shin’s lips, all you can think to do is close your eyes and pray it’ll all be over soon.

There’s not much more you can take of this nightmare. 

A few more excruciatingly slow seconds pass, before Kai moves back, scrunching his nose at a drop of blood that marred his white gloves. 

“Filthy,” Kai murmurs underneath his breath, a frown set on his face. “Treat him before he goes into shock. I don’t want him dying anytime soon.”

For the first time in a while, Kai’s attention returns back to you. Noting the puffiness of your eyes, it’s difficult to mask the irritation he feels at your compassion for this cesspool of trash. He begins to walk towards the door, you being prompted to follow suit alongside the other members of the Shie Hassaikai. 

“We’ll discuss your punishment in detail later.” 

All you can do is nod, feeling numb to the world as you return back to your hell. 

[youreacowgirllikeme]

After Class

note: so, I wasn’t really able to get that image of Jake as a college/university professor out of my head and this kind of happened, idk if it qualifies as an AU but anyway, here is Professor!Jake for you

(sorry for the grammar, non-native speaker here)

warnings: professor-student relationship, swearing, smut (fingering, oral), nsfw

“Shit, shit , shit.”

You ran through the empty hallways towards the lecture hall, the old clock on the wall telling you what you already knew: you were late, almost 20 minutes. And just because you overslept after working on that essay for your political history class till 4 am last night.

Professor Tapper would be so mad, he absolutely hated unpunctuality. Just the thought of him being angry or disappointed with you made you quicken your step even more, because Jacob Tapper was the very man you desperately tried to impress more than anyone else.

He usually worked as the lead political correspondent for CNN down in Washington DC, but, as he stated at the start of his first lecture, decided to take a sabbatical after the 2020 election, using the time to teach at his alma mater as a guest Professor.

He was brilliant, a walking history encyclopedia and was considered to be one of the sharpest political minds of the generation. His lectures were the perfect mix of both of those subjects, and he was throwing in a lot of his journalistic expertise as well. You admired him and truly enjoyed having him as your Professor. And you would’ve loved nothing more than to take in every single brilliant thing he said. But there was one tiny problem.

Because above all, he was hot. Like, please-bend-me-over-your-desk-after-class-hot. That very fact was often making it incredibly hard for you to pay attention to what he was saying, so you spent your lessons staring at his back, his hands, his face from the last row, letting his deep, smooth voice wash over you.

Even if he was more than 20 years older than you, you really had it bad for him, which was one of the reasons you lost sleep every night. That, and his very demanding curriculum.

Out of breath, you finally arrived at the doors of the lecture hall, opening them as quietly as possible, trying to sneak into the room without anyone taking notice of you.

“How nice of you to finally join us, Ms. Y/L/N“

Shit. He had noticed you.

And as you looked to where he was standing in front of the class you could see a deep frown on his handsome face.

He was, as usually, impeccably dressed, wearing a dark blue suit and his glasses, which were a personal weakness of yours.

It took a small cough from one of your classmates for you to stop staring at Professor Tapper and actually addressing him instead of undressing him with your eyes.

“I am so sorry for being late, Sir, it certainly won’t happen again.“ you stammered, feeling like you might faint from the embarrassment of the situation.

"I will certainly hold you to that. Still, come and see me after class to discuss this, please.“ he said, his stern voice and intense stare making your heart almost burst out of your chest.

He turned to the blackboard again, continuing to talk about McCarthyism, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the lecture hall.

You were still beyond embarrassed that he called you out like that, and even more so because it was very likely that he caught you staring at him. You hastily made your way to the nearest free seat, fortunately this was a Dartmouth senior class and not Highschool, so there were no snickers or silly comments, you didn’t draw much attention.

You spent the remainder of the lesson trying to focus on the actual topic instead of how broad your professors shoulders looked in that tailored suit jacket, or how perfectly styled his grey hair was. Unsurprisingly, you had no success as your mind wandered even further down the dangerous path of attraction you had for Professor Tapper, thinking about the things those long, elegant fingers holding the chalk could do to you or what dirty words he could whisper against your skin with this sinful voice of his.

You were so caught up in your inappropriate daydreaming that you totally missed your Professor ending the lecture and dismissing your classmates.

You heard your name being called, and looked up, startled. Professor Tapper was standing right in front of your desk, arms crossed in front of his chest, staring down at you with an unreadable expression.

“We definetly need to talk about your attitude regarding this class, Ms. Y/L/N. Not only have you been late for the fourth time this month, your participation is severely lacking, to put it mildly. I...I don’t get it.” He said, his voice staring to get louder. He ran his hand through his hair, looking exasperated.

“Your submitted papers are extraordinarily good, your analysis is always spot on, and you find a way of comprehending the topics that no one of your classmates seem to grasp. And yet you spend each one of my lessons not paying attention, you’re not able to awnser any questions and you never partake in discussions. What is the matter? Am I boring you?“

He grew more agitated with each sentence, now leaning onto your desk with both arms and staring directly at you. If he only knew how far from bored you were in his class.

You felt like you were frozen, held in place by the way his eyes were looking straight into yours. His fingers were gripping the edge of your desk now, it took everything in you not to stare at the veins on the back of his hand. And, worst of all, you felt a blush starting to creep up your neck. You couldn’t get a single word out.

“I asked you a question, Ms. Y/L/N.” there was sincere anger evident in his voice now.

„I’m...I’m so sorry, Professor Tapper. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. It doesn’t come from a place of disrespect, because I have nothing but admiration for you...” you stopped yourself before saying something you might regret. You could feel your blush intensifying.

A look of realization flashed over your Professors face.

“Oh, so thats what this is all about, I see.” he murmured, and turned around, walking towards his own desk in the front of the classroom.

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements to get you transferred to Professor Coopers class. This situation is highly inappropriate and it can’t interfere with your academial career, I won’t allow it.”

You were shocked.

Quitting Professor Tappers class? Never having another lecture with him again seemed like an impossible thing to even imagine. Before you could stop yourself, you began to speak again.

“No, Sir, please don’t do this. I’ll get a grip on it, I promise. It’s a silly crush, I won’t act on it, ever. I’ll never be late again, and I’ll participate, I’ll respond to every single question you give me, just please don’t make me quit your class.” you pleaded.

Your professor didn’t answer, so you got up from your chair and made your way over to him, coming to a halt in front of his desk. He was looking at you, eyes dark, an almost pained expression on his face. You took the paper you spent all night finishing out of your bag, putting it on his desk.

“This is my latest assignment, please read it before you make your decision. I am really putting so much effort into my work for this class, and I can’t imagine going to another professor with my questions. Please don’t send me away.” You were almost begging now, desperation evident in your voice.

Professor Tapper sighed and took of his glasses, the motion making your heart go fast you felt arousal starting to burn in your lower stomach. He was too attractive for his own good. You realized, too late, that you said the last part out loud.

“Sorry.” you whispered, not daring to meet his eye.

“Ms...Y/N” he said, addressing you by your first name for the first time ever.

You looked up to him.

“What you don’t understand is that I can’t allow myself to teach you anymore, considering this new...development. I just can’t do it.”

He took another deep breath, looking as if he was under an immense amount of stress. His shoulders were tense, and the crease between his eyebrows was more prominent then ever.

“But why?” you cried, “we can act like this whole conversation never happened. Nothing has to change, I’ll do better, I promise!”

He slammed his palm onto the table, the loud noise echoing through the empty lecture hall.

“Because it takes every damn ounce of my self control not to throw you over this desk right now and have my way with you, so how the hell am I supposed to teach you every day knowing that this is exactly what you want me to do? Staring at me like you’re doing it right now? I can’t do it!”

he was almost shouting now, breathing heavily. He was leaning over his desk so that his face was just inches apart from yours, close enough for you to see the small wrinkles around his eyes and how his lips were slightly parted.

And then you just leaned over and kissed him. His lips were soft but unmoving under yours. He was absolutely rigid for a second. Then he groaned against your mouth, and one of his hands reached out to cup your jaw and pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

A moan escaped your lips, and he broke free, taking several steps back from you. He was breathing hard and you could see a bulge beginning to form in his suit pants.

“Y/N, you have to leave. Now. We can’t do this.”

But there was no chance you were throwing away this opportunity. You’ve wanted this man for months, and this was your shot. So you slowly circled the desk and stopped right in front of Professor Tapper.

Gathering all your courage, you put one of your hands on his arm...and let the other one brush against his tight, close to his crotch. He let out a hiss, but didn’t make an attempt to remove your hands. His body was tense, but his eyes were dark and full of desire. He clearly wanted this as much as you did.

“No one needs to know. “ you whispered. “We obviously both want this, we’re both adults and you’re not even responsible for my final exam. You’re a guest professor, plus my graduation is only two months away anyway. I’ve wanted this, you, since I first stepped into your class.”

This broke his last resolve, he surged forward and started kissing you again, harder this time, his hands roaming your back, going downwards and squeezing your ass through your skirt as he pressed you against the hardening bulge in his trousers. "Fuck...are you sure you want to do this?“ he groaned into your ear. You just managed a breathy „Oh my god, yes.“

He instantly grabbed your hair to tilt your head back and cover your exposed neck with kisses and nibbles, making your skin break out in goosebumps and heat coiling in your lower stomach. You could feel yourself starting to get wet, and grinded your core against his erection again, your hands fisted into the lapels of his suit jacket. You moved against him, causing him to groan again, the deep, rumbling sound only fueling your arousal.

Your hands were shaking as you started working on his fly, opening the zipper and palming his cock through his boxer briefs.

While he continued to kiss your neck, his hands found their way under your skirt and he quickly pulled your panties down. As soon as your hot center was exposed, one of his long fingers parted your folds, gathering wetness.

Two of his digits entered you in a swift motion and the feeling of his fingers stretching you was like heaven. He was stroking that special spot deep inside you with every move as he plunged in and out of your wet pussy.

You buried you head in Jacobs (yes, you started thinking of him as Jacob, which was fair enough considering he had his fingers buried inside you) shoulder, muffling your increasing moans as you felt your orgasm approaching. The familiar tingling started low in your belly and slowly spread into every part of your body as Jake continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you faster and faster, the heel of his hand rubbing against your clit in the most delicious way.

"I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, feel you come apart under me. Come on, darling, come on my fingers.“ he growled into your ear and bit your earlobe. That was the last straw and you came with a cry, your walls clenching around his fingers as pleasure surged through you.

Your knees were weak as you slowly removed your head from his shoulder to look him in the eyes. His blown pupils and heavy breathing were making it obvious that this was affecting him just as much as you, which was also evident from the very prominent erection that was tenting his boxer briefs through the open fly. He carefully withdrew his fingers and quickly wiped them on his pants.

"Wow“ you said, still trying to find your breath. "That was...amazing“

Your head was still spinning a bit from the intensity of your orgasm, but you were already thinking about how to repay him for making you feel so good.

You reached out your hand to palm his erection again, making him utter a low groan. Leaning forward, you whispered into his ear.

"Let me reciprocate, please.”

"You don’t have to-"

You broke him off with a small smirk.

"Please, I insist.”

Without hesitation, you dropped to your knees in front of him. He watched you intensely, sucking in a sharp breath as you looked up to him from under your lashes while you slowly pulled down his briefs along with his trousers. His erection sprung free, and you wasted no time, putting your hand around the base and slowly started taking the head into your mouth. You could feel his cock heavy on your tongue as you slowly sucked him deeper. One of his hands fisted into your hair and he started thrusting in and out of your mouth.

You put your hands onto his thighs for leverage, softly scraping you nails across his skin, which only seemed to spur him on, his thrusts starting to become deeper.

“God, Y/N, your mouth feels absolutely fantastic. You look so beautiful on your knees, sucking me off, taking my cock between your pretty lips.”

You almost couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your usually so eloquent Professors mouth. Who would’ve known he could talk so dirty.

It turned you on, immensely, and you increased your efforts, taking him even deeper into your mouth. You could feel his thrusts starting to quicken, and even if it was getting harder for you not to gag, you were enjoying this slightly rough treatment.

"Shit, I’m- I’m going to come, Y/N.” he gasped, locking eyes with you.

You nodded your head as far as it was possible, signaling him to not stop. Instead, you wrapped your hands around his legs and swallowed his cock deeper until it was hitting the back of your throat. He let out a deep, guttural moan and tightened his grip on your hair almost painfully as he came inside your mouth.

You released him, wiping the spit from your lips and looked up at your Professor. He was a sight to behold, dark eyes, tousled hair, leaning against his desk as he was slowly coming down from his high. You spoke first, getting up from the floor.

“I...liked that.” you said, unsure of what to say exactly.

He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand across his face.

“It was absolutely amazing. But we shouldn’t have done it. The very last thing I want is to take advantage of you. You deserve to be treated right.” he said in a low voice as he was readjusting his clothing. Hearing him say those things made a warm, happy feeling spread inside your chest. He cared. This hasn’t been just some quick way to blow off steam.

“You treated me exactly right, please dont worry...Jacob” you said, testing out the unfamiliar first name. He just nodded, and then his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug as he pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

“Thank you so much. But if you want this to continue, I must insist that you transfer into Professor Coopers class. Please, Y/N.”

his voice was heavy with emotion and he released you from the embrace to look directly at you.

“I agree. And I very much want this to continue, so I’m gonna transfer. It’s only for a few more weeks anyway. But, and this is my condition, you have to take me out for dinner this weekend.”

“Fair enough. I’d love to take you out properly. And please, call me Jake.”

[crimsonandcloverwrites]

bhah ch5 reread time for emotions

idk why eddie half-asleep mumbling about pancakes is so funny to me but like... relatable king

we love the contrasting feelings of Dani and Eddie vs Jamie’s house

lmao poor mikey. let the boy shred on his air guitar in peace

god this is all so domestic I want what they have (owen’s pastries and Jamie in a bandana)

a great, good place huh???? idk why clever canon line inclusion sometimes makes me go a little bit mad but here we are

Dani wanting to leave her mark on this place vs... whatever the fuck is going on in her own home the signs are all there babe

Jamie seeing the problem of Dani not having a desk to work at and immediately wanting to fix it vs Eddie just being Eddie hmmmmm

Carson and Mikey being buddies is actually something that can be so personal

dang Jamie and her quiet temper are so intimidating

problem solver Dani is here we love her. god they’re such a good match

skjfhdfkjfh so much talk about loins ladies get a room already

"Sometimes I just like making other people happy, is all." Dani you are toooo sweet (even if this gets you into trouble sometimes)

oh my godddd Jamie sending Dani flowers I can’t handle this. DANI WANTING TO KEEP IT A SECRET TOO LIKE WANTING TO KEEP THEIR TIME AS JUST FOR THEM I’M GOING INSANE

oh she is having Thoughts about their thighs pressing together and their fingertips grazing. this is so gay. gayer than whatever is gonna happen when they finally bone (I will happily retract this statement if proven wrong 👀👀👀). nothing tops this on the homosexual heirarcy of intimacy

mikey trotting towards school w the lil packed lunch jamie just threw him is so adorable I love the visuals of this fic

I am headcanoning Dani’s Aunt Liz who moved out east to be gay and no one will convince me otherwise (also bring her back Dani needs a cool gay aunt in her life)

Dani being presented with an opportunity to not hang out with Eddie’s familly: I will be there also I can be there 7 hours early also I will bring snacks

Charlotte? Charlotte Wingrave?? Is she on maternity leave to have Miles???

“"Yeah," she lied.” is one of my fave sentences ever idk why I just... the agreement and the deceit of it all (not necessarily specific to this moment tho it is a good one. I just love them in general)

ooft Dani feels so close to breaking here r.e. Eddie and their relationship and I cannot help but wonder if she’s been like this for a while or if the Jamie of it all is really accelerating things

aww Dani’s birthday we love to celebrate she

Dani looking for Jamie I always always imagine as a grounding thing even if she’s not aware of it. Jamie truly is her person and I will be going insane about it ty

Jamie’s wardrobe is truly top tier she is so dreamy

gah the um. heights of everyone on the wall... the familyness of it all. the history. time to look away before I explode

“It’s just the way it’s always been.” ooooohhhh these lines in sort of inconesquential moments that capture the essence of everything!!!!! genius

i fucking hate how hot I find Jamie smoking akjdfhdjfh why can I see it so clearly in my head and why am I like Dani Clayton levels of attracted to her about it

oof Dani truly hates her n Eddie’s house (a house is not a home.glee.mp3 etc). I’m also just realising with a return to the wall heights thing that Jamie was probably thinking back to simpler times and what this house represented as a home to her (both as a welcoming place to be/an ideal kind of home but something she will never really have/be a part of) my heart hurts

What is Dani wishing for as she blows out the candles does she even know what she wants???

Jamie insisting she gets to sit beside Dani is so adorable

the casual domesticity of Dani and Jamie together has me making the stupidest most endeared faces at my screen I love it

the camping trip mention kjfdghdfkj I will never forget Dani gay panicking the whole time I love this lead up

god why am I thinking so hard about the different paths Dani and Jamie went down r.e. their sexualitites rn like Dani being all scared of Jamie mixing w her work life and people realising that there’s something there is just... she’s so fuckign afraid of being herself and then u have Jamie who has lived her life as authentically as she can in that sense and the contrast of it all is so damn interesting (and breaks my heart a bunch)

is this the scarf Dani gave her for christmas does she still have it oh my god

“"And here I thought you were a fan of delayed gratification," Jamie said, chuckling softly.” please tell me this is a surprise tool that will help us later

wait i take it back about the gayest thing ever. I think this blindfolded w Jamie gently guiding her w a hand on her back while she says gentle reassurances like “I got you” is possibly the gayest they’ve ever been. OH she’s guiding her to the desk she refurbished with her own two gay hands this is peak lesbianism. i’m gonna make a heirarcy of needs pyramid based on this fic one day just u wait

ok but this is really soft as hell god I love the thoughtfulness of Jamie. get u a best friend that will fulfill ur every need and feels like home and then kiss her a bunch

“I feel like I'm standing in the middle of the room, screaming, and nobody even looks at me. Nobody can see me." this nell crain ref pls I cant

i think it’s really like... sweet in a way that both of them are sort of dancing around this like there are so many feelings there and they’re just sort of clinging to each other and the familiarity of their bond without pushing it into anything more even incidentally. i think it’s v much a testament to the writing that their relationship and what it is/what it could become isn’t overwhelming to either of them in moments like this. it all just feels very authentic and I love this fic so dang much for it

the library trip ok are we ready 4 the gay meltdown of the century

god them lowkey playfighting on the bus pls this is just like the perfect mix of teacher Dani trying to be professional meets teenage Dani and Jamie cuteness aaah

lmao is Jamie having a small gay meltdown over Hannah Grose that is perfection

fvkdjfgkjfh Hannah and Jamie discussing Dani’s pretty eyes I love this so much please I need more of this and Dani getting flustered about it

god the Jamie and Jackie history I need to know this backstory so bad

plsss Jamie putting Dani’s hand in her jacket pocket to keep it warm could you two be any more digustingly cuuuuute.

jesus fuck the tension of them almost making out in the back rowww. Jamie having a meltdown. Dani falling impossibly harder in love

i can’t believe this moment was it for Dani. lesbianism is stored in the library

oof the parallels between this and the school dance bathroom meltdown Jamie gone vs Jamie HERE in ways she can barely even comprehend. everything is NOT OK

“She couldn’t want this. She couldn’t want Jamie.” Ms Dani your delusions

yeehaw I’m officially halfway through my reread may the next 5 chapters align with the universe and see me through until ch11 is here amen

[crimson-dxwn]

At Odds: Chapter 3

Summary: Hey all, so I decided to change this from a Reader Insert fic into third person (?). Tbh I hate this chapter but it sets up some necessary things. Decided to just bite the bullet and just post since I’m probably gonna die in a snowy ditch in MT tomorrow.

Kal thinks about some things, Laseema gets the deets, and doc comes back to Kyrimorut

Warnings: Sexual harassment? idk there’s not much to warn for here. Slight mutual pining

Words: 4040

Kyrimorut, Northern Mandalore

Spring

Kal suspected the situation with Parja had been a lot hairier than the doc had let on; it was just a feeling really, he didn’t have any knowledge about anatomy or birth or babies. But he did have a keen eye for how people worked under pressure, and that woman had nerves of steel. Like he told her before, she was mandokarla, she had that rare combination of daring and compassion that he’d once seen in Etain. The right stuff. People didn’t realize that the right stuff was different in everyone. Besany had proven it when she chose to commit espionage against her own government, Parja had showed it every tough day with Fi when he couldn’t even remember his own name, let alone walk. Laseema raised Kad without even a question, because she loved the boy and Atin.

She had raged at him, managing to hit him in that well of self-loathing that he usually kept carefully covered with his hatred for the Empire. Etain and Darman, the men and boys he’d lost, being disowned by his own sons, all of it he could bear, but he couldn’t - wouldn’t - seem to forgive himself for anything. He felt like a failure in every way that mattered. He wondered when it would break him.

If he dwelled on his failures too long, he would drown in their sheer volume, and he realized that when Kal watched the doc work, he simply couldn’t recall any of them, or at least they didn’t weigh so heavy. And then somehow they’d fallen into bed together like two teenagers, practically ripping each other’s clothes off. It turned out that her sharp mind and nimble hands were good for more than just delivering babies. He didn’t think he could recall the last time he’d gotten that hard that fast - definitely before Kamino. A mistake, she called it. Maybe it was, but he couldn’t deny that there was an undeniable attraction between them. 

“Buir?” Ordo’s voice rings out behind him and Kal turns to meet his eyes, finding concern there. Ordo had always been protective of him, more so the older they both got. His mind had a hard time reconciling how fast his boys grew up with how much time had actually passed. 

“What is it, son?

“I...uh,” he says, “wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Fine, Ordo. Just seeing the doc out. Let’s get back to breakfast before it’s gone.”

They walk in companionable silence down the hall, though Kal can tell that something is bothering Ordo. By now, he knew all of his sons’ anxious tics and twitches as if they were his own.

“Something on your mind?”

Kal wasn’t able to wheedle it out of him, as they’d reached the door to the karyai and the chaos that made up breakfast time in the huge household. Ordo made his way back to Besany’s side, where Mird was still chirping and wagging his tail furiously and Walon was considering the scene with a shit eating grin on his face. Oh. 

Guess he’d get to see the doc again after all. 

Laseema, sitting with Kad on her lap, just rolled her eyes knowingly and shoveled a bite of food into her mouth. The blue twi’lek seemed to know everything before the rest of them, as if all the news and gossip of the family flowed through her first and then filtered out to the rest. Kal decides he can’t bother to try and comprehend women. It isn’t a new feeling for him. 

He thinks on the hurry that the doc left in and what she’d said when he caught up with her. Kal was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to upset her, after all she was just fine when he left her in his room. No, it must have been something else. 

Walon Vau finally breaks the awkward silence. 

“Mird seems to think you two have something to announce,” he says, an amused look still on his patrician face. Vau sips his strig as if he has all the time in the world and Kal half expects the man to rest his boots on the table, only his manners are too good. 

Ordo looks at his wife with a bewildered expression - he’s at a loss as to what to say, that much is obvious. The null is trying in vain to shoo Mird back to where Walon is sitting. 

Laseema raises a tattooed eyebrow, still bouncing a silent Kad. Scorch and Sev are at the table in their shorts and undershirts, and they glance between their buir and the null ARC expectantly like two vultures. They’re ready for a fight. 

“Spit it out, Ordo,” teases Scorch, oblivious.

“I’m pregnant,” Besany blurts out tearfully, and stands so fast her chair tips over behind her. Mird scrabbles backwards as she storms past it and out of the room. 

If there wasn’t going to be a fight before, there certainly was now. Ordo, unable to stand seeing Besany upset in any way, rounds on Scorch. Kal does see a flare of contrition on his face, but Ordo’s imminent anger flips a switch in the commando and he clamps down, readying himself for what comes next. Vau’s boys always did have skewed self-preservation instincts. They were all feeling cooped up lately, and it was obviously making tensions run high. 

“Enough,” he says, from the vantage point of his appointed chair. A harsh word from Kal is typically enough to make just about anyone who lived in the vicinity stop what they were doing, even two oversized grown men fighting over nothing. Ordo and Scorch remain standing, but their postures have relaxed, if only marginally. 

“She wanted to wait to tell people,” Ordo growls, looking from Vau to Scorch to Mird and back. 

“Ordo, son, why don’t you go make sure Bes is okay.” Maybe he wasn’t the best with emotion, but Kal could infer that she probably didn’t want to be alone right now. And it had the added benefit of keeping at least a few solid stone walls between Ordo and Scorch until the tension simmered down. 

They ate in silence until Sev and Scorch traipsed off to get ready for the day and Walon decided to open his mouth again. 

“Men need a good fight,” he says, staring into his strig, “been cooped up too long.”

 “I think for once, you and I agree,” answers Kal. 

“You may get what you wish for,” Laseema pipes up. Her mouth is set in a grim line. Never one to underestimate, Vau considers her with another vaguely amused look. “When I was in Keldabe, there was talk of an Imperial garrison being set up there.”

Vau’s amused look is gone. It was a surprise to both of them. Imperial transports had been making their way in and out of the system for a while, that they already knew. Mereel had been monitoring transmissions, but an occupation of the Mandalorian capital hadn’t been in the list of encrypted messages they’d managed to decipher. The Empire had been smart enough to ditch the dead Republic’s encryption after Order 66. Smart, he thought, but really kriffing inconvenient for them. Jaing and Mereel were only able to make out a word or two, rarely full sentences from the transmissions they were able to intercept. Nothing about a garrison.

He kicks himself for not utilizing Laseema’s skills earlier. Women could go where soldiers, even ones trained to infiltrate, could not. Twi’leks especially. As unfortunate as it was, the fact that her species was an oft-chosen one for slaves and servants had a sort of advantage. And something about Laseema made people want to tell her things. It might do for her to make another trip into Keldabe soon. Atin wouldn’t love the idea, but Kal had a feeling that Laseema would be on board.

“I believe it’s time for a proper recon mission.” Vau stares intently at Laseema, who returns his sharp gaze. She’s come a long way from Qibbu’s. 

The mood on the planet, or at least what Kal had gathered from their excursions to Enceri, was becoming increasingly grim. Even more unsettling was the news trickling in from the core and the inner rim as Palpatine’s new Empire gradually tightened its hold. And to top it all off, the last time Kal had seen Mij Gilamar his old friend hadn’t cracked a smile the entire time. There was an outbreak in Sundari, something like Candorian Plague, sweeping through the shelters of people left unhoused after the Republic had taken back the city from Maul. It was the first time Kal had seen the man look his age. It was just another worry to stack on top of all the others. 

----

Two weeks later, Keldabe, Mandalore

Spring 

Keldabe is a mash of buildings and dwellings of various ages. Pale brick, duracrete, steel, even wood and thatch mix together on the blocks. It makes for good hidey-holes, places to meet in secret, in the shadows thrown by the rooms stacked on top of one another lining narrow alleys. Keldabe is the unofficial capital of the planet, and the oldest city, older than Sundari by far and located in a much more hospitable location. 

Laseema is on Baker street, one of the oldest in the city, pretending to be just another citizen doing their shopping for the day, comparing prices and quality. It’s Keldabe’s market day, and the crowds make for good cover and good listening; the vendors are always eager to trade gossip for business. She even buys a pan of the sweet rolls that she knew Atin likes. Baker street, near the outskirts of the city, is one of the most popular and packed avenues, and every so often Laseema can see the gleam of a pure white helmet over hair and beskar-clad heads.

She still finds it hard to call them stormtroopers. They’re clone troopers, her brain tells her, you’re safe, it’s Atin’s brothers under there. But she is wrong, and these stormtroopers would haul her off to goddess knows where if they knew who she was connected to. A rush of cold comes over her and she burrows back into the crowd, away from the nearest white helmet. There are more this trip, almost twice as many as her last time in the city, some on patrols and others on leave, weaving through the throng of people with their helmets off, chatting with their buddies. Some are nat-borns, as Atin called them, and others are clones. You can tell the difference by the way they carried themselves. The nat-borns are sloppy, slouching, the ones who joke with their friends and flirt with pretty girls whether they were on leave or on duty, and more often wearing officer uniforms. The former clone troopers walk in solemn silence, forever in sync, without even their painted armor to distinguish them. 

She has a mission here. She’d offered because she wanted to help and because Kal had asked, though he’d never make her do anything she didn’t want to do. But Laseema wanted to feel useful outside of making food and taking care of Kad. It felt like everyone else was in danger constantly and she felt horribly guilty being the one who got to stay safe at home.

She can handle playing the dumb twi’lek role. At Qibbu’s it had always been the most reliable way to get the best tips, and she played it well, even now, years after she’d danced around a pole. The downside was that it made her seem like an easy target, which is why she always approached the slimiest, fattest, slowest-looking officer she could manage. Laseema wasn’t big, but she was fast and now she had her knife hidden on her person for anyone who decided to try something. She hoped it didn’t come to that.

She already has good intel from the merchants she’s seen so far. But she wants more; to get it she’ll have to take on a proportional amount of risk. She is on Baker Street for its popularity, but also for its proximity to the bathhouse positioned on the corner at the end of the street. She has...unpleasant memories associated with such establishments that try to bubble up, despite knowing that this wasn’t that sort of place. 

It’s old, made of cracked creamy yellow brick, with a domed top and big wooden doors. Surreptitiously, she brushes her hand up against the credits Kal had given her in an inside pocket of her tunic, and makes her way up the stairs and through the great doors. The old woman at the desk smiles warmly at her.

“Su cuy’gar,” the woman greets.

“Su cuy’gar,” replies Laseema. She can tell they are alone in the atrium out of the corner of her eyes, but gets up close to her nonetheless. With any luck, Kal had been able to contact her and smooth things along. If not, she’s prepared. Fortunately, few Mandalorians in the North, including Keldabe, were sympathetic to the Empire. Yet. 

“A towel for you,” the owner says, handing the article to Laseema. 

“Thank you.” She moves to press the credits into the older woman’s hand, but the woman pushes her fist back. 

“There’s no need. Tell our friend Ayati says hello.” Ayati jerks her head towards the locker room on her right. “You’ll be working steam room two today.”

Laseema only nods and heads to the changing room, and quick peek reveals a worker’s uniform hidden within the folds of the towel. She stashes her old clothes and quickly dons the new tunic and cropped flowy trousers that were unisex and ubiquitous throughout the facility. Steam room two, she reminds herself. That must be where the good pickings are. It would be officers, preferably; the grunts never got the full scope of information, let alone plans for the future. 

Grabbing a stack of towels, she exits the locker room and heads past the pools and baths, down a long hallway at the back of the complex that houses the private steam rooms. Numbered doors are cut out of the paneled wood wall. Laseema is alone in the hallway, standing outside steam room two, towels in hand. She positions her ear cone close to the crack between the door and its frame, listening. 

Four voices, maybe five come from inside. Her heart beating is making her blood rush in her ears and she wills it to slow, unable to hear much over the sound of her anxiety. Finally, she can hear more of the conversation from inside. 

“- not the worst place I’ve been stationed.” 

“Me either.” 

“You never know what you’ll get with these Mando girls with their helmets and armor on though”

“Just keep the helmet on!” 

They laugh.

“- more troopers coming in a month,” one says, “Should add a little variety that won’t stab you in the back when you’re taking your pants off.” 

More laughter. A bench creaks and Laseema holds her breath. 

“New barracks better have nice beds than what they’ve got us in now-“

“Beds on the floor, what kind of savages-“

“It’s 1500. Better get back, boys.” 

“Aye, captain,” come echoed voices

Laseema makes for a quick exit and then changes her mind. She can handle a little risk, after all, this wasn’t the worst situation she’d been in. And if it helped Atin and their family, the risk was worth it. A hand rattles on the doorknob as it opens and Laseema scampers to position herself where they’ll see her, a little down the hall, holding fresh towels in outstretched arms. 

Four men exit the room and she keeps her eyes down, praying they’ll ignore her and keep talking. She thanks the goddess they’re in shorts and not naked. Atin had been...less than keen of this plan for multiple reasons, this being one of them. 

Three take a towel without a word or second glance. Laseema is not so lucky with the fourth, who takes a towel and pauses to look her up and down. He’s one of the younger ones, tall with a forgettable pinched face. 

“Now here’s something you don’t see every day.” She dares look him in the eye, remembering the knife in its sheath around her waist, hidden by her tunic. 

“A Mandalorian tailhead?” The man’s lips twist into a smirk and he directs his attention back down towards her, amused by his own cleverness. “How much?”

“How much what?” Laseema knows what. She’s been asked before, many times. It’s a phrase men like him keep at the tip of their tongues, because in their minds anything can be bought, including - especially - people. 

“For you.” He looms over her as the other men watch from a distance. 

“I’m not for sale,” she spits out, barely containing herself. If she starts something here, she won’t be able to finish it, not four against one.

The man runs his knuckle down one of her lekku and she yanks it away, scandalized, and shudders. The man laughs under his breath. Laseema lets her eyes focus on a bandage that hangs half off his upper arm instead of on his face. 

“I have to get back to work,” she says, still avoiding his eyes, “please excuse me.” And she walks away, slowly and calmly, barely able to restrain herself from breaking into a run. Atin would’ve broken his fingers one by one, she thinks, and I would help. It was probably best her husband didn’t know about her run-in with the tall imperial.  

It was worth it, even for the small amount of information she’d gleaned. New barracks. More troopers. One month.

Back at the compound, Kal, Walon, Ordo and Laseema digest the information. 

“Sounds like an invasion,” says Ordo, his mouth full of food. 

Kal knew Laseema would pull through for them. Initially Atin had seemed a little put out by the notion but had said nothing, only shooting Kal an angry glance when she came home in one piece, if not a little shaken up.

“We knew it was only a matter of time.” Walon Vau somehow looks even more grim than usual. He runs a hand through his grey hair, thinking. “A month…”

“You know there aren’t enough of us,” Kal says, and Vau nods in agreement.

“I know,” he replies. 

“Then we’ll just have to get creative.” 

———

The long speeder ride from Keldabe to Kyrimorut gives her time to think. 

She’d been lonely for a long time, at least as long as she can remember, the short sorry course of her dating life culminating in a few brief relationships that ended sourly. Long, punishing hours were usually the answer to any painful thoughts, and it had worked well for her, at least until Kyrimorut, where every emotion she’d worked so hard to ignore had threatened to spill over and drown her.

And there was Kal. At first she was sure he hated her guts, but the way he watched her work during Parja’s delivery and the absolute awe in his voice and on his features was as sincere as she’d ever seen. It touched a part of her that she’d thought was long gone, deadened by years of loss and rejection. Somehow she feels they had forged a small connection, that he understood in some small way that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. 

She’d left the foolish hope of her twenties behind, and with it the illusion of finding someone who would and could keep up with her long hours and nights away. So far she’d been disappointed, but not surprised. 

Kyrimorut was remote and well hidden, though not too far from Enceri, the nearest trading post, by speeder. She’ll have to face Kal again, but any apprehension would be easy enough to hide behind the real reason she were at the compound. 

It feels like almost no time has gone by since she’d stormed out two weeks ago. Gently, she reminds herself that she is here for business and not to fall back into bed with the patriarch of Clan Skirata. 

A familiar face answers the door when she knocks. Fi stands in the open doorway, looking much too chipper for a new parent.

“Sorry, baby factory’s closed.”

“Feels like I never left,” she replies, wishing she hadn’t. 

“Come on in. You should stay for dinner, Atin and Laseema are cooking tonight and it’s bound to be something good. If you want your tastebuds burned off, that is.”

She laughs. “I’m Mando, how could I not?” Loving spicy food was practically a cultural requirement. 

Fi leads her through the halls and they chat about he and Parja’s little one. Lael was a quiet little thing, much to the chagrin of his talkative father. They reach Ordo and Besany’s pod of rooms and Fi takes his leave, giving her a little hug and a peck on the cheek as he goes. 

The couple is sitting inside, Ordo looking both elated and horrendously nervous at the same time. She wonders if he needs a garbage can nearby and make a mental note to have him sit in the delivery room when the time comes. Fainting husbands were a very unwelcome addition to the stress of a birth. 

The appointment goes well, with the exception of Ordo’s constant questioning and Besany’s futile attempts to calm him down. She suspects some of his anxiety is compensation for the guilt of putting her in this situation. She’s been sick, and these soldiers aren’t suited to sitting around and watching people they love suffer. 

“Only a few more weeks to go and you’ll probably be feeling better, cyar’ika.” Besany smiles weakly back at her, unconvinced. 

A normal sonogram later, they’re both happy and relieved, fawning over the sono printout and she leaves them to it. 

Much to her displeasure, Kal is waiting outside Besany and Ordo’s door. He’s wearing his armor, the gold of the beskar gleaming subtly in the morning light. Her stomachs drops into her feet at the sight of him, having to face him again. 

“We’d feel better if you were here instead of alone in Keldabe,” he says. Kal’s hand is wrapped around her upper arm, gently pulling her back towards him. She can feel her heart pick up at his hand on her bare skin. “There’s some osik going on with the Empire and we’re not sure what it is yet.”

“I can take care of myself, Kal. Kyrimorut is too far from my patients and the hospital to make it work.” Never one to take no for an answer, he tries again. 

“I don’t think you understand. They’re planning something big.”

“Why me?”

“What?” He stares at her, annoyance plain on his face. It’s always easy to get Kal riled up, but today it takes no effort at all. He must truly be concerned about what’s going on with the Empire; it gives her pause for the first time that day. 

“Why do you want me to stay?” 

“Bes is going to need you,” he replies. 

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re gathering up all your tools and closing up shop? Besany isn’t the only person who needs me, Kal. I can’t just quit my job and come live here, as attractive as that might sound right now.” 

She can tell his frustration is mounting as his expression sets on his lined face. A tired, lonely part of her brain is begging her to just say yes, to let someone else take care of her for once instead of the other way around. She wants to stay with him, wants to feel protected, wanted, valued outside of her work.

What if the Empire did dare invade Mandalore? For some reason it seemed unfathomable until this point, having lived on the planet her whole life with the exception of medical school, she’s used to being surrounded by warriors; the idea of occupation has never even crossed her mind. 

She’s seen the stormtroopers in Keldabe, but so far nothing has transpired. Talks with the Empire’s representatives were going well according to the Mand’alor - Fenn Shysa still believed that Mandalore could avoid occupation. 

Taglist: 

@clonewarslover55 @leias-left-hair-bun @cherry-cokes-world @wolfangelwings

@nelba @passionofthesith @808tsuika 

[phoebehalliwell]

I've been thinking about season seven lately, and we missed such an amazing opportunity with Paige and Drake. From their very first interaction they had fantastic banter and they could have played off each other so well, Drake fighting against his demon heritage and Paige fighting for a sense of identity in the face of unrelenting sisterhood/whitelighter destiny. Plus, Paige would be wrestling with finding herself becoming attracted to someone after losing Kyle, and he's a demon to boot.

tbh i've always liked paige/drake more than phoebe/drake idk i just feel like they had that very much needed initial chemistry that imo was just sorely lacking from phoebe/drake like i like the relationship on paper but like lord help me i do not fucking get it i simply do not like. like. me n my stupid idiot brain simply just it does not comprehend phoebe/drake 4 shit they killt in my rare pair valentines poll and i like giffed a set for them wrote a lil ficlet for them and like lord help me i kept waiting for that other shoe to drop and just like. it never did!! lol. but no imo paige/drake definitely had something that phoebe/drake did not and it could have been really fun bc we see a lot in season seven like paige try to drown herself in work and she's like fighting for her fucking life to keep magic school afloat half the time to give her that workplace romance could have been so fun just some levity in her life like. like phoebe/drake was like ~teaching phoebe to love again~ but like bro. every relationship after cole goddamn was teaching phoebe to love again like. like. like. we don't need to keep doing this!! if that's the only goal just bring out the cupid already! drake narrative wise offered very little that leslie didn't (& i'm not putting them on the same tier bc drake was obvi a better love interest than leslie who could have been actually great if only that relationship was good but it wasn't so he isn't but like. u have to acknowledge both leslie and drake seemed to have the exact same narrative of open urself up to the possibility of love! no risk no reward! don't drown yourself in somber sober ethics to try to rationalize your way out of love, embrace it!!! like. how many times we gonna do this lads).

paige on the other hand paige has had zero love interests with the sole purpose of opening up her heart again and drake's right there!! like she's been burned before kyle died and she couldn't save him and now she might be catching feelings for drake but he's going to die too and she can't do that again man she just did that and it hurt to much no she's gotta lock herself off from her emotions only to then have drake come in w the classic it's better to have loved and lost than to never loved at all and go on ahead and prove that statement right!! also i think they could be a very fun chaos couple i think paige would be totally up for any and all of drake's shenanigans and that would lend itself to a really fun dynamic <3

[marbleheavy]

Who needs Tinder when you have Romantic Literature

I have decided to start posting some stuff here too, maybe it will motivate me to write more. Anyways, this is moderately fluffy I’d say. It’s a mortal and college AU. Idk how to introduce this tbh, but please enjoy!

(Also, just throwing this out there because this blog is kinda new, I’m down to write requests too!)

Pairing: Solangelo 

Word Count: 3,197

Rated: Teen

You can also read this on AO3! 

Will knew she was coming before he saw her, he had heard the door slam and the unmistakable rapid steps. Whenever Charlotte had a new development with the boy in her Romantic Literature class, Will was always the first to know. He sighed, already prepared for the impending word vomit he was going to endure.

"Will!" Charlotte shouted.

Will turned around to smile at her. Don't get him wrong, he and Charlotte were friends, they chatted in class all the time, they studied together, they even sometimes went to parties together, but it was all very superficial. Charlotte had never met his boyfriend or any of his truly close friends, and he hadn't met hers. However, that didn't mean he was exempt from listening to her pine.

"Hey Charlotte," Will grinned, "What's up?"

Charlotte plopped down on the stool next to him and let out an exasperated sigh, "I can't handle it anymore, Will."

Will frowned, his eyebrows furrowing, "What?"

"I can't handle him anymore. He is so fucking pretty that I am going to lose my mind!"

"Charlotte, I'm sure that you'll be okay."

"No, you don't get it. Like he's hot, we knew that, but he is also so pretty. Like, Greek God pretty. It's truly unfair. I don't know how to handle myself," she ranted.

Will chuckled, shaking his head, "You know, you could always talk to him."

Charlotte looked appalled at the suggestion, "Oh no, absolutely not. I'm way too afraid, I've been basically stalking him all semester. Plus, there is no way someone that attractive doesn't have a girlfriend."

"Hey, you never know, maybe just test the waters, you could be surprised," Will said, trying to reassure her.

"Yeah, maybe, or maybe I will be rejected and I will have to drop out to save myself from further embarrassment. I will just pine from afar."

"You know, my boyfriend is in that class, I could ask him and see if he knows anything," Will offered.

Charlotte grinned at him, "Really? That would actually be great. By the way, what's your boyf-"

Charlotte was cut off by the professor entering and starting the lesson. Will glanced at Charlotte, but she waived him off, already dropping the question.

--- Will opened the door to their apartment and let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't a particularly difficult day, but Will hadn't slept much the night before. "Sunshine, you home?" Will called out.

Will heard a response from the kitchen, so he dropped his bag on the floor and kicked off his shoes, making his way into their kitchen.

"Hey darling," Will sighed as he walked up and wrapped his arms around Nico's waist, resting his head on his shoulder.

Nico smiled, tipping his head back to Will as he continued to stir whatever he was cooking on the stove. Will pecked his lips, not wanting to distract Nico, his hunger outweighed his desire to properly kiss him, which is a rare occurrence.

Nico hummed, "How was your day?"

"It was fine, I'm just worn out. Charlotte had another development with her Romantic Lit boy, it was all I heard about during our Chem lab. How about you?"

"Good, I only had the one class today so I spent a lot of time in the studio. Got a lot done, I should be ready for my showcase a few weeks in advance," Nico said.

Will grinned, "That's great! I can't wait to see it, I'm sure it will be incredible."

Nico scoffed, "Will, you've seen my stuff before, I wouldn't call it incredible."

"I disagree, you're only saying that because it's your work. I am, as always, a totally unbiased source who just happens to believe that my boyfriend's art is the best in the world, because it is."

Nico smiled, turning the stove off and moving to face Will. He looked at him, and reached for his face, "You're too nice to me."

Will leaned down, his forehead pressing against Nico's, "Oh darling, I can be way nicer."

Okay, so maybe Will wasn't actually that hungry.

---

Fridays were Will's favorite day. His only class of the day was his Chemistry Lab and that wasn't until noon, which meant that he could lay in bed with Nico until at least eleven. Nico had seemed particularly angelic that morning, with his hair splayed across Will's chest as he used him as a pillow. Maybe he was just extra appreciative because of all the discussion about gorgeous boys.

Having to drag himself from bed this morning was harder than normal, and as he sat at the lab table stool, he was still longing for Nico. He had just settled into his spot when Will heard his name from across the classroom and saw Charlotte walking towards their table. He smiled brightly at her and moved his bag to make space.

"Hey, Will! Did you ask your boyfriend about the Romantic Lit guy?"

"What? Oh! Um, no, I'm sorry, I-" Will paused, blushing brightly, "I got distracted. But I will ask after class today and text you."

"Oh, okay. No worries, I was just wondering. The other day, we were discussing Walt Whitman's poetry, and oh my God, he's literally perfect. He is smart and well spoken, and he's so gorgeous. I seriously don't understand how he is allowed to exist on this planet," Charlotte lamented.

Will chuckled, “I understand, I genuinely cannot comprehend how my boyfriend is allowed to look the way that he does. The struggle of incomprehensible beauty is real.”

“Oh, speaking of! I really want to meet that boyfriend of yours, maybe he will tell me more about himself since you spill so little. My roommate and I are hosting a party this Saturday, you should come and bring him!” she exclaimed.

Will grinned widely at her, “Yeah! I just have to double check with him but that sounds great! I need to get him out of the apartment more anyways.”

“Perfect! Anyways, I had a question about the lab, I screwed up my balancing of the equations somewhere, was the product nitrogen oxide or nitrogen dioxide?"

Will and Charlotte worked throughout the class, working hard to finish the post-lab questions and the write-up, neither wanted to have to work on it over the weekend.

As class ended, they quickly collected any notebooks and papers and walked out of class, desperate for a break. As they stepped into the hallway, Will assured Charlotte he would check with his boyfriend about the part and the Lit boy, and Charlotte smiled brightly in response.

Will pushed open the door to the science building open and stepped into the fresh air. Spring was just starting and trees across campus were blooming, but he didn't stop to admire the beauty or appreciate the warmer weather as he walked briskly towards his apartment. He knew that Nico didn't have any classes today and wasn't planning to go to the studio, which meant it was more than likely he was still in bed and Will would be able to climb right back in and pretend he never left.

As he rushed up the stairs to their apartment and jammed his key in the door, he was already shedding off his bag, coat, and shoes. Normally, he is much more organized, but today he left his pile of things on the floor next to the door as he scurried to the bedroom. Just as he suspected, Nico was still curled up in bed, dozing lightly. Will heard a hum as he padded into the room and Nico stretched out towards him, silently reaching out to him. Will grinned and climbed into their bed, pulling Nico close to him. Nico quickly curled into Will's chest and sighed. The wave of peace that washed over Will was unexpected and he quickly fell asleep.

---

Waking up late in the afternoon, either because of a nap or some really extreme sleeping in, has never really been Will's thing but as he felt Nico tighten his grip on him and seemingly climb even more onto Will, he decided it was okay. No matter how they fell asleep, Will always woke up with Nico on top of him, not that he minded. Will stared at his boyfriend's face resting on his chest, studying the curve of his nose and the shape of his lips. It didn't really matter how long they've been together, he never got tired of looking at him. Will didn't notice Nico's eyes open so when he finally made eye contact, he jumped a little. Nico chuckled, pulling his head back slightly to look at Will.

"You're a dork," Nico said.

Will huffed, feigning offense, "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm cool. I'm a cool cat."

Nico smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Will's jaw lightly and mumbling into his neck, "No actual cool person has ever referred to themselves as a 'Cool Cat'."

"Well, there is a first for everything."

Nico sat up slightly, but not really. He was lying on top of Will so he wasn't ever really able to sit, but he shifted so he was straddling Will's hips, leaning down over him.

"How was class?" He asked as he leaned down to slowly kiss up Will's throat.

Will let out a breath, "Good, by the way, my friend Charlotte, I talked about her yesterday? Well, uh, she uh-" he stuttered as Nico began to bite lightly on his throat, "She's in your Romantic Lit class, um, and has a crush on this guy and she asked me, ugh, to ask you, uh, if you knew who he was? She said that he's super hot," Will stopped talking as Nico suddenly froze his movements.

Nico moved his head up to look at Will sharply "I'm clearly trying to get in your pants right now and you want to talk about other hot guys?"

Will grinned sheepishly, "No! No, no, I just, I don't want to forget! But I'll wait, yeah, I'll just wait. It's fine, but please, get in my pants."

Nico smirked at Will's excuse, but clearly he accepted it as he leaned back down to finally kiss Will on the lips properly. Will reciprocated immediately, moving his hands from Nico's thighs to grab his face. He hummed into Nico's mouth, biting lightly at his lips and Nico sighed. Nico's hands were on Will's shoulders to stabilize himself as Will began to kiss and suck along the edge of Nico's jaw.

"Tesoro," Nico moaned, leaning into Will's touch.

Will smiled through his kisses, nipping at his ear lobe and whispering, "Yes, darling?"

Nico groaned in frustration and grabbed at the hem of Will's shirt, tugging it off. Will stopped to look at Nico, his chest rising rapidly with his erratic breathing, his face flushed. Will always thought that Nico was pretty, but this was hard to beat. Nico, annoyed by the lack of kissing, quickly moved to reconnect their lips, tangling his fingers in Will's hair. He kissed Will, the kiss surely bruising their lips as he worked Will's mouth open. Will couldn't get enough of the feeling of Nico on top of him, of the feeling of Nico kissing him, it was overwhelming. Every time they did this, it was like the first time, except this time Will knew that if he put his hands near Nico's neck he would moan and if he traced his fingers along his torso he would sigh. His favorite part though, was when he would suck hickeys into his neck and Nico would whisper his name like it was the most divine word in the world. Will pulled his lips down Nico's throat and started biting lightly at his collarbones and pulse points.

"Will," Nico sighed, and Will smiled, there it was.

Just as Nico started to work his hands towards Will's belt, Nico' phone rang. Will pulled away and sat up, keeping Nico on his lap and watching as he reached over to grab his phone from the bedside table. Nico groaned as he saw the caller, "Will, I'm so sorry, but it's Hazel."

Nico answered the phone, greeting his sister, and Will dropped his head to rest on the crook of Nico's neck, still nibbling lightly.

Nico let out a squeak, pushing Will's head away lightly, "William," he scolded, "Stop that."

Will grinned at Nico, looking at him playfully as he heard Hazel chuckle over the phone. He leaned against the headboard as Nico talked to his sister about his gallery opening. When their conversation was finally done, Nico tossed the phone to the foot of the bed and wrapped his arms behind Will's head, "Now, where were we?"

Will smiled, "Sorry darling, I'm starving."

Nico rolled his eyes but climbed off of Will's lap and stood up, "You're such a cockblock."

Will laughed as he stood up too, "I'd say your sister is, so don't get mad at me."

"I can be mad at you all I want, first you talk about other guys and now you say you're 'too hungry'" Nico joked.

Will shoved his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen and toward the fridge. Nico hopped onto the counter, watching as Will searched for food. Will pulled out some leftover pasta and decided to microwave it, "So, that possible boy in your Romantic Literature class that Charlotte loves, do you know him?"

Nico shrugged, "I mean, maybe, I don't really pay attention to the other people in that class."

"Charlotte said that he was talking during your Walt Whitman discussion the other day," Will added.

Nico frowned, "I don't know, not many people participated that day, it was mostly me."

"Well, that's okay. I mean, I'm sure she will figure it out. Also, how do you feel about going to a party tomorrow night?" Will asked.

Nico nodded, "That's fine, but can we go separately? I was hoping to be in the studio tomorrow, and I don't want to make you wait for me."

"Yeah, of course, but I don't mind waiting for you, darling," Will reassured.

Nico smiled softly as Will walked to stand between his legs against the counter, "I know, but you don't get to go out often, and I'm not sure how long I'll be."

Will bent down and kissed Nico softly, resting his forehead against Nico's, "I love you."

"I love you too, Tesoro."

-----

Will had been at the party for about 30 minutes when he finally saw Charlotte. He waived at her as he walked up, and she grinned at him.

"Will! I'm so glad you came! Where is that boy of yours?" Charlotte exclaimed.

"He's on his way, he had some work to do before he could come. Also, he has no idea who your Romantic Lit boy is, sorry," Will said, shouting slightly so she could hear him over the music.

"That's okay! I'm hoping he will come tonight, we invited a ton of people and I'm hoping word got around to him," she explained.

Will smiled and continued to chat with her, sipping at his drink every so often. He knows in the back of his mind that Nico should be there soon and he should keep an eye out, but he figured it would be fine. Charlotte suddenly grabbed his arm, and grinned wildly at him.

"Will! He's here! I'm so excited, look," she whispered excitedly.

Will turned his head around and searched the crowd, he didn't see anybody who could be her Lit boy, but he did see Nico approaching and smiled at him, their eyes meeting. Will noticed Nico's shirt, it was Will's favorite button up with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He liked seeing Nico in his clothes, it gave him a rush of pride.

"Will! He's so cute! And the rolled up dress shirt thing is so hot!" Charlotte said.

Will whipped his head toward Charlotte, confusion etched in his features. Suddenly it hit him. Oh. Oh no.

"Oh my God, Charlotte wait, no-" he started.

It was too late, Nico had already made it all the way over to them and he smiled brightly, his stupid, charming smile. Will felt Charlotte drop her grip on his arm and adjust her shirt.

"Hi! I'm so glad you could come!" Charlotte said, her tone shifting to something far more flirty.

Nico seemed a little shocked by her, "Oh, yeah. Hi. Thanks for inviting us."

Charlotte's brows furrowed, "Us?" she started.

"Hey Tesoro, how was your day?" Nico asked Will, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers.

Charlotte's head flicked between Nico and Will.

Will could feel heat rising in his neck as he looked at Charlotte, "Um, it was good. So Charlotte, this is my boyfriend, Nico. Nico, this is Charlotte."

Charlotte was frozen, staring at Will widely as he panicked, terrified that she would freak out. Instead, she finished the rest of her drink in one gulp and then laughed.

"Oh! Really? That's hilarious! We really do have the exact same type!" She said, giggling.

Will seemed a little shocked, he was unsure if this was real or if she was about to start crying.

"Um, what?" Nico asked.

Will, without taking his eyes off Charlotte who was still laughing, explained "So, you know how I was telling you how Charlotte has a giant crush on a boy in her Romantic Literature that you are also in? Well, that boy is you."

Nico looked quickly at Charlotte, "Oh, um, sorry. You're really nice and smart but I'm super gay and very much dating Will."

Charlotte shook her head, "No, really it's fine! I'm just shocked this miscommunication lasted so long! I'm happy for you! You're gorgeous by the way, like truly, ten out of ten. Will, you caught a great one."

Will was still off balance by Charlotte's reaction and her lack of anger or sadness.

"Are you," Will paused, "okay? Do you want us to leave?"

"God no! Really Will, I'm okay. It was just a crush. And I know how you talk about your boyfriend, I would never try and interfere with that," Charlotte reassured, "But, I'm gonna go get another drink. Please stay, though."

Charlotte walked away and Nico turned towards Will. Will looked down at him and smiled lightly, but he still seemed like a deer caught in headlights. Nico grabbed Will's face, "Are you okay?" Nico asked.

Will nodded, "Yeah, this is all just crazy. I've been listening to her talk about that boy for months and turns out that it's you! I'm just not really sure what to do."

"Well, start by taking a deep breath," Nico said, "And then you can start repeating all the things you said about me to Charlotte that made her just laugh about this."

Will seemed to relax even though his cheeks turned bright red, "Hmm, I don't know. Maybe I won't."

Nico grabbed Will's wrist and sorted dragging him to the nearest closet or bathroom or bedroom, "No sir, you owe me for cockblocking me earlier."

Will laughed, "I didn't cockblock, it was an IOU."

Nico smirked, "Well I'd like to cash that in now please."

[the-archxr]

Can You Feel the Love Tonight? || S.H.

steve harrington x henderson!reader

Summary: Dustin, Steve and Robin have a good dynamic. It’s been that way for a while now. But now that you’re involved, well, let’s just say Dustin doesn’t quite know how to deal with that.

A/N: Okay so I know that the Lion King didn’t come out until ‘94, meaning the song Elton John released didn’t come out until then, however I was heavily inspired by rewatching the original Lion King and just recently watching the new Lion King (which I absolutely loved and cried majorly, by the way). This fic is based off of the version in the (1994 + 2019) movie and that whole dynamic because I’m Stranger Things and Disney trash. I highly recommend listening to either version of the song while reading this or prior cause idk it kind of put me in the romantic, wistful mood. Be prepared (hehe) cause this is some fluffy shit. Also I busted this out in a day, so here you are, babes x

Warnings: flustered Steve?? Jealous Dustin?? That’s pretty much it though

Song Inspo: Can You Feel the Love Tonight (The Lion King Soundtrack and Elton John)

•••••

“Unbelievable.” Dustin scoffs. “Un-fucking-believable!”

“Hey language, shitbird!” Robin scorns him from the driver’s seat.

“Sorry—I’m sorry, just...” The boy adjusts himself as best as possible to peer even more over the dash of Robin’s car. “Can you believe this?”

Dustin’s voice goes up a few octaves as he turns a crazed eye to his friend. Robin simply stares back at him with a rather disinterested expression.

It isn’t until Dustin let’s out another scoff and overly dramatic roll of his eyes that they stop staring at each other. But then again, Robin knew he wouldn’t be able to resist staring at their two friends in the restaurant for long.

Robin takes note of Dustin’s face, and she can’t help but shake her head in amusement. It was a nice evening, families and couples were walking around or into the diner that they were parked only a stones throw away from. Outside of her car, the atmosphere was gentle and calm, but inside the car, it was intense, humourous (on her side) and frustrating.

The stark difference in environments only added to Dustin’s annoyance and tension that she was sure would boil over soon like heated milk.

Dustin yanks the binoculars off of his neck and raises them in front of his eyes as he fiddles around with the eye pieces. “I mean...she literally just got back!” She literally just got back and now her and Steve are having fun. Without him.

She doesn’t even know him that well.

“Yeah, like a week ago.” Robin intervenes.

“Still!”

Robin looks over at her friend and rolls her eyes, beginning to play with the stereo in an attempt to relieve herself of boredom. “Why can’t we just go home, kid? I mean, they’re not hurting anyone.”

“Yes, they are!” Dustin had enunciated every syllable in pursuit of communicating to his friend that this whole situation, ultimately, was a mistake. “Robin, she’s literally ruining our entire dynamic!”

Robin leans back into the squeaky old seat even more, turning her gaze to the tacky carpeted roof of her tacky car. “She’s your sister, dude. Take a chill pill... I mean, aren’t you happy she’s back?” Robin finally turns to her comrade, still lying back however to broadcast to the kid that she was tired and didn’t care about the date occurring before them.

Dustin sighs and places his two fingers on the bridge of his nose. “Of course I am, Robin but like—seriously?!”

Robin notes that the almost-teenagers attention span runs shorter than that of a goldfish. But she humours him anyway and turns to what Dustin continues to be spastic about.

Dustin makes the scene before them out to be like a traumatic, vomit-inducing nightmare. If anything, however, the scene before the pair is actually kind of nice. Romantic, even.

And even with Robin pointing that out to him, Dustin continues to determine the display of affections as traumatic and vomit-inducing.

When Y/N came home from New York last week, the first thing Dustin did was take her to the video store where he wanted to join up his three favourite people in friendship. Because that’s as far as it was supposed to go.

He wanted Y/N to be friends with Robin and Steve, but not to be super close. Afterall, they were his friends. The three of them were a trio long before Y/N even mentioned coming home. The state of elite hierarchy among their group of friends was supposed to always be there with them. Not her.

It was Steve, Robin and himself that hung out on Friday nights and watched cheesy horror films. It was the three of them that went out for milkshakes. It was the three of them that went to the arcade.

But ever since he excitedly introduced his sister to Steve it was all of a sudden Y/N this and Steve that. Steve would always ask about Y/N, and Y/N would always ask about Steve. And, to top it all off, they even used the same tactic of hiding their rampant questions with the idea of it being meaningless curiosity.

They’re both idiots. But they’re idiots that should’ve always stayed fifty feet apart. 

At first, the consistent inquiries were found to be harmless by Dustin. Yes, they were a little annoying. But harmless.

Everything was perfectly fine.

Until yesterday, when Steve Harrington (Dustin’s supposedly loyal mentor, advisor and comrade) asked his sister—Y/N Henderson out to dinner right in front of Dustin’s face.

To say Dustin was furious would be an understatement.

So, Dustin Henderson felt he had to do what he does best. Investigate. (With the intent of destroying.)

Thus, the situation Robin and Dustin are currently in.

Robin ultimately tried to decide against being there. Afterall, the dingus had actually gotten a point on the “you rule” side; and even though Steve’s flirting hasn’t improved, Y/N and him do seem to really like each other. For once, Steve “the Hair” Harrington wasn’t being an idiot. And (even though she’d never admit it) she was actually excited for both of them.

But Dustin wasn’t.

Dustin wasn’t at all.

Although Robin had desperately tried to convince her child friend not to do anything to compromise Steve and Y/N’s situation and to let the two have their space, Dustin still showed up on her doorstep with binoculars and a backpack muttering something along the lines of spycraft.

After mauling through her thoughts for a few moments Robin perked up. “Dustin,” she began.

The boy let the binoculars he had been gripping so tightly fall aimlessly against his chest. And although Dustin’s head was turned to Robin’s in complete annoyance, he was still listening.

For the first time that evening Dustin was actually paying attention to her, so Robin knew she had to make this quick. Thankfully though, Robin decided to actually refer to the boy by his name and not some random thing she came up with on the spot that may or may not have been mildly insulting. Rarely did she use his actual name, so when she did he knew he had to listen because she was being serious.

“I want to know, and you have to be completely honest with me...” He doesn’t nod, but he raises his eyebrows, which is enough of a response for her. Robin readjusts herself in the seat (although there isn’t much room to do that). “Why are you so against...that?” Robin waves her hand in front of her, signaling to the two smiling people tucked away in a corner booth.

Dustin pauses, and, for a moment feels as though he’s about to break. As he takes a glimpse at the setting sun and the soft glow exuding from the diners large windows—the windows that delicately outline the countless people who are smiling and genuinely having fun—Dustin does feel the slightest inkling of guilt about his position. But more importantly, he feels out of place. He feels a bit embarrassed and he knows that—

No!

That’s not why he’s here.

He’s here because they shouldn’t be here.

With a quick moment of rememberance for his previous intentions and the point of this operation Dustin ignores Robin’s statement and picks up the binoculars, zooming in on his target.

However his mind can’t help but register what Robin had said, and oddly he feels offended. Disasters in the air and Dustin wonders as to how Robin can’t possibly comprehend that.

She’s supposed to be on his side. Not theirs.

The binoculars he had picked up only a moment ago were once again let go of so he could start making wild gestures at Robin. “How can you not be against it?!”

“It’s sweet—“

“It’s bullshit.” Dustin’s body is now slightly leaning over the centre console as he stares Robin dead in her eyes. “Can’t you see what’s happening, Robin?”

Robin (being the literal smartass she is) responds. “Yeah, it’s two people who are attracted to each other enjoying a nice dinner.”

Dustin groans and roughly drags his hand down his face. He then slaps his hand on the dashboard. “Yeah, but guess what?! One date leads to two dates. Two dates leads to three. And eventually the more dates they have the more official they will become. Then they’ll start calling each honey and sweetie, and then they’ll move in together and then they’re gonna’ get married and have a shit ton of babies and I’ll be alone.”

Robin’s eyes widen at the knowledge of the boys confession. However, she isn’t sure he fully realizes what he confessed to because Dustin continues with his animated rant.

He feels the tone of his voice go down respectively, but not so much so that it disregards his conclusion. “The bottom line, Robin, is that they’ll fall in love, and our trio is down to two. Dos, Robin. Dos people. You. And me.” He jabs at the air between them. “And all of this bullshit will happen while Steven over there swaps spit with my sister.”

Robin laughs heartily at the words that leave Dustin’s mouth.

He turns to her in shock, mouth slightly open, and eyes squinted. He feels his baseball cap ever so slightly shifting lower on his head but quite frankly he doesn’t care about that at the moment.

“You think this is funny.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but it is just as aggressive with the same amount of frustration laced within the inflection of his voice.

Robin cackles and leans backward in her seat. Her seat squeaks again, therefore making Robin laugh even harder. The whole situation—she finds—is just too trippy and she knows it probably looks absolutely ridiculous.

Dustin shakes his head and crosses his arms in exasperation. He doesn’t understand why Robin is dying of laughter when there is a very prevalent and extreme issue at hand.

He snaps his head forward, his jaw and arms tightening in unison. His gaze travels up to the rear view mirror and he pauses...

Only for a moment though because he’s take a proper look at himself and he even admits he looks kind of funny. What with the huge pout gracing his mouth, his curly hair falling in his face and his arms crossed over his body so tight he just might cut off circulation.

But he won’t let anything distract him now. Not when—

“Shit!” He hurls up out of his seat and bangs his head on the roof of the car. His hand goes to the top of his head quickly, but it immediately retreats because oh my god, that cannot he happening!

“Hey, hey, watch the car!” Robin yells jokingly. She’s stopped giggling but she can feel the tight pressure in her cheeks and stomach from laughing. Robin lolls her head back, attempting to alleviate her giggly nature and get back on track.

Except she’s so focused on calming herself down that she doesn’t even notice that Dustin has opened the car door and has started walking towards the restaurant.

But when she does see him stomping in front of her car, his fists clenched, with the image of Y/N and Steve laughing, splitting a milkshake like the two cliche idiots they are, she lunges out of her seat, slams the door shut and runs after the fourteen year old.

He certainly walks fast, but she’s faster and thank god she is, because Dustin’s fingers are already wrapped around the silver handle.

Robin yanks Dustin by the collar of his vest and pulls him to the side, away from Steve and Y/N’s line of sight.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dustin whispers angrily.

“Saving your ass!” She whispers back. She inhales deeply and smiles awkwardly at an older man that walked by them, eyeing the two strangely. She turned her attention back to Dustin, a softer look on her face. “Leave them be, Henderson.”

“No! I can’t let them—they can’t...” He runs out of breath and stops short when he sees himself in the glass window.

His reflection obstructs his perception of himself for a moment. And soon he’s actually studying himself. But...more importantly, he can see Steve and Y/N more clearly now. The two of them are in the furthest corner—the quietest and most reclusive part of the diner. He watches them sadly.

And then Steve’s arms are flailing everywhere. He’s telling Y/N a story; a funny one at that because she’s laughing hysterically. Dustin recognizes the way his sister tries to hide her loud cackles. She looks...happy. Genuinely happy. And so does Steve. And Dustin can’t help but see how good they look together.

His smile is faint until he looks at his reflection once again.

He looks like shit. There’s bags under his eyes; and as light as they were, they’re still there. He notices how tense and restrictive his body looks, provoking him to try and loosen up.

It’s hard.

But it isn’t even his fault.

It’s Steve Harrington and Y/N Henderson’s fault.

“It’s their fault!” He yells out loud suddenly. He feels defensive. He’s upset. Not even mad, just simply...upset. And he’s taking it out on Robin. Wow. What kind of friend is he? “It’s their fault because they just had to...you know...they just had to!”

“Had to what, Henderson?” Robin asks calmly.

She frowns slightly because her friend is clearly troubled by the notion of being left alone by not only his best friend and mentor, but by his sister too. She’s moved a little closer to him by now; her hand only gracing his forearm. She’s not used to showing sympathy (she’s never really been in a situation where she had to) so she hopes that this is enough.

“They had to go and—and...give in to that—that dumb sexual electricity bullshit.”

Robin sighs and tucks a few strands of hair behind her ears. The two of them are standing there completely still. The initial anger and frustration has died down and Robin can no longer feel the tension radiate off of her child friend. With a shaky huff he shies away from her hand and slumps against the side of the brick building, jaggedly sliding down to the ground.

“It’s just...everything’s...changing. Everything’s changing and this is just the universe trying to prove it to me.” Dustin wipes at the sudden wet streaks that line his cheeks. He didn’t even notice that he began crying, but it’s too late to hide it from Robin because she’s already sitting beside him, giving him her most sympathetic look manageable.

“Hey...” She nudges his foot with hers. “It sucks...I know. I felt the same way when I was your age, you know? Everything just changes around you, and it sucks ‘cause you can’t control it at all. You can’t slow it down or speed it up. It just...happens.”

She places her hand on Dustin’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “But it gets better in the end.” He nods slowly and softly. “Look dingus, Steve, Y/N, you and I are still gonna’ be the best of friends. We just...won’t be the three musketeers.” She looks at Dustin and the stains on his cheeks.

“Hey, you know what? We’ll be something even cooler! You can decide what our group name is, yeah?” She punches him softly in the arm.

Dustin sniffles but attempts a smile. “We’re still a team, Dustin... There just happens to be a new person. The groups larger now and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Even if you don’t like it now, train yourself to, because Harrington, he’s—he’s a good guy you know, and he really likes your sister. A lot. And I hate to be the one to break it to you kid, and I know it’s hard for you to understand, but...whatever’s goin’ on in there...” Robin tilts her head towards the door. “That’s not our decision. That’s theirs.”

Dustin smiles weakly. The two sit in silence for a few seconds. Then Dustin wipes at his nose, and sniffs. He takes a deep breath. “At least...it’s not...the worst decision.” Robin smiles with a slight shake of her head.

“See? Just look on the bright side of things.”

“She likes him a lot, too, you know. I read it in her diary. She thinks he has a cute butt and nice hair.” Robin laughs and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

The pair stand up and Robin guides them back to her car. “What do you say we go for ice cream, yeah? Kinda’ cool down. Relax a little.”

“Yeah, that—that sounds like a good idea.”

•••••

It was a beautiful night. The breeze that carried itself through Hawkins wasn’t too warm but wasn’t too cold either. The sun was in the midst of setting; the sky in transition between indigo and pale pink.

The sounds of crickets were melodic and delicate, and for once in your life they didn’t seem annoying. The lightning bugs that usually stay pretty dormant along in the bushes on the backroads were out in full force tonight; shining in all of their tiny glory.

The music from Steve’s stereo was soft. Loud enough to hear, but quiet enough to set a mood.

You felt like a child; giddy and weightless.

For some odd, inexplicable reason, the world tonight just seemed to work. You couldn’t tell if it was just sheer dumb luck, or if it was because what was happening between you and the boy next to you was meant to happen. Regardless of whatever higher power was working tonight, something out there seemed to understand. The universe around you seemed to understand.

The evening was peaceful, the atmosphere in Steve’s car was romantic and you’re positive that with all of this serenity, the world, and all of its living things couldn’t help but be in perfect harmony.

Bryan Adams voice gently moved in the space of Steve’s car. You could hear Steve begin to sing along and you felt your heart gently convulse with the butterflies in your stomach.

You look at him through the corner of your eye and you swear he isn’t real.

Honestly, how could someone who looks like that and is like that exist?

His soft brown eyes are focused on the road and you’re reminded of the fact that those eyes were staring at you all night. Steve is just so...beautiful. It’s simply unreal.

Your smiling like an idiot as you study him. You can feel it. You feel just as light and soft as the way his hair looks as it sways in the wind.

“Someone’s smiley.” Steve commented. You’re eyes widen as you snap back to reality. Your face grows hot. Your heartrate increases. Steve just caught you staring at him like a creep and you realize you couldn’t be anymore pathetic. But the second you see the curl of his lips and his eyes begin to smile at you, every negative thought you’ve had about whether or not you looked good enough tonight dissipated.

He’s an ethereal creature. And he’s looking at you the same way. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars and moon in the sky and you can’t think of anything else other than just kissing him. The only thing your body seems to know what to do though is smile.

But thats fine because Steve opens his mouth to speak, and you can feel yourself get lost in the tender tone of his words. “It’s okay, you know. I—I don’t mind.”

You laugh softly and make a measly attempt to cover your deepening blush with the sleeve of your sweater.

You somehow force yourself to look away and try to compose what little resolve you have left. But you’re still smiling.

And Steve from across the car is still smiling as well.

As you watch the brush fly past you, an unfamiliar warmth graces your fingertips that rest on the console.

Your head turns rather quickly to see what has just touched you and you come face-to-face with Steve’s red cheeks as his hand rests millimeters away from yours. “Can I—um...am—am I...allowed to, uh, h—hold your hand? Maybe?” Steve’s looking at you softly. You can’t function, so you don’t automatically respond. He turns to look at the dark road before him. The only place his eyes can be truly safe without giving all of his secrets away. “If you don’t want to that’s fine. That’s—that’s completely...fine. I—I don’t want to pressu—”

“Steve...” you whisper. You’re shocked that you can even speak because it honestly feels like you’re permanently breathless. You look directly in his eyes and relax your hand as your fingertips glide gently over his knuckles.

You feel his hand begin to shake slightly which calms down your nerves because he’s just as scared as you are.

There’s a reassuring feeling that sets itself within the cavity in your chest as your fingers intertwine with his. It’s a slow act; one that you both don’t want to jump into directly in fear of screwing it up. But in the end it works and it just feels so right and so magical.

You swear you have never felt this way in your entire life.

Steve’s hand feels exactly how you had imagined it countless times in the past couple of days.

Soft; pure; and breathtaking.

He feels the same way.

•••••

Steve pulls up in your driveway slowly. He doesn’t have to, but the closer to your house he gets, the closer you are to leaving and he’s not sure he’s prepared for that all.

The porch light is on and so is the living room light; confirming that Dustin has not yet went to bed.

Shit.

You frown as you suddenly try to figure out how you’re going to talk to him and what you’ll say. You knew he wasn’t too happy with the prospect of the date between you and Steve—he made that evidently clear. And you’d never admit it to him but it really hurt you a lot to know that you were hurting him. You thought he’d be overjoyed with the news but instead he became distant and moody.

But Steve had assured you that he’d talk to Dustin and the three of you would work it out. And from what you’ve seen of the close friendship between Dustin and Steve you knew if anyone could get through to your little brother, it was your date.

Steve opened the door for you and closed it once you got out.

You smoothed out your sweater (although there was nothing wrong with it) and you let your arms hang awkwardly at your sides. Whereas Steve shoved his one hand into the pocket of his jacket, and with the other one he hesitantly reached towards your hand that dangled outside of the sleeve of the thin white fabric. 

He was nervous... Really fucking nervous.

But the way you easily accepted the embrace of his fingers made Steve feel as though he might pass out.

His heart felt like it was going to explode, and the fact that he damned himself by looking over to you smiling in the faint light emanating from the window...

God. He was an idiot. But...the thought that you might want him just as bad as he wants you; and that maybe one day, he gets to be your idiot made him weak in the knees.

Something he never thought could happen.

You looked even softer and prettier than you did earlier in the evening; which pained Steve because first of all, how could someone become increasingly more beautiful the more he looked at them; and how could he restrain himself from just holding your face and kissing you until the both of you could no longer breath?

“Well, this is me.” You say out loud, and curse yourself afterward because god, you sound so stupid.

“This is you.” Steve replies, sounding equally as stupid.

But, regardless of whether or not the both of you can talk doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re smiling at him with a sense of warmth and what he hopes is adoration. The realization that yes, for once he isn’t a screw up and he is finally going to get the girl causes him to shuffle closer to you.

The tips of your shoes are touching his and the butterflies begin erupting again because the act itself is small, yet whole-heartedly adorable.

Steve then takes his other hand and links it with yours. You try to hide the way your body is reacting to Steve holding both of your hands so intimately; but it’s proving itself to become increasingly more difficult when suddenly the two of you are inches away from each other. His warm breath fans over your face and you notice that all you have to do is just move your head forward a little more before you’re actually kissing him.

“I had a really good time tonight, Stevie.” He chuckles lightly at the use of his new nickname.

Coming from anyone else it would’ve sounded stupid, but since it’s coming from you, Steve feels as though he’s floating.

It isn’t a special nickname, but it feels similar to one because now it rests within him as a placeholder. You said it, and only you can say it from this moment on.

The feeling that he gets when you say, “Stevie” ignites a livid presence of emotion deep in his psyche.

“Me too.”

He’s falling. Hard.

And it’s becoming really fucking challenging because you are looking very beautiful. And you’re smiling at him. All wistful and delicate.

The lip gloss you had on refracts the light beside you lightly, enough to make your lips (the part of you that he’d been staring at for pretty much the entire night now) shine and stand out to him.

Oh, yeah.

He’s definitely falling.

“Are you two just going to stand there, or are you gonna’ get in the house already?” Dustin is standing in the open doorway, one hand on the door handle and the other on his hip.

He seems annoyed, which brings down your spirits a little.

Steve is attentive and picks up on your sadness. He frowns slightly, but tries to disguise it because he doesn’t want to make you anymore upset. Although the boy really, really wants to kiss you goodnight, he respects you and Dustin. He decides against it. For now, at least.

You let go of Steve’s hands, still smiling softly at him as you slowly step through the threshold of your house. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“‘Night, Y/N.” He replies with a soft grin.

You walk out of his line of sight, but you don’t leave. Instead, you quickly bound over to your couch, claw your way to the window and peel the edge of the white lace curtain away from the glass that you’re choosing to peek through. You stare at the boy who looks so gorgeous in the soft early moonlight that you swoon three times over.

The door closes, and you see Dustin (surprisingly) walking Steve to his car.

You watch the situation closely. It is as unintentionally comedic to you as it is nerve-wracking.

“Did you have fun?” Dustin asks Steve. Dustin is admittedly shocked when Steve looks him directly in the eye. Before the date, when Steve picked Y/N up, the poor boy wasn’t even able to meet Dustin’s gaze.

The date however went better than expected, and now that Steve knows he wants you (and he’s positive you want him back), he’s got all the confidence in the world prompting him to be willing to do anything. Steve smiles at his younger friend gently.

“Yeah. Yeah, I really did, Henderson.” Steve nods.

Dustin leans against the hood of the familiar BMW beside his best friend. He looks up at the older boy, the boy he had been looking up to for a good year now and he can see that Steve’s smiling more than he’s smiled in awhile.

A fragile breeze rolls by the two of them. The sun has officially gone down, making the ambient light around the two friends a pale gray and blue. Dustin can hear the recognizable cicadas humming all around. The empty night makes their sound even louder and more prominent, slightly knocking off the awkward edge between him and Steve.

Steve stirs making Dustin turn to him. He runs a hand quickly through his hair (a habit Dustin has noticed occurs a lot). Somehow, Steve’s dark hair bounces back in its original place without any effort at all.

“My sisters one hell of a girl, Harrington.” Dustin speaks up. Steve slightly moves his head to the side; enough so that he can see the knowing stare that his younger friend has painted on his face.

Steve nods shyly. “She definitely is.” Just mentioning you forces a smile on Steve’s features. He truly cannot control himself when around you.

And Dustin picks up on this. Steve’s really trying. You’re really trying. And maybe (Dustin figures) he can be a bit more lenient with the two of you.

The nights really doing something to him.

There are a few quiet moments that stretch by between the two boys. It isn’t awkward anymore, but it is filled with Dustin’s excessive pondering thoughts. His heads so full of them he feels like screaming in defeat into the quiet, dark night.

“Do you like her?”

Steve looks down at him. He’s not sure if Dustin stopped eyeing him up and down at one point; but this time around his friends face is softer. There’s something there, something hopeful. Something Steve hopes is forgiveness and acceptance.

“I really do.” Steve admits shyly.

He already knew that. Of course he knew Steve liked you. He made it blatantly obvious since day one.

Dustin sits comfortably in his own silence for a moment. Steve sits uncomfortably on the edge of anticipation and worry. There’s nothing silent about Steve’s thoughts at all.

“Well then...” Dustin begins. “The next time you see each other you better kiss her, alright?”

Dustin watches Steve cough and his eyes widen comically. He knows Steve is in complete shock, but Dustin soon grins, evoking a smile from his older friend.

“Just not in front of me though, alright? Or else I’ll kick your ass, Harrington.”

For once Steve’s mind is silent...

Until he mutters one word that carries itself with the wind. “Okay.”

Dustin nods once and reaches his hand out.

Steve smiles widely. He knows exactly what that means; it’s a sign of peace and a sign of approval.

Steve wraps his hand around Dustin’s and he quickly lets go signaling for the young boy to follow through with their infamous handshake. The two boys finish with partially silent lightsaber sounds that quickly escalate into booming, hearty laughter. Laughter so loud, even the night before them wasn’t ready for it.

“I still want you to pick me up tomorrow so we can go to the arcade.” Dustin jabs a finger at Steve teasingly. He pokes Steve in the centre of his chest causing the fluffy haired boy to swat away his finger. “Ten o’clock. Sharp. Better be on time, loverboy.”

“Yeah, yeah; I will... Thank you.” Steve finishes sincerely.

Dustin nods stoically, then turns to the window and sees your silhouette. You’re smiling at the two of them through the glass; the orange light behind forging a halo around your head. He suddenly grins and laughs gently.

Out of nowhere, Dustin’s arms wrap around Steve’s middle, and the older teen can’t help but hug him back with as much force.

He’s so goddamn happy.

As you watched the headlights of the familiar BMW drift off into the road, slowly bleeding and disappearing into the blue and gray hues of the forest and streets around your house, Dustin enters the house with a smile.

You turn to him expectantly. Your eyebrows are quirked up and your soft pink lip is tucked slightly beneath your teeth.

Dustin shakes his head with a soft sigh. “You two are gonna’ be the death of me, you know that right?”

Watching your face turn up into the biggest grin makes him smile equally as wide. He walks over to you quickly as you stand up and you tuck his head beneath yours.

You embrace your little brother tightly and earnestly. You place a delicate kiss to the top of the mess of curls on his head and he hugs you with even more strength.

Even with all of the nights uncertainties, somehow the world and all its living things, for once, truly did come together in perfect harmony.

[interstellarflowers]

i want you to know | peter parker x reader | chapter one

a/n ok, so this is part one, hope you like it, just a quick disclaimer this deals with some stuff could be a little triggering to some as this series is honestly kind of a slight reflection of some stuff thats happening right now to me sorry like i said though i like to try to harness bad stuff into something productive idk hope you guys like this im so sorry the pronouns aren’t gender neutral shoot me an ask and i can post one with he/him or they/them pronouns too if you’d like

t/w self-destructive tendencies and cursing

a/n part two idk how tf marvel figures age and stuff worked with the snap and whatever so im just going to ignore it too and endgame spoilers ahead also it’s going to seem like there’s a continuity error but i promise it’s not haha, im compelled to believe that the internet people may still refer to pepper as pepper potts sometimes whereas peter has respect and will refer to her as mrs.stark, because she is

i want you to know | chapter one: vast

chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | masterlist

“(y/n),” Peter looks at you in desperation, “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Please,” You turn back to Peter, “Just leave me alone.”

Peter Parker, years of training together, years of being a team, years of fighting together, trying your best to save everyone...Sometimes trying your best isn’t enough.

How did you end up like this? Why couldn’t you just control yourself? It was your body. It was your mind. It was yours, so why couldn’t you control it? Why did it hate Peter Parker so badly, when you were trying so hard not to. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Peter and feel the same way you used to.

So here you were again, sitting on the edge of the tower, lost. The city was really beautiful at night, well, tragically beautiful. The lights and buildings stood tall in all of their glory, yet the Stark Tower towered above the rest. You could see the tops of all of these extravagant manmade wonders. It made you feel so tall, yet at the same time as if you must be the smallest person in the universe. You looked out into the vast city of many people, and couldn’t help but feel so alone. The buildings were large and were something to be marveled at, all of the lights were wonderous, yet all of these blinding lights blur out the stars. Tragically beautiful.

Being a Stark wasn’t what it was all cracked up to be. Sure, the magazines and media told a story. They told a compelling story. The 21 Questions Interview with Vogue showed an extravagant life and lifestyle, a big house, cutting edge technology, the glory of a superhero, the glory of her Father to ride the coattails of. Seventeen Magazine painted the picture of parties, fame, attractive people...What they failed to notice was the emptiness of the house, how pain and trauma stained every wall. They didn’t mention how the only warmth in computers was their processor. They didn’t tell of the cost that came with being a superhero. There was nothing super about it. How could your life be a party when you were too busy fighting with every drop of life you had in you to protect an entire universe? Sure, there was fame and fortune. Of course, there was, but at what expense?

When your Dad died the internet blew up. You couldn’t escape it, he was everywhere. The curse of fame and fortune was that everybody was aware of it.

“She’ll be fine, she still has Daddy’s money.”

“Lucky, she gets the whole company.”

“Bet you she’s waiting for Potts to drop dead now.”

It was everywhere. Given, it wasn’t everyone, but nobody could ever come to have a complete understanding, they were too blinded. You weren’t a Kardashian, you were a Stark. You weren’t known because you thought you held the universe, you were known because the responsibility of holding an entire universe was thrust upon you.

You didn’t care about the Stark Industries, you didn’t care about the money, you never did. You cared about the man behind it all. The world saw billionaire, playboy, genius, philanthropist. Then they saw a hero, the savior. He was always your hero. The world suffered a great loss, but they didn’t lose their Dad.

Then there was Peter Parker. Peter Parker, high school student with mutant powers, this was easier for people to comprehend, easier to pity. You never cared, it never mattered you just knew he was your partner in crime. You just knew that he was your best friend. Until your Dad died, and Peter was put on a pedestal. It never truly hit you until you saw Peter with a certain pair of sunglasses. You could never let go of that day.

“Where did you get those?” Peter stopped in his tracks and gave you a sad smile,

“Mr.Stark,” Peter took them off and looked at them before putting them back where they were perched on his head, “I thought you knew-I, it was in his will.”

“Oh,” you looked down at your hands, and you knew you shouldn’t but you felt your body tense up and your stomach felt like something vile as you thought of the nondescript cube that your Dad had left for you. It was just something he had on his desk all of the time. You used to play with it all the time when you were a toddler, always snatching it off his desk until he took it away from you and replaced it with a toy car or doll much to your toddler self’s disappointment. Of course, it meant something to you, it was from him, it was his. It just hurt to see him give something with such a great attachment to him to Peter...Peter his trainee, not his daughter.

“Hey, (y/n),” Peter stepped closer to you, “Are you alright? Hey, I know it’s been hard...Are we still doing something later? I could really use the distrac-”

“I’m fine.” You turned on your heel and muttered something about being busy later before retreating to your room.

You wished that that was the last time you would ever feel like that. You wished that you could just bring yourself to be grateful that Peter was back, but you couldn’t, not when he was everywhere. Everyone saying how he was going to be the next Iron Man, and how he was going to be the next Tony Stark. You knew it wasn’t his fault, but it hurt so fucking bad. You hated it. How could people praise your Father the way that they did, and then replace him so quickly? There was no next Tony Stark. There was no new Iron Man. Only Tony Stark was Tony Stark. Only Iron Man was Iron Man. He was irreplaceable, why couldn’t they see that? How could they disregard you and Morgan so quickly?

“Let’s go inside (y/n),” Peter called you again, he didn’t know how to listen, did he?

You didn’t respond.

“(y/n), please,” Peter has this worn out expression on his face, he’s tired, he’s burnt out, “It’s late.”

You turn to face him,

“Then go home, Parker.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Mrs.Stark is worried.”

“...I know.”

“If you know she’s worried then why don’t you come with me?” Peter moves closer and takes a seat next to you. An uninvited guest.

“Don’t you have someone at home Parker?”

“Aunt May?” Peter chuckles a little, taking off his mask and scratching the back of his head, “Oh, she’s alright, she’s got Happy.”

“Nearly forgot about that.”

“Lucky.” Peter looked over at you and laughed, “Wish I forgot.” You shrug,

“It’s good to know that someone’s happy.”

“Happy? Happy? Get it?” You didn’t laugh. Peter’s face faded into a frown and he looked down at the city, “I miss him too, y’ know…”

“I know you do Peter.”

Your heart ached. It ached for your Dad. Peter knew him, but Peter didn’t lose a Dad, not this time. You lost your Dad. No matter how much people perceived Peter as Tony Stark’s honorary son, it didn’t change that Tony Stark had a kid far before Peter. It didn’t change that he was your Dad and that a large piece of you died when he did. Nobody could replace Iron Man, but you were his iron daughter. You had to grow up being iron. You had to harden yourself, be prepared for anything. You weren’t prepared to lose your Dad.

It was late, the city was vast. Peter Parker sat right next to you, but the distance between you and him was even more vast than that of the city. Sometimes you wondered why you allowed yourself to separate so far from him, why you didn’t just ignore how much you hurt around him. Sometimes you wished that you didn’t, but nothing seemed to fit. Nothing would mend whether you forced yourself to be around Peter or not.

The night dragged on and Peter stayed right next to you until sunrise. The worst part was that it was not an awkward silence. It was so familiar, and there’s something so harsh about that. They say that misery loves company, but you just wanted to be alone, but love was often misleading anyways. Did misery love company, or the idea of company?

The whole night you had three thoughts on your mind. Peter Parker, Tony Stark, and why you and Peter Parker couldn’t save everyone. A dream team in the newspaper talked about by millions, a speculated romance in teen magazines, a teenage heartthrob duo. If the team was so unbeatable, why couldn’t you save everyone? Why couldn’t you save your Dad? What about Aunt Nat? It was too much to handle alone, but it was the only way to handle it...alone.

You stared at the sunrise, the orange and pink colliding into the blue to make a beautiful lavender. The sky was too happy for a world that has lost too much.

“Do you see that (y/n)?”  You brought yourself to look at Peter for the first time the whole night.

Nutmeg hair that fell on his forehead like how waves crashed on the shore. Chocolate eyes that resembled that of a puppy. Broad shoulders, strong arms...He was still Peter Parker, he was the same Peter Parker you once admired. You hated yourself for resenting Peter, but you couldn’t bring yourself not to.

You nod in response.

“The world still turns.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“It should. It lets us know we’re still here,” Peter gets up, “I’ve got to get going, school...Are you coming back?” He puts his hand out for you, you don’t take it.

He asks this question nearly every day, ‘school?’ Too daunting. You had already decided that online education would be fine for you, until college at least, but that was later, this was now.

You shook your head in response. Peter nodded sheepishly before swinging away from building to building.

Now you had work to get done.

a/n thank you so so much for reading i really hope you liked it, requests are always open and if you want to be added to a tag list just comment it/drop it in my ask box

[thecoleopterawithana]

Hello! I really adore your blog and all the work you put into it! It's well appriciated. Anyways, a real question - how do you feel about Paul and Jane's relationship? Because it confuses me on so many levels. I find it very hard to believe she didn't know about his many affairs while they were together, yet the public reason for their break up is his adultery with Francie who denied that (I mean who even reported that?). 1/3

The other thing that confuses me is the fact that he was writing basically break up songs (but I didn’t register a lot of love there tbh) back in 66 and they somehow managed to last until 68, even though they totally didn’t give the impression of a good match (her ambition and his desire for housewife/bachelor life) nor did they seem as if they loved each other very much (at least publically).

The last part of the question, are you aware of a love song he wrote for her? I know some people think Here There and Everywhere but her brother apparently disagrees. Anyways, these are just my feelings and idk if I am not under a wrong impression here or something. I also don’t want it to sound like I am theoretizing here about it being a cover up for mclennon - because I am not! I think of it more as a publicity stunt for publicity…

…(even though I think it evolved into that over the course of time and it began more like Paul showing off with this pretty actress he managed to woo). What do you think? Thank you for your answer and sorry for the lenght, haha! R. 😎

Hey there! Thank you so much for the ask and a million apologies for taking so long to answer! It’s just that I had no opinion to speak of, at the time. 

I was just beginning to attempt getting a grasp on Paul– and to better comprehend my main interest of Lennon/McCartney– and hadn’t branched into the other people in his life yet. But to reach a true understanding, it is crucial to look at the full picture; and Jane was very much part of that picture, during a long and formative time!

Now, I must warn you that I’m nowhere near a Jane Asher connoisseur! This post comes with the disclaimer that I don’t feel adequately informed to answer it. But you asked, and it has been sitting in my inbox long enough, so… take my personal opinions for what they (always) are: honest (but probably flawed) attempts at understanding the emotional workings of human beings, based on the information available to me at the time. 

But because I feel like there is more information out there that I just didn’t find in the targeted research for this post, I urge more knowledgeable fans to give their contributions and/or correct me if I make some factual mistake. 

So, disclaimer given, here’s the actual answer:

I understand and empathize with your confusion regarding their relationship. I think it’s just a feeling that arises from the lack of information. After all, theirs was a relationship under intense public scrutiny from the very beginning, but whose actual inner workings were kept – through the effort of both parties – determinately private and personal. That’s always how Paul prefered it. And, effectively demonstrated by her resolute silence since, so has Jane. 

The main feeling I get from Paul and Jane is that they were both incredibly similar people, who also had somewhat separate interests. And this seems to have been both what attracted them to one another, and what eventually made them grow apart. 

Both of them were very socially adept; “good mixers”. Brian Sommerville (the Beatles’ publicity manager from 1963-1964) describes Jane as “a very sweet, extroverted girl […] bright, very conversational and full of fun”. This kind of sounds like Paul at his most gregarious. 

They were incredibly intelligent. And if Jane was cultured and knowledgeable, Paul was intensely curious, and soon became cultured and knowledgeable himself. And Paul himself openly admits that he was always attracted to “intelligent and talented people”. 

And we must acknowledge that the Asher’s lifestyle as a whole was something that captivated Paul (enough to have him literally move in with them as soon as he could). It had been instilled into him from early on, after all, this great appreciation for education and the drive to do better and rise out of his circumstances. 

[My parents] aspired to a better life. That idea that we had to get out of here, we had to do better than this. This was okay for everyone else in the street but we could do better than this. She was always moving to what she saw as a better place to bring her kids up.

[…]

My parents aspired for us, very much indeed. That is one of the great things you can find in ordinary people. My mum wanted me to be a doctor. ‘My son the doctor’ - and her being a nurse, too. No problem there. And my dad, who left school at fourteen, would have loved me to be a great scientist, a great university graduate. I always feel grateful for that. I mean, God, I certainly fulfilled their aspirations, talk about overachieving! That was all bred into me, that.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

People call Paul a “social climber” to demean him; and because the term is used to attack him, others defend him by saying his relationship with Jane had nothing to do with social climbing. But I don’t think this should be derogatory in the first place! 

Paul was ambitious; he did want to gain a higher social status. Not because he felt that made him inherently better than others; he’d just been raised to feel a sense of responsibility for being the best that he could be, and not live in poverty anymore! And what’s wrong with that, I’d like to know? 

All the Beatles wanted success, fame and status, so all of them were social climbers, in a sense. 

So what if one of the things that attracted Paul to Jane was that she was educated and cultured? It seems like a perfectly valid reason to be genuinely into someone to me.

Of course, both of them were beautiful. As Tony Barrow (the Beatles’ press officer) put it: “There was something about seeing them together that was magical. With those two gorgeous faces and all that incredible charisma, they looked like a couple of Greek gods.”  So the physical attraction was also obviously there.

And I don’t doubt that Paul was proud to have such a beautiful, talented and interesting person as a girlfriend, and might have felt like showing her off to friends. But I don’t think that lessens how enamoured they were with one another. If the whole relationship was being performed for outwards appreciation, I feel like there’d be a lot more performing going on. Instead, they never revealed more than they needed to, nor did they stop living to hide from the public eye. 

If there publicity strategies to it, they never came from Brian Epstein himself, who actually thought that the Beatles having girlfriends was a marketing mistake:

There was a considerable difference of opinion over the Jane Asher situation. Brian made a terrible fuss about it, saying that it would offend the fans. But, in effect, Paul just told him to mind his own business. Brian was probably just being over-cautious, and Paul more far-sighted, knowing that that sort of thing didn’t matter. But at the time it was a textbook rule of publicity that the artist must appear single and available.

— Brian Sommerville, in Chris Salewicz’s McCartney (1986).   

So the relationship wasn’t arranged as a publicity stunt. I feel like everything points to them just genuinely liking each other. 

(And now just an honest question to those of you who’ve been longer in the fandom: is George’s relationship with Pattie Boyd also suspected to be a publicity stunt? Because I don’t know if this has just escaped my notice, or if this claim is something that afflicts only Paul and Jane specifically. And if so, why do you think that is?)

But going back to their similarities, both Jane and Paul were incredibly independent, self-assured and work-oriented. And I think it was the clash of their strong personalities that actually caused the bumps in the relationship. 

Paul likes to be in control of himself and to some extent the environment around him. And he’d grown up in a society where it was acceptable for that to extend to his girlfriends. 

John and I lusted after Brigitte Bardot in our teen yearsand tried to make our girlfriends look like her. […] I had a girlfriend called Dot, Dorothy Rohne, who was my steady girlfriend forquite a long time in Liverpool. She and John’s girlfriend, later wife, CynthiaPowell, came over to Hamburg and I remember buying her a leather skirt andencouraging her to grow her hair long so she’d look like Brigitte.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997). 

Jane, of course, wasn’t willing to be moulded so easily.

That’s typical Paul [wanting me to stay inside the George V Hotel with the band instead of going out by myself to see Paris]. It’s just so silly of me to stay at the hotel. It’s just that he’s so insecure. For instance, he keeps saying he’s not interested in the future, but he must be because he says it so often. The trouble is, he wants the fans’ adulation and mine too. He’s so selfish, it’s his biggest fault. He can’t see that my feelings for him are real and that the fans’ are fantasy. Of course, it’s the trouble with all boys.

—Jane Asher, c/o Michael Braun, Love Me Do!: The Beatles’ Progress. (1964)

This little passage shows us Jane’s insights into the “darker” sides of Paul’s character that other’s wouldn’t often see. His insecurities: fear that Jane would betray him, anxieties about the future and his need to be liked. And this level of understanding shows either an incredible perceptiveness and emotional intelligence on Jane’s part, or it is another sign of how close they were and how well they knew each other. 

That Paul was understood like that by another person is extremely important! As he was reported saying after their breakup in 1968: 

Jane wasn’t just my woman, she was my closest friend. I’ve told her everything inside me. She knows what makes me tick down to things that happened as a kid. I went right through all the stuff about my mother dying and how I dealt with that. With Jane, I could just relax completely and be myself and that seemed to be what she wanted. With the other women, I’m a fucking millionaire rock star who just happens to be about as shallow as a puddle.

—in Alistair Taylor’s With the Beatles (2003).

Or just before that, as observed during the extensive interviews for the Beatles’ authorized biography, in 1967:

[Paul’s] life is much quieter and more ordered now. Paul is very communicative about himself, unlike the others. He talks everything over with Jane. She knows what he’s thinking.

— in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968).

And I can’t stress enough how significant it is that Paul was open in such a way! It just shows how much he respected and trusted Jane. 

And I think she also trusted him. With this I don’t mean to say that she trusted him not to sleep around; I don’t believe for a minute she didn’t know about it. And because she doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of person who would endure it if she was actually betrayed and hurt by this, my personal opinion is that this was a given; something known and accepted between them. And probably not just one-way either. They spent long periods apart, after all, and I think both Paul and Jane had agreed between themselves that it was okay to have affairs. I don’t know exactly the specifics of it, or if this was revoked when they got engaged. 

But I don’t think that was the (main) reason the engagement was called off either.

It is clear they enjoyed the other’s company, from the amount of time they spent on outings and holidays alone together. But both also seem rather uncompromising in respects to their personal careers, and that probably lead to clashes. During 1965 they spend a lot of time apart when Jane pursues her acting career in Bristol Old Vic company.

My whole existence for so long centred around a bachelor life. I didn’t treat women as most people do. I’ve always had a lot around, even when I’ve had a steady girl. My life generally has always been very lax, and not normal.

I knew it was selfish. It caused a few rows. Jane left me once and went off to Bristol to act. I said OK then, leave, I’ll find someone else. It was shattering to be without her.

— Paul McCartney, in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968).

Paul’s frustrations were exercised through ‘We Can Work It Out’ and ‘I’m Looking Through You’:

I wrote quite a lot of stuff up in that room actually [in Jane Asher’s family home]. I’m Looking Through You I seem to remember after an argument with Jane. There were a few of those moments. […]

As is one’s wont in relationships, you will from time to time argue or not see eye to eye on things, and a couple of the songs around this period were that kind of thing. This one I remember particularly as me being disillusioned over her commitment. She went down to the Bristol Old Vic quite a lot around this time. Suffice to say that this one was probably related to that romantic episode and I was seeing through her façade. And realising that it wasn’t quite all that it seemed. I would write it out in a song and then I’ve got rid of the emotion. I don’t hold grudges so that gets rid of that little bit of emotional baggage. I remember specifically this one being about that, getting rid of some emotional baggage. ‘I’m looking through you, and you’re not there!’

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

You’re thinking of me the same old wayYou were above me, but not todayThe only difference is you’re down thereI’m looking through you and you’re nowhere

Why, tell me why, did you not treat me right? Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight

I’m looking through you, where did you go I thought I knew you, what did I know You don’t look different, but you have changedI’m looking through you, you’re not the same

Paul was especially shaken by this episode when it became apparent that she might actually leave him for her other boyfriend:

I remember more one time when she was working at the Bristol Old Vic and she’d got a boyfriend in Bristol and was going to leave me for him. That was wildly traumatic, that was ‘Uhhhh!’ Total rejection!

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

So to lead a better life, Paul needs his love to be here, but Jane was pursuing her own dreams:

Jane loved acting and Jane loved Paul, but she wasn’t about to give one up for the other. […] Of all the plum roles that had come her way, the Subservient Beatles Woman was the only one Jane Asher refused to play. […] She had too much going for her to take a backseat to anyone, much less her mate. From the beginning, Paul had a hard time keeping up with her. Jane’s diary, which she lived by, was a clutter of fascinating appointments and social commitments. “I was amazed by the diary,” Paul admitted. “I’ve never known people who stuffed so much into a day.” There were auditions, meetings with television and movie producers, vocal lessons, acting classes, fittings, gallery debuts, screenings, recitals, opening nights. […] “Paul was clearly in awe of her,” says Peter Brown. 

— in Bob Spitz’s The Beatles: The Biography (2005).

And though they both loved culture and the swinging London scene, Jane wasn’t into all the drugs or the rock-n’-roll world. So when they moved together to Cavendish in March 1966, their slightly different social circles often didn’t mix well.

At Wimpole Street, he and Jane had kept their social lives mainly separate. At Cavendish, she naturally wanted to entertain her theatre friends, and the mix of luvvies and rockers could sometimes be awkward. One evening when she had some fellow actors to dinner, Paul arrived home with John, who–whether the result of drink or pot or just plain Lennonness–was at his most maliciously provocative. When one of the actresses at the table nervously requested an ashtray, he knelt beside her and facetiously offered one of his nostrils for the purpose. Jane, with her usual sangfroid, simply extended a foot and pushed him over.

— in Phillip Norman’s Paul McCartney: The Biography (2016).

On this same month, during a skiing holiday in Switzerland, Paul writes ‘For No One’.

It was very nice and I remember writing 'For No One’ there.I suspect it was about another argument. I don’t have easy relationships withwomen, I never have. I talk too much truth.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

It’s interesting to me that Paul’s problem in his relationship with women is “talking too much truth”. But by the lyrics in the song, we see that once again Paul is struggling with Jane’s self-reliance and her perceived lack-of-interest for him (which I also find endlessly ironic):

She wakes up, she makes upShe takes her time and doesn’t feel she has to hurryShe no longer needs you

You want her, you need herAnd yet you don’t believe her when she says her love is deadYou think she needs you

You stay home, she goes outShe says that long ago she knew someone but now he’s goneShe doesn’t need him

Your day breaks, your mind achesThere will be times when all the things she said will fill your headYou won’t forget her

And in her eyes you see nothingNo sign of love behind the tearsCried for no oneA love that should have lasted years!

The next big separation comes in 1967, when Jane goes on a tour of the US for the first five months of the year. This was, of course, a time of tectonic changes within the Beatles and in Paul’s life. 

When I came back after five months, Paul had changed so much. He was on LSD which I hadn’t shared. I was jealous of the spiritual experiences he’d had with John.

—Jane Asher, in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968).

It must have been extremely disorientating to come back to the tripping, summer-of-love, looking-for-the-Meaning Paul. But to their credit, they did try to get to know one another again; reconnect:

On Jane’s return from America, she and Paul made a last-ditch stand to consolidate their relationship. Jane, unusually, even accompanied Paul to a recording session on 20 July 1967 […] Two days after the session, Jane accompanied Paul to Greece with the other Beatles. In August Jane was with him on the trip to Bangor to be initiated by the Maharishi, and during the difficult days following Brian’s death she was clearly a great source of strength and comfort to him; someone familiar and safe he could trust and confide in; someone with all the attributes of a wife. They spent the first three weeks of December alone together in Paul’s remote Scottish farm­house and four days later, on Christmas Day, 1967, they announced to Paul’s family - perhaps slightly to their own surprise - their engagement.

— in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

Jane and Paul make a very loving and lovely couple. Everyone agrees on this. […] Paul and Jane have more time together, on their own, than probably the other Beatle couples. They do get away together, to places like their Scottish home, thanks to Jane. They were the first to want to move to the country for good, to a quieter smaller house, which John and George now also want to do.

—in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968).

When they got engaged, on Christmas Day 1967, all these problems were in the past. Maharishi, for a long time, was the only little point of difference, although it was all amicable. Jane didn’t fall for him when the others did, although she understood the attraction. She would obviously have preferred to try to reach a spiritual state on their own. Paul wasn’t as committed as George and John when he went with Jane to India in 1968, but he felt there was something there that would help him, that might answer his questions. So Jane agreed to go with him. 

— in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968).

Suffice it to say, Paul didn’t get his answers. In fact, the reality he knew was about to crumble.

The summer of 1968 was a horrible storm of drugs, anxiety and heartbreak, where he had to take care of this budding enterprise while managing a band and losing both his partners. And I think Alistair Taylor’s descriptions of a completely wrecked Paul reflect all of that. 

It’s curious then how Paul recalls his reaction to the calling off of the engagement later:

I don’t remember [his and Jane’s eventual] breakup as being traumatic, really. I remember more one time when she was working at the Bristol Old Vic and she’d got a boyfriend in Bristol and was going to leave me for him. That was wildly traumatic, that was ‘Uhhhh!’ Total rejection! We got back together again but I had already gone through that when we eventually split up. It seemed it had to happen. It felt right.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

They were eventually both at peace with the decision. Paul has expressed that he had an intuitive unconscious reticence over actually marrying Jane. And Jane herself had felt that they’d grown too much and apart as people. She surmises: 

“And I had four [wonderful years].

“No, it wasn’t love at first sight on my side. It was several months before I felt at all certain. And of course, I was young. Only seventeen. Inevitably, one changes. After all, Paul himself was only twenty when we met.

“I knew in my bones that the break must inevitably come a long time before it actually happened. Although we had this emotional thing for each other, we found it difficult to be really happy together.”

I remembered, then, the character in another play who had cried: “I am not offering you happiness, but love.” And I remembered, too, how that great J. L. Garvin had once told me when I was Jane’s age: “Everything in life makes either for happiness or experience.”

“And sometimes the experience is more important,” I suggested now.

She nodded as she got up to go.

“I long to improve as an actress and I hope what’s happened to me will make me understand more fully the characters I am asked to play. Anyway, I promise you, I wouldn’t not have had it happen. I mean, I am very, very grateful for those four years. And I am not going to look back in bitterness or anger, but only forward.

“People are such bores who make a drama out of their lost loves. In every case someone has to fall out of love first.”

—Jane Asher, interview w/ Godfrey Winn for The Australian Women’s Weekly: Girl with a broken love affair. (April 23rd, 1969)

So here’s my overview of Paul and Jane. 

I feel like their relationship was very genuine and organic, so much so that they eventually grew in different directions. But they were nevertheless very important and formative figures in each other’s lives. 

And it was personally very interesting for me to see this side of Paul too, the one whose needs are left unmet by a driven, work-oriented, independent partner, and how he reacted to that. 

Jane herself is an awesome woman in her own right, and I loved this chance to get to know her a little better.

As for love songs written from Paul to Jane, I would ask for the help of more well-informed fans! I’m sure many of the feelings expressed in his love songs were also inspired in part by his experiences with Jane. Is there one particular song out there which has been stated to be about her?

[kaz3313]

Hell is the Ink Machine

I swear the title will make sense eventually 

This is part 1 (of I think 2 or 3 parts) of a fic enspired by @a-rae-of-sunshine ‘s idea’s. Idk why this idea resonated with me so much but it did!

Graphic depictions of violence ahead, proceed at your own risk

 As Joey Drew hears the door handle click open his heart begins to race and he sucks in a long breath; what he assumes to be his last.

 Everything in the studio had previously been going perfectly or as perfectly as a business can run. The animation department has been chugging out two episodes a monthly, one month three cartoons due to a Christmas and Hanukkah special, but quality still is priority.

Sammy Lawrence and Jack Fain recently won an award for the soundtrack for the cartoons; Sammy displays it in his office with pride and would make sure to polish it every week so both musician and lyricists names shone. Sometimes Jack, while passing by the music director’s office, would be caught staring at it. Besides Jack and himself no one was aloud to touch it; especially not Wally who would ‘break it’.

The toy factory is busy as ever;Joey had to hire twelve more people other than Shawn, who was the head of toy making, to help with all the demand for the toys. Bendy, surprising, did not sell the best, that place was held for the little angel, Alice. Due to such good sales the toy makers began to experiment with some side character right now the Butcher Gang.

Bendy Land is coming around nicely though its debut would take an estimated two years. That was fine with Joey, the park would be well worth the delay. It will have many extravagant rides.

Then there was the ink machine that will make extreme profits when-

Well it would’ve, if not for immediate threat present-Henry Stein.

Henry, oh dear Henry Joey thought to himself, what broke the poor fellow Joey has no clue. He was always a hard worker and overall good man. Joey asked him last night to look at some cells on his desk. Just a quick review nothing major.

“Are you sure that’s all you want Joey?” And Joey nodded and that had been the last thing that had been said between them.

Now Henry is off attacking anything and anyone he sees. Now the reaper who once was his friend is at his doorstep. He should grab something, Joey thought absentmindedly, to defend himself from Henry but...he doubts he could fight the man much less defeat him. It wasn’t due to his disability- Joey had fought many a man despite it-no it was a pesky feeling that refused to leave his heart. He squeezes his eyes shut, as the door opens and slams shut, and hopes with all his heart that however his death ensues it’s quick.

“Mister Drew! I’m glad it’s just you in here- Henry is in the music department and wrekin’ havoc!” Joey opens his eyes to see the exasperated janitor before him. Sweat pours down his uncharacteristically grim face.

“Well thank the gods it’s just you Wally; how badly were people hurt in the animation department? I hope no one ran down to the infirmary…” Joey says; Henry couldn’t be purposely going after people right? When Joey had seen him he could tell something was wrong, like he didn’t know what was going on.

“No one got to the infirmary- pretty sure I’m the only one that got outta there,” Wally’s voice was hollow even when he said his usual catchphrase. It suddenly dawned on Joey what he meant

“he’s killed everyone?” But even as Joey asks the question he knows the answer. He felt his body tremble as tears begin to streak his face. He shakingly grabbed the phone but the line was dead.

“Um, what should we do?” Wally asks but the only response is a pitiful sob.

Sammy Lawrence held the only thing he could find that had any resemblance to a weapon that wasn’t an instrument (despite the conditions his mind scolded him when he first picked up the banjo), a dust pan from the supply closet. Henry had gotten ahold of the only fire axe that were in the first two levels and swung it around widely like everything was a monster.

 A shiver takes over Samuel's body as the memory of Henry killing all the musicians replays in his head. He stood in the projectors booth and all he could do was stare. Henry didn’t even blink an eye when the body's would spray blood on him or when people would beg for their lives. And the madman wouldn’t stop at just hitting them once, even if it killed them the first time, he’d strike them several times. Then there was Johnny who Sammy heard his screeches while Henry played the organ. Sammy doubts he’ll ever forget what’s happened but best not to dwell while the killer is still around.

  Sammy is going to stop Henry himself and if that means sneaking up behind him in the infirmary then that’s what he was going to do. Unfortunately Henry isn’t in the infirmary when Sammy arrives which mean he traveled down farther...into the sewers where Jack was. Sammy feels ice run through his body as he continues to sneak through.

Sammy’s mind refuses to stop racing. He desperately tries to calm himself down with his quickly self made plan. Just hit him hard, in the back of the head, and then run. It’s not that hard- don’t start focusing on the fact that an axe is a much deadlier weapon then a dust pan and don’t focus that a dust pan isn’t a real weapon and don’t think about the fact that Henry could probably overpower you in a millisecond without since he’s big and bulky and- his thoughts cut off when he comprehends the scene in front of him.

Just like the band members being killed everything turns to slow motion with Sammy stuck in place like a statue. Henry has Jack cowering in the center of the room a box swaying above him.

“N-now, Henry, we can be civilized- just put down that axe and step away from the switch and we-” Jack’s voice is unnaturally raised two octaves as he tries to reason with the monster before him. but Henry does neither as he flicks the switch down a ten pound box dropping with it. A loud crunch echoes through the room and carnage is sprayed on the back wall. Henry approaches it; for what Sammy doesn’t know because he’s already running away. As he leaves he hears Henry’s once comforting now chilling voice.

“Sorry I had to do that, nice hat though” Sammy chokes back a whimper.

 Sammy is a wreck even when Henry returns, walking into his office. Jack the lyricist-no- his best friend was just killed by someone he was once considered a friend. Jack who would always talk with in the morning even when he was the grouchiest. Jack who would find words to even the worst tunes. It became a game of theirs for Sammy to make a horrendous melody and for Jack to make just as  horrendous lyrics to it. Somehow Jack failed at the game because even if the words were inherently dirty or dark they always went perfectly with the music

Sammy’s body refusing to stop shaking even when he reasons to himself that this could just attract Henry to him quicker. What he needs to do is gather his courage and just face him otherwise others could get hurt. Sammy always complained about everyone being annoying but seeing everyone get brutally murdered made him want to keep those around safe...who was around though? The band is gone as is most of the music department but Sammy never saw what became of Norman who often would be in his booth.Norman seems like the man to try and evacuate anyone he can, so Sammy silently believes the unproven truth he conjured for himself. He Doesn't know the fate of Wally either who’d often bother any poor sap who’d listen to his ramblings (Sammy couldn’t believe he’s thinking it but he hopes to hear the janitors stories soon). Thinking about it he didn’t see any of the voice actors and actresses not even-

Susie.

Susie could be hurt and at that realization Sammy’s fear is lost. Adrenaline pumps through him as he runs behind the torturous man swinging with all the force he can muster. Henry collapses onto the ground with a loud thud the only noise following is Sammy’s heavy breathing.

“We have to leave soon sir. If we stay here we’re just lambs waitin’ for slaughter,” Wally says, Joey looking at him with wide eyes. Wally guesses he’s not used to hearing all this serious stuff, especially from him, and he admits he’s not used to it either. He still can’t get the screams from the animation department out of his head nor the image of Henry staring right at him. The unstable animator’s shirt was stained with red that was impossible to ignore on his white shirt. His eyes were dead to the world as he had approached Wally in the back of the room.

“Oh god,” Wally thought he was regaining his conscious but that wasn’t the case “what did Joey do?” Then he grabbed Wally by the shirt. His voice died in the back of his through but his mouth still did the motions for spoke silent pleas. Henry tilted his head before taking the wrench out of his shirt pocket before walking away. That’s when Wally realized the man wasn’t seeing the world like everyone else; he was lost in his own mind.

The door creaks open again which not only brings Wally back to focus but he picks up the chair he had his hand on moments ago. He throws it at the approacher while glancing around the room for anything that could be a good weapon.

“Damn boy! What in hell has gotten into you!” Thomas curses out pushing the chair away making a path for him and Alison to walk through.

“Oh, Tom,” Wally says expecting to loosen but he feels his body tense and before he knows it he’s inconsolably crying on Thomas’ shoulder. In the background he hears Joey desperately trying to explain what has happened calmly but Wally can hear his own cracks in his voice. Not only that but he’s sure Tom and Alison have noticed his puffy tear stained face.

Sammy drags the unconscious tied up Henry through the music department not knowing where to dump him. He had to keep an eye on him,so he wouldn’t get away, so it couldn’t be the band room where corpses were currently rotting. It would be kind of fitting though, stuck in a place with all the people you’ve murdered ( were these the only people he’s murdered though? Sammy isn’t sure he wants an answer) and Sammy didn’t find it as cruel as he knew he should.

Why not just kill him? The thought kept creeping into his brain but Sammy dismisses it again. Not for the fact Henry deserves to live but rather for his own sanity he couldn’t see another person die  and killing someone with his own hands definitely wouldn’t tip his mentality in any good way.

Then Henry begins to stir and Sammy drops him where he is, backing up.

Alison sits quietly trying not to stare at the mourning terrified men. She was recently hired to do voices of background characters, singing trees and that kind of nonsense, and though she wants to help she doesn’t know either of these people well enough to be of much comfort. She knew Wally was a chatty janitor and handyman that would spend a lot of time with Tom helping him check on the ink machine. She knew he had a partner, who she was unsure but she heard some whispers from other voice actresses that he was taken. Not that she was asking; she was with Tom after all. Joey, even if he was her boss, she knew even less about. He didn’t come out of his office too much she guessed due to the stairs everywhere (she wasn’t sure why they hadn’t just installed ramps inside the place instead). She doubted it was for the reason he liked to keep to himself becoming every time she did come to his office he was with someone chatting to someone. Actually, if memory serves her correct, he chatted most to Henry...her frown deepens.

At least Tom was there he seemed to be handling this better then herself.

“We need to leave quickly-“ Tom begins to say Wally already nodding to what was being said.

“I’m staying here,”  Joey states using his sleeve to dry his tears.

“Mr. Drew I-“

“I’m the captain, I must stay aboard my ship even while it sinks. And anyhow I’d just slow you three down,” he whispers the last part looking at his wheelchair with disdain.

“We’re not leaving you!” Tom snarls slamming his hand on the desk but Joey doesn’t flinch.

“Your not leaving me. I simply am just refusing to come with,” She might know little but one thing Alison knew about Joey Drew that he was stubborn. More stubborn than Tom.

Sammy didn’t yell when Henry awoke nor when he started squirming in his rope. Sammy simply left him- what could a tied up man do- to find a phone of any kind. He has this feeling that Drew didn’t call anyone or maybe that was just dread that he could be dead.

Sammy gulps telling his mind to knock off with the overdramatic dark thinking;he’s getting sick of that mindset.

Then he hears footsteps behind him spinning around quickly Henry stands behind raising the bloody axe.

“No! Henry! I’m your friend! Henry, I’m your friend! Stay back-“ he feels the axe slice mercilessly through his side. Blood pours out of the fresh wound along with an agonized screech. Sammy raises a fist but it doesn’t reach Henry before another swing of his axe. This time he stifled a scream as his fist connects with Henry’s nose. A crack noise emerges but either the ex-animator didn’t notice or didn’t care for he continued the butchering. After the fourth strike Sammy’s body buckles down falling into a pool of his own blood it stains his blond cascading hair. A last strike in the chest breaks the axe in half. Henry, satisfied with his work,leaves the music director and yet Sammy’s heart still beats. His eyes are still open, even if his vision swims, and his breath comes out in strained heaves. But he still lived and he stays conscious.

So with the bit of energy he still has, Sammy hoists himself to his arms and begins to crawl leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

 Wally doesn’t mean to get spooked nor does he mean to leave Thomas and Alison but when he heard the dropping of a board he spirits away. He hears Tom yelling after him but his own instincts kick in. After realizing that they didn’t follow him when he ran away from a nothing threat more tears peak at his eyes. Did he really just leave them? Were they killed like everyone else or spared like him?

Why was he spared in the first place? The unanswerable question lingered in his mind along with the thought that Tom and Alison were dead.

His thoughts are a horrible muddled mess so he doesn’t notice when he kicks a nearby can of the old stock of bacon soup (it didn’t sell well but Joey decided it took up to much space in the warehouses so he gave it to any employee that wanted some. Since cans of it were still abundant and it’d been more than a year since he passed them out Wally deduces that they didn’t sell well for a good reason) but he does notice the voice that slices the air like a knife through butter.

“Boris,” Henry Stein gives a wide grin.

[castalk]

Jeno e Jaemin (Nomin) - Relantionship analysis part 1

The analysis ended up way more big than I imagined, so I split in 2 posts. 

Reading some pages and forums I always found a discussion about Jeno, Jaemin and their relationship. People always discussing if it’s just friendship, just a ship, or if there’s really something real in that, and I really want to give my contribution to that ‘cause everything may come to add is good, valid and worth discussion. So here I go.

I’d like to start saying that it’s my opinion, and a speculation. I’m not affirming anything, I’m just saying my way of interpretation of things that really happened. You don’t have to agree, I only ask for respect.

Since when I got into NCT this two boys always caught my attention, first separately, and then together. I don’t know what’s more interesting in that group seriously, Taeyong and his fascinating self discover, Jaehyun and his journey of trying to put on a facade and failing, Mark and everything that he may be or may not be, or Jaemin and Jeno with their really blurred and questioning (for lack of a better word) relationship.

I want to talk about them individually first, to sustent what I have to say about the couple. Some “ship analysis” fall on the ground when you realize that they only act like that specific way with that person or situations. What I’m trying to do is explain why I think that Jaemin and Jeno have romantic feelings for each other so having a introduction of them separately is good to see them together better.

Starting with Jaemin.

We all know and agree that Jaemin is really good and seems to enjoy fanservice a lot. I always thought that this was the way he relied on to build his place in the group again. Jaemin was away from the NCT activities from more than a year, he basically debuted and was that. When he came back was in a moment where all the units were interacting together, the group was huge, and with other super charismatic members debuting at the same time he was coming back. So he had to do something to catch the fandom attention, make people like him, conquer his space and be close with his members. He is naturally positive, bright, extrovert, caring, lovely, sweet, touching and all, so I think this was really easy for him. That is not a persona he created to perform as idol, I really think is pretty much natural and comfortable besides all the fanservice things that we all know where resides because that just how he is, who he is.

Even before the debut Jaemin already were the boyfriend material kind of idol just like he is today. But I don’t think that everything that he says and does is fanservice at all (with the members). He seems way more to be type to take advantage of this to do and say things he wants without being taken too seriously, having this joking air, like “I’m doing this just for the fun. For the entertainment” The boy has a huge curiosity and very obvious interest in other boys and I think that this is a thing about himself that he started to explore now. Maybe he discovered that when he was in medical leave, maybe before, idk. The thing is that he lives surrounded by interest, attractive, beautiful and familiar boys, so the members are his material of experimentation and is quite interest and fun to watch.

He is really flirt and confident about it. We see him doing without shame with Jeno, Renjun, Mark, Jungwoo, Jaehyun… I said that he is experimenting flirting with the others members, but for me he seems to know what he is doing, and where he wants to go.

What I think is that he is trying to figure out is what type of boy he likes, how he wants to a relation to be (in all senses, romantically, sexually…). He knows he likes boys, he is confident about this. His experimentation is to found out how he wants to expresses himself sexually, what kind of boys he is attracting and wants to attract.

He seems to like to be more active, dominant, the one who takes a first step. He likes to make the boys flustered in every way he could think of, and have so much fun doing it. Jaemin, imo, gives this impression that he likes to be more on command, have the things under his control, the one that is causing an effect in the other. Just like when he out of nowhere said that he and Jisung were wearing couple shirts. Or when he said to Mark give him a kiss when his coming of age party happens.  Or 90% of the things he says and do towards Jisung (who is not very receptive of skinship). Him trying to kiss Jaehyun, and with Jeno (who definitely is his favorite “victim”).

Most of the time he is the one who starts the interaction, but when it’s not him, he always makes sure to give a response more intense and turn the “game” to his favor. And there’s a LOT of moments like this.

Jeno and Mark are the ones who get flustered more easily, so he messes around with them more. He also is really fond of Jisung but I don’t think that is nothing more than hyung-dongsaeng relation. And he is really closer to Renjun too. And more than just the things he says he has other ways to get in the hyungs.

Jaemin is really hard to fluster, he says a lot of cheesy things without shame while everyone is cringing, and do aegyo very easily. But there’s at least three times when he was really shakened. One was when he was keeping his face really close of Jungwoo’s, then Jungwoo suddenly turned and just blowed a kiss. The boy panicked. The second was with Jungwoo again, in a similar situation.

And the other was in “I love you game” when he lose just to look at Ten’s face, more precisely the way Ten looked at him (the video didn’t filmed Ten’s face, the other members imitated). He even stood up and was really surprised, nervous and flustered.

This two things made me more sure that he likes to have the control, to be the more intense one. The other way around make him nervous. But that doesn’t mean that he don’t like it at all, is just that is not what touch the right spot in him. And Ten and Jungwoo are the confident legends in the group, of course their game is strong.

So this is what I think about him, a boy who likes boys, he already gave a lot of signals that he is ideed attracted to boys and it’s not just a bromance things. He is comfortable with his sexuality, and now ready to found himself even more, leaning more towards his sexual desires and attractions. Is beautiful, shameless and already to live his best life. A healthy boy, thank god.

Now Jeno.

Jeno is a clouded one.  I’d say that he is in the same spectrum of Jaemin, but in his first steps. The same way that Jaemin’s actions are all over the place so are Jeno’s, but in a very chaotic and confused way. He is aware of his attraction towards men, likes to observe them, alone and when two interact -when they touch, flirt, keeps him very interest and attentive. He can be really immersed in the moment, smiling and enjoying but in the next he comes back to his “self conscience” mode.

One thing about him is that he came from a catholic family, was raised in this environment. But the point I want to touch is not that he holds himself for thinking in his religion. My family is catholic too, and thinking in this never stopped me in my discovery of my sexuality, I did it and never regretted. I know that’s not like this with everyone, but in his case I think that he maybe feel like this too, religion is not what holds him. Recently I found out that he told in a vlive that he was no longer catholic, so this added in my think that he is, in his pace, embracing his sexuality.

There’s one vlive where the boys told that when he’s home Jeno only play games. In the next video they commented that Jeno’s mom called him and scolded him after watched that video. So what I think that affects his comportment more, and makes him so aware of his actions when the things could become too “comfortable”, when he is letting being guide for his secret desires and he maybe give himself away is the fact that his parents watch the NCT dream content and he knows that.

He also is very timid and not good at voice out his thoughts and feelings. While Jaemin says I love you’s as if it’s nothing, Jeno can’t say this in a comprehensible way, for example. He is that type that uses jokes to say how he feels, never making himself so serious. Like in his card for Haechan’s birthday where he wrote that they knew each other for 6 (I think) years, had been through a lot, and them wrote “we know each other for so long. It’s enough, I don’t want more”. Or in lives, he complements the members and them says that he was reading a comment.

Actions like this are what makes me think that he wants to be braver and leave this shell where he is right now because he has so much love and care to give. And I can see him trying but still panics a lot and come back. He has some attitudes of a confident one, but in the next moment he has reactions of a panicked. He is soft, likes to hug the members, and there’s specific that are more close to him, like Ten (who is hyper sweet with him), Doyoung (who multiple times said that Jeno is his favorite NCT member and treats him like a son), Mark (the no jam duo), Renjun (who I think is the second closest to him, and a big source of support) and Jaemin (his best friend for years gay straight).

But there’s still a long way to him. It’s like I’m watching myself through him. And even if ours situations are different, I can tell that are a lot to organize, and comprehend.

But I think that Jeno wouldn’t be this confused, lost and caothic with discovering and figuring out his own things with it wasn’t for the fact that he -high possibly- has a crush in one of his friends.

Discovering that you like boys, at the age of 17, living a public life, coming from a conservative family, living in a homophobic country, and through and/or with feelings for a friend is just not easy. I can’t imagine how messy Jeno’s head is with all this put together. I think that he just not exploded thanks to his job making him focus in other things and relieve stress.

I just think that things for Jeno are really confusing and that makes him this boy with bold moments where he takes some initiative, but them regrets, like “what are you doing?”, and them back off, but can totally keep the interaction if there’s a limit (that maybe only exist in his mind to comfort and tranquilize him that “this” is okay, “more than this” not okay, your gay is showing).

What I conclude of him, till now, is that he is conscious of his sexuality and is trying to be comfortable with, find his right way of presents himself. It’s already too strong in him to be shut up, too pretend that is not there.  He already have a sexual expression too, that shows when he is with different members, so I conclude that he’ still not completely aware of it, but for what he knows he is already trying to take control. Jeno, imo, seems more submissive. He’s still scared to really get into the “feeling”, but when he does he is more likeable of lean on responding to a more intense attitude. He is almost like that boyfriend that doesn’t know how to say no. But that doesn’t mean he lacks in attitude. He takes some, but in majority is just to catch attention, to tease one response. The response he gets it’s what really catches his senses.  He “plays to be get”.

I hope you guys liked this. If there’s something that I’m lacking you can tell me with love to not hurt (lol). If theres something you want to ask, go foward! If you like this analysis part 1 and want to see me doing more, you can ask me to, I’d love that! 

Till the next one!

[ssironstrange]

do yall ever just like... get stuck on how fucked up and toxic your parent(s) are without them really even meaning to be?? like thats just so much a part of who they are and how they were raised they literally cannot see the damage they’re doing?

man i’m 30, a grown ass person, and i’m still dealing with this from my mother. i love her and i’m grateful to her and she went through her fair share of absolute horrible shit but she still, to this day, tears me down without realizing what she’s doing, without seeing she’s just continuing the cycle of abuse her mother did to her and her mothers mother.

the other day we went out to dinner together, something we rarely do bc my s/o and i hate being around her honestly. i made a comment about how being out in the sun is making my freckles really come out and i was excited about it and she makes a disgusted face and says, in that voice we all know, “you like your freckles?”

and immediately it just brought forth every single other thing she’s ever said in that way that she doesn’t like about me, especially when it’s something i do like about me.

back when i was underweight but confident about my body and actually liked to show it off, she would always make a point to say something about my thighs and the cellulite dimples. how i shouldn’t wear shorts because of them.

now that i smile more with my teeth because i just don’t care that mine aren’t super straight she always likes to comment if she comes into some money she’ll get my teeth fixed. (to which i respond if she comes into some money and wants to do something for me just give me the money)

cutting my hair short and shaving the sides, having essentially an undercut, has been one of the most comfortable and fun hairstyles i’ve ever had. i feel more like me with it than i ever have. she never fails to point out how much she hates it, quite literally saying so. “it’s a boy’s haircut” she likes to say every time. every time i come back with “so was the bowl cut i had for years as a kid. since when did hair become sentient and decide which gender it was?”

every single time i’ve ever done something meant for boys, which has been most of my life. “dinosaurs are for boys” she’d say again and again until finally my grandmother, as sexist, racist, and otherwise abusive as she was, was also an amateur paleontologist,  stepped in to say something about it. only then did i get all the dinosaur toys and books i had wanted. “hot wheels are boy toys” she’d say, but my brother gladly gave me all of his when he grew out of playing with them. i entered and won a hot wheels tournament because i had played with them on different tracks so much i knew precisely which ones worked best. she continued to try and force me to play with baby dolls and barbies. i continued to chop off my little ponies manes and tails and play in the mud with them.

any time i felt good wearing “boy clothes” she had to tell me how the girls would make fun of me.

then in my later teens and 20s when i tried more feminine things like dresses and skirts she would mock me and ask me what happened to hating those kinds of clothes.

or how i tell her i don’t particularly like to drink that much and i can have plenty of fun without getting drunk and she (who is an alcoholic in extreme denial) would make fun of me for it.

it was totally okay for her to force me to get my ears pierced in a claire’s store back when i was like 5 so i would “look pretty for daddy” (even tho they were divorced and she hated him, she liked to use him against me. also she didn’t think that maybe i would have allergic reactions to most metals and couldn’t wear earrings.) but when i got my first tattoo at 22 she couldn’t belIEVE i would do something so permanent to my own body that only thugs and criminals did (???)

it was acceptable for her to start trying to make me sexually attractive to boys when i was 10, telling me to shave my legs, wear a bra, sit a certain way, act a certain way, care about my hair and how pretty my face looked all for the sake of boys. despite the fact she fucking knew i spent years being sexually assaulted and molested. but then when i willingly had sex at 17 she shamed me. when i came home late from working a full time job and going to college full time she would call me a slut and a whore (because somehow it made more sense that i would be out banging my boyfriend rather than working the job she knew i had but okay)

and these are just a handful of the things she would do throughout my life. ANY time i was happy, she had this need to take it away from me. like, because she didn’t get to have the happiness i was experiencing, then i didn’t deserve it either. but the thing is she has never been consciously aware of what she’s doing. we’ve got into more fights than you can imagine and most recently i’ve brought up her toxicity and she straight up couldn’t understand it. she still doesn’t comprehend what i mean. she has been trying to be better, i’ll give her that, but she doesn’t get it on the most fundamental level. it’s just who she is and she can’t change it.

and it’s just so many kinds of fucked up. for her and for me. 

i wish more parents could be aware of their own behavior and how it might affect their children. i wish some people didn’t get so locked into the abuse cycle that they can’t escape it.

idk man. i just needed to vent about it.

[loxxxlay]

No

NGL, this ask sounds ominous af, but idk what the deal is, so have a free prompt fill that you probably didn’t want lmao. i only spent an hour on it, so ... hope yall are still able to enjoy

cw grandthorki, frostmaster, dubcon, noncon

for mobile users, there is a read more cut.

***

"No,” Loki said.

“I’m sorry—what did you just say?” There was a dangerous edge to the Grandmaster’s voice—a sharpness beneath the calm.

A tremor rolled down Loki’s spine, and he couldn’t meet the Grandmaster’s eyes. He was too afraid—head ducked, hands clasped in front of him like a shield, feet angled to back away—but he didn’t change his mind. He didn’t take the out the Grandmaster was offering him.

“No,” he said again. “I won’t do it.”

The barrenness of silence descended upon them. Nothing. Nothing but Thor’s faint snores where he lay unconscious and bound in the steel chair, an obedience disc embedded in the flesh of his throat. Loki didn’t look at him either.

“You know, I gotta say,” the Grandmaster said, “this is rather disappointing.” He stopped and claimed a seat on the edge of the nearby bed.

Loki dared to look at him, and the Grandmaster’s eyes were alight with both a friendly smile and a flicker of annoyance.

At Loki’s attention, he shook his head, a soft couple of tsk’s spilling from his lips. “After all I’ve done for you, all the favors I’ve granted you, and you won’t even give me the benefit of a good show in return?”

“The favors.” Loki scoffed. “You call them favors for me? I’ve all but been made your concubine.”

“My, my concubine?” The Grandmaster laughed. “Lo Lo, my dear, you are the one who begged for my attention. Actually, I’m pretty sure you are the one who first asked to make me, uh, happy, even the first time we did anything remotely sexual. The first day you showed up on Sakaar and intruded on my party without permission? And all the times after that, weren’t you the one who, uh, initiated? At least, most of the time?”

Loki pressed his lips together. It was true. Norns, it was true. “Yes. Because I had no better—because you gave me no other—”

“Am I to understand, sweetpea, that you were lying about what you wanted? All this time?”

And this was it—the final escape, the final point of return. Loki straightened himself to his full height and lifted his chin. This time, he met the Grandmaster’s eyes as he said it. “Yes,” he hissed. “Yes. Every single time. I never wanted to, I never—you forced me. Even if you never used your power or influence, there has always been the threat of it.”

The irritation in the Grandmaster’s amber eyes flared. “My dear, see. You put me in a sort of, well, let’s just come at it. An uncomfortable situation. I’m not really sure what to make of it.” Smile intact, he leaned back and stared thoughtfully, looking Loki over as if he were a piece of defective furniture. “See, you say you were lying then—but what if you are lying now? Which am I to believe?”

“I’m not lying,” Loki snapped. He could feel himself losing control of the conversation, being funneled into a corner, but he couldn’t find his way out. (There was no way out. Not with him.) “You know I’m not. You’ve always known how I felt about it. You’re sick. You’re absolutely perverse, and you can’t make me pretend any—”

Without warning, the Grandmaster was on his feet and stalking forward.

Instinctively, Loki was in front of his sleeping brother in a defensive stance before the Grandmaster could cross half the room. Loki’s heart throbbed with adrenaline, his veins coursed, and the well of his magic readied, useless as it would be. Whatever confidence Loki had recovered drained at the sight of this monster’s wilted smile—the truth of the raw power, the boundless sadism—and Loki could only hope in vain that if he was struck down, then Thor would not follow. That Thor would escape somehow.

But then, the Grandmaster stopped and laughed again. He held his arms up in a shrug. “Aww, dear, don’t look so terrified. I’m not going to hurt you. In fact— it’s clear to me, that we’ve had a, uh, communication problem, hmm? If you couldn’t even—well, trust me to say what you were feeling until now, then, jee, I guess I gotta do something about that.”

Loki didn’t move. His heart ached to hear those words. He wanted to believe, he wanted to so much that his chest felt like it would burst, that his knees nearly buckled, that his mouth almost pled for the Grandmaster’s forgiveness—but it wasn’t true. He forced himself to know it.

“Your brother, on the other hand,” and the Grandmaster waved over Loki’s shoulder, “doesn’t seem to have that problem with you. Just a guess, but from where I’m standing, it looks like you’d do about anything for him.” He raised an eyebrow, and the threat of his power remained palpable, as if squeezing the air. “So why is this where you draw the line?”

Disgust twisted Loki’s stomach. He shoved the images that the Grandmaster had suggested earlier out of his mind. “I’m not attracted to him. He’s my brother.”

“Oh, but sex doesn’t have to be about attraction, dear. Although . . .” His eyes flickered over Loki’s body. “. . . it definitely can be. But haven’t you agreed with me countless times? Sex is about favor. About showing your gratitude. Which reminds me.”

Loki swallowed.

“Isn’t there just one little favor I granted for you?” the Grandmaster asked. “Something to do with, oh, I don’t know, the reason your little Sparkles is here in the first place?”

In that moment, Loki had wished he’d let Thor go to his doom in the arena. He wished he’d never spoken, when the Grandmaster waved the remote and had Thor’s chair rolling him towards the door, towards the prison chambers where the gladiator combatants awaited battle. He hadn’t even meant to speak; the words had just bubbled out of his throat in a moment of panic.

And here he was, facing the consequences. Trembling, Loki shook his head. “I won’t do it,” he whispered in the tone of a plea. Because whatever the Grandmaster did to him, he would not suck Thor’s cock. He would not violate his brother in such a way. He would rather die.

The Grandmaster smiled. The irritation visibly faded. “Okey dokes,” he said.

Confused, Loki blinked. “What?”

“Alright! Sure! I won’t ask you to do it, darling.”

Loki stood where he was, frozen in place. He didn’t—he had heard the words, but he couldn’t comprehend them. Or rather, he could comprehend them, but he didn’t believe them.

And he was right not to.

In the next moment, the Grandmaster was stepping past him—and Loki tried to block him, but something was holding him in place. He struggled, but it wouldn’t budge. And it thrummed against his body like a foreign heartbeat, pressing in on him, squashing his own magic as if it were particularly bothersome fly. Trapped and gasping, Loki watched helplessly, as the Grandmaster placed hands on either side of Thor’s temple.

Thor’s blue eyes opened, sleep-logged. “Loki?” he murmured sleepily. “Where are—”

The Grandmaster’s power sunk into Thor’s head.

NO—

Loki might have shouted. He might have screamed, too. His terror and panic and hate howled over the white noise of his senses because he thought Thor was dying. He thought Thor was dead.

Then Thor blinked, but his blue eyes had turned gold.

“What did you do to him?” Loki shrieked. “What did you do to him?”

“Oh, hun,” the Grandmaster said, even as he pressed the buttons to release Thor’s wrists from their confines. Even as he dropped whatever spell had held Loki still. “You could stand to learn a little gratitude. And well. Who better to teach you than someone that you, uh, that you trust so dearly?”

Thor advanced on him.

Before Loki could think to fight, his backside had hit the bed, and his wrists were locked in Thor’s grip, and his mouth was crushed by his brother’s lips. And Loki was left wishing he’d simply said yes to begin with. Thor would still never look at him the same way again, Thor was still being violated, but now Loki had lost the chance to decide how.

The Grandmaster’s laughter haunted him all throughout the night.